"Shoot! Run like hell and shoot!" Aimee exclaimed over her shoulder as the two bolted across the plaza like a couple of invisible mad men (or ghoul and woman, rather). She still had the dish clutched to her chest as she sprinted, Charon followed only a yard behind her, twisting back to shoot at the small Super Mutant horde that followed them. A horde of Super Mutants consisted of at least five of the damn things. They were fortunate that the Mutant's were only wielding hunting rifles and sledgehammers or nail boards- if they ran into one that was using a missile launcher or a minigun?...
Neither wanted to think about it.
Charon caught up to Aimee's frantic sprint, and she watched him move- dancing about the battlefield like an elegant butterfly and handing deliverance to his prey. He looked forward, reloading his shotgun as he ran. He turned back and shot repeatedly, watching the Mutants fall forward, dead and mutilated. Only one followed now, swinging or shooting blindly. The Stealth Boys did give them some advantage.
But as he looked forward to reload his shotgun again, a Mutant picked up a piece of rubble and whipped it at Charon, connecting with the back of his head. He hitched forward in a tumble, dropping his combat shotgun in the process, and his roll was halted when he was slammed into a fallen pillar that lay across his path. He sat up, vision blurry with a high-pitched ringing in his ears- it was like he had a horrible hangover and someone was grating metal upon metal or dragging their nails down a chalkboard mercilessly.
In his foggy vision, he saw a Super Mutant tower over him with the afternoon sun filtering over the cranny of its thick neck and broad shoulder.
"You die now!" It bellowed, swinging its sledgehammer high above its head.
But then, the sun was eased away as a glittering figure darted between the two with its feet spread apart in a bracing stance. The Lander dish clattered to the dirt at his side. His vision returned to normal momentarily and he saw the Stealth Boy's veil disperse, immediately recognizing Aimee as the figure standing in front of him.
"Mistress!" He exclaimed, his own invisible veil disappearing as well.
Charon watched as she pulled out Patience as the sledgehammer swung down. She brought the flat side of Patience's blade against one of her palms, holding the handle with her other hand, and poised it high above her head to take the brunt of the downward swing.
"Tiny human!" The Mutant cried angrily. "Should not be able to block Mutant attack!"
A broad grin crawled onto her face as a crude look swirled into her beaming eyes.
"You haven't seen anything from this "tiny human" yet!" She exclaimed, shoving it back and lashed out with the rusted blade.
The point of the lawn mower blade danced across the Super Mutant's chest, letting crimson droplets bubble to the surface of the wound and it growled at Aimee while stumbling back. She clamped her hand down on the motorcycle handle, igniting the blade and with a howl, thrusted Patience upward. She slid right through the Mutant's massive jugular, and created a sickening gargle of noise as she exited through the back of its head at the base of its skull. Its eyes rolled up into its sockets, and Aimee dislodged her weapon, kicking into its stomach with her boot so it fell back into a nearby trench, clapping up a cloud of dust in its wake.
Aimee allowed herself a few heavy breaths as she looked back at Charon on the ground with sweat beading on her brow.
"You- You okay?" She asked as she staggered over to him, cutting off Patience's fuel supply so the blade was no longer ignited.
"What made you think slipping a frag grenade into the armor of a Super Mutant was ever a good idea?" He replied hoarsely, staring as she outstretched a hand to help him up.
"Hey! How was I supposed to know that my Stealth Boy was going to bug out at that exact moment?" She exclaimed sourly, her face contorting into an irritated expression.
She used the term "bug out" when she sometimes received a faulty Stealth Boy. A faulty Stealth Boy's shield would waver, making the user appear and disappear for a few moments. Aimee was trying to slip a frag grenade to a Mutant as a "surprise attack" when her Stealth Boy decided to bug out, and she was spotted. That's why they were running only moments ago.
Aimee holstered Patience on her hip so she could help the ghoul get to his feet with a short grunt of effort. He seemed to be having trouble, as he wobbled slightly on his feet, and his eyes seemed unfocused and bleary- as if he were having trouble seeing.
"C'mon big guy- we still gotta job to do." She quickly looked him over. "You okay?"
He nodded slightly, trying not to enrage the throbbing wound on the back of his head from when he got nailed by the stone.
"I am fine." Charon replied as he knelt down and picked up the abandoned dish and handed it to her, retrieving his bag and his dropped shotgun.
"Onward!" She exclaimed happily, pointing towards the Washington Monument triumphantly.
