To Late To Turn Back

By Jack Manson

The bombs have fallen, and the wars are over, for now. . . .

But we wastelanders fight a new battle. . . .

It's a conflict in our hearts. . . .

The battle to discover where our worth truly lies. . . .

It wasn't the first time Charon or his employer, Vanessa, had to spend the night in an abandoned building, out in the middle of the Capital Wasteland, with a single moldy mattress and no blankets. It wasn't the first time they took turns keeping watch for any raiders or mutants on their way to ransack the structure, and it certainly wasn't the first time the whole routine was too much trouble for what it was worth.

Vanessa was Charon's employer, or more appropriately, his owner. A small, young woman from Vault 101, who, despite her age, was already more infamous than the president of the Enclave. She was asleep then, curled up on the old bed next to the barrel fire, warm underneath her enormous russet duster. Vanessa's wild black hair was a mess around her face as she used her traveling pack as a makeshift pillow, and her hollow, shadowy eyes made her seem like a corpse. Her face was relaxed and peaceful, and each exhale of breath made a lock of her hair flutter near her jaw.

Charon kept watch while she slept. He sat on the edge of the ledge, where the wall was blown away and his legs could dangle over the first and second floors, both of which created a height which looked much different from down below. He was staring out across the wasteland with his milky, heavy-lidded, bulging eyes, and waited for something to move in the dark and show a sign of life. Nothing had moved since he had traded positions with Vanessa two hours ago, and he was becoming quite exhausted. Nothing stirred but dust.

His eyes were unfocused, more so than they normally appeared, and his mangled face seemed set into a permanent scowl, a result of his lack of proper sleep. Vanessa had been asleep long past an hour, but he hadn't felt the need to wake her in order to trade posts, at least not yet. But the idea seemed quite tempting then, and Charon figured he'd have to get on with it before he fell asleep sitting at the edge of the third floor and fell off the edge and broke his neck.

Charon let out a raspy sigh and ran a rough hand over his disfigured head. Behind him, he heard a groan and then an exasperated grunt, as Vanessa crawled off the mattress and sloppily pulled on her duster over her mercenary apparel, so it still hung off her shoulders. It was massive on her, and made her look smaller than she already was.

"You didn't wake me up." She mumbled behind him, dragging her feet as she walked.

"I didn't see the need." Charon replied gruffly without turning. Vanessa stood next to him and pulled the shotgun gently from his hands. He didn't resist.

"Get some sleep." She said softly, nudging him to the side so she could take his spot. "It's almost dawn, I'll pack up and then we can leave."

Without objecting, Charon stood up and slouched away towards the mattress and fell on top of it, falling asleep nearly instantly.

He didn't think he'd been asleep for more than a minute before he heard movement around the room as Vanessa packed away their scarce supplies into traveling bags and pouches before dawn came. She briefly leaned over him on the bed and whispered something about needing the bag he was sleeping on, but he merely rolled over and let her take it without a fight. After that, he drifted in an out of sleep between the seconds, sometimes hearing her, sometimes not. At one point she mumbled something to herself about how they needed more stimpaks, and after that, Charon felt something soft fall over him, and he suddenly felt considerably warmer.

He cracked open an eye and saw Vanessa's back turned to him as she rummaged through a bag of some sort. But he noticed instantly that her duster had been draped over his shoulders. He grunted inaudibly and finally fell into a complete sleep.

Two hours later, the sun had risen over the capital wasteland, and Charon and Vanessa were making their way out of the abandoned complex, their bags slung over their shoulders and their guns loaded in their arms. Charon, of course, was fond of his combat shotgun, and Vanessa used a Gauss Rifle.

"We're going to Megaton to see Church," Vanessa said, stretching her slender arms out over her head and letting out a violent yawn. When she finished, she shook her head and rubbed one of her shadowy eyes. "We need more medical supplies."

Charon gave her a confused stare. "Megaton is half the distance from Paradise Falls." He noted. He didn't even bother to suggest Big Town.

"Yeah? You don't think we have the money to pay that asshole for anything, do you?" Vanessa suddenly looked very dangerous. The medic of the Paradise Falls complex had once sold her dud stimpaks for an extravagant price at a time of great need, and when she found out they had been filled with nothing but irradiated water. . . .well, let's just say Charon had never seen her angrier. He wasn't ashamed to admit he had feared for his own life.

So it was Megaton that Vanessa set her sights on, and they began walking, stifling their mid-morning yawns and cracking their joints while keeping their eyes out for any foes.

