Evelyn was nearly taking two steps at a time in keeping up with the larger ghoul. They ignored all of the wide-eyed, open stares they received from any ghoul resident who happened to catch a glimpse of her.

The city was depressing. The light pattering shower muffled their footsteps as they traversed through dark alleyways and under the soft, ambient lighting of corner streetlamps. A red neon sign reading Catwalk flickered through the sheets of rain. There was a side door that the ghoul opened, and she was motioned to step through. The smell of cigarette smoke and decay was strong, and she coughed into her elbow and blinked through the hazy darkness. A silhouette on the balcony above came to lean over the banister railing, and they were reduced to being a dark contrast against the pink floodlight that spilled from behind.

"Hello, my dear," a smooth, human male voice cooed from above. There was a faint prick in the side of her neck, and she lashed out as her escort lithely moved from reach. "Welcome home." A snap of fingers. "Roman, put her in cell C, and be careful; she can kill you very easily... Don't let her grab you."

Notgoodnotgoodnotgo- Evelyn was reduced to all fours, panting loudly as her mind turned numb and her body grew weak. She had to get to Charon, the hotel wasn't that far-

The ghoul crouched beside her, and one hand dove through her hair, twirling it around his fingers as he snapped her head back to look at him. The inertia made her eyes swim, and she knew she was going under. Nonononono-

She was so helpless- her muscles were uncooperative, her mouth refused to let loose a scream. Mute, disabled, afraid. A shuddered breath, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

The hours passed, and the city finally came into view on the horizon. The merc lit up a smoke, but ended up flicking it into the dirt, too spent for a single drag.

Braxton.

The rain beat down as he raised his hands to the sky before the armed sentries. "Go get Penny!" the merc shouted over the wailing of the storm. "I've got business in the city."

Word was ushered, and the rosy ghoul came forth.

"Cross..." Penny faltered, completely transported back in time a decade ago. She licked her nonexistent lips as their last night together replayed through her mind. "You-you-" It couldn't be a coincidence, not after so long. "-what are you doing here?"

"A smoothskin woman and a ghoul wanted inside the city- did you let them?" Small rivers of water streamed down the sides of his hat, his face shrouded in the shadows of his high collar. "I need to talk to the woman."

Penny blinked, her mouth gaping open and closed for a few moments before she coughed awkwardly, the sound of her ruined vocals nearly drowned by the rain. "She's...she's missing, since this morning. We don't kno-" The merc bypassed her. "-hey, wait! Cross!"

The air around him was so dangerously hostile that she was unsure if he wouldn't strike out at her if she attempted to stop him. The merc made a beeline for the police station. It was a crazed hive of activity. Cross said nothing but armed his magnum and let off a shot into the far wall.

BANG!

Everyone turned their heads and shut their mouths. Cross opened his duster, holstered his weapon, and shook his shoulders. "Where the fuck is Thomas?"

"So dramatic," the glowing ghoul said lowly, appearing from his office. His head made a swivel around the room. "Is there a reason everybody cannot get back to work?"

The deafening racket continued.

Thomas gave a nod of his head for the bounty hunter to follow, and the merc slammed the door behind him. Cross whirled angrily like a thunderstorm on the ghoul, his hands clenching into fists. "What the fuck happened? Where the fuck is Evelyn?!"

An irritated exhale. "I do not know your exact association with her, but it's an investigation under process-"

Cross belted out a hollow, raspy laugh from his chest. "Under process? You haven't a fuckin' clue, do you?"

"I do not see where it is your concern," Thomas said with a warning. "If you have no other business within the city, then I am going to ask for you to leave."

"Not without her."

Thomas regarded the seething ghoul with a calculative expression. "So, you really do care about someone other than yourself, after all."

Cross pounded a fist into the wall, nearly cracking his hand.

If...if something happened to her...what if-

Those kinds of thoughts were not helping in this situation. She was strong: she took out a whole handful of slavers while he sat on his ass and just watched; she blew up a single raider to kingdom come and just laughed about it; she survived a goddamn shot to the femoral artery... But...what if-

This was all his fault. He should have never said yes to her all those weeks ago. He should've never agreed to be her stupid fucking escort because of his own selfish desires to be around her, for just a little bit...just-

He should have told her the truth; he should have told her everything.

