35.
Max doesn't move for a while, watching Charon keep blinking hard, forcing his eyes open every time they slip closed, struggling for a few minutes before he finally falls asleep, his head lolling down onto his chest.
The outburst had so clearly taken up the last of his strength, which means he likely hasn't slept this whole time, and that Max has pushed him to the point of exhaustion yet again without even being conscious enough to know it. Still, who else could be blamed? Charon stayed up for him, worrying for him. It's not Charon's fault. A lot of things Max had blamed him for aren't, either, and still he had blamed Charon for them. He had yelled at Charon for them. He had hit Charon for them.
When he's sure Charon isn't going to jolt awake if he moves (or at least pretty sure), he forces himself to his feet, unsteadily making his way down the stairs. He's a little more than halfway before Nova comes out from the kitchen and gasps, running over to support him.
"I'm okay…" Max tries to say, but his voice cracks and is too hoarse to be believable, and he hates it. But then, he thinks, no one he loves is okay because of him, anyway, so he doesn't deserve to be either. He deserves weakness. He deserves all the pain the drugs had ever so briefly taken away from him.
Nova clicks her tongue, helps him down anyway and gently sets him on the couch before glancing upstairs. "Charon?"
"He fell asleep," Max murmurs, tightening his grip on the blanket around him and looking away. "How long...has it been? That I was...like that?"
"About a week," she says, offering him a little smile.
"Jesus. You look so tired…"
"Yeah." She sighs, fetching two glasses of cold water from Wadsworth and giving one to Max before sitting in the chair across from him with the other. "But so do you."
"I am. I feel…"
"A little better, but in some ways worse, right?" she asks, and he nods slowly, staring down at the glass, wiping away a droplet from the side of it with his thumb.
"Yeah. About done with the withdrawal. Reality's starting to come back." She sighs, leaning back, and takes a long drink. "It sucks, doesn't it?"
"Everything sucks," Max mutters. "I hurt him. I hurt him so much."
"You weren't so great to Gob, either, you know."
"I know " Max says, closing his eyes. "I'm...I'm so sorry. I was...I was so mad. But I just feel...kinda numb, now."
"All because they spent the night together."
"How are you not mad?" Max asks, confused. "Gob is your boyfriend. Charon...he was... he was my...my Charon. My Charon. I'm not...I'm tryin' not to think about it, 'cause I know it was because I wouldn't help him, but…"
Nova just smiles, just a little, and he stares at her.
"What?"
"Do you believe in fate?" she finally asks, and Max feels his heart drop into his stomach. Fate? She can't mean it how it sounds.
"You mean…" He tries not to let the despair he's starting to feel leach into his voice. "Like…"
"It doesn't have to be romantically," she continues. "It doesn't have to be anything like that. It's just the idea that some things are meant to happen, that they're sort of...planned out, by something out there."
Max scoffs. "Like...God? Nova, I used to pray. I used to go to church. No one ever helped me when I needed it, when kids were beating me up every stupid day and when—" He cuts off, rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "I didn't get any help."
"I don't believe in God," she says, casually.
"Then...then what are you—"
"I said some thing. It doesn't have to be the God the churches teach. It's just...an influence, maybe? Something happening that the universe, that time itself, always knew would."
"Like…?"
"Well...your parents, your entire family history, all leading to make you," she says. "Charon, surviving all that he has, the war, for more than two hundred years. And you happening to be the one who took his contract, who might free him from it, and who made him feel free for the first time."
"But...that just happened," Max says. "I ran out of ammo. I was just there. I was looking for my dad."
"And with Charon, you found him. You got to see him again."
"Barely," Max murmurs. "Don't wanna talk about him."
She nods, and starts again. "Fifteen years ago, I met Gob. He was...different, back then. Not so sad. He had some hope we might get out for a while. He's already a little better, a little more like that, but he'll never be the same. What Colin did to him...what he's been through...no one in the world should be treated that way. Same with Charon, and you, and me. Abuse, it...it changes people. It can make them kinder, but it also makes them afraid, unable to trust. And sometimes, that fear, that distrust, that hurt...it makes them angry, it makes them want to make everyone else feel the same way they've been made to, or to take their anger out on the ones that do care about them."
"Like...like me," Max says, quietly. It's true, as much as it hurts to finally acknowledge it. Whatever the years of bullying and harassment did to him, it had never, ever made him kind. It had made him fantasize about slitting all of those bastards' throats and finally, it would be over. It made him feel sickly satisfied whenever he heard Butch's mom had gotten drunk and beaten him again, because that meant he was getting what he deserved. He'd just wanted revenge, he'd wanted control, the one thing he'd never felt he had.
And then he'd lost himself to the power he had over the only person he'd ever loved, resorted to hurting Charon just because he could,because it was something, someone that he could control.
He feels nauseous. God, no. He'd turned into fucking Butch, the bane of his entire existence in that vault, and made Charon his victim, made Gob his victim. "Oh, my God," he mumbles. "I'm...I'm them , aren't I? I'm a fuckin' piece of shit, I abused them, oh my God, I'm fucking Butch—"
"Max!" Nova says, holding her hands out in an attempt to relax him as he wheezes. "Hey. Hey. Look at me. Take a breath. You're not shit. You're not. You're angry. It's okay to be angry! You have every right in the world to be angry, Max. Just like Charon, just like Gob, just like me. We all have a right to be angry. But we have to learn to cope. We can't just take it out on each other, okay? Not on the people that care for us. That love us. That would never hurt us."
