The string of dead mirelurks, solo ferals, and the occasional molerat were laid out like a metaphorical jacket for her to step over. Cross tucked his jacket flaps back over the concealed shoulder holster home to a double-barrel shotgun, the tip still lightly smoking.

"Goddamn, makin' me work for free," he grumbled. With the bonnet hat still upon his head, it made him appear more as a pissed-off nanny than a veteran merc. Evelyn imagined a few children crawling over their grumpy guardian, but it was quickly dissolved from how sad the image became, for they all had his hazel eyes and her wild hair.

"Fuck's that look for?" he grumped at her, ignorant to her internal thoughts.

"Sorry," she said, quickly turning to look back up the road they were traveling. The night had crept up fast, but she had begged to continue exploring for just a few hours more. The weight of everything was easy to bury when she was preoccupied with looking out for dangers and finding ways to annoy her grouch of a lover.

"Hey," he rasped gently, suddenly at her side and holding her chin in one hand. "You said you wouldn't keep shit from me."

"I'm not. It's nothing serious, it was just something silly." She kissed his knuckles, and pointed to the town they were encroaching upon, the strung lights glowing like a welcome sign. "What's that?"

Cross gave her a look of I don't believe you, but he dropped it in favor of answering her question. The ever-growing bag was set down as he rummaged through his pockets for some gum.

"Quincy. Used to be occupied by the Minutemen, then some Gunners came along and wiped 'em out. We got a contract and returned the favor. It's been holed up by different groups every now and then…mostly just stays quiet."

"I don't know what either of those names mean," she said, expecting a full explanation to satisfy her curiosity.

The merc handed her a stick of gum instead. "Last I came through, place was empty. If it's clear, you can do some squirrelin' and we'll call it a night. Deal?"

"And if it's not?" she asked, blowing a large bubble.

He poked it, making it splash across her nose and cheeks. "Then we go home and fuck anyway."

The town was occupied by the ghosts of its past. He opened the door to the church, the pitiful squeal of its hinges making her burst into random laughter.

"Fuck you laughin' for?" he rasped, completely confused.

She held her sides- apparently, it was hilarious. When she regained her breath, she pointed to the door. "Th-that was the saddest sound I've ever heard! Do it again!"

He raised a brow and complied, and she again lost her mind to whatever humor she had stored up there. For the first time, he seriously began to wonder just what sort of person he'd declared his better half…but then he took in her flushed cheeks and stupid happy smile, and he knew he wouldn't care if she'd found the world ending to be sidesplitting.

Of course, he kept this all to himself, and just widened the door to let her step inside. "You're fuckin' bizarre."

She read terminal diaries while he enjoyed a box of cigars; he finally put his foot down as she tried to squish a Prosnap camera in with her other wares; he began to pick a lock to a safe as she peeled sticky caps from the false bottom of a cash register.

"You told me you were a shit lockpicker," she observed with disbelief as he effortlessly clicked it open. "You liar!"

"What?" he mumbled behind his smoldering cigar. He was then revisited by their first memory in that janitor's closet, when he finally got to put those lewd thoughts to rest on what was hiding away underneath her shirt. A snort, and he dove inside. "You really think after two hundred years I couldn't figure out how to pick a damn lock?" A waggle of his brows. "I was lookin' for any excuse to talk to ya back then."

She crossed her arms and leaned against the side. "You still do."

He shrugged. She was right.

They climbed to the rooftop of the derelict apartment building; a bloated corpse was tumbled over the edge with his boot. A loud pop of a cork from a bottle made him turn his head to catch her taking a small sip of something.

"What're you gettin' into now?" He held his hand out for the alcohol, but she tucked it close between her breasts and flashed a cheeky smile.

"Get your own, goon. I found it, fair and square!" she decreed, a royal highness appointed to her throne by her own self-virtue. Another teeny swallow was taken, and she crinkled her nose at the burn.

He attempted to snag at it, but she pirouetted out of reach. She hovered near the edge just a little too closely as she stared at the stars, and he snug a finger in her pants to keep her from falling three stories down. A whiff of the liquor met his nose.

Tequila.

A total of ten minutes passed until the booze caught up to her lightweight stature; she handed it over with a drunken smile, beginning to unbuckle her pants.

"Let's get drunk and have sex," she said demurely, wobbling in place as she tried to kick off her still laced boots.

