Archive of Our Own

He doesn’t dream, at least not really. Hasn’t for many years now, however when he does it’s always the same. He’ll open his eyes and there are flowers everywhere; he’s stretched out in a flower garden, surrounded by marigolds, ferns, rue, and asphodels.

Surrounded by grief and regret.

He always feels as if he’s in a daze in this dream, or maybe it’s a memory, as if there’s something he’s forgetting. The sound of birds singing is somewhere close, somewhere he can’t see. Letting his head fall towards the right he sees it; the lone hand lying on the ground, only a few inches from him. A strange hum starts up and all he can think is Oh.

This feels familiar to him as he reaches out to touch the severed hand. As soon as he grasps it his skin starts peeling in patches all along his arm, breath catching in his lungs. The hand rots at his touch and a mushroom cloud blooms in the distance, the sky turning from a vividly bright blue to a dark dusty color. The hand melts into ash by the time the shock waves approach and he braces himself for the impact.

It doesn’t happen often, this dream, but when it does he always wakes with his lungs desperate for air.

---

He spends his days as the bouncer for the Ninth Circle, his new contract holder’s business. His new “boss” named him Charon as a joke. A really bad joke if anyone asked him.

No one ever does.

A few months go by in the blink of an eye and Ahzrukhal has a new job for him to do along with his duties as a bouncer. “A new business venture” he’s told as he is given a large quantity of weapons. Verbal directions are given to the drop point and how many caps are to be collected.

“Don’t mess it up,” is all Ahzrukhal says as he goes to complete his task.

“It will be done,” is Charon’s only reply.

Charon begins to have the dream more often these days.

---

Ahzrukhal has a temper, a very bad one. Charon can tell by how thunderous his employer looks that he hasn’t gotten his way about something. He catches Charon looking at him impassively and exhales explosively through what remains of his nose.

“I want you to get rid of Greta.”

“She is not a threat.”

“I gave you an order, Charon.”

“She is not a threat,” he repeats. Ahzrukhal may hold his contract, but he won’t kill someone who isn’t a threat. His employer rears back, as if to hit him. “Violence invalidates the contract.”

That stops Ahzrukhal, makes him hesitate. By the look in his eyes he is far from being appeased, if anything he’s more furious with Charon’s perceived insubordination. Ahzrukhal looks out across the bar until he finds who he’s looking for. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a malicious smile.

“You won’t kill Greta? Fine. There’s something else you can do.”

Charon follows Ahzrukhal’s gaze. It lands on Gob.

---

Underworld isn’t very popular with humans since very few ever stop there, and they usually never come a second time; so of course Charon barely even notices that there’s a human present. He doesn’t get a good look at him, only able to really see a mop of loose black curls with a shock of white forelock and an armored vault suit.

Charon gets a better look nearly two weeks later, when the human enters The Ninth Circle with a dog. The human approaches him and Charon notices that not only does he have a white forelock, but his right eyebrow has a patch of white and the eyelashes on the right eye are completely white.

The human’s eyes are so dark that he thinks they’re black. He also notices that the human looks like he’s about to say something to him.

“Talk. To. Ahzrukhal,” Charon grits out. He’s been forbidden to talk to anyone but Ahzrukhal ever since he refused to kill Greta and ordered to beat Gob senseless instead. The human merely cocks his head with a faint smile before turning towards the bar.

Charon’s eyes track the human’s movements, making sure he is not a threat, before he realizes that the human’s dog is still sat in front of him. When he looks at it, the dog’s tongue lolls out of its mouth, tail wagging, as if expecting attention from the ghoul.

Charon looks back to the human who is now talking with Ahzrukhal. They are too far away for him to hear very well, only catching bits and pieces of their conversation. He thinks he hears Greta’s name being mentioned and something about a payment; he feels uneasy.

The human turns to leave and calls out, “Dogmeat, c’mon,” and the dog follows its master out of the bar.

He does not see the human or Dogmeat again for three days; Charon dreams of the hand in the garden every night and feels sick.

---

Yasha only discovers Underworld by chance; he and Dogmeat had been searching for the communication relay dish that Three Dog wanted in exchange for information. He hadn’t even had the chance to get inside the Museum of Technology since as soon as he and Dogmeat emerged from the subway system they were practically swarmed by super-mutants.

By the time Yasha and Dogmeat had finished off the last super-mutant they were in front of the Museum of History and a ghoul who introduced herself as Willow. He’s exhausted from the hours of fighting off super-mutants and the sun has nearly gone down completely, so he figures it can’t hurt to stay in the place Willow refers to as Underworld.

---

It’s Yasha’s third time visiting Underworld, trading scrap metal with Winthrop, when he sees him. The ghoul stands at nearly seven feet tall from what Yasha can tell; the ghoul is the tallest person he’s ever seen, besides the super-mutants. He’s got a large duffel filled with weapons slung over his shoulder as he’s walking down the stairs.

“Who’s that?”

“Who?”

“That tall ghoul; the one with the red hair. I don’t think I’ve seen him around here before.”

“Oh, you mean Charon,” replies Winthrop. “I’d be careful if I were you, smoothskin. He’s Ahzrukhal’s bodyguard and not much of a talker.”

Yasha nods, barely listening. He notices Dogmeat wagging her tail at Charon; he can’t be that bad if Dogmeat seems to like him. Charon crosses over the threshold of Underworld and Yasha turns back to Winthrop, continuing to count out how much scrap he has to trade.

---

“Hey, there’s my favorite tourist,” Willow greets as Yasha and Dogmeat approach. She goes down to one knee to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “You got a pack on you? I just ran out.”

Yasha smiles fondly and hands her his half empty pack of cigarettes. They both lean against the subway entrance’s half wall, having a smoke and catching up.

“Haven’t seen much of the Brotherhood since you started coming around. Not that I’m complaining, but it seems weird and kinda puts me on edge.” Yasha huffs in amusement.

“Yeah, they, uh, toned it down a bit when I fixed GNR’s radio relay problem.”

“That was you?” She asks, eyebrows rising in astonishment. “And the caravan that’s been stopping by here lately, was that you too?” Yasha nods, smirking as his cigarette hangs lazily from his lips. “Well look at you, Mr. Big-Shot,” she replies with a grin, bumping their shoulders together.

They’re both quiet as they finish their cigarettes. Willow goes to hand the pack back to Yasha but he holds a hand up and shakes his head; tells her to keep it, he’ll find more.

“By the way, Charon just got back not that long ago,” she says nonchalantly as she pockets the cigarette pack. One of Yasha’s eyebrows rises in question and she rolls her eyes at him. “I know you’ve been curious about him, tourist. Might as well go satisfy your curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat you know,” he says with a wry smile.

“And satisfaction brought it back. I know I may look young and pretty but I’ve got at least a couple of decades of wisdom on you. So go and see him before Ahzrukhal sends him out again,” Willow says as she pushes him towards the entrance.

---

“Talk. To. Ahzrukhal.”

Well that hadn’t been what Yasha was expecting. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, except to maybe get at least a ‘hello’ in. He gives Charon an amused smile before turning to the bar and heading towards Ahzrukhal.

“Ah, a new customer. What can I get you?”

“I was actually wondering who that guy in the corner is.”

“That’s Charon. Let’s just say… well, he’s a loyal employee. Don’t mess with me, he won’t mess with you.”

“A loyal employee? What do you mean by that?”

Ahzrukhal smiles at Yasha and explains. “I hold his contract, which makes me his employer. He will do what I ask when I ask, without question. You see, Charon grew up around a very interesting group of individuals. They… well, I guess you could say that they brainwashed him. He is absolutely loyal to whomever holds his contract. Unfailing, unflinching, until the day that employment ends. Don’t get me wrong, I have no doubt that he holds no end of animosity towards me. But so long as he is my employee, he is as gentle as a teddy bear.”

That doesn’t sit right with Yasha, and he hopes he doesn’t let it show. Now his curiosity about Charon has only grown. He hums in acknowledgement, trying to figure out what to do next.

“I’d like to ask you about his contract.”

“Oh?” the ghoul bartender asks with an amused look on his face. “Would you now? He is a highly valuable asset to me and the Ninth Circle. What did you have in mind?”

“What would you want in exchange for the contract?”

“Well, 2,000 caps would be sufficient. Or if you don’t have the caps we could work out a deal.”

“What kind of deal,” Yasha asks cautiously.

“Greta has become a bit of a thorn in my side lately. If you were to get rid of her I would give you Charon’s contract in exchange.”

Yasha narrows his eyes at him. “I’m not killing Greta.”

“Then the price is 2,000 caps.”

“Fine. I’ll be back with 2,000,” he says as he steps away from the bar. Yasha sees Dogmeat is still over by Charon, who seems to have been watching them. He whistles and says, “Dogmeat, c’mon,” as he exits the Ninth Circle.

Yasha has caps to collect.

---

He almost doesn’t believe it, thinks maybe his ears are finally going bad.

“You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal? So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know,” Charon says and as soon as he looks at Ahzrukhal he no longer feels the pull of the contract that kept him from harming his previous employer. “Please, wait here. I must take care of something.”

He only has one goal in mind at this very moment and he doesn’t plan on leaving until it’s done. Unholstering his shotgun he immediately heads towards Ahzrukhal across the bar. The ghoul bartender only sees his former employee approaching and takes no notice of the weapon. The closer he gets to Ahzrukhal the more his repressed resentment and hate bubble to the surface.

“That’s right, Charon. Have you come to say goodbye?”

“Yes,” is all Charon says before he shoots Ahzrukhal twice in the heart and lets out a satisfied sigh. He would have jumped in surprise when he turns to see his new employer standing not far behind him, but such reactions had been trained out of him long ago.

“I take it he wasn’t a very good boss,” is all the human says. Charon eyes him warily before responding.

“Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard. So long as he held my contract, I was honor bound to do as he commanded. But now you are my employer, which freed me to rid the world of that disgusting rat,” he practically snarls that last part.

“And now, for good or ill, I serve you.”

---

It is times like this, where his boss decides that charging a super-mutant overlord with nothing but a damn combat knife and a dog is a good idea just because he ran out of ammo that makes Charon wonder how his boss managed to survive this long out in the Wasteland.

