Gob awoke with an uncommon soreness in his arms, but besides that, fiercely content. Stifling a stretch, he left his eyes shut to chase the final moments of allotted rest. The mattress was soft beneath him, and the clothes he wore embraced him with familiar warmth. Apart from the sounds of his breathing, the morning was quiet as lazy dust particles floated in and out of the sunrays that penetrated the sheet metal. He curled his arms into his chest, nuzzling the fluffy blanket that cradled him so tenderly.
The gentle tone of a woman called to him, and a comfortable presence nudged his knee. "Good morning."
His eyes flew open. Where was he? This wasn't his bed. As he scrambled away from the intruding voice, his gaze landed on the smoothskin lying beside him. On her side, Cassie's amused smile melted to friendly concern. She was one of the last things he expected to see.
"It's me," she assured, reaching out while keeping her hand off him. "Hey, no more freaking out, okay? We already did that."
"Cassie," he said, calming down enough to observe his surroundings and sit up. They were both lying on the queen size mattress – him still on the side of the wall and her on the side of the open room. A fallen pile of books lay at the foot of the bed between them, and the frightening stranger from last night remained a pool of brown fabric on the floor by the door.
She followed him up, reclining against the headboard. "Careful," she teased. "If you keep using my first name, I'll begin to think you see me as a friend."
It was obviously morning, as evidenced by the beams of natural light hitting the floor. How long had he slept? Was he late for work? He didn't want his tardiness to get her in trouble.
He ran his hands over his face, now fully awake. "You're still here," he said.
"I am," she replied, "and don't worry, nothing happened. You fell asleep when I was reading King Lear. Do you remember that?"
"I must've been more tired than I thought," he said, his voice rougher than normal. "Sorry. I guess I wasn't expecting you to still be here."
Cassie cast her gaze down, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Well, I would have left earlier," she confessed softly. "I originally planned on leaving when you fell asleep, but uh, I didn't actually notice you were sleeping until . . ."
His full attention was on her, and though she said nothing had happened, apprehension built in his chest as she stammered for words and pursed her lips, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.
"I didn't notice until," she continued with a shy grin, "well, you kinda wrapped your arms around my waist."
His eyes widened. "I did?"
"You have quite the iron grip," she said, "and I didn't want to wake you, so I gave up and went to sleep too."
Ashamed, his head fell into his hands. He could only imagine it – the corpse cuddled up against the innocent smoothskin. She touched him the night before, but that didn't mean she wanted him lying close to her, unknowingly holding her hostage. She'd given him space, space he interpreted as serving both her comfort as well as his. Putting his arms around her – surely that overstepped the line. He didn't know how he would begin his apology, but her voice broke him out of his thoughts.
"You looked happy," she said softly, retrieving his gaze, "when you were asleep." She paused, hoping to alleviate his worries. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much before."
"I'm sorry," he said, though she didn't sound angry. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"No harm done," she said with a friendly shrug. "Don't worry about it. If anything, now we're even for that kissing thing a few weeks ago."
He smiled, remembering the look on Jericho's face and her contrition afterwards. Though she didn't owe him the sentiment, he knew the unintentional outburst distressed her. A few weeks ago. Was that all it had been? A few weeks ago, she narrowly avoided a bar fight with Megaton's notorious ex-raider. Now, she had her sights set on Evergreen Mills. Jericho better watch himself.
"You're sure you're not mad?" he asked.
"Nah," she said. "I'm not mad, but what about you? You're the one that looks like he wants to jump out a window."
"I," he stuttered.
"I know," she interrupted. "We smoothskins with our unbroken flesh and all this annoying hair. I don't blame you for not wanting to touch us. Heck, I'm disgusted on your behalf."
He opened his mouth to deny her ludicrous claim, but upon catching sight of her challenging smirk, he knew she was merely messing with him. A wave of energy washed over him, and in that moment, he wanted to grab her arms and wrestle with her until she was forced to take back every word. Suppressing the sudden urge, he realized he'd never had a spontaneous desire to reach out and grab a smoothskin. He may have wanted, at times, to slap a couple idiotic customers silly, but never to wrestle like a wound-up adolescent.
"You space out on me?" she asked, tilting her head into his askew line of sight.
"No," he replied. "Maybe."
She handed him a bottle of purified water, which he drank.
