Eva is clearly unsure of Charon after their fight. She doesn't seem to know how to approach him, drifting closer as if he has a gravitational pull and then veering away like she's been scorched. Whenever she approaches him, he catches her stopping herself, a hand hovering near his shoulder for just a moment, a shifted stance so her hip doesn't risk the chance of grazing his. Her casual contact has always bothered him but the sudden change makes him itch.
When she barely resists touching him he's struck with the mad impulse to close the distance, initiate the contact first. He knows he doesn't want it, doesn't actually crave the physicality but it was her decision to touch him and now it is her decision to stop. Just once, he wants to decide. He feels the heat of an almost-touch and he wants to twist, grab the hand rapidly pulling away from him and…
He doesn't know what next.
He feels like a leper.
Eva has taken him along on another one of her quests for the insane woman next door. They're crouched behind a twist in a sewer, searching for the large mushy eggs those abominations hatch from. Charon isn't certain he's ever done anything quite so stupid.
She's carefully put enough distance between them that they don't risk touching as they ready for her attempt. He hates that he noticed, that it bothers him, but it does.
The sewer is quiet, nothing but the eerie sound of dripping echoing across the water. He can hear faint ripples, a splash, but there's no way of knowing where the noise came from or what created it. Eva is crouched beside him, holding a small mechanical object tight to her chest. Her gun is still in its holster, strapped to her back in a way that would make a sudden ambush deadly.
Charon wants to say something about it but there's no telling what else would hear them. He can protect someone who's reckless but he can't protect suicidal. She must have some sense of self preservation, her presence is proof enough of that, but her continued association with Moira is making him doubt it. Eva glances over at him, gesturing for him to stay put and then putting one finger against her lips. She's practically glowing in the dim light and he watches as she turns the corner and streaks towards her goal, a pale blur of light against mossy walls.
She places the device nestled deep in the clutch of eggs and turns back towards him, giving him a thumps up and the first genuine smile she's directed towards him since the fight.
She's halfway across when a Mirelurk bursts up from the water and clamps one giant claw down on her right arm.
The sewers explode with sound. The attack startled a shout out of her and her scream echoes, blurring together with the frantic splashing of calf deep water as Eva struggles and Charon sprints towards her. He can't get a clear shot on the creature, a shotgun's blast has too wide a radius to ensure he only hits his target and not the person he's attempting to protect, so he twists his gun and slams the back of it against the giant crab's face.
The butt of the gun cracks against the softer shell, managing to break off one of its eagerly snapping mandibles. It doesn't kill it but the damage is enough to draw the Mirelurk's attention away from Eva. Its grip on her arm loosens as it turns towards its new target, lunging forward with its opposite claw a moment too late. She tugs her arm away but Charon can see it's clearly broken, hanging limply at her side and bent at an unnatural angle. He's twisting his gun back around, ready to watch this thing splatter across the sewer walls when Eva bolts past him, snatching up his hand using her still functional arm. Reluctantly he follows, though he can hear the Mirelurk making chase close behind.
"We can't kill them!" She's shouting, any attempt at stealth abandoned. The echoes in the sewer have become near deafening and it's a struggle to even make out her words.
"Why the fuck not?" Eva has dropped his hand and is clutching her other arm tightly, obviously trying to minimalize the jostling as she runs. His employer is hurt and Charon is not in the mood for softening his words. They're nearing the exit but he wants to turn and fight, blast these obnoxious oversized crustaceans into Mirelurk cakes.
"It'll mess up the study!" She's still thinking of the woman who is clearly trying to kill her and her mad scientist investigations. Charon wants to scream.
They reach the door and Charon yanks it open before Eva can attempt it. The pain and adrenaline can only get her so far and judging by the way her body has begun to shake, she's nearing her limit. The claw has left several puncture wounds along the break line and he can see blood has begun to seep through her shirt. He slams the door shut once she's through, relieved they chose to pick the lock instead of just kicking the door in.
Eva looks dead on her feet but they manage to make it several blocks away before she needs to rest. Blood has saturated the cloth at this point, running down to her elbow and dripping a little too steadily on the ground. He's pulling out a stimpak when she stops him.
"Let's wait until we get back to Megaton." Her words are quiet and Charon shrugs them off, certain the shock is talking. Now that they've stopped he can see her arm more clearly and there's no way she'd underestimate that severe of a break. The pain alone should make it obvious if the unsettling sight of an arm bent backwards isn't enough. He's ready to pop the bone back into place and inject her as quickly as possible but she steps away when he approaches.
"Don't touch me. I'm going to wait until we get back." She rarely issues orders so directly and it's enough to make him jolt, the contract forcing instant obedience.
"What are you thinking? You'll bleed out at this rate." There's the hint of a snarl in his words and he's never been more frustrated with her then he is in this moment. " Megaton's not exactly a short stroll away."
Eva frowns at him. "Then I'll wrap it up. People didn't die instantly before stimpaks came around. I can make it there."
Her voice is low but so much calmer than it should be. Charon's hands are in fists and he would shake her if he could. What is she thinking?
"Why?" He should be quieter out in the open but his blood is boiling. He stares her down as she shakily pulls a Med-x from his bag and, after a few tries, manages to press the needle into her skin. Her trembling fades once the painkiller starts to kick in. He could have helped her but her command makes even thinking of touching her difficult.
