The knowledge that the girl was alive and hopefully coming home soon had stoked the fire that fueled his will to go on. Charon felt, for the first time in weeks, a purpose for getting up each morning. He decided that he'd wait in Megaton for Noel to return. His hunting trips would be limited to the day only so that he could spend each evening back at the city in the hopes that he'd catch word of her.

Despite everything, being in the city still rubbed him the wrong way. Certain things grated on his fucking nerves, and now, newly rejuvenated at the hope of seeing Noel, he was planning on fixing them. He headed for Moriarty's.

Charon walked into the back room of saloon without knocking. He ignored Nova's stunned yell, pushed on the door forcefully, and stood unwavering in front of Colin Moriarty.

"How much do you want for him?"

Moriarty looked back at him from his chair, puzzled at the sudden intrusion before he covered his initial reaction with a sly grin.

"God damn, ye dark bastard. Ever hear o knockin'?

Charon narrowed his eyes. "Answer my question," he demanded.

Colin snickered. "Fell fer the kid, have ya? I wondered why ye kept coming back night after night." He laughed at his own joke. "No," he shook his head. "Gobs me best employee. Can't be lettin' him get away, can I?"

He growled. "You can and you will. I repeat: How much?"

Moriarty looked at the ghoul and put a finger on his dry lips as though he were seriously thinking about it. Finally he responded.

"My Gob's dear to me heart. I'll let him go fer 25,000 caps."

Charon shook his head without hesitation. "No good," he growled, "too much."

Moriarty let out a small laugh, leaning back on the chair and tucking his hands behind his head. "Too bad, friend. It's 25,000 or nothing."

Charon grimaced. The asking price was exorbitant. His own contract had only cost Noel 8,000. He had the caps, only barely, from hunting group after group of raiders and stripping and selling their possessions to Moira. He looked out from the corner of his eye back towards the bar. He could vaguely make out Gob wiping down some of the beaten drinkware. He hoped the idiot would be worth it.

Bringing his eyes back to Moriarty he nodded once. "Done," he growled, reaching to his pack to produce two bulging pouches of caps. He reached in again and produced another smaller pouch, busting at the seams. He tossed all three onto Moriarty's desk. "Give me his contract," he commanded.

Moriarty's eyes widened at the small fortunate lain out before him. He pursed his lips and let out a long slow whistle. "Woooo. Never figured ya for a high roller."

"Enough," Charon responded gruffly. "His contract."

Absently Moriarty's hand went to his shirt pocket and pulled out a small worn piece of folded paper. Apparently he did keep Gob close to his heart. How ironic. He handed the contract to Charon without looking, his eyes fastened on the caps before him.

Charon snatched it quickly, opening the paper and reading its contents in a matter of seconds. It was Gob's contract all right. He folded it deftly and tucked the paper into his pocket, turning to leave the room. Just before he exited he turned his head and spoke to Moriarty in a gruff voice.

"I see no further reason to be as forgiving with you as I have been. With Gob no longer in your employ, I suggest you be… careful." He smiled to himself as he exited the room, recalling the shock on the Irishman's face. He stepped briskly into the main bar, ignoring Nova's flustered expressions as he marched up to Gob.

"Go," he said gruffly to the smaller ghoul. "You're leaving." He fished the contract from his pocket in a fluid motion and pushed it into Gob's hand. "You will stay with Doc Church. I have made arrangements for you already. If you would like an escort back to Underworld, let me know."

Gob stared at him in disbelief, his mouth moving wordlessly as he watched Charon's silent form slip out the door.

* **********

Charon had indeed set Gob up to stay with Doc Church. (Nothing that a few caps in room and board couldn't handle.) It was a hell of a lot better for the smaller ghoul to be slinging bandages than slinging booze. Besides, Doc Church was a grump and having Gob follow him around like a lost puppy might ease him out a bit (if not that, then it'd be entertaining to watch at least).

Charon spent his evenings at the Doc's place mostly, playing cards by the electric lights strung around the makeshift hospital. They were a motley crew, but it would do for now. Charon simply needed to stay put until Noel arrived. He hoped it would be soon. Word about the girl was coming quicker now. Letters from Wolfgang and his crew (he'd received notes now from Lucky and Doc Hoff too) were coming a couple times a month, and Three Dog had recently revived his newsflashes with tidbits on the girl. It seemed she was doing well out there. She'd gotten people talking and some were even acting out openly against the enclave. It was terrific -- not that people were doing shit (Charon couldn't care less) but that the girl was alive and kicking still. It seemed the more he heard about her, the more people loved her. Three Dog referred to her as a saint, and the town of Megaton seemed to take some pride in the fact that she put up residence there.

