Fuck.

The ghoul- synth- had only been momentarily gone for about two weeks. Years of waiting on a woman tended to make one go a little stir-crazy...especially one with his memories.

Cross flicked his lighter shut, blowing smoke across his face as it was picked up by the eastern winds. A gloved fingertip scratched at a brow. Never in all of his time staking out the city had he encountered nosy scavengers like this...it pulled at some uncomfortable strings in his chest.

It was finally time.

He trudged to their little campsite with his hands in his pockets. The woman gave him a raised eyebrow, but answered his questions regardless. Vivian received a smack on the lips as due thanks. Jay was too busy scrabbling below the surface and nearly shit himself when the ghoul was spotted by his flashlight. He, too, received a kiss of surprise; the synth left them in a complete stupor (as Jay hastily wiped his mouth while Vivian began to question her taste in men), and he came beside the empty pod.

There was a mold of Evelyn's handprint forever imprinted along the side; he ran a few fingertips along it, wondering what she must be thinking at this point. How many hours he had spent down here, in the very beginning, the electrical impulse in his brain preventing him from cracking the fucking thing open and whisking her someplace far away. How long he had pondered over her; it wasn't fair. And now she was wandering free.

Was she looking for him? Liam had assured him she most definitely would try.

Roman has told me she was most...infatuated, with you. She will not refuse you; love makes fools of us all, whether we want to or not. She will wake up with Braxton as her last memories...and memories, are powerful things.

Well, the old bastard wasn't wrong. Real, or copied, the synth couldn't differentiate his recollections. He just knew that it felt real. That he was Cross...even though he knew damn well he wasn't. Created for the sole purpose of her. He drew his hand back to his side. Five days. Five days ago, and she was waking up in this tomb, screaming like a wraith while he was out shooting up some raiders just for the hell of it. Now she was out there, somewhere...where would she go?

Told her to hit up this ghoul in the town over, name of Ol' Webbers...hell, maybe you guys are brothers, or something?

So he went. Being the best bounty hunter this side of the coast didn't come without the perks; the trip was made relatively quickly. The old(er) ghoul was suspicious of his questioning, and he was forced to quell his itchy trigger finger just to get a single lead on her.

"Don't see why it's any of your concern," Ol' Webbers informed him, somewhat mildly.

Cross sighed, taking off his cowboy hat to wipe the rain from his brim. "Look, how would some caps-"

"Keep your fucking caps," he growled, giving a curt nod to the door leading back out into the storm. "It wasn't any of my business, and I don't see it being yours."

Cross clenched his jaw, working it irately. He needed something. "...did she ask for me, by chance then? Cross?"

The old ghoul froze at that, and then eyed him with a wizened stare. He turned around, dipping a hand inside an old shoebox. It hesitated before fully drawing back out. He coughed something between the realm of phlegm and...something more stomach-curling.

Cross took the offered envelope into his palm, blinking down at the single word.

Goon.

"Are...are you fucking real?" Evelyn breathed, afraid to blink, to lose sight of him. This wasn't like before: a ghost, a spirit, a memory. This was- this was-

The merc rubbed at the back of his neck, squinting at her. He shoved one hand into a pocket of his fleeced jacket. "I think that's my fuckin' question." A crinkled envelope was waved. "Got your letter."

He stepped towards her, and she decked him in the face. He crumpled like a limp doll, dropping at her feet.

"You, you-!" she seethed over him as he rubbed at his jaw. "You're the world's biggest fucking ASSHOLE!"

Phew. At least she didn't crack his skull.

She began to cry, and he stumbled to his feet to pull her into his arms. The merc interrupted her wave of hiccups with a passionate kiss, hoisting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. Her mouth couldn't seem to find its way back for a chance to speak, as he would nab at her lower lip with his teeth and pull her forward, finally cupping a hand around the back of her head to secure her in place. He dropped them on the bed, the metal squeaking and sighing from their combined weight as he buried her beneath his bulk.

