Everything was going to shit.

The storm had proved to be much more violent with its downpour than he could have ever imagined; it neatly washed the shallower graves right down to Sanctuary's doorstep, sending a few settlers armed with shovels and stretchers to slop through the mud and up his way. He barely had time to get off the can and grab his gear before they could light their torches and sharpen their pitchforks with wild assumptions. He attempted to wait out the impending flood in a creaking shack, but the constant rattle of the walls and overly leaky roof preventing him from keeping dry forced his ass into not giving a single fuck. He made his way into the next settlement by the name of Starlight Drive In, and kept his head down.

The ex-raider took a long swig from his pint of beer, smearing the tendrils that snaked down his throat with the sleeve of his thick jacket. He would get back to it when the cards were played right; there wasn't a rush…wasn't like Darcy was making herself easily known, anyways.

The bartender paused in cleaning a glass to dial up the volume on the radio, an attempt at some friendly atmosphere despite the raging tempest just outside.

"Heartaches by the number, troubles by the score,"

A few heads turned in their seats to gauge the newest company seeking refuge from the radstorm. Sinjin paused in shoving food down his throat as the sight of her nearly caused him to choke.

"Everyday you love me less, each day I love you more,"

No…it wasn't her. But, damn, it almost…could it? She whirled her head around, looking so fucking lost and openly confused that, yep, it had to be her. What other sort of woman wandered around looking like some kind of idiot? She scratched at her head with her right hand, and he caught the shine from a wedding band on her ring finger.

"Yes, I've got heartaches by the number, a love that I can't win,"

With the change in hair, he almost didn't recognize her. She walked on by his table, soaked like a swamp rat and practically bringing in the entire storm behind her. The door swung on its creaky hinges as she wiped a slick forearm across her face, making her way to the other end of the room without so much as a glance around herself.

"But the day that I stop counting, that's the day my world will end."

Sinjin shrugged further into his hood, eyeing her taking a seat and giving a weary nod to a question that had been asked. A plate of food with a beer was set before her, and when she pointed at the bottle and verbally questioned it, the bartender just threw her a shrug and a smile.

"On the house. Look like you could use something to keep you warm," was all he said, and she dove into her steaming fixings with ravenous enthusiasm.

The ghoul couldn't help but stare. She was here. She looked…well, she looked like shit. Dark bags creased underneath her eyes, and her wet hair was a stringy mess that was plastered to her neck and shoulders. She didn't appear to have any company; she was alone. Was she on the run? Maybe the merc finally tossed her troublesome ass out the door to wipe his boots free of her shit. When she climbed up the stairs to the vacant upper decks, he quietly followed.

Everything was going great.

She tucked the wheat-colored hair behind her ears and blinked up at the face shrouded in ink that plopped down across from her. Only the glow of his eyes gave any indication he had a face. The rugged texture of his palms was soon enveloped around her, his fingers digging through her hair and tongue lashing between her lips to dominate her own. She shoved him back with no hold of strength, thrusting him out of his seat with a murderous glower etched on her face.

"There she is. I knew it was you." Despite the rejection, he chuckled as though it was a minor lover's spat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she seethed in a whisper. She wiped his saliva from her lips and shook her head.

Sinjin calmly set his chair back upright, took a seat, and scooted it close to the edge of the table. "You come here looking for Darcy?"

She looked at him as though he had sprouted another head. "How the fuck do you know that?" She then bit her lip and her entire demeanor grew cold. "You're a wanted man."

He looked around the empty room. Only the dim lighting from the stained wall lamps kept them any company as the general crowd remained under their feet. "It would be real easy to bag me, right here, right now." The ghoul had a glint to his sharp teeth as he smirked. "It's too bad there's no one coming running, now, isn't there?"

He swiped a hand underneath the table and snugged it on the underside of her thigh, shunting her closer to himself to where she was pinned between the table and the chair.

"I never fucking got that about you. I just don't understand it. What the fuck is the likes of you got so hard for something as the likes of me? You could put a fist through my skull and call it a day. You could scream, and have this whole fucking town on my ass in a matter of minutes…but you don't. And you know something, I bet you won't."

She turned her head as he leaned in close, his mouth grazing against the fine hairs around her ear.

"I can't help but wonder why he let you wander so far off on your own…he doesn't know, does he?"

