Fallout 1. Circle 1:hell's red

Heres the first chapter of the story I've been neglecting my other stories for. Sorry to those of you that have been followed them, but I had this weird idea/dream. Had to write it down and it's been evolving this past week or so. Set about nine or eight years after the end of Fallout 3. Let me know what you think, I'm not really familiar with doing AU (which this isn't really but feels enough like one too me) so feedback is appreciated.

Dislaimer: Don't own Fallout or Bethesda. I just own a copy of the game...

Enjoy.

edit: LillyWhiteRosePetals helped make this more readable. Thank you friend! :)

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Finding the Vault door hadn't been the problem, it was getting in.

The ghouls that guarded the place were heavily armed. Which she couldn't help thinking may have been a thoughtless idea since a few specked out ghouls looked just as interesting as a scantily dressed waste whore these days.

The dust coated her feet like a second layer of skin. Her tan hide and leather boots now unmistakably the color of yellow sand.

The milky eyes of the ghoul guards stared her down, demanding what she wanted by coming here; coming to _Abyss_. They didn't take to kindly to smoothskins. Blood between ghouls and humans had gotten worse over the past ten years and if she was being honest, she'd taken a little to big of a risk by coming here...especially in broad daylight.

The fog lights hanging up and down the tunnel did little to light up the place. It was as if the rocks absorbed the illumination just to make it easier for the ghouls to see her, but harder for her to see them. She had learned the hard way, only a few months after crawling out of her own Vault, how better ghouls nocturnal sight was compared to hers. A faint memory cropped up at the thought; a strong but pleasant one.

She'd heard about _Abyss_ from a few shady travelers, a couple whores who'd tried to make a living down there, and one particular trader with a missing hand; he had little good to say about a particular ghoul down there by the name of Cerberus.

"Here to trade. I mean no harm. No weapons.", it was a lie, but no one would find the 32. she'd stashed under her skirt. She knew the drill.

The rest of her weapons she'd hid in a locker, in a room on the sub-level of a old war bunker, in a small two bedroom house. She figured they were safe, but if not she was just as good with her fists as she was with a weapon.

She slung her pack down on the rocky floor in front of the two guards, taking a step back and holding her hands out from her sides. The whole ordeal was quite formal. One checked her bag, and the other patted her down. By this time she didn't flinch when the rough, searching hands grabbed at her breasts ass and hips; it was procedure. It was quick and to the point, just as she expected from a Vault run by ghouls; they were never ones to waste time, even though they had lots of it.

The right ghoul, glared at her as he slammed a fist on the button to his right, apparently that meant she was cleared. One thing she always loved about ghouls was that no matter how tough you were, and no matter how weak they were, the glares they gave could make your ass clench and your mouth shut.

It took only a few seconds for the almost forgotten noises of the door to creak and jam, then push in and over. Dust puffed out behind the ghouls, wafting in her face and blowing some of her greasy hair back, which considering how heavy with filth her hair was, it was strong.

The two cocked their weapons - well kept assault rifles - as she passed into the thick atmosphere of _Abyss_. It smelt like _him_, just like she remembered and for the first time in ten years she actually wanted to run the other way.

The place was lined with guards, each one carrying their own well maintained weapon. The fire power in the control room alone made the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. They had gotten organized fast, more than any human colony had in these years. They all gave her roughly the same look, it told her to watch her step. They wouldn't hesitate raping her body with their bullets if she made a wrong move. She knew that much.

She adjusted her pack, pulling the second strap over her shoulder as she walked past the line of guards into a relatively deserted hallway. Everything was dark, hazy with moisture, like a thick jungle she'd seen in films; though the air itself was rather cold...it was a wet cold.

Another guard at the end, watched her, raising a weapon just as the intercom buzzed on. The sound made her jump, despite her desire to show she was intimidated as little as possible. The half transformed ghoul woman, with her weapon pointed straight at her head paused, listening to the announcement.

"We got us a smoothskin boys and girls, she's been cleared so don't shoot her unless she gives you all good reason...", there was a pause but the hum of the intercom continued for a few seconds, "...Cora, report to control room in five."

The ghoul woman, currently poised and ready to kill, glared at her, one eye lower than the other before slowly lowering her spic and span aka 47. She shoved past the smoothskin and headed down the hall behind her.

In the thick air the smoothskin broke out in a cold sweat. The ghoul woman looked too familiar and for some reason her feet still felt like heavy blocks glued to the floor. This place was armed to the teeth and no one looked like they wanted anything more than to bust a cap between her eyes. Coming here was either genius or idiotic.

After a few seconds she moved again. Cora, that name hadn't sounded familiar, but her peeling face was. She kept her head down, figuring the submissive gesture would keep the trouble to a minimum. It did, surprisingly, or maybe it was just that she didn't see the looks everyone gave her. The animosity was heavy around her, but it was too be expected.

Ever since the Brotherhood napalmed Underworld things had gotten hairy. As far as she knew this was the only safe haven for the ghouls, and only a few people knew about it...though many others didn't acknowledge it more than a rumor of hope among the surviving ghouls. She saw fewer and fewer ghouls in her travels and was almost convinced everyone was right, that the bigots had finally gotten rid of the ghouls; had finally finished the first step of purifying the wasteland...

Red light, hung over ledges and above doors. The place literally looked like hell, as it was described in the new testament. Gone was the meek, friendly atmosphere of Underworld and hello too the violent, battle ready decor of _Abyss_; a fitting name.

To say she felt singled out, discriminated against and despised was an understatement. It was like they were trying their hardest to make her feel like they had when they'd first turned into ghouls, or still did. It didn't work as much as she knew they would have liked, she was used to ghouls...but not exactly like this. Things had changed, and not for the better.

At least she knew her way around Vaults, and the makeup didn't change much from one to the next, though the graffiti and dim lighting almost reversed her sense of familiarity.

In the common room was where she came across what looked as much like civilians as any ghoul in here looked. She was even surprised to see a child, maybe twelve walking around with a combat knife in his belt, though she knew better than to think that he was as young as he looked. For all she knew he was twice as old as her...

The mood was unpleasant all of a sudden. Her heart took in slow strong beats, as she surveyed the area. Spray painted signs littered the walls and alcoves above doors. Name and places were in code, western religious and biblical versus littered everywhere.

Standing in the middle of the room, as ghouls bumped past her and grumbled, sniffing and staring, forced her to take a right, down some place that was titled _Two Fields_. If she remember this was where normally the living quarters were, but the black corridors and red lights were starting to twirl her visual acuity. She couldn't tell what was a door and what was a wall sometimes.

Rough laughter sounded to her right, two ghouls were looking at her, smoking cigarettes near a vent. She nearly collided with a structural beam while trying to take the open door to her left; a bathroom. She was standing in a relatively bright bathroom with her heart pounding in her chest.

She touched her temples, feeling a headache coming on from what she thought was a combination of the wet air and the red lights. This place wasn't for humans, and where as one time, long ago she preferred the company of ghouls to humans...that time was slowly fading away.

In the mirror she saw her face, shiny with perspiration and lips white. She felt ill, nauseated and soon she found herself face deep in one of the toilets. Her guts emptied for about ten minutes, alternating from spewing out food and stomach bile. Her nerves were on end, no longer was she as calm and calculated as when she'd walked into this vault.

A few full steady breathes help her remove herself from the stall. Her pack was on the floor and she pulled out a box of mentats, popping one and swallowing them with the bitter water from the faucet.

Her stomach still grumbled and every part of her felt coated in a sticky layer of sweat, it cooled quickly making her skin prickle and her fingers twitch.

She nearly laughed, scrubbing her face in the sink. If she found _him;_ if she found Charon, what would he think of her if he saw her now? With the small creases under her eyes, coupled with her long hair and right now...her pale sweaty face. She was older now, not the flawless smoothskin he'd taught and been taught by all those years ago. If she found him, she supposed she'd know then what he thought, and if he was anywhere, he'd be here. He would, she reassured herself.

She wet her hair back, pushing over the strands and getting a little grease out at the same time, humming a slow mellow tune as she did so. She was calm now, at least as much as she could be given the situation. In the mirror, with the soft light she looked the same as when she'd stepped out of the Vault, fresh faced and naive. She would have trusted a man to take her clothes off if he said he was checking for star dust back then. Not now, not anything like how she was. Most of it was with Charon's help too, he'd taught her many things...things that she wouldn't dare talk about now. She wouldn't even talk about him, pretending he was human, to anyone.

The water drained down the sink, swirling with bits of grit. She almost gagged, thinking she guzzled that down moments ago.

Everything changed after the purifier collapsed. The Brotherhood got paranoid, turning out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing after all she and Charon had done...even after her father...

She gripped the sink and stared down her own reflection as tears welled up. "Don't you fucking dare.", she hissed to herself, blinking back the tears. Crying was for pussies...and she proved it a dozen times over that she was no pussy.

Things went to hell soon after the Brotherhood sent out nameless patrols to exterminate the ghouls and mutants, people got scared...hopeless for anything else to come around and save them from themselves. The Brotherhood came around though, fed them all lies and set up colonies around Washington and Maryland. They burned all the FEV rejects and the skinless humans, they burned it all, everything but the humans...and god knew most of them deserved worse than being set on fire. Raiders were spared, most enslaved. It was scary to think how fast shit went down, how quickly the hope they had just slipped through their fingers into the wind. She hadn't heard from Charon, since...

Eight years at least, but she remembered watching him turn his back on her much earlier than that.

When a shriek of metal hit her ears she whipped her head around, catching the sight of the same female ghoul from the hallway, the one with half her face still covered in smooth flesh. The ghoul woman only nodded to her, halting her weapon over her shoulder and pressing into the stall beside the one the smoothskin had recently purged in. No animosity like before, but no pleasantries either.

The door to the bathroom stuck as it closed, hummed and then slammed shut all the way with a shudder.

The nerves smacked her stomach again, but the mentat was starting to ease her a bit, and it would make the attempted conversation a little less terrifying. In the mirror she gave herself a smile and willed herself to lean back off the sink.

The toilet flushed and out came the ghoul woman. She washed her hands, ignoring the smoothskin beside her. It was awkward, both knew something was brewing, one of them wanted to talk, or both but neither knew what to start off with. So when the ghoul woman finished, wiping her hands on a ratty button up blouse she just stood there, watching her own reflection just as the smoothskin did hers. There was something unspoken between them already...

"Cora.", the voice was raspy, like she remembered Willow's being. Another memory hit her, but she held in the frown for a smile.

"Heard that over the loudspeaker. It's nice to meet you.", she turned seeing Cora still watching her own reflection.

"Ha! I doubt that very much smoothskin..."

The ghoul picked at her skin lightly, peeling off a small portion of dead flesh. It was gross, but never would she insult the ghoul by showing any signs of the emotion on her face. For turning into a ghoul before her own eyes, Cora was quite nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Think what you like." She turned from the ghoul, staring around the bathroom out of a compulsive habit. The meet and greet wasn't going good, not that she expected as much...but she did have hope in the beginning. A friend would have been good, at least someone who could tell her if Charon was here or not.

"I'm Harriet." She stated, glancing at Cora who was washing a section of skin with wet fingers.

"I don't really care about your name. Why your here would be better..."

Here it was. She could ask if _he_ was here, or if she'd heard of _him_...but all of a sudden, with the situation perfect she avoided the question. The answer may not be so good...and was probably not what she wanted to hear, most likely. So she gave the excuse she'd given the guards.

"Trading..."

"You reek of suspicion, you know that? Don't even sound like you believe your lie either. You another whore?" Cora's tone was bleak, as if she'd had the same conversation with a dozen smoothskins, and for all Harriet knew, the ghoul had - though it didn't help to know that and she was still offended by the question.

"No. Do I look like a whore to you?" Harriet stared, eyes dead solid on Cora and even when the ghoul turned and gave her a once over she couldn't help feeling the urge to shoot her with the .32 nestled against her thigh.

"Guess not, but I haven't seen a smoothskin woman come in here that wasn't, not that they lasted long. Most ghouls in here are starved for it, not like I'll fuck em'...or barely any other ghoul women...and they don't really want to fuck us either. Makes for busy whores..."

The words weren't lost on her but it was just the fact that Cora had actually made conversation that made her gut stop churning. Harriet stared down with a sad smile on her face, unable to hide it. She had spoken to her with more than a few clipped words, it was a start. It reminded her of when she'd first gotten Charon to say a whole sentence to her, albeit the sentence had been a rude one...but it was still a good memory.

"What the fuck are you smilin' about smoothskin."

"Harriet.", she corrected, still with a semblance of a smile. Her nerves mellowed down now that it felt the ice had been cracked.

"Whatever, just don't try anything, some of us out there," she gestured to the bathroom door, "are itching to take you down.." Cora seemed to stop halfway out the door. She looked over at the smoothskin, giving her a look of pity and mild contempt, "...and I was until a moment ago."

Then she was gone, like that, leaving the lingering smell of stale scotch and smoke behind. The bathroom was just as cold and damp as it had been, and the chills set in again. The idea of setting out into the red hellish hallways wasn't a pleasant one, but she needed a drink. The alcohol was guaranteed to stifle her nerves like the mentats didn't. But first, she needed to trade some of her shit until she could afford the booze.

So, with one last farewell to her reflection; the one with the tired eyes and the shiny skin, she swung her pack over a shoulder and exited the bathroom.

Outside the bathroom, through the hallways the area was dead. No one but a lone ghoul with a hand rolled cigarette was out, and he didn't even look at her. There was an echo of some old music drifting through the rooms, a few clicks and creaks, but besides that all was quite. The signs were still hard to read, sprawled in swirls and block-like letters. She followed an intricate snake pattern up one wall, it curved high, past the railing to the second floor and straight up to the dome window of the Overseer's office.

A figure was in the window.

A large black silhouette stood, arms behind it's back, legs parted. The stance was stoic and she couldn't help but stare.

The figure made her body freeze - not stop moving - but literally drop in temperature. It was as if some one had shot her full of ice. Goose bumps ran up her sides, and the tips of her fingers burned.

She locked eyes with it, or at least where she assumed their eyes would have been.

The shoulders were broad, the legs thick. Whoever it was they were built, or maybe - she tried to remember - that was how they always looked when they were up there. Her memory was limited from that long ago, but it didn't matter much any more.

He or she, no...most definitely a man, was looking at her. She knew it; the head was tilted down at an angle, in her direction. The graffiti snake's head was large underneath him, one bulging eye with an open mouth; fangs and tongue exaggerated. It fit well with his imposing black form, one that wouldn't stop looking down at her. She knew not to make a face, not at the one that was in the power house, but without knowing what she was doing her stare turned hard.

It felt like forever until the figure wavered, turned and left the view of the window. The moment passed, the sub-zero feeling leaving her, making the air almost warm in comparison. She breathed in again, barely aware that she'd been holding her breath the whole time.

She needed a drink. Once she saw everything through the layer of a good buzz she'd be find. She always did function better on a bit of booze everyday.

