Seven Years Ago
"A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness and made a full-"
"Hey, 'tender, can I get another?" A very wiry and bronze-skinned mercenary waved his empty bottle down at the handlebar mustache server. After scrounging some caps from his sand-filled pockets to slap them on the table, he spun around on his barstool to look at his companions. "You sure you don't want a cold one? It's on me."
Charon gave a very slight turn of his head, the glow of his eyes catching the light in an eerie manner. He shook a no. Cross didn't even look his way to address the offer. The only person seemingly having any life left to them (both on the inside and out), was busy giggling and exchanging hushed whispers with a pretty barmaid at a table.
Good on you, kid. Campbell thought with an inward smile. She deserved a good laugh and a nice night with some real company.
"This next song helped me through a very difficult time in my life. I hope one day it can do the same for you,"
Campbell raised his fresh drink back at the bartender before he took a long swig.
The Mojave sun was as hot as it ever was. Full of opportunity to make a decent living, rowdy with the promise of fame and fortune, and beaming with the allure of nightly bedside company that was never in short supply. A Gomorrah prostitute walked on by with a decent sway to her hips, peering over her shoulder to catch the interest in his eyes.
"I'm so blue without you,"
The seedy casino doors opened to a waft of swirling dust and the raucous footsteps belonging to an off-shift NCR unit. They pulled down their faceguards after the sandstorm had been shut behind them.
"Thought our love was true,"
Campbell gave a nod of his head as a few took up their spots around the bar. By his eye, they were all fresh-faced and no older than Lydia. A couple wore some heavy bags under their eyes, a testament to their long days of patrolling the Mojave.
"Then you found someone new,"
The mercenary listened to their idle chatter about general life and future aspirations in visiting the New Vegas Strip. It stirred a bit of reminiscence from his past about his younger years, when he was just another orphan running through the streets of Freeside. He shifted his dark eyes over to the bounty hunter who was still just brooding in his seat. He wondered if Cross even remembered that day they had first met.
A few ghoul prostitutes sidled around the stoic pair, their earlier thwarted attempts at getting some caps and cock not fazing their badgering persistence in the slightest.
"You love me so but let me go,"
Campbell couldn't reckon why they had decided to hole up in this particular casino in the first place- but it's where Cross had come, and so it's where they had followed. He imagined it was an attempt of some sort of distraction- a moment's respite from the constant weight he carried around.
"Now I'll never know,"
Even though Campbell himself didn't mourn Evelyn's passing anymore, it still cut a small hole in him at seeing the effect it had on his old friend and fellow bounty hunter. Cross had taken all of his lecherous habits and thrown them away, opting to replace that need with brutal violence on any idiot unlucky enough to stand in their way. It was some damn miracle the ferryman stuck around to tolerate and even attempt to placate the bounty hunter most times…they had become inseparable over these past couple of years.
"How our love would go."
Campbell continued to listen to the idle chatter from the troopers sitting around him. Talks of rising tensions between the Legion and the elusive west coast Brotherhood of Steel sated his curiosity for a few minutes, before he finally rose from his barstool with his beer in hand.
"Ladies, mind giving us a minute?" Campbell tipped his bottle to the side, making way for him to take a seat at the table. He gave a look between the two quiet ghouls, and then glanced over his shoulder. "I reckon we're doing the wrong sort of business here."
There was no response. Cross merely raised his stare with slits for eyes, the smoky orbs shrouded under his cowboy hat.
"I've been coming to think we're giving ourselves the short end of the shit stick these past few months…hell, even the year. We're too good for the crap we've been shoveling, yeah?" Campbell took another hearty swig, emptying his drink. He set it down on the sticky surface of the knife-nicked table.
"What're you tryin' to sell?" Cross grumbled, obviously in no mood for long-winded conversations.