"Get your fucking hand off me."

"Did he ever tell you what they discovered back in D.C.?" Now his mouth was so close to her own, he was practically kissing her with every word he spoke. "No. Of course they didn't. You want to know why you are the way you are?" He pulled at the soft skin of her lips with a gentler approach, but she still refused him.

Her hand clenched down on his forearm just as his palm grabbed her jaw. "Let. Me. Go."

He leaned down, his muscles flexing with every word he spoke. "You'd fucking rip my arm from its socket if you really wanted me gone. I've seen you; I know just how fucking strong you can be. Why the fuck are you letting those two get the hold on you? This is the fucking wasteland- it's meant for killers and those killed, and I know this when I see it- you're a fucking killer. How many people have you ripped, piece by piece, with those bare hands of yours? You're in the wrong fucking circle. You can be so much more."

"No," she whispered, but he tightened his hold around her throat.

"You don't need protection. You don't need those fucks keeping you from the only thing that matters- you. You think they cared enough about you to come looking? You think they really gave a shit, when they were here fucking around? I was the one coming to get you. I was the one that was going to give you what you really want."

"You don't know anything about me," she snarled.

"I know everything about you," he rasped venomously. "You want everything that's ever fucking wronged you put in its rightful place- you never want to feel powerless, ever again. What does he see in you? A smoothskin face and a tight ass? Ask him next time- I guarantee you he won't admit to what you really are."

But they…they could be something. He could have her as his right-handed woman, a fiery tempest, a fucking night witch with cold eyes and wicked smiles. She could be someone he could rely on; she was fucking strong, someone to be feared and respected. No one would fuck with her after witnessing her tear the others apart like confetti, and in turn, no one would fuck with him. They could wage war on the wasteland and in their bed. He wanted that part of her so badly, the piece he knew was sitting locked away in a cage, waiting for the right rhyme and reason to be set free without any doubt from a guilty conscious. He had witnessed it in her eyes, that night on the boat, when looking at him. She wanted to kill him, oh, he knew that. By God, did she want him dead…and it made him rock fucking hard having her look at him like that even now. Sinjin wanted to take one of the most terrifying creatures the wastes had to offer, snap a collar on, and say sit.

And someday, she would.

Sinjin was a man of opportunity. He knew when to make a bet, and when to fold in…and he was going to make a wager that she did, too.

"If you want some real fucking answers, you'll come with me. I know you're looking for Darcy. I'll help you find her." And with that, he leaned away, giving her the chance at a choice. "I'll be waiting at the ridge overlooking the town. Don't make me wait."

He nabbed at his pack just as she stood from her chair. Her chest was heaving as she internally debated with herself, her eyes glued to the floor.

"What the fuck did you hear, back in D.C.?"

Sinjin chortled, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. "You wanna start with that, here, now?"

She angrily shrugged and snapped a glare up at him. "You said you had answers. So yes. Now." She ignored the drift of his eyes down at her groin. "If you're going to waste my time-"

"What do I get in return?" He raised his stare back to her face.

"Your life," she growled. When he merely raised a brow muscle, she simmered slightly. "Fine. I have caps."

The ghoul shook his head, uninterested in her offer. "You really think I want your fucking caps? Do better."

"Well, I don't know! A fucking fist in your face?!" she barked. "What? What the fuck do you want?"

He started forward. She took a hesitant step back, just stopping out of his reach.

"Don't come any closer."

"We don't have time for this little fucking game," he growled. "You want those fucking answers, or not?"

When she began to shake her head from a loss of nerves, he snapped at her and pinned her against the wall, his brute fist slamming above her head.

"You wanted to tell them you were coming for them, isn't that what you said, back on that boat? Why the fuck would you let this stop you?" He shunted a knee between her thighs and slightly dug into her groin. He wanted to see the woman with cold eyes, to feel that tingle on the back of his neck that warned him of imminent danger. "Or are you just all bark and no bite, is that it? A chained bitch in heat that just lets any fuck rail her fucking cunt."

A blow decked him in the face, and he stumbled back with a bloodied smile.

"Fuck you," she spat with murder flaming off her tongue.

Sinjin wiped a forearm across his mouth and lobbed a glob of red spit to the floor. The ghoul plunked back down in his chair, and popped his neck. "I know your brother."