For all that his boss claims that he came from Vault 101 Charon can tell there’s more to it than that; no one who comes out of a vault fights like this, with barely contained violence thrumming underneath the skin, or pull the same type of dumb stunts that his boss does.

Charon sighs, exasperatedly, as he reloads as quickly as he can and aims for the mutant’s neck; not an ideal target, but then again this is not exactly an ideal situation. His heart practically lodges itself in his throat in panic as he sees his boss climb up the mutant’s back, knife raised to plunge into its bloodshot eyes, and the mutant makes to grab the human’s head.

The ghoul switches his target from the neck to the raised arm; the mutant howls in pain, both from the new bullet wounds in its arm and from the knife now sticking out from its left eye.

The mutant thrashes about, knocking Yasha loose and the human drops to the ground and sprawls on his back. Turning to face Yasha, the mutant leaves its back exposed to Charon and Dogmeat; Dogmeat snarls and goes for a leg and Charon lines up a shot. His boss rolls off to the side as the super-mutant falls like a sack of bricks, screaming obscenities at the group before Dogmeat finally gets to its throat.

“Hard to believe anyone thought that this was a good idea to make a city on a boat with this many super-mutants around. Can’t believe they haven’t been overrun,” his boss says as he dusts himself off and retrieves the combat knife he had pulled from Charon’s belt, wiping it off on the sleeve of his no longer pristine vault suit.

“Hard to believe you thought it would be a good idea to use only a knife against something at least twice your size.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“While I am contractually obligated to keep you alive, I cannot exactly do a good job of it if you die because of reckless behaviour,” the ghoul deadpans.

“Words hurt, Charon,” Yasha says with a tone of mock hurt before holding the knife, hilt out, towards Charon.

The ghoul only grunts in response as he takes the knife back. He’s unsure what to say, he isn’t used to having a not terrible boss, a boss who tries to joke with him without him being the butt of it. Charon can feel Yasha looking at him; knows that he retreated back into his shell.

Yasha says nothing. Instead he begins walking towards Rivet City again, this time whistling a tune that makes the back of Charon’s skull itch with familiarity. He should tell his boss that making too much noise attracts attention from danger, but he knows it will do no good. He’s only been employed for a short time, but he can already tell his boss enjoys taunting danger.

Charon only hopes that his boss’s constant dance with danger doesn’t get him killed; he’d rather not lose probably one of the best not terrible bosses he’s had.

---

His boss has a weird fascination with the moon. Just likes to sit out at night wherever they are and just look at it. When Charon asks, the human smiles and looks at him with those nearly black eyes.

“I’d stare at the sun but I’m pretty sure I’d go blind. At least I can look at the moon without messing up my eyes. Besides, it’s really pretty.”

---

“So when did you become a ghoul?” The question is sudden and unprompted, but Charon thinks he could answer that at least, if he can focus on disjointed, blurry memories long enough.

“After the bombs dropped.” It is vague but true.

“Were you a kid like Carol when you changed?” Now this he can answer with certainty.

“No, I was not. Carol wasn’t a child either when she turned.” His boss looks confused. Of course his boss is from a vault so he wouldn’t really understand what Carol had meant by that. “It is a turn of phrase. Being alive for 200 years will make your early years all seem like a childhood of sorts. Not every ghoul views it that way though.”

“So how old were you then?”

“Why do you ask?” That earns him a shrug.

“Just curious is all.”

“… I do not remember. 25, maybe? 26?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I do not.”

Yasha does not ask more for the rest of the day, although he has new questions the next day.

---

Dr. Madison Li grates against his nerves.

Charon knows why immediately, can tell by the way her brow knits and her mouth twists like she’s tasted something sour; it’s because of his boss, because of the young human standing in front of him. The ghoul can tell that Dr. Li wishes that it had been Yasha who had died instead of Catherine, or better yet, that his boss had never been born at all. The pull of the contract whispers “She may be a threat” repeatedly at him, but he won’t do anything unless she does first.

She doesn’t. She’s all passive aggressive bark but no bite.

Instead she tells Yasha what he wants to know; more about his mother, where his father had gone, what was Project Purity. The entire time that Dr. Li is telling him about his mother, Charon can tell from her body language and attitude that she had been jealous of Catherine, how she had wanted James to want her instead, how she blamed everything on Yasha. Whether his boss didn’t notice or just didn’t care, Charon could not tell.

“If you want to find James, I suggest looking in the Jefferson Memorial,” is all Dr. Li says before withdrawing from the conversation. Charon no longer feels on edge as the contract’s pull fades away. When he looks at Yasha, however, there is an odd look on his face that the ghoul can’t place. The look is gone as soon as Yasha realizes that Charon is looking at him.

“We should get going,” he says with a small, hurt looking smile perfectly in place.

---

A trail of super-mutant corpses is left in their wake at the Jefferson Memorial. James isn’t there and Yasha is frustrated. There are audio logs though.

“Why can’t he ever stay put long enough for me to catch up to him,” Yasha says bitterly. Charon says nothing; he may be good at reading emotion on other people, but actually dealing with others emotions is not what he’s good at. Dogmeat seems to have that covered though, as she licks at Yasha’s hand and butts her head against his leg until he deflates with a heavy sigh and pats her head.

At least they know where James was planning on going next; Vault 112.

---

“What did you do before the war?”

“I was a soldier.” Charon blinks hard in surprise. Slowing his pace to a complete stop, he touches the side of his head lightly; how did he remember that? Is he even remembering it correctly?

Yasha turns to look back at him. Upon seeing his confusion (and possibly distress) he comes closer to the ghoul. “Are you alright, Charon?”

“I do not know.”

---

After they cross the Potomac, a scrawny child comes running up to them, frantically yelling something about giant ants burning down someplace called Grayditch. Once his boss has calmed the kid down, the boy asks them to look for his father; Charon notices his boss’s shoulders stiffen and his face pale, but quickly reigns himself in before agreeing.

Charon learns that Yasha has an inability to say no to anyone in need of help, especially if they’re children in need of help.

---

Yasha did as Lesko asked and let the ant queen live. If he was honest though, they couldn’t leave fast enough; he didn’t like the ant obsessed scientist one bit. The question now though was what to do with Bryan Wilks.

“I have an aunt in Rivet City,” the boy supplies helpfully. Which is great, means he won’t have to grow up without family, but that means backtracking. Yasha sighs before hoisting the kid up onto his back with Charon’s help; this was going to be a long walk.

It's dark out when they’re just past the Anchorage Memorial and Yasha begins to point out the constellations to Bryan and Charon, telling them the stories behind each one visible. The stories of Aquila, Scorpius, Cygnus, and Hercules seem to captivate his audience of two (three if you count Dogmeat) as they slowly make their way to Rivet City.

---

They stop at Megaton, before they head out to 112. Yasha gives Charon a bag of caps and says he can buy what he thinks he’ll need for the journey if he needs to. The ghoul still finds it strange that his employer never outright commands him to do anything (refuses to really), merely suggests things for the ghoul to do and leaves it up to him on whether or not he chooses to do them. It is strange and makes the contract buzz with uncertainty, but he supposes he appreciates it.

His boss points out where he can buy supplies if he chooses to, a place called Craterside Supply. With that said his boss smiles and heads off into the town, something about checking on a friend. Charon does not question it.

The shop is run by a red headed woman who introduces herself as Moira; she’s chatty, eccentric, and the shade of her hair sets Charon on edge, his head buzzing from the sensation of some half formed memory. He sees flashes of red hair and a yellow sundress surrounded by flowers and his eyes burn.

Charon does not want to sleep, he can feel pressure building at the base of his skull; he can tell that he will dream of the hand in the garden tonight. Since his employer told him that he could do as he pleased, he walks aimlessly around town. Maybe if he allows his mind to clear he will have dreamless rest.

---

He’s passing by a bar when he hears loud uproarious cheering coming from inside and what sounds like a fight. Narrowing his eyes, Charon enters the bar and sharply inhales. Yasha is fighting a man at least twice his age in a striped suit and sunglasses askew, both of their faces bloody, with a loose ring of people around them watching and drunkenly cheering.

Yasha grins, revealing blood stained teeth, before spitting in the older man’s face. The man curses and charges into Yasha, knocking him against the bar, and Charon jumps into action. Jerking the man away from his employer and twists the man’s arm and pins it against his back; the man struggles, spitting curses and threats. The contract demands something be done, “This man is a threat. He has attacked your employer. Hurt him.”

So Charon does, without question. He twists and twists the attacker’s arm until it pops. He hears screaming from the man in the suit and loud gasps from the crowd, but keeps going, the haze of the contract blocking out anything but this single-minded goal, and keeps twisting the dislocated arm.

The only thing that stops him is the hand that firmly grips his right arm. He’s met with warm brown eyes and a white forelock and he stops what he is doing as Yasha carefully pries his hands from the attacker.

“Don’t think that just because you’ve got that new attack dog of yours that Tenpenny or I will forget what you did.” This time it is Charon holding Yasha back from harming the man on the ground, as the human’s eyes go from warm to blazing with unrestrained anger and rounds on the man.

Charon has to grab his boss around his middle, lifting him up in the air to keep him from launching himself at the man, the crowd springs into raucous noise once more and caps pass from one hand to another.

Another ghoul (familiar but he can’t get a good look) shows up to help the other man up from the floor and yells at Charon over the din of the crowd to “Please get him out of here, before Moriarty comes back and sees the mess!” He does not need to be told twice, though he has to tighten his hold as Yasha tries to twist and squirm his way out.

“Eat shit and die, Burke!”

“You first, kid.”

Charon shifts his boss to his right shoulder and when the door swings shut behind them he can hear the groan of disappointment from the crowd as their free entertainment comes to a sudden end. Yasha continues to struggle in his hold as Charon tries to find the way to the human’s house.

“Be still,” Charon snaps at him. He’s surprised that his boss obeys; even more surprised that he doesn’t get yelled at for it. Instead, Yasha just awkwardly pats his back from where he’s slung over Charon’s shoulder and mumbles out a slurred “thanks.”