"I hear there's a lot of work to be had around here…just saying, you're not a solo player anymore, and I'm looking to get paid enough to lay up for awhile." Campbell rested an elbow on the table to lean forward. "I've been getting some ideas…what do you think about running a whole merc outfit?"
The grey ghoul snorted and waved a hand. "Not interested. Ain't got the patience for a load of shits."
"Patience ain't what a merry band of mean fucks would need," the wiry mercenary nudged. "I think we'd be real good at it…take bigger jobs, cut better deals…think about it." He stood, ignoring the hateful stare Charon was boring into his skull. "Besides," he threw over his shoulder as he left to get another round, "I think I already got us a pretty damn good name."
The Present
Evelyn awoke to the bed shuddering violently. With a squint of her eyes, she struggled upright to witness the broad backside of the crimson ghoul weaving side to side like a buoy in choppy waters.
"Charon?" she whispered, blinking through the dark of the room and reaching for him.
He sloppily turned and roughly grabbed the back of her hair to tilt her head, clumsily smashing his lips against her throat. His mouth crudely kissed her down to her shoulders, and he felt her hand brace against his chest to hold him upright before he fell into her.
"Are you drunk?" she questioned incredulously.
"…yes," he slurred. One hand groped around her groin, but she kept a firm grip on his wrist to keep him from diving a few fingers inside. He grunted at her refusal. "You don't…want it?"
"Charon, what the hell?!" she snapped. "I know you had a problem, but you've never let it get this far." She peeked at the time on the clock.
2:46 am.
The ghoul tucked his head into the space between her neck and shoulder to blow a breath of hot air that tickled her nape. "Want a baby."
"Yes, we're having a baby." She rolled her eyes, hiding the fact the statement was perhaps the cutest thing he had ever admitted.
"No," he groused. "I want baby."
"Yes, he's on his way out soon."
He made a frustrated noise, leaning away from her so he could hold her head unsteadily in his palms. He slightly swayed and widely blinked down at her. "I want a baby."
It took her a few moments to process the meaning behind his words, and then she broke out in a sad smile. "Aw, Charon." She wiped the heel of her palm at her teary eyes. "I wish I knew how it happened so we could."
His eyes boggled from wide to narrow as he brusquely smeared her wet cheeks with his thumbs. "We try."
"Well, not right now."
The ghoul was already lifting his shirt up, nearly pulling himself to the floor as he tugged on it while it was still around his neck. "I can do it."
"You big, oversized dork." She sniffed up her snot and gently pushed him into the bed. His body easily gave way against her, his balance complete shit as he flopped into the array of pillows. "Sleep it off."
"I do not sleep," he muttered as he closed his eyes and laid still on the sheets.
"Yeah, well for once pretend you're a normal person and try." She shook her head and undressed the rest of him, waddling to the door and turning at the sound of his deep, rhythmic breathing. "I have to go fetch the other one."
She found Cross dead asleep over his desk, loudly snoring and drooling over his paperwork. A few smacks to his cheek did nothing to stir him. The empty bottle of liquor was beheld with a slight shake of her head before it was tossed in a bin.
"What the hell were you guys doing down here?" she mused to herself as she grabbed his shoulder and shook him roughly. "Cross! Wake up! I swear, if I have to carry you-"
The merc awoke with a snort and a chest-wracking cough. He smeared a hand over his face, unseeing and completely blitzed, blinking at this golden-tipped-haired woman standing over him.
"Fuck?" He smashed a heel into his eye. "Needin' somethin'? For you…I'll do it for free."
Oh, you are so drunk. She gently took his hand, adding to his intoxicated confusion. "Cross, let's get upstairs-"
He removed his palm and traced a thumb tip across her lower lip.
"Goddamn, you are so fuckin' beautiful." He then spun in his seat in a wavering half-circle. "Gimme somethin' top shelf-" He tried to focus his gaze across the room as he spoke to no one and nothing- he was swimming. "-hey! Can I get a drink!?"