The sudden cool façade on her face told him she was listening, very intently.

"He's the reason you went to Braxton in the first place," the ghoul calmly continued. He knew he had her. She wasn't going back to that prick of a merc. She was all his.

"What do you want?" she asked plainly.

The ghoul beckoned her with two fingers. When she was close enough, he snagged at her arm and pulled her down to himself on the chair, the barrel of his gun planted firmly between her breasts.

"You think of doing anything stupid, and we get to see what's behind those fucking tits. Do we have an understanding?" he growled.

She only nodded, continuing to stare at him with dead eyes. "Yes."

"Good." He leaned his head close. "Kiss me."

Her eyelids squinted, but then she closed them and laid a touch of her lips on the rough exterior of his mouth. He snarled in frustration. It was plain, boring, and nothing like he obsessively replayed in his mind from that day. He shoved her off of himself.

"Kiss me, like that time on the boat," he grunted thickly.

She stared at his face for a good long while, and just as his patience was about burnt out, she gently laid her hands on the sides of his face. Slowly, her lips came up to caress his jaw, and she closed her eyes as she traveled across his face with tender affection. Sinjin felt his own eyes close and his breathing slow; this felt right. When she finally met his lips, she gave him a kiss so soft and sweet he instinctively held onto her face with his hand. He greedily asked for a little more, worming his tongue inside her mouth with an almost zealous lust. She was hesitant, at first, but then his hand was diving inside past the buckle of her pants.

"No, you just said a kiss," she gasped, pulling herself free and stepping off to the side. She avoided his eyes, her skin flush with shame.

The ghoul growled. He wouldn't have had this hard of a time with any of his women back when he was running his outfit from Milton. But he wasn't an aspiring crime boss anymore, and the woman standing with her head bowed to the side wasn't any typical junkie raider he could fuck around and play with. He was going to have to take this painfully slow.

"Fair is fair." He cracked his spine with a sharp twist. "Ask me a question." He held up a finger before words could make way past her lips. "But for every question you ask, I get a little bit more."

Evelyn chewed on her lower lip for a moment, and then shakily sighed. "What's wrong with me?" When he didn't respond, she looked back down at her hands. "What the hell do these people want me for? What am I?"

Sinjin noisily sighed through his nostrils as he contemplated how to answer her question. He dug inside his back pocket for a pack of smokes. He shook one loose for her to take hold of, and she hesitantly drew it free.

"You're a walking minefield," he rasped.

She lipped the smoke and said nothing, and he flicked his lighter and held the flame under her tip. When she had taken a drag and he had lit his own, he snapped the lighter shut, and pocketed it back inside his armor. She slowly sat back down in her seat across, watching him like one does a dangerous predator.

"Some damn miracle cure," he mumbled more to himself, and she dropped her bummed smoke as she turned to look at him.

"What?" she questioned. "A cure? For what?"

Sinjin savored the acrid tinge of burnt tobacco over his tongue. "A cure for ghouls." He watched her face carefully, and then motioned for her to give him her hand. "Here…I want to show you something."

The unearthly beacon of neon light glowed through the chaos of the wind and rain. A tinge of radiation shuddered down Charon's spine. It was powerful; a colossal wave of pure energy that numbed the tips of his fingers and swelled his tongue like the burn from a strong drink. The merc had become a walking lightning rod, guiding the way with every slap of his boot against the cracked pavement like an echoing boom of thunder.

Charon had suggested they find shelter from the storm, but the look Cross had given him made him curl his fists at his sides and dutifully carry on in silence. They only paused for the briefest of moments to allow Charon to inquire around settlements along the way for any hint as to Evelyn's presence. They were catching up quickly, and with the grueling pace they had set themselves to, they would most certainly intercept her before she had the chance to set foot inside Sanctuary.

A multitude of glowing eyes watched their passage. Cross's heightened luminosity was drawing their feral kin from the lurking shadows, but none so dared to venture close. They only stared, unblinking and seemingly in awe. Charon couldn't help but think back to that moment in the church, when he had been ready to put the merc in the ground a second time.