---

In the morning, Charon is cleaning his shotgun when Yasha comes stumbling down the stairs, nearly tripping over Dogmeat in the process. The swelling on the human’s face seems to have gone down, but yellow and purple bruises are in full bloom on his left cheek. Yasha heads to the kitchen, patting at his pockets, obviously looking for something.

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” he calls out from the kitchen. Charon hums in question. “Gotta make a detour to Arefu to deliver a letter. Shouldn’t take too long and then we can head to 112.”

The ghoul pauses his maintenance on the weapon; Arefu is in the opposite direction of Vault 112, they will have farther to go if they stop at the tiny settlement first. Yasha pops his head out from around the corner, waiting for Charon to answer.

“That will delay us in finding your father,” is all he can think to say. The human just smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, well, dear old dad is at a vault. He’ll be fine for a little longer.” There is hesitance there. Shouldn’t he want to find his father? Isn’t that what people normally do, try to keep their families together? Then again, what does Charon know of families. His only concept of them comes from memories that may not even be real and slide through his grasp like sand.

---

Arefu ended up being more than just a quick stop, what with the Family causing trouble. They end up in the Meresti train tunnels, looking for the culprits; traps are rigged everywhere and Charon can feel the contract buzzing with nervous energy, “Threats. Too many threats. Do not let the employer get hurt. Do not.”

“So… how’d you end up with the whole, contract thing?” The question throws the ghoul for a loop. His previous employers never cared to ask and he was unsure if he wanted to talk about it, especially right now. “Like, how does it all work? Ahzrukhal told me a bit about, uh… the people who trained you, I guess? What were they like?”

Charon chokes on air. He knows for sure that he does not want to talk about any of it, of them. Not any time soon at least. The ghoul doesn’t remember much of the people who had made him into what he was today, only gets a ghost of a feeling of unpleasant and cold.

Thankfully, Yasha seems to pick up on the ghoul’s reluctance to speak. The human shrugs before he continues talking, more like rambling at this point, as they continue down the train tunnel.

“Hey you don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool. I was just kinda curious, ‘cause everything out here is a lot different than in 101, but the vault wasn’t that great honestly. The Overseer was crazy, always paranoid about everything, but I guess he was right to be since dad busted out and I followed after him, though I don’t think that really warrants him ordering vault security to shoot me on sight.”

They come around a bend in the tunnels and Charon can see a sandbag barrier and lights. He slaps a hand over Yasha’s mouth and the human stops talking instantly. A man calls out to them; looks like they found the Family.

---

It took them weeks to get to Vault 112 after the Arefu ordeal. Raiders and wild animals kept getting in their way, as if it was the wasteland’s way of saying, “This journey is folly, turn back.” But of course, Yasha was too determined, too hell bent on finding his father.

Charon was sure that the human would try walking day and night continuously if he did not put his foot down and insist that they stop during the nights. And what a weird feeling that was, ordering his boss to listen to him and actually being obeyed. He could feel the contract making an unsure humming noise in the back of his head.

Every night during their journey, after they had set up camp, Yasha would tell him bits and pieces of what it was like growing up in a vault, about how he had been named after his grandfather (“A good Russian name,” Yasha says in a deep mocking voice; who he’s imitating Charon does not know), how he had always been told that he has his mother’s eyes. There was not much Charon could tell Yasha though; his memories of growing up, pre-war, were fuzzy and blurred together at best; couldn’t tell if he looked anything like his parents. He couldn’t even remember what his name had been, if he had ever had one to begin with.

The only solid thing he could really tell of his life from so long ago was the dream that he would have occasionally, and even then it was just that; a dream, a memory made messy and unclear by his own mind.

“What do you mean by grief and regret? You’re only surrounded by flowers in your dream right?”

“All plants have meaning, most even have more than one, -------. Flowers are a good way to express what is in your heart, when words fail you,” the memory of a feminine voice pops into his mind. “People call it the language of flowers.”

“Plants have meaning behind them, or at least they did. I think someone called it the language of flowers.”

“Who?”

“I do not remember.”

---

After they get into the vault Yasha immediately heads for the clinic. When he gets there and finds it empty he goes down to the pod floor. Charon and Dogmeat follow him at a more sedate pace, though once Charon sees Yasha open an empty pod, the contract screaming “Danger” at him, he moves with purpose.

“Do not” is all he manages to get out as he grabs Yasha’s shoulder, before his boss spins around to face him, jaw set in determination.

“My dad is in one of these, probably stuck in a simulation, I’m not leaving him in there!”

“If he is stuck in there then who is to say that you will not get stuck too? What then?”

They both scowl at each other, both too stubborn to budge. Standing there for minutes, but feels like hours, arguing with only their eyes. Finally Yasha seems to relent.

“Okay, okay. I won’t get in the pod. Let’s head back up to the clinic, think of a better way to go about this.” They’re halfway up the stairs when Charon realizes that his boss gave up far too easily and as soon as he stops he can hear Yasha running back down the stairs towards the pod.

Charon immediately gives chase, gaining ground quickly, nearly catching his boss before Yasha yells “Dogmeat! Play!” and the dog, runs in between his legs, tripping up Charon, causing him to crash sideways to the ground.

When he looks up from the ground his boss is climbing into the pod and panic courses through his veins. The ghoul scrambles to his feet yelling “Yasha do not!” but is too late as the human says “Sorry, Charon.” The pod seals shut when Charon reaches it.

Charon’s hands shake and his head is pounding, he can hear the contract screeching at him in his head. His breathing becomes short and erratic; he can hear Dogmeat, whining and pawing at him, his distress clearly worrying her, but everything sounds like he’s underwater and when did he sit down?

Suddenly he’s got an armful of dog and he buries his face in her fur, trying to ground himself and quiet the contract’s outrage at his failure to keep his employer safe and his own anger at being duped so easily.

He is angry, so angry he feels like he is burning from the inside out. Charon cannot remember ever being so upset, so emotional, than he is at this very moment.

The ghoul does not remember falling asleep next to Yasha’s pod, but he does, exhausted from the intense nerves and anger. Dogmeat curls around him but stays awake, watching over both of her people.

---

Tranquility Lane, Yasha thinks to himself, is a monochrome nightmare.

“Make Timmy Neusbaum cry,” Betty had ordered. That had seemed simple enough, until he actually saw the kid and guilt roiled in his stomach. He can’t do this, he can’t make this kid cry, even if he is 208 years old and this is just a simulation.

If Yasha wants to save his dad though he has to do it. He could beat Timmy up, that would be easy, but the thought of that just makes him feel worse. Options, there has to be options, he just needs to look for them.

The alternative to beating the kid up is the pamphlet for a nonexistent military school on the Neusbaum’s kitchen table. Yasha can still feel the cocktail of guilt and shame clawing its way up his throat, but at least this is a guilt he can live with. Once Timmy begins to wail at the top of his lungs Yasha runs back to Betty.

---

He has to destroy the Rockwell’s marriage. He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to do any of this really, but this is what he gets for not listening to Charon. Yasha really wishes he had listened; maybe actually tried to find another way. He made this choice though, made this bed and now he has to lie in it.

Yasha reads Mrs. Rockwell’s diary, looking for anything that could be useful to his current task. Mrs. Rockwell intense dislike for Mrs. Simpson gives him an idea.

---

Placing the lingerie on Mr. Rockwell’s desk and convincing Mrs. Rockwell that her husband was cheating on her wasn’t too hard. Braun’s, formerly Betty, next task though - killing Mrs. Henderson - that was going to be hard. He’s managed to avoid having to kill any of the residents so far, but he can’t get out of it this time.

Yasha remembers Mrs. Simpson saying something about how Mrs. Henderson loves to bake pies. He could rig the oven; mess with it so that it leaks gas.

He feels like vomiting.

---

Killing Mrs. Henderson wasn’t enough for Braun. Now he wanted Yasha to kill the remaining residents. He feels sick, these people don’t deserve this, but if he doesn’t, he and his father will be trapped here forever and he can’t do that, not when Charon and Dogmeat are waiting for him. God, he really needs to apologize for tricking the ghoul.

So of course, when he’s in the middle of having a moral dilemma that’s when Old Lady Dithers decides to tell him about the fail-safe. He wants to scream, why didn’t she tell him sooner? But he has no time for that; he has a simulation to end.

---

He wakes to someone calling his name. Everything is in greyscale and the (familiar?) room spins as he snaps up into a sitting position. Clutching at the side of his head he falls back onto the bed, the springs groaning at the sudden movement. His body stiffens at the feel of having a full head of hair. Someone’s still calling his name from not too far away; the voice sounds feminine but slightly warped.

With shaky breaths he touches his cheek with tentative fingers; skin, smooth skin, not the marred, rotten looking skin he has had to look at for 200 years. A mirror, he needs a mirror. He gets up from the bed and as he flings open the door the smell of something sweet hits him.

He rushes down the hallway towards the kitchen when a flash of red catches in his peripheral. Backing up he gazes into a slightly blurred grey face with bright blue eyes and red hair. He reaches out to touch when he sees another hand reach up as well. Flinching back he realizes who he is looking at.

Himself.

The sickly sweet smell grows stronger and his name is being called again. He manages to tear his gaze away from the mirror and continue towards the kitchen. He stops just outside of the room when he sees that there’s someone in there, standing in front of a stove; a woman with her back to him, red hair and a yellow sundress.

Her back is still to him. He stops a few steps behind her and opens his mouth to say something but no words come out. When she turns around there is no face, only dahlias, elderflowers, pink carnations, and eglantine roses framed by red hair.

Dignity, compassion, a mother’s love, and a wound to heal.

The back of his throat burns at the implication of who she is; red hair and a yellow sundress and the feeling of home and the scent of flowers. He can feel bile rise up and burn his already ruined throat.

She places a soft hand on his cheek and he feels like he is coming apart at the seams because he cannot tell what is worse; the possibility that this is just something that they fabricated to mess with him or that this really is just his disjointed memories trying to fit themselves together again.

The woman sits him down at the table when he starts shaking like a leaf. She’s talking as she cooks, but it sounds muffled, like he’s underwater. He startles when she places a plate of pancakes in front of him. She brushes her fingers through his hair and kisses the crown of his head before she turns back to the stove and cracks an egg into the pan.

