Note: Clara would have never been able to do this part anyway. Thank goodness for Charon
Clara fell up the stairs, yelping. Charon didn't miss a beat, turning around and firing his shotgun into the group of soldiers chasing them, and grabbed her up onto her feet a little too roughly. He continued up the stairs, pulling her in front of him, grunting in pain with each hit.
She was limping from a plasma burn across her thigh, shaken from all the near misses they'd given her, and scared half to death. Just flat-out scared. Even though Charon was right―if she didn't finish this she was going to fail―she was still scared of being shot at and having to hurt people. She didn't like hurting people.
But she had to. She just had to, if she didn't finish her father's work, she would never be able to sleep at night―but she didn't want to die in some dark and scary place like this. And Charon was taking a lot of fire―being injured too much―
The soldiers stopped following them after a minute or two, and Clara collapsed onto a tall stairwell, crying and whimpering in pain. Her breath came a little quicker when she noticed how bad the burn on her leg really was, and she tried not to panic.
"We need to keep moving," Charon said, reloading his shotgun.
"I can't breathe," she managed out. "It hurts―"
"It will always hurt," he muttered, sweeping the room with his gun, then looking up at the stairwell. It went on forever, up and up into the ceiling. Clara stared up at it for a minute, then wiped her face and looked down at her leg.
"You're like Gunny," she mumbled, touching the edge of the burn. It was very close to her privates and rubbed against her other leg as she moved. "Pushing because you have to."
"I am bound to you," he said, slowly. "To keep you safe and do as you wish me to do. If you do not wish for me to keep you appraised of the situation and what response should be made, you need only tell me so."
"No, it's okay―" she poked at her leg and winced.
"Good." Charon made a rumbling noise in his throat. "I do not wish to be rude, but you have nowhere near the combat experience that I do. This is the best possible use of my services."
Clara laughed at herself, exasperated. She didn't have that, no. "Not gonna argue," she said, and stood up, wincing. She looked down at her Pip-Boy and fiddled with the knobs. "I think we're supposed to go up?"
Charon looked back the way they'd come, then nodded, and they started their way up the stairs. Felt like it went on forever, winding up and up into the building, until Clara stopped and fell across the railing.
She clutched at the rail and wiped her face on her arm. "We're out of stimpaks," she muttered to herself.
Charon grumbled, put his shotgun across his back, and hauled her up with both hands. "Stay on your feet, Clara."
The pain in her leg got worse and she wobbled, pitching backward onto him. "It hurts," she whined, reaching out for the rail.
"How close are we to the President?" he asked.
She looked at the map, and then rubbed her face. "I think it's one more," she mumbled, unsure.
"Very well." He reached down and grabbed her legs, then picked her up and started walking up the stairs.
Clara's face burned. "I only wanted to sit down for a minute," she said, feeling guilty. It wasn't fair to let him carry her―and what if there were more people trying to kill them, at the top?
"We cannot rest here," was all he said.
"I―" she looked down at his hand wrapped around her thigh and saw his fingertips, the muscles worn down from gripping at his shotgun. How many years had he been forced to fight? How long had he lived in the wastes, like he was? His hands would never heal up properly, and he would always look like he did. Because he was a ghoul.
She looked up at his face, without emotion, as he carried her effortlessly up the stairs. He was strong, but she was stronger, and here she was being stupid and refusing to take a little bit of pain. Pain that he'd felt, all over his body, when he became a ghoul―
"Does it hurt?" she asked, barely more than a whisper.
"It will always hurt," he repeated, turning a corner.
"How do you deal with it?" She stared at the underside of his jaw, the ragged skin and muscle. Felt the heat he put off. "Why are you so warm?" she muttered.
"I am a large person," he said, blankly. "I put off more heat than a small one." He paused for a moment and looked down at her. "The pain is constant, but I have learned to ignore it."
Clara flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said, looking away. "I'm being rude."
"You are curious," he said, moving forward. "It is well, if you will be requiring my services for the indefinite future."
"Why do you have a contract, anyway?" she wondered, and made a small surprised noise when his hands tightened on her body.
Charon grumbled. "It was the only choice I had," he replied, sounding angry. "I was not strong enough, nor was I smart enough."
"But... but you..." She frowned and tried to make the words work for her. "You're strong now, though," she said.
"It does not matter, in the end," he answered, and lowered her legs to the ground. "I am not who I was. You will change, in time. We all do."
That made sense. Clara remembered who she was before she met Mister Burke―more stupid than she was now, willing to do anything to make a friend and to get help. Thought she was in love with him because he was smart and he took care of her, made sure she was happy―but she'd had to make him happy by doing other things, things that she hadn't liked.