"I'm so sorry," Max sobs, looking up at her. "I'm so sorry. And sorry isn't enough! I can't do anything to make it better!"
"Come here," Nova says, and when he doesn't move, just curls into himself, she stands up, sits beside him, and scoops him up into her arms so gently that it makes him cry harder.
"Ssh, Max. Ssh. It's okay. You're okay. Just breathe. You're not beyond forgiveness, do you hear me? Apologies mean a lot, but you're right. They're not enough. You have to prove it. You have to prove you're going to be better. But you can be better. I know you can."
"I'm gonna fuck up," Max whispers, shaking his head and burying his face against her shoulder. "I know it. I always do. I'm angry all the time! I'll do something wrong. I can try, but I'll fuck it up. That's what I do."
"Then we need to find you another source for your anger that isn't a person," Nova says. "Or, that isn't a good person. Raiders, for example. Or hey, Jericho."
"But I'm not angry enough to kill. I just yell. I just yell and say awful things that I wish I could take back and I can't. I can't even remember half the time! I can't make it up to Charon, I can't make it up to Gob, I can't—" He chokes on his tears and starts to cough. "I couldn't—my dad—he's dead—dead, and I can't—"
"Ssh," Nova says again, patting his back until he catches his breath and then running her fingers through what little hair he has growing back. "I know. I know. And I'm sorry. It's always more than just anger. It's the sadness, too. It's everything that they did, that was done to you, crashing down on top of you, and you don't know what to do but lash out. It's okay. There's nothing wrong with being angry. You just have to learn how to control it, so it doesn't hurt others. Or find another outlet for those feelings."
"What, like...like a hobby?"
"Well, you tried drugs. Didn't work out so well, now, did it? Maybe you can try something else this time."
Max cries until he can't anymore, sagged against her in exhaustion as he sniffles and whimpers and then eventually is quiet.
Still petting his hair, Nova finally speaks again.
"The drugs never help for long, anyway. Back then, I'd still be there when I woke up. I'd still have to sleep with more men I didn't want to let near me. But I took them anyway, just for that little while of not knowing what was going on, of being able to pretend I didn't care who was in my bed, and or how Colin hurt Gob. Gobbie hated to see me like that...but I couldn't see him like that, bloody and bruised all the fuckin' time…knowing no matter what I did, I could only make it worse. If I tried to get the pig to stop, he did it for longer. If I tried to get him mad at me instead, he just beat Gob harder. I lost count of the times I thought he was gonna kill him, how many times he beat him into the floor and left me to carry him to bed, to try and stop the bleeding before he bled out right there in front of me. I tried...I tried to protect him, Max. But I couldn't do anything. Nothing but tend to him after and then drug myself into forgetting. That weakness, that feeling of...not being able to do anything…the guilt..."
She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, and then wipes tears from her eyes. "I know how it feels. But the drugs don't help. They just make it worse when you come to."
"I...I'm sorry," Max whispers. "I should have helped sooner...I should have killed him sooner…I knew it was bad, I should've—why didn't I just—?"
She places her hand on his shoulder, smiling gently. "It's over now. That's all that matters. We owe you for what you did. And you know what? Sometimes I still want to forget again. Sometimes I swipe a dose of something when no one's looking. But every single time, I come back from it and I feel worse. The disappointment in Gob's eyes...it's too much. And it's better now. We're free. I don't have to get high to feel better. I shouldn't, anyway. No drug lasts long enough to get away from life forever, Max. And if you try, it kills you.
"You know," she continues, "I knew a girl, once. Before I ended up here. She was from a town with a church set in those pre-war ways. She told me about all the stuff you learn. All the people that tell you how wrong you are, right? The vault was the same, wasn't it?"
Max shifts, pulls back and away from her to wrap his arms around himself and shake his head. He doesn't want to think about that. "I dunno. Yeah, I...I guess."
"They did. I know. She was beautiful, and she was sad. All she could tell me about was how wrong she felt, until one day...I kissed her. And then she told me anything that felt that right couldn't be wrong."
Max bites his lip and inhales slowly. He can't help but think of his and Charon's first real kiss, the feelings that had spiraled through his veins and left him breathless, how he had still wondered if it was as bad as he had always been told when it was so good. He hadn't known there were others like him, had never even considered it, especially before Charon.
"There was still the shame she felt," Nova goes on. "I helped as best I could, I loved her as much as she could handle, but it was ingrained. I know it is for you, too. That you're wrong. But you're not wrong, and neither was she. But she found out she liked getting high, she liked forgetting her past, she liked pretending, and I…" For the first time, Nova trails off, sounds as if she's on the verge of tears.
"I found her dead a few weeks later. Overdose. Easy as hell to do for someone who had no idea what she was doing, didn't know her limits, kept wanting to try to get a little higher."
"Oh, Nova...I'm...I'm so sorry," Max finally manages, laying his hand onto hers, and she smiles, squeezes it gently.
"It's life, right? No one survives. Some just make it a little longer than others. She had started to change, too, just like you did. Only back then, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't help. She just had me, and God, I was useless. But you have friends, Max. Friends who want you to get better, to stay better. One person who loved her wasn't enough for her. Is three enough for you?"
