Things are getting a little more interesting now, thanks to the few of you ( jane-al, InkiBlinkiPinki, and XHellXGeistX ) who reviewed. Hope you like this one as much as the last. :-)
The moment that followed Charon's smile...was awkward.
He fumed. 'Awkward'...that was a word he was becoming quite familiar with as of late and thinking of it only made him angry. However, despite the atmosphere they had created she continued to look at him with an odd glint in her eyes. For a moment he though she may have fallen asleep with her eyes open, but soon after the thought materialized she moved. Her lips twitched and out of his peripherals he saw her legs shift over the other. Her nostrils flared, the only sounds being her movements against a creaky mattress. It seemed like forever that they just stared at each other...
...then in a surprising act she thrust her fist out before him, open palmed. Her fingers moved, out of synch, wiggling, as her eyes moved from his to the bottle that was resting on his knee.
A low sound came out of his mouth as he leaned and exchanged the bottle with her. They did this for most of the early hours of the night until an eerie quite caused them to engage in actual conversation, which in the end didn't last all that long.
"Can't you use the stimpacks?" Her voice was still raspy and low but he could hear her better now, wether that was because of the night's quietness or a sign of her imminent recovery, he didn't know. He hoped the later...
"Yes, I can... but why waste them when I can just wade in the river..." His voice sounded purposefully dull against her ears, even a little bitter. She frowned more than she already did, not understanding the drawback of healing so quickly by something so readily available.
"I guess that makes sense…"
"...You guess?"
He gave her a demeaning look which she should have rebutted against...if she had the energy; instead she just made a guttural noise through her nose. He didn't seem to care, or realize the tone of the noise as he pushed the bottle of vodka towards her. She gave her head a little shake looking like a small child.
Something in him softened, and for a moment he responded to it with fear before realizing how pleasant it was. Just the lackluster moment of boozing with her gave him the feeling of...Comfort? He supposed it felt comfortable, the feeling, maybe even nice.
He looked around him, searching. The object of his desire had fallen on the ground, by his chair leg. He plucked it up and uncapped the stimpack. He'd used one on her earlier before she'd woken up, after he'd gotten her back on the mattress. He'd even brought in a piece of soft cardboard to shield her body from the wet fluids before he had laid her down.
The memory confused him. It's not like it would have matter to the healing process...for her to be...comfortable. The word made him cringe. It wasn't just something he wasn't used to; it was something he had no recollection of. When was the last time he'd been comfortable or comforted...
He drew a blank as he looked down at the stimpack in his hand, looking melancholy. If ever there was a perfect example...Charon was it. It felt like a snake was slithering around in his head. His mind shot off static that confused and pained him. Not knowing what to do he reacted to it with violence.
With a growl he threw the stimpack at her. It hit her collarbone with a 'slap' and she gave a yelp, cursing him after grabbing at the little syringe that began to fumble down her neck.
"What the fuck!"
It wasn't a question. She was pissed and as minor as the pain in her collar bone was compared to the rest of her, it still hurt, and it still was a shock. A moment ago he was fine, at least as far as she knew. Her teeth gleamed in the light of the lamp as she watched his backside while he disappeared into the darkness. He just hit her and left. Her blood boiled as her fists clenched involuntarily.
...fuck is his problem..?
She was not only hurt physically, although not terrible, but she was also emotionally hurt. She was no idiot and she knew he was having mixed feelings about her. He didn't seem like an evil person and maybe his morale was getting in the way of him serving Ahzrukhal. The ghoul could do many things...but hiding the new feelings was not one of them. Or maybe he didn't see the need to hide them since it wouldn't matter in the long run. Not like she could rub it in his face...she was of course still a prisoner. A disabled prisoner, and he was more than likely pissed that she was slowing him down.
