AN: Sorry that it's been a few days. I had a hard time deciding what scenes would be in this chapter.

Rated M for gratuitous profanity, violence, and ghoul sex.

The Fallout universe rights are currently owned by Bethesda Studios. I receive no money for this. It is merely a creative outlet, dream space, respite from the real world, and something to tide me over until Fallout 4 is released.


Chapter Forty Eight: Restore Our Fortunes

When they returned to the bar, Nova was squatted down beside the blood splatter. Much to Charon's surprise, a large pile of rags was waiting on the bar.

"Is Jericho dead?"

"Not yet, but that changes the minute he does something stupid," Charon said as he began stripping off weapons.

"I cleaned out Colin's room. Well, except for a cabinet that I can't get into. I cleaned out part of his office too, but some shit is locked up in there as well."

"Did you find anything useful?"

"Everything is on the bar, but don't expect much"

A pile of caps. Maybe 100 or so. Ammo and a pistol.

Gob snorted. "That can't be it. I sling way too many fucking drinks every night for that to be it."

"How do you think I feel?"

"Oh. Sorry, Nova. I didn't mean—"

"I know, Gob. I know."

Charon collected the bottles of water into one bowl, stuffed rags and the detergent into another one, and carried both of them to the stain. Nova moved out of his way, and he knelt down in her place. He dumped the detergent into one of the bowls and eyeballed the amount of water until he had the perfect ratio.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Gob asked.

"Had to learn how to clean up after myself. Occasionally, that sort of thing matters."

Gob cleared his throat and looked at Nova. "Hey, uh, Charon said that we own this place now."

"Huh. I guess it is. Crazy."

"So you can stop working—um—the way you have been unless, you know, you want to."

Nova leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "I figured I'd always have to sell it. It's good money—well, if you don't take Moriarty's cut."

Gob crossed his arms and fixed his eyes on the ground. "Why would I do that? Do you think I'm just as much of an asshole as him?"

Nova sighed and rubbed her face. "Shit, Gob. You know that's not what I meant. I'm exhausted. I just want to go to sleep. We can talk about it later."

"Yeah. Fine."

"Are we going to open tonight?"

"If we finish cleaning this place up. Shit. I don't even know what I would do with a night off."

Nova covered her mouth and let out a huge yawn. "Okay. Well, let me know. I'll help when I get up. I'm not doing a damned thing now."

Charon looked up from the stain. "Do you have anything that Kate could wear?"

Nova snorted. "What do you want to see her in? I've got every outfit a guy could ask for."

"Uh. The doctor just said to bring her something else since what she was wearing was ruined."

Nova grinned mischievously. "If you want to go up there and pick something out yourself, I won't bother you, big fella."

Charon grunted and refocused on the stain. He dipped a rag into the cleaning solution on it and squeezed it onto the floor. "Thank you for the offer, but she needs something practical. Something she can be seen in outside."

Nova snorted. "Not everything I have is short and see-through, asshole. I'm not always on my back in here. But I don't have anything with pants. Oh, except for the vault suit."

"Why do you have a vault suit?"

"Someone—and I'm not going to say who because he's a nice guy—picked up one of the ones she sold to Moira. A lot of guys have been requesting it."

"I did not need to know that."

Nova shrugged. "You asked why I had one. Wasn't my idea. I didn't know how good it would be for business."

He liked Kate's vault suit. Of course, it was the only thing he had seen her in besides her tank top and—. No. He wasn't going to let his mind wander there. Anything that Nova had would be slutty by comparison to the body-covering jumpsuit. While it would be thrilling to see Kate in something other than the vault suit, he just wanted her to be comfortable. No. Scratch that. He just wanted to see her alive.

"Is the vault suit gross?"

"Uh. It's been a few times since I washed it last, but it shouldn't be too bad."

Charon's skin crawled. "Then bring me the suit and whichever dress you have that is the most modest and recently cleaned. She can decide."

"Just make sure she brings them back."

"She will."

