Charon kneeled down beside her; the gentle sound of his metal knee braces clinking against the tile flooring going unheard as his ears were all but deaf. Unhearing and unwilling to spare attention to anything than what was before him.
His hand reached out, moving under the petite woman's shoulder gently as though she would shatter any moment. He wasn't sure she wouldn't. His hand snaking underneath her, he took her by the shoulder as he had before - sudden flashes of the memory in his mind; drunken and unconscious, wounded and moaning, tired and lazy.
But it was so different now. He could feel it.
Sara's body was limp to his touch and her face was fallen with unconsciousness. A blank expression he had known before, but this was somehow poles apart. Her complexion was a ghostly white that made his battle hardened stomach drop - not from revulsion, but dread. She was deathly pale; her skin tinted a faint green. And somehow her face looked vacant.
Sara moved into his grasp easily, her body offering no struggle. No fire, no strength that the small form usually contained - only defeat. He lifted her form effortlessly from the cold floor of the Purifier Chamber, shifting her body in his embrace until his hold on her was secure.
His mind only faintly registered the dull ringing in his ears and the way everything seemed dull and colorless. Charon ignored the radiation around him; ignoring the burn of the fumes, much more intense than anything he had ever encountered, and the strange feeling of the radiation that never affected him so strongly before.
The only feeling it brought was a twinge of pain at the thought of her stepping into this. It was mildly irritating to him. It must have been excruciating for her.
As he stepped from the glass gas chamber, he glanced up briefly to see the blonde Brotherhood soldier. The grave look on Sarah Lyon's face telling him he shouldn't dare hope. Her face solemn, severe; radiating sympathy and... pity.
He didn't want that expression. That pity. He didn't want any pity for him anymore. He was done with that.
Sara never pitied him.
And that's when it hit him. She was the only one; the only one that never pitied him. Never treated him less than human. Never hurt him.
And she was gone.
The look on the blonde's face told him so. Common sense led him to the same conclusion, the ashen complexion and the deathly still form only seemed to confirm it. The Brotherhood of Steel member's expression wouldn't let him escape the notion.
How could this have happened?
All the times he joked about her being reckless and a wannabe hero. "You'll get yourself killed one day." Well… the day had come. She finally did. She was finally the hero.
They had even said their goodbyes - before they ever left. But he didn't expect them to be needed. He never thought it could be the last time he ever said goodbye to her.
The weight pressing down on his lungs wouldn't let him escape the notion, wouldn't let him push it away. The loss of her lively attitude and the thought of never seeing it again closed in on his throat - wouldn't let him dismiss it like he had so many deaths. But those deaths were different. And maybe that's why he was struggling to breathe. Because they were just people, human beings that traveled through life just like him. Nothing special, nothing life shattering.
But she was different. She meant more. The deep pit forming in his stomach scolded him, telling him he shouldn't have become attached to Sara. He shouldn't have let his guard down or began to think of her as anything besides a boss. A contract. A master.
But how could he have known? A few Stimpaks and a day's rest; it was all she ever needed. Some Rad-X if things became too bad.
How could it be too late?
How could she be beyond the help of some Stimpaks - hell, he'd raid the world for its full supply if that's what it took.
Because she was his contract, is what he'd tell anyone that asked.
But if he was honest - with himself, if no one else - it was because she was Sara. The Lone Wanderer. The do-gooder from Vault 101. And she was his friend.
His partner.
How could she be dead?
He felt his strength begin to ooze away from him. He sat - collapsed, but he'd deny it to anyone that accused him - down onto the floor. The weight of her resting in his lap as he suddenly didn't have the strength to hold up his own head, letting it hang low. His eyes seeming distant, almost empty to hide the injured look that hid beneath. He ignored the woman standing near, ignored how she could have judged him. Him - the ghoul, the slave; the useless, worthless creature.
Sara was his partner. Damn everyone else.
He looked down on her; her face pale, blank, unresponsive. He half expected her to open her eyes - to jump up and say something stupid and funny. But he half knew she wouldn't.
