Note: Continuing my apology, here is another chapter right away.

Charon entered Megaton, with little on his mind but the pressing urge to find his employer. He noticed immediately that her house was missing. Just gone, even the supports that would have held it up on the side of the crater. It was unusual, and he was not sure how to react to it.

He had to find her. She should be here; she was not at the Citadel, and she was not at the memorial where her father had died. The only other place he could think she might be was here, where her home was.

Where her home should have been. Charon turned to look down into the town. No one seemed to be around, except for one familiar ugly face that he rightfully wished was not there. Jericho, on the hill, looking up at him. Charon stared at him, his face impassive.

Jericho stared right back at him without any expression. Then a switch was hit, and his face split into the largest shit-eating grin that Charon had ever had the displeasure to see. Something Ahzruhkal might have evinced, if his face had not been rotting right off his bones. It reminded him of why he was glad to have shot him.

Charon's eyes turned to slits as the old ex-raider rambled up the dirt hill toward him. Stood there, silent as he had ever been, waiting for the man to say something. He could not react to the man other than to stare him down―not without a direct order from Emily, or unless Emily was threatened by him.

But Emily was not here. Charon had not found her.

"You looking for the slut?" Jericho asked, laughing and coughing at the same time. He patted his chest with a fist and grinned wider. If that were possible.

Charon growled threateningly. A verbal attack on Emily, while annoying, was not cause for violence against the grimy bastard. As much as he wished it were. "Where is Emily," he asked, baring his teeth.

"She's right there, fuck, you go blind?" Jericho gestured with one hand up the hill. "Swear to God, fuckin' zombies―"

As soon as Charon turned to see what he was pointing at he heard the slick noise of a knife being unsheathed, and jerked himself back to the ex-raider at the same time the knife came down.

Up to the hilt in his neck, down into the flesh behind his collarbone. Had to give the man some credit, he picked an extremely good spot to stab someone. It had severed his carotid artery and pierced the top of his lung, blood gushing hotly onto his leather armor. Charon went numb from shock, felt the trembling of his lung muscle, trying to expand―

It surprised him. He stared at the knife for a moment longer than he ought to have, completely taken aback by the attack and the physical effects. His hand jerked upward to grab at his own knife, much too slow. It was a fatal wound, he was going to bleed out―

Jericho reacted quicker. His foot came out and kicked Charon's legs out from under him, followed up with a solid kick to the ass, knocking him down the hill. Charon grunted, tucked his left arm under him, and let gravity carry him all the way to the bottom. Started to feel lightheaded, needed―

The bomb. The water was irradiated there. Charon glanced up at it, his vision wavering, remembering Emily had complained about the batty redhead's experiments and how she had asked her to get radiation sickness once. He turned his head back to see where Jericho was and received a hard kick to the side of the head.

"That's for my fuckin' ear!" Jericho yelled, and drew his foot back for another kick. "And this one's for―"

Charon pushed himself into a roll and moved closer to the irradiated pool. The blood was everywhere, now, making his hands slippery as he weakly lifted an arm to fend off the ex-raider. He felt dizzy, spinning like that―because of the blood he was losing, which covered the ground like only a fatal wound did. He had to get to the water, fast.

Jericho moved closer and Charon pressed his mouth together. Well, there was more than one way to end this―he reached up, whipped the knife out, and threw it from the ground at Jericho. The ex-raider jerked to the side to avoid it, and Charon pushed himself into the water with one powerful motion.

Radiation healing felt like the worst fucking pain in the world―Charon ducked his shoulder into the water, holding his neck closed with one hand, and let the blood get washed away, felt the burning, gritted his teeth in pain. Had been a long time since he had an injury that severe.

"No, you fuckin' don't!" Jericho growled, stomping into the water and pushing Charon under the surface, The man bent over the ghoul, holding him down with both hands, his thumb pressing into the wound on his shoulder. Charon fought the urge to groan in pain; he needed the air in his lungs.

Jericho didn't realize the radiation in the water would heal him, if he was trying to drown him. It was not a smart move.

Charon was patient. He could hold his breath for a lot longer than it would take for the wound to heal―and if Jericho didn't remove his thumb from his shoulder, the flesh would probably heal around it. That was going to hurt when it came out―because Charon was going to rip that hand right off his arm once he was at full strength, once the shock wore off.

He was patient. Went still under the water. Jericho laughed, his voice and face distorted by the motion of the ripples. Charon's eyes never blinked, staring up at him.

Suddenly his knees shot up out of the water and kicked the ex-raider in the side, causing him to release the ghoul in surprise. Jericho fell forward into the water, thrashing, and Charon simply shoved him to the side and stood up.

He put one boot on the ex-raider's chest, holding him under the water. He stared into the murky liquid as Jericho's arms and legs struck out at him, then grabbed out and pulled the man's arm up and away, dislocating it swiftly. Bubbles from the man's unheard cry rose in the water. Charon watched, impassively.

"What th―! Stop, Charon!" A shriek that spiked into his brain, a voice he knew. A pain to remind him he must obey. Emily.

