Cross took a visit to his old radiation stomping grounds; sitting on the edge of an empty barrel, he lit a cigarette in his mouth and smoked deeply. The heel of his palm rubbed into his forehead; the white smoke being exhaled through his nose.

His head ached. Twice now he had been slugged in the dome, and both times by the women he had affairs with. He laughed aloud to himself.

In less than a fucking week his life had been completely trampled on. Thinking back to his failed ambush that fateful night, he wished he could have stepped into that memory and altered it forever. The shit he was dealing with was for the birds.

But damn him if he didn't like it. Life had been pretty straight-forward for the past several years. Get a contract, shoot the contract. Get paid and: buy beer, a meal, and a woman. Easy. Now, it was getting messy. There was a new interest in his sights that he did not necessarily want to have but have it he wanted. Ghoul or not, he was a man. And some men just fell hard for some women.

He cracked his neck and closed his eyes. But God, why did he have to fall for such a complicated woman?!

The searing itch from the radiation snapped him back to reality, and he waited for it to finish while watching the sun make its way down. After a few hours, he was right as rain and proceeded back into town.

Charon finished reassembling his shotgun back together, beginning to count the number of shells available in their new inventory of supplies. Evelyn had come back from her dealings with the merc wearing a troubled facial expression, and it gave him concern that she might have run into some difficulty without his aid. She said nothing of it, though, when she had come to fetch him from the bar where he had been ordered to wait. He left it alone.

"Play it again, my Johnny…"

The Pip-Boy was now fully functional again, much to Evelyn's delight. She had it tuned to a local radio station, and they were both focused on sorting away their things in preparation for the long road ahead.

"Maybe you're cold, but you're so warm, inside-"

Doesn't Three Dog ever have any new hits to play? Like, c'mon, man!

The shells were aplenty. Carefully, and with practiced organizational skills, he stowed them away. When he was done, he remained seated and watched Evelyn go about her packing routine, his fingers thrumming against the table absentmindedly.

"I was always a fool, for my Johnny-"

"Why are we going to Braxton?" He rasped at her.

Out of shock from hearing him speak unexpectedly, Evelyn dropped the bottles of purified water from her hands, and they made a thud as they hit the floor. "W-what?" She gave him a weird glance and bent over to retrieve her things. "You asked why?"

"For the one, they call, Johnny Guitar."

A single nod.

"Because…because I have to." She told him firmly. "That's why."

He exhaled noisily; his face stony. "Why?"

She was busying herself now, erratically placing items where they did not normally go, or in such an obnoxious fashion that she would have to redo it. "Does it matter? I'm going. I've made that clear."

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor filled the room. Within a few strides, he had her cornered against the dresser; a cracked mirror reflected his burning eyes back at himself. "It does matter. You matter." He leaned an arm above her head and bent his face down close to her. "Why are we going to Braxton?"

Charon was an intimidating ghoul; he didn't even have to try. Evelyn had become accustomed to his stoic nature, and his brutal tendencies worked well alongside hers. She knew he would become an invaluable person to her the moment she had purchased his contract.

She placed her hands on his chest, lightly tapping him with her bandaged fingers.

"I don't want to set the world, on fire-"

"Do you want to leave me?" As much as she hated herself for crying, she couldn't stop the immense emotion she felt when asking. "Please don't say no because you have to be with me…I don't want you unless you want me."

"I just want to start, a flame in your heart-"

The space between them grew a little as he leaned away from her and brought both her hands into his own. She rubbed his palms with her thumb over his fingerless gloves.

"In my heart I have but one, desire-"

"Evelyn, look at me." He gently spoke to her.

"And that one is you-"

With a sniff, she met his blue eyes with her own, and for once, they held no fire in them. Just a hint of melancholy.

"No other will do…"

"I will always want to be with you."

The ferryman was standing guard outside her door, and he looked pissed.

Will I ever catch a break? Cross indignantly thought, and then he remembered the words that would leave his mouth. Heh. Probably not.

"Takin' any visitors?" The ghoul came to stand before his other, tilting his head back to look at him fully. "I need to talk to her."

The ferryman said nothing, just remained in place with his arms crossed and leg bent against the door. If his eyes could kill, Cross would've exploded from the impact.

The seconds passed in silence between them until the bounty hunter finally shook his head, grumbling to himself as he turned and walked away. "I'll catch you two in the mornin', then."

He ambled his way back to the tavern, ordering a bottle of scotch and a cup before retreating to a corner away from the other patrons. An hour passed, and his glass was continuously refilled. He was out of cigarettes, again, and so he fulfilled his oral fixation with more drinking. Another hour passed, and he was finally beginning to feel his taut muscles relax.

It was late. There were few regulars, now, and a sliver of the moon was beginning its climb outside the window. His head was humming, the radiation from earlier melding with the alcoholic buzz he felt inside his skull; it was a euphoric feeling, in its own way. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, focusing on the grainy texture of the booth pressed flat against his bald head.

Damnit Darcy, I already told you, this isn't my kind of work. Find someone else.

