WARNING for Charon having a mental breakdown for, like, the entire first half of the chapter. :(

x

10.

Charon never hears the shot. He doesn't even know what's happened until he catches blood seeping down Max's collar, and he can hardly get any sound out at all before Max slumps forward, off the cliff.

Charon lets out a cry and lunges to grab for him, missing, and instead grabs onto the edge, overwhelmed with the most heart-stopping terror he's ever felt for an employer as he stares down where Max has landed. He breathes again, relieved, when he finds it is only a few feet down, but God, it's still too far, and Max isn't moving—

He slides down to grab Max just as a bullet pings off the rock behind him, the second shot he never heard fire. Under his boot he feels something crunch, and he swears as he shoves Max's now-mangled pair of eyeglasses into his pocket. He then cups one hand firmly over the graze in Max's neck—it's deep, it's bleeding too much, shit—and holds him tight against his chest as he sprints to a shack several feet down the pathway to take shelter behind. He lays Max down, and Max whimpers and chokes, blood trickling out of his mouth as Charon quickly grabs for a stimpak and injects it into the gash. There's too much blood...but he has to recover, he has to.

Max cries out, gasping for air, and then his eyes slide shut and he shudders again before going still, and Charon is so scared that his hands tremble as he feels for Max's pulse.

A beat. Too slow, but there. He's alive. Charon puts a hand out to the shack for support—the headache reminds him how he has failed—and then he jumps to his feet as the door opens, and a man with a baseball bat meanders round the side.

"What do we have—"

Charon aims and fires before the raider can finish, watching him drop, and then checks the shack for any more danger before carrying Max inside and placing him on the bed in the corner. He then shoves both a heavy cabinet and a table in front of the door, backing away. It's relatively safe, sturdy. It just needs to last long enough for Max to wake up, and then…

He groans, staggering, and drops to his knees beside the bed, trying to focus through the slowly worsening pain. He checks Max's pulse again, relieved to find it steadier, and his wound has already stitched together into a jagged scar. He's alive. He's alive.

He leans over, clutching at his head, and then curls into himself, retching as tears drip down onto the floor.

He's alive. He's alive. Make it stop. Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

He knows it won't make a difference. As many times as he's failed, he knows. Sometimes it's more bearable. Smaller wounds result in less agony. But an employer near death...that results in an awful pain that draws out far longer than it should, almost more than he can handle, and still nothing compared to what he feels if an employer dies. And as if the damn headaches weren't enough...

When he fails...

His contract prohibits violence unless he, himself, breaks the rules. He is not allowed to injure his employer, to let anyone or anything else hurt them. And if he does, if he fails, the contract states he can be punished in any way seen fit by that employer. All limits, except the one that prevents him from being killed, are negated until he is as regretful as they please, and he is entirely forbidden from fighting back.

Unsurprisingly, employers usually saw it fit to beat him until he just wasn't able to keep the pain silent and to himself anymore, to break his bones or make him injure himself until sobs shook his body to remind him he has no will of his own. Being completely at an employer's mercy, especially when they just don't have any...it's the most awful, most frightening thing Charon can think of. Any other time he can protect and defend himself, he can void the contract for most abuse, but when he fails...he is helpless.

Max thought Ahzrukhal had never hurt him. But when he'd accidentally nicked a gash into Ahzrukhal's arm with his knife while trying to push past him to get to the real threat, just barely a year into his employment, Ahzrukhal had happily beaten the hell out of him. And years later, when a drunk had managed to bloody Ahzrukhal's nose before Charon could stop it, Ahzrukhal had beaten him again, just as thoroughly if not more so, and then broken two of his fingers, all with a grin on his face, enjoying it just as much as the rest of his employers did. And the next time—God, there shouldn't have even been a first time! But as hard as he fucking tries, there's always something that goes wrong, something that ends in his punishment and his pain and his misery.

And now, here he is again, a failure, and he will suffer for it. He will be punished, just like always. Though some punishments had been worse than others...though somehow one had been worse than them all, but no, no, he can't think about that.

Everything he's been put through is his own goddamn fault, anyway. The only excuse for failure is death, and even that isn't a good one. That is what he had been taught, what had been etched into his brain. And with all the things he's done to others? He deserves worse. He deserves so much worse.

