Scribble scribble scribble
A ringlet of hair was curled around a finger; some angry scritch scratch of a pen over paper.
"Whatcha writin'?" Cross lifted himself partway to stare at her blearily, then he glanced at the clock. "It's three in the mornin', what's so important you have to jot it down?"
The notebook was held away from his sticky fingers.
"Just…stuff." She shrugged, and she leaned a little farther as he stretched out to nab at it.
"Can I read it?" he asked ironically.
An incredulous stare. "Um, no?" she said in an obvious tone.
He brought his hand back to scratch at the back of his head. "Hm." He set himself back down and just watched her; she returned to her private thoughts and crinkled her forehead in concentration. She was silently mouthing words and performing small hand gestures as she continued to write.
"Huh, they should've told us there were radroaches in this room."
She immediately flew into him. "What?! Where?"
There was a rustling of pages as he snatched away her writings. "Oldest trick in the book."
She opened her mouth to protest and crawled over him; a large palm cupped over her face and held her back as her fingers wiggled helplessly in the air for her journal. A muffle of words.
"Huh?" He blinked at her, lifting the heel off her lips. "What?"
She gave an annoyed huff. "I said, if it's the oldest then it must have been written by you." He pressed his hand back flush, and she was reduced back to garbled mutterings of mpffgr!
He turned to open the book, carefully cradling the yellowed pages with his fingers. There were random scribblings and stanzas on multiple pages; he used his thumb and pinky finger to slowly curl the leaves over. One had a faded, pencil drawing of a woman's face; it was a beautiful sketch, and he recognized it as her. With her crude drawings, he very much doubted she was the artist. A flip, and there was a small verse he read aloud. "They have asked me to worship their Gods; what happens when you have slain them all?"
Another flip, and Evelyn finally drew herself backward from his grasp. "Stop."
His eyes were busily reading a poem. "Did you write these?"
She sunk back into her pillow and hid her face away in her hands. "Yes."
He nudged her with an elbow. "Why're you so embarrassed?"
"They're, personal."
"The portrait?"
A sad voice. "No, I didn't sketch it." She didn't offer any more explanation on the mystery illustrator, and he left it.
He finally felt like he had a small piece of her he could attempt to make sense of; he continued to read, and she poked him in the side. "Can I please have it back?"
"Not done."
"I don't want you to read all of it." Her voice was colored with mortification. "Please."
She was using that cute, doe-eyed look, and he couldn't help but give a quick look at her. He gave a sigh. "I'll read fast."
"Ugh!"
The writings were very, different, from the Evelyn that normally spoke and acted. He was brought back to their night in the cabin, and the way she had looked at him in the glow of the candlelight. It was like she was staring at him now, through the pages, and he shivered. It was almost like her.
"Any of these about me?" he curiously asked. When he was met with silence, he turned his head and cheekily grinned; she was brilliantly pink. "Which page?"
"No, not telling. Give it back, or I'll make you." An empty threat.
He merely blew air from his cheeks and flipped along. "The guessin' game it is."
"You're awful."
He winked at her and chuckled. "That's not what you've been sayin' these past few days; think you'll finally be walkin' tomorrow?"
If they weren't in the established relationship that they had, he knew he would have been a dead man by her homicidal glare. Instead, she rolled over and scooted away from him. "Fine, whatever, try and figure it out. You're sleeping on your own from now on."
The book was snapped shut instantly.
Decades of being without a woman's touch affected Charon more than he had cared to realize, and it was catching up to him faster than he had anticipated. By their third day in Saint Silverton, he was irritable and sullen from his insatiable need.
Creak
The wooden post he was leaning against sighed warningly under his weight. With his arms crossed and face murderous, one would think to leave him to his solitary post.
"Hey." Evelyn came along beside him, and he exhaled angrily. "Oh my God, fine, I'll leave."
A touch: he grabbed at her hand before she could depart, and he rubbed at his eyes. "I apologize; I am not upset with you." He could visibly witness the hostile reaction melt from her body.
Evelyn forcefully cleared her throat, nodding her head to the bounty hunter and Lydia in the distance; the merc was teaching her how to shoot properly, and the younger woman was rapidly improving. "How come you never taught me?"
