Okay, so I wrote this intoxicated. I've gone over it like three times and I think I have sufficiently gotten rid of any spelling errors or grammatical errors, however, if not then I apologize. It's a long one. I thought of breaking it into two chapters but that would be cheap. Anyways, thanks KMN91, Kingoftheplankton, LillyWhiteRosePetals, Basique Demique, Kuroi Diamond, Kanti, and InkiBlinkiPinki they were all very inspiring and I hope I don't disappoint you all with this chapter.


"Hurry up.", the ghoul's grumbling voice spoke to her, simulating unpleasantness as she trailed behind him. Like inky little blobs they paced their way up the cement stairs. He didn't have the patience for her to be so slow, and was desperately trying to hurry. The sooner he was done with this...the better. He frowned; it was a chant he repeated over and over in his head. 'The sooner, the better.'

They left when night fell. A bout of super mutants appeared yesterday and he didn't want the trouble, even if she was in peak condition...which she wasn't.

She cast her eyes down to his feet, watching them move mechanically ever forward. A frown fell on her face thinking of something he had said earlier, something that involved the word 'babysitter'. It would have been laughable if he had not said it with such venom. It was the first thing she heard from him when he woke her up from her afternoon nap. The tone he used was still fresh in her mind...she loathed him then at that moment as his broad figure continued to out-walk her.

"Im coming...", she grumbled, her wrists again bound and itchy. It took more energy then she would ever admit to just keep the pace he set.

It was dark, the moon was shrouded by more clouds then she could ever remembering seeing in the sky before. It was a strange night. Consistently she found herself staring up and falling behind again, which seemed to be the last time...according to Charon..

"Goddamnitt, I said hurry up!"

She flinched as he came at her with a snarl on his face. They were only a few yards away from the descending stairs of the Metro Station. He couldn't wait just a minute more for her too look up at the sky? She returned his snarl but he didn't care. He was already grabbing at her arms and yanking her with him. He had been rough with her ever since yesterday, despite the fact that he constantly mentioned she was still to be careful, that her wounds could still open if she wasn't...She winced in thought, what was the term he used...? '..on the qui vive..?' She didn't know what that meant but she understood her own lack of awareness when it came to her healing lesions.

"..hey!..", the voice came out more nasally then she intended.

Stil..she responded to him with anger.

With a hard tug she ripped her arm from his grasp and took a few steps back all the while fuming. She was sick of his treatment, even though in the back of her mind she told herself to be grateful, it could have been worse...way worse. Though that little voice was ignored and she opened her mouth to spew forth an insult.

"Fuck off!... I know how to walk..asshole.", she glared at him, the best bitch look she could muster and still he managed to out do her. Her smooth features were no match for his hardened ones, and he definitely looked sinister.

His eyes looked black in the night and the line of his mouth turned down in a maddening expression. She had never seen it before...and it scared her..not like the other looks she now remembered receiving.

Charon didn't know how a smoothskin could evoke such rage from him that even Akzrukhal couldn't muster in over seventy years. In a way it was exhilarating, but the feeling was beginning to ebb into mild arousal, which was not something he wanted to tempt. The last few time this is how his rage ended, it was not only embarrassing but dangerous. The more days that past the more he found himself justifying the possibility of acting on his impulses.

Even though he knew she wasn't in the best of condition to navigate the Tunnels with him...it was this or spend more idle time with her. He remembered an old saying about 'idle hands' and the 'devil'; it didn't make him feel any better. So..with out tempting fate he turned his back and began down the stairs. For a moment he didn't hear her follow him, though as he reached the bottom her footsteps began 'padding' down behind him.

He opened the chain gate, turning to look at her with the tilt of his head. The moon illuminated her as she slowly stepped down, putting two feet on each stair. The last ten steps she became engulfed in shadows and before he knew it her black figure was heading past him and through the entrance/exit. His eyes followed her before he too trailed behind her, letting the gate slam behind him. The sound was loud and he felt vaguely impressed she didn't flinch.

The inside of the Tunnels was just how he remembered it, the underlying smell of stale water and...something gaseous. He didn't think it would ever change...

The bulbs in the back must have finally broken, it looked more oppressive on second glance. His foggy eyes settled on her back, she was looking around with her fingers tied in the fabric belt of her dress, rubbing at the itchy stitched flesh.

"You know you should leave that alone...", she stared at him as he spoke, he nodded to the hands she had on her belly. She looked ashamed for a split-second before it was replaced by annoyance.

Out of the corner of his eye, while he remained transfixed on her, he noticed two small shiny dots in the darkness ahead.