Painful things. She didn't like doing them, but... but that was what it was, right? If you didn't listen, or you did something they didn't like... they could make you behave.
Her dad made her behave with words. Tried to get her to listen to him, stay in the Vault. She hadn't―she couldn't―and when she had a second chance she'd only made it worse by not listening and forcing him to behave for her.
Charon would always behave. He could have killed that other ghoul any time he wanted but he hadn't, because he was forced to behave by his contract. Clara would never have to do anything special to make him stay because he wouldn't leave, unless she told him to.
She didn't have to worry about him. Not like everyone else.
Butch had used secrets to make her behave. Mister Burke had used pain.
She stifled a tiny sob and wiped her eyes. "I don't really want to be me," she said. "I want to change."
"Then you must work to change yourself now," Charon said, holding up his gun and staring at the device in the wall. "Or we will not survive to see the result."
Clara nodded, then sucked snot up into her head as she looked at her Pip-Boy. She frowned. "It says the President is... here, but..."
"Ah, face to face at last. It's high time we met."
She stared up at the computer. "Are―are you talking?!" she said, in disbelief.
"There's a bright future ahead of us, my young friend." It was definitely the computer talking. Clara's mouth dropped open. "I am quite pleased you were able to make it. The trip was not what I had intended, but serves as an adequate test of your abilities."
She couldn't think of what to say. She gaped at the computer. "Are you listening?" Clara nodded, too surprised to speak.
"I need you to act on my behalf, to ensure that our country's future is secured." The computer voice sounded just like those radio broadcasts... "You and I have a chance to make our country a better place for all of us."
Clara squeaked out something, she didn't even know what.
"What I'm going to ask of you may seem a bit... Disturbing. I assure you there's a very good reason for it. I'd like to explain what I want you do to. Will you indulge me for a moment?"
Charon moved behind her, reminding her he was still there. "Um, what's the point of all this?" she asked, nervously.
"The 'point', is that we are hampered at every turn by a world gone wrong. So called 'Super Mutants', Ghouls, horrific creatures..." The computer voice made an "ahem" noise. "The mutations outside these walls must be cleansed before we can prosper. Mutation must be eradicated."
"Horrific," Clara said, shooting a look at Charon, who was now looking at the computer like he'd very much like to destroy it. "Okay."
"I believe your father's work can do that more quickly and efficiently than ever possible before. With a simple modification, it can be used to distribute agents that destroy mutated creatures upon ingestion."
Clara coughed and hiccuped at the same time, trying to stop herself from saying what she wanted to say. To destroy people―people like Charon, people like Fawkes, who used to be normal, but were changed―
"You will change, in time." Charon had said that. His change, Fawkes' change, it all made them stronger and better suited for the wastes. Clara couldn't imagine herself becoming a mutant or a ghoul, but she didn't think they all needed to die. Just the bad ones―
Like Mister Burke. She'd killed him, finished her relationship with him, made him stop hurting people in the wastes. Like the people of Megaton... and now this computer wanted her to do the same thing?
Clara's jaw tensed. This President wanted her to kill more people than Mister Burke ever had. That meant it was much worse, than him. And it needed to die. But she didn't know how to kill it... except to keep helping the Brotherhood.
"What I require of you is really very simple." The computer paused, waiting for her response.
"Okay," she said, lying to it. "Tell me what to do."
"There is a vial in front of you, filled with a modified FEV virus. It needs to be inserted into the control console for the purifier. Once that is done, and the activation code is entered, the purifier will be activated and the process will be automated."
The front of the computer's case opened to show her the vial. Clara reached out and took it, looking it over. Such a little thing, capable of killing so many... Not like the big bomb in Megaton, stuck in that puddle. She wiped a few tears away for the people, before putting the vial away.
Charon was watching her without a word. She didn't make eye contact with him. "I can do that for you, Mr. President," she lied.
"Excellent. I am pleased to know that I can count on you. There isn't much time. I suggest you travel there immediately."
The door opened behind them, and Clara started off into the building, wanting to get out of there as fast as she could. Her feet hit the metal walkways with speed, trying to push herself out of this horrible place―
"You are a better liar than I imagined," Charon said, keeping pace.
Thank goodness he understood―she smiled a little, and glanced back at him. "Thank you," she said, and slowed to a stop, wincing. She breathed out and hissed at the pain in her legs. "We gotta get out of here, Charon. Keep these jerks from doing stuff like that."
Charon only smiled gruesomely, and lifted his shotgun. "As you wish, Clara."