My ferryman waits for me upon the shore,

I call to him, 'A coin, I have', and nothing more,

His eyes glow like coals as he takes my hand,

He says, 'Come with me, to this strange new land'

It was wading in a river; death. There wasn't a single step to be taken, for the water rose ever so slightly higher, higher, it was at his knees, to his waist, and finally up to his chest. It was cold, and the blood on his skin was hot, almost scalding, and there's nothing else to feel. Nothing else to see. It is so very dark, this place, and then it isn't. He had come back, and she had been at his side, and he wasn't alone anymore.

That's how he knew he wasn't dying, for this time, he was still very much warm, and he felt her hand in his, and he heard her voice lightly murmur beside his ear, and yet he still couldn't help but think-

That's too bad.

He would have been okay with it, if it had been this way. It was the best he could have asked for, and nothing he could have ever deserved. His body began to tingle with the anchors weighed around his limbs slowly lifting, and the peculiar smell of her body odor wafting straight to his brain. Charon struggled to open his eyes, but then she stroked her fingers along his ruined scalp through his streaks of mangy hair, and he was soothed. It felt nice. He would allow it…just this once.

Whether it had been minutes, or maybe even hours, Charon did not count the seconds that passed by. There was a relaxed wave still ebbing through his rigid muscles as he lay there, focusing on her feather-light touches drifting across the lines of his forehead to the broken cliffside that was once his nose, her palm cupping his jaw and her thumb caressing the side of his face.

"So what was a nice girl like you having business with a ghoul like this Ahzrukhal?"

The smoothskin. He could be heard clear across the room.

Evelyn's breath was felt on the side of his cheek, blooming like a silken sheet across the leathered wrinkles and exposed muscle.

"It's a long story…but Charon saved my life, and I wanted to save his."

The minefield. He remembered. He had believed she was destined to die then; just another down-on-their-luck wastelander with half a brain and dogshit survival instincts. A sharpened spoon carved through the cavity of his chest as he imagined her still lurking in that room, decomposing and forgotten, her blue eyes gone and jaw removed, her body whittling away as the molerats nested inside her ribcage. He was now glad he had acted when he did.

"Don't hear of too many ghouls and gals like yourselves wandering the wastes…of course, I haven't left this place in who knows how long."

She laughed, as softly as the bloom of rose petals in the spring. "I like to think it adds to our charm."

"Charming definitely wasn't my first thought."

"We tend to grow on people."

"I'm sure, just like a radioactive tumor. You won't be sticking around much longer for any of that." Some banging on a piece of metal took place. "But while you're here, I might as well ask where it is the hell you came from."

He felt Evelyn curl a strand of hair on his scalp. It must look stupid.

"I'm actually from a Vault," she told him. "Vault 101. I've been out for months, though."

"A Vault, huh? Explains the foolhardy optimism. How was the food? Lab-grown bioengineered indulgences, or processed two-hundred-year-old crap delights?"

Another laugh, this one vibrating his skull. "The latter. It wasn't too bad, though, compared to out here. Charon is a terrible cook."

…

"Go easy on him, he's a ghoul. Can't imagine he has very many taste buds to spare."

Evelyn complained, "It's horrible. I feel like he's going to kill me someday with the things he comes up with."

…

"Have you told him?"

"I don't want to hurt his feelings."

…

The smoothskin grunted, "By the look of him, I don't think that's an easy thing to do."

Charon would agree, vehemently. He did not have 'feelings' to be considerate of. She did not like his cooking…he could accept that…she declared it horrible…it was of no matter. He would stop…she did not like it…she did not like it-

He did not care.

Not in the slightest.

(None. At. All)

Evelyn grazed his temple with her thumb. "It's something he enjoys doing, so I'll just pray he actually doesn't kill me."

-hedidnotcarehedidnotcareitdidnotmatteritdidnotmatter-

There was a dull thud of something being set down. "What'd you leave the Vault for? Can't imagine it was to see the sights…"

Charon would've thrown a fist through the gap in the smoothskin's teeth for asking such a question, and he imagined it splattering his brains everywhere as Evelyn's voice became terribly melancholy.

"My father, James…he's the reason." The delicate touches from her fingers had paused. (The smashing of the scientist's skull continued- SMASHSMASHSMASH). She said sadly, "He had left me behind for a project he had been working on- Project Purity. The overseer didn't take too well to him leaving the Vault, and so he forced me out, too."

"Project Purity? That's where I remember that name from. James is your father?"

"You knew him?" she sounded mildly surprised.

"Only briefly. I didn't hang around much, what with that bitch Dr. Li and their 'world-changing ideals'. Bunch of crap. But yeah, I've met your dad. Your mother, too."

"...Dr. Li told me a little about her. She died giving birth to me."

The smoothskin at once mellowed. "I'm sorry," he said. "She was a nice woman, from what I remember. It's been a long time... Your dad, however, sounds like a real Father of the Year Award right there."

Charon cooled, slightly. The crackpot and himself could see eye-to-eye on something, at least. Pinkerton was spared from complete obliteration and given a concussion, instead.

Evelyn sighed, "He's not a bad person, he's just… I've been looking for him ever since."

A high-pitched whine replaced the banging for a few seconds before dissolving into total silence. "So your dad abandons you, and somehow you're now stuck wandering the wasteland with a giant killer-ghoul in tow. I'm guessing the Vault wouldn't be so considerate of your new friend, so where does that put you? Hopefully not in Rivet City...bunch of fucking morons."

