It was, by Charon's guess, around one in the morning when she got out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. Charon didn't pay attention at first. Then he heard her start to cry and immediately rolled out of bed.
She was sitting on the floor, head in her hands, back against the wall. Her hair was falling out of its holder, half up, half down. She noticed him and immediately stood and went to him, falling into his arms.
"Damn her…" she sobbed, and Charon hugged her tightly. "I-it's not like I wanted to stay b-but this is where I grew up! I-I have a r-right to be here!"
"You've got a new home now. You don't need the vault." Charon said softly into her hair, still holding her.
"I-I know it's just…I feel like this p-place is all I have left of m-my mother and father." She sniffled, and Charon put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length, looking her in the eyes.
"You're stronger than this." She nodded, and hiccupped.
"I know."
"Come on, let's go back to sleep."
"Let's go now."
"In an hour. You need at least a bit of sleep. Let's go."
She wrapped her arms around one of his, like a child. Charon was slightly worried; she was so much stronger than this, and suddenly she just keeps breaking down.
They got back in bed, and she scooted closer to him. He felt her soft breathing on his cheek and turned to look at her, even though the room was virtually pitch black. Almost without thinking, he placed a hand on her cheek and gently wiped away a tear with his thumb.
Anastasia felt her heart stop as she felt the blankets shift, knowing he was getting ever closer, and her lips moved soundlessly, a burning craving about to be satisfied. His hand on her face was cold, real, like an electrical current was running through her veins.
Charon wasn't going to stop now. It was much too late for that; he was on fire. She'd admitted to liking him, right? He hesitated for less than a millisecond, but his body overruled his mind as he leaned in, closing the space between them.
They kissed softly, then, realizing she wasn't pulling away, Charon pulled her into him, arms around her waist. They kissed more passionately then, tongues tangling in a desperate dance, Charon's hands tangled in Anastasia's hair. He could taste the saltiness of tears on her lips, mixed with the sweetness of her cherry lips. Anastasia had one hand grasping his arm, as if he might try to go if she let go, and the other one on his chest, feeling the grooves of his muscles through his undershirt. Minutes passed and finally they separated, both a little hungry for air, a little tired, a little surprised, and very pleased. He gazed at her black silhouette in the dark, wishing he could see her. Her hand traced his muscles and veins, feeling areas he had no skin left, scars from his battles. His hand stroked her long hair, which cascaded down his chest from where her head rested, nestled in the curve between his shoulder and his neck.
Finally they fell into a light sleep, still tangled up on each other.