The dim lights of Starlight Drive In came into view through the dense sheet of rain. A clap of thunder sizzled through the dark clouds, and as though on cue, the glowing ghoul paused to stare at the beckoning enticement of a warm meal and a dry bed. He was completely drenched, but he merely blinked through the onslaught of rain as though the concept of human comforts did not apply to him. He then took a step forward, and Charon had to intervene.

"They will shoot you on sight," he rasped above the drowning of the rain. Being so close to the ghoul was making his head spin; he clenched his teeth and fought to stay lucid. "Unless you can…stop this, they will not allow you in. She may have moved on from here."

The merc shifted his eyes from the settlement on the skyline to his companion.

Cross unnerved him.

Charon removed his tight grip from the merc's broad shoulder. "I suggest you wait as you have been. I will return shortly."

The ferryman trudged past the chained gates and whirring turrets to step along the clanking wood planks that served as crude walkways. The settlement had grown to quite a decent size since his last impromptu visit- despite the howl of the storm, smoothskins and ghouls alike wandered between establishments, either looking for bedside company or a stiff drink to warm their guts. A drunk narrowly avoided crashing into his side.

Charon climbed the steps and escaped the frigid rain for the security of the warm bar house. He asked the same questions as he had all afternoon, coaxing the answers he required with a handful of caps.

"Oh yeah. She's upstairs."

The answer nearly sent him barreling up the rickety walkway of the crudely fashioned building to the upper levels. A few tables with some vacant chairs stood between him and the lone figure skulking over their drink in the far corner. She sniffled loudly, not noticing his presence, and wiped a hand across her face.

"Evelyn."

The stern usher of her name turned her head a few inches to the side. Charon blinked at the empty canisters of jet littered beside her bottle. The silver wedding band had been discarded to sit alone across from her, and it made him queasy.

"What are you doing?" he rasped stupidly. He was dripping water all over the floor, not caring for the spillage at their feet as he stared at that tiny piece of jewelry. Some stains of blood were streaked along the surface of the table, and he spied the dried flakes of crimson staining her left hand. "What happened?"

There was a sudden screech from her chair as she rose from her seat to bypass him. "I don't want to talk about it."

Her wrist was roughly grabbed. He twisted her around to meet him head-on. "Why did you leave? We would have come with you."

A hollow laugh was barked at him. Behind the void expression on her face, her eyes were nothing but misery. He shook her, trying to dispel the apprehension worming in his gut and hopefully knock some sanity into her.

"You know he only wants to keep you safe," Charon said lowly.

Evelyn scoffed and glanced around the empty room. "Yeah? Then where is he?"

"He is outside…he could not enter here as he is."

The blanket of apathy on her face lifted slightly to reveal genuine concern. She ripped her hand free from his hold, snatched at her wedding band with a clawing frenzy, and dashed down the stairs before he had a chance to keep her in place.

He managed to snag at her shoulder and pin her against the side of a building. A curtain of rainfall from a broken canvas provided a scenic waterfall at his back, and he had to raise his voice to be heard.

"Stop it! What are you doing?" He pushed himself closer to her body as she began to squirm. "Why will you not simply tell me?!"

A hot waft of air tickled his throat as she breathed into his mouth, the aftertaste of tequila and jet licking at his tongue as she kissed him with a desperate need. Her fingers were suddenly worming around his belt and into his pants; cold and clammy fingers nestled around his flaccid cock, and he bellowed a hiss.

He pushed himself away, keeping her at arm's length. "No."

The sheer strength she possessed was unmatched, and she pushed his hold off to begin undressing herself. He snagged at her fingertips as he looked around for any wandering eyes.

"Evelyn-" His words were paused as she forced his hand to her breast and she began to nip at his mouth.

"I want him off me," she said quickly, and then her face screwed up in a grimace. "I want him off me," she cried.

"Who? What are you talking about?" Charon held both her hands fiercely between his own, and she finally halted, looking up at him as though seeing him for the first time. "Did, did someone hurt you?" When she only began to sob hysterically, everything within him became hot with unparalleled wrath. "Were you raped?"

"No-no-I just-he-" She hiccupped, and she harshly wiped at her damp face with her thumbs. "I didn't want to leave you. I…I was so scared. I didn't want to die down there," she cried. "When I woke up, I didn't know if I would ever see you again." She grew limp in his arms. "It was like everything was just gone. I remember being in that room, going over that stupid fucking plan Thomas had, thinking it would all work out okay, cause it always did, you know? A-and then, you were gone- Cross was gone- it was just me, I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if you two were alive, or if you still even loved me-"

Charon forced his shaking hands to steady as he went about quickly regaining his decency and helping her with her own as she continued to keen.