The hiss it lets out as it drops into the still hot pan sounds an awful lot like a lounger pod opening. The dream ends and Charon wakes.

---

Charon is on his feet in an instant, and as soon as the pod fully opens and the needle slips out of Yasha’s neck, the ghoul grabs the human by his shoulders.

“Do not do that ever again,” the ghoul grits out as he checks him over for nonexistent wounds. The human, still slightly disoriented from exiting the simulation can only nod. Their reunion is interrupted by another reunion as James comes over to them. Charon releases his hold on Yasha and steps to the side.

He feels dread crawling up his spine as father and son argue about James leaving the vault and how James had wanted Yasha to stay in 101 and that he should go back.

“No, I’m not going back!”

“Yasha, I am your father and you will listen to me! Go back to 101; it’s the safest place for you.”

“Excuse you, dad. I’m not 10 anymore, you can’t tell me what to do. If you wanted me to stay in 101 then you shouldn’t have left, because as soon as you did the entire vault wanted my head on a platter.” That gives James pause.

James sighs and rubs his forehead, as if the vault wanting to kill Yasha was just a minor inconvenience that Yasha was blowing out of proportion. Charon thinks that much like Dr. Li, James will grate on his nerves as well.

---

That night they stay in the garage above Vault 112; except for James. Yasha’s father left for Rivet City as soon as possible. Yasha is unusually quiet and curls up into a ball pressed against Charon’s side, head resting against the ghoul’s shoulder. The ghoul is at a loss for what to say, if he should say anything, but the human speaks before he can.

“He’s always been like this. He acts as if he knows what’s best instead of listening. Always trying to be a good parent, but you can’t do that if you keep your kid at arm’s length all the time,” Yasha says quietly, barely above a whisper. “Sometimes… Sometimes I think the only person who really loved me, who really wanted me, is mom and she’s been dead for years…”

There’s nothing Charon can say to that; he does not know if the woman from his dream really was his own mother, for all he knows she never really existed. Instead he carefully moves his hand to Yasha’s head, and brushes his fingers through the human’s black and white hair repeatedly. He seems to relax at that so the ghoul continues.

“Dad tries to put up a good front that he really does care, but he’s never been a very good liar, not when it comes to actual feelings. The only person he truly cares about was mom. I was just a terrible consolation prize,” Yasha confesses wetly, voice cracking as if he’s holding back tears. When his boss sits forward Charon removes his hand. The human rubs at his eyes before looking at Charon.

“I’m sorry for tricking you earlier. That was shitty of me to just leave you and Dogmeat like that.” Yasha says, eyes bright as if he’s on the verge of crying. “We could’ve figured out another way to get my dad out.”

And Charon is at a loss for words. His throat burns as he clears it before replying. “Thank you.”

Yasha gives him a watery smile, curling back up against his side, Dogmeat joining them at Charon’s other side.

---

They make a stop at Tenpenny Towers. The people here do not like Charon, but Charon couldn’t care less about them; he is only here because Yasha is so he stays quiet, sneering at the disgusted looks of the residents.

The people of Tenpenny don’t even try to hide their loathing of ghouls and they expect Yasha to agree with them. Instead his boss gives them the kind of smile that would make the hair on the back of even Charon’s neck stand on end (if he had any hair left in that area of course). When Yasha smiles like that he never says anything, just watches in glee as they try to backpedal and appease Yasha’s suddenly icy smile.

Charon has to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle laughter that threatens to bubble up when that happens.

It is strange, when he thinks about it, how people in the wasteland are so affected by Yasha, specifically when talking to him; they listen to him, usually charmed by him one way or another, and when they’ve somehow put their foot in their mouth they feel shame when usually they wouldn’t. The Tenpenny residents for example; they hate ghouls, no doubt about it, but when Yasha seems displeased, repulsed even, by their behavior like he expects better of them and is disappointed, they become embarrassed and ashamed.

It’s a god damn spectacle to watch, the way Yasha can sway a room just by being in it. They’re drawn to him, like moths to a flame, and Charon can’t seem to look away.

---

As they make their way back towards Megaton they stop at a place called Andale. There’s something… off about this town, but Yasha can’t place it. He can tell this place makes Charon uneasy too, with how he never takes his eyes off of Jack Smith and Bill Wilson.

Maybe it’s how all the adults in town are too friendly, or maybe how shaky their hands are and how they smell faintly of blood. There aren’t even any brahmin in town to explain away the ever present scent of blood that hangs over Andale.

The shed out back behind the Wilson’s house keeps catching his eye. There’s something strange about it, how the scent of death intensifies around it; it makes him want to gag and his skin crawl. Charon keeps trying to get him to leave, “There is danger here,” is all he’ll say. Even Dogmeat doesn’t like this place, her ears are flat and her tail hanging low, soft whines and growls are the only sounds she’ll make as she keeps close to him and Charon.

When Yasha tries to talk to Old Man Harris all he gets is an ominous warning.

“Don’t you know any better? You shouldn’t have come here! Just about everyone in the wasteland knows to avoid Andale, and they’re right to do it. People wander in here, and they don’t wander back out. Check the shed if you don’t believe me!”

That almost makes it impossible to convince Charon to not throw him over his shoulder and march them out of Andale.

“It is not safe. We are lucky that he even bothered to warn us.”

“We can’t just leave! What if there’s someone in that shed who needs our help? What if other people end up passing through here and something bad happens to them because we did nothing?” Charon exhales heavily at that and clenches his jaw in frustration; Yasha feels bad whenever that happens, but he can’t just leave and do nothing about this.

“If you’re so determined to do this then how do you plan on getting into the shed? It’s locked.”

“There’s bound to be a key around here somewhere. They’ve probably got one in their house, I’ll go find it,” Yasha says as he turns to head to the house. Charon grasps his arm before he can get too far.

“That is not safe. I will go with you.” Yasha shakes his head and Charon’s eyebrows knit together at that.

“Can’t exactly sneak in and steal a key if there’s a seven foot tall ghoul and a dog with me. You two aren’t exactly inconspicuous. I’ll be fine, trust me,” his voice goes soft at the end. “Please.”

Charon holds onto his arm for a moment longer before letting go with a reluctant nod.

---

Yasha slips into the Wilson’s house unnoticed. He carefully makes his way to the staircase and moves up them at a painstakingly slow pace; he doesn’t want any creaky steps to give him away. He figures that the best place to start looking for keys to creepy sheds would be in the master bedroom, then maybe the kitchen if he can’t find anything in the first location.

Lucky for him he finds a key on top of the night stand for all to see. Not so lucky for him is that as soon as he picks it up he hears the house’s front door open. Shit.

“Bill, dear, is that you?” Mrs. Wilson calls out from the bottom of the stairs and he needs to leave now. He slides open the window as quickly as he can and pokes his head out; Charon and Dogmeat are still there in the backyard waiting for him. Yasha waves to them as he starts climbing out of the window and he can hear Charon curse under his breath as he rushes forwards. Yasha jumps as soon as he hears footsteps coming up the stairs.

Charon manages to catch him, but they both end up falling over into the dead grass.

“What is wrong with you?” Charon hisses at him and Yasha clamps a hand over the ghoul’s mouth. Martha Wilson’s voice faintly saying, “Huh, I don’t remember leaving that open,” before the window slides shut with an audible click.

Yasha grins at the ghoul beneath him as he holds up the key; Charon scowls and removes the human’s hand from his face.

---

The smell of blood and flesh inside the shed is much worse than he thought possible; it smells worse than the gore-bags that the super-mutants keep. Yasha is gagging as soon as he crosses the threshold. Charon doesn’t care much for the smell either if the grimace on his face is anything to go by.

There are knives and rippers, the blades crusty with dried blood, scattered over counters along with half rotted entrails. Yasha is really glad he hadn’t accepted the meat pie Mrs. Smith had offered him earlier that day. When he opens one of the freezers he closes it faster than he opened it, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

When Dogmeat begins to snarl at the shed door he knows it’s time for them to leave.

---

“Bring home the bacon? Those are people, not bacon! What the fuck!”

“Hey! I’ll have none of that language in this house!”

“I can’t believe I’m being called a potty mouth by a cannibal…”

“Okay, that’s it. I warned you. Now I’m gonna sock your jaw, mister.”

---

“I still can’t believe I got called a potty mouth by a cannibal,” Yasha mutters as they leave Andale. Charon doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly that he might as well have.

---

As soon as they get back to Megaton the first thing Yasha does is fall face first onto his bed and sleep for nearly two days straight. When he wakes it is early afternoon and his stomach clenches in pain from lack of food. He grabs his knapsack and brings it to the kitchen with him; he can sort through what to keep and what to sell while he eats.

He sets himself down in front of the couch with a can of Pork n’ Beans and begins to rummage through his knapsack. When he finally reaches the bottom of it he finds something that he hasn’t seen in months that brings a smile to his face; his well-used copy of The Princess Bride. Yasha quickly forgets his original task in favor of reading the book.

The next two hours pass by with him shoveling food into his mouth as he’s completely enraptured by his favorite story. He’s made it to Inigo’s revenge when Charon comes in through the front door. Yasha waves at him before returning to the book and the ghoul pauses, his brow furrowing.

“What is that?”

“The Princess Bride; it’s the good parts version. You ever read it?” Yasha has a small smile on his face as he remembers Jonas saying that to him when he had given him the book all those years ago. Charon shakes his head in response.

“Would you like to?” The ghoul hesitates before replying.

“…I do not know if I remember how.” Yasha pats the space on floor next to him.

“Well no time like the present to find out.”

---

Yasha can’t stop grinning. Ever since he introduced the book to Charon the ghoul has been unable to put it down; reading it over and over again for nearly the entire week they spend in Megaton. He only wishes that he was able to show him the pre-war movie version of it, but that is very unlikely to happen since the only copy of it that he knows works is back in Vault 101, probably packed away with the rest of Jonas’ things; a pang of hurt and guilt lodge in his gut as he thinks of Jonas’ fate.

It’s good to see Charon be so expressive, so captivated, when he reads the story.

