It took nearly 2 days to retrieve the G.E.C.K.

Almost 48 hours in the radiated, suffocating, and decrepit Vault 87. Not to mention the nearly endless supply of blood hungry mutants. It took a lot of back and forth, and small arguments between the two to locate the G.E.C.K. which in the end Charon refused to get. Instead he looked to their newest companion. A friendly super mutant named Fawks.

They, or more she, had freed him from his cell. God knows how long he had been there. Before unlocking his door even she was nervous of how the green beast would behave, but with his appreciation he managed to get the device for her. Even with the radiation suit she found in a cabinet, the levels in the room were off the charts. She still felt mildly nausea from giving it a try earlier, that and the constant 1+ rads/sec wasn't helping either. With a glance to Charon, she realized, he seemed more then find. Of course, she thought darkly. He was probably more then capable of doing all the things she needed, but he was still grumpy.

The thought of her ghoul grumpy made her laugh under her breath. It went unnoticed by both parties it seemed.

Soon Fawks had left, on his own way out she guessed. Again it was just the two of them, the tension was felt as soon as the last bit of green mutant had vanished. She made an audible gulp. Charon had been debating over saying the first word for the past 30 minutes. He knew he was acting strange. The only thing he thought to do was stay at an arms distance, mentally and physically. He was beginning to get to close to her for his own liking. The last thing he needed was to endanger the completion of her mission. At least, thats what he told himself.

While thinking on this certain conundrum he barely realized she was speaking until her last word penetrated the fog.

".......ry, okay..?" she was staring up ay him expectantly, her eyes lifted in a sorrowful look. Yet all he could do was become mesmerized by her. She was too innocent and untouched by so much around her. Her high cheek bones and soft lips..There! He was doing it again, he gave himself a metal kick and stood up straighter. He couldn't respond, only turn to stare down the hallway Fawks had left through.

"Would you repeat that?" he grumbled keeping a straight composure. He didn't even glance at her as she made a frustrated sound.

"Don't berate me Charon! You can either except my apology or not. That simple." with that he turned to her.

"For what?" he'd wished he didn't sound so gruff all the time, especially at this moment.

She looked confused for a moment and then turned from him, more then likely staring down that same hallway. It was popular with the two of them. "..for..whatever your..feeling..right now." when his face only became more stone cold she began to grow agitated, but it quickly faded..

"Do..do you..love me?"

No, is all Charon wanted to say, no. He was mindless, he was a ghoul, he was not going to love her. That the very thought of it made him laugh. Instead he took in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them all too slowly. He wasn't going to avoid the truth this time.

"I may,.." his voice sounded almost exasperated, "..though I don't know exactly how to tell..."

With each word her smile grew, the hotness expanded in her chest and her whole body began to tingle. It wasn't a confession, but as close as she could have hoped for. She stared at him for that moment, raking her eyes over his and his mutilated features. He looked strained, subconsciously, but she had an idea of what to do. Will a sway of her shoulder she casually locked her fingers with his own, gripping his large hand with her small one. They were definitely contrasting, she determined she liked it. Too much.

"I'll help you figure it out.." she gave him a smile and slanted eyes that promised him more then he could have hoped for. For a moment he felt very vulnerable, with his fingers entwined with hers. She began to tug him with her, pulling them both down the hallway. "..first we gotta get the hell out of here though." he relaxed and smirked as she lightened the mood. He seemed to enjoy the sound of her cursing for some reason.

As they turned the corner, past where Fawks had left their sight earlier, a white flash erupted. The metal of the Vault shook and with a quick hard jolt the Vault girl and her ghoul were tossed to the floor a good 10 feet from one another.

The first thing that came to 101's mind was, Where was Charon? She winced, feeling a little trickle flow from her waist, soaking her bandages and shirt. Everything was a haze, wether from dust or a reaction from the boom in her mind.

Where was Charon? she began to turn her head slowly but only found the boots of someone that definitely was not her ghoul. As she lifted her head the sight of others flooded her vision. Who? she tried to make words, maybe she did, but she didn't hear them. Oh god, she cried, what was happening? There in front of her stood Agustus Autumn. It was the Enclave. Her eyes widened in her fear as the group of armed soldiers stood behind the towering colonel.

