(Charon)

For an instance, she became the person I once knew. She became Dez, the ace-shooter and expert marksmen. In between firing off my own rounds, I glance back at her, her hair wild and orange, with a tint of brown. The look in her eyes is undeniable to me. Amidst the pleas of mercy, the curse words, the blood spray, I stand with my back facing hers, protecting the person who once took me from Ahzrukhal almost a year ago. The noise of her double-barrel shotgun echoes louder than anything, even when she opens it to load more shells inside, I hear it.

She did not ask me to show her how to shoot. She did not request advice from me, or seek any hopeful words of comfort. Rather, when the battle was about to commence, she gripped the gun in her hands. I watched carefully, as her fingers ran down the barrel, over the wooden butt, and her fingers interlace with the trigger. It was as if she was reacquainting herself with it. Remembering a time when she once used it, and used it well.

It brings back memories to me, fond, admirable memories of us. The first shootout at Super Duper Mart flashes before my eyes, as I reload my gun with another drum. Her laughter, her smile, her manic look, it pierced through me, and I thought this woman would be the death of me. I smirk over it now, smirk, remembering. I want revenge for what the Brotherhood did to her. I see her move from the corner of my eye, catching a woman who tried to sneak past the two of us. I want her to love me as she once did.

"Look out!"

I yell, catching glimpse of a man last-minute. He crept up behind Dez, while I was busy with another citizen. The knife was in his hand, I saw it glisten in the light coming from a Glowing One. My shotgun left my hands, something I make sure it never does, and I grabbed the man's wrist. My training came back to me, as I swiftly hit him in all the right areas. Under my breath, I muttered the rhythm of the movements, the pressure points I was aiming for.

It was over faster than it had begun, but Dez stared at me, bewildered.

"Do not just stand there, shoot!"

Hearing my voice made her snap back, and she turned from me. It is a fast-paced fight. Even though there are many of us, there are twice as many of them. Feral ghouls and Glowing Ones run rampant between the floors and rooms, hissing, gnawing and clawing at anything that may move or run. I have to be extra careful, with Dez in my presence. She may be able to remember how to shoot, but that is solely based on muscle-memory. I do not trust that she will remember what to do, if faced with a hand-to-hand situation.

I catch her gaze. I spot her, looking up at me. Her eyes are wide with fear, her body covered and splattered in blood, the shotgun in her hand looks warm from the use. The moment excites me. It causes me to remember that within this pandemonium, aside from all else that exists in the world, the impossible happened. Out of pain, suffering and ruthlessness, something grew. It caused two people, two very different people, to shape and change one another. For the better? Possibly. Do I think it is true in my sense? No. Yet it happened. In the middle of the murder and blood, Dez found comfort in my presence, and I in hers.

Things that rare, hardly ever blossom, yet in the most impossible of circumstances, it did. It came out of everything bad, everything that is and was wrong with the world, and it created something beautiful. Against all odds, it grew, and with each event that we witnessed, with each cry of pain we muttered, it became stronger. Looking at her as we stand, paused beside one another, in a dark, long hall, I remember all of this. I remember it more vividly than I do anything else in my life, even the more recent of events.

I have watched this world fall and crumble. I have witnessed men of great strength and power crumble under the smallest of pressures. I have seen the most insignificant person achieve more greatness than the smartest man alive. I have watched the world fall apart, passed my gaze upon dying children, passing them and their dead mothers without the slightest inkling of compassion. I've seen society rebuild and prosper once more, and seen the horrors men of moral are capable of committing. Yet never, in my entire life, have I ever witnessed something so rare, so beautiful, blossom between two of the most unlikeliest of people. Never, have I witnessed the effects of how a person can move you, shift you, shape you into an entirely different being. Until, that is, I met Dezbe.

The world returns to me, and I take a shot at a man running past us. I am in my own mindset, my training is second now. My priority returns to protecting Dez, whilst still keeping a distance from her. I must continue on, as if I do not know her, as if we are nothing more than mere strangers traveling together. The months I have spent without her, I have spent in silence and solitude. People in Underworld have inquired more than once about our relations, but a grunt in their direction was all I allowed them to know. I did not enjoy hearing them whisper and talk. I am a cold-hearted bastard now, I am not the Charon she is beginning to remember.