Max blinks hard, clearing his eyes of the tears that had gathered there and wiping them off his cheeks.
"I want it to be," he says, softly.
"If you really want it to be, then it will be," she says, stroking her finger down the back of his hand. "And...back on the topic of fate. Somehow, fifteen years later, you brought Charon back here, to Gob. Fifteen years later. They thought they would never see each other again, and yet..."
"But I want—wanted—Charon with me," he says, and he wishes she would stop bringing it up as if he will change his mind. "Don't you want Gob with you?"
"I do," she says, nodding. "Of course I do. And he is. I love him, and I know he loves me."
"But what if he really loves Charon? Wouldn't that hurt?"
"No," Nova says, "because he already does. He did before I met him."
"I knew it, I—" Max starts, bristling, and Nova makes a sharp gesture.
"Max, I knew it, too. You act like it's some sort of revelation. It's not."
"But—but aren't you mad?" Max asks, pulling back a little. "That's why I was mad! I am! What me and Charon had—"
"Gob and I didn't have to meet," she says. "We didn't have to like each other, or fall in love. But we did. And you didn't have to take Charon's contract, to lead him back here. But you did. And you didn't have to fall for him. He didn't have to, either. Two hundred years of abuse and you...you're the one that changed everything about him. You're not wrong, Max-y. You're not bad, no matter what they all told you. You love who you love, and that's just the point. All the things that had to happen, just exactly the way they did, for you two to meet, us two to meet, and them to meet again...I just don't think things like that can be just luck. I've never been a lucky person, but I've loved a lot of people. I might not believe in an all-mighty man in the sky, but I believe in Gob. I trust him. And if he says he has enough love in his heart for more than just me, then who am I to tell him that's not okay?"
"...His...his girlfriend," Max sputters in disbelief, and she chuckles.
"I'm not saying I would like him to love everyone like he loves me. But he wouldn't. It's a special love. But he has a lot of it. He has enough for more than one person."
"Well, Charon barely has any," he says, and then sags forward. "Which...he probably doesn't even wanna give to me anymore."
Nova hums, smiling, and tilts her head. "He might have more than you think," she says, and before he can respond that no, he really probably doesn't, the door opens and Gob walks in, stopping when he sees them, when he sees Max, wincing.
"I don't—" Max starts, his voice too loud, and Nova gently squeezes his arm. He takes a deep breath, huffs it out, and says instead, "We're talking, if that's okay. Please."
Gob glances between the two of them, startled, and then nods, slowly setting down a bag of food on the table. "O-okay. Okay."
"Thank you," Max manages, and Gob just stares, surprised he hadn't been screamed at and instead spoken to almost, almost gently, and Nova blows him a kiss and winks at him.
Immediately Gob relaxes, a little smile inching onto his lips, and he nods again as he steps out, closing the door.
Max blows out his breath and looks at Nova. "Was that okay?"
"We'll work on it," she says, cupping his cheek. "But it was a good start."
x
Max thinks about what Nova said over the next few days. She doesn't bring it up again, but then, she doesn't have to, and she probably knows that. She had said more than enough to keep Max's mind on it, on his recovery, and whether or not he can believe that a person can love more than just one other. That's not what he was told. He was told one woman, one man, forever, never anyone or anything else, but...but that was wrong, too. Nova can love a girl, and he can love a boy. He can love a ghoul. He does love a ghoul. His ghoul. His Charon.
If Charon even wanted to be his anymore.
It isn't better yet. Charon still won't really talk to him, and even a week later when Charon had seemed a little less tense, and he'd even cooked breakfast for them both, when Max had instinctively gone to hug him in thanks afterwards, Charon had flinched away so strongly that his back hit the wall, hard enough it knocked a can off one of the shelves.
"I-I'm sorry," Max had said with tears in his eyes, and though Charon didn't respond as he picked the can up and put it back, he had gently touched Max's arm as he passed.
Max had kept his hand on that spot while he tried to fall asleep, pretending it was still Charon's.
Ten days after their confrontation in the bedroom, Charon finally speaks an entire sentence to him, and it startles Max so much he nearly stumbles.
"You are...you are looking much better."
Before this, only short questions of how Max was feeling, or what Charon was doing, going out to smoke or for a walk or back to the bar. This...it almost sounds like he wants to talk, to keep taking, and Max tries not to start crying as he squeaks, "Th-thank you! I...I feel better. I've been...talking to Nova, you know, and stuff...she's...she says I'm doing better, too."
Charon nods, slowly. "You are...calmer, now."
"Uh-huh," Max says, guilty of letting a little bit of pride slip into his tone before he ducks his head. "Um...right? Yeah? I'm...better, right? To...to be around?"
"You have not yelled," Charon says, and he sounds so relieved; it makes Max so sad that Charon had ever had to wonder if the cruelty would stop. "Yes. It is...it is better."
Max dares to smile, steps half an inch closer. "Can...can we...do you think we can...talk?"
Charon doesn't move, hardly even looks at him. "Talk?"
"Yeah...I don't know...about...stuff. About you. How are you doing? How's, um…" He sighs. "How's Gob?"
Charon seems suddenly uncomfortable. "He is fine," he says. "I am alright."
