Author's Note: Thank you NickMcGinty for all your kind reviews. I'm hope you continue to enjoy this story!

Leah slurped her stew while Carol went on about the time she had first learned to drive a car. The idea of sitting in a vehicle that moved at speeds faster than she could sprint with the windows down made her imagine it would be similar to flying. Carol described the old world like a paradise. Trees that provided cooling shade with their green leaves that changed color every year into shades of gold and red sounded like magic. Blue skies, untainted by fallout clouds, were images she had only seen in books and grimy paintings that still hung in the National Gallery of Art. Grass, green and sweet-smelling, that were rich with moisture and life but itchy under bare feet was an experience she sorely desired to have.

She wanted that life. A painful nostalgia left a hole in her heart for a world that no longer existed. "Carol, have you written this down? You should write a memoir."

"Oh, I don't know," Carol was wiping the counter, "I doubt many people would want to read about my life."

"I would. I have a friend who's working on publishing a survival guide. She's been using a terminal to save her work and has a prewar printer to publish. It's possible. I could help you get set up. And I would love to read something that is current and Megaton could use more accessible modern literature."

"Well, maybe-" Carol was cut off to the sound of the doors being slammed open with a powerful thud.

Everyone turned to gawk at the troop of men in black. Rifles cradled in their arms. Eyes gleaming mean. Leah had an itch in her throat and a twist in her lower stomach. She swiveled in her bar stool and leaned her back to Carol's bar. She had her hand on the pistol at her hip, mentally making peace with her life. This is it.

"Well now," the man strode up to her. "Our little saint from the vault." The Talon Company merc had a wide face and a flat nose. His hair was the color of dusty dirt. He stood over her with a cruel smile mocking her. He had soot on his face, black powder caking his cheeks. "We heard you like to come out here. Got a thing for the zombies."

"Hi. Have we met?" She kept her tone even and polite. She didn't want any stray bullets to get Carol or anyone else in the bar.

"No. We haven't. The name's Emmett."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Leah."

"Leah James. Yeah, I figured. Vault dwellers tend to stand out. Not as tanned as the rest of us. You're a lot smaller than I imagined. Word on the street is you're dangerous. I don't see what the hype is."

She ran her eyes across the men. Seven. That's a lot. She didn't dare look at a single bystander. She didn't want them to think she cared about anyone in particular. They always went straight for the heart. "Fancy a drink? It's on me."

"Heh. Well, you sure are sweet. Kind of a shame. We've got a bounty for you. I don't think a round of watered-down liquor is going to change that."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Mind if I finish mine first, though? Last drink before the final show? Then I'll come willingly."

"Oh?" Emmett let out a snicker. "All right, then. Have your drink."

She waved at Carol, her face and gesture impersonal now. Carol's eyes were wide and pained. Her lip was quivering as she poured her a tall healthy helping of the strongest whiskey she carried.

Leah washed it down fast, allowing the searing hot burn of the alcohol to give her that liquid courage she so desperately needed. She wasn't trembling but her spine vibrated with terrified energy.

"Let's go, princess." The man put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it hard.

"Thanks, Emmett. Lead the way." She let out a gasp of pain as he gripped her wrist and pulled it sharply to the small of her back. He had her pistol in his hand, his palms pushing against her sides as he patted her down. He kicked her legs apart as he snapped his fingers for one of his entourage to continue searching her. She felt rough hands feel her ankles and pull her pant legs up. Her combat knife was taken. Her pockets were emptied. In front of the entire restaurant, her face burned with raw vulnerability.

She kept her gaze fixed ahead, not looking anyone in the eye. Emmett leaned in close, his breath on her cheek. He muttered in her ear, "All these people you've helped and not a single one is going to step up and save you? That must hurt."

She turned to the mercenary. "You're the only one hurting me right now."

He chuckled and squeezed her wrist tighter, pushing and twisting her arm higher upwards. She clenched her jaw and kept her gaze distant. "Get used to it. Now. Move." He pushed her forward and she obliged. She walked surrounded by the shadow men as they pushed the onlookers out of the way and made their way out of Carol's Place.

"So who hired you? Burke?"

