A Brief Apology: I am truly sorry to anyone who had read the first chapter of this when I first posted a year ago and had wanted to follow it. Not long after I began my external hard drive had an accident. I believe its something to do with the power portion and not the actual memory, but the problem remained that I was cut off from my writing, not just my fanfiction but three years worth of original writing and novels as well as all my pictures and personal documents. It was more than overwhelming, especially because the accident happened on my birthday I felt the fates hated me. For the past year I've been in a writing slump, more like a writing depression and no matter how much I tried to work on anything it all came to naught. I still haven't been able to scrounge enough money to get my hard drive fixed and am a little afraid to in case I truly have lost everything, although it would be nice to retrieve my other Fallout story which was a good twenty pages and two chapters of some of the best writing I've ever done. Despite this I have a renewed vigor that has allowed me to begin writing again, and although I can't access the original two chapters of Derelict (my other fallout story) I have begun to work on the third, as well as its companion story, The Searchers, and have finally typed out Chapter Two of "Someone I Used to Know." At this moment I have already begun work on Chapter Three and hope to have it out soon. I mean it this time.

By the way, Happy Valentine's Day everyone. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Two

The Protector

"Did you hear that?"

Slender fingers reached out from the darkness and grasped the arm of his jacket. Almost as quickly as the desperate panic had set in it was gone and the fingers slipped away, releasing him with a touch of embarrassment tainting the movement. Charon didn't say a word in acknowledgment. He knew that his employer was a sensitive one. In fact, over the time they'd worked together he'd come to know almost everything there was about her. He knew every fear, every joy, and every little quirk – annoying and endearing and sometimes both. Others might not have believed it due to the constant reports of her brave heroism that Three-Dog spouted over the radio, but she was not the perfect little warrior she appeared to be.

Sadly there was no doubt in his mind that if the populous saw this side of their wasteland wanderer that they would begin to lose faith in her, lose their own hope for a better tomorrow. She might even find herself in greater danger to the scum of the barrens of what once was the shining edifice of civilization. Yet, Charon considered himself lucky to see this side of her, the side that clung to him in the dark. Her vulnerabilities, her imperfections were what made her a true heroine in his eyes. They made her human, and they made her more worthy than anyone to be D.C.'s savior. She'd come through nightmares most couldn't fathom, and not because she was born with this innate ability to lead or be a hero, but because she fought like hell to be there.

Fought like hell for strangers.

Charon had been one of those strangers once, listening to her exploits and thinking on how someone like that couldn't really exist, and if they did how their luck would run out sooner or later. He'd seen it a million times before. Some idealist takes it upon themself to save the world and then come to find out they couldn't even save their own ass. Then she'd appeared, dusty and irritated as all get out from the firefight she'd had with some super mutants on her way to Underworld. Claimed she'd been looking for the place a long time so she could give someone a message and did they know Carol?

She would drop by the community every so often, bringing supplies and whatnot, and Charon'd almost forgotten the passing conversation she'd had with old Azhrukal about his contract until the day she came into the Ninth Circle, this strange smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. She didn't even flinch when Charon had walked over and put Azhrukal out of everyone else's misery. She'd just smiled and said, "I think we'll get along just fine."

They'd been partners ever since.

Charon didn't answer her right off, but stood statue still as he listened to their surroundings. He was trying to pinpoint what it was that she had heard; if there was anything to hear at all. At first there was nothing but the empty still of the underground subway tunnels. Then he heard it. It was a familiar crunching smacking sound that usually accompanied the rending of flesh. Something was dead down here, but what was worse was the fact that whatever had probably killed it was down here with them.

At the very best it might be a wild dog, or possibly even an errant mole rat. At the very worst they would probably encounter a feral ghoul, of which caliber he could not exactly tell, especially when he couldn't make out if that is what it was at all. "Stay here." He said, a gruff edge to his voice that meant there would be no arguments. He knew she feared the darkness of the tunnels, but he couldn't afford any distractions while he searched for the culprit of her panic. Her hand tugging on his clothes was definitely a distraction.