The ghoul in the corner coughed, squishing out his cigarette. She watched him as he headed out a door behind him on his left. The door read nothing but a symbol, a cross between a circle and a lug nut. Looking back at the other signs she determined the lug nut door was the one that had the most chance of having supplies.

With one more look to the empty dome window she trailed through after the tobacco smelling ghoul. The hallway was bright, almost too much compared to the rust saturated common room. Her eyes flashed; adjusting. No graffiti either. It was spick and span, clean enough to eat off of...well that was a lie, but it was clean enough for anyones tastes.

Doors along the hallway were closed, except a few that appeared to be lounges, one with a projector room. Armored ghouls were crowded in the rooms, arguing it seemed, but over what...she didn't know.

Ahead at the end of the corridor was a hazy room, one with a ghoul behind a counter, shelves upon shelves of produce, at least from this distance it looked like that. The closer she got the more she realized they weren't boxes of salisbury steaks and fancy lads snack cakes but countless boxes of ammo, every color, shape and size.

In the doorway she stopped, surprised and near giddy. It was like she'd stepped into the ultimate loot pile, except if she wanted this, she'd have to pay. Though that was fine, the fact of the matter was that it was available, and in the wastes part of the battle was finding it, the other was paying for it.

The ghoul behind the counter perked up, face thin and cheeks hollow. His mouth was small and his eyes big, with what looked like a large scar starting from one corner of his mouth down to just under his jaw. It was a nasty wound, but for her scars were something to admire, it meant you were a survivor; meant you didn't end up just another corpse being picked clean by vultures.

"A fellow Vault rat maybe? You know your way around the tunnels, or maybe you sucked it up and asked a ghoul for directions. Somehow I find that more possible coming from a woman than a man, and you are definitely a...woman." He was sly, eyes looking her over, but she wasn't bothered by the act in the least.

The older she got the more she appreciated the crude gestures, words and innuendoes. The ghoul wagged what would have been eyebrows at her, lips parting to show dull teeth.

She smirked, setting her fists down on the counter, gazing past the ghoul at the array of ammo, weapons, and...pornography? She stopped and stared, and it seemed he caught her cause the smirk he got on his face could have melted the sun.

"Ah, never see a naked lady before? I have a mirror in the back... if you'd like I could show you one just with the flick of my wrist."

She snorted, un-lady like, but it mattered little. "No thanks, I know how to undress myself."

"Pity, what can I do for you then? The magazines are expensive...just so you know."

The mentats were doing their job and she placed her pack down in the counter with a sheepish grin, feeling much better than earlier.

"Got a few things to trade, think you might find them useful, what with all your...", she waved a hand to the counters behind him, "...goods."

He seemed interested, leaning over the counter with hands bracing on the edge. He watched her hands more than what she was putting on the counter, and she knew why too. She was missing a finger, which in the wastes wasn't too uncommon, but most never saw it on a woman. She wiggled the half digit, watching his eyes waver before looking up at her. He looked a bit embarrassed but it was gone when he saw what she'd set on the counter.

"Specs?"

She nodded, a small smile on her lips as she set down a few other less interesting odds and ends.

"These will come in handy. Where did you get them, if you don't mind me asking?" He palmed each one, some extended magazines and one thick silencer. The ghoul looked impressed, but only vaguely, in fact she was a little surprised he hadn't wet himself at the sight of them.

"Picked them off some hoods.."

The room got real quiet, and it was then she realized it may have been best if she'd lied. The ghoul stared at her, lowered eyes and an expression as unreadable as it was worrisome. His thin bitten fingers set the specs down carefully, almost like they were made out of glass. She watched him, ready to see just what he had to say.

"How'd you manage that?" His tone was curious but disbelieving, almost suspicious.

"Sheer willpower...", she paused, eyes locked with his; her smile gone, "...They hate me as much as they hate you by now."

"I wonder why that is...", it wasn't a question, more of a statement. Nevertheless the ghoul opened up his register and started dishing out caps. The whole placed was rigged left and right with everything that made her mouth salivate, so when she saw the amount of caps he had in stock she told herself she shouldn't have been surprised. The question was...how did this place have everything it needed, nay, more than it needed. The logical answer was that they were building an army, all the necessary components were there and the pieces fit.

So as the ghoul strung up small pouches of caps she couldn't help but wonder, "Have you killed any?"

Again the room went silent, but it didn't last as long as the previous pregnant pause.

"No, but he didn't kill me." The ghoul gestured to his face, the scar looked more pronounced now that he'd craned his neck to the side, and the scar didn't stop where she'd thought it had. The jagged length trailed down just under his adam's apple, where the gash deepened. She locked eyes with him, how the bastard managed to survive a cut to the throat like that was beyond her. The ghoul survived...that he was right about.

"He might have died, but I wont ever know for sure. Got him good in the gut right before, but the coward ran off, guessing he'd let me bleed out."

"They're all cowards...to an extent...", she added. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable, eyes shifting anywhere but the ghouls face. It felt like she'd been given the information just so she'd feel bad for asking, which she couldn't deny wasn't the case.

"Names Aser..."

He was itching the scar on his neck, looking at her with lidded eyes. The tone friendly, but nothing like the fake tone he'd used the first time. There was even a little smile to his lips. She gave him his own look back and pushed a hand out at him, the one with four fingers. He took it, a firm grip that she returned wholeheartedly. They squeezed each other palms, negating the usual shake.

"Harriet."

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman.", and the slutty tone was back. She grinned, pulling her hand back, picking up the caps he'd pouched. They were heavy, in her hands and she bounced them in a palm.

"Feels like you've given me a too-good-to-be-true price."

"New customer, need to make sure you end up returning. Don't know if I can have that sweet ass come in here and never come back."

"You haven't even seen my ass yet." She paused, licking her lips before giving him a cold look. "I'm not a whore you know..." She put the caps in her pack, shaking her head and smirking into the sack.

"I know, whores aren't as pretty as you." He must have been a charmer in his non-ghoul days. For a scared up ghoul trader he sure was a confident fucker, "I was going to close up for awhile, let me buy you a drink?"

He wasn't a charmer now, a slime if she had to describe his approach but his humor was good and damn her if she wasn't impressed by the scar. Not only that, but he may be able to give her a few good answers about this place, without sneering at her every syllable like she would expect Cora too - not that she had planned on searching the ghoul woman out, or maybe she had. Regardless, there was something interesting about Aser and damn her to hell if she was gonna turn down a drink with good company.

"You read my mind Aser."

"Course I did." He smirked, jiggling his keys in one palm and slicking his patchy off-green hair back with the other.

She secured her pack over a shoulder, following out after him and waiting as he locked the shop.

As they walked he told her about _Abyss_, not the details but the rundown.

It had been around for the past six years, growing more everyday. They had all the amenities and normally, they had the entertainment, meaning whores, but he gruffly told her they couldn't handle what he was packin'. A ghoul named Cerberus was the foundation, taking over this vault with a group of others. She asked more about him but Aser just ignored her, kept on talking about the place and the stuff he did for fun; mostly involving alcohol and pussy when he could get it.

She thought back to the intricate snake graffiti in the common room; how it slithered its way up, cradling the Overseer's dome window like a meal. The black figure, she was sure, had been Cerberus, the one that had stared her down making her feel like she'd never left her vault; like she was still a nineteen year old girl, ignorant of anything evil or traitorous. The feeling hadn't been pleasant, but it wasn't unfamiliar either.

They passed a placed called _Resurrection_, the medical wing where two average technicians acted as doctors. _Two_ _Fields_ was the male and female living quarters as she'd suspected and there was even a whole reactor floor for the hounds they trained. There were other places but he said that he could show her that later, when he took her back to his place.

She shook her head finally finding a reason to laugh. She walked on with him, ignoring his witty flirtations as they headed down red filtered corridors. They were headed to the bar, a place called _Dante's_, which she figured was fitting enough considering the place she was in.

Even if Aser wanted nothing more than to get her good and buzzed, naked and on his bed, she was still grateful for something akin to friendship. The last time she'd been able to laugh with a ghoul was way too fucking long ago.

_Dante's_ was reasonably filled, ghouls littering the tables pushed into the walls. Smoke filtered up into the ceiling, creating a haze that blocked out the dusty grey color above them all. If it didn't smell so rich, it would have been pleasant; the atmosphere and all. Most of the ghouls stared, but after a few moments they went back to their conversation or drunken solitude.

"Sit down, I'll get the drinks...Harriet." She sat down, a table near the center of the bar. He said her name like you would a fine wine and all she could do was shoot him a warning glance before plunking her pack by her feet.

"Whiskey." She called out as he turned his back on her.

Some eyes were still on her, and she made contact with them. It was amazing what a conversation with a ghoul like Aser did for her confidence of the place. Now that she knew more about the vault, its residents and some more shady aspects she felt less intimidated by the looks. She spotted Cora at a table of male ghouls, knocking back shot after shot like the rest of them. The ghoul woman wasn't looking at her, in fact she would go as far as to say she was avoiding her as her eyes poured over the bar. She didn't hold it against the ghoul, she may have done the same if she were in her shoes.

Aser came back, two full glasses of whiskey, nothing like the small shots most everyone else was milking.

"You must really want me drunk Aser..."

"I'm a sucker for getting one's point across early in the game."

She chuckled again, the sarcasm was what she needed right now, the whiskey too...but he didn't know how well she could hold her alcohol. She took a few good mouth fulls of the whiskey, draining half the glass. The lip of the glass rested against her mouth for a moment as she thought of something. The figure in the dome window from before was bothering her, like it ought too she figured. There was something odd about the whole thing, and it wasn't just the normal infuriation of being belittled by an unknown person.

Aser was staring at her, not having touched his glass yet. Her eyes went to his, and something passed between them. They stared at each other a few moments, the silence between them pleasant as the chatter and cajoles of the bar wafted over them.

He saw the question in her eyes, she knew it, but that didn't mean he would humor her about it.

"So, I'm guess that was Cerberus in the Overseer's window?"

"Mmm...you saw him up this early?" His voice was drawl, as if the whole question bored the shit out of him.

"It's three o'clock", she gave him his tone back at him and he cocked a brow.

Aser gave a lopsided grin to his drink and took a hardy swallow before saying anything else, "Even down here, with no sunlight he seems to avoid the daylight hours. Nasty mother fucker, and I mean that in the best possible way."

She set her glass down, folding her arms on the table. The look of rushed curiosity was more than evident in her body language and expression, but she couldn't be bothered to care.

"Tell me."

Aser paused, looking as if she'd said something insulting, but the look went away after he downed the whole heavy glass of alcohol. He surveyed the bar. No one was watching them anymore, to busy with their own conversations and binge drinking.

"You seem like the sort to take things for what they are, so just know he's not one you speak ill of...even in the privacy of your own bed with your dick in your hand."

She noticed a shake in his hand, the one holding his empty glass in the air. He gestured to her half full glass and she shook her head. With a breath Aser downed her drink and set it on the table.

"Know that if you keep asking about him the word will get around. He'll be glad to have one of his lapdogs take you up to his office so he can show you first hand. Never seen anyone more hateful of smoothskins than that one. Won't even fuck em'."

"Donn! Another round, good sir!" Aser bellowed at the bar, holding up her empty glass. He had a weird forced grin on his face, as if the alcohol hadn't qualm any nerves that she roused up by her question. Though sooner then she thought he make the look convincing and smiled at her, putting the glass down.

"This isn't Underworld, you need to be careful what you let loose out of that soft mouth of yours."

The drinks came - both set none-to-gently - hers spilling along the table and a few fingers. She eyed the bartender, a short but muscled ghoul who looked at her as if she was a pile of shit. The look almost made her suspicious of drinking the glass _set _down in front of her.

"Chill it Donn, smoothskin hasn't done anything to earn your prick-stare." Aser huffed a breath out his nose and he went to work on his third glass.

She kept her eyes locked, pride keeping her from leaving the staring match first. Donn, only sneered and turn away, leaving them both with a foul lingering fog of animosity.

Truthfully, if she'd been a man Aser would have given her the same look, more or less, so she was thankful she had tits and went to her drink. Whatever could get her by without a knife to the breastplate would be looked at in a positive light. No time to be picky.

"He may be a bit of a cunt, but he fixes a strong drink. None of that watered down shit for a friend of mine." Aser cracked a grin and winked at her. He'd already finished his glass, while she was taking her second sip. He was a booze hound, or maybe ghouls needed more. She honestly couldn't remember Charon ever getting drunk...or Gob, who never drank. Another frown came at the thought, so she tossed her glass back and downed the whole of its contents, getting a whistle of approval from Aser.

"That's a real woman for ya.", the grin in his voice almost offensively apparent.

The ghoul leaned back in his chair, watching her cheeks flush rosy with the booze. She had to admit, it was strong and she wasn't used to the stuff if it wasn't cut down at least by a third. Aser seemed to know this too, for he merely kept grinning at her, as if he'd scored an ace in the hole.

Her inhibitions started to leak out of her, and if it hadn't been for the mentat she'd popped earlier she had no doubt she'd be a slurry mess about now. Her stomached ached with a sweet warmth and the sides of her vision blurred in a euphoric afterglow. The smug smile on Aser's face seemed to cut into his mouth as far as his small mouth could stretch. She needed to ask, before she forgot why she was here.

"Do you know of anyone by the name of Charon?" She was surprised at how casual her question was, maybe the booze had helped more than hindered.

"Naw, no ghoulettes by that name. I'd remember." He still had that smile.

"No. He. _His_ name's Charon."

Aser's smile dropped at that, his eyes shifted and he fingered the lip of his dry glass. "A ghoul?"

She pressed her lips together, lowered her lids in a 'no-shit?' manner. Aser tilted his head down, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as if in thought. Her heart thudded between her ribs at a increasing tempo, anticipating his eventual response.

"Nope! Can't say I have."

She felt floored, "You sure?"

"Charon's a girls name anyways, I would remember a man by that name if I knew 'im." Aser gave her an intense look, one that made her back down without her even thinking about it. The whole conversation had been odd. His tone and how quickly he changed it. She wasn't convinced, but no way was she going to throw him more questions. So, she licked the taste of alcohol from her lips and smiled.

"Well then, how about you sell me one of those dirty magazines?"

"Baby, you don't need one of those with me around."

"Not for me." She put her four fingered hand down on the table, tapping her digits against the sticky metal. Aser watched her drumming, but gave her a curt nod before standing. He offered a hand to her, one she took as her other hand grabbed the strap of her pack.

Her pace was slow and steps uneven, but Aser seemed even more sturdy than when he'd escorted her to the bar. She couldn't tell the time, which she should have check before leaving the bar. Her Pip-boy was hidden in a innocuous flap inside her pack. Having it on would just have gotten her more stares and assumptions; things she didn't need more of.

Of all the things to have happened in the last few months, she had to admit, buying a smutty magazine from a equally smutty ghoul shot to the top of her list.