He's on the verge of blacking out when the pain finally starts to fade, and he collapses, panting, pressing his forehead to the floor. He wraps his arms around himself, shivering, and catches his breath before attempting to move again, rolling onto his back and blinking hard to clear his vision. He needs to...oh, his head...he can't remember…

Max. He needs to protect Max until he wakes up. That's right. Then they can figure out what to do.

If Max wakes up…and after whatever he will do to Charon then.

Charon lets out a low moan, mostly because no one can hear it, and squeezes his eyes shut. What will Max do to him? Just because Max is weak and probably could not harm Charon with his fists, doesn't mean he won't find something else, that he won't make Charon slice skin off or anything else he's been subjected to over the past two centuries.

Surely this has to be where the kindness ends. It has to be. And Charon knows damn well it's entirely his fault.

He manages to drag himself up to his knees, pulling Max's blanket out of his bag and laying it over the boy. He then sits facing the door, pulls his gun into his lap, settles his bleary gaze on the door, and waits.

x

It takes the better part of an hour for Max to stir, and Charon jumps as he feels the boy tug at his collar, immediately turning around and laying his gun on the floor. Max blinks up at him, squinting, and Charon bows his head, getting onto his knees and placing his hands flat on the ground in front of him.

"Words cannot express how sorry I am."

Max groans softly, reaching up to rub at his eyes, and then rasps, "Huh? Wha's goin' on?" He feels around beside his head, frowning, and adds, "M-my glasses?"

"You were shot," Charon says, slowly. "It was only a graze, but…it nearly killed you. There seems to be no damage besides a scar, now, after a stimpak was administered." Charon moves only enough to reach where he set Max's glasses on the floor after his attempt to fix the frames, holding them out cautiously, like they're an offering. "Your eyeglasses were damaged...I did not see them...I broke them. I am sorry. I did my best to repair them."

Max lets out a strangled noise and grabs them, slowly sitting up with a grimace and then leaning against the wall. "No...no, no…" he mumbles, sticking a finger through where the bottom half of the left lens used to be. Both sides are cracked, the frames bent and crudely taped together in the middle, and Max whimpers as he puts them on. They are beyond ill-fitting, and when he looks around, he can only really see through one eye. "I can't see right...I'm fuckin' blind without them! Shit!"

Charon flinches, and it's only then that Max realizes the ghoul hasn't moved or raised his head at all.

"Charon? What's wrong?"

So very quietly, Charon says, "I have failed you."

"...What? I—holy shit, why are you shaking? Charon—"

"I—I have—I-I have allowed you to be injured," he says, and it's the first time Max has heard him stammer like that, like he's just barely managing to choke the words out. He draws a quivering breath, and it shoots a chill up Max's spine.

"It...failure...is in—in direct violation of the contract. Retaliation is allowed. It—it is required. So long as my life is not threatened, all...limitations...are...put on hold until I am made to—to regret my unforgivable mistake."

Max understands, now, and he's horrified. "Charon, what the fuck? No! No, you didn't let anything happen! You told me to get back!"

Charon doesn't look up; he might even lower his head further. "I must be punished. I must."

"No, look at me," Max says, and when Charon hesitantly does so, wincing as if in preparation for a blow, Max is almost rendered speechless because he has never seen someone look so scared. It makes his heart ache.

"Charon," he breathes, "fuck, listen to me, I'm not doing anything to you. Do you hear me? I'm not going to hurt you."

Clearly, Charon misunderstands. He sits back on his heels and unsheathes his knife, holding it to his upper arm and watching Max for orders, and Max cries out, grabbing for Charon's wrist. Charon flinches again, turning his head, and then hears Max shout, "What the fuck are you doing? No! Let go of it! Now!"

Charon freezes, letting the knife drop from his grasp, and stares at Max as the boy starts to cry, cupping Charon's hand between both of his own and leaning his forehead against them. "Jesus, Charon, no...don't do that. Don't ever do that."

Not trusting himself to speak, Charon simply nods, stunned. Max is holding his hand so tenderly...and crying again, but...why?

"I must be punished," he finally manages. "I failed you. You must punish me."