While we make our way to the end of the hall, shooting, killing anything that moves, my mind reels of memories, of questions that for now will go unanswered. Will Dez still see me as the same Charon she once loved? Will she soon remember it was not some human, but I who held her late into the night, keeping her warm and safe from impending danger? Or rather, will she remember, yet find distaste and discomfort in what I have become? With her new persona, will she still have the ability to look past my outer appearance and see me as someone deserving of her time and love? This, I do not know. I have come to terms that upon her memory's return, she will act different towards me, and the romance we were blossoming will be different. I hope that she can remember, that she once looked for comfort and security in me. That once, a lifetime ago, she endured unimaginable things, just to return to my side, and that if not for me, she might not have survived.

A bullet bounces off of the metal plate I have covering my shoulder. I look ahead to see a man in a suit and hat, aiming gun directly at Dez. He is not faster than I am, and I shoot the gun from his hand, taking out most of his appendage. She will not be taken from me a second time. I will not allow it. Before I could take aim once again, Dez's shotgun rang in my ear like an echo in an hollow room. I watch the man die, bleeding from a gaping hole in his torso.

"Bastard…"

I hear her mutter, and look down. No one else is left. I see the ghouls on the floor below, hissing at one another, walking around in their crippled body. I spy Roy Phillips entering the elevator, Bessie Lynn close in tow. Seeing her follow him angers me. Roy is a bastard, a rotten prick and quite the revenge-seeker. I have no room to judge another, yet I find myself judging him. Not by his words or actions, but by the way he treats that woman. Roy does not see how much Bessie Lynn cares, nor does he realize how lucky he is. Having a woman out here, is a privilege, not a right. Women will naturally care for a man, care for their injuries and nurse them. Being without the kind voice and softness of Dez has made me realize and understand the importance a woman plays in a man's life.

Dez stands beside me, strapping her gun to her back and crossing her arms. She avoids my eyes, looking at everything but me.

"Shall we go ask Roy for our apartment?"

I say 'our'. It brings back memories of Megaton, of Rockopolis, warm memories, ones I wish I could relive. Dez's eyes meet my own, and I see they are flooded with emotion.

"Yeah…I guess."

I want to take her into my arms, and kiss her everywhere. I want to tear off her clothes and make her pain go away, replace it with the pleasure she felt so long ago. So long ago, in that old, abandoned house.

"Is something troubling you?"

I ask, leading her to the stairs. We are halfway down, before she speaks.

"I…don't feel anything. Killing those people…didn't…it didn't make me sad."

"Oh?"

I inquire, stopping on a step to allow her to catch up. She jumps down, standing next to me, staring off into space.

"It just…made me…think of things I guess. I remembered how to do it, that worried me, but then I realized it was once a part of me. Knowing that, I guess it made it all easier."

"I see."

She looks at me. I remember the girl who used to look at me, hoping love would never fail, hoping that hope was real. I have nothing to say.

"Do you think…"

We begin to finish out downward climb on the stairs, and she bites her lip. Her sentence is left unfinished, her words left hanging in midair. I lead her to the elevator, and press the button. Together we wait, in silence, the stench of death stalking us in the darkness.

"Do you think that Charon would have let me be a 'ghoul whore'?"

Her question is not one flushed with pain, but there is a sense of curiousness to it. I sigh heavily, looking at her up and down while she stares at the elevator. Her skin is still milky white, translucent almost. The sleeves of her Brahmin Skin Outfit, the one I have given her, masks the sun from tanning her. I can only see her skin, by the holes in it, by the way she bends her neck, exposing it to me.

"In my honest opinion, I do not think Lucas was entirely truthful in all of his explanations."

Her head snaps in my direction, the elevator doors open, and we step inside. She does not take her eyes from me, as I press the button, and allow the doors to close.

"So…so you think he was lying?"

"Yes."

Her gaze drifts around the room. I want to tell her it is me, I am Charon. I want to tell her she was only with me, and looked at everyone else with distaste and distrust. Yet I feel doing that, may ruin any chances I may have of her properly remembering me. If anything else, when her memory returns, she will still love the idea of me, if not me. Will she love a monster still? I do not know.