"But you're not," Max says. "You're not. You're...you're still afraid, you're…you don't talk to me, you don't even sleep here, you—" He huffs, shaking his head, and tries to let that go for now. He had told Charon if he was more comfortable staying at the saloon, then he could. It's okay. He wants Charon to be happy. Even if it isn't with him.
"Can you just...sit?" he asks, making sure he doesn't tone it as an order as he motions towards the couch. "Please? Can we talk? Like...really, really talk?"
Slowly, Charon nods again, and sits down in the chair. Max half wonders if it's so Max doesn't even have the option of being close, forced to sit on the couch across from him, but he has to remind himself that that's okay. This is still a step forward. Nothing is going to be the same for a long, long time, maybe not ever, but it's a start. It's good.
Or...the concept was good, because the second he's faced with the reality of the situation Max feels his eyes stinging, and he's sure he's going to start choking on his tears far before he can get anything useful out of his stupid mouth.
He wrings his hands together in his lap, silent for a minute, and then finally gestures. "I'm, um...I'm sorry."
"I know," Charon says, and...that's it. Max waits for a bit, waits for anything else, and then frowns.
"Okay…I guess...um...okay," he says awkwardly. "I...I'd like you to tell me what else I can do, please. What else I can do to make it better."
"You are doing well," Charon says, calmly, and Max licks his lips.
"But...but couldn't I do better?"
Charon finally really looks at him, just as indifferent and expressionless as he was when they first met. It's frightening. He looks...empty. Cold. Hollow, because Max had given him so much, given him everything he had ever wanted, and then taken it away again, and Max will never forgive himself for it.
"You are doing well."
Max swallows, clearing his throat and trying to pull his thoughts together. "Thanks," he manages, and takes a breath. "Nova…well. We talk about a lot. She's real good at it. But y'know, I...I never asked, um...if you wanted to talk about what happened. Because talking is what you're supposed to do after bad things happen."
Still, Charon gives him nothing.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Charon says at length, and then grimaces, sinking back in the chair. "I...am not sure."
Okay, that's...very little, but something. He nods, agreeably, and tries not to sound pushy as he replies, "We can, if—when you want, okay? About...what happened with...me, or...the slavers, or at Paradise—"
"No," Charon interrupts, sternly shaking his head. Not that. Not Mercy, not Eulogy, not what they had done to him. Not that. And not about the woman he'd thought was dead, not about anything, please.
Max bites his lip as Charon reaches up to rub at his eyes; the look on Charon's face is enough to know he never should have brought it up again.
"Okay, sorry. You don't have to. I just...I know, um...I know I made you feel...alone. I know I left you there too long, I was...I was here doing drugs, and they were hurting you, and...and I called you a slave. I called you...I called you worse. I remember. But I don't think you're a slave, Charon. And I don't think you're...a cheater, or anything else. I know you're not. And I know I was wrong. I was wrong to take my anger out on you, and I was wrong to call you names, and I was wrong to hit you, and...and I don't think I can ever make it right, but...but I want to try. I want to try, and I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. And I always talked to you, so just know you can...if you want...talk to me about whatever you need to. Okay?"
Clearing his throat, Charon nods. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and then finally murmurs, "Thank you."
"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Max watches him for a moment, realizes how there's a noticeable tenseness in his muscles that wasn't there at the start, and then Max lifts a finger as if to say wait as he reaches over to the side table, holding out another, fuller pack of cigarettes. "I got...well, I asked Nova to go to Moira for me. For you."
Charon looks it over, then takes it and looks inside. A...a gift. For him? What has he done to deserve a gift? He glances up at Max again, hoping for an answer, and then realizes it's part of Max's apology, part of him trying to make Charon feel okay around him again.
It's bribery, it's not what Charon wants, but he's been chain-smoking like he hasn't in years, so he supposes just this time it can be accepted.
"Thank you," he says, nodding. "This is good. Thank you."
Max dares to give a little smile. "I'm...I know your armor got stolen, but…whenever you want, if you want, we can go down to Moira and get you more. And the Brotherhood, they might have even better stuff. If we go," he adds quickly. "You know. If you want. Later."
Charon tucks the cigarettes away in his pocket. It would be really nice to have armor again...he hates feeling this exposed. He hates the reminder of where his armor had gone, to Mercy and then to Eulogy, and although he has several layers on now, two shirts and a jacket with his pants, although he's entirely covered, the trauma of being stripped at the Falls and forced to stay that way for weeks has stuck with him, as expected. He can't stand anyone in the town even looking at him like this.
"I would like that," he says finally.
"R-really? Yeah?"
Charon nods, slowly, and grimaces. "I feel...unprotected as I am." That's all that really needs to be said, right? No need for anything else. He can move on, now. He can get some armor, he can cover himself up, he can shove it all away with everything else.
He had thought, at least. But when they finally get over to Moira's, and she tries to wrap her measuring rope around him, he lets out some noise in his throat and backs away.
"Charon?" Max asks, quietly, and Charon shakes his head, reaches up to touch his neck, wheezing a breath in like something is around it—
Max snatches the rope away from Moira and throws it behind the counter, his eyes wide. "You can't use that—don't let him see that!"
She steps back, confused, as her own bodyguard comes a little closer and glares at them. "Max-y...I thought you wanted me to—"
"You gotta have something else, right? Something else to use?"
