One Year Ago
Their first encounter was…hard work. He was quickly learning a lot about her, in that first week.
She was reckless.
It had been some months now since he had to face the dangers of the wasteland with a contract holder at his side; Moria had chosen to keep him secluded in Megaton after he made excursions for her in gathering odd requests for her deranged, experimental habit. Traveling solo was much more leisurely than with another thinking, decision making, unpredictable, person at his side.
The first whizzing bullet barely missed her; the ghoul grabbed at the collar of her jacket and threw her flat to the ground. She rolled over onto her backside as he laid himself atop of her, slowly peering his head over their cover. She was squirming underneath him and snarling out remarks about his chosen defense tactic; he simply ignored her and spied the assailant ducking behind the open doorframe of a car.
"Where is your gun?" the ghoul implored, and she only gave him a blank stare.
"I don't have one."
There was a shower of dirt sprinkled over them from the nearby explosion of a grenade; Charon didn't so much as flinch. "You what?"
"I can't shoot for shit, okay?!" Evelyn bit out, suddenly flustered and extremely angry at her own lack of skill. "I don't need one."
The crimson ghoul merely blinked at her; his brain could not comprehend her possibility of survival without a ranged weapon. Another downpour of silt, and they both had not moved from their positions.
"Here- just, watch-"
He seized at her jaw before she could scurry away. "Stay."
The ghoul then ducked out, sprinting for a better position to return fire. A flurry of movement in his peripherals; she left her well-shielded spot, parkouring around some debris and drifting along the side of a building. He lost sight of her and went to give chase, but a few gunshots forced him to remain in place. He had to neutralize the enemy quickly if he was to confirm her safety. Lowering himself into a crouch, he began to shimmy along behind his chosen cover of a concrete guardrail, until audible shouts drew his head over.
She had beaten him to it; she had purposely left him as bait, and she was sprinting full force at the door frame of the car. She cried out as a bullet nailed her in the bicep, but she didn't falter as she body-slammed herself into the car door. It slammed shut with incredible force, and the man exploded into a gory spectacle.
The ghoul didn't stop to appreciate the violent display; his employer was hurt, and she needed aid.
"Ow, fuck!" She bit down on her lower lip; a rivulet of blood dripped for her efforts. She was making her way back to their previous position, going for her discarded pack.
Charon was already before her, roughly grabbing at her wrist. She smacked him away.
"Ow, Jesus, that fucking hurt!" she growled at him. "I need my bag."
He blinked at her, emotionless. With a pivot on his heel, he retrieved her things as she sat down and removed her jacket. Blood pooled down the sleeve of her shirt, and she winced as she bundled the ends of it in her hands.
She let out a shuddering breath, clearly in pain. "Can…can you help me? My arm, fucking hurts." She then held her arms gingerly before her, and he understood.
Without betraying any emotion, he grabbed at the underside of her clothing and pulled her long-sleeve shirt over her head, discarding it at their feet. He did not bother turning around to grant her privacy as she rummaged her good hand through her medkit; it was not safe to not keep tabs on her.
A pair of thin pliers were pulled out, and she bit back a cry as she dug around inside the exposed flesh and muscle. Her arm was spasming, and the ghoul forcibly overlaid his palm over hers, gripping her smaller hand tightly as he steadied their probing. She was going to exercise more damage, than good, if not assisted. His other hand encircled over the backside of her bicep, and he ignored her tears as he felt the clink of the metal and carefully extracted the bullet. It gave a crystal tinkle, bouncing off the asphalt.
"Can-can you-?"
She did not need to finish her sentence; he already had a stimpak and injected the site where he thought would be best. They both waited there for a few minutes, the coursing medicine stitching up her flesh.
The ghoul's faded eyes continuously scouted the area; they were the only souls around.
Her braid fell to the wayside as she leaned forward and cradled her head in her hands, her eyes closed. He immediately thought it was a rather poor decision; she should have stretched her chest open and sat up straight, allowing ample airflow through her lungs to alleviate the nausea she must have felt. But he did not voice his suggestions; it was not his job.
There were a few scars across her naked skin that he identified as either bullet marks, or sharp edges of a blade. Her small act of foolish abandon was not uncommon, then.
The Present
"Throw Rick in the last cell in Block B- he has some questions I want answered when the time is right. Get this to Jena, I want everything downloaded and analyzed." Thomas was acting as the conductor to his orchestra of chaotic symphonies. His hand cut through the air as he barked out orders and took in new information in a multitasking fashion. "Someone's had to have seen something." He met with the eyes of the bounty hunter and jutted his chin to his office. "We have much to discuss."
