A/N: Song lyrics are from Skeeter Davis' "The End of the World"
The two of them had finally made it to a decent town to blow some caps he had stashed away (not much reason to spend them for these past few years). The ghoul had picked this particular out-of-the-way settlement due to the fact he had only been through a handful of times…it was hard to remember a face that had last passed by nearly fifteen years ago.
A whiff of Jet was sucked into her lungs, making the merc turn at the sound of the plunger depressing. "Fuck you doin'?" He snatched the empty canister from her. "Fuck you get this?!"
A wave of her hand, and she produced a variant one from her bag- Ultra Jet. "Don't worry, I share with my friends." She placed it almost gingerly in his open hand, and curled his fingers around it.
He blinked at it when she pulled away; he couldn't remember the last time he'd done drugs. A bad binge in New Vegas was a blur; he only remembered finishing a long and shitty fucking job from the NCR about some Great Khan prick he trekked through miles of hot sand for. The pay was worth it…but he had been voracious at the time, and drowned himself at Gomorrah to blow every single cap on every possible sin they had to offer a ghoul. The stories that circulated about him were enough to make a man ashamed… He had been a real fucking animal, back then.
He looked back up at his woman sitting on the edge of the bed, completely naked and staring at him with wide eyes full of mischievous intent. "Come on, let's have some fun, Cowboy."
What the hell. He took the hit, and the light-headed rush that coursed through every single fiber of his body electrified a warm flush to his brain. Holy fuck- this shit was really strong.
Evelyn gasped, handing him the bottle of tequila she took a shot from, and he didn't think twice before setting it to his lips and taking a longer drink than was necessary. When he finished, he set the now half-empty bottle to the side, and rolled his shoulders as he started towards her. The synth fucked her till she had blacked out, leaving her in their bed with her thighs twitching on soaked sheets.
A few hours passed, and when she awoke to the empty space beside her, she rubbed her eyes and glanced at a clock.
3 am.
She got dressed and stepped out into the cold night to the sound of drunken cheering coming from the saloon. The double doors swung shut behind her, and she blinked at the crowd gathered around a pool table. The merc was there, taking aim with a pool stick at the eight ball.
Evelyn bypassed the wavering patrons, tugging at his sleeve with a weary yawn. "Are you not coming to bed?"
Cross stared at her stupidly for a moment, completely belligerent and unseeing. "Can I…" He swerved backward a step. "-whoanow-get ya a drink?"
He then widely blinked at her as she simply stared.
Oh my God…does he not know who I am?!
"Uh." She stroked her fingers through her hair with a shy shrug of her shoulders. "Sure."
It wasn't like she was returning to bed now…she couldn't leave him alone like this.
The ghoul wolfishly grinned before turning around to flag down the bartender with two fingers. Evelyn helped him to take a seat before his ass ended up on the floor as he garbled in her hair, "Ya know somethin', I could ask you to be my wife."
Her cheeks grew hot, and she suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. The shots were poured, and she held his out of reach, stating, "I would say one of these is yours, but I think you've hit your limit." She then tilted one after the other back, gasping loudly and scrunching her nose.
The merc shrugged, his hand now traveling between the valley of her thighs while his eyes were glued to her chest.
He leaned into her again, his mouth nearly grazing the lobe of her ear as he murmured huskily to her, "I want to bury my cock in that ass." An extremely tender kiss was planted in the dip of her neck. "God I want to fuck you.".
His mouth nipped at her throat, and she shivered. He brushed the fabric of her suit over her shoulder.
"Cross-"
The ghoul paused, his hot breath enveloping in deep contractions across her naked skin. "Do ya, not want it, anymore?"
He sounded so genuinely unsure of himself she turned her head to blink at him. "You big idiot- do you even know who I am?"
A blink. "A beautiful woman." It was said so matter-of-factly her heart fluttered.
Ugh. His stare was so earnest it simply melted her into his hands. A glance around the room. "Well you're not going to strip me here." She grabbed at his hand still working its way between her thighs. "Let's go back to the room and-"
She didn't have to tell him twice. The merc staggered from his seat, ushering her forward out the door while his fingers explored nearly every crevice of her ass from behind. They only managed to greet the cold night air before his hands were ripping at her suit as though he couldn't tear it away fast enough. A protest from her lips was met with a tilt of her head back and a deep, consuming kiss.
