Chapter Text
Maxxie was tired, and the overbearing sun reflecting off of the endless sand dunes of the wasteland did nothing to help her overall wellness. The heat was beginning to get to her, it was evident in the deep trails of dragging footsteps that followed wherever she wandered.
Of course, the goddamn ghoul she was travelling with was no help at all. All she wanted was a fucking break, was that really too much to ask?
The stupid fucking ghoul had forced her to follow him for miles upon miles of endless nothingness. He really was good at getting on her last nerve that way. Of course, under any normal circumstances she would have never worked with someone like him. Not that Maxxie had anything against ghouls in general, just this specific ghoul. He thought he was so so so much better than everyone else. He wasn't. Definitely not better than her at least.
How had she ended up working with him you may ask? The answer is Big Daddy Doberman. The oddly named man was a sort of ring leader for bounties. Every hunter, raider, and scavver knew to go to Big Daddy Doberman for the big bucks.
Unfortunately, the usual modus operandi for him was to pair up two or three bloodthirsty mercenaries together for each bounty. He upped the price if they brought it in together, more to split overall than if one person brought back the head of the desired by themselves. Maxxie thought it must be some power play thing; either that or just pure boredom. She had to admit, the local bar in Big Daddy's corner of town had become a lot more entertaining since this little game had begun.
All day into the now afternoon theyd been walking, and all that time, Maxxie was thinking of ways to brutally murder her ‘partner in crime’. Big Daddy was a big fucking joke. Honestly, who did he think he was putting the best and the second best - Maxxie being the best, obviously - in a little duo team.
Most of the time in these groups it was opposite personalities all placed together. For example, some guy, just some guy, Hughie. He was so boring didn't even have a last name, it was just Hughie. Had been sent out on a bounty with this fucking fabulous drag queen, Linda Tame (you cant tame the beast, she had always said). So, clearly, opposites.
Madam Tame had come back and proven that you really cannot tame that beast. Hughie’s head was delivered, or what was left of it. Of course she had delivered the actual bounties head as well.
That's along the lines of how the pairings usually went. Badly. Y’know, maybe Big Daddy just wanted to lower the amount of idiots surrounding the place. Weaning out the weak ones in the most humane way possible. A shotgun shell right to the face at close range was a rather quick way to die. 400 little pellets all demolishing a little part of your brain simultaneously! Totally painless! Survival of the fittest, I guess.
It was out of nowhere that the pairing of Maxxie and the Ghoul happened. Like Big Daddy pulled it straight out of his ass or something.
They were both called in from the same bar, where they had been arguing incredibly passionately about the superiority of pistols versus shotguns. Maxxie thought she was winning it, and the Ghoul thought he was winning it. Who really won, we will never know.
It was a bit of a shock to Maxxie to find herself walking in the same direction as him, though she tried to simply ignore it at first. As the journey to Big Daddy’s Shacktastic Shack went on though, the feelings of curiosity, anger, and confusion grew inside Maxxie’s mind.
The news hit them both like a ton of bricks, which would probably be more accurate to be ten tons of bricks.
Working together? Not in a hundred years, not in two hundred years, not ever!
It was never going to work out and everyone knew it. Many a beer bottle had been blown to smithereens in Big Daddy's liquor sanctuary. They just were magnetically attracted to attempting to blow each other's heads off. He wouldn't miss his, not like the big dumb cunt used it anyways, ever.
Alas, here the two of them were. Still working together surprisingly enough. They both expected to kill each other on the first day of the trip. It had been just over a week now and they were somehow alive and well. Well, as well as you can be well when in the hot sun all hours of the day and with a beach worth of sand in your boot.
It had been a long journey. The two of them were tasked with hunting down and retrieving the head of the ringleader of some group that had been terrorising the liquor market. Maxxie was in full support of this, she relied on the liquor for peace sometimes, after all. She suspected that the Ghoul did too. She often spotted him throwing back a swig of some mystery liquor from the flask attached to one of his several belts.
