"What are you talking about, Charon? Everyday is a good day to drink!" Sara averred, waving her hand dismissively as she walked further into the elderly structure. "Besides, we've been working hard gathering parts and knick-knacks, and clearing out places, and finding people for weeks. I declare this our night off!"

"Couldn't we wait until we get back to Megaton?" Charon tried to persuade.

The day - or week in general - had been long and tedious. His body was sore; his every muscle feeling over-worked and aching as his entirety complained from the lack of a good night's sleep. Restful slumber was something he knew he wouldn't find in the small, crude building they had stopped in to make camp; the structure which, although not the best quality, would hold at least for the night.

"But I want to have a drink tonight," Sara defended, leaning down and reaching her hand into the bag she had discarded on the floor. "And we couldn't get back home before dark."

Her fingers felt around in the bag, causing the sound of glass clattering and clinging from inside to ring out from the movement, hinting to the large amount of bottles contained within.

Her hand finally emerged with a single whiskey bottle clasped in her palm; the glass tinted a friendly orange and filled to the brim with equally colorful liquid. Weeks of collecting random bottles of alcohol whenever they found them provided an impressive stockpile of booze.

With the object of her affection in her hold, she placed her free hand against the wall and settling down onto the floor; crossing her legs in front of her as she eased her strained back against the crude wall. The muscles surrounding her spine stung and ached as she allowed them to unwind, but the pain ebbed away after a moment of stillness.

Sara's eyes suddenly darted up to Charon standing feet away from her. "Whoa, I just had a great idea."

Resting his own pack on the floor beside him, Charon glanced to her over his shoulder.

"What if I-" She began, her face suddenly meditative, "-took this." Raising her whiskey bottle to eye height, she used her free hand to reach back into her bag her, fumbling around in it for a moment, causing a clatter of glass to sound again. "And mixed it with this." She lifted out the glowing blue bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum from the large collection hidden within.

"Aren't those reserved?" Charon argued.

"Oh, don't worry, the crazy lady will get her supply of soft drinks. She only needs thirty and I don't plan on drinking them all. It's only one, what would that hurt? There are plenty of them around; we'll just have to get another. No biggie." Sara reasoned, "Just think though, it'll taste amazing! And definitely take the edge off."

Charon grimaced, "I wouldn't drink that."

"But… but it glows, Charon." Sara explained, a look of enthusiasm flashing in her eyes. "That means it has to be at least twice as good."

"Toxic waste glows too." Charon countered, resting his weary form down onto an old crate across from Sara.

"Yeah…. Well… well, so did you when you swam through it!" She shot back weakly.

"You mean when you made me?"

Sara tipped her head, her eyes narrowing, "But we had to get that MedKit. And you're immune to the stuff, it was only fair! If I did it, there would not be enough Rad-X in the world to undo it. I like my intestines where they are - not leaking out my eyes."

"Yeah… I haven't forgotten your reasoning…" Charon muttered, disgruntled. "But what did that have to do with you pulling me into a dark closet?"

"I- Well…. Oh, come on, I wanted to see how bright you were! I hadn't seen a glow-stick since 101, don't begrudge me my fun."

Charon simply rolled his eyes.

"Oh, don't get angst-y on me, man…" She teased.

Charon shook his head tiredly. "My point stands. You shouldn't drink it."

"Well… why would that loony chick ask us to collect them if they were dangerous?"

"'Loony'"

"I… damn it, stop punching holes in my theories, Charon." She bit resentfully, "Don't be a buzz kill. You need to get laid and drunk sometime, man, you're so uptight."

"I don't see many opportunities to do such things."

"Of course you do! Look around! You have the whiskey, vodka, the beer! You have-" Sara's words suddenly catching in her throat as her mind caught up with her mouth. Charon's eyes caught just a dim color growing on her face. "You- you have the whiskey! And who needs anything else when you have whiskey? Everything else is overrated."