"God I fuckin' want you," he growled so passionately her previous indignities were silenced. Two hands cupped her ass, and he hoisted her to grind against her groin with his belt as he lumbered down a dark alley. "I want you to cum all over this fuckin' cock."
One boot was left beside the dumpster; the other, lying askew on a doorstep. A single hand flung her blue and gold suit to dangle from a windowsill a story above. When she was left with absolutely nothing, her back pressed firmly into the brick wall with her moist thighs straddling his hips, he momentarily paused. He was so dumbstruck with her under the haze of a red neon glow from the bar sign that she licked her lips to focus his attention.
"…you okay, Cowboy?"
Those glowing orbs hanging in the shadows of his face blinked down at her. "What's your name? I want to remember you."
A shy smile was half hidden behind the back of her hand. "Evelyn." She curled a finger, beckoning him closer with a breath of a whisper. "Ruin me."
The rough texture of his mouth nipped at her pulse, his broad tongue slathering across her skin. "…God, I think I'm in love with you."
He then began to fuck her roughly against the side of the building. The brickwork dug into her back as he thrust into her with spear-like jabs. She curled her toes and came onto his dick, and he fucked her harder, watching her face balance precariously between complete ecstasy and borderline agony as he refused to quit pumping away at that sweet spot that melted her into a single-minded animal.
"Say my name as you come on my cock," he growled, and she whimpered helplessly.
"Ah- Cross-!" Her voice went high-pitched, and she bit his hand that came up to cradle her jaw, drawing blood.
It snaked down his arm and he grunted, not registering the pain as she had another orgasm, and it was so strong her body quivered as her cunt began to contract on him in waves. He shuddered, drawing down to the tip and then slowly pushing himself as far as he could inside of her. They finally pulled away from each other, and she wiped at her mouth while he pulled up his pants, looking down at his other hand with stupidity.
"You fuckin' bit me!"
"I'm sorry," she began, wavering to the side, lightheaded and weary. He caught her by the arm before she could fall over while his other hand was still holding up his decency.
"Hey." He gave her a light shake, and her knees buckled as she dropped. "Shit," he cursed under his breath, giving a quick look around.
It would look very bad for someone to catch a ghoul holding an unconscious, naked woman with his pants still undone. He slowly lowered her to the ground, quickly zipped himself, and scooped her to his chest, burying her under his duster to hide away from prying eyes.
Shit, shit! What the fuck was he going to do with her?! He had no choice; this smoothskin woman- Evelyn- would just have to crash in his room for the night. He did get a room, right...? He didn't think she would mind, come morning, and if she did, well…then he would just have to make it up to her. The ghoul had to sneak around in the shadows with his swaddled burden held close to his chest, continuously darting his head back and forth to ensure the coast was clear. When it was crystal, he made the dash to the only motel this joint had to offer.
Please, fuckin'- (there was a jingle of a key in his pocket, phew!) -but now which door?
After the third lock was wiggled, it made a click!
Safe!
Cross let out a garbled sigh, leaning against the doorframe in the complete darkness as he momentarily closed his eyes... Why did it smell so fucking musky in here?
Oh no…
He didn't have another woman already, did he?!
The light was flicked on, revealing only themselves…and someone else's shit beside his own. Cross clutched at his head and groaned. He was never doing drugs ever fucking again! A blanket was drawn up to her chin, and he left her a cup of water on the stand before taking a seat in a chair as he simply watched her with his private thoughts. What a lucky fuck he was to have a night with a woman like this. His eyes soon grew heavy...his arms became lax and crossed before his chest...his chin slumped down...his breathing slowed...
Evelyn awoke much sooner than he did and crawled over to her big, idiot ghoul to sneak under his arms with a peck on his cheek, saying softly, "I would love to be your wife."
Cross cracked an eye open after she had settled in the chair with him, and as he readjusted himself and held her tight, his more sober mind thought, Yeah...I'd love that, too.
The smell of the salty spray was refreshing. A dark blue hand, nailless and scarred, brushed against the burlap hood obscuring his face. Eyes blacker than the night sky drank in the pounding waves that curled and cascaded upon the shore. The sky was crystal blue, the deafening crash from the surf the only sound for miles around. Roman did not know what to think when he first came to Boston: the aging buildings of another time, the distinct charisma it painted over itself. It had been so long since he had seen water that extended beyond his line of sight when overlooking the bay; the vastness of the ocean was terrifying, at first.