The brief memory nearly startled him from his seat. With a thunk of his palm resting against the table for support, he blinked slowly and tried to regain some balance as he sat upright.

The bottle was empty.

He grumbled to himself; the image of the dead smoothskin woman raped his nonconsensual mind. That golden hair and her fragrant aroma; so sweet it had begun to suffocate him.

Fuck this. With a growl, he unsteadily rose from his spot and made a trip down the hallway; the years of practiced routine making his journey almost habitual. When he came to her door, he knocked loudly three times, his fist shaking the frame from the force.

"Who in the-" The shrill rasp quieted down when the door was thrust open. "Oh. It's you. Just what in the world are-"

Her words died in a garble down her throat as massive, gray hands came up and encompassed around her face, nonexistent lips meeting hers desperately. As he stepped inside, one hand was already traveling down the front of her worn dress, the other closing the door behind them.

Click

Charon turned at the sound of his employer's door opening; a small form of skimpy clothing and white skin turning upwards to stare at him. That mass of brunette curls wildly cascaded down her back.

"Did he come back?" She softly questioned, rubbing the slumber from her eyes. "I…I need to apologize, to him." She shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. "Can't really sleep until I do…"

Charon sighed, the massive form of his chest rising and falling. "Yes." He replied in monotone. "But he did not return to his room. I suspect he is still in town somewhere." He waited patiently for her to return inside and close the door, satisfied with his answer.

She bit her lip and he inwardly groaned.

"I'll be back." She sneezed, rubbing at her nose. "I need to put on some shoes, if he comes back, can you-"

"I will go find him. It is cold outside, and your clothing isn't adequate enough for the temperature." What his words really translated into was half of your skin is showing, and with all the creeps in this town, there's no way in hell I'm letting you roam around by yourself.

The bait was nabbed, and he felt her tug at it. "Are you sure? I don't mind-"

He gently grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to shepherd her back into her room. "I am sure. I will return back shortly." He then reached inside and smoothly closed the door behind himself. With a turn on his heel, he exited the inn and headed straight for the bar.

It was the most logical place, in his mind. The mercenary had previous acquaintance's there, as was brought to his attention earlier with the ghoul woman and their public scuffle. The ferryman gave a once over to the few patrons bending over their drinks; no one met his glowing eyes. Cross wasn't present.

The nightshift barkeep watched him warily as he approached the counter, unsure of Charon's intentions. Charon didn't purposefully mean to frighten the man; he just did.

"I am looking for the bounty hunter ghoul, was he here?" Charon asked in his most deadpan voice.

The bartender busily worked a filthy cloth around a grimy glass, somehow in hopes both would come out clean. "Oh, yeah. He's in the back with Susie, I think." He pointed at the hallway that led around the back of the establishment, and Charon just gave a nod.

Wandering past a few doors, he finally came to a stop before the one that was producing the most noise. His fist pounded on the frame.

The moaning cut off instantly, followed by a few stringed curses and loud footsteps. The sound of clinking buckles could be heard as Charon crossed his arms and tapped his bicep impatiently. The door was then swung open.

The half-naked bounty hunter peered at him, blinking stupidly for a moment, and then he seemed to freeze in place. Charon's eyes darted to the woman in her bed, huddling the blanket for modesty over her naked chest.

Without saying a word, Charon took the handle from the dumbfounded ghoul and slammed the door shut so violently the walls of the room shook, earning a shriek from the woman inside. A ruckus of cursing and yelling then sounded behind him as he stalked down the hallway.

When he had returned to the inn, Evelyn was sitting outside her door, her knees drawn to her chest and her hands busy twiddling their thumbs. The sound of his heavy footsteps drew her head up, the ray of hope in her face twisting his gut.

"Did you find him?" She asked optimistically, going to rise from her spot.

Charon hesitated. "Why are you outside your room?" He countered.

"Just in case he came back." She replied, grabbing hold of the arm he proposed to her for support as she got to her feet. "So?"

"He…" Charon paused. As much as he despised the bounty hunter, he did not like seeing Evelyn upset. And boy, would she be lethal. "Was preoccupied." Was all he offered, leaning away from her slightly as his words began to process on her face.

At first, there was undeniable rage. Her shoulders tensed and her eyes lit up with fury, but before she could explode, she burst into tears and began to bawl.

"Shit."

The figure of their conflicts appeared at the end of the hallway, the door to the lobby swinging closed.

Evelyn was hurriedly wiping away at her tears as Charon reached for his weapon, and the merc hastily grasped inside his open jacket for his own.

Both weapons clicked as the safety was drawn back; barrels pointed downrange at the other.

Evelyn stood beside her companion, lightly hugging herself as her shoulders shuddered and tears continued to race down her cheeks. "I-I…how could you?" Her voice was thick with emotion; Charon had never seen her this dismayed. It angered him in a way he hadn't felt before. His finger ghosted the trigger and his eyes never left his target.