He raised an eyebrow at her, grateful for his ruined skin to hide his own dim blush.

"Well, because, you know… Well, you know, not that I- Not to say that shoul- Or that I wouldn't- Or you- I-" She sputtered, finding herself, for once, at a loss for words. Her eyes darted to her side suddenly, lifting up a bottle of Quantum victoriously, "Hey, we have Quantum!"

Charon forced down his smirk in an unseen gesture and adjusted the crate he was sitting on.

"But seriously, Charon! Just look at it! It looks so friggin' cool! And the effects can't be that different than… than something like Jet? No way it could be worse, it could only get cooler."

Charon had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't a debate he was going to win. Telling by the tone of her voice and the humor of her words, she had already made up her mind and was now trying to joke him into agreeing. With the decision made, he knew he couldn't sway her opinion and convince her otherwise.

So he relented, shrugging. "Whatever. I suppose you're going to do what you want anyways. I've said all I'm going to."

Sara paused hesitantly, her eyebrows creasing as she looked at him oddly; an almost confused look partly hiding her displeasure as she glanced down at her drink thoughtfully. "But you have to try it with me." She said, the disappointment not escaping her voice as she looked back up to him.

"Sorry, I'm honor-bound to protect you, not get wasted off my ass with you."

"But that's where bro-ship compels you! Come on, you're not going to make me drink it alone! What kind of friend are you? I thought we were BFFs, Charon, I'm hurt. What kind of partner are you? The partner always has a victory drink with his buddy!"

"If we both die, there'll be no one to feed Dogmeat."

"Oh, come on, don't be a… dude, was that a joke?"

Charon didn't reply.

"Dude, you made a joke, holy shit. That's funny." She confessed, her voice cracking vaguely as a chuckle bubbled up inside her. Raising the Quantum up in her hand, she continued, "Come on, that's something to drink to! Dude, you're going to be so much fun drunk."

"I'm not drinking it."

"But you have to." Sara pleaded. "Please?"

"No."

Sara pouted, dropping her head. Dogmeat lay on the ground not far from her, his head rested on his paws as he watched the scene with dull interest. Sara looking over to Dogmeat, her eyes showing her peeve. "Dogmeat, make him drink it."

Dogmeat whimpered confused.

Sara sighed, leaning back against the wall, "Fine, you guys are such pussies." Sara set the whiskey bottle in her hand down on the floor beside her, using her now free hand to grip at the cap of the Nuka Cola Quantum. Twisting it tightly for a moment, ignoring the sharp metal digging into her skin, she managed to pop it off and held the bottle out away from her face as it fizzed in bright, glowing blue bubbles. She looked at it cautiously. "It looks awesome already."

Reaching over and fumbling in her pack again, she lifted out a small glass; chipped slightly around the edges and stained an odd brown tint, but seeming capable of holding liquid. Holding the Quantum and the glass between her knees, she took the cap off of the whiskey and poured it into the shot-glass; following it by emptying the contents of the Quantum in as well.

The two drinks mixed and seemed to swirl together, making an odd sort of spiral of bright orange and glowing blue. She examined her glass warily, raising it eye level and watching as the glowing blue sank deeper into the glass; swirling but not seeming to combined, much like oil and water.

Her brow creased gently in consideration, but the unmistakable glimmer of excitement and what Charon would call recklessness showed clear in Sara's eyes; her hunter-green iris' illuminated a gentle blue by the glow of the glass. Taking a breath, as if to gather her courage, she brought the drink to her lips and took a swig, waiting only a moment before tipping back her head and letting it drain down her throat.

With the glass now empty and the strange mixture seeping into her blood stream, she stopped to take a breath. Slamming her glass down beside her triumphantly, she leveled her gaze straight ahead. Suddenly the world blurred; everything rushing from focused to unfocused and back as things became instantly close and then far away. The world zoomed out and then in again frighteningly fast and her weight seemed to go off balanced, making her rock back on the ground; her hand darting out to catch herself.