He should have simply said, I love you.

Do you think you could ever love me, for just me? His fist hit the wall repeatedly; blood splattered. Voices were raised; they were drowned out. I am not the one afraid of facing my past. His throbbing hand reached for the door handle, and he gave it a turn. The ferryman was suddenly on the other side, and the merc laid all his weight into his fist.

Charon took the hit. There was a crack of his ribs.

"You fuckin' bastard!" Another swing. "You said you'd keep her safe, you fuckin' cunt!"

Charon stumbled backward, crashing to the floor.

"Whoa man, take it easy!" Campbell had his hands in the air as the merc drew his weapon and clicked the safety back.

"Stop!" Lydia flung herself between them, her arms out to the sides and her chest heaving from deep breaths. "Don't!"

The merc snarled, "Move, kid."

A few more clicks drew his attention; Thomas and the others had their muzzles aimed at his head. The brigade was down his throat.

"You can either help us find Evelyn, or I can have you put down like the savage animal you are. It's your call," Thomas said coolly, and the bounty hunter merely shook his head and stowed his piece away.

"FUCK!" Cross stomped to the door.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Thomas asked condescendingly.

"Fuck it look like? Goin' to find her," Cross growled in return.

"Not by yourself in this city, you're not."

The bounty hunter gnashed his teeth together as he paused, a rosy ghoul blockading him from leaving the lobby. A threatening growl rose in his throat, and the knuckles on his battered hand cracked as he flexed it into a fist.

"You ain't got a single lead on her, otherwise you'd be out there." The merc gave a half-turn, giving his glowing counterpart the most ired expression he could muster. "I'm your best fuckin' shot. It's what I do- you fuckin' know that."

Thomas just shook his head, waving his team back to their stations. "You're right- we could use your help." A glance was given to Charon, who was back on his feet. "And as a matter of fact, we do have a lead."

Thud thud thud

Evelyn didn't- what- she was so tired, but she couldn't sleep...could she? Her head lolled against her chest, and she succumbed back to nothing.

The scientist ghoul let out an angry spat. "That was too much, you fucking moron!" She angrily crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her left foot with irritation. "They're already looking for her. I don't want to be down here all day."

Roman said nothing, as usual.

"Ugh!" The female ghoul went over and slapped Evelyn viciously across the face. "How much did you give her?!"

A large hand encircled her own, forcing her assault to stop.

"Roman, let me go."

The ghoul complied, and she continued her attacks. Evelyn gave a sputtered cough, and the blue ghoul grabbed at her wrist again.

"Why are you stopping me?" she seethed at him.

"She is dangerous. It would not be best to wake this one," his rumbling voice answered.

A harsh laugh. "Dangerous?! How?! Look at her!"

"David has informed me of so."

The woman squinted her eyes suspiciously at the ghoul, then back to Evelyn's groans. Roman never lied. He couldn't, as he had been ordered not to.

"Fine," she tiffed. "I'll just do what I can for now..."

There was a crackle from the intercom near the door. "Carol, you may see yourself out."

The ghoul woman spun around, striding to the silver box and pressing a button. "Who is she?"

A screech of static. "That is not-"

She jammed the button again. "Answer me, damn you! What the fuck is so special about this one?!"

There was a moment of silence, and she almost broke the damn box by smashing it so hard until the voice sought to return. "It's X-17. She's finally come back to us."

Penny poked her head inside the conference room, raising an eyebrow as the body count was reduced by two. "Where's-?"

Campbell shrugged. "Just left. Think he's giving her a verbal beating... I'm afraid I'm next."

Slam! Both ghoul and girl were isolated from the others in the janitor's closet.

Cross snarled, "You're supposed to be the smart one, goddamnit!"

"You're the one who left us!" Lydia sobbed.

"Fuckin' Christ." Cross boxed her ear, and she gasped from the pain. "Don't need this shit from you."

She rubbed her eyes with her fists. "You're so fucking stupid- if you had just come with us, she wouldn't be gone." Lydia did not need to raise her eyes to guess the merc's expression cast down at her; she could feel it.

