Evelyn, there is no home for you here.
Her cold skin was soon slick with sweat; the tendrils of hair that had been delicately brushed became tangled and clung to the sides of her face and neck. There was a tinge of copper; foul, laced with the putrid drop of death that crept across her tongue like a delicate spider spinning a web of future nightmares for her to swallow.
I'm here for Darcy…I'm…a relative. She told me she would be here…waiting for someone.
She'd seen that look before. Pity.
She didn't want it.
It wasn't deserved.
All at once she gasped and screwed her eyes shut, folding into herself as she bit back a wrenching sob from her throat. There was no room for weakness at this moment; she had told them she could do it; that it had to be done. Cross was waiting with bated breath for her to return; they wouldn't have let him come near the body. Too suspicious.
Darcy was so cold…she had the design of a much younger woman, perhaps younger than herself. Evelyn stood over her corpse, quiet and still and looking down at this body she had not laid eyes on for years. Her fingers were slipping, fumbling around inside that bloated mess of gray matter inside her reconfigured skull. She vomited to the side; it got in her snow-white hair. She tried to pick out the pieces from between the strands whilst wiping the hot snot and tears dripping off her chin.
Fuck, I'm sorry-no-you'renotreal,you'renotreallyher-
She was grateful she had no eyes. The birds already had their morning pickings before she could be buried.
The merc slumped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon."
She looked up. Her bloodied hands were shaking. She didn't remember walking back to him. More than a few glares were given at their pairing as they walked through the mid-morning foot traffic out of Sanctuary. Cross challenged them all with a silent stare that made her shiver.
She washed her hands in the babbling stream that was still pregnant from the storm, the ribbons of blood fading under the flow of frigid water. She lifted her head, and all at once felt queasy and lightheaded with a pounding thrush of blood to her temple. The heel of her palm smashed into her eye, rubbing circles of light into her brain from the pressure she applied.
The sun grew dark with passing clouds, casting the wasteland under a gray hue. It made Cross radiate a faint glow.
"You don't need to carry somethin' like that," Cross rasped in a low tone; an attempt to soothe. His fingers curled around her palms with a careful ease at parting the burden she held. "It's okay, I got it. Let me take it."
She blew out a breath of spittle and pained emotion. She had been standing off to the side, her face nothing but a blank sheet as she tried to see things that were not there. Something was pressed into her hands, replacing the memory node she had taken from Darcy's brain.
It was a drink. It was icy.
"Try this."
Her eyes squinted at the faded label of the words Vim! Refresh. "What?"
Cross held her ruddy face, tunneling her vision to his eyes. They were still, dark water with no reflection. "Take a sip, while it's still cold."
She obeyed, and instantly scrunched her expression into one of disgust and rude surprise. With a cough, she held it away, her attention now refocused on the beverage he had gifted her.
He winked. "Thought ya might like it."
She closed one eye and stuck her tongue out to the side as she peered down the neck of the glass. "What the hell is in it?"
"Tell me." He snugged one hand past the waistband of her pants and squeezed her ass.
She sniffed it, took another small sip, and her face scrunched in a displeasing manner.
"Oh my God! It's so sour!" she gasped.
Cross gave an experienced dip of his tongue inside her mouth. "You're right…it is sour."
He took the bottle for himself for a proper swig, shrugged, and took another.
"Just tastes like crap to me," he rasped. His eyes squinted off into the distance as he continued to drink. "Don't see why Lydia likes this shit," he muttered under his breath.
She had paid a hefty amount of her cut for a whole crate of the damn things just a couple of months ago…it was when Russel had come into the picture, new to the job and doing the shit work rookies were expected of them. The sudden remembrance of the russet-haired woman instantly turned the sour aftertaste on his tongue to rancid. He was still pissed off he had let her wiggle inside the cracks so easily, snapping up at his attention and lust like a fisherman would with mirelurk bait. If he had chosen to stay because of that one, stupid fucking kiss…
He shuddered to linger any thoughts on it.
With a swipe of his arm behind himself, he chucked the bottle as far as he could. The remaining liquid foamed over the topside of the bottle, spraying wildly as it flew through the air.
