The dangerously loud screech of the metal beneath him caused Charon to pause in his movements until it quieted. Hesitantly, his eyes moved to the woman ahead of him, who strode fearlessly across the corrugated tin; ignoring the metal that screeched with each of her steps.

Rolling his eyes with frustration, Charon sighed and heaved his weight up off the ladder built into the wall underneath him and onto his elbows as he climbed onto the roof. He placed a steady hand on the metal to balance himself and tried to push away the concerns that rose inside him as the aged and weather worn metal roof of the VAPL-58 Power Station creaked under his weight.

Standing to his feet with only a moment's uncertainty, he used his boot clad foot to knock closed the hatch before taking careful steps across the tin towards Sara. Charon's curiosity peaked as he surveyed the scene laid before him; two pre-war roller chairs placed on top of an old and certainly worn out shag carpet in front of a barbeque grill. Three empty glass beer bottles were scattered beside the chair and a hunting rifle was discarded across the carpet.

The woman, often referred to as The Lone Wanderer by the illustrious host of GNR, reclined lazily onto the dirty leather of one chair, which sat perched atop the roof and looking out towards the setting sun.

"Whoever made this little camp," Sara sighed with relief, intertwining her fingers behind her head and relaxing in the chair, "Really knows how to relax."

Charon didn't reply and focused his attention on each individual step as he carefully walked towards her; cringing internally at each shriek of the metal under his feet. Finally making his way to her point, he took comfort as the creaking lessened as his feet stepped onto the carpeting.

He let the thick strap of the encumbered pack slip from his shoulder and rest next to the empty chair as he stepped around the old and neglected seat and cautiously lowered himself onto its possibly weak structure. Careful to test its integrity before placing his full weight on it, Charon managed to lean back in the chair without incident and looked curiously to the rifle lying discarded beside his chair. Reaching down and lifting the gun from the shag carpeting, his skilled hands moved over the weapon and attempted to action it, but found it to be mangled and firmly secured in place.

Deciding it to be a loss, he tossed it indifferently from the edge of the roof. The dull sound of it landing in the dirt below went unnoticed as Charon ignored the containers of BB rounds beside him and reclined his wary and wounded self back in the chair. He shifted uncomfortably as the metal that tore through the aged cushion dug lightly into his back and cringed at the dull pain until he managed to position himself in-between the metal shards.

Just as his tense muscles began to loosen and ease from their attentive state, his deformed ears picked up the sound of Sara groaning quietly at his side. He glanced to see her face contorted in displeasure - wincing as her tentive hand moved to the side of her abdomen.

"Hey, could you toss me a Stimpak?" She asked, her voice sounding slightly pained. "One of those mercs caught me."

"How bad?" Charon asked, out of almost obligation, as he leaned over the arm of his chair and hooked his hand under the strap of their bag. "Where did it hit?"

"It just skimmed me, but it's starting to bleed through my armor." She explained, rolling up the sleeve of her armor to reveal her paler skin, protected under the worn leather. "And it'd be just like this shitty leather to stain." She added with a hint of distaste to her voice.

Dropping the bag into his lap, Charon fished out the white med-kit from the clutter of objects discarded within and topped open the lid. Resting on top of the pile of various medical items, sat only three frighteningly large Stimpaks - the metal of the needles seeming to shine only slightly duller than what would be comforting, and the tubes filled with the healing chemicals only seemed slightly darkened from age.

The disinfectant in the Stimpak itself would likely ward off any infections, but it was the number of Stimpaks remaining that concerned Charon. He grimaced, but lifted one out.

"It'll have to tide you over for now." He insisted as he handed it to her, "We don't have many left."

"What? I just bought a shit-load from Moira!" Sara argued, her voice rising from either frustration or unbelief. "And we got a couple from Fort Bannister!"

"We used our stockpile to survive Fort Bannister." Charon reasoned, "And the ones we scavenged are the ones we have now."

"Oh… well," She paused, looking down at the Stimpak in her hand thoughtfully, before shrugging, "Then that means no freebees, Charon. Hero-time is postponed until we get some more."

"Of course." Charon relented, fighting down the half smile that threatened to form on his lips.

He closed the Med-kit, returning it to its uncoordinated spot in the pack before letting the bag rest down next to his chair. Leaning back once again into the aged leather of the decrepit seat, he let a relieved sigh escape his lips as each of his muscles achingly unwound.

There he sat in silence, watching the auburn sun drift gently down from the sky; paying only half attention to Sara as she injected the long needle of the Stimpak into the pliable flesh of her arm. Finishing her task, she tossed the syringe off the edge of the roof and mirrored his pose; resting back in her chair and gazing into the sun.

A moment of peace passed as they stared off into the distance, before Charon's attention was caught as he noticed Sara moving beside him. Glancing from the corner of his eyes, he saw her blink hard and shake her head violently, before she waited for a moment only to again shake her head.

"Something wrong?" Charon asked finally.

"It's just-" She paused to press her finger to her ear, "It's just that my ears are still ringing. It's been about a half an hour, they shouldn't still be ringing, right?"