Nova sighed and stepped past Charon and onto the stairs. "Okay, but this is it. I'm going to bed after this."

"You two still need to get your stories straight. I do not want Kate getting kicked out of here or worse because she did you two a favor."

"She did you a favor too," Gob said.

"I didn't get a bar out of it."

Nova stopped halfway up the stairs. "What story? Everyone saw your little spat with Moriarty and how pissed off he was afterwards. Show him the computer. That's all the proof he needs, you know, if he actually gives a shit in the first place. Kate saw it, confronted Moriarty, and things got out of hand."

"What about the part where I helped?"

"No offense, sweetie, but no one is going to believe that."

Gob watched Nova disappear into her room, and then he hung his head.

"They might one day," Charon muttered.

"Thanks, Charon. You being nice is kind of weird."

"Would you prefer that I go back to being a dick?"

"No. I said 'weird,' not 'bad.'"

Nova appeared at the bannister with an armful of clothes. "Gob ,catch." Gob reached up for the clothes as she arced them at him one by one. "Okay. Don't wake me up anymore. Night, fellas."

"Good night, Nova," Gob said wistfully, watching her disappear behind her door. When it was closed, he brought the clothes to his nose and inhaled.

"Gross. I don't need to see that," Charon muttered.

"What? They smell like her—not like that." Gob rearranged the clothes in his arms. "Or, maybe—"

"Hey! Kate's got to wear those."

"I was just helping you figure out how gross they were."

"Then use your eyes, asshole. How stained are they?"

Gob draped the dress over a stool and inspected the vault suit. "You and Nova might have different definitions of gross."

"How is the dress?"

Gob exchanged the clothes. "I think it's okay."

Charon glanced up. "Let me see it." Gob held up the dress. The blue dress had a high neck, medium-long sleeves, and a conservative length. "Yeah. Good enough."

Gob put the dress on the bar. "Do you want the jumpsuit too, just in case?"

"No. She can get used to the dress and thank me later."

"Uh, is there anything else you need me to do?"

Charon shrugged. "I've got this."

"Okay. If you say so." Gob swung his arms as he looked around the room. When he saw the cash register, he walked behind the bar. He punched the button, and the lip of the drawer creaked out a reluctant centimeter. "First fucking thing I'm replacing in here is this godforsaken register," he grumbled, sliding his fingers and thumbs around the drawer. After a lot of shaking, the drawer came free. He poked around until he found what he was looking for. "Hey, Charon?"

Charon acknowledged him with a grunt.

Gob scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Can you look at me for just a second?" Charon indulged him. Gob held up a key. "I'm putting this on the dress. It's one of the spare keys to the bar. Give it to Kate. Come in whenever you need to. For a drink or a place to stay or whatever."

Charon nodded slowly. "Thanks, Gob."

Gob shoved the register closed. "Don't mention it. If there's nothing else for me to do, I'm going to bed."

Charon made a point to ignore how he was trying to hide the jumpsuit behind his back. "Yeah. See you. I'll lock up behind me."

"Yeah, well. Night."

"Night."

Charon worked on the stain until he was satisfied that it wasn't showing any more. He shoved everything out of the path of the stairs and stood. Between the armor and the time spent hunched over, his back despised him. He picked up the duffle bag and worked the energy rifle back into it. He shoved the key to the bar into his pocket and stuffed the dress into the bag. He took another look around the bar and the office to be certain that he hadn't missed anything else of hers. After all, guarding her meant guarding her stuff. When he was satisfied, he locked the door to the bar behind him and made his way back to the clinic. When he pushed open clinic door, questions about her were already dangling from his lips.

"Go away!"

Charon groaned and shut the door behind him. "I brought her clothes."

"Then leave them out there and go."

Charon pulled out the dress and lay it on the table. "How is she?"

"I already told you. If she was dead, I would be sleeping. Quit bothering me, zombie."

Charon crushed his futile anger in his fist. "I shall be outside."

"Find someone who cares."