They stood in his shop now, him behind the counter as he was before and her with her stomach pressed into the edge of it, smirking at the seductive poses in front of her.

She flipped the pages with her now spit dampened thumb. The pages were wrinkled and some in more gross condition. No pussies or cocks though...just bare breasts, coy smiles and curved flesh.

"Nice tits...", she smirked and shut the magazine, stuffing it in her back pocket after rolling it up.

"I hope your not offended that I have a hard-on right now." Aser snickered at her across the counter, elbows planted and eyes glittering.

"I expected no less from you.", she leaned over the counter as well, tapping her middle finger on the cool linoleum, eyeing the counter behind him. "Would it be unfair to assume you'd sell me ammo?"

"For what gun?"

"I have some high caliber weapons nestled in a safe house a few miles away, no guns on me of course."

"Unless your hiding one somewhere no ghoul is allowed to grope..." He was witty, she'd give him that as well. No one could say he was a thick thinker.

She was about to open her mouth to retort but Aser's eyes widened, and he stepped back, elbows slipping off the counter to fall at his side like limp noodles.

He looked through her.

His tattered mouth thinned down and his bugged out eyes were unblinking. A shiver ran up her spine, feeling a presence enter the shop and judging by Aser's look it couldn't have been good, so she opted to not turn around yet.

Heavy sets of footsteps sounded behind her. The noise sounded forced, like who ever it was wanted her to hear them. Her knuckles drained of color while her grip on the counter tightened. A breath hit her neck for a second before a heavily armed ghoul stepped up to her side, pressing a hip into the counter to look at her.

The other ghoul she still felt behind her, but closer now.

The cold sweat came back, the warm buzz from the alcohol draining from her body the moment a gun behind her clicked, as if someone had removed the safety.

Her eyes shifted in her sockets, from the stock pile of assorted ammo to the guards face. No emotion shown on the ghoul, nothing but a thinned mouth and solid milky eyes. She was playing it cool until a strong grip landed on her shoulder, her body jumped and stiffened as the ghoul behind her yanked her back a few inches.

Her breath caught in her throat, watching the guard before her give her a small smirk before nodding to Aser who for all she knew hadn't moved a muscle from behind the counter.

"Keep your business and your mouth behind the counter Aser, the smoothskin doesn't need a personal tour."

She was pushed to the side, almost drug to the door by the unseen ghoul while the other stood where he was. "Doubt Cerberus would appreciate you mouthing off to her about anything...private." The word came out a growl, and Harriet couldn't help but feel a jolt of shame and guilt.

Out in the bright hallway she was pushed forward, jabs at her shoulders every time they deemed she was walking too slow. Her teeth grit together, every fiber of her being telling her to rebel against the harsh treatment, but this wasn't the place.

"Keep moving smoothskin." The one she had yet to see grumbled and poked the tip of a gun against her shoulder blade, pushing her forward. Her mouth salivated, her tongue thick in her mouth as she clenched her jaw back and forth. The pokes weren't just firm, they were meant to hurt her.

The red hue of the common room did little to ebb her growing rage as they pushed and stuck her, herding her like some brahmin to the slaughter.

A specific stab at a disk in her spine made her swerved without a second thought.

She clocked one of the ghouls under his jaw, spit flying out her mouth in a ragged growl. He stumbled back, falling as the other quickly put a strong scratchy arm around her throat, putting her in a very effective choke hold. She gagged, grabbing the arm out of instinct as he pushed her down into the floor.

Down, on the floor in the visually hellish room, with one ghoul at her throat and the other struggling with her bucking legs was not how she wanted someone to see her, but sure enough, with her vision blotchy from the lack of oxygen to her brain she saw the tall imposing figure in the dome window.

He was staring down at her as he had been before, arms behind his back and legs evenly spaced.

Spittle leaked from the side of her mouth, teeth bared while choking tears fell off the corner of her eyes as she stared up at the man in charge. _Cerberus_.

"Grab her legs properly you dumb-fuck!" The ghoul screamed at his partner, while he tightened his grip around her neck.

A weird, gurgling noise left her throat and soon the pressure in her head was too much. Her legs gave a few last lingering kicks, one landing in the ghouls gut before weakness set into her limbs and everything got heavy.

Her legs dropped, held in rough hands, as her hands fell from the arm bulging around her neck. The last thing she saw was the figure in the dome waver before leaving her view as the red faded into pitch black.


	2. Circle 2:hell's a state of mind

Second chapter. Wen't over this a couple times, so sorry if there are still some grammatical errors. If you review, and spotted some, let me know. Also, constructive criticism is always appreciated, especially when I go out on a limb like this. Kinda swimming in open waters with this story.

As always, enjoy!

edit: hotrockcandy beta'd this chapter for me, reads much smoother now! :)

* * *

It took awhile, he could see from up in the warm humid confines of his office. He could see them hoist her up under her limbs. The limp girl flopping in both the ghouls grasp several times.

He stood, body poised right in front of the dome window, watching their rough hands slip on her slick flesh. They struggled to get her through the now unlocked door and up the stairs that would eventually land them here, where he was.

His comrades sat where they'd been since he'd woken; sitting in chairs pulled up to his wide birthed desk, playing cards, smoking cigarettes and discussing what happened while he'd slept along with future plans for the night.

Right now they fell silent with just a glance from him, now exchanging cards with little chatter as he stood, watching the ghouls below dragging the smoothskin through the door and up the stairs. She didn't take too kindly to their persistent mistreatment and proved them both that she wasn't like every other girl they got in here. She had a good right hook on her too, he'd give her that.

With the dark red light of the common room, coupled with the distortion of the domes glass he could tell she was attractive. But, even though she was pretty - gorgeous even for a woman of the wastes - he had one rule, one that...most of the time no one broke: No smoothskin came in _Abyss_ without his approval.

Those guards had taken a badly weighted chance by ignoring protocol.

If they were to ever rise up against the Brotherhood then they needed to stop letting in every pretty face that waltzed up the tunnel. Who knew when - not if - but when the hoods would send in a spy.

Cerberus stood still, even though minutes had passed since the ghouls and the girl had vanished from view.

He had gotten little sleep. Woken hours before he normally would just to escape the unpleasantness that was slowly becoming a regular nuisance. Normally, he never dreamt, even when he was at his most miserable or happiest. Yet now he found himself sinking into disbarring nightmares every time he managed to get an air of sleep.

He motioned with a hand clasped behind his back to the men at his desk. They picked up their conversations again, throwing caps and bullets into a pile between them all.

Cerberus kept at the window, watching a few armored ghouls walk to the vents for a smoke break. He still had yet to figure out which guards it were that let the smoothskin inside, but he would find out soon enough...still though, the thought irked him and he felt a foul mood coming on - not that he was considered a cheerful ghoul anyways.

He stood still a moment longer, savoring the light feeling of just his leather pants and under shirt. Before he left his office he'd need to don the rest of his leather armor, but for now he could enjoy the tickle of the air along his arms and through his shirt. It was all about the little things, the small pleasures that got a man by; specifically that got a ghoul by.

There had been something about the smoothskin, something familiar.

As soon as he thought about the wench he pushed her away. They were all the same, always would be and the last thing he needed to do was be rapt by one again. All he really needed was his abhorrence for the rest of humanity, a rage that almost every single ghoul in _Abyss_ shared.

He smirked, surveying the crowd of ghouls that flooded the common room. It was the normal time that many left the bars for their upcoming shift, or flocked to the bar as their shift ended.

His fingers itched for his own gun, watching as the ghouls walked along with their meticulously cared for weapons, all shrouded in the red glow.

Happiness was a warm gun, particularly your gun.

He let everyone know it was all they needed: a plan, hate and their gun. The rest was just a bonus.

His door opened, breaking his train of thought, but he didn't move yet. Regardless of whether he admitted it or not - which he wouldn't - he was intrigued by the smoothskin...but he wouldn't turn from his observation too quickly. He didn't want anyone getting a whiff of his curiosity.

Staring down, but not truly looking, he heard footsteps bound closer. The footfalls he knew, so it was anything but a surprised when the familiar dark ghoul came into his peripherals.

Gwyn came up to his side, looking at him and to the ghouls crowded down below. His right-hand paused briefly before looking back up at him.

"She's here; still unconscious. Where do you want them to put her?" Gwyn's voice was always even and to the point, but Cerberus could hear a little waver at the end of his words.

"Just put her on the floor..." he honestly didn't care, as long as they didn't contaminate his bed with her.

Gwyb nodded his head once and then fell out of sight. Cerberus turned to the side, but gave the window a last lingering look as Gwyn told the ghouls to drop her. A soft thud told him they had done just that, and it was then that Cerberus tore himself from his window to look back at the scene his office had become.

"Hey, the smoothskin bought one of Aser's nudey mags." A ghoul spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Didn't think girls liked those..", another voice.

No one was betting on cards anymore, the small heap of caps, bullets and bobby pins completely ignored and forgotten. It was uncharacteristic of them to just leave their game like that.

"Only the weird ones, which are also the best ones," another voice that ended in a crusty chuckle.

Suddenly the scene of all his men surrounding the lump of smoothskin, looking down with cigarettes near falling from their lips and staring from her to the dirty magazine gripped in a ghoul's hands pissed him off.

"What the fuck do you all think this is? A pony show?" Most of the ghouls got his reference; almost half of the population were pre-war ghouls. They looked up immediately and backed up from the girl, making a way for him as Cerberus stepped forward. No one wanted to fuck with him, even if he wasn't the heartless leader many thought he was.

The girl had been laid on her back, arms close to her sides and legs only partially bent. Her hair; however, was splayed every which way, over her face, out along the floor, haloing her head and stuck in her clothes. She was a mess and he almost swore he could smell the dirt clinging to her. If he let her stay; his first order would be for her to bathe...immediately.

He gave her a quick once over, starting with the notion that it was just to judge her level of threat, but he stopped at her bare thigh...

Something...was not right...with that thigh...

Suddenly a surreal feeling encompassed him, as if the structure of his surroundings weren't so sound anymore...and it was all because of two sloppy crescent shaped scars. He'd given Harriet scars like that when they'd first...

His mind trailed off...back to a very hot…filthy trailer where he'd given into her. He could remember it like it was the other day. How her exposed legs felt in his hands when he squeezed her flesh; the moment when he plunged inside her, squeezing her thighs so hard his nails dug into the skin just from the sheer tightness of her.

That was it.

He couldn't hide the look of bemusement from his face. He remembered how she dotingly wiped the blood from her skin, even coaxed the little wounds to scar up just so he could leave a mark on her. It sounded fucked up when he thought about it, but that was just how she was...and he'd be a liar if he said it didn't make him love her then.

Quickly he planted a sneer on his face, not looking at the others around him. He knew they noticed something was off.

He reassured himself the scar could just be coincidence. He ignored them, if nothing else then to just get through until he could be alone...away from the involuntary critical eyes of his men.

"Move her hair out of her face." His voice was thick, but he managed to remove anything evident from his tone.

As far as everyone knew he'd never interacted with smoothskins unless he had to, not even just for trivial sexual release, and it needed to stay that way.

One of the ghouls who'd brought her in, a clumsy but enthusiastic younger ghoul named Eugene, leaned down and pulled some of the knotted strands from her face. The ghoul tried not to touch her, maybe even sensing Cerberus' affinity for the girl; Eugene was peculiar like that, knowing by just the smallest traces of body language what was going on.

Cerberus stood where he was, boots planted to secure his stance if the worst should show itself...and sure enough it did.

It was her.

Not a day older, maybe more unbreakable and mature looking but besides that...the same as he'd last seen her. It was careless of him to have thought he had seen the last of her.

When he'd left, he had plans of going as far away west as he could, but never made it far, and it looked like she hadn't made it that far either.

It took him a while to notice the awaiting silence that had filled the room. Gwyn was looking at him with pointed suspicion, where as the rest of the ghouls watched in what looked like puzzlement, glancing from the smoothskin to their leader. Had he let his facade drop that much? He lifted his mouth up, feeling how far the corners of his mouth had sunk.

Eugene still knelt down by her, looking up at him, probably the only mild mannered one that wasn't second guessing him just by the look on his face.

Quickly Cerberus leveled his shoulders, displacing an audible sound of tension from between the joints, as he stood to his full height. He stared at the seven ghouls before him, his eyes now deadpanned.

"Everyone is excused; the meeting can start again at nine. Make sure you all bring the maps, and tell Cora to check on the hounds..." He gestured with a tilt of his head to Gwyn.

When everyone just exchanged glances, Cerberus hunched his head down, shoulders broad as he emitted a low growl.

"Now."

They all took a step back, paused and turned to the door, filing out one at a time.

Gwyn was the last.

The dark ghoul turned, sparing Cerberus a glance. They locked eyes, a sort of cautious understanding passing between them. Gwyn had always been his second in command; an ex-slave like himself that'd been with him from the start, one that got things done and did it with a certain pitiless intellect. If Cerberus died, Gwyn would be the perfect one to finish righting the wrongs done to all of them. So Gwyn gave Cerberus a nod, stealing one last look to the crumpled smoothskin on the floor before disappearing behind the closing door.

When the door sealed, the red light flickering on above its frame, Cerberus was left alone. Besides Harriet on the floor he was all that remained. The clock read six oh'two; plenty of time to wait for her to awaken.

Just looking at her made some old breathless feeling catch in his throat, especially when he noticed the absence of one finger on her hand.

He opted to look elsewhere.

Already he felt bad, and she wasn't even awake yet. Already he was beginning to regret discharging everyone so he could be left alone with her.

Maybe he should move her to his cot. If she woke up on the floor, what would she think? Well, either way her mood wouldn't be joyful, but he realized that waking up on a bed as opposed to the cold floor was probably better.

When he came to agreement he was still left with how to move her. If she found out he'd touched her while she was asleep, how would she react? Probably not well...They hadn't parted on good terms; hateful ones in fact. The last thing she'd want would be his hands on any part of her. He could on the other hand, lie and tell her that Eugene and his partner Carter were the ones to do it, but they already had too many lies marking their history and to add new ones, however small, made him feel perverted.

So he circled her, much like a hawk over a dead carcass, staking out the most yeiling corner of skin.

She was out cold.

He stepped with his feet to the side, never turning away from her, examining every little thing that had changed. Though the more he looked, the more he felt like he was sitting down in that swivel chair all those years ago, panting and out of breath from what he'd witnessed. She'd told him it wasn't what it'd looked liked...wasn't what he'd thought.

He stopped, standing just a foot from the right side of her body, the side that was twisted away from him.

The memory came back like a punch to the face.

He was right back there, watching her dirty tear stained face, hoping she was being truthful but knowing that it was her word against a dead man's.

If he closed his eyes he could still smell the iron tang of spilled blood. He had killed that man, the trader, the one that was between her legs when he'd found them. She'd told him she hadn't wanted it, that he'd caught her off guard...but he'd never known her to be one to get caught so easily, especially by some skinny trader that already had a habit of hanging around her too often.

