A/N: Sorry for such a long chapter.

Tap

I-I just need a moment to speak with my Dad…I'll come get you when we're done.

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So, he has this crazy idea, and I don't think you're gonna like it-

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You have the choice to either stick it through to the end with me, or I can send you wherever you wanna go. I'm not forcing you to do this for me, Charon. It's gonna be dangerous, and I don't know how it's gonna end.

A lengthy, well-practiced sigh was exhaled through what remained of the ferryman's nostrils. His head was leaned back, flush against the peeling green wallpaper of the hotel room. A singular, deteriorated finger was acting as a stand-in metronome against the table he was seated at; the dents and jagged grooves along the wooden surface paid homage from those who had come before him.

He was more than well aware that the mercenary had weaseled his way inside her room; he had listened to his large footsteps coming to a halt before her door, their voices drifting down the hallway before her world was closed off from him. The footsteps had never returned.

That was an hour ago.

Tap

The image of her naked skin burned across his retinas; a surprised snort banished the memory from his mind. He had witnessed her bare flesh before; there was nothing perverse about his reaction to it.

It had been poorly timed moments; a scream from a cold shower that he intruded upon, his weapon hounding for an imaginary target. An instance she had awoken from a dead sleep, complaining of the heat from inside her sleeping roll and she had simply stripped herself nude. That had been an awkward morning.

But he did not lust after her as the bounty hunter had. The only thing that he cared for when it came to her body were her scars; the fewer she had, the better he was at his job. Nonetheless, the obvious implications between herself and the merc burrowed a parasitical itch under his skin, and he did not know how to scratch at it.

It was almost two in the afternoon.

She wasn't kidding, she was tired. The bounty hunter thought, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. Not like I did her any favors…

They had kept each other up for most of the night, their erotic needs keeping sleep at bay. She had woken him up twice, both in manners that had surprised him; she did wonders with her mouth. She was a little more experienced sexually than he realized.

Not like he was going to complain about it.

The bounty hunter jammed away his carnal thoughts of her as he felt himself growing hard. He was in public, peering down at the masses below from his perch high in the rafters of the old high school stadium. The marketplace was teeming with the usual wares, and it was where he suspected Evelyn to come when she had woken up.

"I heard you were in town, Cross." A familiar man began to climb the steps, his hands shoved inside his pockets and his automatic rifle slung around his shoulder. "Can't miss your ugly fucking face anywhere."

"Campbell." Cross reached out a hand, and he gave a firm shake. "I would say the same, except I don't miss yours."

The other mercenary chuckled, taking a seat beside him. "Here for the Andrew Field's case?"

Cross shook his head, removing the cigarette from his mouth and blowing a long stream into the air. It was already hazy. "Nope. Got a steady gig right now; escort." He reached inside his jacket, pulling out his carton and offering him one. "You workin' it?"

Campbell gave a shrug of his shoulders, licking the end of the cigarette before committing it to his lips. A small flame lit the end, and he waved a hand in thanks. "Trying, I should say. Bastard has led me from Michigan damn near all the way to Virginia. He's a ghost, man. I sent a courier back to Wells and told them to hire you."

The merc grunted humorously. "Almost did. Probably would have, if not for this job."

"So, escort huh. Caravan?"

Cross shook his head. Before he could elaborate, the devil themselves strode into view; the unmistakable figure of Charon standing out from the crowd. The bounty hunter denoted with his bony index finger. "Those two. The ghoul and the woman."

"Holy shit, and I thought you were a big guy," Campbell remarked at the sight of the ferryman. He then squinted his eyes and gave an appreciative whistle. "She's something I wouldn't mind staring at all day. How do you always seem to get these kinda jobs?"

"Because I'm good at what I do, and everyone knows it," Cross replied evenly. The comment on Evelyn irked him. He cleared his throat, and spit to the side. "Case bring you here, or you call it quits?"