When they have to head to Rivet City to meet with James, Charon reluctantly puts the book down. Yasha puts it back into his knapsack with his supplies. His grin grows wider whenever Charon answers him with “As you wish.”

---

The sounds of splashing water and laughter mixed with barking permeate the early October air outside of the Jefferson Memorial. They had finished clearing out the Memorial of any remaining super-mutants, so while the scientists set things up for continuing Project Purity, Yasha plays with Dogmeat in the shallows and Charon cleans their extra weapons. The ghoul keeps an eye out for mirelurks.

Water splashes and lands close to Charon’s feet; he looks up from his task but Yasha and Dogmeat are still running around in the irradiated water. He goes back to cleaning one of their spare rifles.

Water splashes again, as soon as he’s put the rifle away, and this time it lands on him, drenching his lap and chest. When he looks up he can see Yasha trying, and failing, to hide a grin. Charon’s eyes narrow, two can play that game.

The ghoul wades into the water after the human and lifts him up and tosses him towards deeper water. Yasha shrieks in delight as he goes flying through the air and lands in the murky water. The human is all smiles and breathy laughter when he resurfaces; Charon feels his heart stutter and squeeze at the sight.

Oh no.

---

They read The Princess Bride together, huddled close as the scientists run diagnostics on the purifier’s systems. They aren’t needed right now so what better way to keep themselves from being underfoot? Some of the scientists look at them strangely as they pass by, maybe because of how Yasha rests his head on Charon’s shoulder, or how Charon has an arm curled around Yasha, as they read.

---

Charon was right in his earlier estimate about James. The man obviously resembles Yasha, white forelock and all with the only physical differences being the eyes, voice, and Yasha’s darker skin tone when compared side by side.

Father and son are as different as night and day in regards to their personalities though. Which Charon is thankful for, though he doesn’t think he’d like James even if he was like his son; the wasteland wouldn’t be able to handle two Yasha’s. Charon knows he certainly couldn’t, dealing with one reckless human was tiring enough.

James grates on his nerves, more than Dr. Li does. It comforts him to know that Dogmeat doesn’t seem to think highly of her master’s father either, if the way she refuses to even go near the man at all is any indication.

“Always trust the dog,” he remembers Yasha saying early on, after he had acquired Charon’s contract. So far that has unfailingly rung true.

Charon and Dogmeat wait by the rotunda door, while Yasha speaks with James about getting Project Purity up and running again. The ghoul scowls; he does not think much of James. What kind of father abandons their child and then works them to the bone, never so much as giving at least a simple “thank you.” He grits his teeth as he feels anger beginning to boil over in him; this hits too close to home, possibly due to his disjointed maybe-real-maybe-not-real memories.

He’s still scowling when Yasha and James come over; the older man explaining what is needed in the sub-basement, the younger nodding in acknowledgement. They turn to go when James speaks up; he has something to say to Charon. Yasha’s brow furrows in confusion, but says that he and Dogmeat will wait by the basement door.

“I just wanted to say thank you, for looking out for my son,” James says with a smile plastered on his face. It’s as hollow as his words. Charon scoffs at him; this entire situation rubs him the wrong way.

“Because you certainly do not,” the ghoul retorts. This brings James up short, the fake smile shattering and being replaced by shock which in turn is replaced by indignation.

“What is that supposed to mean? I care about my son! You know nothing-”

“I know enough,” Charon interrupts, “To know that your son is not fooled, and frankly neither am I. The least you could do is to not rub it in his face with your poor acting.”

Charon is done speaking with him, so he quickly turns on his heels and exits the rotunda. The ghoul doesn’t answer the questioning look on Yasha’s face when he approaches. When had he gotten so invested in this man? The contract is eerily silent.

---

Yasha is yelling and banging his fists on the door as James falls over and Charon has to tear him away from it as the Pipboy’s Geiger counter climbs higher and higher. Dr. Li leads them to a tunnel cover and the rest of the scientists are down below waiting for them.

As they move through the escape tunnels Charon wants to snap at Dr. Li, tell her that if she really wants their help so badly that she should cool it with the attitude; Yasha catches his eye though, obviously fed up with her as well, shaking his head and mouthing “Not worth it.” At least he’s not the only one irritated by her passive aggressive behavior.

Yasha rolls his eyes as Dr. Li goes off again, giving Charon a look that says “Can you believe her?” The ghoul tries to hide the smirk that’s forcing its way onto his face; he must fail since he and Yasha are being leveled with a glare by the now tight lipped Dr. Li.

They keep moving.

---

“Lyons! I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me! You open this goddamn door right now!”

Yasha’s gotta say it’s nice to not be the one Dr. Li is going off on for once. He’s relieved when the gates open; it means that he, Charon, and Dogmeat no longer have to stay close to Dr. Li and the other scientists. He will at the very least see them to just inside the doors though. His father is dead and he no longer has any obligations to help them.

Of course as soon as they enter the Citadel, Elder Lyons assumes that Yasha wants to see this through to the end, and while yes, it would be good for the wasteland to have access to clean water, it is not Yasha’s responsibility. He ends up being stuck with that responsibility however, when Elder Lyons won’t let him get a word in and directs them to speak with Scribe Rothchild.

---

He doesn’t remember Star Paladin Cross; of course he was only a baby the last time they had seen each other. She seems nice enough, but the way she goes on about how his father was a great man, someone who could do no wrong, doesn’t sit well with him.

It’s a disconcerting pattern he’s noticed out here in the wasteland. Almost everyone who he’s come across who knew his dad 20 years ago seems to have idolized him, built him up to be some infallible being. Yasha can see how that happened; out here in the wasteland, lack of access to clean water is a problem and then along came James, a man determined to do the impossible and seemed to have been well on the way of accomplishing it.

But Dr. Li was right. His father had only ever been focused on two things; Project Purity and Yasha's mother. When she died he abandoned the project and everyone thought it tragic yet admirable that he would go to such lengths to protect his son. Yasha can’t help but wonder if his father abandoned the project because he thought that that was what his wife would have wanted or if he sincerely wanted to keep him safe.

He’ll never know now.

---

“Tourist! Where’ve you been?”

“Around,” Yasha replies with a fond smile. He’s missed Willow. She slings her arm around his neck and pulls him down so she can ruffle his hair.

“You been gone so long we thought you might’ve gotten squashed by a behemoth,” Willow says with a wry smile. She nods at Charon in greeting when she notices him.

“That’s actually almost happened a couple of times,” Yasha says, this time turning the fond smile towards Charon; the ghoul doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. “I’ve got a lot of scrap for Winthrop though, so hopefully he won’t be too upset with me.”

“Speaking of people being upset, you should go see Barrows. He’s got a smoothskin in the Chop Shop. She probably won’t be too happy to wake up surrounded by ghouls.” Yasha nods and begins to head towards Underworld’s entrance when Willow speaks up again. “I’d like to catch up with your bodyguard, if you don’t mind.”

Yasha turns around so that he’s walking backwards to the door, smiling as he says “It’s up to him.”

---

Willow lights a cigarette and takes a drag before she says anything. “You seem happier.”

“Well I no longer work for Ahzrukhal,” Charon answers, monotone. Willow snorts.

“True. Tourist… he’s treating you fairly? He’s a good kid, but having power over others can go to peoples’ heads sometimes.” Charon doesn’t answer for a few moments.

“He has never outright ordered me to do anything. I think he forgets sometimes that he even holds my contract,” he says, gazing out over the super-mutant trenches.

“You gonna murder him if he loses your contract?” Charon’s head snaps around to look at her.

“No,” he answers vehemently. The contract objects at the thought of killing Yasha, but it’s barely even noticed over Charon’s own intense objection at the thought. Willow taps the ash off of her cigarette.

“What will you do when he gives you your contract then?”

“Don’t you mean if?” Willow gives him a knowing smile.

“Not if. When.”

Charon doesn’t know how to respond to that. All he knows is that he will never kill Yasha, contract be damned.

---

Turns out the new patient in the Chop Shop is a woman by the name of Reilly, leader of Reilly’s Rangers, a group Yasha has never heard of before. She tells him of her squad’s plight and practically begs him for help. He can’t bring himself to refuse.

By the end of it Yasha never wants to see frag mines or D.C. ever again for as long as he lives.

---

They get back to Megaton late at night. The spare room is his, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that; when he was employed by Ahzrukhal he slept on the bar floor. At least the mattress is a vast improvement compared to the sticky floor of the Ninth Circle.

Yasha has sequestered himself in his own room. The human had been quiet the entire way back to Megaton; Charon wonders if the loss of James is finally catching up to Yasha. He does not sleep, can’t bring himself to and cannot figure out why, so he lies on his mattress, listening to the whirs and clicks of Wadsworth downstairs and the faraway drunken revelry coming from Moriarty’s Saloon.

After an hour of passing the time listening to the town’s nighttime sounds, there is someone standing on the other side of his door. They are hesitating to knock; he can tell it is Yasha. Carefully rising from the mattress, Charon makes his way to the door and opens it just as Yasha raises his hand to knock. The human startles, not having expected it.

The ghoul examines the human standing in front of him; Yasha’s eyes are red rimmed and puffy, trying to avoid eye contact with Charon, and his hands are fidgeting. Charon waits for him to speak. It takes a few moments of Yasha shifting from foot to foot, wringing his hands.

“I… I was wondering if it would be alright if I could… I don’t,” Yasha stumbles over his own words. He looks up at the ghoul with hopeful eyes. “I don’t want to be alone right now. Is that okay?”

It strikes him how quiet and unsure Yasha sounds. He only realizes that he hasn’t answered when Yasha shrinks even further in on himself and starts apologizing for disturbing him so late at night. Charon reaches out and lightly grips his wrist, that causes Yasha to stop, and he nods before saying just as quietly, “As you wish.” He gets a watery smile and a wet laugh in response.

Once they have settled on the mattress, Yasha tucks his head under Charon’s chin, and as his breathing evens out he whispers a shaky “thank you.” He presses his mouth against the crown of Yasha’s head and the human falls asleep. Charon follows soon after and dreams of warm brown eyes and black hair with a white forelock and a smile so beautiful it reminds him of blue roses.