"Yep. Gave us an offer I know you can't top." They made it to the stairs and she carefully descended, trying not to give the man any reason to shove or grip her worse. Her mind was buzzing. She couldn't see a way out of this. Her thoughts had lingered on Charon intervening but he wasn't in view. This was, indeed, a shitty situation. She couldn't buy them off. She didn't have that much in raw caps on hand. Maybe if she had another double dose of buffout and psycho, maybe, but it wasn't likely they were going to let her start dosing herself. All she could do was sweet talk them. Buy herself some time.

"That's too bad. I'm guessing Burke wasn't too happy about what went down in Megaton?"

"Heh. You can say that. He's not happy at all. I've worked for him before. I've never seen the man so pissed off."

"Well, just let him know it wasn't anything personal. I just couldn't go through with it. And that I was telling the truth. About his eyes." They pushed out the front doors and entered the Museum lobby. They stopped and Emmet spun her around, looking her up and down.

"You think we're going to kill you? Oh no." Sharp smile that seemed to enjoy watching her squirm grew across his sallow cheeks. "Burke made it clear he wants you alive."

Her heart sank. This was quickly spiraling out of control. "Oh." The disappointment was clear in her voice. She had been counting on this being her final dance. The last great adventure before sweet release. She was hoping she would finally get a chance to meet her mother.

Emmett cackled. His gang of miscreants joined in the malicious humor. "Oh yeah. He wants you alive and uninjured. He specifically mentioned how we aren't going to damage one hair on your pretty little head." He ruffled her scalp like a dog. "And mentioned that he's got special plans for you, back at Tenpenny Tower. Tie her up."

One of the mercenaries took her wrists and bound them firmly with some duct tape. She looked down at her feet. Her bag was back at Carol's. Her pip boy screen was blocked by the gaudy adhesive. She finally allowed herself to let her eyes wander. She took in the men. All large. Strong. Biceps swollen and dressed to kill. All armed to the teeth.

She scanned the lobby. No one else was there. All the residents had gone to hide, it seemed. Where the fuck is Charon?

(Necro)

He knew it would be unwise to attack there. Not just unwise but likely that his employer would get harmed or be in a more dangerous position if he began shooting. He crouched in the shadows, behind a pillar as he watched the Talon Company men as they bound her wrists. He had heard them mention Tenpenny Tower. What the fuck did she do to piss Alistair Tenpenny off?

He had heard the name Burke and how this guy had paid to have her brought to him alive. That couldn't be a good sign. He doubted it was a lover's quarrel. Her cheeks had gone as white as plaster when their leader mentioned him.

He would wait until the men were far away from Underworld. They would lower their guard eventually. Especially if they didn't know they were being hunted.

Charon had fresh ammo and the new combat armor gave him the feeling of newfound power and confidence that he would easily have an opportunity to rescue her. Despite the risk, she was still the holder of his contract. He was bound to make sure no harm befell her or it.

He didn't want to worry about what would happen if any of those bastards put their dirty hands on that sheet of paper. He'd cross that bridge if he got to it.

They pushed her forward and she obeyed. She didn't seem to have put up much of a fight. The man in charge, some idiot with a dumb smile on his face, kept talking to her. Trying to get her to react. She barely did, which he felt a warm buzz of pride. She was holding herself well. She was exceeding his expectations on her mental fortitude, after these weeks knowing her.

"So, you and Burke, huh?" The man was walking about with a reckless swagger that Charon looked forward to crippling. He walked almost brutishly and did not hold his assault rifle securely. His boots scuffled on the ground noisily. He would shoot him right in the knees when the opportunity arose.

She remained silent the entire day they traveled. They had gone into the underground tunnels, following the abandoned metro tracks in silence. Charon kept searching for the howls of a feral or the pitter-patter of bare feet on concrete as they ventured deeper. He was disappointed to find he had no fellow ghoul allies at his disposal. For now.

The soldiers had set up camp at one of the metro stops. They had lit a fire that forced Charon to hide behind one of the derailed subway cars nearby. The smell of burning grease and the sound of tin cans being cut opened echoed over to his position.

"Is the good doctor hungry?" A voice called out, sarcastic bite in his tone.

"No, thank you." The crackling of the flames and the harsh laughter from the men filled the darkness.

"So polite. Is that how all vault dwellers talk?"

"No."