Sometimes the looks on her face, when he himself settled between her legs, were up for grabs. She could either be in the throes of ecstasy or distressing pain, they looked the same. So when she'd begged him to trust her; ask himself if he truly thought she'd do something like that to him...his mind said yes. Why not? It was too good to be true to have her want only him, sooner or later, she had to have craved flesh as smooth as hers right?

It wasn't like he could ask the trader, even if he had been alive, the bastard would have lied as much as she.

He had told her he believed her then, but nothing had been the same. He hadn't known how violated women acted, so her reluctance over his advances bemused him...frustrated him. She'd awakened a primal urgency inside him, one that she'd started denying him after that incident, and for once the slaughter of humans didn't release the tension. She'd programmed him to only heal by her will alone. He'd come to depend on her for what little sanity he had.

The sickness after that had been the worst of it; the vomiting and the fever, how helpless he'd felt to protect her. He couldn't have even kept the man who'd caused it away, let alone the child that had started growing inside her.

He'd left her when she'd started to show, after her belly had swollen past her armors capacity.

One night, he just left her, still half asleep in Rivet City. At the time he'd felt nothing but anger, and relief after he'd left the creaking ship...and since now...

Since now...now that he was standing over her, actually seeing that she was alive and alone, made his heart ache. It was the same ache he felt when he had convinced himself she didn't love him anymore. He wasn't anyone that deserved it; her love, and he definitely didn't deserve it now...yet she'd given it to him then and he'd gotten soft; let his guard down.

He was a ghoul, a man, and as much as he didn't want to admit it he loved her...maybe even more than she loved him.

But that afternoon all those years ago, when he saw her mouth parted and eyes half closed underneath that man, something in him died again; the part that only had eyes for her.

So he stood still, stiff as any living breathing thing could while the worst of their shared memories resurfaced. He relived that time: his shame, guilt, anger...and heartache. All the while she lay on the floor, breath moving her chest up and down in steady motions.

She looked beautiful just as he remembered...

...and it was then that Cerberus felt like Charon again.

* * *

Things started to focus only after she'd regained consciousness for a minute or so. Her eyes still hadn't opened, almost unable to with the pulsing inside her skull.

She'd been choked unconscious before, and it was the same thing every time she awoke from such an assault. The feeling was akin to a rush of water filling her head, except with her understanding of medicine it was more than likely just leftover pressure from when the ghoul had released her after she'd passed out; when all the oxygen refreshed her starving brain at once.

Red pulsed in front of her tight eyes. Wherever she was, the room was brighter than the sheen of the common room. Instead of seeing safe blackness when her eyes were closed she saw a growing intensity of red. Thoughts poured in, recent memories of what exactly happened; details that explained to her where she was, even before she opened her eyes. It was a room she was in, more probable in that it was the large black figure's room.

Cerberus...

Opening her eyes had been more tasking than she thought, the light and the weakness of her every muscle didn't help.

When that slit of first bright vision reflected off her iris immediately she shut it out...back to the red darkness behind her lids. Her head started to swim, so she evened out the feeling with the very real feel of her fingers curling around coarse fabric. Fabric...

She turned her head, the redness darkening and it was then she shot her eyes open.

It was a wall.

She stared at a cobalt metal wall. The border that sectioned around the mid level of the wall was only a foot above where she was staring. She was on something. Her fingers ran against the scratchy material under her. The fibers tickled the backs of her knees and rubbed along her arms. It had to have been a bed.

Water pooled against the creases of her eye lids, trying to dampen the eyes she had yet to shut ever since opening them. Still wide, and unblinking, she turned her gaze around, seeing a ceiling above her. The metal above her was low, not low enough to touch at her short reach but low enough for a larger person to. What had probably once been an untarnished surface was now littered with hundreds of tally marks; all picked into the metal with some blunt thin object. There were hundreds...maybe close to a thousand of them, trailing up from a ways back to past where her eyes could reach without craning her neck.

"Kills.."

When the word came out it sounded like nothing; a croak...a cough. Her throat retaliated from the air and vibration it took to attempt the syllable. The tight pain reminded her of how she ended up in this bed, and that lead to the understandable emotion of anger. It hadn't been the worst way she'd ever been treated in her life, many others stacked higher on that list, but it didn't mean she passed things like this off. She still had qualms over a ghoul putting her in a head lock.

She rolled her shoulder, trying to find the bruise she knew the butt of the ghoul's gun had caused, but she couldn't feel it with the pain building around her neck. One pain for another pain...

A swooping click; the sound of a gun reloading echoed in the room to her right. She turned sharply, just as the sound stopped ringing in her ears.

There was a desk, long even at this angle, and the large imposing back of a ghoul. Considering the state of every other person in this place, he was rather underdressed. The patchy skin and muscle showed its shape even under the thin black shirt. The ghoul was hunched, head hung low under his shoulders. Under the legs of his chair she could see the hilt of a weapon barely grazing the floor. His shoulders jarred up and down, an elbow coming into view when he started moving something in front of him.

The gesture was familiar, ominous even, and for the briefest of moments it felt like she was home. The feeling wasn't as pleasant as she'd expected it to be, but that didn't stop her from losing herself in it. Languidly she closed her eyes, remembering the hurt, but most of all the tormenting affection she shared with...

Cerberus was staring at her when she opened her eyes, and for the first few seconds Cerberus was still there. Then it was Charon.

She saw Charon, staring at her from his side, still hunched with the same shotgun resting between his legs. Out of all the things she knew she ought to be feeling; the first was to wonder why they were alone. Cards were set down, hands of un-played pairs scattered down the desk with a pile of goodies in between. Ashtrays overflew with cigarette butts and half smoked rolls. There had been a group of ghouls here at one point…and now it was just them.

Whatever she hoped to have felt when she found him, she wasn't feeling it now - in fact she had almost an absence of emotion as she looked at the withheld expression on his face. If anyone could make her feel worthless and small it would have been Charon, and kudos for him doing just that right now. It was as if he never left that day, and they were back at square one.

The staring continued, her eyes drying and itching the more she refused to blink, he had yet to...so she wouldn't either.

"How are you feeling?"

Honestly, it wasn't the last thing she expected him to say, but that didn't mean she was ready for him to say it.

Her throat felt full, as if she had something stuck right where she brought her voice from. Even if she could have answered him she wouldn't know exactly what to say. It had been almost eight years and after all this time she hadn't thought about what she wanted to say to him...just knew she wanted the chance to.

So she blinked a slow answering blink that he nodded at.

When she opened her eyes again he was pushing out of his chair. The large shotgun was set on the desk delicately, much like a lover. His back turned to her, walking away down the end of the desk. She took the opportunity to sit up, quick and accurately, pressing her back to the wall. Her legs crossed, hands clasped in her lap to keep her skirt down.

She fixated her gaze back to him as he turned with a bottle of dirty water in one massive hand.

For a moment she was daunted, as he stepped closer to her, water sloshing around in the half full bottle...then he paused at the edge of the desk. With eyes locked on hers, mouth straight and brow rutted.

He set the bottle on the edge of his desk.

The gesture was clear. If she wanted the hydration she needed to get up and get it herself.

So she did.

With a hard stare, eyes never breaking their contact with his, she rose. Slow and careful, she walked towards him, the man she'd spent the past eight years wanting and hating, and the last three trying to find. Each step, she waited for some emotion to cross his face, hoping the closer she got the more he'd be unable to keep the expression concealed.

No luck.

The water was in her hand, and she stood not a foot away from him...still nothing.

The only thing telling her he was even alive was the heat radiating off of him, besides that he could have been a statue for all she knew. The whole scenario made her lips curl, resentment threading out into the fingers grasping the bottle. The plastic crunched under the pressure of her fist, knuckles fading into a bloodless white.

Then she was being dragged; rough hands on her arms, water bottle falling and body being throw on the cluttered desk.

She screamed, shocked, but the sound only made it half way out before a hot almost-forgotten mouth covered hers. In half a second his lips were all over her face, plucking against her lips and running rough caresses against her chin and cheeks. Her eyes stared ahead, face almost paralyzed in the conflict of what to do. Pressed down on Charon's desk, in the ghoul city he lead, the water bottle still rolling on the floor as he attacked her just like Tumble Jack had.

Was this a test? - a lesson from all those years ago when he'd stopped looking at her as a lover and more as an outlet for his frustration?

A sloppy bite against the side of her mouth took her from her thoughts and put her back in the present. Regardless of what this was she wouldn't let him give it to her that easily. Even though she didn't know exactly what she had wanted when she finally found him, this certainly wasn't it.

His grip was loose on her shoulders, paying more attention to what he was doing to her mouth; trying his hardest to push his tongue between her lips. When one of his hands came up to grab her cheek, leaving her shoulder free, she slugged him right across the face. Thank god for _Boxing Times._

His mouth flew from hers, head turning with a sick snap. He couldn't have forgotten how hard she hit, and if he did then that was his goddamn fault for acting on impulse.

"Fucking animal!"

She sat upright, as soon as he'd stumbled off to the side, bracing along the desk. She lifted a leg, thrusting him back with a foot in his chest. Her lips stung, wet and cracked from his abuse.

He stumbled back but hadn't moved since, just hunched over, blown back by her attack with his head hung low. The black shirt rippled against the divots along his chest and shoulders as he inhaled sharply. Finally his head turned, further away from her.

"What…are you doing here? – why come all this way west?" Despite the way he looked, he sounded as if he hadn't just been pushed off her for breaking the skin of her lips.

"What the hell!...what? - you gonna fucking ask me that after you just tipped the bucket?" She sneered, lapping off the blood from her upper lip with a cold demeanor.

Quickly she slid off the desk, back stepping to the fallen water bottle. Without taking her eyes off his avoiding gaze she plucked up the bottle and un-caped it with an unappealing _fizz._ Water shouldn't make that noise...ever.

"I should be asking you what you're doing here, or what that little welcome-mat downstairs was all about? Or what ever the fuck this was!" She yelled, pointing the water bottle to her face with an air of immature cruelty even _she_ regretted. "Couldn't just approach me like a fucking adult? – and then I fucking wake up, and…what the…hell!"

He growled, even before she'd stopped talking, and leapt from the desk after her. He was always quick for his size, she couldn't forget that...but maybe she had after all these years. She shifted, expecting for him to slide past her as he went to grapple her.

He hit her dead on.

Never had Charon smacked her, or attacked her...so truthfully she didn't expect him to do any of those things either...but a seconds worth of anticipation didn't help her to brace against the hard slap. It didn't feel like he held back, not when her ass was banging down on the floor and her hearing was buzzing where his palm had pushed the air into her middle ear.

All of the things she'd been thinking about before she saw him went out her mind as soon as she hit the floor; nothing but resentment, bad memories, and most of all the pain burning up along the right side of her face. He'd never hit her before...never, and now she stood like some beaten worthless bitch on the fucking floor. He was close, looking down at her with one fist curled and the other poised.

He stood like that for awhile, ready to beat her, but he didn't move. So she scooted back, knees lifting to her chest as she gave herself a safe distance away. The pain wasn't as bad as the feeling of weakness; that just a slap from him could knock her down. All those time she thought she was equal to him, maybe not in strength but in evened out attributes, were X'ed out.

Now she sat, palms down by her and knees held up like some meek little squirrel. She felt sick with herself, him and all the nausea of the past. She wanted to run, bolt and never look back. Just forget about him and all the things he ever did to her; good and bad.

* * *

It was one wrong move after the next.

What would he end up doing next? - taking her on the floor, beating her skull till it went soft, or could he just mutter an apology and start over from the beginning? He'd made one mistake after the next; kissing her and then hitting her.

He'd given himself a run down after he'd moved her, after his hands itched from the feel of her skin.

Immediately he'd been flooded with all the pent up hormones he'd ignored all these years. Never once had he taken anyone, not a ghoul and not another smoothskin. So he just forgot he had a dick. It was something he'd done before he met her...and after the first year it hadn't been an issue. But he'd touched her, and it all came back. He felt the weight of her body against him and something just kept building, growing and threatening.

Maybe slapping her had been another _convoluted_ way of touching her.

She'd pushed him away when he'd kissed her, and if she hadn't he would have fucked her right there on his desk, no thoughts or concerns. He would have just ripped off whatever was in his way and reminded himself of what it felt like to be with her. None of the reasons for _why not_ that he'd given himself as she slept help him any. As soon as he'd found she was awake any formal thoughts of catching up had faded, replaced with a running plan to get her close to him. Close enough so he could grab her and do just what he shouldn't have.

But he'd hit her, struck her after being told off for jumping her like she was some _Abyss_ whore. Why couldn't he have just said, "hello, it's good to see you again" followed by an extensive apology for all the fuck ups he'd made.

She was looking up at him, with a look he'd seen in the faces of women he'd killed, but never on her. Perhaps, walking out on her when she'd needed him most wasn't what broke her image of him. Maybe before he hit her, he'd had a chance to make it up to her, even after he busted her lips with his. Now though, as he stood over her, fist still in the air, any hope of that was gone.

Quickly he lowered his curled hand. She flinched seeing the action and it finally made his body churn like his mind had been.

He was going to be sick..

Bile rose in his throat, threatening to spill. He locked his jaw and swallowed the noxious liquid, burning back down his throat.

"You still think I wanted Jack...don't you. After all this fucking time Charon." She spat out his name and the bile rose back up, "...are you really that fucking insecure..." It hadn't been a question, and he understood.

"No." It was a lie, but he wasn't about to agree with her. She knew he wouldn't admit it anyways. Things may have changed with them, between them, and around them but in the end they were still the same as they'd always been. She was still optimistic and brutal while he was...still just brutal.

Commotion sounded meters away, through steel walls; reverberating under their feet and over their heads. It wasn't time yet, was it? He cocked his head up. The clock read eight forty nine. They were early and getting closer. A mild wave of panic settled down as Charon looked back at her; fallen but accusing.

"Get up."

She did, to his part surprise as multiple footfalls paused behind his door. They wouldn't come in without his approval, even if the door had been unlocked. They both exchanged sour glances, hers almost worse than his as she side-stepped around him to take a seat at the far end of the desk. There would be no doubt to anyone that she was purposefully avoiding him by sitting that far away, but he didn't have time for this right now. She'd managed to end up in _Abyss_ at the worst time. She always knew how to cause a stir, but… so did he.

Charon felt her eyes follow him as he slammed a palm on the red button, turning the light above the door green.

"It's open.", he spoke over the constant dings and creaks of the Vault just as he was saddling up behind his desk. Out the corner of his eyes he could see Harriet staring at him, as if he wasn't Charon anymore to her but Cerberus. Malice hung in her own bright eyes as the crowd of ghouls stepped inside. For now, he would gladly be Cerberus, if anything but to escape his association with her for just the moment.

