I watched them disappear, standing in the silence for a minute. That kid, there was something about him. Something, promising. Charon called from the balcony.

"May I move?"

I looked up at him and nodded "Yeah, go ahead."

He hopped over the banister to join me, "Why did you help him?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I felt like I needed to. Plus, you could have blasted his brains out in one good shot if he tried anything funny, right Charon?" A crooked grin cracked my lips.

He tilted his head and shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, I could have."

I gave him a few things to hang onto, so I could gather more shit to sell. We eventually left the museum, itching to get back to Hannibal and the others. We crawled through the metro, fending off raiders and a handful of Supermutants to reach the surface. There was a scaver that I sold our extra stuff to. It took us half a day to reach the Temple, but I was so relieved when we did. Everyone welcomed me home, and of course inquired about Charon.

"This is Charon, my body guard."

"How did you find him?" Alejandra asked, circling Charon like he was some sort of freak of na- well, I guess he kinda was. "It's been ages since I've seen a person so tall."

"Remember the Museum of History that I scouted a month ago? He was the bouncer that almost threw me out. I hired him and now he's with me."

Hannibal offered Charon a handshake. "Please to meet you, Charon. Welcome to freedom."

Charon looked at his hand, crossed his arms and grumbled.

Hannibal awkwardly withdrew his hand and scratched the back of his head. I put my hand on Hannibal's shoulder real quickly. "Sorry, Hannibal. Charon doesn't really do, people things."

"That's alright!" Hannibal smiled, "It's nice to meet you anyways."

"So were there slavers at the Memorial?" Asked Simone.

"Yeah, a whole shit ton of em." I stuffed my hands in my pockets. "Not anymore now, though!" I grinned. They all cheered and I felt proud of myself for a moment. "Charon killed them too." He glanced at me with slight confusion.

I handed the photograph to Caleb, straightened a few things out before talking with Hannibal again. We were going to leave in the morning. Tonight, we'd rest and pray for the day ahead. I never bought into the religion Hannibal set up, but so long as he'd keep me safe I didn't care what he preached. I slept outside with Charon that night. We pulled an extra mattress from the ground floor for him. There wasn't enough room for him in my tiny room. And I couldn't just kick him out, what if something happened?

Charon

For whatever reason, Baldy wanted to keep me company outside tonight. She set up her bed next to mine. They insisted I have a bed. I didn't complain. Once she had herself settled, she just started dressing down to her skivvies. I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't tear my eyes away, but at the same time I was revolted.

She had so many scars. There wasn't an inch of her that didn't have some sort of disfiguring mark. She was talking at me, but I didn't comprehend a word she was saying. It had been decades since I had seen a smoothskin woman this exposed. There was one scar that stood out because it was red and raised, with white stretched out skin on either side along the mark. It ran from her belly button to below her underwear band. I looked away. My eyes were still wide from the suddenness of it all.

"Are you listening?" Her voice popped through the haze in my head.

"N-No."

She sighed heavily. "What, intimidated by a half-naked woman?" A wolfish grin spread across her lips. She dressed into a thick t-shirt and shorts.

I squinted and blurted, "What the fuck happened to you?"

Her expression fell cold, looking at me with sunken blue eyes. "Now as I was saying, we're leaving in the morning at around 6. You'll take the lead, I'll follow up the rear. You'll be keeping watch with Simone. Got all that?" She rubbed her face.

I nodded my head, still looking away. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Staying out here with me. You have a room."

She shrugged. "I feel like shit kicking out like a dog at night." She bit the inside of her cheek and narrowed her eyes. "Am I bothering you?"

"Yes. Well, no."

She chuckled, falling down on the dirty mattress. "Don't think anything of it," She curled up and fell asleep.

While maybe not the healthiest individual, her muscles were defined and strong. There was obvious wear on her from a steady Med-X habit, there wasn't a lot of fat on her. She made up for it in muscle. She had a hardened body. She had obviously been carrying that 'Heavy' thing for some time. She had a mercenary's body. The muscles in her arms, shoulders, hips and legs were buff. She could do a number on anyone with just her fists, let alone a baseball bat or sledgehammer. She'd probably knock someone's head clean off with the right tool. I wondered for a moment if she every used her hands to kill someone. I fell asleep to this thought.

