AN: This is a fill for the fallout kink meme. I really like this pairing and wanted to something outside of my usual ME2 / DBZ fics. I haven't actually played Fallout 3 since Mothership Zeta, so I'm purposely vague on some of the details (and please let me know if I still manage to them up). I'm also purposely vague about the Lone Wanderer - any descriptions of her appearance will be very generic and I will not ever include a name for her.

The Distance Apart

He was dead. Gone. Never coming back.

Those words haunted her every night as she curled up by a fire and tried to fall asleep. Nothing in the Wastes that she'd seen or done had hurt her as much as the thought of her father's death.

She'd been half an orphan all her life. Never had a mother, and the last few months she hadn't had a proper father either. But the finality of his death, his heart actually stopping cold in his chest, brought the reality crashing down on her in an almost tangible way. She'd think about her abandonment – first in the vault and now yet again – and the weight of it would constrict around her chest, making it physically painful to breath.

But even as she lay there, curled up in a ball and hugging her knees in an attempt to keep herself physically and emotionally together, whimpering in the dark light of a make-shift fire, she couldn't find it in her to blame her father. Yes, he'd left her alone in what at best of times was a cruel world, but he'd done it for the greater good. She could forgive him for dying on her. Even if it hurt to do it because that just meant acknowledging that he was in fact dead. Gone. Never coming back.

Not to say she didn't feel angry. Pissed off even. She just didn't turn that rage and frustration against the memory of the good man that was her father. Instead she let all that aggression out on every mother-fucker in the Wastes who even thought about picking a fight with her.

Back when she was looking for her father, she'd learned pretty quickly how to handle herself. Her aim had improved drastically, she could spot possible hostiles decently well and could avoid them with ease. But it was different now. There was no skirting around a group of super mutants, holding her breath as a feral ghoul passed, or praying that nearby death claw didn't charge. She'd see a fight and she'd head right into it, guns blazing and a war-like screech resounding from her.

Today was apparently no different.

They'd come across a camp of raiders early in the day. Five of them. Hardly a challenge any more, but it got her blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing. An outlet for all the shit she kept bottled up. Something to fucking kill. And not just kill, but completely obliterate. She couldn't help the smile as she started shooting.

She'd gotten a lucky headshot on the first one – taken the fucker totally by surprise – and ran past the stream of blood and the falling body. She ignored the three other raiders that were charging her, screaming curses and brandishing their weapons, and headed straight for the leader. She'd sized them up beforehand – the big guy was the only one that looked like he'd actually be a challenge.

She ignored the sound of bullets, didn't feel the shotgun blast that grazed her leg. In the heat of the moment, she wasn't sure if the shrieking ululations were coming from her or her prey. All she saw was the fury and then fear in his eyes as he ran out of bullets and fell back, his blood gushing from the wounds to his chest.

Splattered in blood, she was sure she was a sight to be seen as she threw her own gun aside and picked up a rusty pipe from nearby. If their places had been reversed, she was sure she'd be pissing her pants too. Each blow to the already fallen raider was cathartic and goddamn near spiritual in the effect it had on her spirits. She imagined each strike was aimed for one of the bastards that had caused her father's death.

THUD.

Fuck the Enclave.

THUD.

Fuck the Brotherhood.

THUD.

Fuck Vault 101.

THUD.

Fuck Project Purity.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Music to her goddamn ears.

She ignored the mutilated mess beneath her – dead long before she was done with it – and threw the pipe aside. She wiped the red smears off her face as she headed over to retrieve her gun.

Even though it'd been satisfying in that terribly primal sort of way to beat that poor man into a lifeless pulp of flesh and bone, she was still on edge. It was never enough anymore. This blood-letting was becoming an addiction, the only way to calm her nerves and make her forget about her father.

She turned around to find Charon surrounded by the three raiders he'd been left to deal with.

Charon. Her mood softened only slightly as she saw him. He had been her constant companion since she'd purchased his contract. The taciturn ghoul was a huge asset, especially to a newbie to the Wastes. She'd grown used to his company over the past few weeks (months? Hell, she was terrible at keeping track of time without the Vault's computers to help her). Up to when she'd found her father, he was her only real confidant and she was beginning to consider him a friend. Scratch that, she had considered him a friend.

And then her father had died. And the fucking ghoul didn't seem to care.