---

The beeping of the Pipboy wakes them both, just as the sun begins to rise. It is a distress signal that addresses Yasha by name; it’s from 101. Yasha bolts from the mattress, slipping slightly on the freshly mopped floors (Wadsworth must have begun his daily routine already) in his hurry to get dressed.

Charon is in front of him and places a hand on his chest, stopping him just before the stairs. He frowns at him and Yasha frowns back. “The vault is not safe for you. You have stated many times that its residents wish you harm.”

“I can’t leave Amata to deal with this on her own. I have to help her; if she hadn’t helped me I wouldn’t have gotten out of there at all.” This seems to change the ghoul’s mind.

---

He’s so happy to see Amata again (and also relieved that she’s still alive), though they both wish it were under better circumstances. Their reunion is basically a tight hug and both saying “I’m so glad you’re alive” before Amata explains what has happened down here since Yasha left all those months ago.

Riots, the Overseer cracking down on the “rebels,” and the deaths of Jim, Janice, and Paul. For some reason Amata thinks that he’s the only one who can talk some sense into her dad.

“He won’t listen to me, or any of us, but you’ve been outside the vault, you and your dad survived!”

“My, uh… my dad died, Amata." The look on her face is sympathetic as she squeezes his arm gently.

“I’m so sorry, Yasha. But what I’ve said is true, you’re the only one who can get my father to see reason. I’ve tried but he doesn’t listen to me. But promise me that you and you’re, uh, friend over there won’t hurt him. He’s still my father after all.”

“I promise, Amata,” Yasha says with a half-smile. As he moves away from his friend he moves over to where Charon is waiting by the door with Dogmeat. “Charon, can you stay here with Dogmeat, please?” The ghoul sighs loudly and looks like he’s getting ready to argue until Yasha touches his forearm and asks again softly. “Please?”

“As you wish,” comes the reply, though Charon doesn’t look happy about it. Yasha smiles and heads out, but not before he looks in Amata’s direction and sees that she’d been watching them, a curious look upon her face. She flashes him a mischievous smile when Yasha meets her eyes; he feels his face heat up and leaves. He doesn’t want to think about the implications right now, not when he has an Overseer to convince.

He just hopes Amata doesn’t try to interrogate Charon; that wouldn’t end well for anyone.

---

“With your leadership, no one in this vault has much of a future.”

“That would be where you’re wrong, young man. By locking down this vault, I’m protecting its future,” the Overseer sneers. “In fact, I was protecting its future when I had to make those unpleasant choices the night you and your father abandoned us. I only wish I could have stopped your father before he left. If anyone’s to blame for the unpleasantness, it’s him.”

“The vault doesn’t have to be isolated in order to keep its residents safe, can’t you see that?”

“And what makes you so certain about that? I can’t imagine you’re still so naïve after spending time in that hell outside,” the older man’s voice rising with each word. “None of them know what the outside is like, and most of them would die out there. Then the rest of us inside would eventually die out, too. I won’t risk all of our lives just for few people’s passing fancy of taking a Wasteland vacation. I hope you can understand that.” The Overseer’s voice quiets towards the end and all Yasha can see is a sad, old man who is out of touch and scared for the well-being of his people, though that doesn’t excuse his actions and terrible decisions that have hurt the very people he’s trying to keep safe.

Yasha sighs, rubbing at his forehead, and thinks everything over carefully before replying.

“The rebels are upset because you lied to them about the outside.”

“They have to understand that we did that to keep them from going outside and getting killed. To keep them from making the same mistake our generation did when we were their age. Some of us already lost loved ones out there long ago. We won’t lose anymore today.” Yasha’s gut clenches. The Overseer doesn’t know what security is planning for the rebels, doesn’t have a fucking clue as to what’s going to happen.

“You’re going to lose more if you keep going down this path you’re so set on.” He continues on even though the Overseer looks like he’s going to protest. “Vault security is planning to make an example of the rebels. They’re going to kill them to scare everyone else into submission. This is what your lies and secrets have gotten you and I know you’ve never liked me but I need you to listen to me, Amata needs you to listen to me. I know the outside world seems terrifying, but you need to open the vault. If you don’t the vault will collapse anyway because of inbreeding; it will happen much sooner if you let security go through with their plan to ambush the rebels. You need to open the vault.”

Yasha waits with baited breath for the Overseer’s answer.

---

“I… I just heard. My father says he’s stepping down as Overseer. He won’t tell me why, but I have to assume it’s something you said to him.”

“You both care about the vault’s residents. Just in different ways,” is all Yasha offers.

“It’s hard to forgive what he’s done, but I suppose I can understand why he did it. I’m glad you brought him to his senses. But now there’s a new Overseer in charge! And I’m planning on opening the vault, this time for good. It’s a bright new day for the vault… but I’m afraid there’s one thing that has to change. Thank you for all you’ve done, but there are still many who blame you for what happened. So I have to ask you to leave. I’m sorry, but the situation is just too delicate for you to stay.”

Yasha smiles sadly, understanding. “I know. But there’s something I have to get first before I leave.” Amata follows him into his dad’s old office and watches as he opens the safe hidden behind the framed bible passage and retrieving the safe's contents. “I didn’t have time to get everything out of here when I left the first time, so I might as well get it before I leave for good.”

“I’ll see you and your friend out. And don’t think you’ll get off easy; he wouldn’t answer any of my questions.” Yasha groans but there’s not much he can do to dissuade Amata when she’s made her mind up about something.

---

“So,” Amata tries to say nonchalantly as they make their way towards the vault door, “is he, you know?” Yasha turns pink. He’s glad that Charon and Dogmeat are walking far enough behind them that he can’t hear this conversation. Probably.

“Haha, what? No, no way,” Yasha laughs nervously. The look she’s giving him says that she’s not buying it at all. He swallows thickly. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy but there’s no way that he even thinks of me like that-”

“But do you think of him like that?”

“Yes- I mean no!” Amata laughs, bumping their shoulders together as Yasha drags his hands down his face in exasperation. “Okay so I like him. Really, really like him. But it’s… complicated. Basically impossible that he would even feel the same.”

“See? I knew under all those stunted emotions you were capable of really liking someone. You’ve really grown out there. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking so if it’s so complicated just make it not complicated? It can’t be that hard.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“You’re probably just overthinking it. Again.” And with that they’ve made it to the exit; Charon and Dogmeat wait by the cave door as Amata and Yasha give their final goodbyes. Amata gives him another hug, and Yasha worries that this is the last time they’ll ever see each other; he’s gonna miss her. Amata giggles in his ear. “Be subtle, but look at his face. You can’t tell me now that he can’t possibly feel the same way.”

Yasha looks at Charon’s face out of his peripherals and he sees what look she means. It gives him butterflies. Amata releases him and steps back as he walks through the vault door for the final time.

“Ready to get out of here? I never was a big fan of places that were modeled after tin cans,” Yasha says jokingly and he’s so screwed because Charon’s giving him that barely there smile he sometimes does when he finds something or someone amusing and his mouth has gone dry and his pulse kicks up its pace.

“As you wish.”

Oh no. Amata what have you done?

---

Yasha has been acting strange since they left Vault 101, and Charon thinks it must have been something Amata had said. The human will go quiet at times and whenever he looks at him he suddenly becomes a bumbling mess. The only thing that seems normal about Yasha’s current behavior is that he stays in Charon’s room every other night and that hadn’t been something that had ever occurred until after they returned from the Citadel.

Stranger still is that Charon has not heard the pull of the contract as much lately and when he does it is very quiet, as if it was fading away, losing its hold on him. He knows it is still there, no matter how withdrawn it has become as of late.

---

“What are you doing, you have a perfectly good bed,” Charon grunts, bleary eyed, as he shifts to make space for Yasha, who is crawling under the blankets to join him.

“I like it better here, it’s comfy,” Yasha mumbles as he tucks himself in close to Charon. The ghoul snorts as he wraps an arm around the human.

“Oh yeah, the smell of a corpse is really comforting.”

“Oh please you don’t smell that bad.”

“You must have a terrible sense of smell then.”

“Hush you.” Charon can hear the fond, joking tone in Yasha’s voice so it’s not an order, never an order, and his heart is doing that telling stutter and squeeze again. He carefully tightens his grip on Yasha.

“As you wish.”

---

The goal now is to find a G.E.C.K. They got lucky with Little Lamplight; the children were still wary of them, but at least allowed them in so they could get to the vault.

Vault 87 isn’t quite what was expected. Swarms of radroaches and hordes of super-mutants and centaurs everywhere; Dogmeat seemed to be happy though, tearing into every green limb she could see.

Charon is wary of Fawkes, when they find him. The super-mutant offers to retrieve the G.E.C.K. and Dogmeat likes the big green mutant, so he begrudgingly says nothing. It’s going well, too well if you ask him. Something is bound to go wrong.

Yasha says he shouldn’t worry so much.

Too bad Charon ends up being right. After Fawkes has handed over the G.E.C.K. they get ambushed on their way out. The Enclave seems determined to mess everything up.

A flashbang goes off behind them. When Charon can open his eyes he sees Enclave soldiers and the man who should be dead in the Jefferson Memorial rotunda with James surrounding Yasha, who is trying to get up but is far too disoriented to succeed.

The ringing in Charon’s ears subsides and he hears them talking about transporting Yasha somewhere. He can’t let that happen, can’t let them take him away, but his limbs aren’t cooperating. Too soon everything goes dark and there’s nothing he can do.

---

He wakes and his vision is blurry, too many bright fluorescent lights that cause his head to ache. He’s cold, oh god he’s so cold that his teeth are chattering. Where is he? The last thing he remembers is seeing the bomb go off, large mushroom cloud blooming from the earth. His head moves around wildly, looking for anything, but he can’t move well; he’s strapped down to a cold metal gurney.

He hears voices near him; they’re all calling out for help or for loved ones. As his vision clears he can see why. There’s at least two dozen, if not more, other people strapped down to a gurney like he is. He doesn’t know how long they’ve all been here, but soon enough one by one they’re carted off by people in what look like hazmat suits.