Campbell shifted in his seat, rubbing at his eyes as he exhaled his cigarette. "Trail went cold weeks ago. I'm just drifting through, doing some shit work for shit pay." He took a long drag, his voice muffled by the hit. "Heard there was some problem with super mutants up in Serrato, might head that way once the sandstorm clears."

"Serrato?" Cross questioned. "We're clearin' to Lake Capers, might see you on the way through."

Campbell gave a grin. "Bring your friend and you just might."

Before the ghoul could respond in an appropriate manner, he heard a whistle down below.

"God, you'd think he's fucking deaf or something," Evelyn grumbled, hands on her hips and her expression peeved. She waved at the ghoul as he made his way down the bleachers. "You going feral, old man?" She huffed.

The mercenary glowered at her, visibly offended at her snide jab. "If I do, I'm comin' for you first."

Evelyn rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Not much difference from now, then."

Charon blinked down at the wiry man that had joined their small circle; a quick threat assessment being mentally checked off. Campbell's eyes gave the ferryman a once over in return.

"Campbell." Was all he said, extending a hand.

Evelyn seized it with her own. "Evelyn."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful fa-." He then gasped in pain as the sound of bones popped. "Jesus-" He instantly withdrew his hand to his chest, gingerly holding it against himself.

Evelyn spun angrily at her nightly lover. "Are all of you mercenaries the same?"

Cross was rubbing his face with one hand, trying to stifle the laughter he felt vibrating in his chest.

Evelyn blinked, suddenly looking upset. She gave the new mercenary a rueful glance. "I apologize. Is your hand okay?"

Campbell gaped at her dumbfoundedly, working his fingers delicately. "Um, I mean-uh…sure? I don't think anything is broken." He winced as he attempted to make a fist. "Strong grip you got there."

A dark chuckle escaped the ghoul bounty hunter's lips. "You're lucky; she nearly killed me."

Evelyn shot him a pointed glare. "Some people are just as stupid as they look."

Despite the incursion, Campbell chortled. His hand began to throb uncomfortably. "That sounds like a story I have to hear." He cracked a grin and gave her a wink. "And beg your pardon, but we merc's are not all alike." He indicated with his chin to the ghoul. "Heaven forbid if someone tries and relate me with him."

"Well the way I see it, you're already two rungs up that ladder." She retorted. She pointed to the canvas bag her companion was carrying, her attention back to Cross. "We're stocked up; I'm heading to the repair shop to see if they can fix my Pip-Boy, what the hell have you been doing? Galivanting with the wasteland's finest?" Her eyes landed on Campbell. "If Cross is supposed to be the best, then I can't begin to imagine what your standards must be like."

Campbell gave a slight startle at her hostility before his eyes upturned in an amused smile. "Has anyone ever told you you're like a cross between a deathclaw and a cazador? Because both should be avoided."

"Has anyone ever told you it's rude to waste someone's time with pitiful analogies? No? Well then, here's your first. It's on the house." And with that, she glared at them and spun on her heel. "Charon and I have some actual business to attend to."

The two mercenaries watched them stroll through the crowd, the height of Charon's head giving them tabs on their location.

Campbell gave a breathy sigh. "How the hell do you put up with that? She's a piece of work."

Cross had his hands shoved inside the leathers of his jacket and gave a shrug. "Yeah, it's been some work alright." He arched his back, feeling the spinal column crack. "I'm goin' to get a drink."

His acquaintance was still staring after their trail. "You mind if I join? It's been a long day already."

Slap! The crisp sound echoed in the empty hallway, the ghoul turning his head and working his jaw. Hell, forgot she was mad at me.

"How dare you show your rotting face around here!" The ghoul woman snapped at him, reaching her hand around for a second strike.

Cross intercepted her wrist and gripped it firmly. "That hurt, Susie." He grumbled at her. "Long time, no see to you too."

"I never want to see you again!" She hissed at him, her grating voice shrieking in his eardrums. "You- you bastard!"