"The grenade landed nearly ten feet from you;" Charon explained, "You should count yourself lucky that a slight damage to your hearing is all the damage you received."

"Ugh." She groaned as she pressed her finger to her ear, "For all the Jet those mercs shoot, why are they such good aims?"

"Jet intensifies the senses, making the mercs more skilled than normal."

"That's not fair." She tossed her head from side to side, causing the loose strands from her lazy bun to fly with her movements. "Maybe I should do it?"

"Not the best idea. It also causes serious rage, memory loss and turns your brain to mush after too many uses."

"Pfft, I have that now." She scoffed. Blinking hard again, she seemed to give up hope and leaned back in her chair, growling angrily to herself. "Although, if I'm going to have those kinds of side effects, maybe I should just stick with alcohol - tastes better."

Charon shrugged.

Sara's eyes suddenly flashed with panic and she leapt up from her chair, "Oh shit!" She thrust her hand into her side pocket and pulled out an old and rather severely scratched pair of sunglasses. She raised them against the sun and examined them closely, "Oh thank God. I thought I crushed them for a second there." Sighing with relief, she narrowed her eyes and smoothly slipped them onto her face.

Charon had to restrain himself from scoffing as she rested back into her chair assertively, reclining in the elderly seat and propping her feet up against the barbeque. She threw back her shoulders as she flipped up the collar of her dirty and worn leather armor, and Charon turned his gaze away as he rolled his eyes. With his gaze averted, he didn't see her smirk as she caught sight of his grin.

Silence returned once again as Sara relaxed in her chair, now observing the setting sun from behind the tint of her sunglasses. But the peace was short lived as Sara heaved a deep, melodramatic and utterly irritated sigh. Charon wasn't sure if he should ask or just ignore it.

Sara was quiet for a moment, but faintly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she cast him a faint glance, seeming almost disappointed and expectant of him to be curious.

Alright, he'd bite. "What's wrong?"

"I just realized how freaking long it is to Vault 101." She stated plainly, a hint of irritation not escaping her tone.

Charon paused in his response, puzzled. He didn't entirely understand what she meant; although he had a sneaking suspicious it would be strenuous. "And that is relevant because…?"

"Well, I was thinking that we should probably go get Dogmeat before we head north. I mean, if we're going to go scavenging, it'd be good to have the little guy pack some of the stuff. And… well…" She inclined her head thoughtfully, "I can just see his sad little puppy dog eyes - all gloomy and neglected and stuff."

Yes, they had sent the dog back once the battle at Fort Bannister became too hazardous, Charon reminded himself. Mid battle, the dog was becoming more of a target than an asset, and was in too much danger, so Sara ordered him to leave. The dog obediently left, returning to the spot he had been trained to go; Vault 101.

Charon nearly scoffed at the idea as his side, suffering a fairly shallow laceration, throbbed again. If only he had such luxuries. To simply escape to a secure and protected Vault and not worry about the bullets that were flying over his head. To be retrieved when his company was missed and taken on trips were he was always fed and petted when asked.

If only such luxuries were granted to an indentured bodyguard - slave with a gun, in other words.

If only he even had the luxuries granted to a stupid dog.

Charon shook away the thoughts, jolting away from the sickening thought of self pity. He was a bodyguard; his sole purpose was to protect the woman beside him at all cost. He should count himself lucky that he didn't feel the undying urge to send a shotgun round into her skull. It was an upgrade from his last owner.

He was honor bound to protect. Nothing else.

He should be grateful.

"Alright." Charon replied flatly.

"So anyways, it's a long trip." Sara moved her gaze north, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sharp sunlight that blasted her. She moaned, "Agh, so many miles. So, from here, it's going to be like... what? A day?"

Charon paused, his mind whirling for an answer as he judged the distance and back-tracked their progress, "Depends on how much trouble we encounter. If we stumble upon raiders or go gallivanting; a day." Charon spoke with an undercurrent of annoyance, knowing that Sara wouldn't be able to resist a locked box if she found one. "Otherwise; a few hours."

Sara didn't miss the tone of his voice, "You don't have to be such a sourpuss. If I don't go exploring, where do you think I'd find all of these cool guns and all my ammo?"

"A day it is." Charon added plainly.

A slight smile began on her lips as Sara nodded absentmindedly.

Finally, the dull orange sun had all but gone from the tainted sky, and Charon stood from his chair, "I'll make camp."

He lifted the pack from its spot beside his chair and stepped carefully from the tattered shag carpet; prepared to make a fire. The VAPL-58 Power Station offered a vantage point as well as protection from any insects that could be troublesome during the hours of darkness. A good camping ground for the night.

Sara shifted her eyes forward again, "So, let's move out tomorrow."

The powerful recoil of Charon's shotgun absorbed into his arm while fire burst forth from the barrel as the round was sent loose, connecting skillfully with the chest of the man ahead of him. The strangely fashioned man wore no chest protection besides the black strap which held his single shoulder pad in place; allowing the shrapnel encased in the shotgun round to dig through his flesh and rip him to pieces.

A slight swell of satisfaction rose in Charon's chest as the man fell lifeless and bloodied to the ground, but pride was swiftly disregarded as the sharp sound of a pistol round flying past his head captivated his attention. Instinctively, he ducked away and sent another shot off in the general direction of the attackers.