One time he had gotten a bit too drunk on whatever was in his little bottle of some amber liquid and started actually talking to her. Like an actual conversation. Maxxie was incredibly surprised when the Ghoul began to suggest having a meaningful conversation. He really wasn't the type for talking at all. Maxxie would ask questions of course, but they would all be lost to the wind.
Maxxie liked it when he was talkative. It made things more entertaining, and of course it's always good to get some extra information on people. Or even good to just learn to spot their lying tells, gambling was a common vice in many of the towns, and especially in Big Daddy’s domain.
To Maxxie’s disappointment, the Ghoul revealed neither any valuable information or lying tells. Oh well, she doubted that knowing when the Ghoul was lying would benefit her much, she couldn't exactly picture them playing poker together anytime soon. Instead, he just sat back against the wall of the trailer they had camped out in for the night, and asked all about her.
Maxxie scoffed in his face at his first question. “Why do you have that massive fuckin scar on your face?” Wow, how rude, Maxxie thought.
She replied snarkily, sitting up straighter from where she was leaning on the opposite wall. “It’s from when someone tried to kiss me in the face with a motherfucking axe.”
The memory was not a pleasant one at all, but she had survived and that is what mattered the most. The asshole who did it to her was blown to smithereens now, that mattered second best.
“Who?” The question seemed strange; Why did he even care? Surely considering their history of hating each other it was out of the question for him to be genuinely interested in anything to do with her. She was shockingly proven wrong when he continued speaking in that southern drawl that sounded oh so smooth to her ears, sensing her confusion at him asking. “If we’re gonna be stuck out here together then I may as well get to know you a bit. After all, we are splitting that bounty, when we initially receive it though of course. No promises afterwards, little mouse.”
Now that pissed her off. Little mouse? Who did he think he was? She was not little, and not a mouse, for crying out loud! Obviously, Maxxie had to share her sentiments at the nickname.
“What the fuck are you calling me mouse for, huh?” She questioned in anger.
The Ghoul flicked his eyes up to meet hers, a spark flying into Maxxie's heart at the eye contact. She was unsure if it was a spark of anger or of something else, something she didn't want at all. She pushed the thought out of her mind quickly and got back to the argument at hand.
“You squeak, sweetheart.” He drew that last word out slowly, leaving her jaw hanging open in shock and irritation. How dare he suggest that she squeak. She did no such thing! Maxxie couldn't stand people insulting her like this. While she was small like a mouse, and was particularly annoying, and may or may not have a high pitched voice; she refused to be demeaned and made to seem weaker than she was.
“Watch it, asshole.” Maxxie mimicked the slow drawl of his vocal cadence in her own words, mocking his mocking right back at him. “Wouldn't wanna end up with a pretty scar to match mine, would you now?” Fortunately for Maxxie, the threat was not lost to him and he grimaced at the thought. A sudden strike of insecurity flew into her at his facial expression.
She scowled back at him and brushed the thought away to the furthest reaches of her mind, where she would never be able to reach them again. Healthy coping mechanisms were quite hard to come by in the wasteland, especially for killers like Maxxie and the Ghoul.
They both just ignored the statement until sleep approached their curled up bodies in the back of the trailer. Their backs were turned to each other, solidifying their anger with each other.
Maxxie was laying with her hand tucked right in close to her face, covering as much of her scar as possible. The seeds of doubt in herself were growing, her appearance was a tricky subject, it always had been.
The scar, as anyone would expect, caused a lot of stares from everyone around her. And it wasn't exactly easy to cover up. It stretched almost the entire length of her face, beginning at her chin on one side and trailing all the way across the curves of her face up to just above her right eyebrow.
One part of her appreciated it for making her look more battle-hardened and intimidating, the stares were partly those of fear. But the other part of her saw it as a horrible imperfection and as a constant reminder of the pains of the past. It had healed in the worst way possible, mottled red and purple raised in a jagged line.
A rogue whimper of anguish escaped from Maxxie when she lost herself to the thought. The Ghoul had immediately come to attention, like a cat responding to the call of a starving kitten. A painful bolt went through his heart, something he hadn't felt in years, too many years. Was it…empathy?