It had been three months since Vanessa had obtained Charon's contract, and although he had never learned how she got it, he had a fairly good idea. Charon had been freed from Azrukhal's employment a day after Greta had been found murdered outside Underworld. Of course, he knew the shit Greta had gotten herself into, the debts she had with everyone, especially Azrukhal, were only part of her inevitable fate, and when Vanessa had suddenly shown up, all sharp, steel-colored eyes and wild black hair, brandishing his contract before him thoughtfully, he knew Greta had died at a good price.

"You watch my back, I'll watch yours." That's what Vanessa told him after they left underworld, leaving the Ninth Circle, and Azrukhal's body, behind. She wasn't interested in a bodyguard, nor a slave, but a companion, despite the fact that neither of them had done very much bonding since they'd left. In fact, they hadn't done much talking at all. No conversations, no discussions, no personal questions. Both had silently settled upon a simplistic relationship. They talked, but only when they had too.

Still, Charon wasn't fond of Vanessa. He knew nothing about her, except for her exploits, but they didn't fit the nature he had seen in her so far. She was a tiny thing, short, slender, hardly twenty, but she was a capable individual. Her face was slightly gaunt and pointed, but her eyes were wide, calculating, and hardly friendly. She wasn't an unfriendly person, per say, but unapproachable. Distant. And Charon was nearly certain he had never seen her smile. Perhaps a smirk here or there, maybe a quick, approving grin when the occasion called for it, but never a smile. He wondered if she was even happy.

He didn't like her because she was so strange. One moment she'd be helping some poor wastelander bring back their family member from the Super Mutants, and the next minute she was using her stealth boy to pick pocket Lucas Simms for the Megaton Armory key. Charon could hardly place her in a spectrum, and he felt as if he were the exact opposite. Charon killed anything that was a danger to him or his employer. Charon avoided killing whenever possible. Charon hated talking. Charon was a bit of a bastard. Charon was linear.

And yet, he had never had an employer like her before. Charon was, for lack of a better word, a slave, and Vanessa was his owner. But his other owners gave him orders, while Vanessa gave him guidelines. He hated her because she was his owner, but he liked her because she tried so hard not to be. Just thinking about it made his Ghoulish head swarm sometimes.

"Charon."

He was pulled out of his train of thought as Vanessa came to a stop in front of him, but she didn't turn to look at him. Her voice was always so monotone, it was sickening. She was staring up at the rocky cliff that was up ahead, cutting through their path.

"What is it?" He asked.

She glanced both left and right, seeing how each side of the cliff extended far in each direction. "I don't really feel like walking around that thing," she said matter-of-factly, "how good are you at climbing?"

"Yeah, I can climb." The cliff was jagged, and most of the rocks jutted out far enough to stand on. It seemed easy enough.

Vanessa nodded, her mass of hair moving slightly in the strained breeze. "Good then, because I can't climb worth a damn." They closed the distance between themselves and the base of the cliff before she continued. "You think you could give me a boost?" She asked, glancing at him as she reached up and grabbed the easiest rocks to hoist herself up with.

Charon didn't answer, but he knelt down next to her and cupped his hands close to the ground, and she slipped her right boot into the cradle of his fingers. With little strength required, for Charon was nearly half the size of Vanessa, he pulled her up, and she grunted as she scrambled to find her footing.

"Once more," she called down to him, and with one hand, Charon pushed her up at the small of her back. Her duster hung limply around her tiny frame, and she began to climb. She was slow at first, but soon the rocks became easier to grasp and step on, and she got the hang of it quickly. "Just spot me, will you?" She told him. He mumbled a reply as he began to follow her up the cliff.

It wasn't as bad as it looked from the distance. Most of the climbing was just swinging their legs up over boulders and repeating the process. It wasn't long until they reached the top.

Charon watched as Vanessa's torso disappeared over the top of the boulder, followed quickly by her legs. She was gone for only a moment, however, before she reappeared and extended her arm down for him to take, to help drag him up. He felt the gesture was in vain, however, because although she was strong for her size, she wasn't strong enough to even joke about trying to pull his weight.

Still, Charon reached out his own hand and tried to take hers, but he grasped nothing but air. There was an ear-splitting roar a second later, and Vanessa vanished again over the cliff top as an enormous, clawed appendage struck the ground she had been kneeling on seconds before. It was a deathcalw, unmistakably, and Charon saw it's armored tail whip out over the boulder as it turned on it's heal, most likely chasing Vanessa. The suddenly appearance of the wild creature was so sudden, it took a moment for the Ghoul to realize he was still waiting to get up over the boulder.