"Thanks," he said, returning the empty bottle after crawling to sit beside her on the bed with his feet on the floor. "How late is it?"
"It's twenty minutes after seven," she said, consulting the Pip-Boy. "We still have another half-hour, unless you'd like me to leave."
She said it as more of a question than a statement. Not necessarily wanting to see her go, he turned the question on her. "Do you want to leave?"
"Look," she stated, leveling a playful glare at him, "tell me it won't inconvenience you, and I'll stay."
"It won't inconvenience me," he replied straight away.
"Fine," she snapped, a smile still tugging at her lips. "You've spared Evergreen Mills from my wrath for an extra few minutes."
He laughed, and so did she. The sound of their laughter mixing together was music in his ears, and once again he found himself genuinely happy. When it finally died down, he found his thoughts had materialized to words in his mouth.
"In case I forget to say so, I'm glad you arranged this," he said, gesturing to the room, "whatever it is. This time between us."
"You already did, last night. I had to get you away from that bar somehow," Cassie replied.
"I know it's not my place to ask, but how much . . ."
"Don't worry about that, Gob," she said. "If it was only a tenth of the time, I still would've paid a lot more than I did."
He smiled. Maybe it was better if he didn't know. Angling her body towards him, she grew more serious.
"There are one or two things I'd like to say about that, though. Before I leave."
He stiffened, turning to mirror her stance.
"Look," she began quickly, "I'm not mad and you didn't do anything wrong. Okay?"
"Okay," he responded automatically.
"It's just, these are tough facts, and I'm not really sure how to say them without . . ." she said, trailing off.
Scooting closer, he bumped her leg with his knee. "You can tell me anything, smoothskin."
Put at ease by his voluntary proximity, the girl nodded and took a deep breath. After unsuccessfully pinning a lock of hair behind her ear, she fixed her gaze on her friend.
"When I first went to Moriarty to arrange this . . . session," she began, "I wasn't sure he'd allow it. To his credit, he almost turned me down, and it took a lot of convincing to get him to say yes. But in the end, he did say yes, and I was somewhat disappointed that he did. There's no kinder way to say it, Gob, but he sold . . . Well, he sold you, like Nova sells her body."
Gob nodded. He was made well aware of the extent of his boss's control last evening.
Cassie continued. "It didn't sound like he'd done it before, but I need to ask: has Moriarty ever used you like this previously? Or let someone else . . . before?"
"No," he replied solemnly, shaking his head. "This is the first time."
"Good," she said, glad to confirm her suspicions. "But now that he has, in a sense, loaned you out to me, you have to realize that he may be more likely to do it again."
"Yes," he said weakly. "I had considered that."
"I don't want that to happen, Gob," she said. "Especially not because of something I did. So if he ever tries, if he ever forces you to . . . You have to tell me, Gob, right away. No matter how much he threatens you to keep quiet, you have to tell me. And I will make it right, even if it means getting rid of Moriarty."
"Smoothskin, no," he protested.
"Smoothskin, yes," she shot back. "I don't like it when he calls you names, I hate it when he hits you, but I will not stand to see him abuse you like that. You are not a slave, you are not an object – you are a human being. You deserve to be treated with kindness and respect. I've been playing nice and staying within the rules and boundaries, but sometimes wasteland justice is the only option to make things fair. So promise me, Gob. Promise you'll tell me so I can do what needs to be done."
He sat silently for a few moments. What she was asking, it could end badly for either one of them, for both of them, but he knew her look of determination.
"I promise."
Chest heaving with stress, she patted the knee he left resting against her leg. "Thank you," she said. "I hope it never comes to that, but I want you to know that I'll be right behind you in an instant."
"I don't doubt you," he said, remembering that she was the vault hero as well as his frequent customer and friend. "Is that all you wanted to say?"
"I think so," she said. "I hate to be such a buzz kill, but it had to be said."
Cassie stood, letting out quiet groans as she stretched her stiff muscles. Satisfied to copy her movement from the bed, Gob pulled his arms over his head and cracked his vertebrae but eventually found himself watching her. She moved with feminine grace, and her short, airy hair bounced with her movements. Cupping one hand over her mouth, she let out a yawn that swiftly escalated to a frustrated snarl. It both terrified and delighted the staring ghoul.
