Note: A little more Jericho, in your life.

Update: Comma hunting.

Emily jumped right out of her skin, Charon saying such a ridiculous thing. Like he had said―how would having sex with her make anything better?! She curled up into a ball and pushed herself into the corner of the room, and tried her damnedest not to lose it like a fucking child.

He was right, though. As he stood there, staring at her with a glare that burned into her skin, she knew he was right. She was a child, a stupid child, and she'd never had a fucking chance in the wasteland. Not after her stupid fight with him―not after her leaving him behind―or her father dying to protect what he deemed important―more important than her―her, his only fucking child of a dead mother, a child who had no idea what was going to happen―abandoning her to the Vault, and then even to the wastes, when he died―

She sobbed.

Charon sat on the bed beside her, and she couldn't even flinch because she was in so much pain. A rough hand came out and touched her head, heavy and unyielding. She let the tears fall, ignored him.

"Life is tough," he said, after a few minutes. "I know."

"Fuck you," she whispered. "You got a leg up on me because you're a damn ghoul."

Charon laughed. Again the sound was alien, and it startled her right out of her crying. "I was punished," he said, seriously. "It was my fault. I killed when I ought not to have."

"I've killed," she muttered, balling up her fists into her face.

"You have killed that which deserves to die," he said. "People and ghouls who were stains on the fucking earth the minute they were born."

"Maybe," she said, still whispering.

"You still care." He moved his hand back and forth, mussing her hair. "It would not hurt if you did not."

She cried a little more. She grabbed the dress she'd wadded up and thrown to the corner, and wiped her face with it. "Do you?" she asked.

"No," he said, firmly. "I did not."

She sniffled, and pushed herself up a little. "What does that mean."

"I had no reason to care while I was in that bastard's control," he answered. "So I did not."

"You're free of the contract, now," she mumbled.

"Yes."

"And you think I should care."

Charon's head turned and he stared down at her with a strange face. "You already do, Emily."

"I suppose," she answered, and moved herself up to lean against the wall. She stared at him through her hair. "It's been a weird day," she wavered.

"Very," he agreed.

"At least the door got fixed," she muttered. Her ears hurt from crying. She sighed and pushed her hair off her face. "Doesn't even out everything that's gone on."

"I apologize if I caused you pain," he said, his voice neutral.

"Yeah, okay," she breathed out.

"I am sorry... that what happened, did," he added.

She laughed a little, and sucked snot up into her nose. "Yeah, well. If you hadn't 'woken up' I would have probably had a worse time." She stared at the top of her boot.

"I doubt it," Charon said. She glanced up at him. His face was blank. "I am good at everything that I do."

Emily sputtered out a half-laugh, half-disgusted noise. "You asshole!" she said. "You told me―"

"That you should not want it," he finished. "And I believe that to be accurate."

"The fuck, you know what I want," she snapped, her temper rising again. "You aren't me. You're like, everything that I'm not."

"True." He looked across the room. "But it would not make it okay to have sex."

"Jesus, this is like the conversation we had, only now you're me," she groaned, staring at the ghoul's back. "Can I at least go get drunk, so we can talk properly?"

Charon shook his head. "Think it would be best you get rid of all the booze," he said. "For a while."

Emily scoffed. "And now you're telling me what to do? Fuck you, Charon." She pushed him with one hand, a little shove. Not a hard one. His head snapped around and she flinched.

"You are not particularly bright, Emily," he said, again.

She was quiet for a long time. The only thing she could think about was how she felt so out of place, in any place she went. No one wanted to talk to her, forever. And she suspected it was because she was dumb.

"I know I'm dumb," she finally answered, playing with her hands, looking down. "I test badly," she tried to joke.

"I do not," he said, and stood. "Sleep. You will feel better in the morning."

"But―"

Charon looked down at her but he wasn't glaring, and he wasn't angry. He looked as neutral as he ever had. "I will be downstairs," he said. "If you need anything."

So Emily slept, in her leather armor. She was exhausted anyway.

Around three a.m. that night, Jericho was back at the door. Emily could hear him through the walls, yelling and swearing. She woke from a dead sleep, groggy as hell, and stumbled out of her bedroom, blinking through a haze of exhaustion.

Charon was sitting on the couch, ignoring the ex-raider. Emily wobbled down the stairs and glared at the back of the ghoul's head. He was doing absolutely nothing but stare into the air. "You gonna punch him again?" she asked, irritated.

"Ignore him," he said. "He will pass out, eventually."