Why didn't she wait? Why did she have to be the brave one? The hero? She was just a Vault girl, the only bright thing left in the world. Why did she have to be self sacrificing?
Why wasn't he fast enough? His body already torn and mangled by the effects of radiation, what did he have to lose? Why didn't he get to the Purifier fast enough - push her to the side and step dauntlessly into the glass chamber.
She was his contract - his one sole meaning in life. Why didn't he protect her? He had one job. He had saved her a flesh wound by a stray Raider bullet, taken the brunt of a car's explosion, suffered the deadly sweep of a Deathclaw's talons.
But he wasn't there this time.
He wasn't fast enough. He failed his contract.
And he failed her.
He raised his hand, not even caring how it trembled slightly, and moved it slowly from under her back. He brought it up to touch her, to press against her throat, but it froze hesitantly midair; twitching almost fearfully at what it would feel. Poised above the soft skin of her neck, above the flesh that usually concealed a vibrant and alive vein, pumping with power and force.
The action seemed familiar. He tried to concentrate on the memory; of the feeling of her blood pumping strong underneath his touch. Yet shying away from the memory, fearful of tainting the past if he didn't find the same this time.
Unable to bring himself to deny it, yet unable to accept it, he brought his fingers to her skin. He pressed lightly. And waited.
And he felt nothing.
A sharp jab, so deep and so intense shot into his heart. Digging in acutely and then twisting, making him wince visibly at the pain as all the breath was snatched from his lungs. The weight in his chest was suddenly unbearably painful and the part of his mind that wasn't blank wondered if it'd ever stop.
But then there was something. Underneath his fingertips.
Scarred and ruined skin pressed harder into her neck, seeming to chase or coax out the feeling signs.
And there it was. Faint, distant, nearly unnoticeable.
A slight pressure.
Her heart was still beating.
"We have to get her to the Citadel." He bit sharply, piecing the heavy silence with more fierceness than even he expected. The blonde jumped visibly at the sharpness of his tone and her expression morphed into confusion - utter bewilderment. Impatient rage and a complete disregard for propriety rose up unopposed inside him. "Now!"
She would live. He would make sure of that.
Because she was his master - his boss. She was his sole duty in life, to protect and defend her. He would do it at any costs.
She was his friend - his partner. He'd do anything for her.
He wouldn't fail her.
The next few hours moved by in a blur; a mix of vigorous pace, fervent orders and clattered tools. The minutes and hours morphing into days and finally weeks as they all seemed to blend together into a single moment in that small room. The metal walls and unwelcoming décor of the medical ward is all he'd recall of the weeks past as he would sit by Sara's bedside day and night. The vacant look of her face changing to a peaceful tranquility is the only thing his mind would focus on.
"She's my contract." His never failing excuse.
But then she opened her eyes. Her bright green iris' looking drowsy and worn, but they were there. They were alive.
"Hey, man, I found something worse than the Quantums." She croaked jokingly. Funny and stupid, it was all he would have asked for. "You owe me ten caps."
He didn't even try to hide his smile.
A/N: I don't own Fallout or anything mentioned in the Fallout universe, nor do I own Sara and her epic love with Charon. That belongs to Bethesda and Pup-The-Derp from deviantART, I'm just here to shame the characters.
So I wrote this oneshot - which actually looks like a oneshot for one, haha - after watching Pup-The-Derp's musical comic, Dogmeat Waits. I couldn't stand the thought of Sara dying, plus I wanted to see how Charon would react, since I'm going to shamelessly ship them 'til the bombs drop. So I decided, "I'm writing an alternate ending and you can't stop me!" Here it is.
I wasn't going to add that second part, but I needed something to make me smile and couldn't help but reference my other fanfic, Quantums And Physics.
I made my proof reader cry, so my day just feels… compete.
In whole, it took me about two hours to write this, but then you have to factor in the 20 hours of Tumblr time and sleep in there somewhere.
Hope you liked it, please review! :D