Max shakes his head, then sharply pinches Charon's hand. "There. Now please stop. I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want you to fucking hurt yourself, you idiot!"

"Why?" Charon asks, staring at him. "Why must you do this to me?"

Max chokes out a laugh. "You mean, not hurt you? Gee, I wonder." He raises his head to meet Charon's gaze, too close, and Charon leans as far back as he can without pulling his hand away. He doesn't want to. For once, his failure has resulted in a touch that doesn't hurt, and he thinks it might be the only thing holding him together.

"I'm not them," Max says. "I'm not. I will never be them. Whatever they did to you...fuck, Charon, I can't even imagine...I will never hurt you."

Charon shakes his head, tilting it back and staring at the ceiling. He can't handle this anymore. He just can't. "You will. You will."

"No, I fucking won't! You saved my life again, and you think I'm gonna hurt you for it?"

"I am the one who allowed you to be injured!"

"Stop. Just stop. You didn't. There's no fucking way you could have done anything!"

Charon curls his free hand into a fist and slams it against the floor in frustration, and Max reaches for that hand, too. Charon, so stupidly, gives it to him, and Max holds it just as tightly, pulling both of them together with his own.

Charon's breath hitches; Max's hands are so warm, and Charon is always so goddamn unbearably cold. But he's used to it; it doesn't bother him until suddenly it does, until now, until some part of him is warm, until he's being touched in a way he never has before. He's not being manipulated, not being pulled closer and into things he doesn't want; Max is trying to comfort him. Charon could easily move away, and he knows he should, but he doesn't want that. He doesn't. His guard is down, and against every instinct he has he stays there, allows something that could so quickly turn dangerous to continue, and closes his eyes.

"Listen to me," he hears Max say, distantly. "You didn't shoot me. You saved me. Everything is fine. Just breathe, okay? Please?"

Charon realizes he's been holding his breath, and he inhales slowly, shakily, blinking wearily up at the boy who somehow has more power over him now than he did before. Charon's on his knees, utterly subdued by something as simple as touch, and there's something wrong with him because he can't pull away, he can't.

Max doesn't seem to care, and doesn't take advantage of his weakness like everyone else has. He just sits there, and smiles, and squeezes Charon's hands, and for just a moment, nothing else matters.

"Everything's fine, Charon. I'm okay, see? I'm okay, and I'm not going to hurt you."

Charon lowers his head again and just breathes, and, slowly, his trembling fades. Max rubs his thumb over the back of Charon's hand, and all at once it's too much, and Charon has to move, has to pull back and stand up, wrapping his arms around himself and turning around. Immediately he wishes he hadn't, but it's too damn late now.

"You okay?" Max asks, and Charon reaches for his gun.

"We need to move. We are in danger. It is a miracle we have remained undisturbed this long."

"Charon…"

"We need to move," Charon hisses, and Max nods, standing. Pain shoots through his neck as he moves it, making him dizzy, and he puts a hand out to the wall, feeling at the scar with the other. He bites his lip, then quickly stops touching it. It's just another to add to the collection, he supposes. It doesn't matter.

He raises his head to find Charon watching him, thankfully more concerned than nervous this time, and Max offers him another smile. "It's just sore. I'm good. It'll be fine." He shoves his blanket back in his bag, starts to haul it over his shoulders, and then stumbles again.

Charon grabs one strap, gently tugging. "I shall carry it. It will only make balance more difficult."

"But—"

"Until you recover fully," Charon says, and pulls it out of Max's hands before he can protest again. Max huffs, grabbing for his gun, and carefully adjusts his glasses.

"It's hard to see…"

"I will protect you," Charon says. "Stay behind me. Stay low. The bridge must lead out. If I tell you to run, you must run."

"That's not much of a plan."

Charon sighs heavily. "It is all that I have."

"So...we're fucked."

"No." Not again. Not again. He won't let anything happen again.

"There's like thirty fuckin' raiders out there that are definitely gonna see us."

"Most will not be able to aim at us from such an angle."

Max nods, rubbing his eyes, and checks his weapon's magazine before nodding again. "Okay."

"Do not shoot until you must," Charon says, and shoves the barricades he'd created out of the way of the door.