Now, he decided he rather enjoyed it. It was...freeing.
His worn boots began their trudge along the bankside. There was soft music drifting from an open window, somewhere he could not pinpoint.
"Don't they know, it's the end of the world?"
The ghoul always took his time when sent out on errands such as these. It did not matter if the sun was high in the sky, no clouds to be seen, or if a radiation storm was blowing woefully through the streets. This was one of the rare occasions he had solely to himself. Carol did not stop to marvel at the crumbling brickwork of old-world architecture, she did not pause to listen to a heartfelt tune playing like a sad reminisce for another.
"It ended when I lost, your love."
There was no pleasing that woman that had an endless need for something. Even when they made loveless sex, and he followed her instructions without a single fault, she would sit upright in bed afterward and smoke a cigarette, the glow from the burning tip illuminating the ever-present questions shadowing in her eyes.
Did you enjoy it?
He was under orders to answer honestly.
No.
She would take a drag, watching him almost as intently as he did her.
Why?
He never had an answer. She would force him to stay, regardless of the fact she merely rolled her back to him and wouldn't say another word. The blue ghoul would stay up for hours on end, an arm tucked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling with the privacy of his thoughts.
"I wake up in the morning, and I wonder,"
Last night was...different. They had returned to their secluded quarters in that old-style hotel of what was presumably one of Boston's finest at another time, and she had snapped. Things were thrown, curses were shrieked, but she was ever so mindful not to lash out at him. He simply watched, hands in pockets, waiting for her tantrum over Liam's decision to come to a crashing halt. She had then advanced upon him, taking his huge palms and placing them like a propped mannequin over her flat chest.
Fuck me like you would with a woman you want.
He complied, and after they finished, both heavily breathing in the musk of their bodies in that tornado-strewn room, was the first time she had ordered him to leave and not stay the night.
Get the fuck out. Go see what the rumor is in Goodneighbor. I want to know what's going on around town.
That wasn't new. Always in control, even if it wasn't directly. Always in the know...always.
"Why everything's the same as it was?"
Roman settled himself in that dreary underground station they hailed as a bar, The Third Rail. Like most of the other lone wolves seated around with their half-filled tumblers, they were kept to themselves. It was the only reason he liked this town...everyone minded their own fucking business. Well, ironically, and not without personal disdain, everyone except him. The joint was quiet as there was no rolling from the jukebox, and it was still much too early in the day for Magnolia to take to the stage. A few gunners were seated at the bar; a couple of ghouls were busy getting high off brahmin fumes in another corner, raspingly giggling utter nonsense.
A few hours passed, his only beer having been long since emptied, and a couple of gang bangers came to join the drowsy lull. They whispered, almost conspiratorially amongst themselves, but Roman had excellent hearing, and they were none the wiser to this ghoul bowing his head in the corner.
"I mean, if this fucking lady doesn't know, where else are we supposed to take this thing? No one does business in fucking Vaults anymore- who the fuck cares? Don't see why Morello gives a fucking shit."
"Hey man. What gets us paid gets us paid. I don't fucking care if we get intel on it or not; I say we just ask the fucking good doctor next door, and call it a day. If that fatass thinks there's value in this shit, he's a fucking joke. I'm telling ya, we should tell the boys-"
Roman lifted his gaze as the one seated closest to himself pulled a Pip-Boy from his pocket, setting it gingerly on the table as they discussed their options. It was dinged, scuffed with some scratches, and an entire knob was missing. Whoever was the previous owner, did not see in taking immaculate care of it.
"Where did he get this? Russ?"
"Yeah, didn't you hear? She's been working for the Black Caz's now...heard she's been fucking that ghoul."
"Bullshit. She ain't no zombie fucker-"
"Keep your fucking voice down, moron! Remember where the fuck we are?!"
Now the ghoul's interest was standing at attention. Everyone on this side of the Upper East Coast knew about the Black Cazadors- an expensive, but highly sought-out mercenary group known for their reliability. Roman had caught sight of the two ghouls from time to time when they made their way into Boston...he was very careful not to be noticed; he doubted they had forgotten about him.
The Pip-Boy was eyed a little more attentively. It was sure to be more than enough to sate Carol's famished appetite.