"Here. Eat. You're going to need your strength. We'll be walking all day tomorrow and I sure don't want to have to carry your ass all the way to Tenpenny Tower."

"Fine. Thank you."

The sound of metal scraping and messy eating began. "So what did you do to piss off Burke? He only mentioned you backed out of a deal with him. I've never met a guy who would pay us to make sure you're brought to him in one piece. Usually, it's a straightforward head delivery."

"Why do you care, Emmett?"

"I don't. But just trying to have some conversation. Haven't heard Three Dog rant about it yet. Color me curious."

"Well, Burke wanted me to detonate the warhead in Megaton. He paid me in advance. I... well, fuck it, I don't care what you think. I put the charm on him. Flirted with him and convinced him to leave the town alone. I disarmed the bomb just to be sure and sent him off his merry way."

The men began to laugh, roaring, and hooting at this. "That explains it. You fuck him?"

Leah crowed abruptly. "No. I didn't find mass murder much of a turn on."

"Good life advice. You don't fuck around with a man's heart. Damn, kid, he's going to tear you apart. You know this, right?"

"Oh, believe me. I can imagine." She sounded grave. Insidiously calm. "I assure you, I'm not looking forward to it."

"Guess you're gonna learn the hard way about not leading a powerful man with his dick."

"Guess I am." Scraping and shuffling. "So what made you all go into mercenary work? Is the pay that good?"

"It's all right. Caps. Guns. And we look out for each other. Talon Company's had my back since I was big enough to shoot straight," Emmett seemed talkative. Charon wondered why she bothered putting her 'charm' onto them. It wouldn't do her any good.

"Talon Company saved my life," another voice added. "Raiders killed my village. I was one of the only survivors when Talon came through. They offered me a place to stay. Been with them since."

Similar stories were thrown out. Nowhere else to go. Desperation. Survival. That's all this was. Everyone was surviving in their own way.

"Kid, what makes you go around doing all the things that you do?" Another man, not Emmett, shot the question. "Doubt the pay's any good."

"You'd be surprised. People tend to be generous when you help them out. And I don't know, I just did what felt right? It depends on the situation. I'm not perfect, but I just want to help more than hurt."

They tiffed at her, mocking. The unknown man spoke. "I heard about what you did for Reilly."

"Oh. You know her?"

"Yeah. Butcher and I go way back. Reilly's a bitch. The Rangers are shit. But Butcher is good company. He used to be one of us."

"Really?"

"Dice. Shut it." Emmett gave a low warning growl to the smallest of the group, a babyfaced kid with a comically upturned nose.

The party had gone silent. The fire popped and hissed, filling the auditory void. Charon risked poking his head around the corner of the train. He stayed low to the ground. The flames were radiating bright orange light, casting eight shadows out like a flaming flower. She was there, knees to her chin and her bound wrists slung against her ankles. She looked exhausted. He was hoping to get to her as soon as they began to sleep. There'd be a watch.

I could make a noise. Get him to investigate. Knock him out. But I'd better do this right.

Their numbers made the odds against his favor. He didn't like it.

She scooted onto her back and stretched out. Her eyes were up to the ceiling. Her boots were splayed with the soles pointed toward the campfire. Her wrists rested on her stomach as if she was being laid to rest.

Some of the mercs had a similar plan. They all began to curl up and catch some shut-eye. So he'd have to wait. He got comfortable and began running the scenarios through his head. He stopped when he saw the familiar glint of a hazy eyeball watching him. He snapped his head, studying his onlooker. And smiled. Perfect timing.

(Necro)

She was staring at the cracks of the tall ceiling of the subway tunnels. They branched out like the roots of a tree. Not that she knew what a tree really looked like. But the pictures she would see in the books from Vault 101's library had helped her get a good idea of what they looked like. Her heartbeat slowed as she realized she was probably never going to see that library again. So much had been left unfinished.

So this is it. She felt numb and her mind was empty. She didn't try to imagine what her future held. It only made the situation worse. But still...

She closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing deep and steady as she fought her nervous heart. She was trembling. Her eyes were beginning to water. Fuck. What is Burke going to do to me?