Evelyn pouted beside him. "I mean...it wasn't that bad."
A small avalanche of gravel made them turn to the sound of Charon sliding down the embankment.
"Sinjin is not here," was all he said in a flat, emotionless tone.
Cross grumbled some foreign indignities under his breath and rubbed at his eyes. "I'll up the bounty…make it someone else's problem."
Evelyn wrapped her arms around his middle inside his jacket, but opted to say nothing.
Splat!
Cross mumbled something incoherent behind his smoldering cigarette as he snapped the shotgun back into place. His three fingers rubbed her back as she spewed her late breakfast on her shoes. A bone-chilling roar erupted from behind their cover of an old freighter.
"You goin' to be okay?" he rasped.
"Just fucking kill it," she moaned, bent over with her hands on her knees as she stood there hating all life and everything in it as she forced her stomach to settle. "Ugh."
Cross burned his smoke straight down to the filter, flicked the butt to the pavement, and peered around into the courtyard. Smoke plumed from his nostrils like some otherworldly creature while he waited for an opportunity to take a clean shot.
Somehow, Commonwealth deathclaws were an even bigger pain in the ass than any other region he'd encountered them in. And this one, this big one, was no exception.
A frag grenade splintered concrete and metal at its feet. Charon had placed himself on the west end of the square, climbed a scaffold for some advantageous height, and blew off a few headshots. The shells scraped off the thick hide of the mutated creature's skull; it only seemed to piss it off.
"Christ," Cross grumbled, and he gave her a quick look. "Wait here a sec."
He was going to have to get in uncomfortably close.
The deathclaw rattled the metal framework and bellowed its frustration in being unable to swipe at its prey. It backed up a few paces while the ghoul reloaded, lowered down on its haunches, and then sprang a few feet forward with an outstretched claw the size of a fire hydrant.
Charon dodged just enough to where the tips of the talons screeched over the chest piece of his armor, the high-pitch shriek ringing his ears. With a roar rivaling that of the deathclaw's, he took the opportunity to unload a round into its gaping maws. It blew a hole through the right side of its mandible, unhinging it to hang awkwardly to the side. A waft of humid, rotten breath swamped over him before the creature slammed back down to the ground, spattering blood everywhere around it.
Cross cleared over a barrier, blew a sharp whistle to draw its attention for a perfect double-barreled shot at its right eye…and went sailing across the courtyard from a flick of its tail. He was body-slammed into the edge of a brick building, almost severing his spine in half. The world grew cold and black for a few seconds as he wavered on consciousness- some shouts and devilish screaming were muffled to him, and then everything came back like a swift kick in the nuts.
The deathclaw had turned to face the smallest opponent dragging something into the fight. It lashed a swipe of its claws and was promptly batted off to the side by a swing of her makeshift metal bat, as though it were nothing but a mere oversized playful feline. A blood-curdling squeal, followed by a pitiful exhale of air, and a final gory squish as the end of a truck axle remained lodged in the scramble of the deathclaw's brains after she hammered away at it. Evelyn dropped her end, wiped a forearm across her damp forehead, and sat down.
Charon leapt from his perch, replacing the threat of the deathclaw with a savage snarl at his lips. He holstered his gun as he stomped over to her, waving a knife-hand at the mess she had made.
"What the fuck were you thinking!?"
"I don't care!" she snapped in equal rage. Her head became cradled in her hands, and she closed her eyes. Her voice grew much softer. "I feel like absolute shit. You were taking forever."
The ghoul for once didn't argue, but instead gave a mean snort and looked over in the direction of his employer. Cross hobbled for a few minutes until he leaned backward with his hands on his lower spine to release a sickening crack.
"I'm too old for this crap," he groused, proceeding with his chin in hand and rearranging some upper vertebrae. He breathed a sigh of relief and rolled his shoulders. "Hopefully no more of those bastards."
Charon cast aside his heated persona as he scooped their sick smoothskin up despite her pathetic protests in the form of groans. He shifted her to lay on his chest, and she eventually contented herself with her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head nestled in the crook of his neck. It wasn't the first time he had to lug her ass around, and he was certain it wouldn't be his last.