All eyes turned to her; with her elbows on the table, arms clasped in her hands with her head turned off to the wall, hiding the red welt along her face. She was the picture perfect example of calm boredom. It was as if she wasn't milking a growing black eye, or a hurt heart.

Suddenly he felt sick again, the unfamiliar nausea returning just as Gwyn stepped forward from behind two ghouls.

Gwyn only gave Harriet a two second glance before unrolling wrinkled floor plans and area maps along the desk. Two more ghouls dropped countless other much more ruined looking maps next to the others. One tumbled towards the ground before Cerberus grabbed it, shook it so it unrolled with one hand. It was a useless map, one of a repair store about two miles from where they assumed the hoods armory was.

"Put this one somewhere close by, it's not important for now..."

A ghoul, Apep, grabbed the map from his hand and rushed out the door; tasked and ready to finish it.

Gwyn stood across from Cerberus, expression serious as ever.

"One of those traders from last month, that one with the dead eye, sold this one to Aser. Old pre-war bunker from the fifties, not far, about twelve miles...south east from here." Gwyn unraveled a blue floor plan, running a skinny finger around a highlighted square as the rest of them took a seat at the desk, though they all avoided the chair by Harriet who was still looking off along the wall, counting every hairline fracture no doubt. Cerberus looked away from her the moment he realized he was staring. Gwyn had paused, finger still on the map. He looked at the girl as well before turning his glance back up to Cerberus.

"It may be the right place to harbor some more weapons, if it hasn't been looted already."

Harriet's head turned quickly, the motion catching most of the ghoul's attentions, including Cerberus'. Her eyes were wider, white haloing each iris. Something had procured her interest and he wondered for a second whether he should ask or just assume. The bunker, he thought...she knew something about it.

"Care to share?" Cerberus stared at her, and for a second her face betrayed everything they were to each other, but it faded into a cold facade. If he concentrated, he could just make out the purpling under her left eye.

Her nose twitched and he knew then she was about to lie. "No." Her voice seethed and he found the tone much more annoying than he thought he would. Gwyn was already eyeing the both of them, and her wavering facade was loosening the more she glared at him.

At that moment the door opened, screeching like it did on occasion. Cora came in, eyes bee-lining on Harriet. The half-ghoul woman's lips curled; an amused look before standing straight shouldered about five feet from his desk. She was right on time. The clock read nine o'clock, never was she one too come late or too early, not like the rest of them.

"Gwyn said you may want me for the meeting." Her eyes never left Cerberus', even as she gestured to the dark ghoul currently hunched over the desk with a hand on the floor plans. Where as the rest of them were casual around him, Cora always maintained a stiff formal air with him, it wasn't expected but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it.

"The hounds?" Cerberus questioned.

She looked confused for a second, something rarely seen on her. She was about to speak but he clarified, "Gwyn's going to send out a patrol to an old bunker; weapons, ammo…workable metals. Need you to spare some of your time and your hounds."

"Of course, ready when you are….as always, Cerberus." Her fading green eyes were cast past Cerberus, to the whiteness on the wall where once a picture hung.

"Gwyn. Follow Cora down to the reactor, get...Samael and anyone else who isn't on outside guard duty."

Even though Gwyn looked pleased that his proposed idea had turned into a full plan, the glimmer in his eyes burnt out the moment he mentioned Samael. Cerberus knew how much Gwyn distrusted the other ghoul, but there was no doubt the man-child could handle his weaponry.

"Why Samael?"

Cerberus looked to Gwyn, mouth thinned down in a straight line.

"I said so, thats why."

The dark ghoul stared, only breaking that hollow eye contact too walk out the door following Cora, who Cerberus witnessed give a small smile to Harriet. The smoothskin returned the gesture along with a very small wave of two fingers from her arm. When had they met? For some reason the small gesture fitted a sense of betrayal in his chest. Who else had she befriended since she'd been here?

In a matter of minutes, Cerberus had finished with the rest of them, deciding on what to do with an old fortification built up in the mountains a few kilometers back from _Abyss'_ entrance. It was surmised that in case of a head-on attack they could utilize the area to fend it off for enough time from there while they got their shit together. They still needed more weapons and he'd agreed, but that infiltrating the hoods armory could cost them too much ammo...not to mention the possibility of casualties.

When the last ghoul disappeared around the corner, and once again the door screeched he was left alone with her; with Harriet.

He decided to keep up his front; remain Cerberus for just a little longer as he turned to her. She wasn't looking at him - was in fact fishing around in an ashtray for a half smoked roll. He could tell she was avoiding his gaze, purposefully spending more time in the ashtray than necessary. Even when he left his perch, stepping closer to her, her eyes shifted a second before roaming over the scratched surface under her elbows. One of her hands reached to her back pocket, eyes widening.

"I believe it was Eugene who took your pornography."

Her lips fell into a frown, and her nose did that little twitch it always did when she was about to lie. "I was looking for my lighter."

He had his own out so quick she made a strangled noise just as she'd pressed the half smoked roll to her lips. The old zippo burst with fire as he scratched the thumbwheel, sparking the flint and lighting the wick all as he flipped the cap open.

He watched her, face lightly illuminated by the wiggling flame. For a moment he thought she may ignore the offer; go without a smoke, but as the seconds went by she made a soft grumble before leaning forward to puff up the flame into the roll. Smoke billowed out her nose and corners of her mouth, climbing up to him and the ceiling in a slow haze.

With another flick the lighter closed and he pressed into his back pocket before taking the chair directly in front of her. She had her arms crossed again, cigarette fuming against her elbow as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. Her face wasn't in front of his and he understood why.

"What's in that bunker?"

He didn't offer her a fresh smoke as he removed a pack of cigarettes from a drawer behind him, just lit up his own with that same snap of his wrist.

She took a long slow drag, watching him through squinted eyes. "Hell if I know."

With the smoke blanketing the air between them it was getting harder to notice the purple growing under that eye. The sight that had made him nauseous before wasn't having the same effect on him anymore, partly due to the fact that he wasn't reminded of it with such visual acuity.

He'd given her many bruises, but never had they been out of anger...so seeing that one on her, how it developed wasn't stirring the possessive affections it used to. He was glad it wasn't apparent right now.

"What. Is. In. That. Bunker." He knew if he hadn't attacked her; hadn't hit her she wouldn't be holding this intel from him. She was pissed, as she should be, but it didn't make him any less agitated or short tempered. He needed to know now before he sent anyone out there. For all he knew she knew it was wired, or hell she could have been the one to booby-trap the place.

He had expected her to keep playing her game, rile him up more for a small semblance of payback, but she surprised him.

"My weapons." He stopped short of a drag on his cigarette, turning his fallen gaze to her. She was smirking, blowing out more smoke in his face. He closed his eyes, exhaled the smoke away from him with a beastly noise. She just gave him the closest thing to a laugh someone could have made with just a grunt. Her eyes glimmered, as if she'd won some sort of jackpot.

Knowing her; there could have been heaps of ammo, weapons, metals and medicine just barricaded down in that bunker. A high drug like feeling came over him. Satisfaction. She saw it and frowned.

"What happened to your finger?" He was curious, but he also felt the slight change in air between them. By the look on her face, she realized it too, but maybe wasn't on the same page with him yet on where it needed to progress. It was still unpleasant, forced and awkward, but it was changing. All he wanted was to urge it on...maybe go back to being Charon until he had to be Cerberus again. If anyone could bring it out in him it would be her.

"None of your fucking business." She became hostile, teeth clenched as she rubbed the still burning roll right out on his desk, "Look if you want to pretend like nothing happened - fine by me, but don't make polite conversation while I've got a goddamn headache cause of you. They're yours it you want them, all except the loot in the locker. The rest can go to your lost cause."

She stood, chair scraping along the metal in an ear splitting whine. The only thing that betrayed her anger now was her eyes; angry frown gone and replaced with a fake smile. "I'm going for a drink."

Cerberus sat still, watching her with his cigarette ashing by the inches between his scarred fingers. He didn't have time to feel much at her words before she turned around, that fake grin still there as she slapped him across the face.

He expected it; needed it, and when his head didn't turn at her assault she gave him another one. They stung but it was her hate that stung the worst. He told himself he didn't feel it, but it was still there despite his denial.

"...I assume I won't be strangled again..."

"You assumed right." He pushed his voice out, even with every syllable. It was the hardest thing he'd had to do since he saw her.

She left seconds after that, leaving him with his face still stinging, but not with pain as much as the lingering trace of her skin on what he had left of his.

He was left alone in his office, one that had been someone else's, and someone else's...and so on.

He wondered for the first time what else had happened in this office before he set foot in it. Had other women slapped their ex-lovers, had men hit their girls or fucked them on this desk?

It was one of the worst feelings he'd felt in a long while; worse than blisters, broken bones, and gun shot wounds...worse than any torment anyone had ever caused him. She was back, and something good had been so close to him he could taste it, and yet he gave into the worst side of himself; the side that evolved the day he left her.

So now he sat, alone, head in his hands as he finally let it all crash down; the rape, the baby, his mistakes then and his mistakes now. The weight of it all sank in, and with it the plans to make it all better.

"Harriet..."


	3. Circle 3:hell's other people

Third chapter up. Sorry for such a long delay in updates, as well as everything else I'm working on. Had the flu, which everyone else seems to be getting.

Enjoy this one, working on a few other chapters for my other stories, expect more soon.

* * *

The vodka and nuka was just as strong as the whiskey had been earlier that day, and it only took two to make her chest as red as her face.

Aser had declined her offer for a drink, no doubt spooked from what transpired earlier. He must have heard about what happened moments after, or seen it himself for all she knew. Her memory was a bit foggy in the moments that occurred a few minutes before she'd blacked out.

Now she sat, legs perched off a barstool at the counter with Donn glaring down at her. He hadn't refused her a drink, she had the caps after all, and Aser seemed to have helped her reputation with the unpleasant ghoul. Bringing a drink back for the trader sounded like a proper thank you. If she couldn't have gotten a drink right now she may have started slamming her head in a door.

She had attempted a half drunken conversion with Donn, but she got no more than a shoulder reply. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement. It was as if she was a trash can he just kept pouring booze into; one that paid.

It didn't take much more for her to feel that tipping point, between sick and drunk, and it was then that, with that dizzy-off-the-floor-sensation, she felt someone close behind. She turned, chin behind her shoulder to see Cora's half flaking face. The ghoul woman didn't look pleased, eyes half faded with a shimmer of curiosity.

Harriet didn't do much but waver a fraction under the ghoul woman's gaze. The staring went on longer than it should have, Donn walking to their side of the bar. She could see him out the side of her vision, watching with a half cleaned glass in one hand.

"Yes?", Harriet spoke first, insulted like only a drunk with the wrong impression could be.

Cora didn't answer, but took the stool besides her with a grace you'd see from a lady, not a gun-totting ghoul. Harriet stared, unabashed. She thought of drinking the rest of her drink, but when she saw the brown liquid, sweating in its glass she thought better of it. The conversation was already doomed with the intoxication and hatred swimming throughout her veins, adding more would just be like pouring it on a fire.

When a glass of straight scotch was set before Cora, Harriet wondered if she'd even asked for it. Then she hung her head, idiocracy filling her. Of course Donn knew what the woman order, it wasn't like the woman didn't live, eat, shit and sleep here right?

The tension was palpable, even with the alcohol still running strong. Cora drank silently, staring ahead of her with one elbow on the counter. Was she going to speak? Had she already and she'd missed it in her stupor?

"Did you say something?", she asked before she could think not too.

"Not yet.", her tone was dead besides a hint of a threat. Cora was going to speak at some point so why the rush. It wasn't like Harriet had anything better to do than drink, sleep and leave as soon as the eventual hangover was gone.

So they sat, side by side, one drinking and the other trying to forget she'd even drank. It went on like this for several minutes, none of them looking at the other or speaking. Donn was pretending not to notice whatever it was that he was witness to; idly scrubbing a discolored piece of cloth over a glass that had to have been clean by now. Maybe if she cupped her ear she could hear the constant squeak of its spotless shine. The idea of her leaning in – comically - with an anticipating look over her face almost made her crack a smile.

Some of the harsh buzz was gone, slowly lowering her into a state of pleasant euphoria. Normally she knew when to stop at this point of intoxication, but with these uncut drinks her math just couldn't keep up...besides, it tasted like she always knew alcohol should have.

Now, just as she felt able to hold a conversation Cora decided to speak; it was one of the only things that went right today. Charon always did call her a lucky bitch…ironic now that simple happenstances like this were considered lucky for her, once upon a time it had been bullets grazing past her cheek.

"I heard most of those weapons in that bunker are yours." It was a statement, so she nodded; shifting a gaze to the ghoul that told her she had her attention.

"Anything you should tell me about it?" Donn set another half full glass of scotch a few inches from her thinning uncurled fingers. Cora didn't drink it, was waiting for a reply.

"The bunker?"

"Yess...", Cora's voice came out annoyed.

"Nothing those floor plans won't tell you. Could be more Raiders there...", she turned pushing her drink away when the urge to drink more crept up, "...didn't know if that was there rendezvous or not when I killed them. They weren't much to write home about though, anyways..."

"I can handle Raiders, its hoods we're worried about, or a Deathclaw." She could tell by the ghouls tone that she wasn't speaking figuratively, but based on experience.

Harriet stard into her drink again, watching a a dirty ice cube slipped further into the liquid. "Who told you about this?" She asked just to fill the silence.

"Doesn't matter."

As she sat, elbows now flushed on the counter, she wondered how many of them had lost friends to the sadistic hulking humans. The thought almost made her withdraw, curl into herself as if she'd had part in their slaughter; it was the booze melding with her emotions, that and the hormones increasing towards the end of this month...possibly even due part to the man responsible for her now puffy upper lip. She grazed her tongue over the small break in her skin. It tasted good; bitter and tangy.

"You know where it is.", another statement. "Did you ever think about tagging along..." Cora trailed off and for a second the hint of a girlish tone crept up in her scratching voice, "...getting your gun personally."

Harriet stared, at nothing in particular as she listened.

"You don't really trust a ghoul with your baby do you?"

Harriet took two full seconds to panic, then...the realization that the she was talking about her gun sank in. The double meaning still tickled when she gave a forced shrugged. "No, I can't say I trust anyone with it, ghouls included."

No matter how trustworthy they seemed.

"We never gathered a fourth you know." Cora downed what was left of her drink, almost three/fourths of the original amount. It was impressive to say the least, especially since all the ghoul did was smack those still fleshy lips and give a faint smirk. The look was contagious, dangerously so, and Harriet couldn't hold down the lift one side of her mouth gave.

"We're leaving at midnight." Cora rolled those strange eyes up to the wall; the half busted clock. "One hour and thirty two minutes. Meet us in the control room. We got a gun for you...no extra padding though."

"I take it that means I'm _allowed_ to buy some _supplies_?"

"Yeah, I guess it does."