"You never asked," Charon rumbled, eager for the diversion. He shifted his weight to the other foot. "I do not think you would have learned, regardless. It would be a waste of time." He said it so matter-of-factly she gaped at him.
"That's so rude!" she shrilled. "I mean, yeah, I suck! But isn't that the whole point of practicing? To get better?"
"You have other talents that do not require your time." He glanced down at her. "You did very well with those slavers- if you had not been present, we may not have been able to escape."
She blushed a shade of pink and bit her lower lip. "Yeah, well, you taught me some good things."
The memory of their first sparring session popped into his brain; the ferryman inwardly chuckled. He had taught her some basic combat skills; she had broken his wrist. That night she had refused to stop apologizing until he had finally snapped at her. "I did."
"So humble," she quipped, shaking at her scalp with both hands. Her hair went flying around her voluminously. "Why are you so angry? You look like you're about to kill someone."
The ghoul deeply sighed, recrossing his arms to their rightful place. He did not want to lie to her, but he necessarily did not want to answer. "They were planning on selling you to a client in Braxton." He peered at her. "Do you still wish to continue?"
A second shade, the one he was most familiar with- red. "Why would that stop me? I would have killed them all anyway."
A dark chortle. "Yes, I am sure you would have." Still, he did not like to theorize Evelyn in that sort of situation; things can always go from bad to worse. There was still a tinge of yellow and purple bruising across her face from where she had been struck. His hand automatically reached out and stroked the surface of her cheek. "I am sorry I could not protect you."
"I'm not your burden anymore, remember?" she weakly joked. "Besides, pretty sure it's mostly from you."
He did not find it funny. "I am sorry."
A slight hobble forward, and she was nestled under his arms. "I know," she muffled into his armor, and he gave her a light squeeze.
A piercing ting! Lydia had shot her target a dozen yards away; the merc gave her a pat on the shoulder blade and then mouthed some inaudible suggestions about her feet.
"She's pretty good," Evelyn observed.
"She is," the ghoul agreed. He felt her making small shuffling movements of her feet. "Are you hurt? You are walking like you are injured." Her face burst into a third shade- purple; he grunted and let her go awkwardly. "He is much too rough with you."
"Charon-"
The ferryman's eyes scoped across the empty field to where his employer stood. "Does he force you?"
"No! Oh my God, please stop."
"If he ever requests something of you that you do not wish to reciprocate-"
She waved her hands dramatically at him. "STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP-Charon, butt out of my sex life-"
"-and if I were honest with you…I would rather he not, touch you, in that way. It makes me uncomfortable knowing he does. It can be dangerous…he can be dangerous."
She gave an exasperated laugh, moaning loudly into the cold, morning air. "What did I say about this?! STOP- you're making me uncomfortable." She appeared to want to say something more, but her face was glowing crimson and she just stamped her foot angrily. "UGH!"
A trudge of heavy footsteps lumbered behind them through the damp stalks of grass. "Hell you bitchin' so loud for?" the merc grumbled, completely ignorant to the conversation. His hands were rummaging inside of his pockets. "Go get me that damn rifle of yours, and my pack of smokes- fuckin' left it on the bedstand."
A light sprinkle of rain began to shower down, but no one seemed to mind.
Evelyn whirled on the bounty hunter, the steam from her built-up fluster whistling over the unsuspecting ghoul. "Get it your fucking self."
The rustle inside of his coat paused, the unnecessary hopeful search for a cigarette put on standby as he refocused his attention on the woman furiously stalking down the dirt path back into town. Cross shot the stoic ghoul to his side a dirty look.
"Fuck was that? Fuck were you two talkin' 'bout?" A lethal glower was the only response the merc was given, and all that he would receive without verbally commanding Charon to answer otherwise.
Lydia was oblivious to the drama unfolding far off to the side, and she could only blink at the perfect shot she had shattered the beer bottle with. She smeared at the raindrops slowly trickling down her face, but she could not wipe away the smile that was beginning to illuminate.
"Hey!" A call out from the open doorway of Guns n' Nuts, and a familiar crack of a smile. "Cazador, mind lending a hand?"