He doesn't particularly want to help her either.
"Moira asked me to see her the next time I got really hurt."
Eva is trying to maneuver her shirt off under her armor but she's not left handed and she groans when the cloth slides off the wound, tacky with blood and clinging to her skin. She won't look at him.
Charon is seething. How can this one person be so infuriating? His pulse is still coming down from the fight and he knows it's adding to his lack of control but he can't hide the rage in his voice when he answers.
"You'll risk dying so you can be someone's science project?"
She has so much freedom, freewill. She has the option to say no yet she doesn't take it. It isn't fair.
The urge to grab her arm and just fix her anyways is overwhelming but his contract is fighting him, making the impulse twist until it's both compelling and repulsive. The idea of contact makes his skin crawl, his fingers burn and itch like he's already being punished for it.
To think that he had the freedom to do this earlier, nearly even wanted to but now can't. It's almost funny. He didn't even realize he could lose any more power over his own actions and yet here he is. Always, always under someone else's control.
"She's trying to help people. She's trying to do something good." Eva has finally managed to pull off her shirt and is looping the rough fabric around her arm. The Med-X must be helping immensely because she barely flinches when the motion pushes the bone a little more into place.
"Besides, I like her. She's sweet and weird and.." She sighs, half at herself and half at the knot she's failing to tie. The fire has died out of her words and now she just sounds tired. Eventually she looks up at him, almost sheepish.
"Can you help me?" She holds out the fabric meekly towards him.
He crosses his arms, still angry.
"I can't. You ordered me not to touch you."
She looks frustrated but one corner of the shirt slips from her grasp. It's clear she can't do this alone.
"Alright, you can touch me," He steps forward quickly but she's clearly aware of his intentions and finishes her order before he can ready the stimpak again. "but you can't give me a stimpak until I finish talking with Moira." Her brows are furrowed and if he's ever felt more like a genie trying to twist someone's wish around on them, he can't remember. "You can only give me one beforehand if it seems like…" She bites her lip. "Um…if I am in…immediate danger of death."
He rolls his eyes at her but the stimpak goes back into his pack.
….
The trek back is long and irritating. Eva needs to stop often for rest and about half way there she takes another Med-X. Her pupils are pinpricks when she looks up at him, pain slowly draining from her face and something in him goes cold. He's seen so many addicts with that symptom and finding the same unnerving stare on Eva's face…he doesn't like it.
He follows after her, planning to hide the rest of the drug for at least a month. He's not taking any chances, refuses to have another addict holding his contract. The image of Eva strung out and limp is unpleasant, his mind refuses to stop on it, skittering over the thought like a stone on water.
She throws up half an hour later and the worry fades.
When they finally reach Megaton, Eva's on her last leg. Her pale skin is shiny with sweat and her trembling has returned. The déjà vu as he helps her limp up the ramp to Moira's home is unnerving.
Moira is giddy when they arrive, chattering about all the data the observer unit has already sent back. She questions Eva on the mirelurks and her injuries, popping her arm back into place like it's nothing. A bit of tension eases from Charon's shoulders when he watches a stimpak needle break Eva's skin and a little more when it's immediately followed with a second.
He's leaning back against the wall next to Moira's hired help, hoping he never finds himself here again.
It's at the end of the visit that Charon realizes why Eva is so loyal to this mad woman. Moira touches her.
It's been happening the entire time, starting with a pat on Eva's shoulder, squeezing her hand when she sets the bone. She rubs her arm sympathetically when she describes her pain, clasps their hands together in excitement when the observer sends another batch of info. Even when they're not touching she stands close. The whole interaction ends with a sudden embrace and even Eva looks surprised. He almost looks away when she hugs back, the smile on her face so desperately happy it feels obscene.
It's sweet relief when they finally leave. He feels as if he hasn't been able to breath for hours, the threat of danger looming close enough to pull the air from his lungs. Finally, his employer is safe and the buzzing nerves of his contract can fade.
Eva, however, seems distracted.
She's clearly drained, the exhaustion and stress of the day still in her system even if the injury is now in the past. The stimpaks were fresh, homebrewed, and two of them were more than enough to knit the bone and tissue back together. Eva's ruined shirt is still lying abandoned on Moira's floor so Charon can easily see her new scars, shiny pink skin against ghostly white. They almost look more natural then her healthy skin.
It feels like it's been days since Charon stepped through the front door of their house. The agonizingly slow pace they had to take on their way back dragged the minutes into hours and he's never felt such a strong desire to fall into his bed and rest but he can't seem to do it. Eva is in the kitchen, fumbling with a can of pork n' beans and something brings him over, some impulse he doesn't want to look at too closely. The knife in her hand is wobbling and when she finally manages to pull the top open, she just puts her hands down onto the counter and sighs, leaning wearily over the surface.
He puts his hand over hers.
He doesn't smile, doesn't even look at her, though he saw her turn towards him in his peripheral vision. He just stands there, quietly, looking down at the sink like he's unaware of her small hand, cold and horribly soft, under his.
She doesn't move and he gets the distinct feeling she's afraid to. Whether it's from uncertainty from his actions or worry that she might scare him away is impossible to say.
His grip tightens, just slightly, and then he walks away.