If you guys think this is sadism, wait until I start the next installment. ;) as always, thanks for the new reviews!


If any of the Brotherhood were hoping to get a rise out of a ghoul by insulting them, they had picked entirely the wrong one to start trying it with. Charon was completely unperturbed by anything they said regarding him, and if they said anything about Cort, he gave no visible indication that he had heard that either. His only reaction was to alter where he took her in the following days, spending more time in the Great Hall where the Pride generally stayed and less in the more varied atmosphere of the mess hall. Weirdly, the pair spent the majority of it sitting next to Knight Captain Gallows if he was there, who would also sit next to them if he came in and spotted them at the big table, usually coming in from one of his solo night operations. If the stoic Knight and the acerbic ghoul had talked at all, none of the other members had been around to see it, and the girl certainly hadn't said anything one way or the other. Kodiak and Dusk were fairly sure they had seen Gallows talking to her on more than one occasion, his ever-present helmet inclined down towards whatever ear of hers he was next to, but he stopped whenever anyone got within hearing distance.

At one point or another, all of the Brotherhood members in the Citadel had sought out the pair to ogle at one or the both of them, wanting to see the Vault kid who had killed a Behemoth, the storied James' daughter, out of interest or concern over her condition, or just morbid curiosity in seeing someone who would screw a shuffler, if Daniel Agincourt could be believed. None of the other staff from Project Purity would say anything, and when questioned, Li only muttered something about it being the 23rd century, and 'don't you think you should all get with the times?', before caustically telling whoever it was to get the hell out of the lab space she had been assigned. Some were only taking advantage of the rare opportunity to observe a living sentient ghoul up close, and were surprised to find a lot of the assumed facts concerning them had been inaccurate. Regardless of motivation, while they were there, they all saw something else that surprised them.

The ghoul had spent the first few days quietly carrying her everywhere, setting her down in different areas where she could presumably observe what was going on. He took her to sit and watch Paladin Gunny training the initiates, down into the Laboratory to see the massive robot Liberty Prime that the scribes were slaving over, and into the Library(Scribe Jameson had wonderingly reported to others that he spent his time there reading to her, exhausting the contents of the terminals one by one). He would take her around the Bailey several times a day, at first with her in his arms and then leading her by the hand when she started walking on her own, the dog heeling precisely behind her no matter the pace. Anyone spotting them in the Great Hall in the first few days would usually find him carefully feeding her there, breaking everything into small pieces before putting it into her mouth, and then watching attentively when she started doing it herself.

Observing them over the few weeks Cort was insensible, the ghoul's unwavering, patient attendance shifted the opinions of those capable of changing them, Sarah Lyons' ball-busting methods taking care of anyone else who decided to make an issue out of it. A militaristic culture of people dependent on each other for their very lives, almost all of them had been responsible for another member's care in the field at one point or another in their careers, or been taken care of themselves. While certainly the most bizarre nursemaid they had ever seen, they could place the ghoul into an appropriate and recognizable pigeonhole because of this, making his presence more acceptable to a group bound by hard line rules and regulations. Owyn Lyons had cemented the idea when he was heard describing Charon to a group of new initiates as the girl's aide-de-camp, unfailingly dutiful to an injured superior squad-mate, using it as a lesson on loyalty for the green recruits. If Willow, Quinn, and the other ghouls outside around the DC area noticed a significant drop off in the potshots taken at them by the Brotherhood after their shifts were rotated out at the end of the month, they wondered only briefly at the cause before deciding not to push their luck by looking a gift Brahmin in the mouths.


Waking up was the part of Charon's life that he currently hated the most, discovering every morning that nothing about it had changed. Going to bed was easy, another day gone, escaping from the attentions of the smoothskins filling the Citadel and back into the tiny room he shared with Cort and the dog. Returning briefly the first evening, Li had told him Elder Lyons had given them permission to stay there indefinitely, and not to worry about being harassed if they left it. Whatever else had been said over the events back at the Jefferson, the ghoul decided he didn't give a damn about it and didn't ask. He had his own problems to deal with. Sarah's statement about her recovery had proven to be correct, and after several days Cort had started walking and eating again when told, although her face remained blank and he still had to dress and wash her. The first time she had picked up her own food, he had been ecstatic, hoping that it meant she had come out of her stupor, but she hadn't responded to his gentle prodding to talk. He had gotten Irving Gallows to try when he came in one morning, and while she listened to him telling her to eat, she still didn't speak when asked to.