He should have known instantly what they, the yellow dots, belonged to. As if on cue the familiar noise of the feral hit his eardrums, loud and long. Both her and Charon remained still, him knowing where the feral was and her oblivious.

"Shit!", she squeaked.

She knew what it was but with her situation as a prisoner she couldn't defend herself. The noised reached its peak, becoming a wet croaking yell...ending in a soft gurgle. The teeth gleamed in the dark. First its ripped face and fingers became visible in the dark, followed by the rest of its malnourished body as it trudged with good speed right at her. Its hands formed claws near its head, seeing nothing but a meal. If it wasn't a..mildly serious situation, he would have smirked at the looked of utter terror that crossed the girls face, not that he enjoyed her pain...it was...just funny; until it bit her head off.

"Get down!...Now!", he growled already with a plan of action in mind. Even to him it looked hideous and terrifying.

In the last second before the feral ghoul rounded on her she crouch down with a jerk, balling up on the floor. The move worked. The feral in turn tripped over her in its stupor and tumbled head first against the tiled wall. He'd seen and heard the squish of the feral's skull against the wall, even though it began to lurch up, no doubt ready to continue its attack on either of them.

The blunder gave Charon enough time to have his shotgun aligned perfectly with the now soft head of the feral. As soon as his buckshot hit its intended target the once intact skull exploded across everything in a three-feet radius, including the curled up vault girl on the dirty wet floor, now also bloody.

Unlike what he had originally thought, the contents of its head were more liquid based then chunky, a sheen of thick gooey paste graced the back of her, all over the dress he found for her. Secretly he winced at the thought of finding more clothing for her, it was hard the first time...maybe her luck was truly beginning to dwindle. That smell would only get worse with time.

Her head lifted slow, some red bits dribbled down her shoulders, and she made a disgusted whine. He understood, it must have been warm and already soaking through the thin dress to the skin beneath. The poor little vault girl..

"...ughnn.", he groaned for what felt like the hundredth time.

Stiffly she rose to a standing position, her head was angled in a weird way, trying to keep a slushy chunk from falling down her chest. She breathed in through her mouth, no doubt avoiding the stench. The smell was indeed horrid...and she winced turning to Charon. He looked sympathetic, and it helped...a little. She turned her eyes away and shivered in repulsion.

"...oh..god...its warm...and...ugh...help?"

Again her eyes turned up to his and her lower lip puffed out, wether it was intentional or not it had the same effect. He felt a warmth in his stomach and with an odd finesse, walked to her. He didn't even look at her as he gently grabbed the bottom of one arm and pulled her through the dark corridor. He could see better then she, but not much better.

She made pitiful sounds all the way.

The archway lead down to a lobby of sorts, here he hoped to pilfer something for her to wear. He couldn't remember wether he killed that raider girl at the start of his journey or the end, but regardless she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Suitcases and crates littered the floor but many were visibly empty, which limited his hoped considerably. If he didn't find her something fresh to wear then there were only one of two options, her keeping her clothes on and smelling was the more likely one...the other he didn't even envision, it would have been the end of his self control...that much was sure.

He let go off her and she stopped were he left her. 'Dripping' sounds echoed from her as the goo fell to the floor.

"...mnn!..", something solid slid down her back, trailing down a leg, wet and warm.

She watched his back as he went from bench to bench, rifling through rags and empty bottles. A tin can rattled near her and she kicked it absentmindedly off to the side, using it as an effective distraction. The ghoul looked up for a moment before continuing his task.

He hadn't thought of the consequences of shooting the feral in the head above her. This was his fault even if he wouldn't vocalize it and now...he was perturbed as he searched for something that didn't smell of ..pure...rot...

Bingo..

"Get over here.", he commanded and nodded his head while not really looking at her, sure enough she began to tip-toe towards him, still stiff.

She stood behind him, looking over his shoulder as he stretch out some raggedy green fabric; the edges looked burnt and wet..

With her eyes glued to the 'clean' dress in his hands she barely noticed him turn and strand before her. Her eyes slowly trudged up from the green dress up his leather chest...to his face. His eyes looked distant..and she was about to speak before she felt hard fingers at her breast plate. They felt hotter then she ever thought they would. She felt the color drain out of her face as he flicked one button loose, exposing the jut of her collar bone.

He had imagined peeling her dress off, a few minutes after he realized he needed to find her some fresher clothing. Off and on he'd think of popping the buttons off one by one, ignoring the smell of course; pushing the cloth aside, revealing the smooth freckled skin.

When he wrapped his fingers around the 'new' dress again he thought of disrobing her, of splaying his fingers under the fabric and pushing the dress off her shoulders...