"Is she harmed?" his voice grated her ears.

"No sir, should I put her out?" the air puffs and gadgets seemed to mingle with the soldiers voice as he spoke, it make him sound like a mindless robot.

"Please." the sick sweet tone made her queazy, her anger boiled so much that she didn't feel what they had injected into her until the room began to fade into black. Once again for the second time that mission, she began to pass out. Only the vauge sounds of the Enclave 'chit-chat' was registed and even that slowly went black as well. She was going unconscious, that much was certain, but what of Charon? it was the last thought she had before oblivion.

Where was Charon...

Two weeks later....

Charon sat in the Ninth Circle, vision cloudy and eyes drooping with the excess of alcohol in his system. Drinking was all he could remember at the moment, which he liked. After 101 was kidnapped he thought for sure he was going to go feral. He couldn't think, tried in vain to search her out. Tracked the Enclaves trail, to no avail, so he found himself at the only place he thought to go.

Underworld.

Back where he could still smell the stench of Azrukhal's blood. His eyes landed on the spot his former employer had fallen. The memory made the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, probably in the closest thing to a smile that Charon had given since the incident. Motherfucker was still dead.

Every now and then he would fade out and get lost in his thoughts. Remembering the feel and smell of his smoothskin, her voice. Slowly the ghoul opened his eyes. Instead of seeing 101 like he had hoped he saw another ghoul, nearly as drunk as he. He snarled like an animal and brought his fist up, slamming it back down on the grimy table with a loud shake. Bottles clanged together and some fell on the floor, shattering. He inhaled deeply letting out a shaky breath. The other ghouls in the bar remained indifferent, it wasn't like this was the first time he had made a scene since he arrived. The bottles breaking was better then him smashing another ghoul's nose in, like he did his first day back in the bar.

Many of the residents stayed clear, avoiding him at all costs. Charon was a bomb waiting to go off it seemed. He removed his fist from the table and hunched over staring into his whiskey. The bottle was besides him and he grasped it tightly bringing the opening to his mouth. He chugged the rest of the alcohol, a stiff sound leaving him as he tossed it on the floor. It too shattered.

The idea of drinking himself to death was appealing, too much so, Charon thought. It would be an easy way out compared to others he would have, or could have suffered from. Again he thought of her. When he first started to miss her he thought mainly of her physically, however now he was even relishing the memory of her sleeping. Just sleeping. All those times he sat watch, he would sneak glances at her. Letting his eyes feel her like his hands wished they could.

With a movement that looked to difficult to have accomplished, he pulled himself from his seat. Standing, or what could have been called standing.

Somehow he found himself in front of a bed, a room that was empty. The memory of how he had got there was already slipping away and the bed looked too comfortable. He literally collapsed on top of the mattress, it bounced and creaked under the weight. As soon as the bed ceased its rocking Charon was dead to the world. For now he didn't have to think of her. Not until he woke up, but then he could just drink again. Just drink.

Unfortunately for Charon, sleep didn't bring him the vacancy he wished. He dreamed of her. He dreamt of the first time, that first time she came to him.

"Please.. don't tell me to go away.." she begged him as her lips continued to touch his face. When she first crawl up to him he had thought he was hallucinating, that his fantasies were beginning to take its toll on his mental stability. When his eyes opened she was still there, going in for another kiss. She was awkward and clumsy, but it was what made his body burn, the want he had buried deep down before was now resurfacing. Her inexperienced and desperate touches were all over him it seemed. She had slid into his lap as had begun to plea. "..just touch me...please.." he could still hear the tears in her voice. The dampness of her cheeks and neck as he began to touch her back. It was dangerous territory he was dabbling in. The reasonable side of him told him this was a bad, bad idea. It was an order though, a command, wasn't it?

He wasn't going to give in to her, at first, but her final words, begging him to touch her, how could he have said no? With the last shred of resistance broken he allowed his hands to roam up her backside, letting himself finally feel her. Even through her shirt he could feel the soft muscles, under he figured, equally soft skin.