He glanced around. So far, there'd been no interruption to their self-guided city tour. A pepper of gunfire echoed somewhere off in the distance, but technically, this was all Minutemen territory. Most likely scenario would be a patrol making the rounds on by and catching him balls-deep in her pussy. The thought of potentially being caught like naughty high schoolers struck a giddy chord inside that he didn't think even existed anymore.

She had already freed his stiff cock, her wet tongue making thick laps around his tip. His three fingers removed her ballcap and then dove inside her hair as his other hand held the bottle to his mouth for a long drink.

"God, just like that," he murmured lowly, feeling her tongue race up his shaft.

A hint of teeth mouthed the head as she pulled up, and he groaned as she worked her way down. He squeezed the bulge in her throat, making her cough a webbing of spit and bubbles. She lathered it in her free hand, smearing his balls in a gentle massage and stroking him as she caught her breath back in her lungs. He preemptively came; he'd been so damn excited playing with her jiggling boobs that he forgot to pace himself. The sounds of her little yuck and gross made him look down. She was unsuccessfully wiping away his mess with her fingertips, whipping it from her hands to splatter the rooftop.

"Oh my God," she repulsed, wiping the sticky load from her eyes. "That was a lot!"

"I'll get ya some water," he croaked. He coughed into a fist, stumbling from his spot as he knelt beside their bag and sorted through the useless crap. "Hold on, I think I saw a few bottles in that shop downstairs."

When he returned with the goods he splashed a handful of water over her face, nearly drowning her as she inhaled.

"Why the fuck would you open your damn mouth?" he scowled, gripping her by the base of her hair and tilting her head back.

"Because you're soaking me! You're getting it everywhere!" she snapped.

He narrowed his eyes at her ungrateful attitude and dumped the remainder of its contents over her face and breasts. She shrieked and began to spit curses at him, and he simply tossed the empty bottle over his shoulder and smothered her screeching with his tongue.

God I fuckin' love you, you crazy weirdo, he thought as they began to strip the remainder of each other's clothes. Don't ever leave me again. I can't live this life without ya.

That sweet gasp that tasted of honey and fine liquor melted on his tongue when he fucked her mouth with his own. The palm of his hand came up, cupping the weight of her left breast and giving a firm squeeze; he pinched her nipples and rubbed them between his index and thumb, dragging his black tongue from the base of her neck to her collarbone. He nipped at her skin as his other hand spread the silky folds between her thighs and her back was pulled flush against his chest. She tilted her head to breathlessly gaze upon him; his abyss for eyes shifted from her naked skin to her face, and she beheld his portrait against the background of glittering stars with a sense of wonder.

"I wish I knew you then," she whispered, her fingers reaching out to stroke his jawline. They stopped at the base of his mouth, and he closed his eyes as he lowered his head to kiss them.

"Yeah?" he rasped huskily.

Yes. If he had come for her, found her in that town. Would he have viewed her then as he did now? Her heart could only tell her yes, for anything else was too heartbreaking to imagine.

He would have made the journey west with her, when she was nothing but overabounding wanderlust and naivety. Perhaps he would have curbed her temper, taught her how to play darts and pool and poker. How to track the journey of the sun and locate fresh water. They would have made love around every campfire and sang along to heartfelt songs. He would have taken such good care of her; she would not bear as many scars as she did. She would not have had to learn how to mend a broken heart.

His mouth dipped to the base of her neck and sucked the skin as his cock plunged deep inside of her, releasing that shuddering moan that transformed him from a gentle lover to a rabid animal.

The size of his hands encircled her forearms, and soon he was battering away, foregoing any tender transition or adjustment to his size. He was absolutely destroying her, ripping into her and not heeding the begging drawn from her lips. He wanted the entire wasteland to hear her cries, his slap of flesh against her own and the deep growling in his throat. Her heavy breasts smacked against her chest, and he was at once entranced with the sight of how the light made her nipples shine. He arched her back, giving enough of a dip in her hips that he felt himself hit that breaking point within her. She came, nasty and irresistible, bringing himself home within her. He groaned and held on to her quivering flesh for a few moments before he slowly lowered her down on all fours.

That was something he needed a holotape of.

For not the first time, Charon felt jealous.

Granted, he didn't expect this ugly nature to come creeping back after their resolution so long ago, but he simply couldn't help the hot streak boiling through him. There were so many things, desires, comforts, that he could not give her that Cross could, and that was okay with him…he wanted her to be happy.

So why couldn't he just make her happy?