And then the ghoul woman was turning, walking away with that glimmering AK bouncing against her back; it was almost as glorious as her own gun; her carbine...just almost.

When the effect Cora had on her dwindled down, to the point that she could forget she'd even been there, she order two beers to go.

Donn set the beers on the counter, less hatefully than all the previous times he'd done so. Even though the idea that he was starting to like her crept up she dismissed it as a flaw of her wishful thinking. So she paid and nodded, getting the same non-pulsed gesture back.

In two minutes, from red rooms to bright corridors, she stepped foot in Aser's shop. He wasn't there behind the counter. Just oil marks on his side of the linoleum where his hands had once been. She almost slammed the beers on the counter, knowing if he was around the noise would grab his attention. Then the thought that he was asleep sunk it, a glance at the clock told her it was possible and with that realization she grimaced.

But no sooner had she thought of leaving did the ghoul in question ease out an open doorway to her right, looking very wired and more than happy to see her. At least someone was.

"Party favors? Is it just us or did you invite more?" He cackled, pushing up to the counter and swiping up the beer.

"Just us."

"Alone again..."

She needed the laugh and she hope, as she chuckled, he didn't take it the wrong way. By the grin on his face it said he hadn't in the slightest.

"So you need something or am I just that irresistible...", he made a wave of the beer, "...something tells me I'm barking up the wrong tree with that one though." His tone was humorous and then humble as he popped the cap off his beer against a thumb and the counter. The wasteland currency popped and rolled along the counter before he slapped a hand on it. She watched him take a few hardy swigs before pocketing the cap.

"Actually, I'm going with...Cora..." She assumed he knew the ghoul women, "...joining her and some others in an hour to get some weapons from this bunk-"

"Yeah, I know the place. Well, not know personally...but I've seen the floor plans."

There was a pregnant pause, oddly not as uncomfortable as she thought, but she broke it nonetheless.

"Grenades?" She questioned, arching a brow with a hopeful expression.

He didn't answer, just stared at her. The silence dragged on and soon her face faltered. "What? More ghouls behind me again?"

"What happened to your eye?"

Whatever she thought had been awkward between her and Charon earlier was doubled to a thick paste with Aser. She remained silent, too long, knowing that if she were to pass the question off she should have done it moments ago. So she shifted on her feet, eye twitching where the purple and yellow was spotting.

"Just a war wound...must have happened when I thought punching one of those ghouls would be a good idea. Never could fix that impulse... I suppose." She stopped talking, knowing she could easily fall into a tangent that would just make the whole thing more uncomfortable.

Aser was smart though, whatever he'd thought he covered it up; all greasy smiles and pointed brows now. The urge to say thank you was there, but she stifled the urge to speak for popping the cap on her beer. She didn't need to drink anymore, but doing anything right now besides perking up on her feet over and over again was better than showing how much the question proved upsetting.

"So, those grenades?"

Aser gave her that small mouthed smirk, twisting by the waist to grab a box behind him. On the counter he set the moldy yellow box gently, a small rattle muffled inside. The sound was satisfying after the previous unsettling air between them. She could have smiled if she hadn't just pushed the lip of her beer in her mouth.

The old hoppy taste stung in her mouth as she swallowed the gritty beer; it was tasty nonetheless.

"I'd give you a discount if I hadn't already dished out those caps," He ran big eyes over her; languid but passionate. "Guess I've got a soft spot for a soft ass." That chuckle he gave was like music to her ears. Hearing laughter always made her itch with the impulse to chuckle as well - so rare to hear, especially when it wasn't laced with bloodlust.

She paid.

Steep was the first thing she thought when she was holding the box in her hands, but upon opening the flap she thought of another word; priceless.

The egg shaped death-machines glistened under the light of his shop, almost smiling up at her with the promise of total devastation. You couldn't find these babies in hotel sinks or grenade boxes...at least she'd never unearthed them.

The satisfaction that only a good purchase could bring cropped up.

Without thinking she seized her beer chest level, gesturing to the trader with a full blown grin. Aser's beer chimed with hers before they tossed their heads back, downing the booze, both with their own idea of fulfillment running around their heads.

She bought more; ammo for her carbine - even though over thirty rounds lay in a neat pile at the far side of the weapons locker she'd concealed all her valuables in - a new thick belt and one relatively sharp combat knife.

The next hour ran out slowly; both of them bullshitting about what they liked to call "mercy killings"; mostly involving hoods who they both agreed had little purpose in this world.

"Ignorance is a reason to kill."

Others wouldn't agree with them, but that mattered little. Aser seemed to have the same morals as she, or he was agreeing with her on everything for baser reasons, which was possible. At this point she didn't care.

At one point she'd stared too long at the scar carved into his neck, catching his eyes in a way that had her shifting her thighs awkwardly.

She balanced now, legs folded on the counter; gouging holes into neat little fiber-tangled lines. She hooked clasps through them; ones she'd molded from a heap of scrap metal Aser threw in for free.

The ghoul leaned forward, face only half a foot away from her bent legs. He was pretending to stare at her handiwork but she knew better. Let him look if he wanted to, she didn't mind much...maybe even flattered to a certain shameful extent.

Sitting in silence as she worked made her miss the radio. Normally they were littered _everywhere_, but the lack of dependable radio stations had greatly reduced the background chatter she was so used to. Aser didn't have one, parts of them littered around the shop, but none of them came together to make a workable one. She could visualize the trader smashing it on the ground just for spare wires, not caring the slightest at the loss of the _music_.

As he stared, running fish like eyes over her legs, she threaded hooks into new holes, flicking the clasps with satisfaction. When all circles of metal swung with the belt she gave a rumble; a hum. Aser gave her a smirk when she looked at him, eye staying on her thighs, even when he uncapped a fresh beer.

She took a sip from her third beverage, placing the sweating beer between her legs before unclasping her old belt. The new one was wide, unable to fit through the threads of fabric that held her old one. She slid it on, tilting back to yank it tight around her waist.

When she stood Aser grunted, staring up at her before she hopped off the counter with that sleek pain stinging in her soles.

She slipped each frag on its personal clasp, twisted the belt around her waist, clipping, turning, clipping and continuing on until all eight bobbing grenades protruded against the start of her hips. They shook softly when she turned, and she completed the work of art by slipping the combat knife carefully between two dangling grenades.

Her belt hugged everything closely, snug and comforting against her body.

Nothing like the feeling of protection; of implements of death surrounding her. Nothing could make her feel more invincible.

Aser didn't have much in terms of armor, none that fit her that is. Only a moth eaten flight jacket was wearable, so she took it; paid the small fee and shrugged the itchy fabric on and over the destruction around her.

The cold of _Abyss_ had stopped bothering her already, and now, covered in the thick layered jacket she felt uncomfortably warm.

"You're cheeks always that red?"

"Just hot is all."

"I know.", she didn't have to turn to know the ghoul was giving her that slimy grin. She left the article of clothing open, pulling in cool air as she walked over to grab her pack; the one Aser had graciously picked up for her in the common room.

Inside she pulled out some smokes, bubble gum, radx, and three capped stimpacks before quickly stuffing them into any pocket she could find. The more she had on her, no matter how unnecessary, the safer she felt.

Long ago she realized why traders felt so comfortable walking around the aimless wastes; their pocket infested clothing was as safe feeling as any weapon. It was true.

The sound of Aser's empty beer bottle sounded on the table, forcing her attention to him, then to the shattered clock right above him.

She could bullshit for another ten minutes or so.

So Aser smugly replied back to any and all she had to say, stuffing in a remark of his own every now and then until the clock ran out. They exchanged a piece of bubble gum, pushing the wads in their mouths at roughly the same time, smacking their unsimilar lips with similar smiles.

"Come back in one piece smoothskin. I wouldn't mind running my hands over that baby of yours.", again that voice was thick and clogged.

Aser gave her a mock solute as she nodded to him, chewing the softening gum around each cheek.

Then she was gone, slipping around the door frame and down the waning corridors, gum smacking between her teeth. As she walked, one foot in front of the other, she felt the need to truly thank Cora. She needed a reason to leave _Abyss_; without one she may have drunk herself into another type of abyss...one where worse things than Charon were waiting around the bend.

More ghouls, than an outsider like herself would think, were out. Many were huddling around vents, exhaling billows of smoke from their nostrils like angry Deathclaws, staring at her as she proceeded through the common room. Their looks hadn't been particularly hostile, yet even as she stepped onto the shaky grated floor of the control room she felt as if the ghouls had thrown her into a pit of hungry monsters.

Even with Cora standing in the group of ghouls, with a surprising look of thanks on her visage, Harriet still felt as if their teeth were locating the softest area to bite.

"See you stocked high. Glad to find you don't take things lightly."

Cora's voice was soothing, in one of the strangest ways. The rest of the ghouls only looked her over with mild approval, barely containing a verbal jab.

"Gwyn won't be joining us, Cerberus thought it would be too many good men…and women," the half malformed ghoul's eyes shimmered with a hidden smile, staring back at her as the others again remained indifferent, "so it will be the three of us, Mig and Tig over there," Cora nodded to the two mutt's in the dark shadows near the control panel, " and…Samael when ever the little shit shows ups."

"Who's the third?"

"Me, ma'am."

Shifting out from behind Cora was that one ghoul from the meeting earlier, she remembered him well from how lanky he was, not particularly tall but narrow in every sense of the word.

"Apep's the name."

The ghoul was obviously running on manners, pushing one gloved hand out past the open air between them to offer a formal shake.

"Harriet."

She took his hand, squeezing just a notch harder than him before giving him a smile.

She liked him already.

In the proceeding few minutes she'd been handed a hunting rifle, a brown sack of shots and one cigarette. "In case you end up between death and no way out." is what one of the ghouls said, apparently it was a little tradition between them all and everyone had a cigarette to go out with a bang; one last little pleasure in case the worst showed itself.

Cora had been half-way through a brief run down in how they normally ran a search and prospect mission when the door slid open behind Harriet. Suddenly, even though Cora hadn't stopped speaking the high-pitched laughter of a ghoul swelled around the room.

Waves upon waves of maddening laughter drowned out Cora's voice, purposefully overpowering the female ghoul.

Harriet turned already prepared for…for…where was he?

…at first she didn't see anyone, and then she peered down.

A small ghoul stood, four-and-then-some-feet high with fists on well armed hips, carrying the most lewd smile she'd ever seen. He looked like a little shit…and it was then she realized he was the child ghoul she'd glanced at upon first arriving. This was who Gwyn, Charon's right hand man, had such abhorrence for? A child?

Immediately when the boy brushed past her, strolling forward to the control panel – one in which he had to lean upwards to work – she realized why Gwyn hated him. The ageless ghoul stared right into Harriet's eyes, looking upon just as you would an insect that had accidently tickled the side of your hand.

Samael flicked a switch and pressed a square button that sent the vault door in motion. Cora ignored the child, preparing the dogs with thick metal collars. Red bulbs on one side of the hunks of metal flickered in a kaleidoscope of other small colored bulbs then solidifying and darkening except for a few that stayed blaring under the dog's chins. Whatever the contraptions were they seemed important. Cora double checked them before taking the animals off their leashes.

Harriet didn't ask about the dogs or their shiny neck ties, nor did she say anything when Cora gave her that lingering look after glaring at Samael. Apep stepped up beside the smoothskin, giving her a bashful smile before filling his specked out 10mm pistol with care.

All in all, with the half-peeling woman lighting up a fresh smoke - the dogs drooling on either side of her – with herself and Apep withdrawing their weapons and the obnoxious ghoulish child tossing his combat knife from hand to hand, they made an odd group, but one she couldn't help but feel proud being part of.

As soon as the flood lights shot through the cracks in the vault door they were heading forward, Samael squeezing through the shifting gears first and the rest of them following. Just as they left the safety of _Abyss_ Harriet could have sworn she heard Charon's voice through the loud speaker.

In the open, gusty wasteland - the stars glimmering above like little splatters of floating dust - it truly felt like oblivion; crunches of footsteps, whistles of the wind and the occasional heavy breath was truthfully the only sounds out tonight. No snaps of distant gunfire, no symphonies of crickets or other small creatures...just soft noises that made everything about being in with the dust and grit one of the most pleasurable things since...since she'd first set out to find Charon.

She lingered behind them, a few feet after one of the dogs; it's collar still ablaze with red lights.

Samael spat into the wind, snorting more phlegm from his sinuses and into his throat. The ghoul child didn't seem to act as if he had anyone behind him, just paced forward at an impressive speed considering how small his strides were.

Tufts of greenish blond hair wafted over the boys head in conjunction with the breeze and for a second she thought of smooth skinned children...and what could have been. Butterflies grew and fluttered around in her stomach, making nausea and taste of stale beer flow up into her throat.

If only she could turn on Three Dog's radio station and lose herself in the songs she'd heard a thousand times already. What she wouldn't give for some static-riddled song, or even a ghouls cracked voice humming a tune - anything to keep her mind off the constant running thoughts.

Apep had fallen behind beside her, holding hand fulls of 10mm death to his stomach. For a second she thought he may strike up conversation, but he seemed content to just steal glances at her ever so often. She wanted to talk, but nothing worth while came to mind, so she just breathed in the smell of radioactive filth and relished the burn in her nostrils. No sense in spitting out bullshit when she wasn't sure what bullshit to bring up.

So they trekked - miles and miles from _Abyss_ - in complete and utter silence as mountains, dead leaning trees and small dust typhoons past in their wake. Any leaves she saw on those trees were brown, stuck to the branches in a timeless fusion.

The whole journey was depressing and the urge to speak only grew into an insatiable itch, one that just continued to fester all the more when she saw Apep turn and open his mouth, only to close it and keep walking. The fourth time he did this she finally broke the quiet.

"Something on your mind?"

Everyone stopped and after two small steps so did she.

Apep stared, eyes twitching with the want to widen in mild hysteria. What was his deal? Cora just snickered in another surprising mannerism and Samael just shook his head when she looked over to him, he'd already started walking again. Everyone soon followed again and it took her a few seconds to get moving, at least now she was behind all of them and Apep wouldn't be able to stare as easily.

"..the shit?", she whispered under her breath, feeling a swell of irritation start as everyone picked up the pace.

Just when that itch started again the silence was broken by just the things she'd almost prayed for. Cora started humming; some very scratchy tune that made her split a grin. She was beginning to really like this woman, even if she'd been a cunt at first.

Samael barked, "Can it Cora, my ears have already fallen off…don't need them rupturing as well."

"Bite me Samael." Cora spat back only missing a few tunes. Yes, Harriet liked this woman.

It'd taken two hours to come within sight of the dilapidated home; the one with paint still peeling and half of the roof sunken in, parts poking up like a mohawk. Windows were busted just like the front door, yet a window sill still held flower pots stuffed with old shoes and trash. It at one point must have been beautiful, but now, with the phosphorous air adding another erosive element into the mix, the place was a dump.