"Ya got that face like it's..." Cross peered suspiciously inside his own mug of what was claimed to be the closest thing to coffee. "Hydraulic fluid."
"Bleh." Evelyn set hers down. "No...just icky."
A tilt of his head to the side. "Like, gross!"
She burst into laughter, and as he took a drink, he glanced around the room and snuck a hand between her legs. A swift kick was delivered to his ankle, and he nearly dropped his mug.
"Ow."
"Keep your hands to yourself," she said haughtily. After some consideration, she unzipped her suit just enough for a wonderful view of her cleavage. "Mind your manners."
The two caravan traders settled in the booth over paid no mind to their own as they openly stared. Evelyn propped her elbows on either side of her chest as she leaned forward, giving the ghoul a coquettish expression as she planted her chin in her hands.
"Swear to God," Cross muttered gruffly under his breath, draping an arm over his seat as he turned. The two men were seemingly blind to his glare as they continued to stare, and the bounty hunter delivered a kick of his own at her underneath the table. A mouthing of 'ow' signed on her lips as the ghoul turned back around. "I will fuckin' shoot them."
A dramatic gasp. "No you won't-" He was going for his holster, and she reached across the table to stop him. "-oh my God, okay!" The zipper was pulled back up to her neck. "So jealous."
A low growl rumbled in his chest, and he looked out the diner window as he drank from his cup with a sulk. It was already irritating enough that he couldn't handle her in public (soberly) like he wanted... People already stared plenty with just the two of them being together. They had to keep a low profile, low enough to make it to Boston. Before, who gave a fuck? He didn't care what people thought; their bigotry was their own, and all he cared for were her thoughts. But this wasn't a death march to Braxton, it was a covert smuggle to some underground lab.
It didn't help that she tried to hold his hand or ask for a kiss- he would've fucked her in the streets (soberly) for the world to see if it didn't risk getting shot over. The obvious hurt from his reluctance to show her public affection (soberly) was relayed through the little games she played. She was pushing him just enough to see when he'd crack and say fuck it. She wanted him to show the world (soberly!) that she was his. He was trying to make it up to her in the privacy of their room at night.
"Were you always so insatiable, before?" she randomly asked, picking her cup back up.
He took a sip of his beverage. She was right, it was icky. "'Fore what? I became a ghoul?" A nod, and he seriously considered her question. "Ya know...now that I think about it, guess not."
"Why didn't you ever...settle?"
He half-turned his head to blink at her. "Why didn't you?"
A shy look, and now the view beyond their window was of the utmost intrigue. "...I almost did."
"What?! Who?"
A tap of her fingers against the cracked ceramic of her mug. "Remember the story of that NCR ranger I told you about?"
He furrowed his brows and flitted his eyes to the side. "Yeah?"
"After the third time, we, uh, got together, he asked me to stay with him...be his wife, have kids."
The merc barely processed the remainder of that sentence- he couldn't get past the third time.
"It was years ago," she began as he visibly became more slumped in his seat. "He may not even be alive anymore!"
"Peh, third time," he grumbled sourly to himself. She had a far-off look on her face and a hint of a smirk, making him grumble, "What?"
She wistfully sighed, "Nothing."
He slammed his cup down. "You ain't thinkin' 'bout him, are ya?"
"You didn't answer my other question." She folded her hands into her lap.
"Takes two."
"You first." She smiled toothily, and he growled.
"No. I wasn't lookin' for it, so I never considered it."
"Really? After all that time?" Her nose crinkled as she considered her following words. "After all of...them? Hmm. Guess I feel pretty special."
"Don't get a big head over it," he muttered, still chewing over previous thoughts. Third time?!
The two caravanners took their leave. One tipped his hat to her as they passed. The merc watched her give a polite smile in humble exchange, and he seriously considered the notion that she deserved something he couldn't give her. An actual life. She never brought up the notion of having a family...raising kids, settling down somewhere, and having some normalcy. As a ghoul, or synth, neither was an option for himself.
Cross looked down at the table like her very image burned him.
"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked. The concern in her tone nearly made him cry.
He didn't want her to see him like this...everything he wanted to be for her, but he never would. How selfish of him, to love something so possessively that he wanted her for himself and no one else. She didn't deserve that...he didn't deserve her.