He began to remove her jacket, and the supple heat of her body was released into the chilly air as she was slowly being exposed. The tips of his gloved fingers were exploring along the vault suit as he refused to break away from her- his tongue was nearly intertwined with hers, tasting her breathy gasps. In annoyance of not blindly finding the hem to lift over, he finally parted from her with an audible smack, flicking the brim of his hat back as he blinked down at her.

A shuddering inhale escaped her chest; her tongue twitched, and her lips felt swollen and bruised from his rough desperation. She drew air in her lungs to speak as the zipper was grabbed and hastily pulled down. Not a single word had left her as he unshouldered her suit and ripped it straight down to her ankles. He then suddenly paused while his hands slowly roved across her skin, as though he was now actually seeing her for the first time- as though he was making sure she was just fucking real, and not some cruel mirage playing tricks on his mind. A halt at the bullet scar inside her left thigh. His palm took a handful of the soft flesh and squeezed before it continued along its journey. Those eyes hidden in that dark shadow journeyed up to her face in the form of a silent question, and she nodded.

"Kiss me."

The memory of a kiss so tender and so long drawn out was instantly recalled, and not so unironically being with the same woman he was now revisiting that moment with. Her soft lips and gentle caressing from her fingers tracing over a canvas she knew so well sent a chill down his spine; he had so often visited her in daydreams, but they all seemed so shallow, so fraudulent, compared to the sweet taste she left in his mouth.

"God, I love you," he breathed into her mouth, consuming her soul with his desperation grinding against her hips. "I fuckin' love you so much." He then gently flipped her over, spread her legs, and took her from behind in a rough fuck.

Her body soon began to fold in on itself; the mounting climax was beginning to become overwhelming, as her body began to fight itself between ecstasy and overstimulation. The earth-shattering inhale she breathed through her lips, followed by the scream of pure elation, was something his mind couldn't resist. All he craved at that moment was every piece of her: her whimpering, her breathless gasps, her quivering lips. It was all his eyes could see: the pale skin of her heart-shaped ass, the clench of her fingers on the mattress, the sway of her breasts with every pounding of his hips. She was just so fucking perfect at that moment; he felt his thoughts blur and his sole existence become irrelevant.

"Oh my God, Cross!" It was a cry for relief; a signal for the weightless cloud she was riding on to be pulled back down to earth. Her mind couldn't take it; she screwed her eyes shut as his fingers dipped inside her gaping mouth and across her hot tongue.

Not once, did she ever scream his name during sex. It flattened some sort of nail in his brain down to the head, and he railed against her with renewed fury. He was used to hearing his name, but from her mouth, was like a primal cry that reduced him from a man to a simple animal.

She continued to cry out. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

The ghoul grunted, deep and heavy. Holy fuck, did he fucking miss this. And then, a burst. Her hips were tilted forward as he pushed into her with all of his weight, clutching at her waist like she was an anchor for him to keep grounded to. A growl that sounded much too akin to a feral hissed from the back of his throat, and when he finally began to see the sky without the fading of black around its edges, did he pull away from her slowly, his dick lathered in a white froth.

"...damn, you good?"

She had slid off the bed and crumpled to her knees, hands flat to the ground and head bent as though in prayer. Her suit was still bundled around her ankles; she was quivering and seemed deaf to his question. A moment passed, and he could spy the trail of his ejaculation dribbling between her thighs.

"Ya want to clean up?" he tried again, already reaching for her bag. A scarf was pinched- he'd replace it. He wiped himself clean, shivering from the sensitivity. She appeared to ignore him as he zipped back up. "Jesus, c'mere."

He lifted her by an arm to stand and then swiped at her vaginal region. The act of him cleaning her seemed to snap her into focus and she growled, batting his arm to the side and nabbing at the sticky fabric.

"I can fucking clean myself!" she snapped, any hint of her previous submission vanished. "There's this thing called a shower, you know!"