"Charon loved me a lot, I think."

I hear my name and instinctively look down at her, a bit too quickly. I must stop doing that. However she is not looking at me, but at the necklace, my necklace, that rests in her hand.

"Yes."

She tucks it back into her shirt, and waits silently. The doors open, and together we step out. A few dead feral ghouls lie scattered around, along with a few dead humans. Roy is close, I can sense him. He is not a man of silence, and he is certainly not a man of stealth. His scent is fresh, hanging in the air, almost masking the stench of death and blood. Dez follows close behind me in the darkness, I can hear her heavy breathing in the silence.

"I think…he's dead."

"Who?"

I ask, coming to a door. Pressing it open, I am greeted by the moonlight shining on plants, illuminating the room, giving it an eerie glow.

"Charon. Or else he would have found me by now."

"Do not give up so easily."

I open a door, and am surprised to find myself looking outside. Atop a balcony, peering over the Capital Wasteland as if I am a god. Dez does not follow me out, and I turn around.

"Are you coming?"

I ask her. Roy appears beside me, he knows what I came for.

"Here."

I watch him take a shot of Whiskey, and hand me the key to my new apartment. The look he gives me tells me that he wishes to speak to me. Turning back to Dez, I hand her the key.

"I will meet you there. Do not worry, it is safe."

Her hands clasp around the key in my fingers. I feel her hands graze mine, a familiar shudder runs down my back.

"I know. I'm…not scared anymore…anyways."

She finally accepts herself. At least, I believe she does. She is no longer fearful of the unknown, she understands now she can kill, and feel nothing from it. I watch her turn her back, giving me a sad smile. She walks into the moonlight, and I sigh. Beautiful, still is, always will be.

Closing the balcony doors, I turn towards Roy. Bessie Lynn is not present. It is just us, and I know he has many questions. I take the beer he hands me, but simply sip at it. I do not drink often, if at all.

"You brought her here."

Roy says, annoyed.

"I have no other choice."

He snorts, shaking his head side to side.

"Charon, we can't trust her."

"Why?"

Roy lights two cigarettes, offering me one. I enjoy smoking after shooting, it relieves my muscles, relaxing me.

"Before I'd have no problem with that human romping around here. Now she's Brotherhood incarnate. She could be working for them."

"She is not, I can assure you."

"Thing is, I know she can't remember jack shit."

"Yes, I was meaning to ask just how you managed to hear of that."

Roy looks at me, a scoffing look on his face.

"Hard not to hear. She went to Lucas Simms in Megaton, and I picked up word through traders, and Quinn. I figured by the way she acted, she doesn't remember you, either."

"She remembers me. She just does not know it is me."

"How is that possible?"

"She remembers a Charon. She knows of her relations with him, but she is still unaware it is me."

"Everyone knows, Charon. Everyone knows where she is, now. They're going to come looking for her, and I'm not having some fuckin' smoothskins taking back what I've just fought for."

"I do not think the Brotherhood is looking for her."

"Tune in to Three Dog once in a while, hear the word. They're looking, and they're pissed."

"Then kill them on sight."

I throw my cigarette off the balcony, and walk away from Roy. I do not inform him of Gunny, nor do I tell him of how Dez came to be this way. I simply leave, closing his balcony doors behind me. If the Brotherhood are in fact looking, they will send Gunny. I can only imagine by now he has confessed to his attachment to her, and I do not want her reminded of him. I will kill him myself, if given the chance.

Entering my apartment, I spy Dez's things laying on the bed. The lights have not yet been turned on, and it is dark. I do not see Dez anywhere in the darkness, but a slight, cool breeze brushes my bare arm. Looking over the room, I see a door, slightly open, on the far side of the room. I have my own balcony, I presume.

My feet feel heavier, as I take soft, slow steps towards the cracked door. Thoughts race through my mind, I wish I could block them out. The sensation of Dez's skin against my own makes my skin tingle, makes whatever hair I have left rise up on end. I have gone so long without her. I have spent so many nights mourning her, wishing I could have done something for her. I have hated myself, day in and out, for allowing the Brotherhood to take her from me. Yet I knew then, and I know now, that even with my training, I would not have been able to fight everyone in the Citadel.