When they got closer a hawk screeched and flapped off one of the jutting pipes from the roof. Apep was the only one to twitch as the hostile bird swooped down low before setting off into the night sky. Birds were the least of their concerns. Raiders could have settled down again, disposing of their comrades and setting new traps for visitors.

"There was only four when I got here yesterday." She spoke hushed and gestured to the front door when they all stopped several yards from the door mat. Samael nodded to Cora, sheathing his knife as she set off with her AK poised directly in front of her. She apparently was the first runner and they all wasted a few minutes smoking cigarettes while watching the dim horizon. Cora's whistle rang, signaling that the house was clear and they all proceeded inside.

Harriet's heart started to hammer and with a death grip on her hunting rifle she proceeded after them.

A small rectangular object, covered with brown paper flashed before her eyes. She had to get_ it_ before they saw...get _it_ before anyone asked or thought something they shouldn't. Some where deep down she knew she was being paranoid; overtly protective, but damned if _it_ wasn't the only thing she cherished anymore, much more than the carbine sitting just above _it; _protecting _it_ like a shield. If anyone happened to get at her trunk of gear - however unlikely - she could only hope they'd see the carbine and take that instead of searching for more.

For a moment she cursed herself for almost forgetting about the trinket, so precious to her. Why on earth would she trust anyone to get it back to her safley?

"Harriet? The bunker door? Where is it?" Everything about Samael's tone was demanding, and before she answered she truly had to wonder what his position in comparison to all them was. The little shit sure did act as if he was their leader.

"Follow me.", and even though the look on the kids face was priceless, clearly not expecting having to follow her, she turned down the black hallway with a grin, feeling along the right wall for the emptiness.

The empty door frame lead down some stairs. The darkness was overwhelming until a spark of light flicked on behind her, bouncing in unstable hues against the brick walls. Who ever had sparked their lighter she said "…thanks." to. Cora told her to keep going and she did, step by vaguely illuminated step until they were in the acrid basement. It smelt like rotten meat and just where she'd left them - their bodies piled neatly and already leaking in the first stage of decomposition - the raiders lay.

"It's quit sadistic how you arranged your kills." It was the first thing Apep had really said to her and it was only now that she realized how clear his voice was in comparison to the other ghouls. "No wonder Cerberus trusted you to come along."

She stared at the corpses. Hadn't Cora wanted her to come…not…_Charon_? She turned to Cora, watching her half ragged face in the brightness of her lighter. The ghoulish woman met her gaze, shrugging, knowing the question in her eyes but giving no answer.

"Lets not be praising the _smoothskin_ just yet Apep." Samael lit his own lighter and kicked a dead arm with the toe of his boot; the skin sagged against the bone and underneath little bugs had already started to fester. The sight was revolting, but it was the smell the kid had kicked up - literally- that got her gagging. If she hadn't drank dinner maybe it wouldn't have made her feel so sick, but it seemed everyone else had the same puckered expression as she, even the ghoul child.

There was a pregnant pause until a reverberating thud made them all turn to a flickering corner where Cora stood, lighter flourishing in hand.

"This it?" Cora tapped a heel on what could best be described as a cross between a hatch and a manhole.

She nodded. "..mhmm."

Quickly she hunted in her jacket, pulling out a pack of smokes. She needed something to rid her senses of the smell, even if that smell was some Barker brand cigarettes. Before upending the hatch she lit the cigarette, inhaling the hot smoke like it was fresh air.

She descended down into the pitch black, cold staleness of the bunker. Everyone else but the dogs followed in a quiet orderly fashion, plopping down and shifting back to make way for another. After flipping the light switches that obviously didn't work they all flicked open their lighters, giving off enough light to see where the floor began and the ceiling ended.

The bunker screamed above them just seconds after Apep turned the wheel of the latch, closing it. They all paused, holding breaths as footsteps petered over their heads.

They had company.

"Raiders?" Apep whispered; the sound of his pistol cocking clicked in their ears, followed by the sounds of the rest of them readying their weapons.

Cora looked worried, wrinkles gracing the unpeeled skin of her forhead. The dogs were scratching at the hatch in a warning, panting loudly and whining.

"You can't lock them out, nor us in...wheel won't jam." She hushed back, stepping blindly back as the rest of them looked on at the hatch. Apep still had one foot on the ladder and was aiming his pistol up into the dome, ready to open fire should it open. The footsteps were growing closer and Harriet took another step backwards, glancing at a locker with a rusty lock on it. It looked unhampered and quickly with one glance back at the mesmerized ghouls she kneeled to start picking her lock. This was the distraction she needed.

There was muffled bickering between two...three, four people? It sounded closer, as well as the heavy footfalls above. They had to be Raiders, their steps weren't as large as a Brotherhoods armored one's would be - this she was thankful for as the bobby pin she'd been twisting glided just the right way and pop went the lock.

Silently she smiled, and as quiet as anyone in a wasteland full of atrocities could be, she pulled out her carbine and snatched at a brown paper bag just under some clothing. She slipped the object in an inside sleeve and turned as Cora caught her glance.

"What the hell are you doing? This isn't the fucking time! Load that damn gun and get over here." The woman didn't bother whispering any more, not when the dogs were growling; making those sounds only a creature with its teeth sunk into something soft could make.

A canine howled, one of pain as a shot fired. Screams echoed, one female without a doubt and the rest male. She couldn't tell how many of them there were, but one must have gotten a hell of a bite.

With ease she loaded her carbine, feeling the familiar weight of it and the secret package against her breast. Harriet joined the others, settling in beside Cora and Samael. None of them spared her a glance as blood started to leak through a crack in the hatch.

"One hell of a bite." Apep took the words right out of her mouth.

They could still hear one dog barking and yapping, trying to lunge and bite. She could see it now, one dog down, leaking like it's victim as the other mutt, covering in blood, made for any unprotected limbs.

For a second, just as the high pitched yelp and snarl created another round of yells and gunfire, she wondered what those metal collars had been for…

The dogs were dead, no more growling and no more barking. Just more blood running through the cracks and falling over Apep's knee – and he didn't seem to mind the blood.

"Reeaddy…" Samael whispered to them all, pulling out a thin .22 and cocking it with one small hand. At least the kid didn't just rely on a knife…

The hatch barely had time to bounce back on its hinges before the kid had a bullet through the young Raider's forehead. The juvenile Raider still had a look of mirth on her face as a trail of blood slid down her nose, quickly gushing forth like a broken faucet. Her head snapped back from the bullets vigor, but her body fell forward through the hatch, hitting Apep with a thump before tumbling down onto the floor. The ghoul groaned and stumbled back from the ladder, gun still held high, with disgust on his face.

Two down…and Samael was a good shot.

Through the open hatch, two pairs of shins stumbled forward, yells following them but the bellows were cut short when a close explosion went off. Blood and gore flew upwards, some slipping down the hatch along with one severed leg. One Raider fell, his wrinkled painful expression visible from the floor above them. The Raiders eyes were wide and their face was draining of color, despite the rough sun burns of red on his cheeks. In the wake of death the Raider crawled, pawing down the ladder before falling to the floor at their feet.

There was no question that the man's neck had snapped; the way his head curved into his arm pit told them all that much.

Ignoring the dead corpse for the possibility of live grenades she stuttered, "W-what the fuck was that?" Fear gripped her; explosives in the hatch could be dire, especially if the lug nuts above had the smarts to close the hatch before the blast. If the grenade didn't kill them then the aftershock would.

"The dogs!" Cora yelled as another explosion went off, maiming another one, judging by the thick gurgling cry. "We rig them with explosive collars...if their vitals go out they act as a live grenade." More blood dripped around the slopes of the hatch, painting the floor under their feet in a red halo.

There were shuffles, fainter yelling from far away and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor above. Except for the silhouette of chunky fur, the visibility through the hatch was limited. It sounded as if they were retreating, but for all they knew they could be getting backup. Raiders always traveled in packs, sometimes up to twenty strong and that idea, while exciting, didn't sit well with the smell of iron and bile. One of the three dead gits had shit themselves...

With a sneer Harriet shoved the girl's dead body further from them; it would start reeking soon...

"Grab what you can," Samael gestured to them with a quick glance, training his sights and the gun into the darkness patiently, "...the guns, the ammo, valuables first. I got the door above in my sights."

Everyone did as he said, though Cora didn't leave the kid without a faint sneer.

As they stacked guns inside their packs, piled boxes of ammo around like jigsaw pieces Samael just stood, slightly hunch with eyes keen at what looked to Harriet like pure darkness. The kid mumbled, hushing to himself and all she could hear was "They come and I got them...in my sights." he sounded lost, and for a second she took pause while prying the top of an ammo box up "...in my sights."

He sounded old.

"You got room Harriet?"

She turned to see Cora holding a bundle of assault rifles, staring expectantly.

"Yeah..."

They worked fast. In less than two minutes they'd fit every single thing in some form or another on their person; stacking layers of armor over their shoulders, hitching multiple weapons over their backs, filling pockets with rounds, grenades, rations and stuffing their packs near ripping point. Half of what they had was at one point hers, but she had the feeling that she would be getting something better than weapons out of all of this.

The first floor above them had remained silent, Samael still prone in his position, the same tight look on his face.

"Done." Cora seethed out, nudging the kid's boot with her own. He didn't jerk like she'd expected someone who'd been motionless for such a time - just turned his head slowly before taking the same pace as he climbed up the ladder.

Apep left the last, having the sense to loot the two dead Raiders first, and stuffing what looked like jet into a space along his jacket.

Everyone had their own crutch.

She didn't stare, just avoided the sticky blood that seemed to saturate everything. Out the corner of her eye she could see the mushy pile of dog, and as she stepped carefully after Cora and Samael she knew that the small white pieces on the floor were dog teeth...

The moon was hanging lower now, but the sky was still pitch black with the fuzzy smoke of distant nebulae behind the stars. One of the many things she'd lost since the day she'd left the Vault had been a book about the planets; the one book she'd never read out of the many her father had given her. Most of the things she'd read she'd forgot already, lost and likely never coming back.

Out in the wastes a girl didn't need to know about how man evolved from primates, or why the tides receded at dusk...no, a girl needed to know where to strike a man so he'd slowly suffocate to death, and how to dismantle a gun so it didn't discharge in her face when an enemy decided to come around a tight corner.

She had to replace book smarts with waste smarts and if she was being honest, it hadn't been hard to forget everything she'd spent so much time learning since childhood. What had been hard, was learning while avoiding mistakes since mistakes were you ending up dead, rape or enslaved.

It was quicker heading back to _Abyss_, but it was just as silent. No one spoke, no one hummed and no one coughed, even when a thick dust cloud blew in their faces.

Apep still lingered behind, and the absence of the dogs pattering feet with the lack of sounds from everyone else made the swift exhale of air loud. She knew what he was doing, and it was hard to not turned around and ask for a puff herself. Jet sounded swell, just a little lung full to add that white noise and take away the feel of the blood cracking around the wrinkles on her fingers.

She didn't get to shoot anyone tonight. An empty hole was still there; still growing and if it had been a physical hole she bet she could have shoved her fist in it with room to spare.

Up the hill, in the distance, was the mound of spare rocks that'd been the landmark she'd first used to find _Abyss_. In the night the rocks gave off shadows that formed a crude human skull; it wasn't something you could see by yourself, but if someone told you it was there, you'd find it easily.

Just as the first flicker of the cavern appeared past the horizon all the hair along her arms stood, followed by the short broken strands against her neck. Something wet trickled into her navel and her ears stung; the sound of gunfire ringing only with aftershock in her head. The two ghouls in front of her were turned, eyes confused and faces withheld.

A hand on her stomach told her brain that pain followed being shot and like a mole rat playing dead she dropped to the ground, pain sure as hell seeping out along her belly and through her limbs. Another loud crack sang through the air and a pile of dust shot up a foot from her shoulder, signalling a second shot that missed her.

From this position, back arched with the heavy sack curling her spine underneath her, she could see the stars without that nasty pain in her neck, and soon Cora's armored knees came into view at her side.

More gun fire, more noise and it was then she realized it had been the Raiders. Like dogs they'd been stalking them; this whole time just trailing along, lured by the sight of all the guns poking out from their sacks…or maybe it'd been revenge, but something told her most Raider's didn't give two shits about their comrades.

Shock set in and she was only faintly aware of being dragged through the dirt, billows of dust disturbed around her and sticking like fine powder against the fabric soaking above her wound. Cora's face winced above her, arms framing the smoothskin's vision. Her hot breath fell on Harriet's face as the ghoul woman drug her like a stiff board into cover.

She deserved to have her dogs back.

She'd never been shot in the stomach before, and now...as she shook on each faint breath, eyes wide and expression fearful...she now knew why no one wanted to get a hot one in the belly; why people winced when they heard of people getting shot here.

It hurt...it really hurt, and what was worse than the breathtaking pain; worse than how her limbs went ridged, was how Cora stared down into her, watching with horror as the wetness gathered and spilled down her sides. The ghoul above her had said something, but the pain had made it's way into her ears and bunged them up past vocation

Darkness was good; darkness meant the pain could take a back seat for a bit...and if she died, well...there were worse things.

Cora slapped her; no pain but a dull tickling sensation. The action woke her up, vision focusing again but this time Cora was leaving her, disappearing from her limited vision; vision that consisted of mostly the lightening sky.

More gun fire, screaming, ripping sounds that were so, so close.

With no one around; no one to smooth back her hair and help her elude the panic, she felt her fingers twitch. She always did act better when it was just her and the situation at hand.

She had three stimpacks in her pocket, ones she couldn't reach with fingers she couldn't feel.

Suddenly her breath stuck in her throat, something was clogging her air ways and with a shaky sob she coughed up phlegm and blood. The taste of copper and iron solidified on her tongue.

Another loud guttural cry made her shiver. Not knowing who the scream came from was the worst of it; how her neck just wouldn't lift her head.

How she got her hands in her pocket she couldn't remember, but she pulled whatever she was touching out across the dirt. Feeling with her palm against the ground she grabbed a box: bubblegum...

She felt her heart in her stomach, thudding painfully as her toes went numb and her knees started to ache. They had to have shot her with a hunting rifle...something big. As her fingers landed on the holes of a stimpack she smiled. The hole she'd been unable to fill this whole time was real now and she had a stimpack to fill it with...

...but her arm wouldn't move, and she couldn't hear the gun fire and the yells anymore and even though all of this should have filled her with dread she just lay there, bleeding, as a flutter of elation passed over her.

Her eyes shut; the darkness darker than she'd ever not seen.

Roughly the stimpack was pulled from her fingers, tugging her joints painfully. She barely felt the stimpack slip into her side, nor the second one that was stuck right inside the gushing hole. Pain was pain...and at the moment the absence of flesh and organ meat was much more excruciating than a little needle stick, even if it was pushed into shredded innards.

"God, Cerberus said he'd kill me if you died...j-just stay still. Just don't move, please." It wasn't Cora's voice...Samael...no, Apep. She tried to say his name, but she felt blood in her throat again and just swallowed it down instead.