It seemed to be such a simple thing, in the past. She would laugh at damn near everything ridiculous: his deadpan expressions, a joke at a bar, she even found this warped photograph of what was presumably once a cat, all distorted and gray, and she laughed at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. He almost missed the way she had kept it tucked inside her pocket, occasionally pulling it out to view at and break down into hysterics all over again.

As annoying as her childish mirthful nature had been, it was much preferred over this new Evelyn he seemed to have dredged up from some fucked up nightmare scene. The screaming, the way she cried so hard she puked, the complete and utter hopelessness in her eyes that no amount of joy could ever heal. He had never experienced that in their travels, before.

He just wanted her to smile again, and have it never fade away.

The ghoul raised his shotgun to his chest as he waded deeper into the water; it completely submerged up to his waist, and he slowly advanced his footing lest the soft silt drag him under. The radiation tingling through him from the exposure felt pleasant; the frigid temperature shrinking his balls did not.

The houses on the bay were ever crumbling down into the shallow waters; he'd been here once before, a few years now past, engaged with a band of raiders while simultaneously clearing the area of mirelurks. It had been one of their lower-end jobs, a rung on the ladder to step onto for the foothold they championed on now. It was the one place that had reminded him of her, for the item he had found almost broke his heart. He had instantly pictured her with it- happy. He hadn't taken it with him at the time; it was all too much. But, now, he hoped the little nook he had stowed it into was a good enough place of concealment from wandering scavs and their sticky fingers.

Charon cradled his gun over his shoulder, reached a hand up inside some tilted shelving, and brushed his fingers along the edge until they met with the item still in wait for him. He pulled it down, trying to steady the rapid increase of his heart rate, and blew a breath to dispel the dust.

Evelyn awoke to the sound of trickling water- the merc was scratching at his bare ass and pissing off the side of the roof. She rolled her eyes and reached for her underwear, blinking through the early sun of morning.

Cross growled in surprise as something slapped his leathered butt cheek, and he narrowed his eyes at the goblin cackling to herself as she noodled away in nothing but her skivvies.

"Put some damn clothes on." Cross pointed a finger at something on the outskirts of town. "We got company."

She cocked an eyebrow at his hypocrisy.

They dressed and made their way down the rickety scaffolding to the streets. Some invisible figures were heard inside the church, creating a ruckus as they rifled through empty containers and spoke in loud tones.

"See? Told ya. No point in coming here. Waste of our fucking time."

Two were outside lingering on the front stoop, enjoying a buzz from their lit cigarettes with their mouths puckered on the ends. Evelyn eyed the insignia on their breastplates- a crude skull with a giant 'X' scratched over.

Cross took a deliberate step on a piece of glass, the crunching of his boot drawing their heads up and fingers close to their triggers. They took one look at his menacing presence, his glow faint in the morning light but still recognizable, and they internally debated whether the reward was worth the risk. The firepower he carried was nothing to scoff at, especially considering they themselves toted shoddy pipe pistols with limited aim.

The men gave a simple nod of their heads, watching him pass along…with a woman carrying a duffel bag that was nearly her size slung over her back.

"Hi!" Evelyn waved cheerily, and Cross threw her a dirty look.

The men dumbly raised their hands out of social habit.

"Morning," one mumbled.

Cross reached his hand around to scoot her forward, all whilst keeping a watchful eye on their backs as they made to leave Quincy.

The rest of the party reemerged from scrounging inside just as they rounded towards the front gates.

"Whoa now, who said you could let people just walk on by?" a voice taunted at their backs.

Cross already spun around with his weapon raised and intentions hostile, shielding Evelyn perfectly behind himself from a simple pivot on his heel.

One continued to drag on his smoke. "Leave me out of it. That motherfucker's packing."

"Hey, I know that guy!" Another gave a point of his finger at Cross's scowl. He then excitedly thumped his fist on his companion's chest piece. "He's the one that took out Chucky D!"

"Well I'll be damned." The original instigator spat a stream of tobacco to the side. "You're that fucking ghoul merc, aren't you? Heard you were dead."

Cross turned his head for a moment to Evelyn. "Give us a couple minutes."

She blinked up at him, tightening her hold on the strap of her bag. "But-"

"Now." His tone left no room for arguing, and she scowled as she marched along without him.

"Whoa, I didn't say she could leave," the ex-gunner leered as she walked away. "How much you paying that zombie for protection? We'll do it better…for a little extra pay, if you catch my drift."

