Note: Sorry this took so long. I got stumped on whose viewpoint and after that it was trying to write Gallows that unnerved me.

It was a damn shame. Irving stared out at the town, specifically watching Emily and the sheriff dealing with Jericho and the ghoul, thinking. It was a damn shame the old bastard wasn't smarter, because if he had known about the radiation and how it healed ghouls he wouldn't have thrown the rotting hulk down the hill. The ghoul had been mortally wounded, but now appeared right as rain. Shame.

Should have just let him bleed to death on the path, and then Irving could have shot Jericho and claimed he was trying to protect the ghoul―

It was a lie, but Emily would have been too upset at the deaths to cause him trouble. He should have shot Jericho anyway. He cursed his own reluctance in action, when it came to Emily. Needed to do better than that.

Irving watched her. Crying again. She remembered that the rotting asshole had strangled her. He remembered too, when he'd pulled her helmet off―had to look her in the eyes when he told her that she was through causing trouble in Annapolis―and he saw that mess of purple and black spread across her neck. The clearly lined fingerprints across her skin, the redness of her eyes from the lack of oxygen. And the way she'd reacted―

He glared down into the center of town, at the ghoul and the old man. He was tired of it. Tired of waiting for her. Tired of being there for her and nothing coming of it. He didn't even know what he wanted from her, anymore. If he even wanted her, after all this shit. His heart hurt far too often, his chest still tightened when he saw her―

He could ignore the pain he felt; pain was something he knew how to manage.

But...he couldn't leave her, not again. He still felt for her. Leaving her in the hands of that ghoul who had practically destroyed her―

It didn't feel right, but―it was what she wanted. And Irving wanted her to have what she wanted. It was all he could do for her; couldn't protect her any longer, from everything she'd brought on herself.

Irving rubbed his eyes and breathed out. He didn't stand a chance, anymore. He would never win the girl, even if he killed the ghoul and the old man. He would never have Emily for himself, even if everyone else was gone.

He shouldn't have come looking for her.

Irving made his way down to the scene, slowly. He watched the sheriff as he was formally evicting the ex-raider asshole. He watched Emily crying for the ghoul―ice-colored eyes staring at her impassively―and heard her saying that she'd never figured out the words to relax him from the contract.

He knew those words. The zombie himself had told him. Emily had been too upset when the rotting shithead left her in Annapolis, to care. Irving stared at her, his face sad. Based on what she'd said... she still wanted the bastard freed of the contract. Even after he'd throttled her, and abandoned her.

He would never understand Emily.

This was an opportunity that Irving felt he should take advantage of, however. He could... tell her the words, if she was willing to even let him talk. If he had something that important to her, she might... He groaned to himself. It wouldn't do any good to him, thinking about his desire for her.

Irving moved out of the shadows and towards Emily, ignoring the others, keeping his eyes down.

"Emily," he said, catching her attention. The last good thing he would do for her, he promised himself.

"Oh, for the love of―I don't need your trouble on top of everything, Irving," she hissed, clenching her fists and glaring at him.

"I'm here to help, Emily." He stared her down. "I've always been there to help. I'm... sorry I walked away from you, before, but―"

"Yeah, you did, didn't you," she said, her face angry and stubborn.

"I'm here to help," he repeated. "I know how to relax the conditioning―" His words were stolen from him as the ghoul grabbed him around the throat by one hand and began to throttle him, staring down on him with those cold eyes.

Emily made a startled noise and moved forward, shouting, "Stop, Charon!" She slapped him, a hard hand right against his cheek.

The sound echoed in Irving's head as the grip was lessened. He coughed, reeling backward from the ghoul, and drew his rifle. He might be willing to give up the game to the bastard, but he wasn't about to let him attack him. Fucking zombie―

"That is it!" he said, when he recovered, aiming directly at the ghoul. The bastard began to pull his shotgun off his back. "I―I will kill you, this time―"

"Heh," Jericho said, and both Irving and Charon turned to aim their weapons at him.

Sheriff Simms took a large step to the right, away from Jericho, and looked at Emily. "Deputy, you wanna try maintaining order?" he asked, pointedly. "I don't rightly understand what's going on, here. Seems like it's all you, today."

"I'm so fucking sick of this," Emily said, angrily. She looked at Jericho, her face contorted in anger, pointing at him. "Why the hell are you laughing, you bastard?!"

Jericho held up his hands. "It's funny, is all. You and your stupid fuckin' slut attitude, draggin' half the goddamn wasteland out here to your doorstep―and shit's goin' down, and you can't handle it." He moved one hand to flip them all off, and then dropped his hands to his side. "Fuckin' told you―"

Emily's feet stomped heavily across the ground as she put herself into Jericho's face. "Stop calling me a goddamn slut!" she shrieked, shaking all over.

The old asshole was bringing up a hand, as if to strike her. Irving's eyes narrowed at him―the ghoul tensed up, stepping forward and pulling Emily away from Jericho with a rough jerk and moving her behind him.

No more indecisiveness. Irving's rifle was already trained on the man's face. The laser beam as it impacted with one eye was vibrantly red, but not as satisfying as the splatter of blood that followed it. Once the body crumpled to the ground, he lowered the rifle and aimed the barrel at the ground, looking at the sheriff. "I'm sorry, sir."

Simms squinted at the body, then sighed. "Well... one problem solved," he muttered. "Emily, what in the hell is going on?! Can't say as I'll miss the old ass, but why is your ghoul here, and who the hell is this?" He gestured at Irving, angrily.