"I didn't want to be left behind! I didn't want to die!"

The merc was where he had been left; a glowing lighthouse for those unable to find their way. The moment he saw them approach, the burning rage ready to be spewed forth instantly died when he saw her shaking hands and shattered resolve. The intense light radiating all around them snuffed itself cold, the neon sun emitting from his body dying at the sight of her.

"Baby, I ain't mad," he choked out as she buried herself into the open invitation of his arms. He held her close against the wailing of the storm, her own cries joining the fray. "Jesus, you're good. Are you okay? Holy fuck, why you shakin' so damn hard?"

Charon gave a jut of his chin, and they turned their backs to the soft lights of Starlight Drive In.

Drumlin Diner was crowded with refugees looking to escape the brunt of the storm. A lone pack brahmin was partly provided shelter in a rickety lean-to beside the entrance, the hum of the generator suppling power almost silenced by the gale of wind threatening to blow them off their feet. They stepped inside, sopping wet and trailing water all over the floor. The woman standing behind the counter was busily pouring shots of whiskey on a tray; the young man beside her flipped a few steaks on a griddle.

"C'mere." Cross nuzzled her to the far corner and only empty booth still available. He sidled close beside her, leaning against the backside of his seat as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He watched Charon pull out a healthy number of caps from his pack and point to the freshly seared steak.

The rain battered at the boarded-up window behind him; a thick waft of smoke from the roasted meat reminded him he hadn't had a single meal yet that day. His three fingers were mindlessly stroking down the side of her waist under her wet clothes, and when he looked down to finally address the situation, he found her slumped against him in a dead sleep.

A packet of cigarettes and a plate of steaming brahmin were set down. Charon took a seat in a chair across from them, his fingers drawing out a smoke and searching for his lighter.

"Not hungry?" Cross rasped as he picked up a fork.

Charon shook his head, his eyes not wandering too far from her sleeping face. They sat in silence as the patrons around them conversed loudly and drank one too many shots. Cross eventually took a cigarette for himself, sitting in quiet contemplation as he felt her chest rise and fall underneath his palm. It was the calmest he had been all day.

"Something happened."

Cross slowly roved his eyes from the scene of the storm to his companion.

Charon licked his lips, settled his hands on the table, and flexed them into hard fists. "She…she was not well. She had been drinking, and…" He looked away, as though the memory physically pained him. He could feel her cold hands ghosting his flesh like some haunted limb. "She wanted me to have sex with her, and she…she said…'I want him off me'."

Cross blew out a cloud of smoke between them, his face drawn back into that cold void of absolute anger. "Who?"

"I do not know. She would not tell me." He drummed his fingers against the countertop and looked around the room. A few men were staring at them, namely her, and he felt his fingers itch for his gun.

The merc's smoke was stubbed out against the countertop, and the butt joined the rest of the stale littering's on the floor.

"She said she did not want to die down in that vault," Charon rasped thickly. He forced himself to sit straight, to not allow the burden of his grief to weigh him down. He had been shouldering it for a long time now, and he needed to manage it if he was to be strong enough for her from this point on. It didn't stop the absolute heartbreak whispered in his voice. "She told me she didn't want to be left behind."

Cross was silent for a long period of time. Charon could not discern what he was thinking behind his eyes, and only until Evelyn shifted to nuzzle herself closer into him, did he break from his trance to accommodate her. She yawned, rubbed her bloodstained palm in her eye, and curled her arms under the flaps of his jacket as she scooted her legs up on the seat.

"I told you they like cake," she murmured sleepily. The merc tucked her damp hair behind one ear, and she lifted her face with heavy-lidded eyes.

He slightly tilted his head back. "What the hell you talkin' 'bout?"

She only sighed contentedly and promptly returned to her state of dreams, leaving him in his puddle of confusion. Cross looked back over, but Charon would not meet his eyes.

Cross gently kissed the topside of her head, and she murmured something unintelligible into his chest.

The storm was in its final throes- in the next hour, they would be free to leave.