"Whoa." She muttered, her expression falling into a look of dumbstruck awe.

Charon's deformed and ruined eyebrows furrowed as his expression became suddenly serious, All humor aside, Charon leaned forward on the crate he was seated on, his eyes locking on Sara firmly as the intact iris' showed hard with concern.

"What?" He asked carefully, his voice measured.

Sara leaned forward in an attempt to regain her balance, but it only managed to knock her further off center and she swung dangerously to the side, nearly falling over. She landed on her forearm and caught herself from toppling over entirely; pausing a moment as she blinked hard in an attempt to clear her vision, before pushing herself back up to lean against the wall. She rested her head back against the cold concrete; her expression straight and her eyes seeming glossed.

"Dude." She drawled, her voice sounding lathered in satisfaction. "You gotta try this shit." A small smile quirked on her lips, "Like, no joke, this is the best stuff ever."

And so it began.

After another glass and twenty minutes, the world was suddenly hilarious to Sara.

She had dissolved into incoherent giggles before Charon could even understand what was so funny.

"And you… hehe. You said 'but'. Ah-ha"

Charon raised his eyebrow, "And that is funny, why...?"

"Because," She gasped, trying to hold down her laughter, "Because you said 'but'. You know, as in 'butts'." She giggled again. "That's funny, damn it!"

"Hmm, okay." He muttered to himself, shaking his head.

-0-0-0-

By glass three, the ponderings of the world and philosophy began.

"Think about it, Charon. We could be so wrong. Everything we know could be wrong. Maybe my name isn't even Sara? Maybe you're not really a bodyguard?" She contemplated, looking down into her drink as though the answers would spring forth from the strangely colored concoction. She was silent for a moment, staring into the swirl, but then her eyes rose to meet Charon. Her expression etched with deep consideration, "Am I a woman… or am I a dancer?"

It took every ounce of willpower Charon possessed to not choke on the laugh that leapt unbidden from his throat.

-0-0-0-

After a fourth glass and over an hour, Sara was convinced she was a superhero.

"I'm not even kidding, man, I hear my hair growing. Like, like, I can actually hear it. It's so loud. Can't you hear it? I… I can hear your hair growing! How can your hair be growing? You... you don't even have hair! Dude… what if you do have hair. But, because of the radiation or zombie genes or what-have-ya, it… it, like, evaporates before it gets long enough for you to see. If you could just figure out how to make it stop evaporating… you'd have lots of hair! You'd look awesome! Well, maybe. Because, you know, you look pretty rad' now too." She nodded sluggishly, "Wait, hehe, 'rad''. Rads." She chuckled again, "'You totally rad, mo-fo.'" She laughed.

He was starting to wonder if they banned the Nuka-Cola Quantum for this reason.

"Oh dude!" She exclaimed suddenly, "I bet you I can run. Like, really fast. I wanna run. Seriously, right now." She swayed to the side, her hand darting out to catch her weight as she nearly tumbled over. Pushing herself back up, she placed her hand against the wall in a feeble attempt to stand.

Charon leaned forward on his crate and placed a solid hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her back down. "Sit." He ordered softly.

"Aww, you're just mad because you're not as fast. I mean, I'm fast. Like, super fast. Like when I took on that Behemoth. That was the shit! I was a badass motherfucker." Her eyes suddenly flashed with amazement at a sudden realization, "Oh my God, that means I have to be special! I have super kickass powers and I never knew! It... it all makes sense. That 'special' book I had when I was little. It was called, 'You're S.P.E.C.I.A.L'. And it was right." She shook her head in wonderment, taking another drink from her glass. "Man, I should write a book. I could do it too. I will write a book about butts, and it will be called, 'Butts.'"

Even Dogmeat looked up to Charon with a quizzical expression. Charon returned his gaze and could only shake his head.