His concentration shifted from the beat of battle to keen attentiveness as Sara's voice shouted to him, "Move to cover!"

Acting readily, he turned on his heel to retreat from the open space. His eyes trained in on Sara, who sat shielded behind a car and peaking over to level the sights of her Chinese Assault Rifle with the raiders; firing a few rounds which hopefully made contact before ducking back down.

"Go for shelter, I'll cover you." She commanded over the booming sound of gunfire.

The simple and practiced tactic threw itself to the forefront of his mind. She would provide cover fire while he ran to a safe position, then he would provide the same cover while she ran for a position beyond him, until they had both gained a safe distance. A tactic they had used often. Simple.

Taking in the area ahead of him, his eyes locked with a large piece of rubble in the distance that he was sure he could reach in time. He took off like a shot.

His feet moved fairly quickly over the uneven ground in his aged and torn boots. His ears pounding with the rhythm of the firefight as he pushed down the anticipation of a bullet sinking into his back. He dodged around roadblocks and stay objects, but as he moved past Sara's position beside the car, a flicker of something caught his eye. Sudden realization flashed in his mind and forced him to skid to a halt. His entire focus centering in on the dull flicker of a flame that rose up from the hood of the charred car Sara sat shielded behind.

It was about to explode.

Abandoning all his previous motives, he turned sharp on his heel and scrambled towards Sara; loose gravel flying from underneath his feet and disturbing his traction. His attention focused partly on his own safety and mostly on Sara's position and state, Charon's hand easily found its mark as it darted out and gripped harshly around the pliable skin of Sara's arm, encased in thick leather.

He wasted no time or courtesy as his motivation focused in on getting them to safety. His callous grip tightened around her arm as he heaved her away from the car and uncaringly into the open space; pushing down the knowledge that they were suddenly vulnerable to the onslaught of the raiders. His pace rose rapidly to a sprint as he urgently darted away from the fuming car; roughly pulling Sara along with him as he moved for a nearby cover.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sara demanded incredulously.

Charon offered no explanation, but only shoved her ahead of him as they rounded the corner of a partly fallen building and ducked away from the shots that followed after them.

Sara turned on him in confusion, "What the-"

A sudden and ear shattering explosion erupted in the near distance, shaking the ground underneath them and sending a painful throb into their chests from the aftershock. The air tinted a dull orange as the fire from the blast rose up into the air and the building behind them faintly trembled; silencing her words as they ducked against the wall to shield themselves from the shrapnel that flew in every direction.

The radiation warning on Sara's Pip-boy beeped furiously, nearly drown out by the ring of the blast.

Sara braved a glance up; her eyes meeting Charon's. "Well, fuck." Sara commented, seeming befuddled.

The abrupt crack of a gunshot resonated sharply into the air, echoing across the open space before being overwhelmed by another shot as the raiders resumed their assault.

The gunfire silencing any further words about to be spoken, survival engaged and the beat of battle recommencing.

"Damn it!" Sara cursed as she pressed her back against the concrete remains of a barely standing building.

Her hands moved rapidly over her Chinese Assault Rifle and her fingers worked on the small, custom pieces as she swiftly reloaded the gun. Her keen eyes glanced fleetingly to her side to find Charon pressed firmly beside her, cautiously looking around the corner for sight of the danger. Trusting that he was keeping an eye on the enemy and that nothing would round the corner to find her unprepared, she focused entirely on reloading as fast as she could.

"This ambush has sent us far off course." Charon acknowledged. Blinking against the harsh sun shining high above them, Charon peeked around the corner.

"Fuck the course, the raiders are trying to send my head off my shoulders!" She finished loading the clip and attempted to action the rifle, but it clicked dully and stuck as it jammed. She actioned it a few times experimentally before it slid smoothly. Sighing, she asked, "Shit. How many?"

Noting faintly how Sara's language intensified in battle, Charon glanced carefully around the corner to survey the area. His eyes carefully sought out any small movements, but sudden gunshots made him retract his head quickly. Turning his face away from the corner to shield from the concrete that splintered into his eyes, he paused until the fire quieted.

"I counted seven. There could be more."

"Why the fuck are seven raiders out here?"

"Don't know. Raiding caravans maybe."

"Shit, we can't take that many at once. Not when we have no fucking Stimpaks." Sara sighed, cursing under her breath and raising her Pip-boy up to her sight. "Cover us; I'll check my map to see if there are any routes out of here."

Nodding, Charon accepted her command and wheeled around the corner, bring his shotgun expertly up to his shoulder and firing at any movement; the sharp cracks of his shots drowning out the sounds of her Pip-boy's beeping.

When bullets whizzed close enough past his head that he became securely concerned, Charon returned his body safely to the cover, glancing to Sara who fervently scrolled through her Pip-boy.

"We need to move."

"I know, I know. Um…" She paused, studying the map attentively, "Okay, okay, there's a Metro Station just over there." She stated, her gaze darting up as she pointed towards a building not far away.