Ugh! She relented and took a seat, watching her completely fucked up ghoul for a husband address an imaginary bartender.
Cross growled some Hungarian obscenities at the lack of service, half-turning back to her. "What's it take to get a man a fuckin' drink round here-"
He then caught a glint of the silver wedding band on his hand, and he was momentarily dumbstruck as he stared down at it. He looked around wildly, as though the explanation would present itself due to his notice of it. Evelyn held up her left hand for him to observe, and waggled her own.
"…you know 'bout this?" He was fucking clueless.
"As your wife, I sure hope so," she said dryly as his jaw dropped. "Can we go to bed now? I'm exhausted."
She stood from her seat with a weary sigh, one hand roving over the topside of her belly as the baby decided now was a good time to tap dance on her bladder. Cross was gawking at the swollen surprise she carried, and she held out a hand for him to take.
"Please, can we go upstairs? Do you know how heavy this baby is? I need to pee like right now," she nearly begged as he just sat there and stared. "If you don't get your ass moving, I'll throw you down the hall myself."
His eyes shimmered, the threat unheard. "Is that mine?" he blubbered.
Oh Lord. She thought with a withheld moan of exasperation. "It is…come on."
She began to waddle back to the room, toting a six-foot-five-inch ghoul along with her. The effort was minimal, if there was any at all.
Cross wouldn't stop nuzzling his face into her hair as she half-dragged him. "Ya know, they say I'm the best at what I do."
They stepped inside the elevator, and his hand crawled down the front of her gown to cop a breast.
"What's that?" Evelyn asked with amusement.
His breath was heavy against her neck, the tang of alcohol so strong it made her dizzy. "How 'bout we take off these clothes and I show you." He playfully nipped at the skin of her throat, and then pinned her in the corner with his arms locked out at her sides. His mouth went to crash against her own, but the rumbling shake of the elevator coming to a sudden halt made him tip backward instead.
She grabbed him by the jacket before he could fall flat on his ass and shuffled him forward after the doors opened. "Now I'm afraid to ask you when you're sober if that line has actually worked on someone."
"Heh." He stupidly grinned. "Baby, where the hell do ya think we're goin'?"
"Drunk off your rocker, and yet still a smartass," she muttered to herself as they began the endeavor up the stairs.
He wobbled uncertainly until she wrapped an arm around his middle and practically carried him the rest of the way. A warbled drinking song was mumbled from his mouth as they walked down the rest of the way to their room, the chorus becoming interrupted with every smack of his lips against her face.
"I've had plenty of women," he slurred as he was finally plopped into bed beside the other ghoul, his clothes and boots being removed in much the same manner. "…but damn…wish they had all been you."
"Do you even know who I am?" Evelyn helped him to lie down before he lurched forward onto the floor.
"You're goin' to be my wife," he rasped seriously. "God, I want to marry you." He held out a hand for her to take, which she clasped gently and kissed.
"Get some sleep, husband of mine," she mused.
"Heh," he chortled as he closed his eyes. "Like how that sounds."
Before she could undress herself to wiggle in between, the ghouls subconsciously moved closer to the warm body beside them, with Charon's arm curling over the merc's chest and Cross's own reciprocating around his waist. Cross tucked his head below the ferryman's jaw, Charon exhaled loudly through his nostrils, and everything stilled.
"Oh, you've got to be shitting me," she muttered crossly. The sight of them so intimately close together conflicted with a reaction of hot jealousy and extreme pleasure. She looked for any possible path to maneuver herself and the baby into…but she found none. "Fine. You both deserve each other, anyway," she grumped.
She nabbed her best pillows and flicked off the light before leaving the room.
Charon had been the first to…wake.
At first, he felt as though he had simply dozed off, his thoughts becoming farther and farther from reach until he was suddenly alert. The ghoul hadn't slept in decades; he had been unconscious, before, but it was not as relaxing as this experience had been. He still had not realized that he had truly fallen asleep (for hours) until he began to trace a few fingers down the length of…something definitely not Evelyn. Charon immediately snapped his eyes open, sitting upright in a flash and disturbing his bedside companion.