Evelyn shook the rain from her shoulders as she stepped inside the establishment, the tangy odor of gun powder coating her tongue. "What?" Her deadly tone halted the mercenary for a moment, before he grinned and slapped her shoulder.
"Cross piss you off?" A joke, and then a loud sniff as he walked her to the front counter. "Come check this out."
"This here the superhuman mutant?" A heavily southern drawl asked from behind the counter. The gun shop owner gave a critical stare of Evelyn while raising a cup to his lips, dark spittle dribbling inside. "Sorry to say, ma'am, but ya ain't look like much."
"Oh, trust me-" Campbell's lower face was swept up in a wide smile. "-you'll about shit yourself, Gerb."
Gerb gave a shrug, lowering his makeshift spittoon to his side. "It's back here." A fist was raised to the heavy-set man's mouth. A belch. "'cuse me- I told Campbell I'd give him the Ol' Regulator if he could pop this damn thing open-" A nub of a missing finger drifted lazily to a large safe in the corner. "-I busted the damn lock few months back, no one's been able to crack inside." A raised eyebrow appraised her. "Think you can manage?"
Tch tch- whir
The merc grumbled under his breath irately as he fiddled with the thermal scope on Evelyn's rifle- it was inoperative. A sigh, and the weapon was slung around his shoulder as he made his way from their room. There was a sqwash of his boots sinking into the mud as he made his way to the only gun retailer in town.
A fwick of his cowboy hat as his two fingers arced the damp headgear through the air, whisking away the drops of rain in a straight line on the ground before settling it back atop his head. Gerb was absent from behind his usual post at the counter, the sound of voices wafting from the back room.
SHIINCK
The merc leaned in the doorway and crossed his arms, a scritch scritch of his fingers at his chin to announce his presence to the two men. Evelyn was preoccupied with working a crowbar into an advantageous position for leverage, and the ghoul felt the bizarre wave of déjà vu tingle his brain. The bar came forward, and then back, and she gave a snort of effort as she heaved.
BANG
"Oof!" Evelyn stumbled backward as the door slammed violently open, throwing her off balance. A small sneeze, and she wafted her hand in front of her face as the disturbed cloud of dust tickled her nose.
"I'll be darned." Gerb blew his nose into his hand. "Think Ol' Regulator belongs to you."
Campbell let out a sigh. "Would reckon he's right."
"Would be a damn waste of a nice gun." Cross coughed into a fist.
Evelyn got to her feet and slapped away the dust accumulated to her pants. "That's okay," she said plainly with a shrug. "I don't need it." The bar made a high-pitched fwing as it was swung through the empty air.
"Let's go take her off the shelf, then." Gerb turned around, scratching at an elbow. "Whatcha need, Cross?"
The rifle was tossed and caught. "Thermal scope. Needs replacin', ya got one lyin' around?"
"I do…for a bit of caps- they ain't cheap by any means."
"The rifle is mine." Evelyn jutted her chin at the gun as she made her way to the blocked doorframe. "Can I get a discount?"
Gerb raised an eyebrow, his thumb clicking at the scope for troubleshooting purposes. "In that case, I do happen to have one lying around."
"Are you going to fucking move?" Evelyn growled at the shrouded ghoul; his glowing eyes made a quick assessment of her fingers tapping against the metal bar.
A sigh, and he unenthusiastically shuffled from her path. "Was hopin' that safe would've taken the piss out of ya."
"I know what will," she snapped, striding past him as her clenched hand tightened its grip.
A thump of gloved hands settled on her shoulders, and the merc cautiously steered her outside. "Remember, we don't want to get banned from this town…so stop lookin' like you're about to fuckin' slug the first face ya see, particularly mine." They were in an empty alleyway, and he spun her around, carefully taking the crowbar and setting it against the brick wall from her reach. "Hell's your problem? Charon's already fuckin' pissed…motherfucker won't stop growlin', like a damn dog."
"Are you taking me to Braxton?" She wouldn't meet his stare, and kept her own trained off to the side.