He moaned, but it came out a groan...he had been thinking about it so vividly that he could almost feel the skin, the breath on his throat as he aroused her like she did him. He blinked feeling a tug at his brain. He paused, looking down at his hands.

A female sound filled his head and that as well brought him closer to reality. His eyes fixed on his fingers, they rested on the bare flesh of the girls chest. They lingered above the mounds of flesh, one button between two fingers. She was red faced and a look of subsiding surprise was on her features.

The situation had been surreal, he had been imagining it..visualizing it...when had his hands begun to move? When had his body begun moving with out his say-so? "...", this was an action that scared him, he hadn't realized he was doing it. He attempted to speak, still with his hands on her but nothing came out.

She didn't make a move to get away from him, just stood with those eyes slanted and that mouth parted. He hated her as much as he hated himself at that moment. He'd touched her, and wether or not it qualified under Ahzrukhal threat it didn't matter. If he hadn't surfaced above imagination he could have done much..much more. Still he couldn't take his hands from her...why? A ball of fear began swirling in his chest as a twitching sensation traveled down his arms to the tips of his fingers.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse it did...He watched in horror as his right hand drug itself along the expanse of her exposed flesh, up to cup the side of her neck. He felt like a passenger in his own body, watching himself sink into oblivion. The feel of the smooth, slightly damp flesh...his brain began to short-wire on him. The worst part was her reaction..or lack there of. Why wasn't she repulsed...? or at least surprised?

He wished she'd pull away, hit him...anything to shake him from his zombie daze.

He watched her face, taking his eyes from his wandering hands. The look only caused a pang in his stomach, a good, good pang...one that sparked a connection between his brain and his hands.

The hands on her skin were innocent compared to other hands she'd had on her, and despite the feeling to pull away she stayed; the foreign feeling of his roughened hands was even pleasant. One of his hands began to sliver cautiously between her breasts and suddenly she felt the need to speak ten-fold.

"C..char...-", she froze as he, like in his fancy, pushed the fabric off one shoulder. The other hand undid buttons...one after another...after another. He was undressing her and she let him, ignoring all of the reasons to try and stop him, not that she could if he really wanted too. She didn't think he would force her...would he? Her heart began to thump in her cheeks, in her eyes, on every piece of skin he touched.

Charon barely heard her try and speak his name, it felt like his head was filled with twine and all noise came like white noise. His mouth went dry as his eyes drank in the sight of his hands unveiling her skin. The want to fight it was beginning to die and slowly, like ink turning water his brain joined his hands. The transition of giving up was smooth and...natural, but he still managed to speak one last warning, despite the urge to rip the dress from her.

"You should stop me...", he spoke like it was the last thing he may ever say. She heard him gulp, it sounded painful and harsh. A part of her felt fear as he shakily undid the bounds on her wrists, anticipation leaked from him to her and she couldn't help feeling a mild euphoria. She held in a whimper, squeezing her eyes shut as the belt fell between them. Her arms felt raw against the 'fresh' air. Another wave of mild panic peaked and subsided. She opened her eyes and mouth ready say stop...but it didn't come out...

...besides, her dress was already falling off her, pooling to form a halo around her feet. The air was cold, really cold and goose bumps littered her skin within seconds. She was stark naked before a ghoul. It was probably...everything her father never wanted for her, but for some reason that thought didn't bother her.

For a moment he did nothing, she dared to look up, feeling the trail of his eyes over her skin. The urge to itch her stitches found her and she twitched ignoring it. Every inch of her felt tingly, anticipating the touch of a man anytime now...anytime...

Soon enough the burning heat of his hands ran down the length of her arms, making her sigh. It was welcomed against the cold, and her body greedily absorbed his warmth.

"He's going to kill me...", he murmured while, in a bout of confidence, running a clothed palm against one breast. She sucked in a breath and flinched, the feeling was shocking and almost painfully sensitive, but when the contact was gone she was left wanting more. He stopped, but did not withdraw from her. His hands laid over the tops of her ribs in an odd manner.

The air was silent. She knew he was talking about Ahzrukhal.

"..why?", she breathed the word against a small touch down her ribs by his finger tips. He wasn't doing more then touching her, and a part of her was withering at the sluggishness of his actions. She felt ashamed for wanting to lean into him, to maybe feel him on other parts of her.

He sounded like he was smirking as he spoke, "I'm not suppose to touch his object of...'desire'." He made the word sound crass, something she had never experienced, and as if to go against his point he ignored the wetness of her back and pulled her to him with a hand on her spine. His breath heated her shoulder and neck. He got closer then she had thought he would.