He stepped back out of the clinic and only barely restrained himself from slamming the door. He was a dangerous man when he was infuriated, but intimidating the man would only keep Kate from getting the care that she needed. He slumped down in front of the clinic, pulled his shotgun onto his lap, and tried to pretend that this was any other guard duty.

He tried to avoid looking at people, but some people just stared too damned long that the only practical thing to do was to glare back so hard that they could see their own death in his eyes. In addition to making them look away, it usually also made them go away. Except for Kate's aptly-named Church of Atom crazies.

The man standing by the bomb would not shut up. Religion hadn't been part of Charon's training, and so when he encountered it, it always felt like a weird, annoying itch. He wrote off most believers as stupid, but this guy and his deluded disciples were all bat-shit insane. He thought he was unlucky when he couldn't tune out the whacked out preacher, but then the man caught sight of him.

"What's this?" the man asked, wading out of the water. "Children, rejoice! Yea, for a new prophet of Atom walks among us!" He and his meager flock stood in front of the clinic staring up at Charon.

Charon kept his gaze focused on his shotgun. No wonder why Kate had wanted to disarm that bomb. These crazy fucks were all too eager to blow it up. Unless ground-trapped bombs proved to be unworthy of deification unlike their air-falling brothers.

"Come, oh worthy prophet of Atom! We are your children! Charge us with your sacred wisdom that we may radiate as strongly as you in The Glow!" the preacher beseeched. Beseeched was the only word to describe it.

Charon didn't look at him. He was afraid that this would be another problem that he couldn't growl away. Acknowledging them could only be a fatal mistake. Kate aside—since she was ever the exception—he never received positive attention, much less worship. It was as maddening as it was disorienting. These fuckers actually wanted—wanted to be ghouls or dead. Both were positives to them. They had no fucking clue. Charon crunched the shotgun in his hands.

The preacher turned back to his crowd. "Behold! The prophet has spoken!" Charon blinked. The man worshipped a bomb. Why wouldn't he be schizophrenic? "Brothers! Sisters! To be closer to The Glow, we must silence ourselves and look to find the Atom within! Thank you for your wisdom, oh holy brother! Thank you, Atom, for sending this divine messenger our way! Praise Atom!"

His followers murmured in approval. How wise! How true! How enlightening!

The group wandered back to the bomb. "Come, children! Let us take of the sacred waters and contemplate the Atom that resides within us all!" the preacher proclaimed. They stooped to drink their dirty, irradiated water and then stood in silence.

Holy shit. It had actually worked. He savored the silence while he had it. Guys like that never shut up for long. For a while, it was just the occasional moo of the brahmin and the clinking of its bell.

The sun was directly overhead when the door of the clinic finally opened behind him. Doc Church leaned in the doorframe and took a swig of a beer. Charon scowled at him.

"She's fixed or close enough."

"What do you mean 'close enough?'"

"I mean she needs some damned time to heal. If you're so worried about her, you need to keep her from running around trying to get herself shot."

The same advice from Doctor Li that he had ignored. He hoped that he wouldn't have to fight her about it. "Can I see her now?" Finally?

"Well, I was hoping that you'd move her damned ass to one of my cots, strong man."

His back was already protesting. "Yeah."

Doc Church took another swig and stepped back into the clinic. "Come on."

Charon set the bag inside and followed Doc Church, unable to quell his mounting anxiety. She was in the blue dress, resting peacefully.

"Go on. She's all yours."

Charon chuckled. Had the man even realized what he had said? Another man speaking one of his deepest desires.

"You'll want to be careful with her since both sides of her are all torn up. If you make me have to rebandage everything again, it'll cost double."

Charon cringed. "When does Kate normally pay you?"

"Don't you dare tell me that you don't have any money."

"Kate keeps the caps, but I don't know where her stuff is."

"Well as soon as she's on her feet, you better bring those damned caps back in a hurry or I will make sure that her arms match down to the last cut and the last bullet hole."

"Yeah."