He didn't even remember what he had done to make the only bar owning ghoul in town so peeved at him. She usually welcomed him with open arms, a hot meal, and a decent fuck every time he made his way through. The last time he made the rounds through here was…oh.

"You're still mad over that?" He growled lowly.

"You didn't even apologize!" She was crying now, sobbing into his chest. Her wrist fell limp into his hand.

"Why would I apologize for doin' my job?" And just like that, he had stepped back onto the carousel of insanity, and they were having this conversation all over again. "She paid for protection!"

"Oh, yeah, like you didn't fuck her while doing it! I could see the look in her eyes, don't you lie to me!" Susie spat at his feet, removing her flesh from his.

Well, he couldn't argue about that. They did have sex when it was all said and done, and some before then too. She was a nice lady, and she had paid well.

"I'm not goin' to have this argument again." The ghoul shook his head, ignoring the curses and jabs wailing in his face. He lifted up his hands in submission. "Look, I'm just here for a couple days, lookin' to spend some caps for a beer and some food. You really goin' to bar me from the joint for a job I took two years ago?! C'mon Susie."

The female ghoul miffed to the side; her face downcast in somber thought as she furiously wiped away at her tears. "And-you're here…for nothing else?" She asked expectantly, her muddy eyes giving him a doe look. "It's Tuesday, so it'll be slow. George can handle the shift…"

Christ. He was suddenly surrounded by landmines on all sides. Just a week ago, he would've taken her up on the offer and been contentedly tucked away for a better part of the day.

Now…

He grumbly sighed. "Can't. I'm…with someone, right now." He waited for the pin to drop, but it never did.

There was a suspicious look in her eyes. "With someone, what do you mean you're with someone? As in, another job?"

"Do I have to spell it out for ya?" He snarled. "I have a woman, and we're together."

Susie's hand reached back for another swing.

"Can you fix it?" Evelyn demanded, shaking the Pip-Boy erratically at the elderly trader.

Old Man Rick scratched his bald scalp with the nub of a missing thumb. "Hmm, I suppose so. Haven't had somethin' I couldn't fix yet- unless you don't stop shakin' it like that."

Her hand immediately quelled, and she tossed it onto the table at him, along with a bag of caps. "I appreciate it. How soon?"

"Oh, hrm-" He studied the piece thoughtfully in his hands. "Give me a few hours, and I'll see where that puts me."

Evelyn strode out the door and into the late afternoon sunshine, lifting her face to the blue sky for a moment and breathing deeply. Charon kicked himself off the side of the building, his silent disposition awaiting her orders.

"So big guy, what do you wanna do? We're pretty much done with everything…wanna grab some food?" She was twirling in her spot; a constant merry-go-round with a childish smile. He was glad she was back to normal with him, again. She faltered, and he grabbed her elbow to prevent her from falling.

"If that is what you wish." He replied passively, releasing her as soon as she was steady.

"If that is what you wish." She mocked, her throat making an inhumane garbled noise.

"I do not sound like that." His arms went to their usual stance; crossed.

A white grin flashed. "C'mon, let's go see what our incompetent friend is up to."

The ghoul shadowed in step behind her; an indiscernible grumble venting the entire way. She had poked her head inside two taverns; there was no wind of their bounty hunter companion.

At last her hand grasped at a worn doorhandle; their search having taken them to the final saloon in town. "I swear, if he isn't-"

A few eyes turned to stare at them coming through the entryway; a couple lingering longer than was preferable for the bodyguard. Their newly acquainted mercenary was seated at the far end of the bar counter, and he gave a small wave with his good hand as they strode over.

"Cross here?" She asked.

"Yeah, he's in the back."

Evelyn plopped down in the seat next to him; Charon opted to stand with his hands crossed behind him.

"Does he always do that?" Campbell asked warily, his apparent discomfort with the towering ghoul obvious. "Feel like I'm about to get knifed in the back."