As he moved her closer she had a mild 'awakening', the leather of his chest was hard on her bare front, and she began to react how he wanted her to before. The idea of it 'being too late to turn back' never crossed her mind. She struggled, yanking herself back as his grip on her tightened.

He didn't want to let her go now and he proved it by growling in her ear. She stilled a moment, and he began to touch her, rubbing now down her lower back feeling the puffy tense muscles. The more she struggled the tighter he held her and eventually her belly began to ache as the pressure against him increased. He held her in an iron grip as he fondled her, her meat in his large hands. He kneaded the flesh of her backside and made an animalistic exhale into her neck.

His actions had become something much less than innocent, and she panicked. Soon his mouth was on her skin and she shivered in fear. The memory of her recent near-rape fueled her desire to escape him. He was being aggressive and ignorant of her stuggle, perhaps..she thought, she should have said stop when he told her too...

Again she fought him and this time she received a bite.

"Ahh..", it was more shocking then painful and sent an electric jolt through some imaginary root in her body.

He bit her neck again, less abusive this time as she began to feel him pull her off balance. He was trying to get her on the floor, on her back...so he could...

She gasped trying to get her now unbound arms free from his body.

"Oh god! Stop!... Charon!" She managed to pull one arm free of his grip and with it she pounded her fist on him, weakly, in the side of his head. It didn't faze him as he attempted to lean her back with his hands still shifting to other parts of her to squeeze. He was in a world of his own, one where her kicks and struggles did nothing but push him farther. In his brain she wanted him to continue and he happily obliged, only to satisfy her. Somewhere in what little sanity he had left he knew this was an inevitable reaction to his celibacy. He had been ignoring his natural impulses and they were bound to bite him in the ass sooner or later. She was just the unlucky one to be there when it happened.

She shifted her legs trying to keep herself up against his advances and the movement made him groan, she'd rubbed him the 'right' way. He barely heard her strained pleading as he finally bent her knee the wrong way and she wobbled backwards, only his arms helped her land in a position that didn't damage her.

"Noo!", she followed with a yelp and a pained moaned as they both tumbled to the floor with a 'thud'. She was trapped underneath his weight with two thick arms on either side of her. The assault she expected didn't come and she faced him but avoided his eyes, the ceiling was more interesting at this point. The floor below her was cold and sharp, something was jabbing into her lower back that felt a lot like glass. For a moment she feared her heart thumping out of her chest more then him as he stiffened above her.

"Fuck...fuck...", he murmured it over and over as he looked her over. She saw his eyes, shifting uncontrollably over her in a horrified manner. She didn't know he could have ever looked so frightened.

"...fuck...fuck...FUCK!"

He pulled off of her like she was burning and in turn burning him, in his hurriedness he'd fallen back on his ass. His eyes stared at her nude form, maybe he saw spiders on her she thought, that would explain the repulsive look.

She'd rolled on her side, bending her knees and protectively pulling her legs to herself. She didn't bothering covering herself, the shock of the past few minutes was still very..very fresh and the mixed feelings she felt just kept coming. A part of her hated herself for freaking out on him, another relieved he'd finally managed to control himself.

Quicker then he did, she recovered. For a moment she envisioned escaping him. If she wanted to avoid a repeat situation, but with Ahzrukhal, then she needed to run. To take advantage of his post-traumatic stress syndrome and run as fast as she could. This would be her opportunity...she glanced at him and the untarnished dress on the bench besides him.

He didn't see the correlation between her glances and escape. The fact that he'd almost raped her kept flooding his senses. It was sick and pleasurable at the same time, which made him feel sicker.

He didn't even move when she grabbed at the dress, fumbling twice. He didn't even look at her when she stood on shaky legs, nor did he protest when she ran off, naked and already out of breath. She was running away...escaping and all he could do was sit, replaying the events over and over in his head...wondering when he'd begun allowing his body to override his mind.

"I'm dead..."


A little trail of blood ran its way down the curve of her abdomen and disappeared between her legs as she began to slow her sprinting into a slow jog. She'd found herself at the end of a train tunnel, the light of a utility door in sight. Her feet ached, having to avoid broken glass and metal poking out of the ground.

She quickly came to a stop, leaning, naked, against the cold wall. A sign was near her head reading 'employees only'; what she should have found as slightly funny, didn't even register. She was in a twilight state as she desperately tried to catch her breath.

Yes, she admitted that she liked the ghoul. If the scenario were different she may have let him take her on that wet floor. However, she didn't want to be anywhere near Ahzrukhal...escaping was the right choice...well maybe she'd see the slime bag when she had some nice fire power to blow his head off with; that idea managed to form a small smile on her lips.