Discarding their now useless Stealth Boys, the duo dashed towards the deteriorating obelisk just as another small horde of Super Mutants began to chase after them. The familiar whine of a minigun rang in their ears, and ahead Charon could see two Brotherhood of Steel warriors guarding the front gates. Both were armed with miniguns, and they were aiming for the Super Mutants that were now following them. The two finally made it to the gate just as the last Mutant was killed.
"Delivery service!" Aimee called playfully, stopping to a halt in front of one soldier, trying to stifle her heavy breathing and held up the dish to show him.
"Ah, excellent- the replacement dish," He replied graciously, glancing towards Charon. "Is he… With you?"
"Yes, he is." She replied rudely, brows furrowing together in irritation. "Is my friend going to be a problem for you?"
"He is not permitted inside." The soldier shook his head. "I don't see how we need two of you to replace the dish, anyways."
"Like hell he's staying out here with you assholes and a Mall full of Super Mutants!" She snarled, pointing at him with a sharp finger. "Listen you fuck-wad, you're going to let us both in! Got it?"
Charon glanced to his infuriated employer. It was difficult to take her seriously when she was angry, as she looked like a pouting three year old- lower lip jut out, cheeks puffed up and red with hell's fire dancing in her pale irises, and the fact that she couldn't come up with anything threatening for a comeback added up against her.
"Either he waits out here, or you both wait out here." He replied sternly, still staring at Charon.
"I see this is how the Lone Wanderer is repaid for all her kindness and generosity?" He murmured quietly, shaking his head with disappointment and his arms folded over his chest.
He knew that if this didn't work to get them inside, nothing would.
"What was that?" The second soldier asked, coming over out of curiosity.
"Charon!" Aimee exclaimed, flabbergasted, and spun around to gawk at him. "I don't use that card to get what I want!" She flailed her arms around her head, as if trying to get her point across.
"The- The Lone Wanderer? You're the Lone Wanderer?" The first soldier asked dubiously.
She looked back at them, sighing with defeat.
"I give up. Maybe I should just crawl under a rock, or something…" She muttered, and only Charon heard what she said.
"Well if that's the case, then hurry up and replace that dish!" He exclaimed, turning back to a computer terminal that resided behind him and typed in the code, causing the metal doors of the stone wall structured around the base of the obelisk to grind open.
Aimee blinked in disbelief, shooting Charon an annoyed glance, and quickly scurried past the gates. He followed, not even bothering to glance at either soldier as he ran past them and into the monument. He was met by his employer standing in front of an old elevator, waiting for it to come down from the top floor. He stood next to her.
"Fucking Brotherhood of Steel…" She grumbled to herself. "No respect whatsoever… Can't believe we have to rely on them… Jerkoffs…"
"Mistress?" He glanced at her as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. She jumped into the cubicle, looking back at him.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" She smiled, bouncing up and down impatiently. "Get in here!"
"Do you suppose that a 200 year old elevator would be safe? Assuming that it has had little to no service over the last few centuries?" He asked with a cocked brow muscle, following her into the elevator anyways.
"Oh c'mon Char-bear! Where's your sense of adventure?" She asked as the elevator doors closed and slowly began to climb up.
"My sense of adventure is gone- just like my sanity…" He mumbled, shaking his head.
"What was that?" She asked, eyes darting up to him.
"Nothing." He replied, glancing down at her.
With a bout of awkward silence, they both stared back at the shiny double doors, away from each other.
"…Why did you come back for me?" Charon asked softly, arms folding over his chest as he leaned into the back wall. His head began to ring again- damnit all… His mind could barely seethe the words!
"Why would I ever leave you behind?" Aimee answered with a gentle smile, looking up at him with her arms folding over her chest as well and she arched a playful eyebrow. "Did you think I was just going to leave you there to get torn apart by Super Mutants?"
"You had more important things at hand that needed to be done," He pointed out, still not looking at her. "I could have managed."
"No, don't do that," She scolded and shook her head, stepping towards him to place a hand on his arm. "Char-bear, we're a team. We go in together, we come out together. I've got your back, and you've got mine. We don't do things like this alone."
He glanced down at her curiously. "And why is that?"
She smiled gently. "You think being alone makes you stronger?..." She shook her head once more, as if to answer her own question. "It doesn't. I've tried, after I escaped the Vault and tried to find dad… I tried to keep it where it was just me, myself and I when Moriarty wouldn't give me information on him. I shut everyone else out…" Her eyes met his, and a sad smile had somehow dominated her face. "I shut myself away from other people… I didn't want to have anything to do with this world. I was angry and frustrated."