He heard her exhale as her lips parted, ready to say something, maybe beg him to let her go with him, but she stayed quiet and allowed him to move forward without her. Many would not think that someone as tall and muscular as he was could move so stealthy, but he did so with efficiency and confidence. Charon knew the Lone Wanderer was watching, probably biting her bottom lip nervously with her arms crossed protectively over her as if she were cold. Providing the image that everything was fine and he had everything under control was key to keeping her from flying into a complete panic. Even when he wasn't always sure himself he made her believe that everything was okay, and between the two of them they'd made it so up to this point.

He came to the end of the tunnel and surveyed the large junction point that was the station. The tunnels, though tight and dark, provided a cozy safety that a large area like this didn't permit. Out here there was too much debris, giving raiders and other enemies too many places to hide in wait. Just like standing in the middle of a clearing in a lightning storm, you didn't want to be caught standing in the middle of a place like this with nowhere to go, especially with the level above him perfect for assholes to perch on with a higher advantage.

A clang of metal brought his attention to his right where, crouched on a pile of concrete, a feral ghoul bent over something. Charon could smell the distinct scent of blood and knew that the lump in the feral's hand was most likely part of whatever – or whoever – it had recently killed. It paid him no mind. He swiveled his gaze back in front of him to see at least three more in varying positions underneath the platform; they were far enough away to not pose any problems. At the top of the stairs, next to an old makeshift shelter he saw a couple more milling about, purposeless. He noted the proximity to the right staircase to the open archway leading to the metro exit and their position farther left. If he took care of the feral to his right in silence and the two of them could sneak up the stairs they could make a break for the exit and be home free. If that was one thing he knew about his employer it was that she was fast, the fastest he'd ever seen.

He was completing his plan of action when he heard the timid voice behind him in the darkness. "Charon, did you find anything?"

"I told you to—" stay back, he had wanted to finish. The high screech of the closest feral ghoul interrupted him, sensing new prey in the area. Sensing the girl.

"Eleanor, run." He ordered. His voice was calm, but grave, carrying with it an underlying current of urgency. He reached behind him and grasped her arm, thrusting her in front of him and towards the right stairs. "Go for the exit."

"They're right there!" Her voice rose in horror as she saw the others.

"You can make it, I promise! Just go, now!" He shouted, and he had to hope she listened, for when he turned his attention back to the feral ghoul barreling down the debris pile he had to give his full concentration to it. Before it could finish its descent Charon swung his shotgun around and blasted it back. He was originally going to swiftly dispatch it with a knife, but silence wasn't an option anymore. Speed was. It had alerted the other ones in the area and he could hear their cries of hunger and violence as they turned to search for the source of interest.

One he hadn't seen rushed from the black corner by the stairs and groped its long skeletal hands for the retreating young woman. The tips of its fingers caught the back of her boot and threw off her balance. She pitched forward, her knee cracking against one of the steps painfully.

"Nora!" He raised his gun again to no avail. It was too close to her. If he shot at it now it could hit her and they'd be in worse trouble.

She flipped around and reared her feet back, her knees almost meeting her chest, before kicking out with a vicious scream. Her boots connected with the feral's head and knocked it back far enough for Charon to get one good shot in. The attacking beast jerked from the impact fell, twitching, onto the ground. He crossed the space between them and aimed down at the half-alive mass and pulled the trigger. When he looked back up Nora was already near the top of the staircase, but was blocked by the feral ghouls that had become aware of the commotion and intended to cut her off, whether by some remembered subconscious strategy or just chance. Before they completely closed in on the entrance to the stairs she leaped passed them and hit the concrete floor. He could hear the telltale scrapping of her boots against the dirt as she scrambled to her feet, continuing to move.