It isn't a horrible plan. They aren't seen until about halfway down the bridge, when Charon has to break off from Max and go down a separate path to take out a guard. He's two feet from them, knife out and readied, when suddenly there's a shout from below.

It's not even a raider. It's one of the fucking slaves, and Max is horrified as he watches them grab onto the fence and shout up at him for help. He backs away, gun out, and watches Charon toss the raider over the side of the bridge and then start to fire down at the ones gathering below, looking back at Max to yell, "Run!"

Max obeys, sprinting, taking cover as he fires haphazardly at another two raiders further down on other ledges and then, eventually, he finds himself at the opening of the valley, pressed against the rocks.

He catches his breath, looking around in anticipation of Charon joining him, only Charon doesn't. Biting his lip, Max waits a minute longer, and then feels dread welling up inside of him. Oh, God. Cocky bastard, with that 'I am more than capable' bullshit!

He runs back, looking up at the bridge, and then hears more gunfire from ahead of him, and several raiders shouting for the zombie to show himself.

"Fuck," Max mutters. At least he's alive.

"He's on top of the train car! Get up there! Get him!"

Max jumps into action, rounding the car he's beside and climbing the ladder up to the top just in time to shoot down a raider who tried the same on the car in front of him, scowling. He notices Charon just a few cars down, pressed down against the top, and he takes a deep breath before running and jumping to the next car.

His landing is awkward, painful, but he forces himself back to his feet and jumps to the next one, until he's only two away from Charon's, settling himself there to shoot the raiders anywhere he can see.

Charon sits up, staring at him in what Max can guess is probably irritation, and then raises his gun and shoots another. There's two more climbing onto cars on a different set of tracks, at least ten still surrounding them, too many, there's too fucking many—

Charon whips around and fires in the complete opposite direction, and there's an explosion that rocks the ground, nearly causing Max to lose his balance.

The electricity around the behemoth's cage crackles, then shorts out.

"Oh, shit—"

The behemoth roars, slamming its way out of the cage, and swipes its arm, knocking three raiders out of its way and into the building behind them. Charon scrambles up as they are suddenly the least of the raiders' worries, flinging himself to Max's car and grabbing the boy's arm. "Move!"

Stunned, Max follows him down and then digs his feet into the ground. "Wait! Charon!"

"What?" Charon hisses, clutching at one leg with his free hand as he whips around to face Max. "No! We cannot stop!"

"It's gonna kill them, too!" Max points over to the slaves now cowering in their cage, and Charon stares at him in the utmost horror.

"I did not release it so we could kill it! We cannot! I do not have the ammo! We—"

"I'm not fuckin' leaving them to die!" Max says, yanking his arm out of Charon's grip and darting off towards the cage.

Charon growls, taking one glance at the behemoth before following as quickly as he can with whatever damage the fall from the bridge has done to his leg. Damn bastards had somehow thrown a grenade right up to him, and getting offhad been the only option.

Max is fumbling with his screwdriver and a bobby pin as Charon approaches, and, breathlessly, Charon says, "I must protect my employer. If it comes to it, I will carry you out of here!"

"Just give me a second—"

"We do not have a second!"

"Just hold on!"

"But—"

"Shut up!" Max shouts, and Charon's sentence cuts off, mouth still open but unable to make a sound. He watches, wide-eyed, as Max unlocks the gate, turning to look at the behemoth as it roars and starts roaming around, and there's only scattered gunfire now, most of the raiders surely dead.

"Go! Run!" Max hisses as he opens the gate, and the slaves stare at him, terrified and unmoving as there's another roar.

"What are you doing? Go! Please!"

Charon's hands close around Max's arms as the behemoth starts in their direction, and, despite Max's cursing, Charon tosses the boy over his shoulder and runs.

"Stop! Charon! I said stop! You fuckin' coward! Fuck you! Let go!"

They are orders, but Charon does not have to follow any that impede his obligation to keep his employer safe. Max starts kicking at him, but Charon holds him steady, not stopping until they are up above the valley again, dropping to his knees, gasping. Max pushes himself away, hitting the dirt and scrambling back up in the same motion, and he reaches out to shove Charon, only further infuriated when Charon doesn't budge.

