Carol in Underworld ran the 'inn', and she gave Anastasia rooms for cheap if she brought news of Gob, a mutual friend of the girls. He was a ghoul who worked at a saloon in Megaton, and although he was in huge debts, he was safe and had a home, so Anastasia brought only good news with her on her trips to Underworld.

She rented two rooms; they dropped everything except their caps and went to have a few drinks.

That night, Charon lay down in the small partitioned off room and tried not to think. But silence breeds thoughts and his mind was stuck on a certain woman. He couldn't help but remember the feel of her arms, the sigh of her breath…

The door opened and he instinctually went for his gun, but it was just Anastasia.

Damn it all.

She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Why are there never any blankets?"

"Burned in the war."

"It's freezing in here."

"No sunlight to warm it up. That's why they kept the name as Underworld."

She lay down next to him, just close enough where he could faintly feel her body heat.

"Charon?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you to do something a little weird?" He stiffened and said nothing, but looked at her. She was shivering in the dark, her silhouette quivering as if it was just barely there, about to disappear at any moment…

"Will you hold me?" It was a whispered request catching him off guard.

"If that is what you wish." He said, and she scooted closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder so that he could put his arm around her.

It was silent for a while. Her soft hair brushed up against his chin, her breath warmed his neck, and in sleep, she placed a hand on his chest, curling her body against him, his hand on her waist as he stared at the ceiling.

He was going through a million scenarios, a billion possibilities, and endless results. The worst part was his contract, his soul; his commandments detailed nothing about this. Would it be breaking the contract to kiss her? To hold her when she didn't ask? To pull off that armor she hid beneath?

"Charon?" the voice came out of the dark. He glanced down at her; she tugged gently at his dog tags. He used his free arm to take the chain from around his neck, although he did so reluctantly; the tags were important to him, but he knew she wanted to see them, and the contract said that she'd get what she wants.

Suddenly she scrambled out of bed; he heard her boots hit the floor, saw her silhouette standing. He sat up, looking at her.

"These are enclave tags." He said nothing. "Charon, where did you get these?" she demanded, holding them up, then the light from Carol's front room caught on them.

It was his name; last name smudged out, a rank, group, division.

She looked at him and he couldn't be sure but he though he'd seen the light glint off of tears in her eyes. "You're with the enclave?"