"Oh, and you know what else?" Sara continued, "I can taste clouds. Like… a summer breeze… they taste fresh, you know? You see on the back of that detergent stuff, where it says 'ocean fresh'? I finally get it. I finally understand. Ocean fresh. It tastes… fresh. You know, maybe this is what they were trying to tell us before? They were trying to share it, but we didn't get it. We didn't understand fresh. Maybe the world wasn't ready for it? Real fresh."

Apparently the philosophical portion hadn't worn off yet.

"Oh my God, Charon! Charon, I have an idea. This one… this one's really good this time, I promise. What if we…" She began, holding up her hands to better project her idea as her face became suddenly serious, "took that It-Rocker-Launch and- Launch-It-Rock… Launcher-Rock-"

"Rock-It-Launcher." Charon corrected.

"Yeah, yeah, that." She nodded quickly, "What if we took that… and made it, like, huge? Like, as big as the purifier big, you know? And what… what if we filled it with that detergent? And we could like… make the whole Capi- Capit- Capa- Wasteland… we could make the whole Wasteland ocean fresh. No, no, no, the whole goddamn world… ocean fresh."

Charon sat up, reaching over and grabbing Sara's pack from the ground. Sitting back, he placed it next to his own bag without a word.

"What're you doing?" She asked; her face contorted in overly dramatic confusion.

Leaning back on the crate, he answered plainly, but with soft authority to his tone. "I think you've had enough."

"Awww! No I haven't!" She exclaimed, "I'm fine! I'm perf-fe-c-ally in contr-al of all my smarticals."

"No."

"Charon, you asshole, give it back!"

"No."

"I, your rightful leader, demand you give me my magic booze back!"

"No."

"Or else you shall be punished!"

"When you can say philanthropist, I'll take that threat seriously."

Sara paused, "F-ll-la-fo-piss. Fla-… filan-topaz... f-… fa-… fla- flu- flatho- fla- Oh, fuck you."

Charon couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"You mother-fucker." She said the words slowly, glowering at him through narrowed eyes. "You're an asshole, you know? I should… I should thrash you. Like in the olden days."

"You'll be lucky if you can stand."

"Shut up, dickhead." She bit back, "Give it back!"

"I'm not going to."

"Charon!" She whined. "Charon!"

"No."

"You, sir," She declared, pointing her index finger at him sharply, "are no gentleman! You are a brute and a meanie."

"I'll just have to learn how to live with myself."

"God, you're such an ass. You need to get laid more, man, and learn to stop killing people's buzz."

"Sara, you're wasted. Stop it." He stated firmly, her name feeling odd on his lips as he spoke for one of the rare few times.

"Don't, don't, don't, don't think that just because you use my name that that's going to butter me up!" She pointed her index finger at him again, but it swayed in front of her, "This is America. And I want my booze!"

"No."

Huffing indignantly, Sara leaned back against the wall, lifting her glass up to eye level to stare at it grumpily. She rested her hand down beside her to keep her from rocking too far to the side, when a slight cling met her ears. Sluggishly, she looked down beside her.

Her face flashing with pride, she gripped the bottle under her hand lifted it up. "Ha-ha! Joke's on you, bitch! I have one more!"

Charon narrowed his eyes disapprovingly at her. Sorely tempted to wrestle that one away from her as well. But he'd probably hurt her - or she'd hurt herself - in the struggle, so it'd most likely be better to just let her have another drink.

Pouring the contents into the glass, Sara took a strong chug of it.

"So…" She began. "What was I saying? Oh, oh, oh, I remember. Freshness cannon. It'd be great! Oh, but wait… fuck, I don't think Moira has the plans. Awww, fuck. Stupid bitch." She relented, dropping her head, "But, hey! Maybe we could ask those assholes in Rivet City to help? Eh? Doctor tight-ass likes fresh stuff, right?"

-0-0-0-

It was around the fifth glass that the singing started.