"Alright, let's go." Charon insisted, pausing to listen for the positions of the raiders and waiting until Sara took off in a dead run before following.

They moved quick and determined, trying to ignore the bullets that pinged off the objects beside them and focus on the metal door leading into the Metro Station ahead of them. Sara moved quickly and nimbly, forcing Charon to center most his attention on staying aligned with her movements as he lagged behind to shield her body with his own to intercept any bullets that attempt to pierce her form.

This task made more difficult when the weight of their extra equipment secured on Charon's back was put into factor. He forced down the rapid beating of his heart as frustration pounded in his mind at her erratic movements, but deeply driven knowledge reminded him of his duty as a bodyguard to protect her at all costs.

They closed the distance between them and the Metro Station entrance in seconds. Sara slammed into the metal door at full speed, grunting as the breath was forced from her lungs as the door nearly refused to budge. But the door buckled against the stress of her weight and swung open wide; momentum driving it to crash hard into the inside wall and quiver on its ancient hinges.

Charon followed her into the darkness of the Metro Station, his hand darting out and grabbing the door vibrating in his grasp and slamming it shut.

The Station was suddenly plunged into darkness as the door blocked out the last of the light. Charon's eyes swam to grasp the vastness of the black as they tried to adjust, but before it could be achieved, they suddenly recoiled as a bright ray of light met them. He raised his arm instinctively to shield his eyes away from the radiance, but braved an alarmed glance from fear it was another danger.

"Hey, over here!" Sara's voice pierced the darkness and echoed sharply into the Station. Her voice sounding controlled to a quiet tone although it threatened to rise with the beat of her heart.

Charon's eye ached as they focused on the source of light, finding it to be originating from Sara, and logic leading him to believe it was her Pip-boy flashlight. He blinked again and his eyes focused achingly to see Sara pressed tight against the side of the old, but surviving Nuka-Cola machine as she heaved her weight against it, grunting with each push she made.

She was trying to tip it, knocking it down into the path of the doorway and making it impossible for anyone to enter in.

Good plan.

Before Charon could move to help her, she stopped in her efforts and staggered backward from the machine, her chest heaving with effort.

"Well, there goes that idea." She waved Charon towards the machine, "You try it, muscles."

He readily sprinted to the machine, positioning himself beside it and rocking his weight through his shoulders against it. The old dispenser seemed to be rotted in place after the three centuries it had been neglected, but Charon managed to get some leverage on it and slowly it tipped to the side.

Gravity assisted in the last push and the Nuka-Cola machine fell in front of the door. The concrete of the Metro Tunnels intensified the crash as it slammed into the floor, making the sound nearly deafening. A cloud of dust arose from the decrepit machine and dirty concrete floor as pieces of the plastic shell of the dispenser fractured and fell away, leaving the metal base intact and fulfilling it's role in blocking the door.

Sara coughed as the dirt filled her lungs and she waved her hand in front of her in hopes of diverting the dust. Blinking away the filth, she looked to see the machine successfully blocking the entrance.

A smug smile played on her lips, "Breach that, bitches."

Laughing quietly to herself, she turned on her heel to survey the area behind her. Letting her eyes take in the vastness of the darkened subway tunnels of the Metro Station, she half expected a herd of mole-rats to charge forth from the shadows, but found the place to be peaceful besides the echo of their own footsteps.

Raising her wrist to her eyes, she pressed the small orange button of her Pip-Boy and activated the backlight before pressing another series of buttons to bring her to her map. Charon's mutated face immune to the irradiated dirt and dust; he stepped behind Sara silently and glanced to her map over her shoulder.

His eyes interpreting their location quickly and, studying the routes the Pip-Boy advised them, Charon sighed. "Those raiders cost us a good hour. Now we have to take a longer way."

Sara flinched only slightly as his deep voice met so closely to her ears. "Fuckers." She declared indignantly as she deactivated the backlight. Letting her arm fall to her side, she gazed out into the dim tunnels. "Well," She shrugged, extending her hand in a dramatic wave and exclaiming into the tunnels, "Onto the trail we blaze!"

Charon smirked as she trailed determinedly into the subway tunnels and he followed behind her.

He couldn't deny it; she was amusing. Certainly better than some people that had owned him.

"…but I just couldn't think fast enough, so the asshole managed to shoot me. Luckily, I had enough Med-X to drop even Fawks, so it didn't scar or anything, but it still hurt." Sara insisted, "But if I had just had a few more minutes, I could have gotten him." She shrugged, "I blame it on those Vault schools."

Sara's Pip-boy informed them the tunnels they were traveling through were that of the Jury Street Metro Station, and they were surprisingly empty. Sara's voice echoed duller into the confines of the Metro Tunnels the deeper they went, making stealth more attainable, but besides a radroach or two they had encountered, surprisingly, there wasn't much danger. Although habit made them step casually along the metal rails of the subway tracks, finding there to be less risk of tripping any traps that may line the tunnels.

"Oh, check it out." Sara paused in her story as her eyes caught something of interest.