She knew it wasn't fair of her to be upset at him about it. She was his employer, as he never failed to point out. Her emotional well-being wasn't his concern – just her orders. Never mind that he'd never seemed to have a normal life with all its normal human interactions. He probably didn't realize what was going on in her head at night. If he did, he probably had no experience with how to comfort her.

But goddamnit she was upset. He was her friend. He should fucking do something.

And there he was, glaring at her as he polished his gun. That fucking gun. He cared more about it than he did her. Asshole. Maybe under other circumstances, she'd stop to think why that idea bothered her so much.

"What?" she snapped at him, hands automatically going to her hips.

"It's not my place to say anything." The whole time giving her that dirty look. Polishing that goddamn gun.

"I already told you," one hand went up and was waved in annoyance, "Just speak your mind. You got something to say, say it."

He seemed to chew on that for a moment. His tongue moved slightly in his mouth as if he was trying out the words before giving them voice. "You're being careless."

Her brow knit in confusion. Of all the things she expected him to say, something as mild as 'careless' was not among them. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Charon didn't want to get into this. He had his concerns about her recent behavior, but he really didn't think it was his place to say anything. And not just because of the damn contract. Showing her that he cared for her in any sort of way beyond the paper in her back pocket was the last thing he wanted to do. Ever. Which was why he had to choose his words carefully and keep the focus on her instead of turn it on him.

"Since when is it a good idea to charge past three armed assailants to focus solely on one?"

"Maybe I trust you to fucking do your job and watch my back." She was slightly annoyed when he didn't react to the jab.

"What about the super mutants yesterday?" She'd shouted to get their attention. "Or the mirelurks a few days ago?" She was knee deep in the water before he'd managed to catch up and put a bullet in the one sneaking up behind her. "Or the ferals last week?" She hadn't even bothered putting on her ghoul mask anymore – she'd make as much noise as possible whenever they traveled in the tunnels. "You're purposely putting yourself in dangerous combat situations."

Her glare matched his as she now crossed her arms over her chest. He hated when she got pissed off. Something about it always made him uneasy. Probably because it never ended well for the person on the receiving end of her temper. But she wanted his opinion, and she wanted him to be honest. And he was legitimately concerned that she'd get them both killed within a month at this rate. It was his duty to protect his employer.

Yes. His duty.

As if that was what made his heart skip a beat every time she nearly got her head blown off or her body impaled.

She just continued to shoot daggers at him. He could almost feel her anger at him boiling beneath the surface. It was probably the dumbest thing he could do right now, but for some reason he kept going. "If you don't stop looking for kicks by almost getting your brains shot out, then eventually they will be shot out."

"How dare you," she hissed at him.

"You asked me to speak my mind," he stated flatly.

"All you fucking notice is that I'm being a bit more…" she struggled to find a word that wasn't as insulting as 'careless' but gave up. "Is all you care about my 'combat survival'? After all the time you've spent watching my back out here, all you can fucking think of me is that I'm some goddamned adrenaline junky who's trying to get herself killed!"

"As you are my employer, my only concern is to serve and protect you. Your reasons are your own."

And then it hit her.

I'm just another goddamn job to him.

"You're fired," she spat at him with as much malice as she could find.

He didn't understand her. The words didn't make any sense to him. She was… firing him? "What?"

"What? Your brain rotting away like the rest of you? You fucking heard me! You're fired! Get the fuck away from me!" She was screaming in frustration.

The two starred at each other across the raider camp for a few moments. The silence stretched on until neither was sure how long it had been. As their anger died down the impact of what had just happened began to creep its way into their understanding.

In the heat of the moment, she had meant it. One hundred percent. But as the seconds passed and her anger fizzled out, as she saw what she thought might be hurt replace the confusion in his eyes, she regretted it more and more.

"Charon," she whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I was just angry. I-"

"No," he cut her off and stood abruptly. He hoped his voice gave nothing away. "I understand. It's part of the contract. My employer has the right to terminate my services whenever he or she sees fit."

"No, please, Charon, I really didn't mean it at all-" Oh god let me take it back, please let me take it back.

He held up a hand to stop her. "You no longer require my services. I will not impose myself on you any longer." He slung his gun around his shoulder and started to walk away. He couldn't look at her right now, and he tried not to think about the very real possibility that he'd never see her again.

Charon could feel her eyes on him, but he forced one foot in front of the other. Kept going in a straight line, no idea where he was headed, until he was sure he was out of sight. And then he kept going some more just to be sure.

I'm just another goddamn job. And like a fucking idiot, I fired him.

Biting back tears, she turned and walked in the opposite direction.