"I wanna know what love is!" Sara belted out passionately, raising her hand up into the air before clenching it into a fist and slamming it against her heart. "And I want you to show me!" She closed her eyes tightly, her face etched with zeal and her eyebrows bent with emotion, "I wanna feel what love is! And I want you to show me!" Sara fell back against the wall, her expression that of enraptured. Her head falling to the side as she looked to Charon. "I wanna know what love is, Charon."

"You can ask Nova when we get back."

"No, Charon… you have to do what I say! And I say… love me!"

"I'm a bodyguard, not a philanthropist."

"What is that? Philan…-tha-tha-blah. That's a hard word." She said dumbly, but then her expression suddenly morphed into shock, "Oh my God, that's that other word! That one you wanted me to say earlier, when you were being an asshole!" She exclaimed, "What is that? That word, what does it mean? Does that have something to with politics? Is that… is that a party? Like I heard back in 101? Oh, Charon, say that. Say '1-0-1'. It's fun! 1-0-1." She tested carefully on her tongue, smiling as she did so. "God, I lived in a cool vault." She paused, looking down as her eyes furrowed quizzically. "What was I talking about? Oh, yeah, politics! I remember an elephant and a donkey. But I don't know why they used those ones. I mean, the elephant is bigger, so that makes it cooler! And the other one is an ass. And that's bad. Why didn't the donkey people get mad? Is that why they did the big explode-y thing? With the nukes?"

Charon got to the point where he just let her ramble unopposed.

"That's stupid." She continued. "They could have just changed names. Those are some fucked up parties. Oh, Charon! We should have a party! A big party! With lights and drinks and stuff! I have tons of drinks, it'd be great!" She insisted. "And we could all wear hats! We could get one for you and one for me and one for Dogmeat - Oh, oh, we could get two for all of us! And it'd be great, because two hats are way better than one! And if we wear 'em right, then it'd look like ears! Like Deathclaw horns, you know? But we'd have to be careful! Because we wouldn't want to scare anyone. And we could all sing! Like in that game… that singing game… you know, when you get on a stage and you… you sing. You know?"

Charon just reclined against the wall, nodding halfheartedly when she looked to him enthusiastically.

"Oh, I could teach everyone to sing! I'm a great singer! The best fucking singer you've ever seen. And I know so many fucking songs too… like, you wouldn't believe. Like, more than Three Dog knows. And he knows a lot. Right, Charon? You know I'm a rockin' singer!"

"Hmm," Charon hummed, nodding as he began, "Problem is-"

"Oh! Bongo-bongo-bongo, I'm so happy in the taco, oh, no, no, no, no!" She cut in, singing loudly and terribly off key. "Jingle-Jangle-hangle, I'm so happy in the mango, I refused to go!" She rocked to the side, laughter suddenly bubbling up inside her. "Ha-ha, sing with me, Charon! Oh, bongo-bongo-bongo, I'm so happy in the taco, oh no… no… no… whoa…" Her voice started to fade in volume as her head swayed to the side. Her eyes drooped low. "Hmm."

Charon leaned forward slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Of course, I'm alright-y! I'm awe-th-ome!" She yelled drunkenly. "Hey Charon?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I acting weir'?"

"What?"

"Am I… acting… weird." She carefully pronounced each letter.

"Most definitely."

"Well, that aw-t g-um-thin- goo', huh?" Sara slurred, her voice varying in pitch with every word.

"What?" Charon queried, "What did you say? That didn't make any sense."

Sara paused thoughtfully, her brow creasing. "I know. D'at didn't make any sense, did it? And d-hen my voice changed and I was jus' talkin' and d'at was weir'."

"What?"

"Hey, I feel dizzy!" She shouted happily as she veered precariously to the side. Suddenly her hand slipped on the old and deteriorated flooring and her balance gave out, forcing her to fall clumsily to the ground. Landing on her shoulder, her empty glass slipped from her hand and it hit the ground hard; only the thickness prevented it from shattering.

Scoffing internally at her inelegance, Charon asked simply, "You okay?" Unworried and expecting her to languidly try to right herself, he called again when she didn't reply. "Hey."