Everything after that passes by in a blur; running drills, combat practice, being forced into freezers with his fellow captives (at least five dropped dead from the cold), death matches in drained pools (it’s been days down in the makeshift fighting pits, how many people has he killed with his bare hands?), watching as everyone’s skin came off in patches or just outright died from radiation sickness (their numbers dropped drastically then), being shocked by cattle prods until blindly obeying became first nature to those who remained.

Only seven, himself included, survived.

How many years have gone by since the bomb dropped? Who was he before all of this? He can’t remember; they burned it out of him long ago. He has no name.

He’s told that the one who holds his contract is the one he must obey without question. There is no option but to accept. They’re auctioned off to the highest bidders; he’s won by a warlord of some kind. He never sees the ones he trained with again.

He kills many at the order of his first master. He stands on a field covered in fire and carrion, the sky is blood red over him as the sun sets, the screams of hundreds ricocheting around his skull. The hands of the dead reach up from the ground and drag him down under with them, where he belongs. He’s drowning, drowning, drowning…

Charon wakes to Fawkes shaking him and Dogmeat whining as she paws at him.

“We must go,” is all the super-mutant says.

---

Yasha comes to in a cell, or at least what he assumes to be a cell. He’s restrained to a chair and his knapsack is gone as well as his weapons. They’re probably still back in Vault 87. He’s not alone though. Standing in front of the only exit is the man who forcefully took Project Purity with Enclave soldiers.

“Let’s keep this nice and simple. You’re going to tell me the code for that Purifier, and you’re going to tell me now.” Yasha laughs. This asshole thinks that he’s going to tell him anything? Especially after being kidnapped and having no idea what happened to Charon or Dogmeat? No chance in hell.

“Fuck you.”

“You tell me that code or it’s going to cost you.”

“No, seriously. Fuck you.”

“Why do you insist on provoking me? Tell me the code now.”

Yasha spits in his face and the man rears back, ready to strike, when a voice on the intercom interrupts.

“Colonel… I have need of you,” comes over the intercom.

“Mr. President, I have no time for other matters. I’ll be with you shortly,” the Colonel answers. Huh, kidnapped by a president and a colonel; it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

“Now, Colonel.”

“Sounds like someone’s in trouble,” Yasha taunts as he lets out another boisterous laugh. The Colonel glares at him and Yasha gives him an innocent look.

“Yes, sir.” The Colonel leaves the cell.

At the Colonel’s departure, Yasha takes stock of himself; he’s missing his shoes and his vault suit’s sleeves are tied around his waist, an IV mark in the crook of his right elbow; at least he still has his white shirt on, though finding his shoes is going to be a pain. First thing’s first, he’s gotta find a way out of this cell. Then he can worry about finding his boots.

“Ah, alone at last,” the intercom voice says, startling Yasha out of his thoughts. “I do apologize for Colonel Autumn’s attitude. He’s been under a great deal of stress lately. I have no doubt that you know who I am. I’m sure you’ve heard my radio broadcasts.
I’d like to have a word with you, face-to-face. I think there are a few things you and I should discuss. You’ll find your possessions in the locker near the door. I’ll unlock the way for you. And I’ll unlock your restraints as well. I’ll be waiting for you in my office. Please don’t tarry.”

The restraints release with a click and Yasha bolts across the room to the locker. Throwing the locker door open, Yasha is disappointed when all that’s in there are his boots, a couple of stimpacks, and Charon’s combat knife. It’ll have to do.

His throat goes tight when he picks up the knife up; he hopes Charon is alive and okay, but since they got ambushed by Enclave (again) there’s the possibility that the ghoul may be dead. Yasha slaps himself as he feels tears start to build up. This is no time for that, he scolds himself. He could still be alive.

“Hard to believe you thought it would be a good idea to use only a knife against something at least twice your size,” Charon’s voice echoes in his head and oh man he’s really tearing up now. Roughly scrubbing at his eyes, Yasha ties his boots together and slings them over his shoulder; he doesn’t have anything but a knife so he has to be stealthy about this, bare feet will be quieter than boots. He really wishes he had some stealthboys though.

---

“-shoot on sight. I repeat, shoot on sight, this is an order!” Colonel Autumn’s voice booms over the intercoms. Man, this guy is not doing himself any favors; if Yasha can survive a large nest of mirelurks, a town of cannibals, and fire breathing giant ants then he can survive a facility of armored soldiers equipped with laser and plasma rifles. Maybe. Hopefully.

It’s good that Yasha is at least halfway decent fighting without guns; lucky for him that Butch always wanted to fight him as kids, he thinks. Not so lucky is the fact that his shirt and arms are covered in blood spatter which makes it kinda difficult to hold onto the knife. Yasha thinks maybe he should’ve put his boots on, if only to avoid the disgusting sensation of blood between his toes.

No time for maybes now though, he’s made it to the President’s office. Sighing in relief he climbs the multiple flights of stairs; how high up does this guy need to be anyway? At the top there’s no one there, except for computer screens and a potted plant.

Well that’s rude, Yasha thinks. You kidnap a guy and then have him run through a facility of hostile people to come meet you and then you don’t even show up.

“Ah, face-to-face at last. It’s high time we met.” Yasha looks around but there’s no one there, but then he notices one of the computer screens light up. “I am quite pleased you were able to make it. The trip was not what I had intended, but serves as an adequate test of your abilities.”

“If we’re meeting face-to-face, then show yourself. Don’t hide behind a monitor.”

“Ah, but I have! I am right here before you.”

“Well then, where are you? All I see is computers.”

“You should feel privileged. Colonel Autumn is the only other human permitted within this room. You are now privy to one of the few secrets our government now harbors. Do keep it to yourself, please.”

“Well this explains why I’ve only heard your voice until now.”

“Very astute! Many people are content with a reassuring voice of authority, and never question the lack of public appearances. You, however, are not “many people.” You are unique, and that is why I’ve asked you here. I think there are some things we should discuss.”

Yasha eyes the monitor warily. “I’m listening.”

“Our nation’s Capital is at a crossroads. The path that you and I choose here today will affect us all. I need you to act on my behalf, to ensure that our country’s future is secured.”

“Can you explain what you mean?” Yasha has had enough of old men, or in this case a computer, talking of securing futures as if they can force the world bend to their will.

“My abilities to influence the world are limited at this time. I alone can only do so much. You, however, may come and go as you please. You have a greater degree of freedom. Perhaps it is best if I explain why things need to change, and why I’d like you to act on my behalf.”

“Say whatever it is you have to say.” He is not interested in being anyone’s errand boy.

“Our land is ravaged by mutation. The war was so many years ago, and yet we still suffer from its effects. We cannot move forward until humanity can gain a solid foothold in the world. To do so, we must rid ourselves of the mutations that have plagued us for so long. These “Super Mutants,” Ghouls, hideous creatures… I believe your father’s work can do that in a way unlike any other.”

Yasha tenses up at that, his eyes going wide and dread crawls up his spine.

“I don’t like the sound of this,” he croaks out. Sure things would be better off if things like Deathclaws weren’t around, but to get rid of ghouls who weren’t feral? To get rid of Charon? Not. Happening.

“You must understand – we need to clear the way for humanity to rebuild the Wastes. By making a few small modifications to the purifier your father worked on, mutations can be eradicated with little effort. Anything mutated that comes into contact with that water will be eliminated, removed from the gene pool. The men and women of the world will no longer share it with the horrors and monstrosities that have become so commonplace.”

Yasha is repulsed by what this machine is proposing. It won’t take no for an answer though, insists that he take the FEV with him. He’ll take it but he’s not going to use it. But he also can’t leave knowing that this monstrous machine is still functioning.

---

Yasha stumbles out of the Raven Rock compound, head pounding and body sore, the place self-destructing behind him as he steps out into the sunlight. Everything spins, he’s not really used to extended periods underground and fluorescent lights anymore, and black spots pop up in his vision.

He stops in his tracks immediately when he sees who is outside.

Charon is there, fighting Enclave soldiers alongside Fawkes and Dogmeat; Yasha’s so relieved to see him still alive he can’t hold back his tears this time. Charon is alive and he came all the way out here; Yasha almost can’t believe it, thinks he’s hallucinating.

When the last soldier falls Yasha runs to him.

---

Charon hears Yasha’s approach before he sees him; the crunching of dead grass gives him away. Yasha barrels into him, nearly knocking them both over, throwing his arms around Charon’s neck. He’s so caught off guard that when the human kisses him he doesn’t respond immediately.

He feels Yasha about to pull away, so he cups the back of his head and keeps him close, returning the kiss with fervor. When they finally pull away for air, breathing hard and foreheads pressed together, Yasha laughs as he says, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Charon’s breath catches in his chest. He doesn’t remember the last time that happened, if ever.

---

Yasha sighs in relief when Fawkes hands him his knapsack. So the Enclave had left it behind in Vault 87. They probably didn’t take it with because they probably hadn’t intended for him to leave Raven Rock alive.

He grimaces as they leave Raven Rock; the sensation of dried blood flaking off of his feet and sticking to his socks isn’t pleasant. The walk to Megaton is a long one, though whenever his and Charon’s fingers brush he tangles them together briefly before letting go; his way of reassuring himself that the ghoul is alive and with him.

Fawkes tells them that he’ll be going to the D.C. ruins if they ever need anything as he parts ways with them.

---

They’re lying on Charon’s mattress, facing each other, back in Megaton. It’s late but they can’t seem to fall asleep, too busy being content in being close to each other. Yasha seems to enjoy tracing the various scars and cracks and pits on the skin of the arm Charon has curled around his waist.

“Is rotten skin really that interesting?”

“It looks like the craters in the moon. ‘s pretty,” Yasha mumbles.

---

Oasis is a strange place compared to the rest of the wasteland; it’s nothing but fertile soil and lush greenery. Seeing so much healthy plant life and hearing birds singing makes Charon’s head buzz with vertigo and for a moment he’s seeing the garden from his memories superimposed over Oasis and he has to blink hard. Yasha has been silent since they arrived, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide with awe.

That look of awe remains when they meet Harold and Bob.

---

“Did the world look like this, before the war?”

Yasha waits, head pillowed on Charon’s arm, for the ghoul to reply. He still can’t believe that a place like this exists. Oasis is beautiful, but all this green, all this life, puts him on edge because good things don’t always last long in the wasteland.