"I don't know what you—"
"No, no, you gotta...just...Charon," he says, gently taking Charon's hand away from his neck, and Charon surprisingly doesn't pull away, just looks at him, wary.
"Come here, come here." He leads Charon through the hall to the staircase, away from the other two. "It's okay."
Charon takes a deep breath and sits on the steps. "I am sorry."
"No, no, don't say that. I saw...I saw why, I...it's not your fault, okay? Shit. I didn't know she would...damn. How...how can we do this? We can just...you can just try on what she has, right? Is that okay? That way she wouldn't have to touch you or use that or anything."
Charon looks up at him, doesn't say anything, and Max tilts his head. "What?"
The corner of Charon's mouth twitches upwards for just a second, so fast Max nearly misses it, and he asks again, more desperately,"What?"
He doesn't know if Max would remember, but, strangely enough, he does; only now, only after being reminded, he remembers his panic getting armor in Rivet City, back in the very beginning, how much he hadn't wanted to be touched by that man, either, and how Max's response hadn't been to take him away, to let him recover, to ask what he wanted to do about it. It had been to order him to stay still, and then forget he had done so.
Maybe...
"I am grateful," he finally manages, only when the contact makes him speak. "It would be...acceptable, for me to try them on."
Max smiles a little. "Okay. Yeah?"
Maybe...
Charon nods, standing up after another minute, and follows Max back out to rejoin Moira.
x
He's lived with the inevitability of repetition his entire life, and so Charon waits. He waits for the temper loss, he waits for another blow, he waits for something bad to happen, because it always, always has, and this time hasn't yet proven to be any different. He doesn't know if it will ever be able to.
He waits, but Max doesn't lose his temper. The boy suffers a few episodes of desperate cravings for the Med-X he'd given up, pacing back and forth around Megaton's catwalks and muttering to himself, or going to talk to Nova, but never once does he strike out, with fists or words, towards anybody else.
Charon still waits, even as he grows a little closer, so disgustingly desperate and weak and needy. He doesn't want to be close again. That can't be what he wants. Not so soon, maybe not ever.
Except he's staring at Max's hand one night while they're silently having dinner a week or so later, and he wants to reach for it, and it pisses him off. He foolishly, childishly, knocks his glass over, just to see what will happen, to see what Max will do, to prove to himself how temporary this all is, but he only receives a confused stare in response.
"Um…" Max says, very slowly. "Are you okay?"
"I do not know," Charon says, surprisingly honest, and grabs a cloth to wipe the mess up. "I apologize."
"Are you mad…?" Max asks, voice low. "I broke stuff when I was mad. I broke you."
"No," he says, and then sighs, shifts himself back up onto the chair, suddenly hardly strong enough to even do that.
"I made you feel like shit," Max says. "But first I made you feel good. So it was a hundred times worse when I made you feel bad."
"Yes," Charon agrees, very quietly, "but you are recovering, and so am I."
"That doesn't mean I'm fixing it."
Charon sighs again, rests his chin in his hand.
"But I'm trying. You know that, right? You know I'm trying, right? You see that?" He chokes a bit, taking a drink of water.
"I see you," Charon says with a nod. "I do."
"Even if...even if we never...even if it's never the same, I promise. I'll never hurt you again."
Charon closes his eyes, steadying himself, and then opens them fully, looking into Max's with such severity that Max's entire body reacts, his muscles stiffening, his nails digging at the table.
"Do not make promises you cannot keep," Charon says, but it's more of a plea than anything else.
Max doesn't flinch. "I can keep it," he replies. "I can. And I will. You'll see. I'll never break another promise to you again. And that's a promise, too. Just wait."
Could be lies. Could be the truth. It's hard to know for sure, but he hopes that, maybe, he won't have to wait much longer.
x
Another week and a half passes before Charon feels comfortable enough to stay the night, and in the morning Max is surprised to find him sound asleep on the couch, his armor set on the floor below as it had been the very first time they'd come here after Vault 112, after Evergreen Mills.
He touches his neck, runs a finger over the scar there. He could have died, but Charon had made sure he didn't. He could have died somany times over the past months, but Charon had never allowed it. And then the one time Charon had been unable to protect him, after every time he had, when it was Max's own goddamn fault...Max had held it against him, had let him stay and be hurt at Paradise Falls for a month.
He sits down on the table beside the couch, sighing, and looks Charon over. He looks...okay, Max decides, but not good. Still not as healthy as he had been before, in those few months between what had happened with the Outcasts and going back to Rivet City.
They had been so happy. So fucking happy. Happy and together.
He wishes he'd never gone. He wishes he'd let his father and those stupid scientists do whatever they wanted by themselves, and instead kept Charon here, safe, in his arms. Nothing bad would have happened. They could have just stayed. They could have been okay. They could have been good.
Maybe it was just fate that things didn't turn out that way.
When the sun is up he fixes breakfast for them both, setting a plate on the table and watching Charon slowly stir himself awake at the smell, missing the mornings he had seen it right next to him.
Charon sits up, rubbing his eyes, and then looks from the plate to Max and back again.
"Thank you," he says, and Max nods, otherwise quiet as they eat.
"Can I see your back?" Max finally asks after a long while of silence, and Charon goes rigid, grabbing tightly onto his shirt.