The tone of her voice telling Charon that it wasn't danger that peaked her interest, he simply stopped in his pace as she stepped towards the grime stained wall. Lying discarded beside the tracks of the subway sat a small wooden crate with various Nuka Cola glass bottles strewn beside it, most of them showing transparent and empty. Sara reached down and plucked one from the ground which still showed full with its caramel colored soda; rubbing off the grime coating it on her leather armor as she stepped back to her spot near Charon on the tracks.

Sara struggled with popping off the cap for only a moment before it came loose. Carbonation not outlasting a nuclear war, the old soft drink no longer fizzed, but Sara still lifted the glass to her lips uncaringly as she placed the cap in her side pocket.

She drank it fairly quickly, offering it to Charon once, but continued to savor the sweet liquid that satisfied her dull hunger when he turned it down. With the soda bottle empty, she tossed it to the side and watched it break against the thick concrete wall indifferently.

As they continued on, Charon expected her to start once again with her story, but she remained silent.

Charon glanced to her suspiciously. She wasn't often quiet. She looked absently to the side, seeming to examine the structure of the Metro tunnels with half interest, as though trying to distract herself.

"I thought the Vault had helped improve your thinking capacity?" Charon asked.

Her green eyes glanced to him, flashing with slight surprise, before the faintest of smiles formed on her lips. Looking forward again to avoid losing her step, she shrugged, "Yeah, well, books can only teach you so much. If they had had a 'how to deactivate a bomb 101', it could have made my life easier. Had to learn that the hard way."

Charon nodded understandingly as Sara continued; anything but silence was music to his ears. Their footsteps echoing into the tunnels was the only other sound bedsides her voice as they walked; keeping their ears faintly attuned for the cry of a molerat or possibly a ghoul.

"And then Butch, oh, he had no idea. It was like the best moment ever when I saw the look on his face…" She continued with her story as they walked, seeming pleased to have someone to listen.

Seeming pleased to have him listen.

Charon expression fell as he furrowed his deformed eyebrows curiously at the thought.

Did she care if he listened? Did it matter whether it was him or did she just like having a person to talk to at all?

Was it him that had any particular value? As a companion perhaps?

A companion?

There was a thought that plagued him often.

She was so much different than that bastard that owned him before. That being said, he found it difficult to read her. She at least had the decency to be civil to him - a benefit he supposed he should be thankful for. He was nothing but a bodyguard to her, he understood that. Anything besides not threatening him was a bonus, so he should consider himself lucky that she was kind and warm around him.

But that was just it. He was just a bodyguard, but she was still nice to him. She would talk to him as a person and not like an owner speaking to a dog; which was more than he was entitled to as her contract bound bodyguard.

It made her difficult to figure out.

She was a good person, he decided. And being her bodyguard wasn't bad, seeing how he wouldn't mind sticking his neck out for her. A glimmer of humanity she showed him gave him more honest motivation to protect her, however small, than before.

She was nice to him. And strangely enough, the more attention Charon paid, the more he realized she responded to his opinion. She seemed pretty satisfied when he showed any support, or especially encouraged her to talk.

It was a strange thing to him.

Maybe he actually did mean something to her? More than a bodyguard?

Could he ever hope to be viewed as an equal to anyone in the world?

Could her kindness be sincere?

Didn't she show a similar form of kindness to Moira, the person who had shown her honest hospitality since the moment she left the Vault? To Fawks, the mutant who praised her moral code and who protected her with his hulking form? That had to mean something. Or to even Moriarty, who had pointed her in the direction of her father, but nearly at the cost of her life? To-

Wait…

That was it. Kindness. Civility. It was courtesy which she seemed to extend to everyone. Even those she seemed to loath.

Even those she despised.

Despite the hope which had begun to bud inside him, that doubt - that hint of possible truth - extinguished any flicker of optimism.

Could he be seen as the same level as Moriarty? Could she just be humoring him? Extending a hint of human decency simply because she felt obligated?

A disheartening thought arose.

Would that mean he meant less than Dogmeat?

Simple dog?

It made sense. He was mutated. Deformed. Hideous. Human or not, he was often viewed as a monster - as most ghouls were. A dog stayed the same, still considered man's best friend.

Add slavery onto a ghoul's resume and he's left even lower on the level of importance.

He glanced to Sara at his side.

Would she even trek across the Wasteland to retrieve him?

Probably not. Because he was a bodyguard. A ghoul. A slave. Nothing more. His life was only of value because it could be given in place of hers.

That's what he was. He couldn't blame her for that.

He brought his focus back to the trail ahead of him, hardening into his customary stoic stature.

She's civil to him.

That's all he should hope for.

Charon thrust his shoulder into the stiff metal of the old, decrepit, door leading from the Metro Station. The aged but sturdy frame held firmly in place, meant to offer security in its prime, but only providing trouble after years of being forgotten. Charon heaved his armor plated shoulder into the door again, forcing it to screech and complain from the strain to its position, before finally giving away and swinging open; letting a cloud of dust and a flood of blinding light infiltrate the small room.

He shielded his eyes away from the sun that assaulted him, his mutated iris' a bit too accustom to the darkness in the time they spent traveling through the Metro Station. Sara coughed in the light dust, placing a hand over her nose and mouth to help filter the air, while his lungs ignored the pollution that he had grown accustom, if not immune to.