Emily was standing stock still in the middle of the three of them, Charon's hand on her shoulder and her own inching up to her throat again. She blinked in surprise and turned to Simms, slowly, looking down. "Uhh," she said, still startled. "Uhh."

"I'll explain, if you let me," Irving said, shooting her a glance. Emily rubbed her collarbone, staring blankly at the ground. After a moment she nodded, and closed her eyes.

Simms was watching him now, and he squared his shoulders before he started speaking. "My name is Gallows," he told the sheriff. "Used to be in the Brotherhood of Steel."

The sheriff nodded. "Alright," he said. "Why are you here?"

"I followed Emily," he said, simply. "Some... trouble she caused is the reason I'm no longer with the Brotherhood. There was trouble out in Annapolis, don't know if she told you. Slavers, we took the whole operation down."

Simms glanced back at Emily and shook his head. "Girl, you stir up shit no matter where you go, don't you."

Emily kept rubbing her neck and opened her eyes, staring at Jericho's body. Irving sighed. "I only came to make sure she was alright," he said. "Heard she was in a bad way."

"And the ghoul?" Simms asked, looking up at the monster.

Irving kept his eyes on Emily. "Far as I can tell, he managed to reinstate his contract. Broke it in Annapolis, and took off. Emily―"

She looked up at him sharply, pushed the ghoul's hand off her shoulder, and faced him. "Everyone took off," she said, angrily. "I had nowhere to go but home, and you―you followed me like an idiot! You shouldn't be here, Irving!"

"You know I have nowhere to go," Irving told her. "I'm no longer a Knight Captain. I have nothing left, Emily. Nothing but you, and you―" He snorted. "You've been nothing but a bitch."

Emily's brow drew together. She looked wounded. "I don't like the new you," she said, frowning. "You're―you're being rude. Even if I did screw things up, you were the one who told me I should go to Annapolis―"

"I let you go because you were upset about your ghoul," he replied, testily. "To help you help him―I did not expect you to wholeheartedly murder an entire community of slavers!"

Simms chuckled wryly, and crossed his arms. "That's our Lone Wanderer for you," he muttered.

Irving ignored the man. Kept his attention on Emily and her shaking hands, saw how agitated she was. "You caused a lot of damage," he said, lowering his tone. "I chose to take the blame... for you. And you've done nothing but cause me problems, Emily."

"Problems you brought on yourself!" she said, scoffing. "I don't know why you're so obsessed with me. You need to let me go, Irving! I don't want―I never wanted you to get kicked out of the Brotherhood!" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, her hair bouncing on her shoulder. "And I certainly don't need you to save my ass from shitheels like Jericho―"

"What about your ghoul?" he interrupted, staring at her with hard eyes. "You act the same damn way with him as I have with you. Obsessing. You wouldn't let go―that's why he left you, Emily." He glanced to the side at the mountain of rotten flesh. "After you freed him, and he tried to strangle you to death!"

Simms made a thoughtful noise. Emily's eyes widened in anger. "He didn't have a choice!" she shrieked. "The conditioning―"

Irving cut her off, beginning the chorus of "This Land is Your Land". She stopped and stared at him in confusion, her face screwed up. The ghoul relaxed slightly, then strode over to Irving and grabbed him by the collar of his Brahmin-skin outfit and picked him up off the ground, growling in his face.

"You should not have done that," he rasped, breathing hotly onto Irving's face. "You do not realize the importance―"

Irving glared at the ghoul. "Take your damn prize," he snapped, grabbing the monster's wrists and holding him tightly. "Be glad you won the fucking contest, asshole."

"Charon?" Emily said, and the ghoul turned his head slightly to look at her through the corner of his eye. He turned back to Irving, growled in his face, and dropped him.

"Charon, what are you doing," Emily said. She moved forward, looking down at Irving for a moment.

The ghoul took a deep breath and let it out, then shouldered his shotgun and put his hands behind his back. "Emily..." he said, turning to face her. "You should fire me."

She looked baffled. Simms moved around behind Irving, to better keep an eye on them. Irving looked up at Emily from the ground, pushing himself up and brushing off the dust.

"...What?" she said. "What?!"

"You should fire me," the ghoul repeated. "Reinstate the contract and send me away."

Emily started crying, soundlessly. Fat tears rolling down her face, her hands covering her mouth. "I―I can't―" she mumbled, staring up at him.

"Shit," Irving said, looking away. He hadn't expected the rotten bastard to be so contrary. Whatever Emily would do about this, he didn't know or care. Didn't think the goddamn zombie would tell her to send him away if he'd come back looking for her, though.

"If you do not fire me, I will only cause you more pain," the ghoul rumbled. He stared at her. "You are not safe when I am around you."

Emily's mouth opened, then bobbed up and down. She covered her face, and sobbed for a minute or two, uncontrollably. Her hands lowered and she stared at the ghoul for a moment or two more, then wiped her face.

"Fine," she said, her voice strained. "If it makes everything better, then fine. You're fired, Charon."

The ghoul smiled in a grotesque way, and turned to face the men. "I will never win the contest," he said to Irving, in a low voice. "I'm not competing." He walked away, toward the gate.

Emily turned her head to watch him leave, her eyes filled with tears. Didn't say a word about anything.

Irving could only stare at her. What just happened?