"Hey." Emmett was standing over her. "Time for your piss break." He grabbed her forearms and hoisted her to her feet, pushing her ahead of him to move in some random direction off to the side. She gingerly stepped over crumbled boulders of concrete and exposed rebar. They had walked far enough to be out of earshot when she felt herself being swung around and her back slammed against a wall. Emmett had each arm branched out and surrounding her. He had bent over her, his breath hot and wet on her forehead. "Even though Burke's paid to have you brought to us, you can always outbid him."

"What's your price?" She looked up to the faintest glimmer of intent in his black eyes. She could see them scanning her up and down, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hungrily. She already knew what he wanted. She felt his hands close into her, one hand resting on her hip, fingers pushing up her chest armor and a rough thumb caressing her pelvis bone. He leaned forward and began to bite her earlobe. She took in a sharp breath, her skin crawling. She closed her eyes and squeezed her jaw tight. There was little she could do in this situation besides comply or get a black eye.

She was whisked back to her childhood. Emmett had become Allen Mack and she was back to her powerless self. Weak. Pathetic. She hoped it would be fast.

And then she heard the scream.

It wasn't the bloodcurdling shriek of a damsel in distress. It wasn't the guttural roar of a super mutant. It was the one scream that always brought the hairs on the back of her neck to attention. Ferals.

Suddenly, they were surrounded. Skeletal beings with sagging flesh and their rancid bouquet were glorious saviors to her predicament. She responded promptly. She drove her knee as hard as she could into the mercenary's groin and headbutted his chin with enough force that her head throbbed in protest. Emmett stumbled backward and she swung her duct-taped wrists with all the momentum of her body into the side of his face, the screen of her pipboy coming into full contact with his skull. The man went out like a candle.

The ferals around her seemed to prefer taking on the sleeping men by the campfire. It was like a zombie apocalypse. Men screamed in pain as they were clawed and mauled by the delirious ghouls. Guns fired and curses echoed off the tunnel walls while the starved creatures howled with pleasure as they overwhelmed Talon Company. One had dug its hands into the lower abdomen of the young man named Dice, who moaned in bewildered blood loss bliss while the feral played with his intestines. She refocused on Emmett's body and began searching his pants for the feel of a blade. She found one and began trying to cut her constraints, which was a lot harder than she initially thought.

She had to kneel down and hold the knife in between her legs as she sawed her wrists over the blade, head snapping up and around her surroundings to be sure she wasn't next on the pack's dessert menu. She hissed when the blade penetrated into her skin but she wrenched her right hand free of the sticky adhesive and ripped the tape off her skin like a very large and very painful bandage.

She went for his ankle pistol, turning the safety off and holding it out as she began to back away. Gunshots had stopped. All that was left was the sound of lips smacking as the ferals started eating the bloody remnants of their latest kill. She crouched and hid behind a corner, not daring to make a sound. She counted fifteen of them, still alive. There had been more that had taken the bullets of the seven men who had all died. But all that were left were still far too many for her to handle. She noticed some had armor on. One illuminated the tunnel with its bright green brilliance.

She swallowed and kept herself still. The fire was still lit. And one pair of footsteps stood out of the wheezing and slobbering of the feral ghouls. Hard soled boots on cold concrete echoed into her ears. She held her breath.

He emerged. Like a tall demon, he calmly walked towards her, his pale eyes their own source of fire as they stared through her in the darkness. The flames illuminated his remaining hair, bright red like blood and rust. He has nice cheekbones, she realized, never noticing before in the daylight.

"Charon." She stepped out, forgetting where they were. It felt like she was in a dream. "You came for me."

Before he could respond, a feral finally noticed her and began sprinting towards her. Bare feet crunching into gravel. Charon turned and the sound of his gun exploded like a cannon, the emaciated creature flying away in a spray of gore and guts. He turned to her. "We should leave. It's not safe here."

She started toward him. She felt her cheeks dripping wet. She couldn't help but smile as she threw her arms around his waist, squeezing him tight as she buried her face into his chest. "Thank you." He stiffened but she continued to cling to him. "Seriously. Thank you."

"You are my employer. It is my responsibility to keep you safe. And safety is getting out of this tunnel before the ferals realize you're not a ghoul."

She pulled back, too relieved to be disappointed by his typical response. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

(Necro)

She had remained quiet the entire journey back to Underworld. He had expected her to explain what had happened. He had expected her to ask questions about how he had found her. He had expected her to be her usual inquisitive, curious self. She had failed to meet these expectations.