Charon took the first step out of the Metro Station, his eyes taking in the surroundings and glancing up the tall stairway that led to ground level. He found the immediate area free of enemies or danger and stopped to wait for Sara's lead. Sara stepped out behind him, bringing up her Pipboy and searching through its contents as it announced its activity with quiet, but high toned beeps.

"Okay, Vault 101 shouldn't be too far from here. We could totally make it by nightfall, right? Then we'd just bop over to Megaton and take the week off. Sound good?"

Charon nodded curtly as his eyes surveyed the area in a quick glance again; wondering curiously why she bothered to ask him instead of just making the decision, but decided that it was her talkative personality that wouldn't allow her to miss a chance to speak her mind.

Looking up to the green pollution tinted sky, he noted that the sun was a fair distance from the horizon and that her plan made sense. His back aching from the heavy weight of their gear, he couldn't help but breathe a quiet breath of relief at the thought of a break or at least a good night's sleep.

"Oh, hey, what are you doing here?" Sara chimed, her voice seeming suddenly soft.

Charon turned inquisitively to see her move towards two grocery carts against the far wall near the stairs. The two carts were placed on top of one another with their baskets tied together to form a sort of cage; a small brown and ruined teddy bear trapped in their center.

She looked over the carts with an expression of bewilderment as she reached a hand out to tug on one, testing their structural integrity. They rocked back and forth with little resistance, seeming deteriorated by the harshness of the sun and weather, but two or three pieces of wire holding them together stayed fixed in place.

She struggled for a moment to break the bonds, but finally managed to pry the rusted wire away and release the carts from one another; letting one fall to the ground. She reached in and lifted out the ruined, but surviving teddy bear, which missed an eye and had been severely deflated from lack of stuffing.

"I wonder who did this." Sara pondered, turning over the bear in her hands as she looked it over, "It just seems… really out of place."

Charon drew closer, studying the peculiar arrangement until his eyes locked with something of interest. Reaching his hand down, he lifted out a thin strand of sturdy wire that lay broken inside. "Trip line."

"What?" Sara asked, her voice rising with sudden alarm.

Charon calmly let his eyes travel over the walls, around the carts and over the ground, but found no explosives or dangers appearing as well as noticing a significant lack of carnage. "Must have failed."

"What kind of sick bastard makes a trap out of a teddy bear?"

"One incompetent enough to not do it correctly."Charon stated plainly.

Seeming to accept his response, Sara shrugged and hooked the arm of the teddy bear under her belt to hold it in place. Finding it secure, she nodding at her handwork and moved past Charon, taking hold of the stone railing lining the stairway as she briskly scaled the tall steps, leading out into the Wastes.

They arrived at the top of the stairs fairly quick and Charon's eyes scanned the horizon. The terrain was far hillier than he expected, with large boulders jutting from the ground and the charred remains of trees standing in the distance. But it wouldn't make a difference. What mattered was the Wastes seemed fairly empty today, void of any obvious dangers. Perhaps the travel would prove easier than expected.

Sara took the lead as she often did and he followed at her side, trusting her Pip-boy to guide them safely to Vault 101; quietly relishing the idea of a break after weeks of constant scavenging. They moved in relative silence over the hilly landscape with only the dull sounds of their boots against the hard ground disturbing their peace.

But suddenly, a low rumble caught their attention. They slowed carefully in their pace as their eyes cautiously looked over the world around them. Coming to a full stop they waited to listen for a hint to the origin of the sound, but the low rumble seemed erratic in rhythm and distant in sound. Charon glanced quizzically to Sara as though she could offer an answer, or perhaps her Pipboy could offer insight.

Sara's eyes mirrored Charon's, looking wary. "Wasn't me."

Before Charon could clarify or at least roll his eyes, the dull rumble rapidly rose in audibly, becoming frighteningly faster in pace and louder with each passing moment until a violent roar pierced the air. A sharp jab of humility struck in their chests as a chill ran over their skin; their eyes darting sharply to the source of the bellow just as the monster of creation rose over the hilly terrain.

Colossal size, the monster towered frighteningly tall even at the distance between them. Its face showed mangled, deformed and enraged with blunt, massive teeth bearing venomously. Rolling, tense muscles barely concealed in dark green-ish yellow, leather like flesh that radiated strength and unbridled power. Wielding a fire hydrant with a thick piece of concrete attached, making a club of huge mass, the Super Mutant Behemoth growled fiercely at them before advancing toward them in giant leaps.

Pure instinct engaging, Charon's hand shot out for his gun on his back, but Sara's panicked words jolted him from his hard rooted duty to fight and protect.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" She cursed loudly as pure humanity slammed in the forefront of her mind; her pace picking up to a run as she backed away from the advancing monster. "Run! Get to the Metro Station!" She ordered harshly as she turned sharply on her heel and dashed off into a sprint.

Urgency and reason pounded intensely in Charon's mind as logic engaged, forcing him to abandoned all hopes of defending against or firing on the Behemoth. Following suit, he turned hard and broke into a dead run. Sara, in her lean and unencumbered form, gained speed over Charon who felt the weigh of their equipment weighing down on his body with each step.