“Why are you asking me? You know more about before the war than I remember of it.” Yasha rolls his eyes at that answer.

“Because I want to hear about it from you. If you don’t mind, that is.”

He’s met with silence, and he’d worry that this is like that time back in the Meresti train tunnels, but Charon is drumming his fingers on Yasha’s side, so it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, he’s just thinking of what to say.

“Yeah, I think it did. But there weren’t any talking trees.”

---

Yasha learns that Charon prefers classical music when they give the Soil Stradivarius to Agatha. He makes sure to play Agatha’s station on his Pipboy when he can. He himself prefers listening to music by Marvin Gaye or The Crystals, but the way Charon’s entire being seems to relax to the sound of the violin’s strings is worth it.

At one point Charon gets so caught up in Agatha’s music that he pulls Yasha into a dance that he calls a Foxtrot.

“Something you remembered?” He asks the ghoul as they glide across the room in long, continuous flowing movements, the pace kept slow so Yasha can learn the steps.

“Yes. Something about crowded dancehalls and alcohol, I think,” Charon replies. “Every night when there was time to spare. The bartender knew me by name.”

“Do you remember your name?” Yasha asks him, one of his hands brushing the side of Charon’s face. Charon pauses for a moment, taking hold of Yasha’s fingers and pressing them to his lips briefly, before continuing their dance.

“No… I do not think I ever will at this point.”

Silence descends upon them, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Charon kisses him when the song ends and they return to what they were doing before.

---

Vault 106 is a god damned nightmare. Nothing seems to be too wrong when they first enter, except that Dogmeat refuses to go any further. That was the first red flag. They should have turned around right then and headed home, but Yasha pressed on. Dogmeat whines, but stays put, guarding the entrance.

The second red flag was the foul taste to the air which was immediately followed by the third red flag; crazed vault dwellers. Mad ravings and lead pipes smashing into the walls, originally aiming for flesh, are the only sound for a good few minutes. One look at Yasha’s face and Charon knows that he won’t turn back now. He grimaces because Yasha will try to help these people, but there’s something so wrong with this vault that there is no way to help them.

He does not always understand why Yasha insists on doing so, especially when it will only hurt the human when it inevitably backfires.

“Because we’re here and if we don’t try then who will? The vault failed to keep them safe.”

“The vaults were never meant to save anyone,” is all Charon offers.

---

The further they get into the vault the more rancid the air tastes; something is definitely wrong here. Charon notices that Yasha will occasionally stop and his eyes will glaze over for a moment or two before he snaps out of whatever daze he fell into. It’s starting to affect Charon too; he’ll see vague silhouettes of those he was trained with standing in doorways like ghosts, or think he hears the sound of cattle prods in use.

Something in the air is causing hallucinations.

Eventually they find the last survivor who is wielding a baseball bat and vanishes from sight. The survivor isn’t quiet at all so it isn’t hard to find them, but then the hallucinations really start to kick in. Yasha starts yelling at something that Charon can’t see, something called “Tunnel Snakes.” Charon sees something that causes chills to run up and down his spine.

The ones in hazmat suits – them – wielding cattle prods and hammers. They run at him and he freezes. They come closer and closer so he throws his arms up to lessen the damage from the hammers; there’s nothing he can really do about the cattle prods. There’s too many and it brings him back to day one in the drained pools turned fighting pits.

When the hammers come down he feels nothing, no pain. He remembers that these are hallucinations. Snapping out of it, Charon blinks hard a few times and the hazmat suits are gone. Instead, he sees the survivor was making use of a Stealthboy and swinging the bat at Yasha, who has yet to break out of his own hallucination.

His eyes catch on the slight shimmering effect of the stealth device and he takes aim. When the enemy is about to strike again Charon shoots the side of their chest.

---

When they come topside from Vault 106, Dogmeat is ecstatic to see them again. Yasha swears to never enter another vault ever again. Of course a week later they end up going into Vault 108 and dealing with the Gary clones.

---

The day finally comes when they have to return to the Citadel. As he’s deciding what to take with in his knapsack, he finds it. Charon’s contract at the bottom of his bag tucked underneath the Princess Bride.

Yasha pulls out both items and studies them. He has been meaning to give the contract to Charon for a long time now, but had never really had the chance to. His jaw sets in determination; after they finish the business with the purifier he’ll make time for it, it is too important not to. Yasha tucks the contract into the book, making sure that the top of it is peeking out, and places it at the top, so that he can get to it whenever he wants to.

They head out for the Citadel and arrive just after dark. Elder and Sentinel Lyons greet them at the gates, giving them a quick rundown of tomorrow’s plan. Yasha and Charon curl up on the bed provided for them, Dogmeat on the floor next to them.

---

He wakes and finds himself standing in waist high dark water and there’s fog dancing on the surface; there are black roses floating around him on the water.

They symbolize death.

This is different from his previous dreams because this isn’t based on his damaged memories. He knows because the woman standing in front of him doesn’t even feel vaguely familiar. Her skin is dark and her hair black, but her eyes, yes those eyes he has seen before, but where? She smiles kindly at him.

“Who are you?”

“You should be able to tell by my eyes.” He looks closer, looks longer, and it hits him; those are Yasha’s eyes. As soon as the realization dawns on him the water begins to bubble. Looking down into the dark water he sees Yasha, eyes closed as his body slowly floats to the surface. Catherine reaches out and brushes his white forelock away from his face.

“If you’re not careful, the waters of life will kill him just like it killed his father,” she says, stroking Yasha’s wet hair. His eyes move from Yasha’s face to hers. Catherine looks at him imploringly. “Please don’t let my baby die. I lost him once and I don’t want to lose him again, not like this.”

He swallows thickly at that; he doesn’t want to lose Yasha either. Not now, not ever. Catherine is silent for a few moments before she speaks again, looking him straight in the eye.

“When the time comes - when he gives you the book - you’ll know. He’ll have resigned himself to activate the purifier, but don’t let him. I don’t care what you have to do but don’t let him. He’s my son, my only child, and I never wanted this life for him.” The look she gives him is more sincere than anything James had ever said or done in regards to Yasha. “Just keep him safe, keep him alive.”

Charon wakes before he can answer. He looks down at his chest where Yasha is still sleeping soundly, head resting above Charon’s heart. Reaching out carefully with a trembling hand he presses two fingers lightly to the side of Yasha’s neck, checking for a pulse; he sags in relief when he finds it.

---

Dr. Li tells them over the intercom that the purifier will self-destruct if they don’t start it soon, but whoever activates it will die. Yasha’s heartbeat kicks up a notch and there’s a lump in his throat. He doesn’t want to die but he will do it.

Wasting no time at all he swings his knapsack off of his back and retrieves The Princess Bride; it’s now or never to give Charon his contract. When he hands it over, Charon has this strange look on his face, but there is no time. Yasha presses a quick kiss to the ghoul’s cheek as he opens the book and sees what’s inside.

“I love you,” he whispers, throat tight and tears threatening to spill over, before heading towards the control room for the purifier. There’s a shout and he hears Charon running towards him, so he runs up the stairs, sealing the outer blast door shut behind him.

“I am Alpha and Omega,” Yasha recites as he approaches the control panel. He briefly wonders if his dad had planned it this way all along. Probably not. “The beginning and the end.”

He turns to see Charon banging his fists on the thick glass and yelling, Sentinel Lyons looking panicked and cursing under her breath, and Dogmeat yowling and barking. He begins typing in the code. It isn’t difficult, he’s known it all his life.

“I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life,” Yasha continues, hits enter, and feels the radiation pouring into him. It’s so warm and he thinks his skin might be glowing, “Freely. Revelation 21:6.”

Yasha falls to his knees, his descent continuing until his head hits the floor. Everything goes dark.

---

“We’re lucky that we were able to get him out of there as soon as we did,” Sarah Lyons says. She and Charon are sitting on opposite sides of Yasha’s bed. Charon says nothing, just continues to hold onto Yasha’s hand like both of their lives depend on it. “He’ll wake up. I know he will.”

Charon looks at Yasha, then at the contract – his contract – he holds in his other hand. He doesn’t know what to do with it now; he wants to destroy it, but can’t bring himself to do so, not yet at least. He tucks it away into his pocket.

“I know.” It is the first thing Charon has said in hours. The room is quiet, until Charon takes out the Princess Bride from his pack and begins to read aloud, one hand still holding onto Yasha's like a lifeline. Lyons seems to be interested in the story, probably as a way to take her mind off the possibility that Yasha might not wake up.

Within the hour his reading aloud has drawn a crowd to Yasha’s medical room. His throat is sore, mostly from yelling at the reckless idiot, but he continues. It goes on like this for days, Charon reading to the still sleeping Yasha and the crowd of Brotherhood that flocks to the room.

It has been almost been two weeks and he hasn’t slept at all, so of course he drifts off to sleep in the early hours of morning as he was reading the best part, where Inigo gets his revenge.

---

He wakes in the flower garden, but instead of being surrounded by flowers that represent forgotten or misremembered grief and regret, there’s nothing but bellflowers, red roses, ambrosia, rainflowers, and blue roses. This time though, he’s at peace with what he’s forgotten; he knows he’ll never fully remember all of it, not after all this time.

The birdsong and warm summer heat nearly lulls him to sleep, when the feeling of something missing creeps up on him.

Looking to his right, he sees the severed hand, still laying on the ground where it’s always been for the past 200 years. When he touches the hand though, he realizes it’s not a severed hand at all, but that it belongs to someone. Someone with a white forelock, warm brown eyes, and the most beautiful, crooked smile he remembers ever seeing. It’s Yasha.

It has always been Yasha.

Charon wakes as someone weakly squeezes his hand.

---

His head snaps up from where it had slumped against his chest and there was Yasha, eyes barely open and grinning wide. Charon can hear the blood rushing in his ears and he stands, leans over Yasha, and pulls the damn fool into a kiss.

“Stay with me?” Yasha croaks out, a hand resting at the back of Charon’s head. Charon climbs into the bed next to him, pulling Yasha halfway onto him so that his head rests over Charon’s heart.

“As you wish.”