Evelyn intertwined her fingers through his, speeding the beating drum of his heart to an uncomfortable rhythm. She squeezed his palm, and for a split second, he tried to return it. She answered, "I don't know, to be honest. I have a house in Megaton. It's okay, and I have friends there. I guess it's home."

Her home. The little dingy shack on the side of the hill that he was reasonably certain a light sprinkle of rain would wash straight down. A four-wall, shoddily roofed, cantankerous eyesore that sweltered in the summer heat and froze in the dip of night. It was cluttered, dusted with the miscellaneous things she kept, and nothing worth gracing the front cover of a Pre-War Better Lifestyles magazine. An insignificant dot on the map of shit and worse-shit and worser-shit that he somehow looked forward coming to when the day was done, to retire his boots and hang up his gun and soak his tense muscles in a nice, hot, drawn-out bath. He liked his makeshift workshop of a room, the spartan kitchen (that he would no longer be dwelling in), and the springy couch that made sitting on the stinger of a radscorpion sound more pleasant.

"Take it from me when I say this, girl," the smoothskin drawled, "but having a home in the wasteland is a rare commodity. You make with what you have. We all do. No exceptions."

"I'd say I'm the year-end award winner for that." Charon could hear the teasing smile lifting up her voice. "Have you met my two companions?"

"Replace the mutt with a handgun and I'd say you're good to go."

"Hey! That 'mutt' is the best dog this side of the Capital Wasteland!"

Charon had some serious doubts about that. The drooling lobotomized specimen of a canine did nothing but give him an empty stare whenever it stopped to hunch over and take a shit, and he was tired of finding fucking hair everywhere. He already knew the thing to be nestled in the heart of her bed when they would return to the ship, and he, for once, felt jealous of its place.

"Megaton, huh?" the smoothskin mused, and there was the sound of footsteps clanging until he was suddenly heard overhead. "Is that Irish arsehole still around? Colin Moriarty?"

"No." Evelyn tightened her fingers around his own. "Fell off a loose railing and went splat."

"Darn…guy owed me some caps."

The bar owner, just another Ahzrukhal under a different name, living under a different roof and wearing a different skin. Charon would have gladly taken out the trash for her if she had so asked. The once irritating notion of her aversion to violence had begun to eat itself like a snake with its tail. He didn't want to see her hands sullied anymore. There was no reason to keep his clean, for they never would be. He would do anything for her.

He realized that now.

From having puke on his shoes, to disobeying orders for a bottle of high-end liquor, to saving her skin (multiple times), and gifting her his knife, and shaking down information from incompetent radio hosts, to waiting out the storm, and taking a belly full of biting lead, to picking flowers and bargaining his life for a Pip-Boy… How dangerous, it all was, carrying the title of The Boyfriend, but he would do it all again if it stayed his contract in her hand.

She could not have him without it...and he could not have her.

An ever-so-familiar clinking of caps began to trickle. The smoothskin said, "Speaking of caps, I don't think I've ever had someone come up with this much over something for someone else. Pretty unheard of…unless you're a walking toaster."

"A toaster?"

"Railroad joke. I don't expect you to get it and no, I'm not going to bother explaining it. Just don't forget the other two thousand when you swing back around…if it's still worth it."

The growl hissed from her lips was akin to an arched cat. "It is. I told you, Charon means everything to me."

"Hrmph." The downpour of caps was sloshed into a metal bin. "Pretty sure they call that 'love'."

Love. Charon had heard that word more in the past few days than in the last couple of centuries.

There was a pause before she spoke, her voice too low and soft to be heard by anyone other than him. "Yeah…I guess you could call it that." She then whispered, "You hear that, you big idiot?"

Yes. Yes he did.

The scientist's voice was somewhat closer. "Still not awake yet, huh?"

She scoffed, "Enough to down a brahmin, remember?"

Charon snorted…wait a second-

The ghoul suddenly shot upright as though electrified, honing his ugly glare straight across the room to the smoothskin working at his computer. Charon pointed a finger at his face. "You shot me."

"Drugged, actually."

"Shut up," Charon snarled. He swung his legs over the side of the gurney and slammed his boots to the floor, standing as tall as he could manage with a deep draw of air into his chest.

The scientist raised his hands like a preacher hailing the choir. "Hey now, just take it nice, and easy-"

Charon took the first step and then fell face forward to slam straight to the floor.

"Charon!" Evelyn was on her knees at his side, her hand gingerly shaking his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?!"

A guttural groan gave her his answer.

The scientist said from above, "I told him."

"We'll leave when you're ready," she said gently, and Charon grunted. "There's no rush."

Charon swiveled his head around with a bone-crunching crhk! Evelyn made a surprised noise in the back of her throat and startled back as he glared at her from a nearly 180-degree angle. He garbled, "My…contract."

She dug around in the breast pocket of her leather jacket. "I have it." The folded, crinkled paper became translucent under the grungy fluorescent lights.

He rasped, unsure and cautiously, "You still desire my services?"

Hesitation. Charon narrowed his eyes at the face she made, but she only said, "Yeah, big guy…I do."

All at once, he felt complete ease. She was still his employer, he was still the employee; all was well that ended well. His mouth twitched, his earlier maniacal grinning having made the muscles sore. He rasped, "Very well."

Pinkerton walked over and crossed his arms. "Hey, now that you're awake and talking, would you mind getting the hell off my floor? I got work to do...and so do you."