The door closed, and Thomas took a seat behind his desk, tapping his fingers together in pensive thought.
"I was well informed as to your…situation, for lack of a better term, with Evelyn." The glowing ghoul blinked slowly at the merc, and then narrowed his eyes at the splatter of blood on the far wall from his earlier transgression. "Did you know Darcy was her mother?"
Cross was standing before the window, grinding his jaw. "…yeah," he finally said in a defeated voice, "she told me."
"Did you tell her that you killed her?"
A gloved hand came up and rubbed over his eyes, and he said nothing.
Thomas snorted and gave a loud tsk. "Did you tell her anything?"
"Why the fuck did Darcy want you dead so badly?" Cross growled, redirecting the conversation as he turned around. "Who was she to you?"
The glowing ghoul drew his eyes to slits, but he was not as stand-offish as the merc was. Any sort of information may well lead to clues on Evelyn's whereabouts, and if digging at the past was the method to gain new knowledge, then Thomas saw no valuable need to withhold any longer.
"David had...persuaded me, to bring Evelyn back to Braxton-"
The merc's palm froze as it rubbed against his jaw, and there was visible confusion written over his face. "You knew Evelyn?" He supposed it made sense, seeing as Thomas had a past connection with Darcy.
"Indeed, I did." The glowing ghoul did not care to share his romantic past with the merc; nothing good was bound to come from that conversation.
"Why did that fuck want her here?"
A shrug, and the glowing ghoul steepled his fingers together. "If he were still alive, perhaps I would have asked him…but with the fact that Evelyn is gone, it makes me wonder if someone is acting out on his behalf," Thomas continued. "What are you covering up for Rick?"
Cross made his way to leave, visibly aggravated. "Ask him your damn self." The office door slammed behind him.
The bounty hunter was refrained from performing his own investigation; as much as it was internally killing him inside, he knew they were on a good enough trail as any. He was secluded with the others back inside the conference room as the whirlwind of activity stormed outside.
He couldn't bring himself to look at Charon; he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop himself from shooting him in the face.
How could he just let her leave? In every single way, Charon's retell of their mysterious encounter made absolutely no fucking sense to the merc. Charon was more apt to chew off his own arm than even consider allowing Evelyn to come to some form of danger.
"Did she order you to stay behind?" The merc hadn't realized he had spoken until his voice vibrated through his own ears.
"Yes."
"And yet you let her fuckin' go?"
A warning growl, and the bounty hunter turned to the sound, finally facing the other ghoul fully since he had assaulted him earlier that day. "Why the fuck did you let her leave?! You knew better, you knew somethin' like this would fuckin' happen, and now she's gone!"
"For the same reason you did." Charon didn't have to speak another word; his eyes spoke for themselves, and Cross had to turn away from what he had seen.
It was so obvious the ferryman was in love with her; hell, it made sense, and it was quite discernable to him now thinking back on their past travels together. Sure, she was his employer- whatever the fuck that meant- but Charon didn't give a shit about the bounty hunter when he was his contract holder. If the ferryman could, Cross was sure Charon would try and throw a noose over his neck and push the chair out from under his feet.
Charon cared for Evelyn, in many ways the bounty hunter wasn't sure he himself could, and the worst part was, Evelyn fucking knew it. It was how she was able to leave, because Charon couldn't pull himself from her endless well.
And now she was gone- and there was always the possibility that she may never come back.
Charon gave a shaky exhale, his gaze thrown to the side. "She…she wanted to me to tell you-" The ferryman had to pause for a moment, and his words might as well have been bullets, for Cross felt them slug at his chest. "-that she is sorry."
The door burst open. "We found something!"
Eleven Months Ago
Whir whir
Fingertips gently stroked over the multitude of scratches and dings of the Pip-Boy 3000; the corner tip of a knob was missing, but she loved it all the same.
"This will be extremely helpful- thank you…are you sure you're willing to part with it?" Evelyn nervously asked, flitting her eyes from the screen to the elderly woman seated across from her.
"Honey, I don't see myself to be buried with the dang thing. I'm just glad it's going to someone who'll put it to good use- it's got a lot more life left in it than me, that's for dang sure."