For a second she felt her eyes sting, but nothing else came. Her fingers slipped into the holes of the stimpack as her eyes focused on the last place she'd seen Charon. She heard him, faintly, to her left, outside the hideout. She heard the munchof his boots on the ground. Her eyes closed briefly. Before she could be tempted by sleep she stabbed the stimpack into the area above her stitched flesh and in turn, sucked in a deep breath.
It hurt like only disturbing a healing wound could hurt. That sick squishy pain that seemed to ripple into her limps. She pushed the plunger down as fast as she could and slipped it out with ease. Her arms dropped to her side, the stimpack still grasped in her fingers like a psycho junkie. Her face didn't help her addict facade. Her eyes shimmered in relief and her mouth parted; a little shiny spit touching the corner of her mouth.
It was the last one and the relief wasn't as good as she'd hoped. Still it felt better than before, before when she had forgotten what it was like to feel 'normal'.
The minutes passed and the effects of the stimpack began to lull her into sweet sleep. Slow and steady her lids lowered and she did indeed...sleep.
She woke to cursing and hard hands on her shoulders. In her semi-dream state she wondered what was going on...Who was touching her..? The pain followed her into consciousness as her eyes cracked open. Then a sharp pain hit her cheek and jaw. A 'slap' sounded and the flesh of her face stung. She'd been slapped. The pain caused her to groan and reluctantly she opened her eyes fully, staring at the vexed face of Charon.
He looked less than pleased, but her brain only registered the fact that he'd slapped her. On instinct her fist balled and she slugged him off-hand in the bottom of his jaw, almost missing him completely.
The forced turned his head only a few degrees, but he glared at her as if she'd hit him harder. For a moment she feared he'd beat her. If her imagination was stronger she may have expected smoke to flow from his nostrils; that would have matched the look he was giving her now. She saw it, he pulled back to hit her...but nothing came. She hadn't realized she'd squeezed her eyes shut until she began to open them, looking at his confused stance.
He was motionless, fist balled at his side. So close to his side as if he was going to strike her...real...good too. Her eyes shifted and her face lost its color; not that there was much there to begin with. Before she could put on a tough persona her voice failed her and she whimpered like a baby.
He leaned above her, one hand coiled around her shoulder, lifting her up, the other near close to striking her. He stopped before he could strike her, and she was more then relieved.. He didn't know what came over him; thinking of punching a vulnerable woman. He felt sick, literally sick. Those foggy distant eyes of his shifted over her features, over the bruise on her collar bone, then as he pulled back from her, his eyes settled on the fist he'd had balled up. It felt infected, attached to him. All he'd wanted to do was to wake her up. He'd feared she had died while he was having his pity party outside...away from her. He didn't think he'd been gone that long, but when he'd returned she had been unconscious.
He released her shoulder after letting her rest back on the cardboard mattress. He felt like saying something but all he did was kneel to the side of her and stare. She stared up at him as well, eyes glossy and wide.
The stain of red on her face caught his eye, it was onlythen he felt actual guilt. It was evidence. He took in a deep breath and steadied his mind.
"You can't be falling asleep...I told you." He did a good job, at least he thought, of sounding neutral and firm.
"I'm sorry..."
She was quick to respond and he was vaguely surprised. Though, he knew she knew it was dangerous, that she had to stay awake, even if he had to have a meltdown and leave her alone. She couldn't just rely on him to keep her alive. It was her job and she knew it. She knew it.
The days went by slowly, at least for her. After two days she had begun prowling the three sections of the hideout. Stretching her legs as best she could and tending to her wounds with the help of vodka and whiskey. For those days she'd been vomiting what looked like black pellets She knew what they really were though, reading about it in a Medical Journal.
They were actually bits of blood left over in her stomach. None of it however was fresh and that at least told her none of her organs had been punctured or had healed quickly; she didn't know.
The air between her and Charon had improved over time. He scavenged the area above them near the Farragut West Metro Station for bottled water, ammo...and even just yesterday, a stimpack.
She was feeling better but the ghoul had warned her of moving too much.