A crash! The glass in the doorframe window shattered in its casing from the force of being slammed into the wall. The merc stormed down the hallway, and despite the multiple, rushed words thrown at him, he threw open the front double doors of Braxton's Police Department and disappeared into the endless sea of rain.

Thomas watched the theatrics through the blinds in his office, and he merely rubbed his forehead and sighed. The bounty hunter had always been a wild card, but he was genuinely surprised the merc apparently cared this much over the disappearance of one smoothskin. He took a trip down the hall and found the younger woman still frozen in her spot.

"Lydia, am I correct?" Thomas shrugged his hands deep inside his pockets. "What can you tell me about Cross' relationship with Evelyn?"

She sniffed, wiping at her runny nose. "They're together, I guess?"

"Together, as in...?"

"They fuck. A lot."

Thomas felt his heart cease its beating, and for a split second, he feared himself to be dead. The girl showed no shame at her naked honesty, but he felt his collar grow hot from both anger...and jealousy. He growled, unable to hide his displeasure.

"Then why was he not with her?" he questioned. None of this made any sense to him, was it perhaps all just one big coincidence? No... Fate tended to have a cruel sense of humor.

She threw her eyes away. "Ask him."

"Ghra!" The first ghoul sentry's collar was grabbed- he was incapable of resisting the powerful force driving him into the marble, and his skull was cracked against the floor. The second had his lights knocked out with a strong blow to the face.

"This- this is outrageous!" the Mayor of Braxton shouted, waving his arms around as the bounty hunter put his boot through the door. "You will be punished severely for this! Cross! Hey now, Cross, just what-" Rick was already backing up into a chair, haphazardly tripping as Cross swiped at him. The false wig was sent flying. "Put, put me down!"

The merc tossed him up and over his head, piledriving him into the desk with a snarled, "WHERE IS SHE?!"

Papers were suddenly strewn all over, a chair was left lying in pieces on the floor. A bookcase became toppled, its contents splashed across the carpet. The merc stomped through the mess with the bloodied mayor being dragged across the room.

Thomas was striding down the hallway with Charon beside him, giving a tsk at the incapacitated guards. He closed the doors, but they refused to lock; the deadbolt was broken. "Definitely dramatic."

Rick was barely cognizant (or recognizable) at this point, his head dead weight against his chest.

"Okay, Cross, don't kill him. If we want to find her, we're going to need him alive...and preferably conscious." Thomas stepped over the carcass of the chair to sit on the edge of the desk. "Although, I find it rather interesting you came to Rick first..."

Charon grabbed at the decanter of bourbon while Cross firmly held the mayor down on a table, his head limp over the edge. The ferryman tied his scarf around Rick's face, and then he proceeded to pour the alcohol over him.

"Blfgfghfg!" The mayor sputtered and choked, his hands weakly scrabbling at Cross' wrists.

The bounty hunter leaned down low, their faces nearly touching. "I'm only goin' to ask you this once. You know where she is, don't you dare fuckin' lie to me. WHERE?!'

The scarf was lifted just enough. "I...I don't-"

The rest of the words were smothered as the restraint was put back into place, and their improvised waterboarding continued.

Thomas was thoughtfully looking around the room. "Why did you ask to speak with her in private? What did you say to her?"

Some breathing room, and a single word. "R-Roman..." And his grip gave away.

Cross dropped the lifeless ghoul to hit the floor. "Does that mean somethin' to you?"

"Roman?" Thomas gave a sigh, beginning to open various desk drawers and carefully rummage through them. A glance was exchanged with Charon. "Perhaps... There may be some sort of clue here, if you have not already trampled over the evidence with your tantrum."

They scurried around. Thomas brushed a fingertip across the lock on the desk's bottom drawer. "May you pat down Rick for a key? There may be something-"

Charon was already at his side, his fingers curling into the handle. With an abrupt yank, the lock snapped, and the drawer was forced open.

"It appears you all proceed with business in the same manner," Thomas commented wryly. "Hmm."