They left the small shack settled in the outer part of town; Evelyn spied a tattered vault suit hanging in a closet before the door closed behind them.
Flick, whir, tappity tap
Charon watched with invisible interest as his employer settled her face over the neon screen; they had now been settled in a corner booth of Carter's Blubbin' Grub, an untouched plate of food before her. As though she had invaded his thoughts, she took the tip of a finger and pushed the, now, cold rations to the side. With the ample room, she set her arm down and pored grossly over the mini wrist computer.
It had been almost a month with her now; they still had no idea where they were going in search of some bounty hunter…hopefully, that was about to change. He was beginning to grow weary. The wasteland had ample dangers, and she just somehow seemed to find them all.
"Are you still hungry?" she asked him; her eyes never left the small map on her screen. "You can have mine. I'm good."
A quick mental calculation told him she had not eaten for almost…fourteen hours. She had skipped breakfast, as well.
"No…I am not," he replied, his eyes taking in her face as she puzzled over her new toy.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"Charon, do you enjoy anything?" A simple question.
"…yes." A simple answer: he rather did.
More silence, and then, "Like what?" The whirring paused, and her thumb and forefinger had a hold of a knob. When he looked up from the computer screen, he was met with the ocean; waves cascaded over him. He felt the urge to swallow; he liked her eyes.
His gravelly voice just rumbled in a string of nonsense, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
She gave a teasing smile. "Anything else?"
"Yes."
"Okay, like what?" she prodded.
"Putting a bullet in those who deserve it," he answered bluntly. She tinged a light pink in her cheeks, her smile fading, and she quickly looked back to the Pip-Boy. By her reaction, it would appear as though he had provided a wrong sort of response, but she had asked, and he had answered. It was the truth, and there was no reason for him to lie.
"Where do you come from?" Another question, and this time, there was no answer. A huff. "Figured."
There was a reason, for that.
"Do you wish to seek other company while you travel with me?" Her eyes flitted to his again, her map scrolling halted.
"I…do not understand," he said uncertainly.
A strained sigh. "Like- do you want to be contracted to someone else? Don't let me stop you, if you do."
He squinted at her. "…no…do you wish me to?"
She worked her jaw angrily, completely ignoring the Pip-Boy as she reached for her cup of cold coffee to the side. He could not comprehend her anger.
"Stop sounding so- robotic. A fucking Mister Handy has more personality than you. And, no, I do not wish anything of you…just, be yourself, for fuck's sake," she growled, her eyes scathing as she stared at him over the rim of her cup.
He fidgeted in his seat; he did not like it when she was angry with him. Then again, he did not like it when she was angry at all. He was now completely well aware of her stupid sense of strength, and he did not wish to be on the receiving end of it.
The crimson ghoul said nothing and betrayed no emotion. Evelyn merely rubbed her temples, and her forehead made a clunk as it hit the table.
Just be…himself?
Just be yourself, man!
"I-" He paused and licked his lips. "-I do not know, how to be myself."
A partial lie; those once exposed feelings and thoughts had died with the Lone Wanderer, and Charon was unsure if he would ever become familiar with them again.
Evelyn slowly lifted her head from the table, blinking. She blew a strand of hair from her face. "Well, then. I guess I'll have to show you."
The Present
By the time Evelyn awoke, she had the prickling sensation that something was terribly wrong.
Hissing and growling of inhuman proportions nestled into her ear; whispering and snarling clawed at her brain until she finally snapped from a feverish dream of bones and teeth. Her eyes sluggishly blinked open; a gaping maw greeted her vision and she yelped and scrambled backward.
An itch in her throat, and she coughed loudly into her elbow as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Bright; metallic; unfamiliar.
She wavered as she sat upright, closing her eyes and then shaking her head to stem away the double vision. She slapped her face with both hands, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She needed to be focused. She was in deep shit- Charon was going to kill her if she survived this.
A quick study of her environment- an empty room, and she recognized it as a vault dwelling. There had been a few excursions in her past where she had delved inside, and they all had dealt with atrocious experimentations. There was a viewing window into the hallway providing an observation of the next containment across; something big and monstrous had its glowing eyes fixated on her every move.
A deep breath was taken as a whirling storm of panic threatened to consume her. The ghoul. Catwalk. A man. Pink room. Drugged. She remembered a faint murmur of the man's voice, but could not recall what had been said. Another cough, and something cold brushed the naked skin of her forearm. Fingertips grazed up, and she felt metal. She froze and glanced down.