"You asshole! You left them to die! You fucking shithead!"

Still struggling to catch his breath, and still under the order for silence, Charon doesn't move, head bowed.

"I can't fucking believe you! What if that had been you?" Max lets out another string of curses, kicking the ground and sending sand and dirt up into the air around them. Charon chokes, forcing himself to his feet, and Max shoves him again. This time Charon isn't prepared, and he staggers, gasping as he attempts to put weight on his injured leg and slumping to the ground again, putting his hands up to defend himself if needed.

Max looks like he wants to take a swing at him, but then there's a distant roar from the behemoth, and he simply slumps to his knees and buries his face against his hands, sobbing. Between whimpers, Charon makes out something that sounds like, "He left me."

Charon slowly lowers his arms, panting, and Max strikes more sand around.

"He fuckin' left me to die!" he says, far more audible, and looks up at Charon, tears streaming down his bright red face. "He left me! Everyone tried to kill me! I coulda died! I could die tryin' to find him! And you—I can't believe you did that!"

Charon only casts his eyes to the ground, and Max scowls.

"Fuckin' say something!"

"My first and only objective is keeping you safe," Charon replies. "Not them."

"If they died, it's your fault!"

Charon's mouth twists into a scowl. "And they will not be the last. I will not apologize for doing what I am required to." He manages to stand up, slinging his gun over his shoulder. "It is getting dark. Let us move on."

Max glares up at him, then grabs for his pack. "Gimme my bag."

Charon leans to the side to let it slide off his shoulder, and before he can even turn around, Max has stuck a stimpak into him just above his knee with enough force for it to feel like being shot, and Charon cries out, dropping back to the sand.

"Shit," Max mumbles, at least having the decency to look regretful as he tosses the empty syringe to the ground. "Sorry."

Breathing hard, Charon takes a minute to recover, and Max sits down beside him with a sigh, taking a few long, deep breaths before speaking. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"It is nothing," Charon says, quietly, sitting up, and Max suddenly leans forward and tries to bring Charon into a hug. Charon flinches and immediately jumps to his feet, taking a step back and staring down at him.

"I thought you died. I'm glad you didn't," Max says, sounding exhausted, and Charon has had some goddamn confusing employers, but never to this extent. Three seconds ago the boy was angry enough to stab him, and now...?

"Didn't mean to yell. Just get so angry sometimes," Max says, getting up and shaking his head. "Probably wasn't even your fault. They wouldn't fuckin' move."

"It was unfortunate..." Charon says, carefully placing his hand on Max's shoulder, and Max leans into the touch.

"I just want my dad...my stupid fuckin' dad...I'm going even crazier out here..." Max mumbles, tearfully, and Charon gently squeezes his shoulder.

"We are close. We shall find him."

Max reaches up to put his hand over Charon's as he checks his map, and Charon lets out a soft, content sigh without meaning to. He stiffens, feeling his face grow a bit hot from shame, but Max doesn't give any reaction, and Charon prays he didn't hear. He quickly pulls his hand away, because he's going softand it's disgusting, and Max genuinely seems disappointed, his shoulders slumping as he starts to walk in the direction of the garage.

Charon follows, shaking his head. It's never taken this long to map out an employer's behaviors, for Charon to know just about everything about them and how they work, but Max himself is...something, and Charon honestly isn't entirely sure he'll ever figure it, or the boy, out.

x

"Three-Dog here once again, kiddies, with a special GNR public service announcement that may, ahem, be directed, ahem, to some certain power-armor wearin' buddies. Ghouls are people too, alright? They've just been exposed to an ungodly amount of radiation and didn't get lucky enough to die. Sure they may look dead, but they're as alive as you and me. There is no damn reason to shoot at them, there's no damn reason to kill them, or tell me shit about 101 because he's travelin' with one. They're just tryin' to live out here, same as us. Stop with the bigotry. We have enough hatred goin' around as it is. Can't you...you know...not, maybe? Except...the ferals. You know, the ones that make those terrifying-as-fuck growling sounds and try to kill ya? Yeah. Kill as many of those as you like. But regular ghouls, the not feral ones, just...let 'em be, alright? Hell. This has been Three-Dog, bringin' you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts. Now, some more music..."