He sprinted up the stairs to follow her, not wanting her too far out of his sights. He had no idea what was waiting on that top level and he didn't want their convenient partnership ending because of a miscalculation. He was supposed to protect her and if he failed –

"Charon!" The absolute terror in her voice caused his head to snap up towards the sound. He couldn't see the ferals anymore, but could hear their guttural growling. Her cry spurred him to take two steps at a time, reaching the top just in time to see her fall backwards in an attempt to avoid one of the creature's clawed swipes. Her panicked eyes met his for a moment before she had to throw her arms up to defend herself. His body took over, instantly moving to block their attacks.

One of them had been in mid-lunge, teeth bared and caught his arm. He felt the ripping of skin and the familiar warm sensation as his blood rushed to meet the wound. Without having to look he already knew that it was bad. Claws tore at his skin and he turned his weapon sideways to bash the attackers backwards, giving him the room to aim. He took off one of their heads in a cloud of bloody mist, bone fragments and brain matter raining down onto the concrete at his feet. Then he was hit from the side, the ferals from below finally arriving into the battle. The force knocked him sideways and he was thrown over a pile of concrete.

The pain was tremendous, causing his vision to blur and sway, his mind almost cascading fully into blackness before another jolt brought him back. Jagged debris had pierced straight through to his back, tearing through his skin and muscle. The roar that tumbled from his throat was animalistic and frightening as he pulled himself up. The fury pounding through his agony-ridden body fueled the energy to clear his way through the onslaught.

He didn't look back as he rushed to the Wanderer's side and grasped her arm. Gentle was no longer in his vocabulary and he vaguely noted her cry of surprise as he jerked her forward. They propelled themselves on, and even through it was probably just twenty seconds from the battlegrounds to the sight of the metro entrance that criss-crossed metal partition seemed more like the gates of heaven. They burst through them into the cool night air and slammed it shut with an echoing clang jut seconds before the creatures slammed into it. But they were safe now.

The wall felt cool on his back as he leaned against it, but the pressure on his wounds sent another wave of pain that caused him to shut his eyes and groan in protest. When it subsided he looked at her, bent over with her hands on her knees, and rasped, "Nora, are you hurt?"

"No. No, I think I'm fine. God, Charon, if you hadn't–" She had turned to look at him now, but her face fell and the color drained right out of it. Her delicate hand fluttered to her lips when her eyes fell on the still bleeding tear in his arm. She was immediately at his side, urging him to sit down as she ripped her bandana off her head and started digging through her pack. Moments later she pulled out water and a bottle of alcohol. She rinsed the bandana in the water first, and then dipped it in the alcohol before wrapping it around the wound, the sting causing him to seethe as it met even more raw flesh than usual.

His vision was fading rapidly and the sounds around them were becoming distant and muffled. Now that the adrenaline was flushing from his system the fatigue was washing over him and the damage began to take its toll. He hadn't felt this bad in a long time. His uninjured arm reached out and grabbed hers, "go get Willow."

"I can't just leave you alone." Nora protested.

"You're going to have to." That phrase affected the girl strongly, and the look that melted upon her face was one of dawning realization that this was a desperate situation. She nodded at him and slung the pack over her shoulder. As unconsciousness took its black hold over him he wondered if that fading image would be the last time he ever saw his employer. His eyes slid shut again, and this time they didn't open.

He would rest now.

She was safe.

End Author's Note: I hope you liked it. I'm honestly a little worried though about the way I wrote Charon. I do not want to make him too... soft. However, through observation I believe on the inside he's a decent, perhaps kind individual, but because of his life he just doesn't know how to express his feelings, or perhaps even acknowledge them. I tried to make him more gruff on the outside, but show that inside he really does have that kind side to him. Please let me know what you think, not just about this, but the story in general. Any feedback is nice and if you're like me, one of those shy lurkers that is kind of afraid to say anything, don't be. Even the smallest sentence can brighten my day or help me with the story.

Next Chapter: Since much of this story will deal with two time periods, one being the present and the other being almost flashback chapters of a previous employer of Charon's, I'm trying to consider whether I want the next chapter to be the beginning of the past chapters or a continuation of the present situation. I've got versions of both in the works, but have to decide which one to post. Any thoughts on what you would like to see?