"Jesus Charon, take a seat." Evelyn spun around, patting the available barstool beside her. "You're making me nervous."

The large ghoul instantly convened; the furnishing gave a cautionary creak as his weight settled. The bartender took their orders, his towel slapping loudly over one shoulder as he turned to fetch their requested menu items. Evelyn was twirling the end of her braid around one finger; a river of dark port being poured into a glass.

"How's the hand?"

"Seen better days." He muttered.

"I mean, that's most quintessential."

Campbell raised his beer bottle to his lips, enjoying the smooth hops washing over his tongue. "Quin-what?"

Evelyn huffed irritably. "Quintessential. Like, most exemplary." When he gave her a blank look, she rolled her eyes. "Ideal."

Campbell chuckled as she seemingly took offense to his ignorance. "Sorry some of us ain't as well-read as some others."

Evelyn took a drink from her choice of poison. It was a dry selection, and she didn't like it as much as she had hoped for. Nonetheless, she nursed it to her chest. "You mercs really are all the same." She muttered gloweringly.

Campbell watched her take another small sip from her beverage, and he waved over to the barkeep, holding up his beer to insinuate another. He turned his head back around and graced Evelyn with a wry smile. Evelyn watched the cold beer bottle set down between them, a pair of caps tossed in exchange. An eyebrow was raised as the bottle was slid towards her person.

The tanned mercenary shrugged nonchalantly. "Notice you didn't like your drink."

She slightly narrowed her eyes at his friendly behavior, but he just laughed and tipped his beer at her in cheers. She popped the cap off with her bare hand in a silent threat. Regardless, she took a swig, her palate finally appetized. Evelyn then bit her bottom lip in thought, the strand continuously twirling. The mercenary's eyes followed, but she took no notice. "So, do all of you hired thugs know each other or something? World that small?"

Campbell chuckled. A cold drop of precipitation rolled languidly down the side of his amber bottle, helping form the water stain that was ready to join the thousands of others on the bar countertop. With a light grip at the base, he brought the tip of it to his mouth and took a drink. "I just know the good ones."

"He's not that good," Evelyn whispered sardonically, a cheeky smile forming on her lips. "Just ask him about the broken ribs I gave him."

Campbell's body language was beginning to open into her now; he had subconsciously turned in his seat to face her fully. "Like I said, I wouldn't mind hearing it."

She kept her closed posture and shrugged. "I'm sure he could tell it better; I'll fill in the later parts he was too cold to remember."

He had begun to lean forward. "I'm sure you cou-"

Evelyn's bottle then exploded all over the counter, sending bits of glass and foam everywhere. "Sorry, sorry." Evelyn looked up with pleading eyes towards the bartender, who just stared at her with a shocked look on his face. "I'll clean it up!" She reached over and grabbed a rag from behind the counter, busy mopping up her mess.

Charon sighed irately. That was the fifth time she had done that this month, and he was tempted at this point to supply her beverages in a plastic bottle. The stupefied bar patrons were watching her until someone coughed loudly and the trance was then broken, the normal din of the bar house resuming.

Her red face gave an indication of her chagrin and she flopped the soaked dishrag down, carefully scooping up the bits of glass together in a neat pile. "Thanks for the beer." She mumbled at Campbell, avoiding his staggered stare. A long shard of glass had finagled its way into her palm, and she carefully slid it out.

"What the fuck happened here?" A rasp sounded behind her, milky eyes narrowing down at her hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She bit at him, precariously sliding out another piece of bloody glass. "It was just…nothing."

Cross gave an evil glare at the mercenary seated next to her, but he just raised his hands with a look that said don't look at me, I didn't do anything.

"Goddamn. Can't take you anywhere." He muttered, observing Charon gently taking ahold of her wrist. The ferryman rotated it around, observing the rivulets of blood that snaked down her forearm. "Did you puncture anythin'? Should get you a stimpak."