Charon couldn't quite see that- seeing Aimee so… Detached and unwilling to communicate with another human being. He wondered what had changed her, because from what she says and what he sees, she's nothing at all like who she was before. He had to admit, there were times she would get irritated or mad, and he also had to admit it was only directed at him once or twice (like when he tried to keep her from absorbing radiation for Moira's ridiculous Survival Guide) and she'd quickly make up for it and apologize- or her anger and frustration was directed to the bigots who decided to voice their dislike for ghouls.
He suddenly wondered if he had something to do with her change of character?...
Aimee leaned her head into his arm and closed her eyes, resting for a few moments until the elevator chimed again and the doors slid open to reveal the top floor. It was a very small room, different electrical boxes with blinking lights and screens lined a far corner next to pythons of wires and cables that snaked out of a small hole in the wall. A dirty mattress with a few pillows and some disheveled blankets sat in the corner next to the elevator.
"C'mon," She spoke, stepping out groggily and walked over to the hole in the wall and put the dish down on the electrical boxes to look outside. "Oh- Oh my God…" She muttered.
"What is it, mistress?" He asked, walking out after her with the doors snapping shut behind him and his vision turning bleary once more.
"The- The view…" She answered, pulling back from the opening and turned back to him, motioning for him to come over. "Come look at this!"
Charon obeyed and dropped his pack next to the mattress, stepping over and poked his eyes through the hole. He could see over the Capital Wasteland for miles- nothing but barren landscape of brown, meeting the depressing grey horizon as the sun dipped down. Smoke flittered up in trails from the Mall below, streaking the sky, and he saw the weaves of the trenches with yellow dots stomping through them. The Capital Wasteland was a canvas of dark, depressing colors- it was nothing like what he remembered when he was up here on an "exclusive" trip with Rose… It was lush greenery far and wide, colorful ants of people scurrying about on the ground below while birds flocked to the deep blue sky, and once in a while, a vacationer's plane or government Vertibird would pretend to be a bird and flock with them. Nothing was like how he remembered… At times like this, it made him wish that his mind was growing feeble and playing tricks on him- making him believe that he knew what paradise was. It was easier to forget things like that, because pretending that living in hell and dreaming of paradise caused more pain than facing that he once lived and belonged in paradise.
"I should get to work," Aimee poked him in the side with her wrench, causing him to give an involuntary grunt of surprise. She pointed to the mattress when he looked back at her. "You look like you just took a stroll through the deepest circle of hell! Kick back and stay a while, big guy."
He nodded and staggered back to the mattress, plopping down on it and tried to keep from snarling at his ringing head, causing the room to go into a downward spiral around him. He closed his eyes to steady himself, waiting for the shrill tone in his ear canals to subside before opening them again, and he rolled his shoulders to relax himself. He thought better of not eating anything, there was a chance he wouldn't be able to hold it down in his current state of shrill noises and spinning rooms. Instead, he watched Aimee work with slightly blurry vision. He rubbed his eyes to get the unwanted affect to go away.
Aimee was practically halfway out the window so all he caught was the view of her bent over, broad hips jutting out with her slender legs weighing her down inside the monument. She stretched up a little, probably to get better reach on the dish outside so she could unbolt it, and her shirt rode up slightly to reveal the curve of her lower back and hips with her shorts riding up her thighs. He forced himself to look away, but the image still lingered in his mind.
"Almost… Got it…" She grunted, sighing in triumph when she retreated back into the small room with the partially destroyed dish in her hands, and she turned around to show him. "Would you look at this?"
The dish was chipped all around the edges and cracked along one side to the middle. It was riddled with dents, and even had a suckered hole or two in it. Three Dog had mentioned that a Super Mutant made short work of the dish, thinking that it'd be fun to shoot the "shiny thing" at the top of the Washington Monument…
Aimee shook her head and tossed it to the side uncaringly, grabbing some pliers and a screwdriver from on top of the electrical box at her side and slipped them into one of the cups of her bra for easy access. She grabbed the dish and halfway disappeared through the opening once more to put it into place. Charon continued to keep his eyes away from her, finally looking when she was finished and her tools clattered on the floor at her feet, too lazy to pick them up, obviously. She stumbled over to him, falling back on the mattress at his side and gave a deep inhale of relief, closing her eyes and leaning into his side so her head rested on his shoulder.
"We did it, Char-bear… God, that was a picnic, wasn't it?" She chuckled, looking up at him and pulled back to grab her bag. "We should get something to eat and rest up a bit."
Charon nodded, gaining an unwanted visit from his minor head wound and growled slightly, rubbing his eyes.