Instead, she seemed to be lost in deep daydreams. She had a vacant expression and would stumble from not paying attention to where she was walking more often. She would stop their journey to stare at the sunrise, hand on her upper arm as she looked on at the bright orange sun break through the neon pink sky, partially pierced by the tall pillar of the Washington Monument. She merely held a timid appreciative frown on her lips.

Finally, as they approached the Museum of History, he decided to be the one to break the silence.

"Ma'am. Who is Burke?"

She stopped. Turned her head. Eyes widened. "How do you know about him?"

He didn't like how afraid she sounded. "I heard the bounty hunters mention his name. I need to know to better protect you. Who is Burke?"

She kicked some loose pebbles, shoving her hands into her pockets. "He's some guy that was planning on detonating the Megaton bomb. So I... convinced him to change his mind. I went no contact since. Maybe he heard about me making that bomb incapable of ever exploding and maybe he thinks I'm a lying snake-at least, that's what his last letter said-but who knows why he has it in for me." She threw him a half-hearted chuckle but he didn't feel like laughing. "Guess he took it personally."

"How did you convince him?" She had said she hadn't slept with him to the mercenaries. But that didn't necessarily have to be the truth. He already had some images in his head. Images he didn't like. He imagined this Burke piece of shit, blackmailing her with threats of wiping out an entire city if she didn't comply. Like that piece of shit in the tunnel.

"Geeze, Charon, can we talk about this later?" She went to fix her hair, letting her thick bun fall down her back, and began rebraiding and winding. She kept her eyes focused off toward the mall. Her back was turned to him. They stood by for minutes in this painful silence, neither one willing to break the ice.

"By the way," she finally spared him from the tension, "Call me Leah. You don't need to call me ma'am or miss or boss or anything like that. Just Leah. Or Doc. Doc is fine."

"Fine, Leah."

He caught her ears burning red despite the continued shameful hiding of her face from his gaze. He had caught the glimpse of her cheeks puffing out from a smile growing on her face. She tried to hide it from him, but he could tell. It made his pulse quicken in a way he wasn't used to. What was that word she used before? For that giant ant?

"Cute."

She spun around, eyebrow arched. "What?"

"What you called the ant you couldn't shoot. Cute."

She blinked, registering what he was saying. "Yes. They are cute."

"No. They're not. I don't think you know what the word 'cute' means."

She let out a huff, smirking. "Well, that's just your opinion. I'll have you know that I have a friend who thinks mole rats are cute. Mole rats!" He noticed the bruises on her wrists. Her armor looked worn and her eyes had shadows that weren't normally there.

He didn't dare tell her, but he had seen what that merc had tried to do to her. He had planned on waiting until the bounty hunters had been sleeping for an hour before unleashing the hoard of ferals onto them, until his anger got the best of him and he ordered the assault to interrupt the rape.

Most of his life he had been a ghoul. Ugly. Undesirable. But that meant that people left him and his kind alone unless they were carrying something that some asshole wanted to steal. It wasn't a perfect life, by any means, but it was bearable. Easier.

About twenty years ago, Ahzrukhal had been going through a smoothskin phase. He kept ordering Charon to 'recruit' some vulnerable smoothskin women who would be desperate enough to fuck the bartender in exchange for caps, chems, protection, or whatever was needed at the time. He had despised that period of his life, especially, because Ahzrukahl seemed to find more satisfaction with the fact that Charon hated being his flesh trafficker. Ahzrukhal especially loved tasking him with assignments that he morally objected to but was incapable of refusing. The bartender always seemed to get an extra kick when Charon showed any hint that he wasn't happy with dragging a trembling young smoothskin to become Ahzrukhal's little plaything. Sometimes, he had been forced to watch.

It opened his eyes to the fact that life was a lot shittier for others out in this godforsaken Capital Wasteland than his. When no one wanted to fuck him, it sure was better than everyone wanting to.

His thoughts were interrupted by Leah tripping and falling onto her face. He shook his head, holding back some snide remarks that naturally rolled on his tongue.