What he didn't know didn't hurt him...she smiled thumbing through a Nikola, Tesla and You magazine. It was boring...now that she'd read it twice. Her stitches began to itch that morning and for all that were 'holy', she couldn't help rubbing them through her now red faded shirt. The blood had permanently ruined the fabric and now even up to the collar it was tarnished. Tainted.
She licked her thumb and turned a page. A breeze came through the area and blew her hair around. It was cleaner looking now that she'd waded around in the water, but the thought of a bath was very nice. She thought of using the river for one, now that some of the loot Charon had brought back consisted of a bottle of RadX.
Charon was outside in the morning sun, using the light to his advantage as he blew through a part of his dismantled shotgun. He'd found the problem but was spending his time finding a way to fix it. During his little scavenging for the past few days he'd gathered a nice pile of parts to use. If anything it would keep him busy until she was able to travel. He'd already found a shotgun, in poor condition, but he really wanted his old trusty weapon working again. It felt better in his hands then the strangely unfamiliar one he'd pilfered.
Now that the girl was safe to leave alone he'd been making sure to spend as much time away from her as possible. Her constant looks were making him edgy and he looked forward to getting away from her. He could hearher scurrying around; it was calming, which was the problem. He paused; looking around with his eyes squinted. The girl... she was…
He gawked in the blazing sun, what was his problem?
He locked his knees, standing up with determination, and turned to the entrance to the hideout wile keeping his eyes on the ground.
"Get over here." He growled the words.
Soon enough he saw her emerge, slowly, placing one hand on the cement wall. Without warning he grabbed her hand, yanking it off the wall and bunching it up with her other wrist in one of his large rough hands. She made little protest, as this was getting to be common. Him...grabbing her wrists and binding them before leaving her while he left to loot. He wouldn't be gone longer than an hour but already she knew how she'd spend her time.
He buckled the belt tightly around her wrists, the whole thing looked bulking and uncomfortable but it would be taken off when he returned. She didn't look at him, just stared at his fingers as they secured her wrists, the thick reddish brown of the belt, the smell of the dirty leather. For a moment she savored the smell and made a small noise. He paused a moment at the sound but finished with a few final tugs.
He dropped her wrists and left with the functioning shotgun in tow. He didn't see her watch him leave. Watch him stomp up the broken stairs and out of sight. Quickly, or as quickly as a former mortality wounded individual could, she made her way back into the first compartment. Her hands grabbed at the bottle of RadX, fumbling with it at first before popping the lid and painfully swallowing a few. They stuck in her throat and she had to swish spit in her mouth and swallow more thanonce to get them down.
By the time she got to the shore the pills had taken effect. In the hot mid-morning sun the radiated water looked warm... for a moment she hesitated getting in. She had a rag with her, a long frayed one that she would use to dry off. Her smelly clothes needed to be washed too but she didn't think she'd have time before Charon came back.
Her pants she removed, but her shirt she couldn't get off with the situation her wrists found themselves in.
Indeed the water was warm and she secretly enjoyed it despite its chemical smell. Quickly she dunked her head in and shook the filthy hair under water, particles of lint and dirt removed themselves from the stands. She bubbled and gave another few shakes of her head before surfacing with a gasp of air.
The wind blew at her face and cooled her skull, it was pleasant...surprisingly. With one eye on the horizon, keeping watch, she slipped her legs over the other, pushing dirt and grime away. She didn't dare touch her stomach so she rubbed at her arms, shoulders and neck with her hands as much as was possible. Her face she scrubbed with her knuckles, painfully.
The rest of the bath was uneventful, except for the task of getting into her pants. By the time she was done her legs and thighs were covered in more dirt then before...and now her belly throbbed as a result. The walk up the hill to the hideout was difficult and she was winded by the time she stood at the entrance. The sun was warming, which was a change from what she normally felt under the sun.
When her eyes drifted back down from the horizon Charon was standing about 10 feet away. He was staring. It was like déjà vu.