"My…"
Max touches a curled finger an inch or so to the right of his mouth, and Charon supposes that's about where the whip had left its mark on his own cheek. He hasn't dared to look in a mirror yet, nor does he think he will anytime soon.
"What they did. I want…"
Charon breathes out harshly. He really wishes he hadn't just ate, because his stomach twists and threatens to get rid of it all. "It would be unnecessary."
Max only watches him, his eyes half-lidded and so, so sad. He works his jaw for a minute, swallows hard, and then murmurs, "Let me see."
As expected. Charon closes his eyes, tilts his chin down, and pulls his shirt off. He can feel Max's eyes on him even before he turns himself to the side; he doesn't expect Max remembered the new scarring ran onto his chest, too. He hears Max's breath quicken and tremble, and when he finally opens his eyes again, Max's gaze is down on his lap.
"They do not hurt anymore," he offers.
Max takes their plates, puts them in the sink, climbs the stairs to lock himself in the bathroom, and retches until nothing else comes up.
Charon thinks maybe he should feel something like satisfaction when he hears, would have with any other employer feeling bad enough for him that they were sick over it, something he would never have imagined. But Max isn't any other employer, and Charon doesn't feel that at all.
He just feels sad.
x
Max puts Charon's contract in a locked box under a loose floorboard behind the stove, threads a string through the top of the key, and personally hands it to Gob.
"If anything happens to me," he says, slowly, "I want you to take it. Okay?"
It's the first time they've really spoken since what happened. Gob looks a little stricken, and very pale, but he swallows the lump in his throat and nods, knotting the string around his neck and tucking the key into his shirt. "Okay. Y-yes."
Max sighs, tiredly, and then reaches up to put his hand on Gob's shoulder. "Thanks," he says, patting him softly, and Gob blinks hard, startled.
"Thanks," he echoes, awkwardly, and then shakes himself. "I-I mean...y-you're welcome, of course, I...are you leaving?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
Gob tries not to flinch, but he's never really done a good job of that. "Y-yeah…"
"Do you care about me?"
Gob looks at him with wide eyes. "Of course I do," he says, and Max looks down at his feet.
"I hit you."
"You weren't yourself," Gob says, softly. "I'd be lying if I said Nova hasn't done it before, when she used to get so strung out she didn't remember her own name."
"You can hit me back," he murmurs, wincing like he expects it, and Gob actually chuckles at that.
"I think the withdrawal put you through enough, right?" he asks, and puts his hand over Max's, cautiously.
"I'd be your friend, if you'd let me," he says, and Max breathes out, doesn't pull away like Gob had expected.
"You love Charon," he says at last, and Gob pulls his hand back.
"I'm...I'm sorry…we never—nothing ever—he's been in the other bedroom, we haven't—"
Max shuffles his feet, awkwardly. "He loves you, too, I think."
Gob is pretty sure his heart stops for a second, and it knocks the breath out of his lungs, leaves him feeling weakened. "I-I—I don't—he—um—"
Max makes a small gesture with his hand, and Gob doesn't know what it means, but he shuts up anyways.
"I'd like to be friends," Max says. "But I don't think I'm okay with that yet."
Yet? That sounded almost as if...almost as if Max might, one day…
Gob nods, slowly. "O-okay. That's...that's fine, right? It's…"
"I should've never left you with Moriarty that long," Max interrupts. "I should have never hit you. I should have never treated you like that fucker did."
"Oh, kid...you're nothing like him. Not even then."
Max looks up at him, wearily. "Nova told me you have nightmares. Sometimes you can't sleep at all."
Gob winces, fidgeting, and mumbles out some vague confirmation, and then Max does something Gob would never in his entire life expected.
He reaches out and takes Gob's hand.
"Charon...has them, too," he continues. "I get them, about Anchorage...but it was fake wasn't it? I don't think it's the same."
"I was wrong to say it wasn't," Gob says. "I'm sorry."
Max winces a little, rubs at his head like maybe it hurts, and then moves on. This isn't about him. It just isn't. It's about Charon. "He—he still won't...talk to me. I don't know if he can't, or he just doesn't trust me enough, or…" He sighs. "Maybe it's what I did. I don't know. But if...if maybe you could talk to him? About what happened there, and...and even before, with the Outcasts...they had him solong...I don't...I don't want him to have to keep it in. And if he can talk to you...then...then that's okay. I want you to talk. I want someone to be there for him. Because...because I think, maybe, it never should have been me who tried to save him. I did a real, real shit job at it. But you…"
"Max…" Gob says, shaking his head. "Charon loves you."
Max stiffens, and his eyes widen, and he stares at Gob like Gob had just hit him back. "Wh-what? Did he—he say—?"
"No, but—but he doesn't have to. The way he looks at you, the way he talks about you...you scared the shit out of him, how you were, and that was why it hurt so much. Because he loves you."
"He...does?"
"Yeah. We all care for you, Max. I hope...maybe we can all put all the bad behind us, now."
"I'd like that," Max says, and it sounds like a relief. To be forgiven? To move on? Maybe...if he proves himself enough...but he doubts Charon ever will agree, and he doubts he will ever deserve it.
Gob smiles. "Me too, kid." And he goes behind the counter, grabs a Nuka-Cola, and pops the lid, handing it to Max. "Free of charge."