It may just have been Charon's imagination, but over time the residents seemed to take a warming towards the ghouls too. It may have been the simple fact that they associated Charon with the girl (they knew that Noel, in her own way owned him), or that they were finally giving him some credit for dispatching countless raiders and slavers from their midst. Charon also chalked some of the credit to Gob, who seemed to do well with his new profession – so much so that Doc Church even seemed to take a liking to the kid too. No doubt being associated with the field of medicine was doing much more for the ghoul's reputation than being associated with a societal vice (and the bastard Moriarty on top of it). That, coupled with the fact that people were beginning to associate Gob and Charon together. They knew that Noel claimed ownership over Charon, and Charon, in his own weird way, had claimed some ownership over Gob.

The long and short of it was that the town pokes didn't just ignore the two ghouls anymore. They actually smiled at them, tried to engage them in conversation, and started treating them as though they weren't goddamn beasts. Gob relished the new attention whereas Charon shied away from it. He didn't care that the town began looking to him, more than Lucas, for protection. He cared about Noel, and she still wasn't here.

It was an evening just like any other. Charon, Gob, and Doc Church were sitting around a medical cot in the hospital. They were playing a simple hand of poker, their nightly ritual, turned more interesting with small wager of caps. If he weren't so goddamn miserable without the girl, Charon might even be enjoying himself. Gob tended to prattle and joke incessantly, but he was easy enough to ignore. The Doc was a simple man to get along with, and Charon was grateful that he took some of the brunt of Gob's attention away from himself.

They were just about to ante up for another round when Lucas Simms bust through the door, gripping something in his hand that he had shielded from the downpour outside. The radio hissed with static over one of Three Dog's songs. There hadn't been any news of Noel tonight, but that was about to change.

"God damn boys. Don't you know betting's illegal?" Lucas said in a jovial voice. "I ought to write all your asses up for this one." He winked at Gob. "But I won't. I'm tired and it's raining cats and dogs outside. I'll just pretend I didn't see this little assembly so long as you're willing to make room for one more."

Gob laughed and Charon grimaced at the sound. Gob was so goddamn happy with his new life and Charon was still fucking miserable. If he hadn't taken such a liking to the kid he'd have half a mind to slap him.

"What's that in your hand, boss?" Gob asked after Lucas settled himself in for the next round.

"Ah," Lucas said, pulling his wet duster off his body. "This, I had almost forgot. Here," he said, holding it out to Charon. "Got this just a few minutes ago. Moira gave it to me. Said some guy named Lucky gave it to her when she bought ammo earlier today. It's for you."

Charon wordlessly took the damp envelope. Moira. Charon was surprised that the note had seen the light of day again after being taken by the absentminded Moira Brown. Charon was stunned that she didn't lose her way in a goddamn box.

He opened the envelope carefully, not wanting to rip or smudge the message inside. He was starting to get used to seeing these. It seemed that when a trader came to town they seemed to be toting a letter or a message for him. More often than not they were from Wolfgang, and usually said little other than "Noel's fine…" or "Caught word of her here…" Charon had to give the big bastard credit. Wolfgang could be a stand-up guy.

"What's it say?" Gob asked, curious, before Charon had even unfolded the note. The bigger ghoul frowned and shot him a warning glare. Gob shut up at once.

Charon felt his heart beat irregularly as soon as he recognized the flowing script. He knew her handwriting in an instant. He blinked quickly, trying to bring the faint letters into clearer focus, suddenly excited.

Charon,

It's all over. I'm coming home. I miss you so much.

-- Noel

He couldn't help it. He started laughing, rubbing his eyes with thick calloused fingers before re-reading the short note repeatedly. It was like sunshine in a goddamn storm, this letter from her. She was finally coming back.

"Well…" Doc Church coaxed. "You heard the kid. What does it say?"

Charon just laughed, the three men looked at each other warily. They'd never heard Charon laugh before. Maybe the ghoul had lost his goddamn mind.

"Hey," Gob asked, curious. "What's that on the back?"

Charon stopped laughing and quickly turned the damp letter over in his hand. He smiled and shook his head immediately as he recognized the thick bold lettering on his contract. She had crossed off all the words in a faint line, leaving some simple sentences of her own at the bottom.

You are your own man now. I love you.

The sight of his own contract in his hand made him laugh all the harder.