"Ya ever thought 'bout havin' kids?" he asked quietly. His eyes were swimming with regret when he looked up at her, his pregnant wife ghosting his memory.
Hey there hon, are you done with the baby's room yet? Oh wow! I knew that bassinet would be perfect with those drapes! I can't believe this is actually happening, after everything we gave for it...
Evelyn had a strange look on her face, and he couldn't place it.
"...I did...at one point. I thought it would eventually happen, as it does for most people, but..." Here she paused, and bit her bottom lip as though she was carefully contemplating over something no one had the right to hear. Her eyes closed as she smiled at him, and there was nothing but genuine happiness across her face. "But I have you, and I already told you, you're more than enough."
A few heads were drawn around at the sound of cups clattering to the floor. The merc had reached over the table and grabbed at her face, and she passionately reciprocated the fierce kiss he planted on her lips.
If the merc wasn't getting enough sleep before, he seemed to be making up for it now. Cross' bunk was constantly under stress being subjected to his massive size. He always had an arm laid out over his eyes, snoring loudly enough to rival the overworked motor of the boat. When he wasn't sleeping, he was writing, but it wasn't in his ledger; it was in her journal.
"What are you doing?" Charon asked one evening, pointing to his scribblings as he took the seat on his own unused cot across from him.
Cross sheepishly shrugged. "...figure I'd write her a few, give her somethin' to read."
A snort. It was the closest attempt at a joke over her death the ferryman had ever gotten. "I believe the phrase is to rest in peace."
Cross softly chuckled, propping an arm behind his head to lean against. "They are pretty bad." He brought the tip of his pen up to scratch at his brow. "What's another word for ass?"
Charon rolled his eyes, reclining back to stare up into the wooden ceiling of the floor planks. "I advise you to stick to mercenary work and not harass her in the next life."
Charon crossed his arms, closing his eyes to listen to the creak of the ship, tasting the aroma of salt and gas on his tongue. Somewhere out in the distance, a foghorn blew. The oil lamp illuminating their small cabin flickered as a drop of condensation dripped onto its wick.
"Heh." An invisible lightbulb illuminated the merc's face, and he hastily wrote down his poetic genius. "...yeah...that'll work."
Cross rubbed at his face, settled himself, and was fast asleep. He dreamed he found Evelyn seated in his big chair in his office and writing on a piece of paper. When he looked over her shoulder, the page was blank, but she scribbled furiously away.
"What are you writing?" he asked her.
She turned to stare at him. It was no longer Evelyn, but a face bobbed with russet hair and chocolate eyes. Those thin lips curled into a smile.
"How it ends," Russel simply replied.
The merc stepped back. The recruit's eyes followed his journey until he turned around to the scene of Braxton. The blackened buildings he had spent another ten years running from were just waiting for his inevitable return. He deserved to have died there, not her. It should have been him under that ash and sand, not the eternally sleeping face of the woman he couldn't even say goodbye to that night. He should have fought harder, should have died beside her, shouldn't have left her alone.
"I can't do this, I can't do this-!" The merc was caught at the bicep before he could jump. "-no, fuck, I can't- she's not gone, she ain't, she's just-!"
A slap!
The ghoul gasped awake. He was now on the lower deck, the churning black waters roiling angrily beneath the groan of the ship. Charon had stopped him before his body could commit itself to the cold lockers down below.
Charon pelted the ghoul with another hit, throttling his shoulders. "Evelyn is dead! She has been gone for ten years- I promise you she is not coming back. You have to do this. You owe that much to her...she would want you to." He groped his hand through Cross' jacket, gently holding up Evelyn's journal like another smack to the face. "You said you would return this to her. You have made her wait long enough."
Cross dumbly stared at the bound leather journal and sobbed, holding on to his companion with weighted hands and a heavy heart. "I don't want to. I love her so much."
"And she loved you, with everything," Charon choked up; he couldn't help feeling emotional over his employer's breakdown. He had not seen the ghoul this upset since the night she died. He brusquely rubbed a forearm at his eyes. "It is almost done. You are almost there."
Charon then waited patiently as his employer cried out into the abyss with howling sobs. This was going to prove to be the hardest part, but once it was finished, it would all be over. You can finally tell her goodbye...you can live again.
Cross wept until his knees trembled and his chest ached; the very air hurt to breathe; the very world was so devoid of color.
I just want my baby back.