But she offered no response. And no movement.

"Damn it." He cursed quietly, standing up from his crate.

Crossing the small room of the elderly building and coming to her side, he stood over her for a moment; his eyes fixed on her still form and half expecting her to shift to the side and spout off something slurred and idiotic. But she didn't. So he kneeled down beside her, placing his coarse hand firmly on her shoulder and pushing her to roll to her back. She complied easily, her body suddenly languid and unresisting. Her head lolled to the side, showing her normally lively and bright emerald eyes to be shut peacefully.

Her shoulder still in his grasp, he shook her carefully. "Hey." His voice firm, but calm as he attempted to rouse her.

But she didn't respond. Her eyes still tranquilly shut and her face settled in a serene expression that he would call sleep.

He raised his coarse but attentive hand to her face as his keen eyes examining her closely. His fingertips pressed against the soft flesh of her cheek, finding her skin aflame with heat and tinted with a stark blush from the alcohol.

"Sara?" He asked determinedly.

She didn't react.

"Hey, wake up." He shook her more harshly, gently slapping his hand against her face. "Wake up. Now."

Nothing.

"Sara, you have to get up. Get up."

Silence.

"Sara."

Nothing was working.

In the hush of the enclosed building, with the life of the Wastes around them dying down as night drew closer, he could easily hear her gentle breaths and see her chest rise and fall with each. Letting his hand trail down her cheek and rest on her neck, he could feel her heartbeat still strong and could see her breathing still consistent. But she wouldn't wake up. So that brought him to the obvious conclusion.

She passed out.

She got drunk off her ass and passed out.

In the middle of no where.

Charon sighed, dropping his head in frustration. Looking over his shoulder and out over the Wastes to see the sun threatening to touch down on the horizon, he cursed again quietly. He didn't want to stay out here with her in this condition. If she was conscious, then that was one thing, but her like this?

Great fucking job, Charon. He scolded himself, You're supposed to protect her and you let her drink herself into oblivion.

He had to get them back to town.

If he stayed he would be forced to not only keep watch over Sara to assure that she kept breathing and didn't harm herself, should she wake up, but also keep guard against any night predators that decided to check out their camp.

Starting a fire would only scare off the little dangers and would increase the chances of a small group of Raiders passing by to investigate them. With both Sara and himself in perfect condition, it was a normal risk, but with Sara unconscious, he knew he wouldn't be able to fortify them against a Raider attack.

Sara helpless and him outnumbered.

Wouldn't work.

And then there was the medical standpoint. If she woke up with a killer hangover, as he guessed she would, she certainly wouldn't want to walk clear to Megaton, where any medical stockpiles, as well as a doctor, could be found. Or what if, God forbid, the Quantums affected Sara badly and it wasn't just drunkenness that caused her to fall unconscious? If something went wrong during the night, he didn't want to have to risk carrying her then, when she needed help and attention immediately.

But there was no way he could get them back before nightfall. No matter how fast he moved or even if she was able to walk herself, the day would end before they were even halfway.

But if he moved fast, he might be able to get them into Megaton shortly after dark.

Granted, most of the general wildlife would come out just after dark, such as Rad-scorpions, but the extremely dangerous creatures waited until later in the night to emerge for hunting.

Dogmeat could alert him of danger before it got too close and his shotgun should fend off anything short of a full group of raiders or a Deathclaw.

He could do it. He'd risk it.

He'd have to.

He let his hand grasp around her arm, pulling her unconscious form up from its strewn place on the ground and forward as he ducked under her arm and pressed his shoulder to her abdomen. Using his other hand to hook around her waist, he shifted her place on him slightly before standing, letting her lay slung over his shoulder.

Her petite weigh settling onto him, he shifted somewhat to stop the small metal pieces of her armor from digging into his skin through his own leather clothing. With her secure, he carefully kneeled down to hook his hand around the straps of his bag, slinging it onto his arm and then grabbing hers as well. Struggling only a moment, he managed to hook both onto his unencumbered shoulder, before cautiously leaning down again; picking his shotgun up from atop the crate.