She rolled to rest her back on the wall, checking down the hall to make sure Charon had not followed her. No sign of anything..including the ghoul.

Even though she managed to catch her breath, it didn't stop the racing of her heart. She was still naked, unarmed, and now...hurt again. Her fingers ran against the thin blood trail where one of her stitches had popped, smearing it across her belly. She peered down at the wound, to her surprised it looked near healed completely, if she had gently taken the stitch out, the skin would have been fused together.. wouldn't have broken...

A pang of hatred settled in her chest thinking of how rough Charon really had been. Even if she had given into him it would have been frightening, he'd become almost...ferocious...

She took in breaths, counting to four as she inhaled and exhaled. The method worked well enough as she began to think clearly again. She gave the distance and tops of the metro platforms a good once over, seeing no sign of life she ducked into the doorway and disappeared behind the wall. In the corner she dressed quickly, dislodging a few stitches before zipping the back of the faded green dress up. She wondered if all pre-war ladies wore such pretty clothes...or if she was just 'lucky' with fashion lately.

She blushed while adjusting the dress around her hips, itching the remaining stitches with the fabric as she did so, thinking how Charon undressed her. When she thought of his method, their was little difference between the way he did so and the way the raider did. Yet her reactions were almost completly different: both instances she was a prisoner...yet Charon hadn't captured her with the intention to rape her...

A headache began to form in her temple and she knew it was fruitless to think about it. She liked Charon but he wasn't worth the possibility of her becoming some sex slave to Ahzrukhal...and that was that.

She set her mouth and searched through cabinets and desks quickly, keeping an ear out for the ghoul. She found very little, two cherry bombs and a tire iron. In her hurriedness she missed a first-aid kit on the wall.

Up one flight of stairs and down a mild slope she found herself in a dead end room. No switches, nor hidden latches lead her to believe there was some other way out.

She fumed, but... there must have been some other way. She remembered coming this way a few months back, it was after all the only way to get into D.C. from Megaton. She never remembered getting lost last time...at least not dead end lost.

Slowly she turned around, as if she already knew he was behind her. Sure enough he was in the hallway outside the archway to the room she stood in. She refused to look at his face, paying special attention to the dead radroach in the far left corner.

The room felt smaller and smaller as he got closer and closer. It felt like the air was too heavy for her lungs by the time his shadow engulfed hers. He was looking down at her and she already knew she was as close to the wall as she could be, trying to literally become..the wall.

"I'm sorry.."

The words were faint, but by the time she'd figured out what he said he was already wrapping the belt around her wrists.

When had he put her wrists together...she blinked, her face dropping as she realized he'd just captured her again. Where did her fight go? when had she decided to forget how to throw a punch..? The tire iron clattered to her feet. She shifted, avoiding it landing on her toes. By the time she'd begun fighting back it was fruitless, her movement was limited and he had her in his hands...

"..please...", now she was going to beg even if the mere thought of it was painful.

"Please...just let me go...", each word she spoke she felt more cheap. The fight just drained out of her, and she had been so close to running with her tail between her legs and she was fine with that. Now she stooped to a new low, "...don't take me to him...please...pleass.."

Her eyes watered, naturally she would have hidden them, embarrassed...but now she was going to stare up at him, hoping it would break the obligations he had to Ahzrukhal. She knew it was hopeless but it was worth a shot...no...it wasn't but she did it anyways.

He looked like it was effecting him, but the look also told her he couldn't let her go. The more she stared at him, with her glossy eyes, the more she began to feel guilty for trying to guilt him...the world worked in strange ways. She felt bad for him, maybe this was stockholm syndrome...?

"...", Charon could have said 'sorry' again but he decided it was stupid, the words were meaningless, both to him and her. He had originally been apologizing for what he'd done to her earlier...but he was too ashamed to mention it now. Instead he tugged at her arm, gesturing for her to move. She did, and the way she did it made his heart sink. The look of defeat was something she didn't even wear when she'd seen her ruined belly. It bothered him...

With an ache in his groin and in his chest he walked with her out the room, up the slope, and down the stairs back in the openness of the Metro platforms. He needed to find a way to releive the tension she had left him with..or he had left himself with...it was beginning to effect his ability to walk.

He frowned glancing at her. She had her lower lip in her mouth, chewing on it. For a moment her eyes darted to his, shifting back to whatever she had previously been staring at as she caught his eyes on her. He'd continued to stare at her as she snuck glances, with eyes now dry and...surprisingly...less upset. He found himself hoping she'd take this time to think of a plan to slaughter Ahzrukhal...he knew he would have been.


So, did I butcher it or was it a success?