The monster roared again and closed the space between them with each enormous step, seeming to shake the ground beneath them every time the Behemoth's immense form stomped onto the ground. The monster swung his makeshift club over his head and slammed it against ground, in either frustration or excitement, causing a large piece of concrete to fling from the ground and go flying through the air.

Spinning violently through the air, gaining momentum and speed as it went, the solid and heavy piece of concrete slammed without warning, excruciatingly into Charon's shoulder. The sheer force of the sudden impact sending him hurtling into the ground and forcing sharp cry in pain to escaped his mouth involuntarily. His body crashed painfully hard into the earth, forcing all the breath harshly from his lungs and making his vision flash stark white as he skid for feet before coming to a slow stop.

His mind spun from the intensity of the impact as he weakly fought away panic and unconsciousness; unable to find the strength to rise or force his lungs to stretch for breath as the numb pain in his shoulder blossomed with intense, hot, white pain.

Sara's nimble form moved swiftly over the terrain, her sight zeroed in on the large staircase ahead of her as her feet dodged deftly around the brush and debris surrounding the Station.

The Metro Station and safety was just in her grasp.

She was within a foot of running down the stairs in giant leaps, when her hands suddenly darted out and grasped the stone railing to stop her advance as the sharp sound of Charon's cry reached her ears. She whipped her head around to find his body absent from the spot she expected it in behind her.

Her face falling in panic, her eyes darted to and fro to catch sight of him, but found him nowhere. Her heart rising to her throat, her eyes finally locked on the form lying limp on the ground with the gigantic Behemoth advancing rapidly on him.

Panic jabbed into her body as she realized the danger.

He would die.

There wasn't a moment's doubt in her mind of that fact.

He would die.

There wasn't time to think; there wasn't time to calculate a plan of action; there wasn't time to weigh the odds. Charon was going to die and that's all that her mind would bring to her attention. Those words were the only ones that would pound in her mind and did so harshly.

Forcing down any and all debate or the urgency to run down the stairs to her own safety, she acted with a speed that surprised her. Digging her nails into the hard stone rail, she used it to give her momentum as she launched herself away from the stairs, taking off into a dead run towards the injured form of Charon.

Her feet pounded fast and hard on the ground, nearly as fast as her heart pounding in her chest, as she dodged rocks and brush alike. Her breath came short and quick while her mind refused to think of anything but getting to Charon's side; not even sparing thought to what she needed to do once she arrived.

She didn't have time to.

The massive Behemoth traveled yards with each enormous step while she moved with a shorter but swifter speed. The monster was growing closer and closer to Charon, faster than she could run.

She only had moments to spare as she came within feet of him.

She dove for Charon, falling to her knees and kicking up a choking cloud of dust as she skidded to a stop at his side. Her breath coming ragged, she threw herself over him and grasped at his side.

Before he could protest or question, Sara's hands fervently fumbled with the bonds of her target, finally unlatching the massive nuke launcher off Charon's side and heaving it with great difficulty onto her shoulder. Grunting breathlessly with effort as the launcher rested on her shoulder, she pushed away the pain that jabbed in her arm as the sharp components dug into her flesh. With it already loaded and ready, she didn't even take the time to bring the sight to her eye as she pulled the trigger of the Fat Man.

An ear-ringingly sharp rumble shot forth from the Fat Man as it fired the mini-nuke. The recoil alone knocking the breath from her lungs and forcing her to fall backwards onto her back as her petite arms went numb from the shock.

The mini-nuke traveled only yards before it connected with the Behemoth, exploding with earth shaking force. The aftershock slammed painfully hard into Charon and Sara, throbbing sharply in their chests and knocking their minds blank as it drove them harder into the dirt; making them skid farther over the ground. A sharp burn from the heat of the blast mixed with the tingling sensation of the radiation and the numbness of the shock overwhelmed them as they lay motionless on the ground.

Moments passed as though they were hours as they lay limp on the ground, heavy breathing the only sign of life; fast and rhythmic, deep and hard, matching the beats of their hearts.

A low groan escaped from deep in Sara's throat as she forced herself to roll onto her side, resting her arm achingly over her eyes to try to ease the sudden headache that throbbed in her skull. A sharp ring enveloped her senses as she lay motionless to let her body try to ease into mobility again, but deciding that the aching wouldn't subside soon, she forced open her eyes.

Blinding light bleared painfully into her skull, but she squinted against it, looked past her feet to the decimated ruins where the Behemoth once stood. The monster was obliterated, leaving only charred bits of flesh scattered across the Wastes and a black, burnt stain on the ground where it had been.

Just as expected.

She nearly laughs with sick pleasure as rested her head back down, muttering, "Eat that, fucker."

Biting back the ache that had slowly spread to encompass her entire form, she forced herself to sit forward. Finding her arms to be no help as they felt weak and beaten, she steadied herself with her legs before casting a glance to Charon beside her.

Lying on his uninjured side, he was entirely still with only his shallow breathing as a sign of life. His head rested against the ground with his face shielded from her sight.

"Charon?" She uttered between pants; her chest still heaving,

A moment of silence.