"No. It's fine." She flexed her fingers into a loose fist, and then relaxed them. "I'll just wrap it." She then watched as Charon methodically went about picking out the remaining shards. She stole a glance at Campbell. "I need another beer, I guess."

The blonde merc immediately spun in his seat.

The bartender walked over and scooped her little glass pile into a metal bucket. She pulled out some caps with her good hand and set them down, splaying them out with her fingers for easy counting. "I swear it won't happen again."

The barkeep just raised his eyebrows down at her, popping the cap off a new bottle and setting it down. The cap was pocketed into his apron and he meandered away.

Charon had set to work in wrapping her hand proficiently with a fresh bandage roll he kept on his person. She leaned back in her seat, watching the ferryman nurse her extremity. A strangled commotion was then heard down the hallway leading to the back of the establishment, and nearly everyone turned to see what the fuss was about. A ghoul woman stomped angrily into the room, only to give Cross a scathing look and then disappear behind a door.

"You didn't get us kicked out, did you?" Campbell spoke slowly to the bounty hunter. "Only decent food in town."

Cross shook his head. "No. It's fine." Got a damn headache for it, though.

"I guess I'll take your word for it." The merc raised his bottle.

Cross shoved his hands into his leather jacket. "Did you get that damn thing fixed?" He asked Evelyn, readdressing her attention from the empty space where Susie had been.

"Do you see a Pip-Boy on my fucking arm? Going deaf and blind?" She held her good arm out to him; he grated his teeth in annoyance at her childish behavior. "Yeah, keep looking at me like that and you will sleep in the fucking streets tonight." She huffed, wiggling in her chair. "You can savor last night to keep you warm."

Campbell spit his beer all over the counter, hacking his lungs up to dispel the inhaled liquid. Cross turned his back to the man, ignoring the obvious elephant that had now entered the room.

"Just what are you pissed off for?" He growled lowly at her. There was already one woman furious with him; he didn't really care to add a second…especially from the one he wanted to share a bed with. "You don't have to go everywhere swingin'."

Their eyes met for a few seconds until she broke off to the side and waved her newly mummified appendage at him. "I think our friend is dying." She redirected dully.

Cross sighed, the sound like metal being scraped. His large hand thumped sturdily over his past acquaintance, nearly knocking the man off his bar stool.

"O-kay, I-m goo-d, good." Campbell sputtered, wiping away the spittle on the edge of his chin. "T-thanks." A towel was tossed at him; the barkeep was shaking his head.

Suddenly, the sound of a door slammed, and a woman materialized with a rush of air.

"So, where is she? Didn't bring her, or do you just not want me anymore?" The tavern owner rudely sniped. "You can at least be honest to the woman that you've been screwing for the past six years."

"Christ Susie! Are you-"

"What!? You've lied to me before, why should I expect any different this time? You sleazy, zombi-"

Cross grabbed at the woman's arm, making their way outside. When they had stepped around the corner, he thrust her against the side of the building and pointed a finger threateningly in her face. "That's crossin' a line; what in the goddamn is the matter with you?!"

"I haven't seen you in months! When you finally do happen to show your worthless ass, you treat me indifferently! Like I'm nothing!" There were tears leaking from the sides of her eyes, and she dabbed at them with the heel of her dark olive palm. "I-I know we aren't exclusive, but-you know-I've always missed you. You're the one thing I can look forward to in this rotten hellhole." She sniffed loudly. "I'm s-sorry I was mad earlier…I just want you to want me, like you do."

Those green ruined hands came out and gently caressed at his jacket, her fingers curling into the leather straps shyly. "I've been so lonely, Cross." She tilted her head back to him, her patches of silky blonde hair falling to the wayside; her eyes glinted from the fresh tears. Tightening her hold on him, she sidled up close until their bodies were flush. "Make me an honest woman, just for tonight."