"You'd better. And don't wake my ass up again unless she stops breathing or starts coughing up blood or something bad like that. Otherwise, my fee goes up even higher."

"I won't." Charon studied her. She treated him different from all the others, so he should stop being surprised that she was the exception. He hadn't given a fuck about the comfort of previous employers when they had gotten hurt. He just got them out of the way. He frowned and began gathering her into his arms.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Hey."

"Hey," he breathed. The weight fell from his chest. "How are you doing, kid?"

She tried to shrug but yelped, cringing in pain. "Fuck. Not great evidently."

"You two can play catch-up later. Would you please just get her off of my table so that I can go the fuck back to sleep?"

"Mmm. Sleep," Kate murmured, closing her eyes.

Charon was relieved to see her sleepy smile. It felt like ages since he had seen her smile. He followed Church into a room full of beds.

"Just drop her in one. They're all the same."

Charon took his time lowering her onto the bed. She moaned when her arms were moved. He withdrew his arms slowly once she was settled. "You okay, Kate?"

"I want a pillow."

Doc Church scoffed. "Make do." He looked at Charon. "Come on, zombie. You and I've got things to do."

"Not a zombie. My companion."

"Well then, tell your companion to get his ass out here."

Charon touched her cheek. "It's good to see you, gorgeous."

"I missed you."

Charon chuckled. "Yeah. You mentioned that." Doc Church cleared his throat. Charon pressed a soft, grateful kiss to her lips. "Get some rest. I'll be back."

Kate frowned. "You're not leaving me again, are you?"

"Only as far as the next room. I promise."

The tension faded from her face. "You better be here when I wake up."

"Always." He stood up, reluctantly pulling back his hand from her cheek. Doc Church looked like he was going to throw up. "What do you need?"

Doc Church nodded his head towards the other room. Charon's gaze lingered on her until he was able to force himself to follow the doctor and close the door.

Doc Church pointed at the floor. "There's her stuff. Don't bother checking for caps. I already did. Tools are in there too, so be careful. Apparently, she didn't feel torn up enough, so she was trying to stab herself with them."

Charon gathered it up. "How much do we owe you?"

"150 caps and blood."

Charon blinked. "Blood?"

"Yes. Like I said, she's been tearing through my supply."

Charon held his arm out. "You can take mine. I do not think that you will have a problem finding a suitable vein."

Doc Church snorted. "You don't know a goddamned thing about blood, do you? She's been lucky so far. There are different blood types, and if she gets one that doesn't match hers, bad shit happens. Ghoul blood would probably kill her outright. No telling what kind of shit is in it."

Charon pulled back his arm. "What do you propose?"

"That she donate some of her own in a month or two. If she can keep it inside her for that long."

"Won't that hurt her?"

"It's a needle. If she can handle bullets, she can handle a damned needle. And if she can get her hands on any more blood packs, she needs to bring them to me if she wants my ass to keep patching hers up."

"I will inform her of this."

"Damned right you will, zombie. 150 caps by sundown tomorrow."

Charon waited. "Or else?"

"Or else one of you is going to be paying some other way."

"What does that even mean?"

"Don't find out."

Charon scowled. "I have already said that it would be taken care of. It is not wise to threaten me."

"And it is not wise to wake my ass up at even the damned sun's still tired o'clock."

"It will be handled."

"Better be."

"Is that all?"

Doc Church snorted. "Isn't that enough? I've still got all this shit to clean up, so if you'll excuse me, leave me the fuck alone."

"Thank you for saving her."

"Don't thank me. Just leave me alone."

Charon swung the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulder. As it cut into his back, he gritted his teeth. He thought that perhaps he should get the doctor to look at his back to make sure that it was healing properly, but doing that would mean more caps along with the displeasure of having to deal with the man more. He probably wouldn't want to look at a damned zombie in the first place.

He reentered her room and set everything by the wall. He pulled the shotgun off of his back and sat beside her bed. He crossed his legs under him, lay the shotgun across his lap, and draped an arm over her leg. She had no idea how much he had fucking missed her.