Charon can hear her crying through the door. It's been going on for hours.
He first notices her absence this morning when she doesn't watch the sunrise. He is awake early and eating a Salisbury steak cold from the packet. The gravy has congealed but he doesn't bother to warm it. The flavor is decent enough on its own, the taste almost soothing in its familiarity. He had briefly considered waiting until the sun had risen before venturing out into the rest of the house but that felt cowardly. Charon shouldn't be cowed by the chance of another strange encounter with his employer. He's already had more than enough to get accustomed.
He waits but the sun rises and she never appears. He isn't aware of her ever having forgotten this particular part of her routine and an alarm bell begins to ring in his head as it grows later. Eventually he gives into to it, heading up towards the door opposite his.
Charon has never been inside Eva's room, only seen glimpses of its contents when she's exiting. The door is never left open and he's not stupid enough to pry. He wants to appease his curiosity about how she's obtained all she has but there are other ways. Testing the patience of an employer he cannot figure out won't be his first choice.
As he approaches the door, Charon can make out tiny sounds through the wood. It is enough to assure him she isn't dead but as he listens, it becomes more and more obvious what they are. Eva is crying, heaving gasps mixed with the faint whimpers of attempting to hold back something louder. He steps away quickly. If she was injured, she wouldn't be attempting to hold back the sound. He has seen her wounded before and, while she is unusually silent about it, she has no qualms in asking for help.
This must be something else. Another emotion he has no interest in investigating further. Charon walks away and returns to his meal. She'll come out eventually. Until then he might as well enjoy having the house to himself.
Two hours pass and Charon is no longer enjoying himself.
He has had to pass by her room several times now and each time he can just make out her faint sobs as he goes by. While he isn't particularly concerned about her, having a comatose employer limits him as well. He can't exactly wander off on his own and being tied to someone too far gone to function is like being tied to a corpse. Still, there's nothing he can do about it unless he wants to interact with someone this emotional and he definitely does not.
Another hour passes. Slowly.
By now he is getting angry. He has had his fair share of waiting but this is uncertain. He doesn't know when this might stop, if this will ever stop. In the passing months, Charon has never heard Eva cry. He has seen her do so but it is always faint, the mild tears of someone overwhelmed with emotion but not out of control of it. This endless sadness is unusual.
Charon makes it through half a weapon modification and 45 minutes of choked back whimpers until his control breaks. When he returns to her closed door, his steps are heavy, partially out of anger and partially in an attempt to warn her of his approach. Maybe she will be able to pull herself together before he opens the door and spare him the discomfort of seeing her choke back tears.
He knocks three times. Roughly.
There is no response from within the room, the steady pace of her crying doesn't even falter. He knocks again, agitated but receives no response. The handle is unlocked when he tries it and he hates his hesitance as he pushes the door open.
The sight is anticlimactic.
For a second, Charon doesn't even see her, just am empty room scattered with various paraphernalia. Faded posters cover over half of her walls and small toys are placed on an old dresser along with an assortment of shiny rocks. Her laser rifle is sitting on a little wooden table next to an open package of fancy lad snack cakes. The ragged blanket she uses for traveling is slung over a chair.
Eventually he spots her, a tiny curled ball tucked away between the dresser and table, nearly hidden. She doesn't look at him, doesn't even seem to notice his entering the room. Eva's head is tucked into her arms, her brown hair spilling over in tangled waves. She is still wearing her bedclothes. Her feet are bare, the tips of her toes pink from the late morning chill.
Slowly, Charon approaches. The fact that she doesn't even seem aware of his presence concerns him. His contract flairs up at the possibility of an actual problem. He doesn't want to touch her so he waits as he reaches her side, standing directly in front of her. If her eyes are open, she should be able to see the scuffed tips of his boots.
"Eva."
She doesn't answer. He tries again, louder.
"Eva!"
He does finally get a response but not the one he would prefer. She curls up tighter, the choked whimpering escalating for just a moment.
Charon turns and sits on the edge of her bed. He feels like he is too big for this space, a giant invading a child's room. He waits.
Another hour passes.
He watches the seconds tick by on the upended screen of her pip-boy. Late morning sun finally starts to warm the room but her toes stay red. Sixteen minutes in, Eva has a hiccupping fit. Thirty-two and she starts to shiver. Fifty-nine minutes and he can't stand it anymore. He stands, hesitates, pulls back and then finally drops down to her side.
"Eva." His voice is low but stern, like he's commanding an animal instead of addressing his employer. He grabs her arm. It's cold and small, too smooth under his ruined skin. It feels like he might break something.
She finally looks up when he begins to shake her. Her face is the picture of misery, eyes so bloodshot they look burned, obvious tear tracks down her impossibly pale skin. Charon hadn't realized she had any pigment in her skin but she must because she is even paler, veins so bold they look like worms boring through her flesh. Her nose is red and runny. She is clearly not a pretty crier.
"Charon?" Eva's voice crackles when she speaks. It sounds like she's been screaming.
"You have been crying for four hours." He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't want to ask her why, isn't willing to attempt to provide comfort. He can't exactly command her to stop but that's obviously what he's attempting to do. He waits for a response.
"I…what are you doing in here?" She doesn't look angry, more confused. His still has a tight grip on her arm and he can feel her trembling, sharp convulses that make her muscles tighten and her skin goosepimple beneath his hand.
"You never left your room." Is she delirious? She looks it, she's watching his face but it's obvious her focus is going in and out. Her breathing is erratic as well, changing from slower more normal breaths to short, shallow hitches.
Eva nods slowly, acknowledging his words if not understanding them. She focuses in on a spot on his left shoulder.
"I…I'm not feeling too well today." The words sound dreamy, as if she isn't particularly sure of them. Charon waits, gripping her arm a little tighter. The contact seems to be the only thing keeping her from pulling back into whatever world she was lost in.
"We..um.." she chokes on her words slightly, hiccupping and swallowing roughly. "We had anti-depressants in the vault. I think…" She rubs her eyes with her left hand, deliberately not moving the arm Charon is holding. "I think I'm just not used to not having them yet." She stares down at the table leg closest to her as if whatever she wants to say is etched into the wood.
Oh.
Charon says nothing and she eventually continues.
"I'm sorry. This happens sometimes." She has started to lean into his touch and the sheer neediness of it makes him want to draw away but he's unwilling to face the consequences. If this is enough for her than he can handle it, if he were to withdraw, she might order something more extreme and the idea of it churns in his gut. Eva sniffs and sits up a bit more, placing her hand over his. The pads of her fingers are calloused but they still feel so much smoother then his, so much more human.
"I just need some time. You can go do what you want, I'll try to pull myself together." She gives him the shakiest smile he's ever seen and then pulls her arm away, curling back into the ball he originally found her in. He waits for her crying to resume but it doesn't. Eva stays quiet, tense but no longer shuddering. Charon stands to go. This seems like the best he will get out of her. If what she says is true, she will not be so incapacitated forever. He just needs to wait it out. He pulls the door shut behind him. He thinks he might have heard something that sounds like his name, something that sounds like thank you but he can't be sure.
He doesn't see Eva for the rest of the day but when he hears quiet footsteps the following morning, creeping softly towards the front door and a better view of the sunrise, a knot in his stomach fades away.