Note: Rating is for language, gory, bloody bits and some other things. I don't own anything Fallout…I merely write fanfiction for my own entertainment. And they're a bit OOC. Okay a lot. Just so you know, this story has an eventual Charon/LW. Yeah. On to the story. Oh and thanks for even giving this story a try. Hope you enjoy it!

"Relax, smoothskin."

"Sorry, Doc," Knox murmured. He unclenched his fist and Doc Barrows pierced the skin. Knox watched the syringe fill up with his blood and then, the long needle left the wound. Nurse gave him a bandaid. He shook his head at her as he saw a droplet of blood swell over the wound. He caught it with his finger then put it on his lips, tasting the copper on his tongue. Doc muttered medical things and Knox zoned out. Sure, he was a doctor's son but he didn't care to hear all the crap. He knew what was going on and that was enough. Nurse smiled at him and he shrugged in response, sticking his tongue out at Doc's back. Nurse giggled. Doc Barrows turned to stare at him with questions tainting his otherwise calm face.

"What is it?" Knox asked. Doc frowned and asked him why he wasn't affected by radiation.

"You've been here for 5 months."

"Maybe Vault kids don't get irradiated easily?" Knox shrugged. "Look, Doc. I don't know shit. But you guys aren't walking toxic cans." Barrows quirked a small smile before he gestured for Knox to leave.

As he pushed open the door of the Chop Shop, Winthrop raised his nonexistent eyebrows and threw the cigarette he was smoking onto the floor.

"Took you long enough, smoothskin," he complained without venom, smoke curling out his mouth. He turned and headed to his 'office' which actually was the basement. Knox snorted and followed him.

"It ain't me. You know how the Doc is."

"How's it going then? The cure…" Winthrop's voice trailed off. Knox coughed.

"Hasn't said anything about it. I stopped asking cause it upsets him." You know how the Doc is. Win just nodded absent-mindedly as they entered the office. They set to work on the radiators again today. The rattling of old pipes and stench of older dirt sickened him in more ways than one. The good part of his conscience told him he was doing it to dig an early grave on purpose. Then the logical part of his brain told him he was better off arm wrestling Deathclaws. Winthrop had another cigarette between his lips, the soft glow of the flame made his face seem more grotesque in the red light. The twisted veins, the thread of muscles, the torn flesh painted a painful picture. The pang of hurt returned to clench Knox's heart again. He ran his grimy hands through his hair and excused himself out of the basement. Winthrop grunted in response.

He retreated outside of the museum where Willow smiled at him from the railing. Closing his eyes, he slipped a cigarette between his lips. He felt tense. He felt like killing things.

It was on his shoulders, wasn't it? The whole fucking world. Living among ghouls reminded him everyday of how he was letting them all down. The fucking cure… Everyone wanted it. When he first reached Underworld, he agreed to help Doc Barrows work on a cure for ghoulification. Nothing was moving, especially not the shitload of human corpses that he carved up for some human donations. Nothing was going well. Then again, when had anything gone well?

Since then, Barrows had done nothing but take a blood sample from him every day and night and advised him to quit smoking. Knox inhaled, letting the smoke fill him before exhaling. Willow leaned against the wall next to him. Her pale eyes roamed over his body, washing him with her signature quizzical look. Knox offered her a cigarette. She declined. He calmly asked her if she wanted his tongue down her throat instead. She laughed her booming laugh, the one that told him he was being an idiot. It seemed like Butch's techniques of getting into anyone's pants weren't working much outside the vault.

"Hey Doc. So, when can I go shoot stuff?" Knox said when he pushed open the door to the Chop Shop.

"I need you to inject, not shoot –"

"Inject. Shoot. Whatever."

"I have a few tests but I should be there with you –"

"No way, Doc. They'd gut you. I am using Roy's mask, ain't I?"

"After the last time? Mask or not, the ferals still attacked you when you injected the serum."

"Look, Doc-" Knox sat down on one of the cots.

"I am not giving you the field tests if you're just going to get hurt again. No arguments." Knox ran his fingers through his hair. Sure, he knew what happened the previous time. It was fine when he entered the feral ghoul sanctuary with the ghoul mask. He assumed from watching the ferals interacted that they did not mind a little rough manhandling from each other. It was almost affectionate somewhat. So, when he pierced a crouching feral with the serum, he didn't expect the creature to turn on him, causing the other ferals to pounce on him as well. He only barely managed to escape without killing the 'test subjects' and himself. "I know you think you can survive anything but you are the only smoothskin willing to help me in this. I need you alive. We ALL do."

"FINE, Doc. What would you have me do then?" Knox glowered, running a tongue over his lower lip before worrying it between his lips. Oh, he wanted to say many things but they weren't particularly nice to the good doctor. And the doctor was one of the very few good men in the Wastes.

Doc Barrows gave him a peculiar calculating gaze, tapping a crooked finger on his chin.

"Do you know Ahzrukhal?"

"Shit. Yes, doc. I live here don't I?" Doc Barrows gave him a very bemused smile.