As he reacted so did she.

She began unbuckling his pants, primal instinct taking over. For a moment he wondered if anyone was around to have seen them like this, a smoothskin ravishing a ghoul. The thought would have made him laugh but soon he felt the cold air against his now stiff cock. That shut him down for a moment. It wasn't cold for long though, he was looking at her face as she gripped him. The look she had along with the soft texture and warmth of her hand made him shiver.

It took all his strength to not cry out as she began to stroke him. God it had been too long, too long since someone had touched him like this, let alone with something as soft as her fingers. She arched against him, reaching in between the both of them as her hand griped and pulled, back and forth. A ragged breath left him and he couldn't help the thrust of his hips, craving more contact from her. The pleasure was so intense, like he had never felt it before now. He felt himself growing close to the edge, before the climax hit him he pulled her hand from him. With her hand in his own he pinned it down to the floor as he lowered her on her back. His other free hand pushed her pink dress up over her hips, exposing her completely to him. She wore no little shorts of underwear under the dress, but to his pleasant surprise.

The sight of her spread out before him was almost more then he could handle, she glistened with wetness. A low feral sound found its way out of his mouth. With a quick motion he had pulled one thigh up against his hip, pushing the tip of himself against her center. She was so hot. If he could have sweat he would have been then. The anticipation felt like a vice around his throat. This was the last chance he had to stop. He felt as though this next move would change everything, and it would. The chance of losing this new employer was hanging in the air. He stared at her face. Her pink cheeked, bashful face.

Oh god, he sank inside of her slowly. Luckily her long loud moan stifled his own. Her eyes watered but remained open and on him. He couldn't look back at her. He just ducked his head, eyes shut, submerging himself deep inside of her. After all the shit he'd been through his whole existence, now he was being rewarded. It felt so good to be inside her, so much so he didn't want to move. Ever.

He felt like a human at this moment, a man, and with that he began to fuck her like a man. He didn't wait for her body to adjust to him, just began to thrust in and out of her. Keeping one wrist pinned with one hand and letting the other slide from her thigh up under her knee. He lifted her leg up driving into her deep and faster. He wasn't brutal, he knew better then to traumatize her. Still though, despite holding much of his passion back, he managed to shake her to her core.

She produced a chorus of moans and groans, he lifted his head to watch her as she quivered under him. Her eyes were shut and her mouth open in a strange smile, she was gorgeous. He hated to think of it, as he pulled in and out of her, but it was true. She was too clean even when she was dirty, too happy even when she was sad. He growl and picked up pace, feeling himself dangerously close to the brink. As if her body read his own she began to stretch out under him, climaxing. The sight of her lips trembling, her eyes fluttering, skin glistening, it was no wonder he couldn't hold himself back. The edge came to quickly, soon he was falling off and into one of the most intense climaxes he could have ever imagined. He couldn't help closing his eyes as the intense pleasure increased until he felt himself cumming inside her.

"Wake up.." he opened his eyes, his smoothskin stared at him, she looked tousled. What? he began to feel cold. Blackness flooded his vision as her face too disappeared in the darkness.

"Wake up!"

"Fuckin' drunk. Wake up!"

Charon's eyes opened. In front of him stood a enraged ghoul. Winthrope, Charon didn't have to see him to know it was him, he could smell him. The only ghoul who smelt to the rest of them. He rolled over on the 'owned' bed. The dream, he frowned, why did it have to feel so real? He brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed delicately. A few drinks would cure the hangover he had.

"...god..not in my bed." at first Charon was confused but slowly he realized, with a look down his body for confirmation, there was the evidence of his dream. It nearly hurt, the tightness in his leathers. Maybe one would feel ashamed in this predicament but Charon just lay there. It's not like he could feel any worse then he did when he realized she wasn't there with him when he woke. Perhaps Winthrope realized this too, because all he did was sigh and offer him a very lame condolence, "Sorry about the smoothskin..."

Yea, sorry. So was he.