Finally standing to his full height without dropping any of his cargo, he whistled sharply and Dogmeat obediently jumped to his feet. Charon let his eyes travel over the crude room to assure he hadn't forgotten anything and, sure that he hadn't, he turned and made his way out into the Wastes.

Charon slipped through small opening between the gates of Megaton, not turning to offer his thanks to the small Securitron who manned the gates like Sara often did. Instead he readjusted the packs on his arm and flexed his fingers around the shotgun in his hand as his muscle began to complain with more volume at the strain and weariness.

Charon was no stranger to long hours and heavy loads, but the sheer amount of weight being carried on his single shoulder was more than he was accustom to holding even on both shoulders. Both his pack, plus a few heavy weapons that Sara had designated him to carry, plus her heavily encumbered bags, then having the delicate cargo of his boss and 'partner' slung over his other shoulder like dead weight only added to his strain.

But Charon supposed he should be grateful; at least she was quiet again. Sara would have momentary bouts of consciousness, but they didn't last long. Most included singing passionately off-key, songs that he wasn't sure were in English and occasionally yelling out 'the moon is yellow' at the top of her lungs, which would make Dogmeat whimper and stumble in surprise.

Charon would just shake his head and try to keep focused on the fact that she could have put herself in a legitimately dangerous situation, and try to force down the smirk that wanted to climb onto his lips and the laugh that fought its way up his throat.

She was entertaining. That was for damn sure.

Charon's fingers were beginning to tremble slightly at the stress, but he clutched them painfully tight around the stock of his shotgun to keep them still.

Almost there.

The pure darkness of the town at nighttime was only broken by the few scarce lights outside the ragged and worn houses. The dim lanterns illuminating their forms in the warm color and enveloping them in a relaxing sense of home. Dark, quiet and peaceful. Charon could almost feel his body ache in the anticipation of being this close to rest.

He moved at a slow pace as he traveled down the incline into the center of Megaton, making sure to judge for his own weight as well as the extra he was carrying, so to not tumble down the hill. Dogmeat followed him obediently, cheerily trotting behind him.

Walking up the slope just as Charon was walking down, came the form of the Sheriff. His signature, ratty cowboy hat secured atop his head and rusted badge all but invisible on his shirt in the faint light. Judging by the time of night and the slowness of his speed, Charon guessed he was retiring home for the evening, which was placed near the gates.

The Sheriff glanced up the incline as he climbed it, his eyes darting to Charon quickly as though he had not previously noticed him. A friendly, but business-like expression fell over his face, almost unnoticeable in the blackness, and his hat tipped curtly as he nodded to Charon.

"Hey, Charon. How's it going?"

"Same as usual." Charon replied casually.

"That bad, uh?" The Sheriff quipped, smiling kindly as he did so. Suddenly his eyebrows furrowed and his head tipped slightly to the side as his eyes settled on the bundle slung over Charon's shoulder. He nodded to Sara, "She finally tested out that stash of hers?"

"Unfortunately. How'd you guess?" Charon joked, as if the woman slung over his shoulder wasn't obvious enough.

"I'm just psychic." The Sheriff shrugged, "I guess those Children of Atom freaks are getting to me. Becoming a prophet."

"Well, do you see her waking up without permanent brain damage in the future?"

"Ah, well, I've been pulling long hours, so everything is a bit fuzzy." He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck, wincing slightly, "I'll get back to you on that in the morning."

Charon nodded, "It'd be appreciated."

"Night, Charon. Good luck." He waved his goodbye as he stepped past Charon, continuing up to the gates.

Charon nodded in response. He stepped further down the slope, turning once he reached the bottom and walking up the planks secured crudely in the dirt as stairs to Sara's shack.