He just stood there dumbfoundedly as she fidgeted in place angrily for a few moments. Water streamlined down the sides of his hat, and when she finally brought her eyes up to meet with his, for once, she could not read the thoughts on his face.
"The weather is fine for travel, and yet, these past few days you've been gone doing something else. You unpacked my fucking bag while I was sleeping this morning, so are you taking me to Braxton, or not?"
The merc released a shaky sigh, reaching up to rub at his eyes with gloved fingers. "I am…you feelin' good enough to walk then?"
Evelyn went to reply, but then snapped her jaw shut as the gears in her brain spun around rapidly. "Oh my fucking GOD, did you…is that-" Charon had been right- he was too rough with her, but she did not ever come to think it would have been for intentional reasons. Her voice trembled. "-you fuck! Did you honestly fucking think you were just going to keep me here?! Like I would somehow, forget, what we were doing?!"
A muffled, sad chuckle drifted from under the dark shadow of the brim of his hat.
"How the fuck is that funny to you?!" The weight of her palms pressed themselves flush against his barreled chest, and she gave him a rough shove into the wall. "Cross, what the fuck do you want?!"
"…you."
"Don't you dare say that!" she snarled. "Don't you dare-"
Her explosive tirade was interrupted as his mouth smashed against hers, and he spun her around to be flush against the wall. The desperate clutch of his fingers gripped around her waist and neck, and there was a taste of something salty melding with the drops of rain against his tongue. Forcibly, he drew his lips from hers, and she was crying.
"What do you want?" Evelyn sobbed, and it was with such emotion he felt a painful squeeze in his chest. "Do you love me, or not?"
The words instantly triggered a burn down his spine, and he blinked as he found his hold on her given away. Slowly, the curve of his gloved thumb rose up to swipe away at the tears melting with the rain down her cheeks.
"Do you?" he asked huskily.
A moment of silence, and then her answer. It blew into him like a close-range shot to the chest. "Yes."
"Goddamnit." He clutched his hands desperately at his head, turning in a small circle and closing his eyes. "Evelyn, why the fuck are we doin' this?! You said it yourself- Darcy means nothin' to you, so why?!"
Her eyes now grew distant, and she just shrugged.
"Holy fuck." His palms placed their weight on her shoulders. "Please, don't do this to me. Don't go to Braxton."
"Then don't come."
He released her as though she had struck him; he had to redirect his hands to flex at his sides as the strong urge to hit her welled up. "You're fuckin' selfish, you know that? A goddamn child." He pointed a finger threateningly in her face. "A fuckin' child."
"That makes two of us." No remorse, no fury. Nothing.
"Just tell me why, then- give me that much," he snarled.
Silence.
He laughed, running his hand across his face bitterly. "You say you love me, and not even a fuckin' why."
Finally, a flood of anger- something. He could not fucking stand that lack of empathy from her. It wasn't Evelyn. It was not her book of poems, her sharp tongue, her bouncing laugh. It was the spirit of another woman possessing her; one that was playing a silent siren's call to her death.
She suddenly exploded at him. "You fucking-"
"If-if…goddamnit-" The ghoul angrily rubbed at his jaw, and then proceeded to laugh almost manically.
The ocean wave crashed down upon him, and he was carried out with the high tide.
"If I told you that I fuckin' love you, will-" He then removed his hand and his voice choked. "Fuck it, Evelyn, don't fuckin' go, okay? Just-just, stay with me, is that enough for you?"
Her face smoothed into stone. Darcy was watching him through those eyes.
"I-goddamnit-I want to be with you for the rest of my fuckin' life." He took a step towards her, his face pleading. "I loved Amelia, and she's gone." His voice sounded like he was crying, but there were no tears. "I can't go through that again, okay? It's not fuckin' fair-fuck-I sometimes wish I had never met you, just so I don't have to be afraid of losin' you."
Another step.
"There's only two things that scare me more than God on this Earth- that's goin' feral, and the other is the day you leave me. Please, don't leave me." His fingers were now brushing against her cheeks, and he brought them back to rub against his mouth to stem the immense emotion he felt.
"I am not the one afraid of facing my past," she whispered.