"Char-bear?" Aimee asked with her ears catching his noise of discomfort, laying a hand on his arm with her other small hand holding two cans of Cram as best she could. "Are you alright?" One can finally tumbled into her lap, as her hand couldn't hold both at once- they were two big.
"I am fine…" He muttered through clenched yellow teeth, trying to massage away the ringing that eased itself into his ears. Nothing is helping…
"Hey, what's this?" He could feel her fingers brush against the nape of his neck and he cringed away slightly, not ready for the sudden contact. It felt strange for something so smooth and soft touching the rough and damaged complexion of what remained of his skin.
"Charon!" She exclaimed, eyes widening at the blood that coated her fingertips, and they darted up at him to show him. "You're bleeding!"
"It is nothing, mistress." He replied, vision blurring slightly before turning back to normal.
Aimee shook her head, grabbing his shoulder to twist him away slightly, and her jaw dropped at the gash on the back of his head.
"What the actual fuck!" She cried, fingers digging into his arm. "You have a concussion and you didn't think of telling me?"
His ears began to ring again, and he shrugged her off. "I am fine, I felt no need to alarm you of my injuries."
"So you admit that you're hurt!" She grabbed a clean rag from her bag and some purified water, dousing the rag till it was damp and rung it out so the plump droplets fell onto her bare thighs, and she turned back to him with the outstretched rag. "Here, let me clean you up-"
He backed away into the wall, brushing her hand back. "No."
"Oh, stop acting like such a child!" She exclaimed, trying to grab at him again. "Let me help you!"
"No," He growled, dodging her advances again. "And you do not have the right of saying that to me- you are the most immature person I know."
"Charon!" She grabbed onto the front of his armor to pull him towards her. "Don't change the damn subject! You're just as childish as I am for not wanting help when you may have a concussion, and when you're obviously injured!"
He reacted out of instinct and grabbed for both of her wrists, pinning them above her head with each hand as he knelt in front of her. Her legs were crooked up to her chest in front of her body, and the damp rag dropped from her hands onto the mattress at her side.
Aimee's lips pursed together, brows furrowing into a frustrated crease.
"You help me… why can't you allow me to do the same?"
"Because it does not work that way." He snarled.
"I told you that we're partners! I watch your back, and you watch mine!" She exclaimed. "Stop being such a fucking baby and let me help you!"
Charon saw the enraged glint in her eyes, and he couldn't help but feel that he was probably going to lose this argument. Why was he resisting so? Why didn't he just let her help him, like she wanted? Like he (more or less, he'd rather not say) needed?
He sighed quietly and slowly let go of her wrists, picking up the dropped rag to hand to her.
"…Fine." He replied softly. "We'll do it your way."
Her eyes widened as Charon spun around and sat in front of her with his legs crossed and his hands rested in his lap, back hunched slightly. She quickly scrambled to her knees and began dabbing at the wound.
"Jesus, when did this happen?..." She muttered behind him, and he could hear rustling as if she were opening up one of their backpacks. "When you fell?"
He didn't answer- he didn't feel that the question was directed at him, but she was perhaps talking to herself. She did that when she worked, she claimed it helped her think.
The can of Cram Aimee held earlier along with a bottle of dirty water dropped into his lap.
"I know Stimpaks won't heal you… Radiation does." She spoke, her chin resting on his shoulder to look down at the items with her cheek brushing his. "I don't feel good about giving you irradiated water, but it'll heal you faster. So, drink up, bucko." She replied, and he could feel the edge of her lips twitch into a smile against his cheek. She disappeared back behind him to finish cleaning his wound.
As he sipped quietly and she worked just as quietly on fixing him up, he could feel the effects of his concussion alleviate themselves and gentle relief washed over him as he glanced to the opening in the wall. He was not looking forward to the long walk ahead of them back to Galaxy News Radio…
"Finish eating, and we'll get to sleep." Aimee yawned behind him, craning open her box of Cram and dropped the slightly bloodied rag by her bag.
"As you wish, mistress…" He murmured, still looking out the opening into the depressing grey sky.
Charon glanced back to his employer after several moments, already finding her can of Cram empty and discarded by the edge of the bed and she was fast asleep. Her legs were sprawled out over the mattress, one hand lay across her stomach while the other rested over her closed eyes. She cooed contentedly with the sounds of sleep, her chocolate hair a ruffled nest framing her head.
He leaned into the wall, folding his arms over his chest and reluctantly closed his eyes, promptly following his mistress into slumber.