"Breakfast?" she chirped, swiping her backpack from the floor.
"You mean there's more stuff in that thing?" he demanded.
A few minutes later, they licked cream filling from their fingers, the box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes between them picked clean.
"Mmm," Cassie hummed, "cake for breakfast. I hope I run into some stray raiders on the way so I can put the sugar high to good use."
"Do you have to leave today?" he asked.
"I don't have to do anything, Gob," she exclaimed, tossing up her hands. Apparently, the sugar was already starting to affect her. "Ever since I got out of that vault, there's no school, no meetings. I do something because I wanna do it. No, I don't have to leave today, but I don't want to get in the habit of procrastinating either. I'm ready, all my gear is packed. I just gotta swing by my place, grab it, and go."
"Well, just be sure to be careful out there, okay kid?"
"Aye aye," she replied, giving a mock salute. "What time is it? Gosh, I better get moving so you can go back to the bar and I can prove to Moriarty that I didn't kill you with violent lovemaking."
The flesh on his brow ridge shot up at a comical angle, but she assured him that it was a long story and that he really didn't want to know. Fluttering around the room, she retrieved all the miscellaneous bits she pulled out of her backpack and returned them to the bottomless sack. He aided in these endeavors as much as he could, but unfortunately, her packing technique was way beyond him. When he handed her the stack of books, she stowed them away with the reverent care of antiques, but her hands did not return empty. She pushed the small paperback of Shakespeare's plays back into his hands.
"Here," she said. "I've been meaning to get a new book to you for a while anyways."
Smiling, he tucked the gift into one of his back pockets. She was too good to him.
After making one more check of the room, Cassie returned the bothersome bed to the center of the room with Gob's help.
"Oh, I hope Moriarty has a hangover and was awake enough to hear that," she said. "The little turd," she muttered.
They shared another moment of laughter at the inside joke, but as the minutes ticked away, they were aware of the eventual parting, drawing her to heroism at Evergreen Mills and him to the bar downstairs.
Her disguise waited by her feet. Gob understood all too well the prejudices she risked simply by being in the room, alone, with him; he could not find fault in her caution.
After this, everything would return to normal – his work, her wandering – but yet, she changed everything in a single night. If he had any doubt before that she was a person who could be trusted – with his secrets, with his dreams, with his wellbeing – those doubts no longer mattered. He knew he could trust her completely and with anything. She had his best interest in mind and always would. So inexplicably good, she would probably rip her beating heart out of her chest and hand it to him if he needed it.
She was the only friend he had out in the wide-open wasteland. It didn't matter that he was a ghoul, or even a slave – she treated him as an equal. Whereas the most he could expect from a lot of smoothskins was pity, her demeanor shone with compassion and unbridled understanding. She dialed back this treatment in public, but as their private session proved, she only did so to keep from angering Moriarty and to prevent harm from coming to him. For this, he couldn't be more grateful, though it was painfully obvious she wanted to proclaim their friendship and equality for all to see.
He found himself so moved by her altruism that he had to vocalize his gratitude a second time.
"Thank you," he rasped. "Sm- Cassie, thank you. I know I'll never be able to pay you back. However much this cost you, and everything else. Not just the caps. Thank you, for everything."
"Gob," she sighed, her voice a pleasant harmony of tones. Again, Cassie reached out her hand to him. "May I?"
The ghoul dropped his hesitation and slid into her palm immediately. Shutting his eyes, he savored the feeling of her flawless skin as she lavished her attentions on his other cheek. This time, his hand joined hers without a second thought, and he held her against the side of his face. She felt warm, but just as torturously soft as that first touch. It took the entirety of his concentration to pry open his eyes and listen as she began speaking.
"You don't owe me a single thing," she said, ironically attempting to keep his attention on her confessions while simultaneously distracting him with the slight movement of her fingers. "If anything, it is I who is repaying the kindness you showed me. Without your advice, or words of encouragement, I probably would've been killed a long time ago. It was your voice I heard when I avoided super mutants. It was your warnings that safely steered me clear of places like Paradise Falls and guided me through dark metro tunnels. If it wasn't for you, Gob, I may never have found my father. And when his dream of bringing purified water to the wastes is realized, I'll be able to say, 'It's because Gob in Megaton was my friend.' You saved my life a dozen times over. No Gob, I only hope that I will be able to repay everything you've done for me."