The bounty hunter's hands came to rest on her shoulders; a familiar shelf he had previously sought purchase over many a year. "Susie, I-"

A shuffling to their side drew both their heads around. Evelyn's face was crimson as her eyes darted between the two ghouls, and then something of a loathing accusation was snapped back to Cross's face. She turned on her heel to depart around the corner.

FUCK.

"Who's the smoothskin?" Susie ignorantly rasped. "Wh-"

"I have to go." He suddenly announced, reaching down and unwrapping her suggestive fingers from his waist.

"But-"

The merc didn't look back, hurryingly giving chase down the strip. The gold and orange rays of early dusk gave the nearly empty avenue an abandoned vibe. He spotted her small figure marching steadfastly without so much as a glance back.

"Goddamnit, woman, just let me talk," Cross growled, easily coming beside her with his long stride.

"I don't care for what you have to say." She spat, not bothering to look at him. "Go away."

"That's not fair." He grumbled at her. "C'mon, would you just stop for a minute?" He took a dangerous bet and grabbed her shoulder, forcibly spinning her around to face him. "It's not what you think."

"My name isn't woman." She said hotly, planting her hands onto her hips. "And you are no one and nothing to me; you don't have to care what I think."

"Ouch." A wave of hurt spanned his face for a moment. She's just pissed off, let her cool down. But, no. Cross was stupid, and so he took a big stick and poked the bear.

"Okay, Evelyn," He drawled. "You really think I'm that fuckin' stupid? You heard her in the bar; she was just upset. You goin' to hold past flames over me? Cause I'm goin' to be honest, there's a lot."

Her eyebrows came together in thought, and she bit her bottom lip. The look was dangerously cute. Ugh.

When there was no rebuttal, he felt brazened to continue. "Look, you're mad at me, okay? I understand that. It's my specialty with women."

The pensive mood she had for a moment completely washed away, and she was glaring at him again with a look that fired you say the stupidest fucking things.

He backpedaled. "Alright alright- what I mean to say is…" This is hard.

"Are you going to fucking speak normally or are you just going to stand there and waste my fucking time?!" She snapped. Those eyes were an ocean on fire now.

Cross peered down at her and he subconsciously noticed his breathing was heavy. Most women he dealt with were happy to be in his charmed poises. Sure, he was a ghoul, and sure, the women he interacted with were also ghouls; the world was small, and it made theirs that much smaller. But he never met one he couldn't flatter or keep in his good graces. They were still normal women, just ghoulified.

Evelyn, on the other hand…was violent, and temperamental. She was beautiful, but she harbored some deep, personal grudges against something that kept her demeanor cold. It was a deadly combination; like standing in the middle of a thunderstorm.

And Cross regretfully found that he would chance standing in it, and risk getting struck.

Relying on the last trick up his sleeve-that normally worked in other disputes such as this-the ghoul cupped the sides of her face gently with both hands and brought her lips up in a kiss.

At first, he felt the instant fear of danger that his life was at risk, because with her, it technically was. When no retaliation came, he kept himself firmly planted against her and he felt her kiss him back, her soft lips moving with him decisively.

Cross grew enthusiastic until she unexpectedly broke off from him, their mouths coming apart with an audible smack, and she decked him in the side of the face with her good hand. Not enough punch to kill him, thankfully.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

And just like that, he had braved the storm and was hit by lightning.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes down at him; her chest moved rapidly with her elevated breathing. For a moment, she watched him groan on the ground and his hands clutched at his head. She was surprised he wasn't unconscious.

Slowly, she crouched beside him, her fingers sifting through the cold silt of dirt as he squinted an eye at her. There was no resentment at her ferocity, just a knowing thought of I figured as much.

"Are you deaf, or stupid?" She recalled tonelessly at him.

Cross had rolled onto his side, a palm massaging his jawbone back and forth. It gave a small grinding sound. His face looked confused for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and gave a knowing chuckle.

"I'm persistent."

She snorted at him, chucking a handful of soil at his chest. "You're persistently stupid, then." And with that, she raised herself off the balls of her feet and walked away.