He slicked their fluids from his hand with a single swipe through the air, quietly watching her go about her business.

She raised her head, perturbed at his staring. "Can I help you? Gross! Did you just fling that on my floor?!"

A shrug. "What?"

"Can I have some privacy?!" She uncapped a water and greedily drank.

"Why?" he groused. "Not like it's nothin' I ain't already seen...I probably know more about you down there than you do-"

"Stop it!" she snarled, turning to the side to block his view.

"...ya know ya got a mole on your ass right-"

The bottle was chucked at his face, smacking into it like a stone wall to then fall at his feet. "You're lucky I ain't got a damn nose anymore; would've inverted it."

"Then maybe it would teach you to get your nose out of other people's business!"

"Heh." His hands clasped over hers as she struggled to pull up the suit; it was a little too tight around the thighs. He shunted it upwards, delivering a squeak from her mouth. "Damn, you eat way too many fuckin' sweets."

The hinges of her jaw dropped. "Did you just call me fat?!"

His fingers pinched at a little belly roll; she was a teeny-tiny more filled out than he previously remembered. "I kind of like it."

She slapped his hand away as it was making its journey over her navel. "Get used to memorizing someone else's nether regions then!"

"Ya ain't fat, goddamn-"

"I know I'm not!" she scowled, promptly zipping up the suit.

"-maybe, puffy, is the word I'm lookin' for." A snarl erupted from her lips, and she proceeded to reprimand him with a few brunt smacks to his arm. It smarted, and he quickly sidestepped from her short reach. "Ow! Goddamn!"

She shouldered her pack and stomped out of the room. Cross watched her go down the hallway with a scratch at his jaw, cupping one hand around his mouth. "Hey! What'dya think of thick?"

Evelyn came to round the staircase for the lower floor when she met the ghoul prostitute at the top step.

"Oh, hello again," she rasped, and then her cataract eyes widened at the sudden shadow looming over them from behind. "Cross, you're...you're back-"

"You can have him," Evelyn snipped as she made her way past, nearly stomping through every floorboard as she descended.

Cross rolled his eyes and shoved his hands deep down in his duster pockets, just passing the ghoul on by to catch Evelyn at the bottom of the landing. He pulled her around by the elbow, his rasp hushed. "Heyheyhey, ya know I was only kiddin'. Where the hell you thinkin' of goin', anyways?" He indicated with his chin to the biblical flood pouring just beyond the shuttered windows. "Got a raft in that pack?"

Before her mouth could open with a snark apparently, I am the raft, her stomach growled loud enough to be mistaken for the rumbling thunder. She grew beet-red as he raised a brow and looked down.

"Hell have ya been eatin'?"

Another punch was sunk in his gut, and he doubled over and gasped as she spun around to leave. The merc eventually caught up and very carefully herded her to the grand dining room that still housed a few tables and chairs. A few of the other guests raised their heads as they went to take their seats, and Cross pulled out her chair and blew a whistle to the serving bot.

The most burning questions were whisked away with a fork down her throat and a mug to her lips.

How did you find me?

Where were you?

Is Charon okay?

There was a gasp, a satisfied sigh.

What happened in Braxton?

What have you been doing?

Why did you leave me down there?!

Cross quietly smoked his cigarette, just eyeing his woman inhaling food like she had been starved for over a millennia. Instamash, Pork n' Beans, Brahmin Steak, Fried Tatos...he puffed his habit while she washed it all down with a stale bottle of Nuka-Cola. The emptied bottle made a clink beside her cleared plates as she leaned back in her chair, completely sated and now exceptionally exhausted.

"That..." she breathed with a run of her tongue over her teeth. "Was amazing."

Cross scratched at his brow, squinting at the massacre before him. It had cost him a pretty cap, but she had clearly been struggling ever since she had left Braxton.

"Damn. How do you fit it all?" he muttered. He pulled out his packet of cigarettes, and she held her hand out for one. He raised a brow muscle at her, not complying with her demand. "You don't smoke."