"I have to give up drinking, too?" With a sigh, Max takes a drink. "I'll try."
"You weren't a mean drunk, at least," Gob says, wiping down a glass. Unlike before, with Moriarty always lurking around the corner, his hands aren't shaking. "I think…I think eventually, maybe, we can all be okay again. Maybe. Right?"
Max smiles sadly and nods. "I know I have a lot to do. A lot to prove. And I plan to." He takes a drink, hesitates, and adds, "But I'm headin' out to the Brotherhood in the morning."
Gob inhales deeply. "You sure you're ready for that? It's only been a month..."
"No," Max says. "But I have to. It's time. It's long past time. God, it's months past time. I've been avoidin' it like everything else. I can't avoid things anymore."
"You...you know you don't owe this wasteland anything, right?"
"My parents died for this. Charon's been hurt for this. I have to finish what they started. I have to. For this town, for...everyone I love." There's a terribly dark undertone to his voice, and the key suddenly makes sense; he doesn't think he'll be returning.
"Please keep safe," Gob says anyway, clutching the key under his shirt, and Max gives another smile, nods, and glances up towards the setting sun before walking off down the catwalk.
x
"No."
"It's...it's not up for debate. I'm sorry."
Charon seethes, paces back and forth in front of the couch, and then sits down, clasping his hands together in front of his mouth.
"I'm sorry," Max says again, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I told you. I won't let you get hurt again. And this...this...the Enclave...even the Brotherhood...whatever the fuck I'm gonna have to do…it could hurt you."
"Hurt me," Charon scoffs. "Hurt me? What could possibly happen to me that hasn't already? Two hundred years and here I am. I survive."
"That's not the point, Charon. I want you to stop getting hurt at all! I want to know you're safe, and here, away from anybody who can hurt you!"
"No. You cannot protect me from everything. You cannot protect me from me. I have hurt myself as much as anyone."
"I can try," Max replies simply, heading towards the stairs, and Charon, against all better judgement, blocks Max's way when he tries to climb them.
Max shudders, but when their eyes meet, Charon doesn't find any anger. He can't really read the boy at all, and it bothers him, makeshim angry.
"Not after everything," Charon says. "Not after what we have done. What you have done." He lowers his voice and looks away. "...What I have done."
"It's too dangerous. I don't...I don't know what's going to happen."
"You will not do this to me. You will not. You will not."
"I have to!" Max comes closer, reaching out for Charon's hand. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry," Charon echoes, and he jerks away. "You are sorry?"
Max looks heartbroken, and it only makes Charon angrier.
"It's—it's for your own safety! Okay? So—so you're gonna have to just—just—accept it!"
Charon is utterly incredulous. "My safety! Max, I am already in pieces. I cannot be protected, most certainly not by you! And I do not want you to! This is my job. My contract. My job! Protection! How can I possibly protect you if I am stuck here?"
"You just…won't," Max says, biting his lip. "You just can't this time. If I—if I have to order you to stay, that's—that's what I'll do. That's what you're gonna make me do, isn't it? You can't just stay safe, can you?"
Charon pulls back even further. "Max. You cannot do that. If I am away from the holder of my contract for too long, my head aches, Max—it aches and it does not stop until I am beside them again."
"Then..." He takes a deep breath. "Then I'll give it to Nova and Gob. That's what I should have done in the first place, it's—"
Charon growls, shoving Max so hard he nearly falls and then grabbing him again by the shoulders. "You stupid child. You stupid, idiotic brat of a boy. After it all, you would give me away now?"
"That's not what I meant," Max says, "I'm not giving you away! I just—I locked the paper up, and there's a key, and I gave it to Gob! But if I come back, I would—"
Charon bares his teeth. "Bastard," he hisses, and pins him against the wall with a hand settled around his neck. "If you come back? You do not plan to, do you?"
Max can only whimper and let himself go limp. The grip isn't choking him, but it's heavy enough to feel, and he finds he has trouble breathing all the same. "No," he wheezes, "I-I don't know. But maybe not for a long, long time, and I wanted you to have someone, a back-up, who would treat you right, treat you better than I ever—"
Charon growls, and the sound alone cuts Max off. "Your self-pity is infuriating," Charon says. "You know what I felt for you. How much I felt for you. Stop acting as if it did not happen!"
"I—I didn't know if it mattered anymore," Max replies as tears start falling down his cheeks. "You should want the break! Time to be alone! You didn't...even talk to me for s-so long, I...I thought..."
"I was afraid of you, Max!"
Max sobs softly, closing his eyes. "I know. I know. And I don't—I don't know what—hurt me."
Charon winces at the pain the order he can't follow sends up the back of his head, and then, confused, manages, "What?"
"Please. I know you want to. I allow it. Fuck the rules. Just...please."
"I want to," Charon says, even as the contract punishes him for it with another, far sharper bolt of pain. "For what you've done. For you to even suggest leaving me here, after everything, after you already left me, I want to hurt you."
"Then do! You can!"
"I cannot," he grunts, shaking his head again to try and rid it of the ache. "I will not. But Max—Max—you are everything to me, and you will not leave me again."
Max stares up at him, eyes wide. "What?"
"I want you to—" Charon cuts off, chokes, and then suddenly he's backing away, leaving Max gasping for air.