"I was sleeping," she growled. "I'm angry, now. I'll deal with it. Stay put." She made her way to the door, and rubbed her eyes. "Alright, but if I start screaming or something, come get me. I don't trust him."

"I will," he said, staring up at the ceiling.

She jerked the door open and stepped out, shutting it behind her. Jericho was standing in front of the shack, an open bottle of whiskey in his hand, opening his mouth to yell again. The mouth turned into a dirty grin, when he saw it was her.

He had a bruise on his face between his eyes, and both were blackened. Dried blood crusted around the corners of his nose, and a lump on his head was a deep purple in the brightness of the moon. "What do you want, now?" she asked, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

"You look real good, in the moonlight," he said. "Damn, girl. Even with those fucking fingerprints on you."

"Fuck you, Jericho," she said, and turned to leave.

He reached around her back and grabbed her breasts, the whiskey bottle dropping to the walk. It landed and began to empty its contents as Jericho pulled her away from the door using the front of her jacket.

"Goddammit!" she swore. "What the fuck is your problem?!" She pried his hands off of her.

"My problem?" He laughed in disbelief. "You got more problems than I ever had."

She rolled her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"The fucking zombie in there―" he pointed back at the door and she realized he'd put himself between her and the door at some point. Shit. "He's being doing ya, huh? That's why you don't want old Jericho around?"

"What-ever, man!" she groaned. "I'm not sleeping with Charon!"

"Oh yeah?" He pushed himself into her face, and she backed up. Again the angle changed, and now she was against the rail. She swore to herself. "Why the fuck I hear sex today, then?"

"You fucking peeper!" she snarled, and slapped him. "Fuck you, Jericho!"

"That an invitation?" he chuckled, drunkenly. His hand was on her hip. The other ran itself down her outer thigh, and back up the inside. "I could do you a hell of lot more gentle that than rotting fuckwad," he said, and pressed his palm against her flesh.

"Get off of me," she said, slapping his hand away. "What I do in my fucking spare time is none of your business." This land is your land, this land is my land... Fuck! She thought that shit had gone away for good this time.

"Aww, now, you promised me another time," he muttered, his voice low. He was pushing her into the rail, getting a little too close for comfort.

"I believe I said 'Mebbe'," she snapped. "Back up!"

"Mebbe is still a yes, half the time," he grinned, and grabbed up her wrists.

"You know if I scream, Charon will come out here and straight-up murder you," she said.

"Girl, if I make you scream, you'll be screaming my name," he said, and then his mouth was on hers. She remembered how badly his breath stunk, his nicked and rotten teeth... and how good it had felt. She'd gone into that one... willingly.

"No," she muffled. "Mmmffiitt!"

"C'mon," he breathed, moving his mouth along her cheek and onto her ear. "You're always off on adventures. Try this one."

"Is there nothing you don't have a pick-up line for, you dirty old man?!" She pushed his head to the side. "Not right now!"

His hands moved back to her hips. "That's what you said, last time. Why you gotta be a cock tease, girl?" He stared at her, his muddy eyes boring into hers.

"Fuck you, man, I'm tired. I got stuck in my stupid house with that―" she gestured at the door. "It took hours to fix that door."

"Fine," he breathed, the sour smell of whiskey brushing itself onto her face. "Fine. Gimme a quickie. Blow me."

She burst into laughter. "You're desperate, Jericho," she cackled. "Absolutely not!"

"Girl I don't care how you do, but I need something to tide me over till you get your shit straight and come begging." He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her forward, intent on jamming his mouth against hers again.

Emily screamed. She'd had enough. He wasn't taking the hint.

The door opened and Charon had Jericho by the back of his neck, his hand on his collar. He pulled the ex-raider over to the railing by Jericho's shack and leaned him out over it, with no expression on his face whatsoever.

"Do not kill him," Emily said.

"This one deserves it," Charon said, pushing him out further. Jericho's hands were tight on the railing, his feet planted but useless. If he lifted one to kick out, he would be dangling over the air in the ghoul's grip.

"Jericho, do you understand what I was saying?" she asked him, quietly.

"I got ya," he grunted.

"And no more of this shit, unless I come to you?"

"Sure, girl, sure," he said, his face setting into a dull and stupid expression.

"Alright. Please let go, Charon..." She stared at him. What he would do now would define how he wanted the world to see him, and would possibly inform the whole of Megaton that he was no longer taking orders.

The ghoul pulled Jericho back over the rail and tossed Jericho to the walk, sending him sprawling to his stomach. Emily sighed. "C'mon," she said, and went back to the house.

Charon had decided to keep up appearances.