Contrary to his normal feelings regarding smoothskins, or anyone for that matter, Charon found himself liking the Knight Captain. He had inquired about Cort after the ghoul had silently sat next to him in the Great Hall for close to an hour while feeding her, asking in a no-nonsense way devoid of lewd interest, false sympathy, or insults based on either of their conditions, all of which he was completely tired of hearing after the first hour spent outside of their quarters. He had delivered the information in the same monotone the request had been given in and returned his attention to his employer, telling her about how to efficiently snipe bloatflies(the little buzzing bastards made for excellent practice, and he found that if you could hit them you could hit anything) when she had finished eating all of the apple he had broken apart for her. Gallows had spent another thirty minutes sitting in silence listening to him talk, and then had struck up a conversation about Spec Ops, both of them interestedly trading information about different stealth techniques and sniper rifle modifications until other people had come into the big room. The next morning he had sat by them again, and Charon had asked him to talk to her whenever possible, having discovered that the quiet man wouldn't speak to Cort like she was a brainless idiot. He talked to her continuously when they were together, about everything from lining up the perfect shot on a Super Mutant the previous evening to the betting pool Paladin Glade was running on his first name, all of it delivered in a mellow conversational tone, as if he was having a normal, everyday chat with someone instead of giving a monologue. He only stopped when anyone else came close enough to hear what he was saying.

Aside from making sure she was spoken to, Charon took Cort everywhere he could inside the Citadel. He had briefly considered trying to take her back to Megaton or Underworld, wondering if sticking her in front of the damned bartender or Carol or Barrows would fix her, and then dismissed the idea as being too risky. Finding the Laboratory and the Library had made him particularly hopeful, sure that either one would stimulate her into finally snapping out of it, especially with the ridiculously large robot contained in the former. Neither had worked, but he had dutifully read everything he found in the latter until he had run through it all, whether he understood the contents of the terminals or not. Sitting in their room this evening, four weeks after James had died, he was currently working his way through her copy of Paradise Lost, trying not to get a headache from the dense language. Leaning against the headboard, he had placed Cort against his chest, his long legs propped up on either side of her as he held the book out in front where she could see it. Dogmeat was curled up on the floor, his two-toned eyes watching both of them intently as the ghoul read aloud.

"...At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms reduc'd...what the hell? Reduced? We'll go with reduced. Thir...there's supposed to be an 'e' in that, and it's fucking going in there...shapes immense, and were at large, though without number still amidst the Hall, of that infernal Court. But far within and in their own dimensions like themselves, the great...the great...Jesus Christ, Cort, you're going to have to explain half of this shit to me when you come around. What the fuck are 'Seraphic Lords and Cherubim'?" At some point he had started picking up her method of swearing, using it as a way to comfort himself. "Whoever Milton was, he couldn't spell worth a Goddamn." Sighing, he closed the book and dropped it onto the floor, then wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Time to go to sleep Cort, it's late. I'll read to you some more tomorrow. Maybe then you can tell me what that shit is, huh?" Pressing his face into her hair, he inhaled to check something, nodding to himself when he picked up mostly her own scent. He had gotten into the habit of washing her every other day, noticing more than one person scrunching up their nose after leaning in close to talk to her in the beginning. Considering how sweaty the armoured Brotherhood members got, he assumed it wasn't in reaction to anything that normally came off of a smoothskin, and had more to do with his own particular stench rubbing off on her.

Reaching out one arm he motioned to the dog, who hauled himself up to trot over to the door. Jumping up to claw at the light switch, he plunged the room into darkness and then returned to where he had been to sprawl out. "Good mutt." Charon rolled over onto his right side, carefully taking Cort with him. This was his favourite time of day. Before sleeping, he could pretend that she was too tired to talk about anything, too tired to hold onto his hand, and almost fool himself into believing that everything was fine or would be fine in the morning. All he had to do was close his eyes, feel how warm she was, and dream. Maybe tomorrow morning she'll be back. Maybe all she needs is to sleep enough. It'll be tomorrow, I know it. Tomorrow he would wake up and have his hopes dashed all over again, and plan out what to do to pass the day with her next, but for now he could think about her waking up in the morning, back to as normal as she ever got and entirely there. Tired and wanting to get away from his own thoughts, he slipped under without waiting to hear her fall asleep, knowing it would happen shortly since he had told her to.