A slug was unloaded in his face; the red, sticky gore slowly oozed down the white chipped paint of the doorframe. Empty shells clattered at Cross's feet as he popped the barrel open to reload. The two from before scrambled inside for cover, and one procured a grenade from his satchel as he sidestepped down the stairs. He pulled the pin, but the merc blew his kneecap clean off with a precise shot.

The grenade fell from his hand.

"Oh shit! Grena-!"

The explosion splintered wood and billowed smoke into the courtyard. Two figures could be seen scrambling through the haze.

"Get that fucker! Light his ass up!"

Cross snapped his shotgun into place a second time, his heavy boots digging into the soft gravel as he swiftly made for the backside of the church. A whistle of wind breezed by, fluttering his jacket open and halting him in his steps.

A car had lodged itself into the side of the building, smashing the rest of the northern wall into smithereens. Cross whirled his head around to a human blur as she leaped through her makeshift entryway, and before he could hightail it after her, the remaining ex-gunner was launched outside like a human projectile. The screaming was silenced after a loud splat. The car began to billow smoke, and the merc hastened his footing just as she jumped back through. She nabbed at his hand and forcefully tugged him along.

"I didn't think about that!" she shouted.

Cross stopped around the side of a brick building, pulling her into the safety of his arms as the ticking time bomb of a vehicle exploded, the noise deafening.

Evelyn rubbed at her ears and accidentally breathed in a whiff of acrid gunpowder that was laced on his jacket.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin'?!" Cross snarled, twirling them in a circle to pin her flat against the wall. "You tryin' to get yourself killed?"

She coughed, the distant smell of burning wood and metal being drawn into her lungs. "I could ask you the same! You didn't have to take them all on alone!"

"That ain't your concern," he replied curtly. His hand lifted from her forearm, the warm sensation of blood coating his fingers. "Were you shot?!"

"It just grazed me." She blew a hair from her face, winching at the sting from the gash running down her arm. "I'm fine."

"No, no that ain't fuckin' fine," he snapped. He took ahold of her other side, roughly pulling her alongside himself. "We're goin' home."

"Hey! Hey!" She easily wrenched herself free from his grasp, not limiting her strength against him. "You can't just get mad at me! You were careless too! You just shot that guy cause, what, he was being a dick?"

The merc made a reattempt at grabbing her, and she was trapped against the brickwork as she stepped back from his reach.

"You can't be like this-!"

The ghoul suddenly towered over her, making her feel extremely small and crushing her words back down her throat. The look on his face was downright hateful, and she had to will her knees not to shake.

"I'm goin' to tell you somethin', and I'm only goin' to say it once," he rasped lowly. "You ever pull a stunt like that again-" He leaned a little closer, his breath suffocating her. "-and I ain't layin' pipe for a week. You understand?"

Evelyn blinked, the words cementing themselves in her brain, and she scowled and threw a fist at his chest to make him stumble backward. "You asshole! Why did you have to say it like that?!"

"I'm serious," he simply replied, and he dove inside his jacket for some gum.

"Oh, please! You're telling me this?"

Cross rolled his eyes. "Went ten years, think I can hold out a few days."

"You think I'd seriously crack over not having sex for that long?"

The look he sent her downstairs pooled an intense heat between her thighs, and when he slowly roved back up and winked at her blush, she bit her tongue.

"Hey." He grabbed at her hand, giving it a light kiss, and he had drawn stern again. "All things aside, I need ya to tone it down, okay? I know how you are…but give this old man some credit. Those guys were fuckin' chumps, and I hate seein' ya get hurt. You should know how that makes me feel. Ya know how...Braxton, was for me, and I'm tryin' my best to keep ya safe."

Compared to his past self, his overly collected and reasonable words made her feel ashamed at her own lack of maturity.

She threw her gaze down, simmering into a pout. "…sorry. I'll try to be better, about it."

"That's all I'm askin'." He raised her arm, assessing her injury. "Ya want a stim?"

"No-" she began, but he was already injecting her.

"Too bad." He tossed the expendable to the side. He shouldered her duffel bag, and thoughtfully chewed his gum for a minute as he watched the church go up in flames. "Ya better hope it doesn't spread...kind of liked our little 'spot'."

She angrily shrugged, still peeved at herself. "Were we not going to fuck everywhere? Didn't stop you before."

He snorted, and waggled his fingers to indicate his wish to hold her hand. "Not if ya burn the damn city down first."