Between her touch and gentle words of sincerity, Gob lost himself in a haze of utter happiness. Despite the restful sleep, contented tiredness tugged on his sleeve. Distantly, he disagreed with nearly every point she made but could not muster the effort to voice these thoughts.
Losing the battle to keep his eyes open, he replied after a powerful inhale, "Just keep ordering cola and beer, and we'll call it even."
"You got it," she said softly, stroking her thumb down his tattered cheek. She felt his hum of pleasure travel through their hands and smiled. If only he knew how much she was willing to do for him – what she would risk, what she would happily give to see him always this happy.
After another few tender moments of the physical contact they both craved, they parted, hands falling to their sides.
"I guess I should get going," she said to his dazed grin.
She draped the oversized cloak over her shoulders and fastened the faded knapsack on her back. When she picked up the helmet and facemask however, she paused, staring into the black eye plate. She held it as she might a disembodied head or a small creature, lips drawn into a thin line as if poised to ask it a question.
Concerned by her silence and straight face, the bartender stepped towards her, reaching for her arm but jerking back with the abrupt return of her voice.
"Gob," she said, keeping her gaze on the helmet. "You told me . . . You said you were glad I arranged this, that you enjoyed yourself."
"Yes?"
At last she tore her eyes from the blastmaster helmet and looked at him. "Would you like . . . I mean, if I negotiated with Moriarty . . . Do you think you might, uhh, be interested in doing this again?"
The ghoul dropped his worried stare to the floor. She wanted his permission? She wanted his permission to spend her caps and make him ludicrously happy? At the same time, he sensed her caution. Making a habit of this unusual meeting could put them both at risk – Moriarty may be even more willing than before to sell the companionable services of his bartender and it would be more likely that Cassie was found out purchasing these services, exposed to the derision and scorn of every other human in the place she called home.
"It'd be risky," she continued, fidgeting with the strap that ran across her chest, "and I'm not sure if I could-"
He cut her off. "It wouldn't inconvenience me," he replied, finding the familiar phrase in his mouth.
That got her to smile, and he did as well.
"Okay," she replied, tossing the helmet between her hands. "Just don't hold your breath. Based on what Moriarty charges, your time is darn expensive."
"Well of course. You can't expect these amazing looks and personality to come cheap."
She laughed again, and although it was short and restrained, he committed every note to his memory.
"I suppose not," she said before fastening the blastmaster helmet in place. Cassie gave him a final wave and opened the unlocked door, descending the stairs to the bar below.
The ghoul had to stop himself from following right away, but when he was sure it was safe, pattered down the stairs to take his customary place behind the counter. The saloon sat empty. Rag in hand, he proceeded in the mindless task of wiping down the wooden surface.
Colin materialized from the storage area behind him, apparently waiting, and chuckling when his presence spooked the barkeeper.
"Still in one piece, I see," he remarked, giving him an intense look-over that had Gob shrinking in the opposite direction. "An' that's sayin' somethin', especially when 'ya look like 'yer about to fall apart anyway."
"Y-yes, sir," Gob stammered. He made an effort to appear unhappy and used.
Moriarty straightened, shoving him aside when he made his way into the private side room. The ghoul wondered if his boss knew what really happened between him and the smoothskin last night – what kind of unthinkable trouble that would put the both of them in.
He rounded the bar to unlock the front door, as was his responsibility, but found the task already completed. Returning to his usual spot, he let out a sigh and shrugged. No customers. No Moriarty to knock him around until any showed up. He flipped on the radio that sat against the wall, directly adjacent to the smoothskin's favorite seat. After Three Dog's short introduction, Bob Crosby played from the flickering device, the waltzy tune singing of rainbows and happiness. Gob hadn't seen a rainbow in decades, but as he leaned over the bar to rest his chin in his palm, he could not disavow his own satisfaction. Today would be a good day.
The door beside him swung open and he turned, expecting Moriarty. Instead, the cloaked figure in the tall black facemask emerged, pausing only long enough to navigate a path around him. He recognized the green duffel bag from earlier, now joining the familiar tan backpack, but did not register its absence. Instead, he restrained the grin that threatened to split him apart as the figure exited through the front door. The imposing build and expansive dark eyes no longer unsettled him, for he now knew there was an angel under the demon's veil.