Quietly, and to no one in particular, a hoarse voice hesitantly spoke out some time after Charon had started making his wheezing snores, Dogmeat's tail thumping ecstatically when it did. "They're two orders of angels...first sphere...Old Testament."


Cort slowly started waking up exactly thirty days after her father died in front of her. She remembered everything that had happened while she was out of it, although it felt like she had been watching herself on some surreal holotape program. She didn't particularly want to do either. Waking up hurt, remembering made it worse. Coming back into herself meant she had to feel everything, the pain of losing James, the mortification she felt for existing as the insensible lump she had turned into in front of so many strangers, and shame over what she had done, to herself and Charon. Thinking about everything he had done for her made her want to fold in on herself all over again, and she didn't react when he got up in the morning and flicked the light on, only continued to play the shell she had lived in for the past month while she tried to figure out what to do. She almost cracked when he sat her up and looked at her hopefully, his face falling a moment later when she did nothing but stare blankly back. Fuck. What do I do, how do I even act after all this. He's going to go crazy if I just spit out a 'howdy and good morning' to him. I don't know if I could take that. I can't even take myself right now, I don't know if I'm even me...am I still me? She confusedly ran through every possible reaction she could think of as he brushed out her hair, still not having reached a conclusion by the time he picked up her left hand in his right one and tugged, grabbing an apple and a can of Cram from her pack on the way to the door. Following him, she kept trying to figure things out. Thinking hurt, and she still wasn't entirely clear-headed.

"Come on, jackass, let's go eat. Maybe Gallows will be in there this morning, it's early enough. He can tell you about blowing the heads off of things. You like that." Heading out of their room and down into the Great Hall, they found it empty except for the silent Knight Captain. Looking around carefully first to make sure there was no one else there, Charon led her over to the table and sat her down next to Gallows' right, then took the seat on the other side of her. "Hey Irving."

"Charon. Cort."

"Pool go on you yet?" Wrapping both massive hands around the apple, Charon pulled it apart with a snap, rapidly breaking it into smaller pieces and setting them in front of her before opening the can of Cram for himself and Dogmeat. "Eat, Cort." She did, listening to the two men talk. The ghoul still hadn't brought any of their weapons up from the armoury, including any of their knives he could have used to cut the fruit up with, leaving himself completely unarmed for her benefit. Chagrined for a new reason on top of everything else, Cort suppressed the urge to join her dog under the table.

"Nope. Up to a thousand caps now."

"Holy fuck. Ever going to let them drag an answer out of you?"

"Hell no, this is way too much fun. Drives them absolutely crazy. Besides, the anonymity means they leave me alone more than they would otherwise. I hate it when they bother me."

Charon shook his head and smiled, absently reaching over to nudge a bit of apple closer to one of Cort's hands. "You can be a total bastard, you know that?"

Gallows sounded pleased under his helmet. "Why yes, yes I can. Thank you kindly for noticing." Both men fell quiet as the sound of armoured footsteps started echoing up the hall, followed by voices.

'Do they still have you posted as Quartermaster, Durga?" Cort slowly blinked. She knew that voice, knew the man it belonged to from somewhere. She was puzzling over it as a little brunette woman in recon armour came through the door, answering the question.

"Yeah, not that I wanna. I'd rather be out in the field with all of you, sir."

"Not with the set of initiates I've been saddled with. You wouldn't believe what they've been sending out." Coming in behind her was a sandy-haired man in power armour, his helmet tucked under one arm. Seeing his face didn't help her recognize him, and she assumed wherever she had run into him, the helmet had been in place. She was fairly sure that whenever that had been, she hadn't liked him very much, if the way she was being irritated by his appearance was any indication.

"Yes I would sir, I get to hear Gunny bitch about them every day. You wouldn't believe what they manage to do to the training weapons, I've spent hours fixing the damn things to only get them back a day later, jammed all to hell. How did your last one, whatshisface, Trouse turn out?"

Cort blinked again, trying to work through the fog still clinging to the edges of her mind. Trouse. Christ, I know that name. Trouse. Initiate Trouse.