"I-" His raspy voice spoke, sounding pained and strained, "I'll survive."

Grunting quietly and hissing at the sharp pain that jolted through him with any movement, he slowly tried to drag himself from the ground. A deep, burning pain spread through his shoulder as he managed to prop himself up on the elbow of his uninjured arm, biting down the blazing pain with the promise of a Stimpak as soon as he could find one.

But his shoulder only throbbed more fiercely in that position, so had to angrily force himself up from the ground, gasping sharply at the pain in his shoulder as he tried not to move it, but found it nearly impossible. Waving away any help Sara offered, he struggled, but prevailed in his efforts; bringing himself to sit upright beside Sara and cradling his injured arm tentatively with his other.

Squinting to avoid the harshness of the sun above, Charon surveyed the wreckage before them; taking in the deep, black blast mark where the Fat Man had collided with the Behemoth and breathing in the sharp odor of burning flesh which filled all his senses.

His head throbbed soundly as his eyes burned with the strange yellow glow he had come to associate with the Fat Man's blast. His ears rung furiously, forcing him to concentrate to make out Sara's words.

Sara smiled faintly at his side. "Damn it. My ears are ringing again."

The ringing in his ears made him pause a moment to decipher her words. Charon couldn't help let a tired smile form on his lips, although it seemed pained and forced as the throbbing in his shoulder complained.

His breathing still heavy, Charon let a moment of silence pass before he spoke. His deep voice serious, "You ran back."

Sara glanced warily to Charon, confused as to the meaning of his words, "Yeah. Guess I did."

"The plan wasn't to face it; it was to retreat." Charon paused thoughtfully, "Why'd you run back?"

"Well, I couldn't just leave you here." Sara defended, her expression still speaking perplexity, "I mean, the thing was going to stomp you into a puddle. How could I just keep going and let that happen?"

"Because it could've killed you - so could've the blast." Charon retorted sharply, "Running back was too risky for you."

"Sure it was, but what choice did I have?" Sara contended, "Why wouldn't I have?"

"Because it was a Super Mutant Behemoth. You don't fight those, you run. You shouldn't have risked yourself, I'm…" His voice faltered, making him pause as his eyes drifted over the wreckage before them, "I'm just your bodyguard. You could buy another one just as cheap and not worry about being slaughtered by a monster."

"What? What are you talking about - just buy another? The hell are you talking about? You're kidding me, ri-" Sara stopped suddenly, not seeing a hint of humor in Charon's expression as he surveyed the wreckage. "Oh." She whispered simply. Her eyes drifted down. "So it's about that, eh? The fact that I have your contract." She pondered, glancing down to her pocket, where the paper that she had purchased him with resided. She brought her eyes back up to his face, "You think I'd just let you die because I bought you in the Underworld?"

"Why wouldn't you?" He stated more than asked.

"Well, I mean, sure, I bought you and all, but…" She began slowly, "It doesn't really matter out here. A piece of paper won't really keep you from just shooting me in the head - not that I'm encouraging that or anything!" She added quickly. "But, you know… we're… partners. You save my ass, I save yours? Isn't that what they use say in those old holotapes?" She offered with a half smile.

Charon slowly brought his eyes up to hers. Deep within his entirely human eyes, flickered the faintest signs of optimism - nearly hopeful.

"And, you know, we walked all day in the sun - with no gallivanting - so we could go get that shitty dog that for some fucked up reason, wants to play fetch with my grenades all the time. Why wouldn't I go back for you? I'd say you're worth more than just a dog." She said sincerely, a genuine smile spreading over her face. "We're… friends, you know?"

"Friends?" Charon asked, almost experimentally.

"Yeah." She replied. "So what do you say, want to go get that shitty dog? Partner?" She lifted her hand from her side and extended it to him, ignoring the throbbing in her forearm.

He looked to her hand uncertainly.

Partners. Equals.

To be a person to someone in this world.

He placed his own deformed and coarse hand in hers, tightening his grasp firmly and shaking it as he mirrored her smile half heartedly.

Friends.

What an odd concept.

A/N: The title is the song, 'Everybody Loves Somebody (Sometime)' by Dean Martin. I actually decided on the name before I wrote anything else, because, come on, it just fits so perfectly.

This is my half of an art-trade with Pup-The-Derp from deviantART. Sara is her Fallout 3 OC and I really own nothing but my writing style. You should definitely check out her gallery to see more of these two characters, because she has a lot of great art. :D

This was really a learning experience because I had to write about a character that had really been deeply developed beforehand, whereas all my other stories contained characters that were either vaguely developed or completely new. And, sadly, I'll admit that I have done everything in Fallout 3 but have Dogmeat and Charon as companions. So it took a bit of research to write about these characters and I really hope I didn't disgrace them (or make Charon too angst-y). Tell me if I did.

And as a little fun fact, I listened to 'Tooth And Nail', by Foreigner to write the fight scene at the end. :D Which is oddly relevant, seeing as how they're love interests later on. Just something you might find interesting.

So, I had fun, although it took a bit to get started. Thanks for your patience, Pup-The-Derp, and I hope you like it.