"I want you. You—you are—you are the only— " His legs feel weak, and he sits down right where he is, leaning over himself and burying his face in his hands. How could he ever explain what he still doesn't even understand? How could he ever possibly admit that, after being broken down and then built up into the exact mindless nothing that those people had wanted him to be, after two hundred years of perfecting the art of indifference, holding every emotion he could inside and locking it away where it could no longer hurt him—that he—that he lo—
No, he can't feel that, he isn't capable of it. He's not even human. He's a goddamn machine, a weapon, a machine, a weapon, he's not human, he can't fucking love—
"Charon…" Max says after a minute, and Charon sobs.
"Please do not leave me again," he whispers, and Max sits beside him.
"Can I…?" he asks, holding out his arms, and Charon hates how quickly he leans over, how he doesn't push Max away as Max folds his arms around him, and…
Max. Max. He'd thought Max was dead. He'd thought Max would never be himself again, that he would never touch Charon with the intent to comfort again, that Charon would be with him but once again alone, and now…
And now he's here again, right at Charon's side, and as much as Charon fucking hates him, wants to never trust him again, wants to shove him away and run, he still whimpers and curls into the warmth and grabs onto Max's arms like he's the only thing that matters because he ridiculously fucking is.
"Okay," Max says, "Okay. We'll go together. Okay? We'll go together. I won't leave you. I won't ever do that again, Charon. I'm so sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry. I love you. I love you so fuckin' much. Okay? I love you. We'll go together. Okay?"
"Okay," Charon finally responds, huffing out a harsh breath.
"I'm so sorry. I promise. I promise I'll never hurt you again. I want you to trust me again. I want you to feel for me again. I don't know if you can, but—"
Charon moves his head just enough to press his lips to Max's temple, closing his eyes. So soft, so soft, Max is so soft, he'd missed Max so much he can hardly breathe. "Okay."
"I just need one more chance," Max whispers. "Just one. I promise. Let me make it better. Please."
Charon nods slowly, shakily. "I want to trust you. But..."
"I know. I know. We don't have to be what we were. But I'll be so good to you. I'll never hurt you again. I didn't know it would hurt you to stay...so you'll come with me. I don't want you to hurt, Charon. Just... please...just a second chance. Please."
And so stupidly, Charon nods again. He knows he shouldn't. Nothing has ever, ever worked out in his favor before; why would it now? Why should it? Why would he ever give himself over to be hurt again? How stupid is he, falling for it again? He can't love Max. He hates Max, he needs to move away, he needs to stop this, he needs to never feel anything ever again, because it never does anything but ruin him.
And yet…
"You will not get a third," he manages to say, and tries to convince himself that it's true, that he wouldn't give Max a hundred more if he thought it would get him just one more second of being held like this, and Max breathes out.
"I won't need one. I swear. And...and as soon as this is over...we'll go to the Temple, we'll get your contract voided, whatever I have to do, and you'll be free. I promise. I'll make you free. That's why we met, okay? I'll be the one to do it. Okay?"
If only…
"If I have to die for you," Max says, cupping Charon's cheek and pulling back, meeting their eyes. "I will. I'll do it. If it comes to that. Whatever I have to do for you. Do you hear me? I would die for you, Charon. I love you."
Charon winces, gently leaning to touch their foreheads together, and nods again. And when Max offers after a long few minutes, he takes Max's hand and allows himself to be led upstairs.
"I'll sleep on the couch, if you want," Max says, layering blankets over Charon as he curls onto his side, and Charon shakes his head.
"No," he says, closing his eyes. He thinks for a minute, struggling, and then adds, "Stay."
"Are...are you sure?"
"Stay."
Max nods, slowly laying down, taking up as little room as he can.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs after a while, when he's certain Charon has already fallen asleep.
But after a moment, Charon reaches back to briefly take his hand, squeezing it once before letting go again, and Max manages to go the first night in a long time without crying himself to sleep.
x
"This is gonna be dangerous," Max says.
Charon takes a deep breath of early morning air, and slowly pushes it out. "It is."
"It's…" He pauses, shifting uncomfortably as the gates to Megaton creak open, glancing behind them. "It might...you know we might die."
"We might."
Max gently bumps his elbow to Charon's arm, does his best to touch without really getting too close, and gestures backwards with his head. "And you still really want to come?"
Charon looks down at him, and then turns enough to see Gob and Nova watching them from one of the catwalk suspensions. Gob waves his hand, just a little, and Charon hesitantly does it back.
"I do," Charon says, and brushes his fingers against Max's as he places his hand back at his side.
He's not ready, and Max knows it. Maybe he won't ever be. But here they are again, traveling together, and it's a relief, a distraction, to slip back into the routine.
Max smiles, sadly, and finally looks up at him. He nods, and takes a deep breath.
And they walk.
x
"Three-Dog here again, kiddies, and I've gotten some news. The waitin' is over. I ain't gonna say much, because I know they're listenin' in. And I'm a little afraid to jinx it. Maybe it's not what I've been told. But I got a good feelin' this time that somethin' might work out for this little old wasteland real soon. Stay aware, stay safe. Maybe you won't have to much longer. Until then, this has been Three-Dog, bringin' you the truth no matter how bad it hurts. And now, some music…"