"Middling. I had him rotated out to GNR after he lost his nerve during an incident with some ghouls. Had trouble following through on orders to shoot after that, got obsessed with double-checking his targets." Looking away from Durga for a seat, the man Cort was wracking her brains over jerked to a halt. "Speaking of. What's the meaning of this, Knight Captain?" Durga glanced up to where he was now pointing.

"What? Oh. That's just Charon, sir, he's usually in here this time of day. Gets up early." She breezily waved an arm at the ghoul, who nodded back. "So did you need anything repaired or-"

"Hold on just a minute, Durga. What do you mean, he's 'usually in here this time of day'. What the hell is a shuffler doing in here at all?" The man glowered as Charon let out an exaggerated sigh, leaned back in his chair and then balanced on the rear legs of it while rolling his eyes. Staring at the ceiling, he missed Cort blinking twice in rapid succession.


Durga winced at the slur, knowing full well what would happen if Sentinel Lyons heard him saying it. She could admit to herself that she didn't like it very much anymore either, having gotten to know Charon a couple weeks earlier when he had pointed out an easier way to repair combat shotguns in exchange for telling the Vault kid a story. He had done similar things all over the Citadel, duly following what advice Sarah and other veterans had given him in regards to the girl, the Brotherhood members goaded into agreeing when the ghoul told them he knew how to do something better than they could. "He's taking care of Cort sir, the Vault kid Sentinel Lyons met at GNR a few months ago. They've been staying here since the incident at the Jefferson. Sir, didn't anyone tell you when you came back to the Cita-"

"You're telling me there's one of those rotten things staying here, in the headquarters of the Brotherhood." Another quick set of blinks, joined by a nostril twitching.

Feeling the proverbial hole that was being dug by the conversation reach somewhere around neck level, Durga restricted herself to a monosyllabic reply. "Yes, sir." She frowned. He was looking at the ghoul and Cort in an extremely odd and somehow nervous way she couldn't figure out.

"Well I want both of them out of here right now, Knight Captain. I don't care who the kid is, and it is inexcusable for the Great Hall of all places to be sullied by the presence of that walking corpse."

Durga latched onto her standing orders like a life preserver while shooting furious glances at Gallows. Man, I know you're in there, come out and help me or whatever, anything. "I'm sorry sir, I can't do that sir. Standing orders for everyone are to let them go wherever they please while she recuperates from her injuries, without harassment of any kind. She's got some kind of shell shoc-"

"What? Standing orders from whom?"

"Elder and Sentinel Lyons, sir." She put a hand behind her back and started flicking her fingers wildly at the other Knight Captain. Gallows, you jerk, come on, back me the hell up here. Say something, stand up, I'd settle for you picking your freaking nose at this point.


Gallows twigged to the oncoming storm brewing up in Cort before anyone else did, having a particularly sensitive set of skills and his own quiet, observing nature to rely on. He noticed things others didn't. The rapid blinking had gotten his attention first off. What he saw next was her left ear moving slightly back as her jaw clenched, the part of her face he could see tightening imperceptibly as Jeffries continued to slag the ghoul, Durga trying to deflect him and failing. What he heard was a subtle pick up in her rate of breathing, ticking slowly and quietly up into high gear. Taking the information in, he made the very correct judgment that something extremely interesting was about to happen. Not wanting to foul it up for any reason(including Durga's increasingly frantic attempts to draw him into interfering), especially if it was going to pull the kid out of herself, he remained silent and let the situation play out. He didn't have to wait long.


"You're telling me, that in the intervening time I've been away, Elder Lyons has decided to suddenly allow a brain-eating pile of filth to wander to and fro through the Citadel, including the restricted areas, with a brainless invalid? Instead of doing the proper thing and putting a bullet into its head?"

Giving up on Gallows, Durga snapped back an immediate reply, hoping that she would be turned loose sooner than later. All she had wanted to do was come out for a bowl of Sugar Bombs before starting her work for the day, and now they were being metaphorically pissed in. "Yes sir, Paladin Jeffries sir, that's exactly what I'm saying, sir."

Recognition of the man finally clicked home in Cort's head with a quiet, satisfyingly vicious snap, sliding almost sensually into place next to the fury the Paladin's statements had produced, and burning clean every dusty pathway left in her mind. "Jeffries."