The merc paused in his snooping, giving a turn to the sound. "Find somethin'?"

A Pip-Boy 3000 was carefully rotated for all to see. "Perhaps."

Eleven Months Ago

It had been some weeks since he had to face the dangers of the wasteland with a contract holder at his side. Moira had chosen to keep him secluded in Megaton after he made excursions for her in gathering odd requests for her deranged, experimental habits. Traveling solo was much more leisurely than with another thinking, decision-making, unpredictable person at his side. Each encounter was...hard work. Charon was quickly learning a lot about her in that first month.

She was reckless.

The first whizzing bullet barely missed her. The ghoul grabbed her jacket collar and threw her flat to the ground. She rolled on her back as he laid himself atop of her, slowly peering his head over their cover. She squirmed underneath and snarled remarks about his chosen defense tactic, but he simply ignored her as he spied their enemy ducking behind the open doorframe of a car.

"Where is your gun?" the ghoul implored, and she only gave him a blank stare.

"I don't have one."

There was a shower of dirt sprinkled over them from the nearby explosion of a grenade; Charon didn't so much as flinch. "You what?"

"I can't shoot for shit, okay?!" Evelyn bit out, suddenly flustered and extremely angry at her own lack of skill. "I don't need one."

He merely blinked at her; his brain could not comprehend her possibility of survival without a ranged weapon. Another downpour of silt, and yet they both had not moved from their positions.

"Here- just, watch-" she started.

Charon seized her jaw before she could scurry away. "Stay."

The ghoul then ducked out, sprinting for a better position to return fire. A flurry of movement in his peripherals. She had left her well-shielded post, parkouring around some debris and drifting around the side of a building. He lost sight of her and went to give chase, but a few gunshots forced him to stay put. He was now being forced to neutralize the threat quickly to confirm her safety. Lowering himself into a crouch, he began to shimmy behind a concrete guardrail until audible shouts drew his head over.

She had beaten him to it, sprinting full force at the car's door frame. She cried out as a bullet nailed her in the bicep, but she didn't falter as she body-slammed herself into the car door. It shut with incredible force, exploding the man into a gory spectacle of wet, chunky mist before the vehicle rolled over for a few meters. The ghoul didn't stop to appreciate the violent, incredible display. His employer was hurt, and she needed aid.

"Ow, fuck!" She bit down on her lower lip, returning to their previous position and going for her discarded pack.

Charon was already roughly grabbing at her wrist. She smacked him away.

"Ow, Jesus, that fucking hurt!" she growled. "I need my bag."

He blinked at her, emotionless. With a pivot on his heel, he retrieved her things as she sat down and removed her jacket. Blood pooled down the sleeve of her shirt, and she winced as she bundled the ends of it in her hands.

She let out a shuddering breath, clearly in pain. "Can...can you help me? My arm fucking hurts." She then held her arms gingerly before her, and he understood.

Without betraying a hint of anything, he pulled her shirt over her head to discard it at their feet. He did not bother turning around to grant her privacy as she rummaged her good hand through her medkit. It was not safe.

A pair of thin pliers were retrieved, and she bit back a cry as she wormed around inside the flesh and muscle. Her arm spasmed, and the ghoul forcibly overlaid his palm over hers, gripping her smaller hand tightly as he steadied their probing. She was going to exercise more damage, than good, if not assisted. His other hand supported her tricep, and he ignored her tears as he felt the clink of metal and carefully extracted the bullet. It gave a crystal tinkle as it bounced off the asphalt.

"Can-can you-?"

She did not need to finish her sentence. He already had a Stimpak and injected the site where he thought would be best. They both waited a few minutes while the medicine stitched up her flesh. The ghoul's faded eyes continuously scouted the area; they were the only souls around.

Her braid fell to the side as she leaned forward and cradled her head with her eyes closed. He immediately thought it was a rather poor decision. She should have stretched her chest open and sat up straight, allowing ample airflow through her lungs to alleviate the nausea she must have felt, but he did not voice his suggestions; it was not his job. There were a few scars embedded in her naked skin that he identified as either bullet marks or sharp edges of a blade.

Her small act of foolish abandon was not uncommon, then.