"It's…it's not-ugh, it's…Evelyn, damn, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-I can't-" He turned away from her and relentlessly rubbed at his eyes with both hands. "Just don't go. I'm tryin' here, I really am."
"I will never be Amelia- I know that," she said coldly. "I'm sorry I can't take that pain away from you- I know how losing someone you love feels… I've learned to move on…but…I do love you, I really fucking do."
He stood there, shaking violently, and she turned to walk away. His voice was extremely thick. "She was all I had…I-I- didn't deserve her. We-we were goin' to have a kid- a fuckin' baby, together. Evelyn. I can't ever give you somethin' like that, fuck, I can't give you a lot. I'm sorry. I can only give you what's left- please, don't leave with it."
"Do you think you could ever love me, for just me?" She was crying again, and it was with such heartbreak that he had never heard before. She sounded so young.
His body turned to take her in fully. "I…I want to love you, I really do." The tip of his tongue went slightly numb from the raw confession. There was no lie, there. "Please, let me try."
"You can't say you don't want me to leave and then say you're trying to love me; you-you can't just make love to me and not feel anything for me! Did any of those moments actually mean anything to you?!"
He grew still. "Each and every one."
"Then why?!"
A half-hearted shrug, he looked utterly defeated. His eyes half-squinted as he tried to read something in her face. "I-I don't know."
"You-" She bit back a sob. "-you should have never come back for me."
"Don't fuckin' say that." He took a step forward and she took a step back. "We are not goin' to go through that again."
She threw her hands up in the air, exasperatedly crying. "I should have never come searching for you; I should have never started this!" She clenched her fists and dropped his gaze. "I don't want to love you."
For the third time in his life, his heart broke. He said nothing- what could he say to that?
"Please, just go." She sobbed into herself. "You don't love me; it should be easy for you."
Now she just lifted her foot and completely smashed the remaining pieces he was fumbling to gather together. If he felt this destroyed by just her words, didn't that mean he loved her? But-
"T-that poem, you wrote about me-" His mouth felt so dry when he talked, he wasn't sure he would be able to finish his thoughts, "-say it to me."
A shake of her head, and she kept her eyes screwed shut against her tears. Her hands were busily wiping all over her face.
"I-I don't know all the words- I'll just fuck it up. Please, tell it to me."
"No. I want to rip that page out and burn it."
He gave a choked cough, and he set his hands on his hips and took deep breaths. He hadn't cried the day since the bombs had fallen- he was not going to start now.
"Give me Charon's contract back; we're going to leave." She opened her eyes and breathed shakily. "Now."
"No."
"I'm not asking."
They said nothing for a while, and he gave a shuddering sigh and slapped his hands at his sides. "So…so that's it, then?"
How was he supposed to just let her go- her wild hair, that wide smile, the infectious laugh. A sharp retort, a heated argument, a breathy sigh.
His voice was tight. "Tell me why you love me first…and I'll let you go." No lie there, either.
They stood there under the shower of rain, much like their reunion in Lake Capers; she looked utterly devastated. For once, she appeared to have nothing to say.
He shakily whispered, "you love me, Evelyn; I want to return that to you- I just don't know how, anymore. Please, show me how."
"I-I…" she cried, "I love you, for how dumb you are- you're so clever that you're stupid. You-you-" She waved out to the empty air. "-you're a fucking goon, you make me laugh at the worst moments-" Her voice broke. "-yo-you're so sure of yourself, you're a mercenary badass-" She rubbed at her eyes. "-I love how you make love to me, and how much you want me, and the way you always look at me, like I'm the one thing you need in your life to live." She slowly went down to her knees and cried her heart out. "I love you so fucking much it hurts."
The tip of his hat followed her on her journey down. "I've been called a lot of things, but never a goon."
And there it was, a laugh she did not want to give, but give it she did. It was exhausted, and it was stained in tears. He rubbed his jaw and crouched down before her. The leather texture of his palms cradled the soft skin of her face, and they shared a slow, burning desperation for each other through the caress of their lips.
A crinkle, and they broke apart as he glanced down dumbly at the tattered paper folded into her hand. He gave a choked gasp, and felt an icy grip in the pit of his stomach.
She left.