There was an urgency to get to the top of the cliff now that was so bewildering, Charon slipped on the rocks the first time he tried to pry himself up. He shook off his confusion, however, and clambered up the boulder and tried to hoist himself up by his arms only. His feet dangled helplessly and his boots scraped across the boulder's smooth edge fruitlessly. From his vantage point, however, he could see both Vanessa and the deathclaw a few yards away from the edge. The monster's back was turned towards him, its tail swinging dangerously back and forth in a threatening gesture.

If Vanessa was worried, she did not show it, though Charon hadn't expected her to. Her expression, as usual, was careful, controlled, and she was aiming her Gauss Rifle as the beast charged, her sharp eyes close to the scope. . . .Bang! The blast hit the monster straight in the neck, and it stumbled backwards slightly, roaring in pain and anger. But a single shot wasn't enough to stop a wasteland beast like this, and it charged again, as Vanessa hurried to reload her rifle.

Charon was up now, fumbling to pull his shotgun from off his shoulder. Like Vanessa, he took aim and-

The shot struck the deathclaw in the back of the head, between the horns, but the thick hide wasn't punctured enough to bring it down, and it stopped for only a moment, whipping around to see whom else it could tear apart. Its evil eyes fell on Charon for only a second, and it decided he could wait. It pivoted once more and tried to finish his charge against Vanessa, only its brief pause had given her enough time to reload the rifle once more.

She shot the creature point blank, and Charon saw nothing but a tangle of limbs in dust as the deathclaw fell forward, followed by a sharp, piercing cry of pain and a final, vicious roar.

Charon stood for a moment, discombobulated, and then realized he couldn't see Vanessa. He rushed to the beast's body and peered over the edge. She was there, pinned to the dirt by her foe's carcass, and her face was screwed up in pain as she fought for air.

"Fuck-" He dropped his gun quickly and braced himself against the deathclaw's body, pushing as hard as he could and with all his strength to force the thing off her. Gradually, as her chest was free, Vanessa let in a greedy inhale of dusty air, coughed up blood, and then let out a terrible, shaky cry. Charon pushed the lifeless animal away from her entirely, and then turned to see what was the matter.

She screamed, "fucking. . . .fuck. . . ." She was tilting her head up to get a better look at her chest, which had been torn open and was bleeding profusely. The sight was sickening, and the blood was thick and gushing.

"Holy shit-" Charon gaped at her. She was messed up-big time. The deathclaw must have slashed her in that final moment before it died and she was bleeding so terribly that the Ghoul could already see the color draining from her already colorless face.

"Charon," she gasped, throwing her head back into the dirt and taking sharp, painful gasps. "We don't have any more stimpaks. I need you to-" she groaned, "-patch me up the old fashioned way."

He stared at her, hesitant. "I'm not a doctor." He said.

She gave him a sharp look. "Fuck you, you're not a doctor!" She snarled, and Charon saw anger flush into her normally stoic eyes. "Just stop the--fuck--bleeding! Wrap me up like a fucking mummy, if you have to!"

He scowled, not enjoying having her anger taken out on him, despite the fact he didn't blame her and would have done the same thing if he were in her position. He pulled his traveling pack from his back and pulled from it several ravels of bandages, a pack of gauges, and a bottle of purified water. He used his knife to cut away the fabric of her mercenary clothes--he didn't hesitate because he knew she kept several pairs of clothes in her bag--and poured the water over the gashes. Charon hardly noticed she was half-naked, and he supposed she didn't care either, because she made no move to cover herself.

The bleeding didn't stop, but he was able to see the severity of the wounds. He frowned, but it wasn't an expression he was used to. It was sympathy, or maybe pity. He realized Vanessa most likely wouldn't survive without stimpaks and a proper doctor. The claw slashes were deep, and long, and as soon as the water washed away the blood, more pooled up around the surfaces and spilled down her chest into the dirt.

Somewhere, in the back of his ghoul mind, a voice said, that wouldn't be so bad. . . .

He ignored it. Charon quickly started pressing the gauges over the slashes, and then wrapped the bandages around her several times, tying them firmly under her arm. He wasn't good at first aid, and hoped he was doing it correctly.

The bandages strained her breathing slightly, but the blood was already starting to slow. Charon was quiet for a moment, before he realized some form of action needed to be taken.