He attempted to ignore it for as long as he could but the stabbing deep in his chest just got more and more painful until it was unbearable. He shuffled a bit and adjusted to be leaning up, resting his elbows against his leather jacket laid out on the floor, which was working to cover the hard metal flooring.
From his new position, the Ghoul could see Maxxie’s position and how she hid her face from him and from the world. Faint moonlight streamed into the small space, illuminating her soft tan skin in a wan silver glow. She looked quite beautiful this way, despite her obvious sadness.
He inhaled sharply, which thankfully Maxxie either didn't hear, or didn't notice over the racing thoughts in her head. A sudden realisation reached him, a moment of clarity if you will. She was attractive, very attractive. And he hated her for it. He had hated her for it since the very beginning of their meeting each other.
The Ghoul’s shoulders slumped, rustling the fabric of his stained and ripped shirt. He let out a long sigh. This, she heard. Maxxie slightly tilted her head to better gauge what she heard from where the Ghoul was behind her. He sighed again, more heavily this time.
Maxxie anticipated another argument, or even an attempt to kill her, wouldn't be the first time, probably wouldn't be the last either.
She nearly choked on the words she spoke at her then.
“It's not bad, the scar. You're still alright to look at. I mean, you're-” His words were bitten off by him gritting his yellowed and chipped teeth together. Fuck, why couldn’t he think straight when he was with her? He swallowed the confusion and pushed through another try at being nice to her. It felt unnatural to be so nice, especially since they were no doubt planning how to kill the other in their sleep mere minutes before.
Through clenched teeth, he spoke again. “I was just curious before, it's not exactly something easy to ignore, is it?” Fuck, he said the wrong thing again, he could tell by how Maxxie shifted back to her original position, facing as far away from him as possible. He softened his tone. “What I mean is, you’re still beautiful. Now, I didn't know you before you got that thing, but it sure as hell makes you look more badass. I’d look at it any day over some fresh faced idiot.”
The Ghoul stopped himself before he said the wrong thing again, it was just instinct to add on an insult or some dig at skill levels and how he could snap her neck in seconds. He held back.
The pang in his chest was back, now joined with a longing to touch her and bring her closer. To look into her eyes, maybe even trace his fingers along her scar. Inside his gloves, which he was still wearing to conserve heat on the cold night, his fingers twitched ever so slightly, reaching out to ghost the air between the two.
What a confusing night this had turned out to be; hatred turned to insecurity, turned to regret, turned to caring. Neither of them had expected anything like this at all.
Maxxie was still trying to process what the Ghoul had just said to her. Was he implying that he liked to look at her, or that he liked anything about her in general? Surely not. Surely he was just bluffing. Maybe she should have paid more attention to figuring out his lying tells after all.
She came to a final conclusion, staring at the grey metal wall in front of her face. He wasn't lying. And he thought she was beautiful.
It was like her whole perception of him had changed. To be honest, it was all too much for her to think about in the tired and emotionally drained state she was in.
So, Maxxie simply let the tense muscles in her shoulders relax down, indicating to the Ghoul that she was not going to launch herself at him with a knife at any second. She let out a long breath and then slid her hands away from her face, revealing her scar to the cold night air once again.
The Ghoul took this as an acceptance of what he had told her. Good, it's what she meant. The next sigh that escaped his lips was not one of anguish this time, but of relief.
He relaxed too, releasing the tension that had built up in anticipation of her response. He doubted that either of them would talk about this moment again. That was alright to both of them, at least the spike of emotion had been removed from the Ghouls heart now.
With the conclusion of that emotional rollercoaster, drowsiness struck the Ghoul like a sack of cement. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the bundled up jacket he was using for a makeshift pillow.
When he woke up, Maxxie was already awake and had moved outside to sit in the rising sun. He just watched her for a moment, embracing the last scraps of pure kindness in his heart from the previous night. The emotion of it all had changed him in a way, he thought. Maybe it was possible to heal from everything that had happened to him, after all.