Again they found themselves locking eyes...and she was faintly exposed, due to the thinness of her shirt. This time she didn't feel embarrassed or shy though, he did after all see more than just the expanse of her chest. He seemed to know how she felt; his eyes didn't hold any of the apprehensiveness like before. In fact, with her watching him he actually allowed his eyes to wonder over her breasts. He couldn't see everything, but more than enough to know what she looked like without anything on. She should have felt insulted but she didn't...oddly enough.
He didn't stare too long and sooner than she thought, he was looking into her eyes again.
"This..." he held up his hand, a crumpled, dirty, blue house dress dangled from his fingers, "...should help both of us."
Then he walked past her, ignoring her almost, and disappeared into the hideout. She followed, eager to sterilize her wounds and put on something that didn't reek of piss. She nearly stumbled inside, catching the attention of the ghoul accidently.
He stared again...not at her face.
She felt a weird prickling on her skin...she looked down. Goosebumps, he'd given her goosebumps.
She gulped and sat down delicately in a plastic chair, reaching out and grasping the vodka on the table. He was setting a bottle of booze on an adjacent table and placing other odd and ends around the sections, giving her looks every now and then, which she did her best to brush off.
"Did you find anymore stimpacks...or water?"
She turned to look at him and sure enough he pulled a stimpack from between his waist and one of his belt loops. He started towards her, his boots making hard sounds on the ground. Her heart beatwith each step he took...she almost winced when he pulled at her wrists, taking the vodka from her hands. He released her bounds while setting the stimpack on the table, in order to do so he had to lean over her ever so slightly. It was a purposeful movement and she felt her belly curl in something other than pain.
She didn't see him smirk but she could have sworn she felt it; the air was thick with something...that she chose to ignore. Eventually he was gone and just like that she was alone. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks and she pulled it away with a grumble. Some of the stuff that he brought, she noted, was food. Nothing wonderful, but something to fill the raw hole of her stomach. It began talking to her last night and she even dreamt of squirrel on a stick, as gross as it sounded.
He'd left the house dress on a crate in the corner and with a few glances to make sure he was gone she began removing her clothes. As she undressed she wished she'd had something to torch the clothes with. If she never saw them again she'd be happy. Ridding herself of them and the memory of the past few days was a more than welcomed treat.
For a moment she stood, bare and cold in the dim enclosure, not really thinking of the possibility of the ghoul waltzing back in.
The absence of clothing felt good...too good. Her fingers traced the outsides of her backwards 'Z', fighting the urge to scratch at them. Despite what one may think she didn't feel any loss at the damaged and twisted skin, it wasn't like scars were uncommon in the wastes and she wasn't one to flash off any bare skin. Unless you where in a settlement… skin just got you into trouble... and one had only so much luck.
She stared down her body, down the valley of her breasts, the nipples arched against the cold, down to her torn belly. Still her eyes were drawn to the stitches and ribbons of red flesh. It was a point of interest on a normally boring surface. A pit-stop. She smiled. Tentatively she began to press her fingers into the healing flesh, careful not to break the skin but to the point that she couldn't feel the details of the crusty skin. Her attention and fingers were focused on one thing, so much … that she didn't notice the dark figure half hidden behind the cement wall. The eyes shifting in their sockets over the stark skin.
He watched her, as she poured the prickling alcohol over her gunshot wound. She didn't pat the skin, just let the vodka drip down to her feet and dry on its own. The dress concealed her sooner then he'd liked, the fabric draped over her hips and shoulder loosely, still it looked nice. Before Charon left he admired how much she resembled her former self when she'd first encountered him. The pretty little vault girl was now standing before him. Quietly he slipped away before she turned to treat herself to food and the stimpack he'd gotten for her.
He heard her from against the outside wall. His head came in contact with the cement as he looked up, the sun shining in his eyes. He welcomed the burning, hoping it would distract the blood that was already flowing to his dick. He was begining to think Ahzrukhal was truly going to kill him when he returned...
The dilemma begins...