"Jesus, keep it down, will ya?" Cross grumbled from behind a thick curtain of slumber. His own hand was wandering around too closely by Charon's morning wood; it stopped before it could make direct contact, swiping up at an inhuman speed to feel the hard surface of Charon's chest. The merc cracked an eye open, and instantly rolled away. "Goddamnit. Not the first thing I want to see in the fuckin' mornin'. We're gettin' a bigger bed."
"Where is Evelyn?" Charon rasped.
Cross sat upright, rubbing the sleep from his face and looking at the time on the clock. It was very early. "Babe?"
"I did not hear her leave."
"Fuck…I don't even remember being in here…" The merc abruptly paused in wiping his hands across his weary expression and slowly turned his head around. "…fuck you remember from last night?" He looked down at himself. "I didn't take off these clothes."
"I…I do not know," Charon said nervously. "I remember drinking…"
The dreary atmosphere, the sullen mood. The what if's that lingered in the back of their brains, behind the actual reality of what-was instead of what-could-have-been. It had been a single shot, a casual taste of something strong and smooth that Cross had kept stashed away for years. It was then a knuckle's worth…and then a full glass.
They had argued about the mission. They had toasted to being undeserving lucky bastards. Cross had cried about becoming a father while Charon had looked through the bottom of his empty glass and thought about the woman upstairs…
The two ghouls suddenly felt extremely tense and awkward with neither meeting the other's eyes...but then they both raised their stares, and looked away just as quickly. Cross cleared his throat. Charon was flexing his hands into fists; he wanted to sock the merc dead in the mouth. They both added to the stifling atmosphere in the room as they dressed and left quickly, each avoiding the other as they searched random areas for any sign of their missing lover.
"Evelyn?" Cross called out into the kitchen. Lydia was reaching into a pantry; an empty plate and a glass of brahmin milk were on the counter. "You know where-?"
"Downstairs. The office." Lydia turned with a box of snack cakes in her hand. "Heard you had a nice night."
Charon punched the button to the elevator doors closed before the merc could step inside.
"Prick," Cross growled as he waited to go down below.
When he rounded into his office five minutes later- in what felt like an eternity- he halted at the sight he was seeing. Evelyn was seated in his chair, poring over a multitude of open books on his desk with a pen at her elbow. She would write something off to the side on a piece of paper, not bothering to address either man waiting on her attention.
Charon folded his arms and began to tick a finger along his bicep. Cross rubbed at his head and blew out a sigh.
Lydia came in shortly after, presenting the snacks and milk she had prepared at Evelyn's elbow. "You need anything else?"
Evelyn finally raised her head and smiled. "No, thank you."
The shaven-head woman gave a raise of her brow at the male company. "You want them out?"
"What?" they both rasped in unison.
"No. It's fine." Evelyn crossed out something on her sheet of paper, and then dug around a few folders before pulling out another.
Lydia ignored the ghouls completely as she left the room.
Charon just tapped away at his arm, his face unreadable but his eyes like hot stones as they stared at her.
"Evelyn!" the merc finally snarled, his earlier unease worming into straight disdain.
"Why don't you take a seat?" She calmly placed her pen down to the side and tenderly tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "Now."
They both scrambled to do as they were told, the chairs sighing under the weight.
"Look, about last night, we-we-" He licked his lips and angrily shook his head. "We didn't fuckin' do anythin'."
"You mean you didn't get stupidly drunk, were carried to bed, and then cuddled together to force me to sleep elsewhere?" she mused. "Why are you getting so worked up over this? I'm the one who should be pissed."
Cross stood and set his hands to his hips. "I ain't into men," he announced to seemingly no one in the room.
Charon snorted. "I do not know what gave you the impression that I was."
