The Distance Apart
Money was tight. It was probably the first time in some two hundred years that he'd actually had to worry about his finances. It's not that he had ever stopped eating during that time… he'd just never had to pay for it. And ammo was expensive. Stimpaks were expensive. Everything was really fucking expensive when you had to work for it.
Charon had managed by doing odd jobs here and there for some of the smaller settlements that were, as best as he could recall, more in what used to be Maryland than DC. But the real caps were in killing super mutants, and the big super mutant infestations were in DC. Which was problematic, to say the least.
He'd been very careful at staying out of the thick of things. But even ghouls needed more than the occasional braham steak to keep functioning. And he knew from experience that there was always someone in the Capital who wanted someone else dead, and didn't give a shit if it was a ghoul they were paying to do it. So when his stomach couldn't stand it anymore, he decided to head a little ways into the Capital Wastes.
It hadn't changed at all in the past year. Though it really hadn't changed must in the past century, so he wasn't sure what he had been expecting. He felt on edge as he made his way to his next job, working off a lead someone had given him up in Silver Spring, and his unease had nothing to do with scenery.
He hated acknowledging it. Thought it made him pretty damn weak. But that smoothskin Vault kid had gotten under his skin in the short time he'd known her. While half of him screamed that he needed to find her and see her and… something, the other half of him was dead set against it. She'd fired him. There was still salt in that wound and he would need another decade or two to brood on it before he thought he'd be able to face her again with any show of indifference.
But like hell he was going to let her keep him out of DC. It was a big place. The likelihood of them running in to each other – because he was definitely going to continue avoiding her – was very low. All he had to do was stick to people who'd never met the "Lone Wanderer," the "Messiah of the Wastes" or whatever other nonsense these people said. No Rivet City, no Megaton, no Underworld, hell, no Paradise Falls just to be sure.
He sighed heavily.
No Lone Wanderer.
She'd gotten word from the good ol' Republic of Dave that there were Super Mutant problems in the Northeast. Normally she wouldn't care – there were Super Mutant problems everywhere – but it did seem odd for such a (reportedly) large cluster of them to be in that area. And she felt she owned Rosie a solid favor for sticking her in charge.
Lots of the smaller settlements in the area were willing to let her stay a night or two as she hunted the mutants during the day. Several of them even offered to pay her – hell, they even admitted to hiring out some mercs to take care of the problem – but she'd just smile and dismiss their offers. She had more caps than she could ever possibly spend – why the fuck would she want more? Especially to do something she was more than happy to do for free.
She'd briefly considered asking Fawkes to join her, but dismissed the idea. She felt bad asking him to help her kill his own kind (even allowing for the fact that he was much smarter and more reasonable). Besides, she hadn't been good company lately. Leo Stahl had said as much when she'd kicked him out of her bed a few weeks ago.
He was more fun when he was a junkie, she thought dryly.
Oh well, she wasn't particularly interested in Leo anyway. Just someone to help her pass the time while in Megaton. Decent guy (former drug problem aside), but not her type.
What was her type, anyway?
If she considered every guy she'd been with in the past year (only seven or so – not a low number, but relatively modest, she thought), she'd gotten bored of all of them pretty easily. It didn't take her long to find something she didn't like about them. Something that for some reason she couldn't ignore for the sake of all the good qualities they had. But what was she being picky for? Who was she even looking for?
On a completely unrelated topic, or so she told herself, she'd started dreaming of Charon in the last few months. Nothing really concrete or clear. Just him being back, fighting with her again. She wasn't sure if she liked this or not. Sure, she'd wake up with a smile on her lips, but when she realized it had only been a dream there would be a tightening in her chest and a pain in her gut. Whatever that meant.
And now here she was, cornered behind a car on a bridge overlooking a not so modest sized drop on to the scrap metal remains of other vehicles that had fallen years ago when the other half of the bridge had collapsed. Overall, lovely place to die. At least, she'd been in worse.
She'd been a little… The word "careless" came to mind in the voice of her former ghoul companion, but she shoved it aside. No. Overzealous. That was a much better word.
She'd been a little overzealous. Seen a couple mutants at the collapsed portion of the bridge, fighting over the remains of a dead body. Fucking weirdos. So she'd charged, screaming a battle cry that surprisingly managed to startle them long enough for her to pump them full of lead. Unfortunately, her scream had alerted their buddies, who were now blocking her way off said bridge.
As she counted out her ammo and wondered if it was worth using a grenade, she laughed humorlessly to herself. It made her think a little more about why she'd really taken this super mutant gig. She sure as hell loved killing the bastards, but she didn't have to go this far out of her way to do it. Any time she visited Three Dog she'd get her fair share to deal with. If she thought about it, actually analyzed her decision, she had only two explanations why she was repeatedly taking these ridiculously dangerous and in a lot of ways pointless jobs.
Either she was so bored she'd do ANYTHING to break up the monotony. A boredom that was essentially no different from a death wish, she couldn't help but think as she peeked around the edge of the car to see the mutants making their way closer. She ducked back quickly as a spray of bullets was aimed towards her.
Why did super mutants have to be so… big?
But if she was honest with herself – which she usually wasn't unless it was in near-death instances like the present one – the real reason she took these backwater jobs was… she just wanted to see Charon again. If she worked outside of her usual circles, strayed a little farther away from the Mall, maybe she'd eventually find someone who had heard of him. Didn't it stand to reason that someone in this fucking Wasteland knew where he was? He couldn't just disappear off the face of the planet.