His foot lifted from the man's chest, dropped the arm. Charon turned his head in a swift motion, shaking off water, to stare at her.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" she asked, in a disbelieving tone. The sheriff was standing behind her, moved forward to help the man out of the water. Jericho kicked out and thrashed, splashing water everywhere, cursing and spitting and hacking. Charon's eyes never left Emily as he moved out of the water to face her.

"Answer me," she said, angrily. "What the hell is going on?!" Her hands went to her hips, her eyes hard on his.

"I was attacked. I defended myself." Charon's hand went to his neck and felt the wound. It was hard to tell what the injury had been, once the radiation kicked in, but there was a visible scar line.

"Bu―" Jericho coughed and spat up a wad of watery snot, jerking his good arm out of the sheriff's grasp. "Bullshit!" He turned to the sheriff. "I say one fuckin' bad word and he tried to rip my goddamn arm off!" He motioned at his arm, limp and loose.

Emily was staring at Charon, now, and he met her gaze without expression. She looked very sad, at first, wiped her eyes of tears. Her face swept back toward anger, soon enough. She set her mouth and narrowed her eyes, glancing over at Jericho and back to him.

"He threw a fuckin' knife at me, Simms!" Jericho was yelling, wiping his hands off on his jacket. "Fuckin' tryin' to drown me―"

Charon stared at Emily. She opened and closed her mouth, then looked down at Charon's armor, the condition that it was in. He was aware it was in poor condition; his exploits in the wastes while he was without the contract had nearly destroyed it. He waited for her to speak, so that he could tell her he needed it replaced.

She did not speak, not to him. She looked over at the sheriff and Jericho, and frowned. "Sheriff Simms," she said, gesturing to him. "Come here for a moment."

Simms moved over to them, shooting a look at Jericho. "What is it, Emily," he said. Charon's mouth twitched. Had never heard the black man call her with such familiarity, before. It meant something, and he was not sure what.

"I'm almost certain that Jericho attacked first," she said, glancing up at Charon.

"I know he did," Simms said, in a low voice. "The way your ghoul acted toward him in the past, I'm not surprised."

"He's not my ghoul," Emily said, looking back to Simms. "I don't have anything to do with―"

"You are my employer," Charon said, forcing himself to speak. "I will do as you wish."

She flinched and backed away, staring up at him. "Wh―" Charon kept his eyes on her. "Oh, fuck me!" she whined, and turned away. Walked a few steps, then covered her face. Simms looked up at the ghoul, raised an eyebrow, and moved to Emily's side.

She was crying, now. Charon put his hands behind his back and watched her, feeling annoyed. Despite what had gone on between them, in the past, he could not feel the emotional link they had shared, once. This left his memory with swathes of perplexing conversations, times spent with Emily that he did not comprehend, and his own actions toward her. It all made him very confused, and so he had ignored it.

This state she was in, he did not comprehend; after his return to her as his rightful employer, he should be met with a more grateful expression. She had been without his guardianship for almost half a year. It was a wonder she was alive, given her level of combat readiness.

Simms turned his gaze back onto the ghoul and patted Emily on the shoulder, then moved away to talk with Jericho in low tones. Charon's eardrum caught part of the conversation, and he gathered it was not good news for Jericho.

Charon stared at Emily, again. At the back of her neck, where her hair tumbled over the side, like she had worn it since he knew her. It didn't make much sense to him, though he understood it made her attractive to others. For some reason that annoyed him further, though he could not tell himself exactly why.

"Goddammit," Emily said, wiping her face repeatedly, sniffling and making a mess of her sleeves. "Goddammit!"

Charon moved up behind her, standing and waiting. She blew out a long breath, then turned around and flinched at his closeness. Her hand went to her neck, twitching slightly. She still felt the ill effects of his strangling her, in accordance with the conditioning. He must apologize.

"I regret that my actions caused you harm," he said, evenly. It was all he could say.

She looked down and flushed, rubbing her collarbone. "How did you get back under the contract, Charon?" she asked, cautiously.

"Unsure," he replied. "There was a mirror involved. I am confused by the thought process relating to it." That was true; he did not understand why he would put himself back under contract, if he was free. It did not make much sense.

"Y―" Emily sniffled, looked up at him, and made a confused face. "You hate mirrors, though."

"It interferes with the conditioning," he said, tilting his head at her.

"Wait," she mumbled, and wiped her face again. "Wait, did you put yourself under contract?"

"That seems to be the case." Again, he could not say for sure; he was confused about how to interpret the memory immediately prior to the activation.

"Shit," Emily whispered, and looked over at Simms and Jericho, arguing. "I never figured out the code," she added, sticking her thumbnail in her mouth and biting on it. "This isn't fair," she whined, closing her eyes and crying silently. "It's just―not fair."

Charon stared at Emily. He could only watch her. He did not have the power to inform her of his own discovery, the knowledge of which words would unlock him from the contract and allow him to interact with her more freely.

The contract forbade him.

And, somewhere inside of him, he did not desire for her to know.