Attached to her neck was a slave collar.
Charon was going to annihilate her.
An angry huff, and she crossed her arms over her exposed chest. She had been reduced to nothing but her underwear, and it was cold. Small hands braced against the thick window as she craned her head left and right in an attempt to catch a glimpse of something- anything besides the thing staring at her unblinkingly across the way. It hadn't moved since she had awoken, or uttered a single sound.
A rather large, blue ghoul and a man came into view. Evelyn snarled, and beat a fist against the window, internally disappointed as to how it didn't even crack.
"Nuh-uh, uh." The man chastised her with a teasing smile. Evelyn halted her offensive actions as he waggled a finger at her. "If you wish to keep that pretty head on your shoulders, I suggest you refrain from any sort of violence." The fist was slowly lowered to her side, but she kept it clenched. "Good girl."
Evelyn blinked stupidly at the man for a moment, and she rubbed at her eyes. She was simply stupefied and stuck frozen in her spot as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. He looked almost exactly like Darcy- her mother's ghost was alive and well, and in the form of a man before her. The ghoul hadn't lied- he nearly did bring her her mother.
"Who the fuck are you?" Evelyn snapped. "Why…why-"
Roman shifted in place, and she assessed him. The ghoul was massive, and she gauged him just a bit shy of Charon.
The man chuckled. "Even as a little girl, you were always rather violent."
Evelyn took a step back. "Do I know you?!"
A twirl of a manicured hand, a rather pristine Pip-Boy strapped to his wrist. "It has been years…how old are you now? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight? Not that it matters…I'm rather surprised you had not visited sooner…did Darcy's disappearance not mean much to you, all those years ago?"
A seething glower was all he received, and he dashed her a charming smile. "I cannot say I blame you for your lack of…remorse. My sister was rather difficult to be around- believe me, I know."
"Sister?" Evelyn blinked, and then she squinted her eyes. The uncanny resemblance now made sense. "You're my uncle?"
A bellowed laugh was let loose, and the man forced himself to catch his breath, until he was finally reduced to a few chuckles.
"My my, Darcy…she never told you?" There was a glint in his artic eyes as he stabbed through her puzzled gaze. "Darcy never had any children…did you truly believe you were really her daughter?"
Twenty-Eight Years Ago
Tsk-kuk. The metal clipboard made a slight scrape against the rim it was hanging against, a sheet of paper was shuffled over as the previous diagnostics were being read.
There was a soft coo from inside the infirmary unit, and Darcy Lackins gave a glance up from her notes. The baby inside was wiggling their feet wildly in the air, giving murmured gasps and odd, alien noises. A tiny smile graced her features, before the sound of footsteps down the hall drew her attention away.
"Well?" David Lackins came to stand beside her, taking the clipboard from her delicate hands to study over. There was a hum in his throat. "Which one is this-?" He shuffled the sheet back to the front page. "X-17…another girl? It seems they fare better in the first stage than the boys do."
Darcy began to type away on her Pip-Boy as David continued muttering to himself.
"No fever…no sign of rejection…is this her first, or second dose?" David blinked his artic eyes at his identical twin sister's.
Darcy gave a hum of a cough to clear her throat. "Second."
"Hmm." David stroked his chin in thought. The clipboard was regarded with some consideration, before being set back down before its testing subject.
A vault door opened with a whish. "Doctor, it's X-08."
David half-turned to his twin sister. "Do we dare to hope?"
Darcy gave a half-smile. "I am prepared for the worst, but hope for the best."
David rolled his eyes as they walked side by side down the hall. "Disraeli?"
There was a loud rumbling of vicious snarls echoing down the hallway as they turned a bend, followed by a BANG BANG BANG. Darcy startled back, hesitating in her steps as they came to the viewing window.
David gave a cluck of his tongue, reviewing a monitor embedded in the wall. A disappointed sigh was heard. "And yet, another one."
"My God…they've never become this…massive, before." Darcy viewed on in fear as the once supposed human screeched at them from beyond the safety of the thick, shatterproof glass.
Its gangly, disproportionate muscled arms dragged across the floor as it paced around its containment; the skin of its legs was ripping apart as the underlying muscle mass continued to grow exponentially. It let loose another scream, its black eyes roving wildly in its sockets.
David raised his eyes momentarily from the data on his screen with the utmost uninterest. "As undesirable as it is, let us just be thankful they've stopped exploding with the final dosage."