Reaching the top, he carefully stepping up onto the metal deck of her shack; which creaked and wailed at his weight, making him painfully aware that he likely awoke the whole town.

Struggling to keep the balance of the objects on his shoulders, he reached up and managed to fumble through Sara's pocket for her house key without dropping her, their packs and guns, or tripping down the uneasy slope behind him, in the dark, with Dogmeat dancing around his feet impatiently.

And then with the key acquired, he managed to balance his gun on his knee while he unlocked and pushed open the door. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he grasped his weapon again and resisted the urge to kick Dogmeat as the animal rushed past Charon's legs, nearly knocking him off balance, and through the open door.

He'd better get a fucking bonus for this or something.

Or she better be grateful at least.

Stepping into the house, he found the lights to be on and was suddenly grateful for not having to stumble through a darkened house for the switch. The large heart-shaped mattress, adorned with a red blanket and placed in the middle of the living-room floor was the dog's target and Dogmeat wagging his tail cheerfully as he curled up on it.

Charon ignored the robot 'Mr. Gusty' butler that hovered down the stairs. The robot greeted him politely in an artificial British accent, but Charon didn't answer or even acknowledge the machine. Instead he kicked the door closed behind him and dropped his bags unceremoniously onto the mattress; making Dogmeat flinch away as the equipment clattered beside him. He looked up to Charon, seeming to glare at him before wearily rested his head back down.

Feeling his shoulder relax at the significant loss of weight, but still aching at the sudden change of pressure, Charon stepped pass Gusty and carefully up the stairs. His body begging for rest, he placed his hand on the cheep railing to steady his steps as he scaled the rickety stairs.

Reaching the top floor, he moved past the storage room and to Sara's bedroom; pushing open her partly closed door. It swung open easily and Charon stepped inside, walking to her bed and carefully adjusting her weight over his shoulder as he eased her off him.

She was limp in her unconsciousness and moved to his every tug and nudge as he rested her carefully down onto the bed. With her weight free from him, he stood up away from the bed, rising to his full height as the dull ache in his muscles relaxed - not painful, just uncomfortable.

His eyes stayed fixed on her, studying her form carefully for a moment. Indecision fighting in his mind. Heaving a sigh, he silently scolded himself of even thinking of it, but it didn't stop him from stepping close to her. Leaning down, he let his hand reach out and touch against her neck, feeling the pulse racing under her skin even as a moment's worry drove him to do so.

A slight twinge of relief flooded through his chest and he didn't even realize he was holding his breath.

She was drunk.

She passed out.

That's it. No big deal.

No need to worry.

He shook his head as he internally reminded himself of that fact. No need to worry.

Turning away, he moved down the stairs lazily, each of his steps sluggish and heavy as he traveled down the deteriorated staircase. Stepping into the living room, he collapsed down next to Dogmeat, careful to avoid the equipment and frankly not caring that he was lying next to a dog.

He was tired. And he had a sneaking suspicion that he would be checking on Sara every hour.

No rest for the wicked.

Charon heaved a deep sigh and his eyes drifted shut, letting rest slowly creep over him. If only for a moment.

DISCLAIMER: Sara is Pup-The-Derp's (from dA) Fallout 3 OC and I own everything else, except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe. And that 'book about butts' line is something I saw off tumblr, so I don't own that either.

A/N: Okay, ladies and gentlemen, what you have just experienced is often referred to as SHAMELESS, SHAMELESS FLUFF. With that said, I'm aware this isn't my greatest literary accomplishment, but I found it too funny and too cute to stress over making it poetic or anything like that.

All and all, this story was suddenly at 7,000 words and I hadn't even started editing or adding any real detail. So I cut it, because it was bloody massive.

So, this is the 'Quantum' portion, 'Physics' will come next chapter. Also, I'm fully aware that "I Want To Know What Love Is" by The Foreigners is not a 50s song, but seriously, what drunk person hasn't sung it? Shut up. There's aliens, I think I can stretch the canon just a bit.