A/N: Hello, everyone! So, I've been playing some Fallout 3 recently and I absolutely fell in love with Charon. As in, Charon is mah boi. I have adopted him and God help anyone who hurts him (in-game, that is). I started really contemplating him as a character though, how he must have viewed the Lone Wanderer when they showed up in Underworld, when they bought his contract, like I did. What did he think of that? How did he feel about it? He must've thought he was just swapping hands to another employer as bad as the last one. But then, throughout the game, he's always cautioning the player, warning them to be careful, so I tend to think that, whatever he thought at first, he ended up warming up to the player a bit.

I know I've taken plenty of bullets for him lol.

I have no idea how long this fic will be, or how often I'll get to update it. To anyone still waiting on updates for my Supernatural and Assassin's creed fics, they are coming. No story has been abandoned. My life has just been... well, rough to put it simply. I'll explain later, I promise. But Fallout 3 got my writing juices flowing again, so I'm gonna crank that creative faucet as wide open as I can so I can get back to all of my other plots.

Also, this part is written in first-person, but the rest of it probably won't be. I just wanted to play with Charon's (potential) perspective for a moment. I'm also not one for profanity in my fics, but there ended up being a word in this bit. I might come back and edit it out. I rated it M just to be safe because the game itself is M. Never hurts to be cautious.

My OC is female, based on my actual character in Fallout 3.

A/N: Rating dropped to T because so far, it's not any worse than my usual stuff. If I end up having to raise it to M later, then I will.

2,000 caps.

That's the price Ahzrukhal gives this girl, this Vault Dweller that's barely bigger than a mole rat. An insane price because I'm too useful for him to let go.

And she hands them over—2,000 caps—as easy as breathing.

Ahzrukhal hands her my contract because even he's bound by deals he makes. To an extent, anyway.

I hate her.

She walks right up to me like she doesn't know Smoothskins are supposed to fear Ghouls, or at least find them repulsive. "I have good news; I'm your new employer," she says and her voice is firm, but soft, a tone I've never heard before.

At first, all I can think about is that she doesn't even stand as tall as my shoulder. Barely above my elbow.

"You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal? So, I am no longer in his service," I say almost to myself and an odd sensation runs through my ghoul-blood, a comforting chill. "That is good to know…"

She wants to leave.

"l must take care of something," I tell her and walk to the bar. Ahzrukhal smirks at me and asks if I've come to say goodbye. I've done a lot of killing in my lifetime, but the blast from my shotgun never felt this good before and blood splattering on the walls never looked so satisfying.

I pump another round into his corpse, just because I can.

"What was that?!" she demands and her previously even voice hitches like a frightened child. Good. Maybe now she'll realize how she's supposed to feel about us.

I face her. "He was an evil bastard." Anger burns my throat. "As long as he held my contract, I was honor-bound to do as he commanded. But now you're my employer, which freed me to rid the world of that disgusting rat. Now, for good or ill, I serve you."

She stares at me for a moment, then at the blood on the wall. I expect a harsh reprimand, maybe even a bullet. After all, I saw her trading goods with Ahzrukhal. People are funny about business partners. She also looks a little paler than when she first arrived. What? Can't handle the sight of blood?

She just gives me a slow nod. "Alright then. Let's go," she says calmly, looking me in the eye.

She always looks me in the eye.

I follow her out of Underworld, to the outside. The morning sun has always been my favorite. It's not as harsh as the rest of the daylight.

"Here," she says, holding a handful of stimpacks out to me. "Just in case." She smiles a little. "I'm Blake, by the way," she says, like we're friends.

"You already know my name," I tell her, hoping the conversation ends there.

"I do," she nods, smiling again. Why is she smiling? "It's nice to meet you, Charon."

I have nothing to say to that.

She rolls her shoulder and checks the ammo in her own shotgun. A combat rig similar to mine. I've seen so many people underestimate the power behind these weapons and I can't wait to see her try to use that massive thing. But, something about the way she holds herself makes me reconsider a small part of my opinion of her. She's small, and it's obvious she's nervous by the way her eyes dart around, looking for danger.

I wonder how much time she's actually spent out here. She smells like the Wastes.

"Let's go," she says with a small sigh and heads to the street.

I follow and that odd sensation returns. I find myself noticing more. Not that I was ever unobservant in the Wastes, but… small things are standing out to me now. Like, how warm the sun actually is, and how the sound of dripping water makes me feel cooler.

I think I have a name for this strange sensation I'm feeling.

Relief.

I'm not good at naming things, though.