Cross blew out a sigh, and he genuinely looked upset over her grief. "I fucked up. I-"

"You went ahead and fucked up someone else after you told me you wouldn't! You fucking liar!" She seethed at him, roughly wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes. "I should have never trusted you!"

The bounty hunter felt her words slap him across the face. Those blue eyes were so distraught over his thoughtless choices, and he felt her anchor give away from himself. His boat was sailing away, straight into a thunderstorm.

"The deal is off." She informed him dully, her shoulders slackening as she waved a hand limply at him. "I'll have your money at the desk; we're done."

The words floated past, but he didn't catch them. "Wait, what?" He slowly lowered his gun, the face he gave her was absolutely stunned. "No, we're not." He was no longer in the boat; he was overboard, drowning in the murky waters.

She stepped forward and came to stand a few inches from him, staring so detachedly she looked straight through him. Her cheeks were puffy and tinged ruddy from her crying.

"I never want to see you again." The words left her lips, and he had to force himself to read them because there was no sound.

The last thing he saw was her fist coming around to his face; purple-lightning spiderwebbed across his darkened sky in the lonely sea.

The plate made a loud scraping sound as it was thrust forward under his employer's nose. Evelyn looked up with a hint of annoyance at the ghoul, her eyebrows knitted together crossly.

"You haven't eaten," Charon muttered to her.

"Not hungry," Evelyn mumbled, peering back down to the book she had lain across her side of the table. "You have it."

An exasperated grumble was given. "Please, Evelyn."

"A please isn't going to make me anymore hungry, Charon." She huffed and shoved the food back at him.

In a dramatic fashion, Charon seized the plate up with one hand and slammed it back down over her book, effectively cracking the plate cleanly in half whilst somehow only making minor spillage. The few people in the diner turned their attention to the commotion.

"Jesus, Charon." Evelyn breathed out, her eyes roving to the others before meeting his glower. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Charon leaned back in his seat; the full weight of his body earned a creak. "Eat." He ordered.

Unsure if she would actually heed him, he was surprised to watch as she picked up a fork and slowly nibbled on the pieces of the food before her. After a few slow bites, she then quickly devoured the entirety of her meal.

She left a handful of more caps than was necessary on the table when they finished.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon; a wide breadth of mountain ranges looming in the distance. The whir and click of Evelyn's Pip-Boy was a welcomed sound to the ferryman's ears; despite the night's transgressions, everything was seemingly back to normal.

His employer reached a hand up to wipe at her eyes furiously, and he mentally sighed; well, hopefully all would soon go back to normal.

They left the town of Crawshad behind them; a small dot in their peripherals as they continued their journey without the bounty hunter. Charon had verbally wished she had thrown a little more force behind her punch; leaving the slime alive was more than the merc deserved.

"Maybe…maybe we should have gone left-" A dirt-stained finger was directed Southward, "Rather than right." That finger then came to rest on a pair of pink lips; her face contorted into confusion.

He grumbled in response to the outspoken thoughts.

They were lost…again.

"…I swear this map-"

Evelyn blathered on, completely engrossed in the tiny glow of her Pip-Boy as she flicked the knob in rapid succession. Charon crossed his arms and arched his back in a stretch; his passive gaze making a distant sweep of the wastes for any threat, before landing on his employer.

Evelyn chewed on her lower lip; her eyes still downturned to the screen. "Did we already pass the interstate? Was that before, or after-?" She grumbled, flexing her bandaged hand carefully. It had been the one she had assaulted the ghoul mercenary with, and it proved to be an unwise decision as it had widened the few lacerations she had reaped from her exploding bottle charade. Charon was already beside her, inspecting her bloodied bandage. "Ow."

"Hold still." He delicately unwrapped her hand, letting the ruined dressing fall to their feet. Charon grumbled something unintelligible. A soft breeze rolled through, providing some relief from the afternoon heat for the two companions.

"You…you talk to yourself so much, y'know that?" Evelyn spoke. "Always complaining about something."

Those hazy eyes studied her hand for a moment. "If you didn't act like yourself, maybe I would have no need to."

Her eyes were fixated on his face now. "Was…was that another joke?"

He only growled nonsense to himself in response, ignoring her wide smile at him. He swathed her bruised hand in both of his. She was going to have some scars across her knuckles. "How does this feel?" He asked, stroking a ruined thumb across the back.

She squinted her face and shrugged her shoulders. "Not so bad- OW!"

He had depressed both thumbs firmly together from either side, and she recoiled her hand away from him in pain.

"Good, that means there's no nerve damage." He was digging through her pack for another fresh roll of bandages.

"Like hell it does." She muttered tersely under her breath. "You're not a fucking doctor."

"Would you like me to verify again?" He raised an eyebrow muscle down at her.

She huffed and reluctantly held her hand towards him, raising her chin to the sky. He had finished cleaning her cuts and was tightening the knot on her wrapping when he caught her far off stare to the town they had left below, her face drawn sorrowfully. He drew the knot flush across her hand with a little more force than was necessary; she scowled at him as she winced from the sting.

He indicated with his head to the wastes beyond. "Let's go."