"Now what?" He asked. Charon was used to having Vanessa make the decisions, as well as anyone he worked for, but when he looked up at her face, he realized that, this time, it wasn't the case. At some point she had passed out, and her face was more relaxed as she strained to breath. Her shadowy eyes looked darker than usual now that her skin was deathly pale.

"God damnit." He cursed under his breath, grabbing the back of his mangled head in frustration. But he knew he needed a plan, a route. He needed to find her stimpaks, and keep her alive until he found someone who could properly patch her up, a doctor, or a medic. He thought, at first, of Paradise Falls, but then remembered they had only a couple of caps on them, and the medic there charged a fortune, and charity wasn't in his nature.

Charon didn't even consider Big Town, because the last time Vanessa showed up on their bridge with him by her side, they were welcomed with gunfire, rocks, and a stupid bitch screaming "ghoul-lover!" as they ran for it.

Little Lamplight wouldn't take them in. They weren't friendly towards anyone who was older than twelve, and Charon found that ironic, considering all of them were heading in that direction anyways.

He sighed in that raspy way of his and shook his head. They had to continue on to Megaton. Unless they had a stroke of luck and found another town, or met a traveling doctor, Church was the only one who was a sure bet. That'd take at least three days, though, and Vanessa sure as hell didn't have three days.

So. . . .just leave her. . . .It was the same little voice as before. Charon frowned at it, frowned at Vanessa. It did seem like the easy way out of the predicament. Put her out of her misery and then. . . .the contract. Charon could burn it and be free for good. He'd never be a slave again, he'd be able to. . . .

He shook his head, angry at himself. He had morals too. He may have been a Ghoul of few words, who shot at anything that moved because he was paranoid, and who avoided conversing at nearly all costs, but he had some sense of right and wrong. Vanessa didn't deserve a death like this after all she had done for the Capital wasteland.

But did he deserve it? He was struck with a selfish thought all of a sudden, and imagined himself out there in the wasteland, alone and free of all ties and relations. Free. The word sent a longing through him that he could hardly bear.

And at that moment, Vanessa's cold, strained voice cut through his thoughts, and he heard his name. "Charon." The Ghoul looked at her, and those steel-colored eyes were looking at him as if she could see right into his mind. She was awake again, barely, but the light hadn't yet died out, even though she looked more like a corpse than ever. But Charon saw something on her expression that nearly floored him.

Vanessa was smiling. Hardly, mind you, but it was there all right, and it wasn't a smirk or an approving grin that came and went like the wind, it was a comforting sort of smile, and it made Charon realize that, despite her odd nature, Vanessa was, in fact, human at heart.

"I know what you're thinking," she said softly and quietly, "I'm not an idiot." She paused, grimacing, and then continued, "if you get me to Megaton, alive, I'll burn your contract myself."

There was a split second in which Charon felt his stomach disappear, but it came back as soon as it left, and his misty eyes narrowed ever-so-lightly. He was sure she couldn't have seen it, for her eyes closed again in pain. Was she lying? She could have been; have him keep her alive on the basis of an empty promise, and then, right when his hopes were the highest, she'd take them from him and change her mind.

But, he had trouble believing that. As cunning as Vanessa was, he didn't think she'd do something like that. She was, after all, his most peculiar employer.

"Alright," he said after awhile, long after her smile had faded. Vanessa nodded, acknowledging him, and Charon carefully dragged her up from off the ground and onto his back, so her slender legs hung over his arms, and her body was up against his shoulder blades and spine. Weakly, Vanessa's arms wrapped around Charon's neck, and he paused. It was odd seeing her in such a vulnerable state, when he had been so used to seeing her so fit and alert, capable and strong. Independent. Now, her very life depended on her slave.

"Don't be so rough;" she mumbled into his mutilated ear, "this pain is already bad enough. I think there may have been poison on that fucker's claw."

To his great surprise, Charon chuckled. He was taken aback, for he rarely ever laugh, just as Vanessa rarely ever smiled. "Great," he said, "where to?" He was trying to determine which direction to start in.

"Towards the freeway," she said, glancing at her pipboy. "Just keep heading north."

Charon shifted her gently against his back, distributing her weight more evenly. As he began to walk, he kept all his senses on full alert. He wouldn't be able to just drop Vanessa if some Raider came out of nowhere and thought it was to good day to shoot at everyone and everything, or worse, if another deathclaw picked up their trail.

Eventually, Vanessa drifted off into an agitated sleep, her head resting limply on the back of his shoulder, and her breath on the side of his neck.

This is too much trouble; Charon thought irritably, I should just leave her.

But he felt it was to late for that.