"I don't," she agreed, waggling her fingers. "It's just...nice, sometimes."

He stowed it away despite her pout. "I'm runnin' low," he lied.

"You have a full pack!"

"Then get your own, miser." He blew a stream of smoke at her moping and hitched a thumb to the stairs leading up to the rooms. "Ya want to go again?"

A laugh blew from her lips, and he grinned. "Ugh, I'm way too full."

"Not yet, ya ain't."

"Ew."

"What?"

"I..." She suddenly grew quiet, glancing around and leaning forward a little to speak lowly. "I want to talk...about everything."

The ghoul scratched at his head and held the pack out for her to take one. "Guess we're goin' to be here awhile."

A flick, a flame, a click. Evelyn inhaled, a little too deeply, resulting in hacking a cough into her elbow.

"You sure ya want that?" Cross questioned.

She waved her hand, nodding, a billow of white tobacco smoke exhaling from the 'o' ring of her lips. He watched it, getting excited at the thought of what those lips looked like wrapped around his shaft, and he just stared at her mouth while dragging on his smoke.

"Hey!" she chastised him, and he snapped from his thoughts. "Talk first."

"Why, we ain't goin' nowhere soon."

"Why did you leave me there?"

A straight shot, right to the gut; all lead, no warning. He coughed loudly, turning to the side to stare out the few surviving grand windowpanes. He watched the rain fall, blurring the wasteland out beyond. "You honestly fuckin' think I would let you fuckin' stay down there?" He turned back, visibly angered as his posture stiffened and he narrowed his glowing eyes. "After that?"

"Then where have you been?! How did you find me?!" The cigarette wavered from her shaking hand; a float of hot ash drifted down to her thigh to burn a hole through her suit, and she winced, brushing it off. "Where's Charon?!"

"Christ." He spent it down to the filter, flicking the butt into a tray on their table. "Look, I heard a fuckin' woman was found in a Vault by two fuckin' scavs. I saw the pod, and took a fuckin' shot at hopin' that somehow it was you."

He dropped, nearly begging her as he came to kneel between her legs with his hands on her thighs. His eyes seemed...darker, than she remembered. Not as hazy. They muted the world around them, ignoring the curious looks from the others as this ghoul seemed to worship her at her feet.

"And I'm glad I fuckin' did. These past ten years have been fuckin' hell for me, okay? I- I had to let Charon go... I couldn't fuckin' look at him without thinkin' of you...I'm sorry, but-" His voice grew thick. "-but you were gone, baby, you were all I had, and you weren't there. You weren't there."

His words were genuine. There was no lie. The memories and feelings he felt held true, because he believed them to be. Those smaller hands came to his face, gently tracing down the line of his scar. He closed his eyes and pretended, for at least a moment, that this was real. That he was real. The way she looked at him made him whole; not a ghoul, or a synth...a fucking man.

"I'm right here," she whispered. "I love you."

There was an explosion in his chest, much like the day when she had first told him those words. The memory of her behind that impenetrable glass reeled before his eyes, and he gripped her sides so firmly they were sure to leave bruises.

Cross paid for an extra night, swinging her up in his arms like a freshly-minted bride before crossing the threshold, up the stairs, and to the upper-level 'suite'. He managed to weasel an entire bottle of wine from the tight-lipped bartender and stole a bouquet of carrot flowers from a vase at the receptionist's desk, presenting it to her with a stupid, go-lucky grin.

"Where did you get these?" Evelyn questioned as she took the flowers while he uncorked the alcohol. She buried her nose in their soft petals. "Wasn't there some at the front desk?"

"Ya want to take a bath now?" Cross handed her a full glass, chucking a smirk over to the oversized bed with not-as-ratty sheets. "Or later?"

She took a drink, set her gifts to the side, and started to kick off her shoes. "Think you can make me crack this tub, too?"

He chuckled, already unzipping his fat cock free. "Guaranteed."