I open the door wider, quietly staring at her. The moonlight reflects off her skin, and wisps of smoke swirl above her head. I hear her inhale on a cigarette, and examine her, the moon and stars shining. If she only remembered me, I would be able to take this moment, make it my own.

"Dez?"

I say, and she jumps a bit, turning towards me. She smiles slightly, before turning back, leaning against the rail and looking out at the barren desert. Outlines of old highways stand in the distance, old houses can be seen if looked for carefully. I stand behind her, a few feet separating us.

"Do I have to go now? Since this place is yours?"

"No. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish."

"I don't know how to live on my own."

"Then stay. Stay until your memory returns."

It feels like I am pleading with her. I never begged, I do not beg, it is not who I am. Even now, even then, it has never been a part of my being.

"You've done so much for me…and I don't even know your name."

I say nothing. There is nothing I can say. The wind blows, it is cold, but Dez makes no movement.

"I think…I should stay. It's…safe here. I can wait for Charon."

I am Charon. I step closer to her, unaware of my movements. I do not want to make her uncomfortable, but it has been so long. My body is no longer listening to my mind, I cannot help myself.

"That would be best."

I say to her, closing my eyes. I want her to stay with me, to be safe here, in the tower. I will lock her away, until she can remember. Until she can look at me once again with those big, doe eyes. I anticipate hearing her say my name again, hearing it flushed with such pleasure as it was the one night we were together.

"Will you ever tell me your name?"

She asks, her voice soft, smooth. I feel my tee shirt rubbing against my chest, as I try to calm my own racing heart. I take another step forward, closing the gap between us. If she turns around, her face will be in my chest. She can sense my presence, I can feel it.

"In due time."

I place my hand on her shoulder, gentle, as I do not want to frighten her. She does not react to my touch, but simply smokes, as if she does not care.

"I wish you would now."

"No."

I stoke her arm, and place my opposite hand on her other arm. Gently, I grip her muscles in my hand, rubbing them, massaging them. She does not move, she stays still, and I lean in, her hair brushing my face.

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable."

"…No."

I sigh, relieved. She leans back, pressing into my chest.

"I feel safe. I know you wouldn't hurt me, cuz you would have by now."

"You are right."

I wrap my arms around her body. Her curves are so familiar, as my forearms press against her breasts. It feels as if she has never left me, as if she has always been by my side.

"Do…do you think I slept with ghouls?"

"I do not know. I did not know you."

I lie. She has. She has lain with me. With only me. No other ghoul has touched her, aside from Gob. No other man, aside from Butch, has laid with her.

"Does Roy?"

"No."

Again, a lie. Everyone has heard of her, every ghoul in this tower, every person in the Wasteland. I do not tell her the truth, I do not want anyone to tell her. She needs to remember on her own. I lower my head, her ear grazing my cheek. Her neck is so close to my lips, they tingle with anticipation.

"I guess you want something for saving me, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

I say quietly. This is intimate, or it would be, if she only remembered.

"I mean…you want something for…for saving me. Lucas…said I slept with ghouls…"

I understand. I know what she is getting at. My body wants to take advantage of the situation, yet my mind is telling me otherwise. It tells me to wait, to be patient. I feel conflicted.

"I am not sure."

"Charon wouldn't know…I guess. He's probably not even looking for me…"

Lowering my head, I move closer to her neck. I feel my own breath against my face as it bounces off of her neck. I feel her shudder in my arms, I feel the light of the moon dancing off of us. I do not know what I should do. I do not know if I should...

"Dez…"

I sigh, closing my eyes. I try to imagine she is the woman I once knew, try to pretend she is just as eager as I am. My lips press down against her neck, her skin smooth, warm against my own flesh. My mind screams at me, tells me to stop, that I am not doing what is right. I must listen.

Pulling away from her, I storm away from the balcony, storm into the apartment, slamming the door behind me. It is angering, to be in this situation. It enrages me, forces me to feel such confusion. I cannot stand it, I cannot tolerate it. Yet I must. For her sake, for the sake of her ever retuning to me, I must.