Cross suddenly slammed a hand down on the files of paperwork she had dredged up. "Only reason this fuck gets to touch you is cause you wanted it. You really think I want to share my woman with another man?"
Charon worked his jaw angrily, his internal fuse blowing sparks. "The only reason you have made it this far is because she asked me to."
The merc turned around, interlocking themselves in a stand-off.
"I didn't want that fuckin' contract, I didn't ask for it!"
"I did not have a choice! You were the one who was selfish, and stupid-!"
"Should've taken that deal with your contract back at Gomorrah."
"What?"
"Should've fuckin' thrown you away and never had to deal with your shit again."
"You would not have made it very far- that bullet would have stopped you first."
"Oh my God, quit it!" Evelyn finally snapped. "What is wrong with you two?! You're acting like the world is ending because you snuggled. Sheesh. You guys don't give two shits about having your dicks rubbed together, but cuddling is a problem?!"
"That's different," Cross stated firmly, as though it was some unspoken law. "That's with you."
Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Who honestly really cares? You two make me happy, you two make each other happy, is this really going to end everything all at once?"
"Hell makes you think that this cunt makes me happy?" Cross glowered.
Evelyn began to tick off her fingers dramatically. "Um, one: you're always together. Two: you tell each other everything. Three: you were so mopey when Charon was gone-"
Charon became perplexed as he looked at the other ghoul. "You were?"
"No I fuckin' was not," Cross snarled. "I was glad to have my wife to myself, for fuckin' once."
"I swear, you two act more like a married couple than we do," Evelyn said dryly. "You don't have to have sex to admit you love each other."
The glowing ghoul gave a guttural cough as the ferryman snapped a look of complete disgust.
Cross held up a hand, nervously licking his lips as they avoided each other's eyes. "We don't-"
"If you're going to stand there and straight up lie to me, then you might as well tell him that," Evelyn interrupted with an irritated snip. "You guys have come very far from actually hating each other. I remember when Charon threw you through a wall and you pointed a gun at him. It's childish to not admit you've grown. I see how you look at the other."
They remained quiet until Charon finally rasped, very quietly, "what do you see?"
Her eyes softened, and her tone drew mellow. "I think you know."
Charon flexed his hands so tightly into fists that the leather of his gloves creaked. He then spun around on his heel and promptly left the room without another word.
"I know what love is," Cross rasped defiantly as he pointed a finger at the door. "And that, ain't it."
"Oh my God, fine! Whatever! Figure it out yourselves, big babies. Have hell of a trip!" She wearily rubbed a few fingers against her temple, suddenly appearing exhausted as she looked down at the assorted scribbles and notes she had made. "I've been up almost all night trying to figure this memory code of Darcy's out…Lydia told me that it was best described as some kind of puzzle-"
The merc still just stood in his spot, completely sullen and not really paying any mind to her ramblings. "Leave it till we get back, don't matter anyhow," he grumbled off to the side.
Evelyn slammed the cover of a book closed, angrily rising from her seat (with difficulty).
"I know you wouldn't be this upset over something if it didn't matter to you," she said with terse conviction as she waddled to him. She placed a hand around his waist, tapping her fingers against the solid wall of muscles. "I sometimes wonder if you two aren't closer to each other than I am with either of you…you both went through a lot, when I was gone. You don't have to throw it away just because I'm back."
Cross gnashed his teeth with his foul expression darkening over her. He appeared to have something he wanted to say, but he instead sighed and put his hands on the underside of her belly.
"Told myself we'd be leavin' this afternoon-" The instant quiver of her lower lip and the blooming of the world's saddest puppy eyes made him click his tongue in frustration. "-but the road will still be there in the mornin'." He moved her palm to cup his crotch. "Ya want to take a bath? I'll make up for last night."
She removed her hand from the ever-growing bulge under his zipper to flick his forehead. "Is this the part where you tell me 'they say I'm the best at what I do'?"