Life was usually cruel to everyone. It was especially evil to those who were weak. Vulnerable. And for a vault-dwelling woman with no talent for combat? A clumsy, scatterbrained kid who preferred to smoke jet and read comic books and hated killing? A cute smoothskin woman like her? Their world took all things 'cute' and kind like her and did everything it could to sink its teeth into them. His fists clenched, the image of that man pushing her against the bricks with one hand going for his belt seared into his vision like an eye floater he couldn't blink away.

He didn't want her to have to go through that again. She, of all people, didn't deserve that. This was a way of redemption. He would never just standby and watch her suffer. Not unless she commanded it.

"We should get back to Underworld. You need to rest. And eat." He reached out to her, putting his hand onto her shoulder. He tapped her back briefly before pulling his hand back to his side. Risky move, but it was his way of testing the water. She didn't flinch. She hardly seemed to register the significance of his gesture. It was the first time he ever touched an employer that wasn't out of necessity.

She let out a great yawn, covering her mouth. "You're right. I'm ready to just curl into a bed and sleep for a week. Ugh. But we probably can't do that now, can we?" She looked up to him with a saddened reality that she wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. "All right. Let's get my things and figure out what to do next. I'm sure Talon Company are probably going to wait outside of Megaton too. Fuck." She rubbed her eyes. After moments of her fuming, she looked up with a heightened clarity in her eye. "We've probably got a couple of hours before Burke and his men realize that I'm not visiting. Let's hurry and get my things and scram." She began to put one foot in front of the other, leading the way back to town.

He followed the owner of his contract. He scanned their surroundings, a newfound desire to keep danger and suffering far away from her. Among the various firsts she had done, it dawned on him that she was the first employer he truly wanted to protect, contract or no.

(Necro)

She arrived back in Underworld to the greetings of gaped mouths and saucer-shaped eyes. Her warm reception made her feel like she had risen from the dead. She waved Winthrop who looked about ready to weep tears of joy while nodding at Snowflake who had stared at his jet inhaler briefly as if to believe she was a drug-induced hallucination and not standing in the flesh in front of him.

She went straight to Carol's Place, Charon on her heels.

Doors open, everyone who had been mumbling to their dining partners had muffled out into a whisper. She knew what they were probably thinking. She was still alive and came back, and thus, she would bring trouble back to them. She was used to people feeling this way. She didn't harbor too much resentment over it. This was survival.

Willow and Cerberus, alone, could not take on Talon Company.

That was why she had decided to simply retrieve her bag which she had left there and go on her way. She could rest elsewhere. There were plenty of abandoned buildings Charon and she could hunker down in.

"Leah!" Carol had run around the bar counter and wrapped Leah into a warm embrace, rubbing the back of her head like the mother she never knew. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Carol, but thank you." She rubbed the woman's back, feeling warm wetness on her neck and ears as the woman sobbed quietly against her. "I'm fine. I promise. Charon took care of me."

In between the sniffles and sobs, Carol softly addressed the former bouncer. "Thank you, Charon. I don't know what I would have done if I lost Leah."

"Carol," Leah put her hand onto the woman's cheek, wiping the tears leaking down it. "Charon and I can't stay long. Did you have any letters you wanted Gob to have? We are going to head out in an hour."

"But-you just got here."

"I know, but Talon Company knows where to find me here. It's safer if we just stay on the move for now. And if they ask, tell them I'm going back home to Megaton. And you'll see me again soon. After I sort this bounty out." She gave the maternal ghoul one final hug before gathering her bag. It had gotten lighter after all the unloading of her original delivery. It was the little things that kept her going.

"Leah," Carol handed her a small box with a bundle of envelopes wrapped in twine on top. "Stay safe. I've put some cookies in there. I love you, sweetie."

"I love you, Carol." Leah gave the woman one final hug before taking her leave.

She made the rounds, explaining her planned absence to Dr. Barrows and Nurse Graves, promising to continue field research while apologizing to Winthrop for having to leave without helping out with the upkeep of Underworld's utilities. Wishes for her to stay alive and return in one piece were expressed through gifts of medical supplies and the reminder to 'lay off the chems'.

When they made their leave, Willow waved towards them. Leah waved back, noticing Charon did not bother to even look at his old friend's direction.

Leah and Charon went into the subway tunnels, with no direction in mind.