The sound of a shotgun drew her attention. It sounded too far away to be the mutants, unless more of them were making their way over. Which was the last fucking thing she needed. She chanced another look, this time through the remains of the glass windows. The image was a little blurry, but it was obviously a man. The details of his appearance escaped her. Didn't much matter. Non-mutant fighting mutant and saving her ass. Who gave a crap who it was?
The super mutants turned their attention to new arrival, leaving their backs exposed to her assault rifle. Even her peaceful father, god rest his soul, would forgive the evil smirk as she opened fire.
The other merc – god, she really fucking hated to admit that that's basically what she was – was shooting from the other side of the bridge. You know, the side she'd come in on. The one that was her only way out of this shit hole. That side.
Between the two of them, they were making short work of the Mutants. The whole thing – the speed and efficiency with which they worked, the sound of his shotgun, the way he moved – pulled at her insides. She ignored the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the fire that danced beneath her skin as some latent memory was triggered. Instead she just kept shooting.
When all ten of them (Ten, for fuck's sake!) were taken care of, she immediately holstered her gun and began picking the bodies for loot. She might be rich as sin, but old habits and all. As she stood up from the third completely useless body (Not even a fucking cap! Not one. Single. Bloody. Cap.), she couldn't help the exasperated huff of air she blew out. Oh well, at least she'd gotten to kill something.
She heard the merc approaching slowly behind her. She ignored him as she moved on to the next mutant. If he'd wanted to kill her, he would've done it already. And she wasn't really in the mood to talk. Maybe he'd get the hint. She kicked angrily at the body when it produced only some pre-war money. And the damn paper smelt, covered as it was with super mutant perspiration. Fucking fantastic.
She could tell the guy was probably five, maybe ten?, feet behind her and had planted himself firmly. "Thanks for your help and all," she said dismissively, "but I'm not much of the talking type." She laughed in her head, remembering a time when that hadn't been true.
And then he said her name. A voice she'd never forgotten, and was now sure she must be imagining. Even so, her body immediately froze, every muscle going tense.
No. Fucking. Way.
Charon hadn't thought today would be half as interesting as it had turned out. After killing a deathclaw that had been fighting some radscoprions, he'd gotten a free meal from some Scavenger who was grateful. Then the guy had started going on and on about the Lone Wanderer and how she was helping them out with the Super Mutants here and had he heard of her etc. Luckily Charon had remembered not to give his name. Now he'd just have to get out of the area before he ran into her.
Then he'd managed to come across a pack of Super Mutants – and there was really no other way to describe them, their numbers hovering around a dozen – and had trailed them all the way to a burnt out bridge. He was thinking how best to blast them without getting himself blown to bits, when they had sped up onto the bridge.
What the hell?
Then they'd started shooting. For a minute he thought they were shooting at him, but they appeared to have not noticed him. There was someone on the bridge, presumably, that had gotten their attention. As he edged closer, he thought he saw a small figure hiding behind a car, two dead mutants nearby. Well, at least he knew what they were shooting at.
He wasn't sure why his protective instincts were triggered. He thought he didn't have any. At least not once his contract had been dissolved. And even then, it was more of an obligation than a desire to help. Whatever the reason, he found himself moving out of cover and shooting for their exposed backs.
During a fight, he always lost focus of anything that wasn't completely relevant to his survival (or to the survival of his employer). He noticed in an offhand sort of way that the person behind the car had decided to join the fight (Charon was right – he was small). Acknowledged that they seemed to anticipate each other's moves, never going for the same target but instead systematically making their way from opposite ends towards those in the center.
Before the last mutant had finished hitting the ground, the kid (must be a kid to be so small – certainly no more than twenty) began looting the bodies. Charon lowered his weapon but out of habit didn't put it away. The kid might be grateful for getting his ass saved, but in the Wastes that didn't stop people form putting a bullet in your brain. Especially if you were a ghoul.
He was about to leave, to not even bother with a greeting or any other such nonsense, when he happened to glance at the form picking through bodies. Something about the figure held his attention.
Small indeed, but as he looked over her back he realized it was because it was a girl. The prominent curves of her hips indicated that she was not actually a girl so much as a woman. Obviously not as tall as him, but not actually all that short. By no means a giant, she seemed… properly sized. The illusion of smallness came from her lithe form and tight armor. She was not one to take up more space than necessary.
Still, just because he'd saved some woman's life, didn't mean he had to stay and talk about it. He still had to get out of here as soon as possible if he wanted to avoid her. But he was transfixed as he watched her (familiar?) movements. He didn't even realize he'd moved towards her until he was close enough to hear her frustration with the empty corpses. He watched as she kicked one of the bodies, not at all sure why he was still there.
And then she spoke and his world stopped. He knew that voice. God, did he know that voice.
His breath went in sharply, almost painfully, and as it came out it tore her name from his lips. She froze, as if she'd been hit, and turned her icy glare towards him. Her eyes met his, and he swore his heart stopped.
Shit.
AN: Longer chapter than I had expected. Only one chapter left - in which I will totally make it up to both the LW and Charon. Promise.
Apologies if the action in the scene didn't come off too well. I have problems describing that sort of thing, particularly fights, so I tend to be a little vague.
Thanks to those of you who had reviewed so far - I appreciate the feedback.