The hours passed until they crossed the bridge that welcomed them back into the folds of the city skylines, the ghouls navigating their way easily through the city while their lover slept in Charon's embrace. The looming parking garage came around into view, and the merc popped his back with a groan. "Should've spent the night at Cambridge. What a fuckin' hike."
"She is not well. I am sure she will appreciate being back."
"Things I do for love," the merc joked as they stepped inside.
A jukebox was blaring music from inside a department store that was dedicated to Lydia's robotics. Lyrics bounced off the walls around them, startling Evelyn awake.
"Everything's kickin', whole lotta shakin' goin' on!"
"Fuckin' finally," Cross muttered under his breath as he stalked off towards the commotion.
"Who's that?" Evelyn asked sleepily as she was set to her feet.
"I believe some of the crew is here," Charon mused as he watched the merc turn the corner into her shop. The music abruptly stopped. A wrench was sent flying, smacking him cleanly in the head, followed by high-pitched screaming. Charon held Evelyn back with one hand on her shoulder. "…he deserves this."
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! HOW COULD YOU?!" Lydia screeched as more tools were sent sailing through the open archway. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON YOU INCONSIDERATE PRICK!"
Cross flew his hands into the air. "Whoa, hey! You seriously goin' to shoot me?!"
A disheveled and partly deranged woman shouldered past him with a gun in her hand, looking around wildly until her eyes landed on Evelyn. With a twist of her lips into a grimace, she took a deep breath, and then took aim. Charon swiftly shoved Evelyn behind him just as Cross smacked Lydia's arm to the ground, the bullet making a clean hole in the flooring.
"What the hell are you thinkin'?!" Cross bellowed as he wrestled the firearm from her.
"She's a synth! How can you not fucking see that?!" Lydia screamed, and she thrust a knife-hand at the quiet woman peering around Charon's arm. "Look at her!"
"I HAVE!" Cross shouted, his voice thundering down the hallways. "She ain't a fuckin' synth, and if you'd calm down for five goddamn seconds and explain to me what the hell it is you're doin', then maybe I would fill you in." He unclipped the stock from the gun and threw it into the wall with enough force it powdered concrete dust into the air. He took a step closer to her, the look on his face anything but friendly. "You ever think 'bout doin' that again, kid, and I'll put you in the ground, you understand?"
Lydia shook, and then all of her anger dissolved into hysterical sobbing. She tackled him with a fierce hug, crying into his chest as her fingers twisted his jacket.
"Th-they're all gone! It's all gone!" she sobbed. "It's all my fault!"
Cross blinked, and then wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace. "Jesus, kid, you're goin' to wake the whole Commonwealth with that fuckin' racket."
"It's all gone!" she wailed. "I fucked up, I'm so sorry!"
"Heyhey, you're gettin' my jacket soaked."
"What the fuck did you think was going to happen?!" Lydia hiccupped. "You left with no explanation, no chance to fucking talk it over or just think about the consequences you'd be leaving behind! I have been on my hands and knees for weeks now because of you, you selfish fucking asshole!"
"I left you with a goddamn setup, you were supposed-!"
"You just left!" she shrieked; her fists balled at her sides. "Why couldn't you just tell me?! Everything is gone now, the whole fucking base is gone! We lost Walsh, Dino, everyone! They're dead! So tell me just how fucking smart I am!" She hastily wiped at her face. "I'm not like you- I never wanted to be like you. I just wanted to be with you, because you're the only family I have."
"Lydia, you need to breathe and tell us what happened-"
"Tell you what happened?!" She laughed, hollow and mean. "Why the fuck don't you start first?! Where the fuck have you been-" She thrust a finger at Evelyn. "-just who the fuck is that?! I know sure as shit that isn't who I think it is!"
Cross suddenly looked all two hundred years of his age. "Ya need to calm down, kid. Goin' to make yourself sick if ya keep at it like you are."
"She's here." Lydia wiped a fist at her nose. "She fucking came back."
Cross sharply lined his brow muscles. "Who?"
"Russel." She watched him for any hint of a reaction, but he betrayed none. "She showed up not even ten minutes after we did. We got her locked up in the cell…she's fucking ghouling."