Superman
I wrote this after listening to Superman, by Five For Fighting.
I highly suggest you listen to the song, maybe even while you're reading.
Rated M for language.
This wasn't what he'd wanted.
GOD, he'd tried so hard to do what was asked of him.
The only thing he'd ever felt so strongly for in the world was on the ground, choking on her own fucking blood.
Her eyes locked with his, grey-green meeting blue, and the pain he saw was too…it was too much.
He reached for her, his fingertips still stained red, tears obscuring his vision.
The dirt in his mouth ground as he tried to move his mouth, to tell her it was going to be okay.
A lie was better than nothing…right?
She was his world…he was her bodyguard. He'd failed his fucking job, and it was more than just a contract.
She moved, covered her open throat with one hand while trying take his in the other, her fingers blackened and stained just like his.
There was never supposed to be anything between them…but somehow, it'd happened.
A ghoul and a human…it could have never happened if it wasn't HER.
There were streaks running down her cheeks, lines where tears had coursed through the dirt and grime.
His eyes wandered over the face that not an hour ago had been laughing and smiling that amazing smile and speaking with him with such ease.
His ruined lips trembled, and he barely registered the pain inside of his mouth where several of his own teeth had been knocked loose in the blast.
Oh, God, she began coughing, the sound wet and hideous, and blood spurted from between her fingers.
NO, he wouldn't let her…
"Charon…"
He felt his chest heave when he heard her croak his name so painfully.
His eyes locked onto her hand, the one that was still clawing at the dirt, trying so hard to reach him.
Her eyes pleaded with him, asking the question that she was trying to force out of her blackened lips.
He pulled himself across the ground, ignoring both the sharp pain of his broken legs and the high-pitched ringing in his ears.
Suddenly, she seemed to be much farther away, and he swallowed, coughing when a mixture of blood and dirt hit the back of his throat.
He felt his hand hit something, and he looked up, but only saw the dismembered hand of one of those FUCKING raiders.
There was an instant of clarity, and he instantly registered the red rage that pooled in his brain.
"Charon…"
She had called him again, and he looked at her, and she looked back.
The light in her eyes was…
"No, smoothskin…don't you fucking die on me yet…"
He roughly brushed the raider's hand away, and dug his fingers into the ground, using them to pull himself forward.
His other arm hung limp at his side, the tendon in his shoulder severed by a piece of shrapnel that had gotten caught there and was steadily ripping into him with every movement.
"Charon, don't…"
Despite his blurred vision, he glared at the ground in front of him, feeling skin ripping on his fingers as he pulled his body weight along.
"Charon…"
"NO! DON'T YOU FUCKING TALK!"
He couldn't look at her any more. He had to get to her first.
She went silent, but he could still barely hear the sounds of her throat constricting as blood filled the passageway.
Her face…fresh and pink when he'd first laid eyes on it…her face floated through his numbing brain, that smile locked in place.
Even though that face was long gone…it was the only thing keeping him sane enough to move even though his arm was betraying him, screaming at the exertion he'd put it through.
"Charon…look at me."
At the sound of her voice, the quiet and desperate tone, he risked looking up.
And nearly sobbed.
She was smiling again, even though the hand on her throat was almost completely coated in red, and that same red was trickling from the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes, though dim, were focused on him. They were showing every emotion that they possibly could: pain, fear…love…anger…acceptance.
"No…don't you look at me like that."
He shook his head and closed his eyes, fighting back the passion that was welling up in his chest.
"Will you be here when I wake up…?"
He gasped, his eyes shot open, and he glared at her.
He could hear the first time she'd asked him that, the night when she lay curled in his arms, long having accepted that her father was dead.
He'd scoffed and told her, "Of course," and ordered her to go to sleep.
And the next morning, when she awoke and saw him there, the simple joy he had seen in her eyes had been…invigorating, to say the least.
Now, lying half-dead on the ground, it wan't such a simple request.
But he'd be damned if he wouldn't try to follow the final request.
Somehow, he wasn't entirely even sure when, but he finally felt his hand brush hers.
As they locked their fingers, he looked up at her smiling face once more.
"Will you?"
Her fucking eyes were losing more of their light, and he fought to keep his eyes on hers.
"Of course."
She closed her eyes, her fingers tightening around his.
"Do you…promise?"
He allowed the smallest of smiles to reach his lips.
"Yes…mistress."
She had always hated when he called her that. But now…she let out a soft laugh, cringing at the pain in her throat.
"I told you…it's Charlotte…call me by my name…or don't…call me at…all."
Her eyes opened, and she looked into his one last time.
"I love you…Charon…"
The ghoul pressed his lips to her fingers as one small tear slipped out of the corner of his eye.
"Love you too, Charlotte."
She smiled that wonderful, one-of-a-kind smile one last time, and then her eyes closed. He stayed silent, listening for the last breath.
And then…there it was, a soft sigh that signified that she was gone.
Then he remembered his promise.
Maybe…there's a place where she'll wake up again.
And who was he to break a promise?
He smiled, even through the tears that had suddenly begun to flow down his fleshless cheeks.
She still had a small pistol tucked into the holster at her hip, and he wasted no time in pulling it out.
He looked at her one last time and pressed the barrel to his temple.
"I'll be there."