About three hours later it started raining.

The smell of wet pavement alone woke me up. But it was low rumble of thunder that woke her.

"How long has it been raining?" She stretched and yawned.

"Just started."

"Good." She grinned and got up, standing in the middle of it. "I love it when it rains, don't you?" She grinned and held her arms outstretched. She cupped her hands and let the far raindrops fall in her palms. I again, had to look away. She made me nervous. "C'mon, join me."

"No."

"Look man," She planted her hands on her hips. "I'd say we're working pretty close with each other, so we at least have to get along."

"I can get along with you better over here. Away from you."

"Oh come on Charon!" She walked to me and grabbed my wrists and hoisted me to my feet. "You're not gonna melt!" Her hands were warm. She yanked me into the rain and I was instantly annoyed. "C'mon, stop grouching. Enjoy it while it lasts!" She tilted her head again. "Do as I do." She put her rough hands on either side of my face and tipped my head back. I had to close my eyes. She gave me no choice. "Quit fussing! You're so fussy."

I grumbled at her. She nagged me. "I've proved my point. Now relax." She removed her hands and we both stood like idiots in the rain. I didn't see what was so special. I dropped my head back down and looked at her. She looked, happy. Like really happy, not just laughing. It was weird. I noticed another, more faint, scar across her neck became exposed. Like someone had tried to slit her throat.

"Your neck-"

"What aboutit?"

"It's just that- how the fuck did you live?"

She clasped her hand over her throat to hide the disfigurement. "I was too stubborn to die, I guess." She shrugged. She ran a hand over her scalp, flinging hundreds of tiny water droplets. "She didn't even cut me the right way. She was scared, or nervous. Both, probably."

"What do you mean 'didn't cut me the right way'?" I crossed my arms. I didn't thing there was a wrong way to slit someone's throat. You kinda, do it. Quick. Hard. Silent.

"In my experience, there's a wrong way to do anything. She focused on my windpipe, not either artery." Baldy pointed to the sides of her neck. "Right here. I mean, she still sliced it, but she ended up giving me a tracheotomy instead."

"A what?"

She giggled and shook her head. "We should sleep."

"Tell me."

Her eyebrow pulled up. "Are you feeling okay?"

I shrugged. "I don't care if you do."

"Well, in that case, I guess I'll tell you." She walked back to our beds, which were protected by a slab of concrete above out heads. I sat down next to her. We both had our legs extended. Her feet were like a child's compared to mine. It was the only little thing about her. "First, a tracheotomy is when there's something blocking you from breathing. So surgeons will slice open a hole, right here," She pointed to her outstretched neck, "and it'll make a passageway so you can breath." She put her hand down and stared at the sky, "It was about 8 years ago, and there was a crazy bitch in the pens with me. She thought if she killed me, she'd had a better chance of surviving. So in the night, she pulled out a knife she stole off some drunk slaver and quietly snuck up on me. She was able to slice open my throat, granted, but not well enough. I was able to kick her off of me and get the knife out of her hands."

"Did you kill her?"

"No. The slavers came in to check on us and found her covered in blood and me, well, supposed to be dead. We were sold shortly after that to make sure nothing like that happened again." She looked up at me. "And that's the end. Tell me a story."

"I don't have good stories."

"Tell me a boring story."

"There was one time I found a completely intact car. Shiny, clean, even the seats were intact."

"Where did you find it?"

"A pre-war garage."

"What did it look like?"

"Like a car, except there wasn't any rust on it and the paint was red and glossy."

"What did you do?"

"We had fun sitting in it before we had more fun tearing it apart."

She chuckled. "Oh, so you do take pleasure in things besides killing and getting drunk!" The rain started to fizzle out. It never rains for too long. Baldy seemed disappointed. "I'm going back to bed." She lied down on her mattress and fell asleep as quickly as she woke. I sat against the wall, staring into the cloudy black sky.

This woman just told me how she almost died, but she wouldn't share her name.

*Thanks to everyone who has kept with the story! Things get exciting soon. She won't be Baldy forever.*