She wanted to vomit.

"How many did you get in her?"

"Two, just two."

She heard shuffling and clatters of plastic and glass on the ground, followed by a serious of small stings in and around her belly. One stimpack stuck into her neck, flushing a warm solution into her carotid artery. It burned but god was it better than the pain she'd felt at the start of this...it was easing away now, the pain only flickering sharply in and out.

"Quick, I'll get her by the knees. Apep take her other side." Cora...

Weightlessness was next. They suspended her; hands under her arms and arms under her knees. They jogged her, limbs swinging and chin bouncing roughly on her solar plexus. With all the stimpacks everything was very hazy. The pain was barely there but it had been replaced with a hot buzzing, distracting her from everything else. She wondered how many they got in her...ten? maybe more. Never had she had so many. Could you die from too many stimpacks? Probably.

"Don't worry about being gentle, just keep up and don't fucking look at her!" Hands tightened their grip on her, hefting her head closer against a body, tilting her chin further into her chest. If the blood loss killed her then at least she wouldn't wake up with a kink in her neck.

They'd been close to Abyss before the gun fight, so she didn't bother opening her eyes when the crisp footfalls turned thick; echoing in the tunnel. Vault doors opened and trepid air, thick with sweet decay made her feel fuzzy. For a moment she pretended it was home and Charon was the one carrying her in from a violent day...and when she opened her eyes, body having been dropped on the floor with its coolness seeking in past the clothing to her hot skin...

...he was there in front of her; lips turned down, eyes hard and fists by her chest with the trinket, still wrapped in brown paper, in his hand.

* * *

As always, thanks for reading. Review if you find the time, and don't be afraid to let me know about any mistakes I've made. Hope everyone had a good Christmas and have a safe/happy new year! :)


	4. Circle 4:hell's paved in good intentions

Fourth chapter and it's a long one! Enjoy the length since I may be knocking off a couple thousand words from the next one. (notsure)

Also I got one of those fanart gifts that I've always envied other writers for! A few days after I posted the third chapter I got a present, a belated christmas/new years sort of thing from an artist who drew up a black-eyed, smoking, and grenade totin' Harriet. Yes! I know, I almost wet myself I was so surprised. I don't know what the etiquette for posting links on here is so you'll have to head over to my profile for a look-see.

On with the show! I mean story...

* * *

"_Sit down."_

"_Yes, sir." Apep spoke stiffly as he took his seat._

_Cerberus sat ahead of him, hands clasped beneath his chin with a burning cigarette smoking between two knuckles. Those chalky blue eyes narrowed when Apep shifted in his chair. His eyes gazed like Apep had hoped to never see directed at him. _

_Time and time again, Cerberus had proven he wasn't as ruthless as others made him out to be...and one time Apep had even seen him smile, but now as he fidgeted in his chair all he could do was think back to any wrongs he may have done; any mistakes he might have made. Why was he called to his office? Why was it just him and Cerberus…where was everyone else? and why did being alone with him make his chest pain so?_

"_I'm going to send you in place of Gwyn for the retrieval mission with Samael and Cora…"_

_Apep took a moment to be confused, especially since he was sufficient in battle only with his 10mm, and it was by far one of the worst weapons against hoods. The boss could take his pick from any number of the others; others more experienced than himself. So why him?_

_Perhaps this particular request meant he was better equipped than he himself thought?_

"_Could I ask a question, sir?"_

_Cerberus just nodded, looking off to the side as he took a drag off his roll, barely moving his hand from its perch under his chin._

"_Why?"_

_Cerberus just snorted; stale smoke leaking out from his nostrils._ "_Why? Because I said so, that's why."_

_Apep watched as Cerberus rose from his seat, wincing as the chair squealed against the tarnished flooring, piercing his ear drums. Cerberus didn't look pleased; he looked annoyed._

_The conversation seemed over with, and Apep was about to stand; about to leave, before a very anomalous look crossed over his leader's face – one that made him second guess the past several hours ever since the smoothskin came along. In his chair, as the smell of a fresh cigarette being lit assailed his nostrils, Apep glued his eyes to Cerberus._

"_You're dependable." His words dripped out as if it was a confession, "I don't know what Cora's relationship with **her** is, Gwyn doesn't trust **her**and I won't rely on Samael unless I was ordering him to kill **her**."_

"_Sir...?"_

"_Just watch out for the smoothskin, that's your job. She's the fourth for the retrieval team, Cora's already got her meeting in the control room at midnight."_

"_Yes, sir." _

_Apep didn't want the responsibility. Keeping order of his day-to-day and running his errands didn't come with too many repercussions; looking after another living soul did, came with a lot actually, and if Cerberus wanted someone safe then the repercussions for failure to do so could be dire – would be dire, he corrected himself._

_Cerberus' voice cut through the worry, almost making him break a sweat; which was impressive since in honesty Apep didn't know if he could even perspire anymore._

_"What is your job Apep?" His voice was imposing; daring him to decline the order._

"_My job?…my job is to look after the smoothskin, make sure she stays out of harms way." Apep winced; his voice had come out more unstable and uncertain than he'd meant; indicative of his confidence._

"_What ever happens to her, I'll impart upon you..." The swell of saliva in Apep's throat was too big to swallow and it took everything he had to not choke on it right in front of his leader's penetrating gaze. He nodded, barely able to breath._

"…_and if you let her die, I'll let you die as well. I'll lock the doors on you…and I'll feed you to_ **_them_**."

_All Apep wanted was to get out of the room; appease him enough to let him leave as calming as he could. Again he nodded, keeping his gaze firm enough to be convincing._

_His muscles stiffened, and his thin fingers dug into the leather on his thighs as Cerberus planted two huge hands on the desk, leaning forward with death in his eyes._

"_Go. Get ready."_

_Just like the last two times Apep nodded quickly and rose a bit too fast, feeling the blood rush to his face as he turned and left. He felt like a dog, tail between his legs and a shotgun at his brow. _

_He may have signed his death warrant just then…_

…and as Apep released Harriet's shoulders, watching in horror as Cerberus immediately lunged for her, plucking up the brown bag that'd slipped from her jacket and growing that same look on his face that he'd seen earlier; Apep realized he had signed his death warrant last night…and this could be his last morning; last crisp inhale…last feeling of the quickly dissipating high.

Apep took two steps back, distancing himself from the drooping eyes of the girl and Cerberus, who was craning over her with fists tightening in her ratty collar. What did she mean to him?...and…_shit,_he knew now that he hadn't just let any smoothskin get shot. He let Cerberus' smoothskin get shot.

The reality sunk in when those furious eyes landed on him; harbingers of death.

Why did he have to huff that jet? If he hadn't been doped he would've been able to hear the Raiders behind him; been able to…

…and just like that Cerberus had Samael's .22 in his hand, cocking it just as the ghoul child realized his gun had been taken. Milliseconds later the gun fired. Samael must have growled, and somewhere he heard Cora bawl but he couldn't be certain…since he already had two shots in his stomach, ripping with hot pain.

Something sparked and popped behind him; a third shot mislaid. Apep could only shut his eyes, fall back against one of the memory banks and thank god he'd only got two…the thought of another bullet, as his fingers shakily reached for the holes in his stomach, would have been too much. Pain began flaring under his sticky fingers, staring at his stomach and ending in his toes and fingers.

He knew there had to be one more bullet in the chamber, but if it was ejected he didn't feel it nor did he hear it.

As he willed himself into unconsciousness, already feeling the pain receding, he thought back to what Gwyn had said of Cerberus the first time he'd met the ghoul. "Just don't cross him…the man knows what compassion means, even uses it from time to time, but that doesn't mean he lives by it." Those words laid the foundation of his understanding of Cerberus, for the past three years…

…so maybe it wasn't true irony, but it sure felt like it.

The only comfort he received before the lights was a short order, thick with venom,.."Get him out of here, take him to _Ressurection_…"

* * *

Cerberus squared his shoulders, straightening to his full height as the eyes gradually squared in on him.

"Who wants to question me?"

He turned his head, glaring at each and everyone, watching their stunned expressions falter and shift, trying their best to show neutrality. He aimed the gun at the ceiling, rubbing a scabby finger against the trigger, itching to shoot it again.

"No one? Good."

He dropped the gun's sights to the floor, turning his gaze down to Harriet. Her eyes were wide; alert, even with the miasma he knew she was fighting through. Her chest was lifting quickly, quivering with each exhale.

"You look pissed smoothskin." He knew the state her mind was in; the dopey way she got from too many stimpacks was something he'd been familiar with. Despite the fog, she gaped up at him with malice in her eyes; hate was a perfect word for the way she was looking at him. _Good_. Hate would keep her going until someone could get the blood back in her.

Shooting Apep should have been something he did later, behind closed doors…without an audience, but the sight of the lanky ghoul inching himself into a corner was too much to witness and taking those shots made him feel less feeble.

He wasn't so fearful; so shaken and lovesick. He no longer needed to pet her hair, or whisper comforts to her like he used to; it wasn't something he could pull off in front of everyone anyways…much more sense in just shooting the ghoul. The action may have given everyone the same idea regarding _him_ and _her_, but at least this way they still looked upon him with caution.

It all made for better appearances, and right now…appearances were half of it.

With the sight of her in his peripherals, huffing with rage in her damaged state, his hand squeezed the brown package. The weight was familiar; the shape, and in a second he knew just what it was. His heart leapt and fell back in place with a tight coil. She still had it, after all this time…

"Someone get her hooked up to an IV. She needs blood...", he observed her skin pale and yellow, "…and Radaway."

When everyone just stood there, feet planted and eyes still watching he growled. "Now!"

They scrambled, Cora the only one not moving. Cerberus stood, monitoring the way they pulled her up; the way they supported her as they made with her to _Resurrection_. Everyone else left to escape the thick ambiance he'd made, except Cora, with half of her beautiful face torn in a frown. Her eyes were still colorful as they shook, lashing into him…or at least trying too.

"What?" He grunted, lowering his head and glaring, hoping it would be enough to get her to leave.

Her pale green eyes surveyed the bloodshed; two separate pools, all trailing to the door behind him. His throat began to itch with impatience…and then finally she spoke, "Aser said she was searching for someone. A ghoul…It…was you, wasn't it?"

He still had the gun, he could shoot her too. It would make him feel better, wouldn't it?

"Charon…", she breathed.

His finger twitched on the trigger, tightening his arm to keep it from bending; from aiming the gun at her face.

"Didn't think you fraternized with smoothskins…but, I guess everyone can't resist the very thing they don't have anymore." She was jealous, eyes falling to the puddle of blood where Harriet had once been. It didn't do any good for him to call her out, but he did it anyways.

"It never would have worked..." Her face weakened when he spoke, eyes still on his. "You know that, don't you." It wasn't a question, closer to a warning.

She'd always been bureaucratic with him, but this was the moment he smashed out that look she'd been getting in her eyes lately.

"Because my skin's rotting…or because I'm not her?"

"No one's like her." He snarled, and he knew it wasn't necessary. She was a strong girl, she could take rejection, but something bitter in him wanted to rub it in; smash any hope in her like a used up cigarette butt.

The conversation was over though.

She understood, and she was never one to hang around to take a beating, so when she brushed past him he took one last lingering inhale of her scent; gun powder and scotch. She'd been beautiful too, once, and she was as sturdy as any man could want, but she hadn't freed him from centuries of servitude; kissed him when she was trying to save the world; or stayed by his side when he was at his most cruel. She wasn't Harriet; the girl that started off not knowing which part of the chamber to take apart to clean a gun…

If Harriet hadn't come back he would have taken Cora, but things had changed. He was going to get the smoothskin back, make her his, even if he had to destroy _Abyss_ to do it.

Sure as the air filled his lungs, she'd be his again. He maintained his stance in the center of the control room, breathing in the thinner air, smelling blood; _her _blood.

"Harriet...", it came out a yearning noise more than it did a word. He'd been saying her name too often, alone, with only himself to savor the sound; it was already getting alarming.

* * *

Harriet found herself lucid through the whole ordeal. Barely feeling the thick needle shoved in her arm, nor the sting of cold blood flushing into her veins. In such a fog everyone looked the same, for all she knew it was Cora that was pulling the buttons free on her shirt, peeling the caked layer of fabric from her body.

The cold air pierced her skin, making her shiver despite how weak she felt.

Charon was going to get stabbed when this was over with. She could already visualize twisting the knife in his gut; the pain she felt now, as squeaky fingers dove into her belly, fishing for the bullet, would be his pain when she impaled him.

"Ha..haahh!" Who ever it was tugging inside her had touched something that was never meant to be felt; an organ was all she could assume when the sick gagging pressure increased. Her legs jumped when that certain part of her was pushed aside.

She couldn't take it anymore she went ridged and screamed; throat clogging on the sheer atrocity of it all. Then it was over. The hands were removed and that ailing heaviness was gone.

The threading and tugging of her skin as someone stitch it together was welcomed compared to the pressure. Her body sighed, relaxing as the blood flooding into her made her feel so cold it mimicked warmth. A shiny safety blanket was tossed over her, tucked in along her arms and legs. Soon the warmth was anything but a sham.

Someone pushed sweaty hair from her forehead and she smiled, unable not too.

She spoke, but wasn't sure if it passed her throat; it didn't matter though, that hand was threading fingers through her hair and tugging softly on the strands.

A single prick touched her free arm and suddenly the bright lights dimmed and then came blackness.

When she woke it was as if she was still dreaming, barely aware yet coherent enough to know that the red bag above her was the half empty blood pack. Quickly the sand behind her eyes was thrust away by a pulling sting.

Beside her was a ghoul, slipping the needle from her arm too leisurely. He, at least she though it was a he as she blinked back the sleep and drugs to look up.

The ghoul didn't notice her, or didn't care that her eyes were open. He, and he was a he, was treating her now un-stuck arm with a dab of alcohol, humming with a weak voice. What skin he had left, which was very little, was tainted the color of a fresh bruise. His whole body gave off the faint flush of mottled purple…or maybe she was still a too looped.

"Dok..ter?"

He didn't respond, just stuck a clean wad of cloth into her arm before bending the limb at the elbow and laying it on her chest.

"Hold that please." His voice was low and cracked.

She couldn't nod, so she grunted a yes and turned her eyes to the open door straight ahead of her. She could see ghouls drifting past the opening, peering in, and one she noticed walk by a few times.

Her heart beat in her chest and in her stomach, thick thuds that left her feeling woozy.

"Drink up."

A glass of water had been procured and was held before her. She just stared. Did he really think she could sit up?

"Come on girl…up, up, up." She hissed, as he pushed her forwards, creasing the wrinkled skin of her wound with very little care. She would have cursed him, smacked him, thrown the glass in his face but quickly she found herself struggling to breathe through the discomfort.

"Drink and I'll give you the stimpack and med-x. You're about due anyways…"

That soft, borderline casual voice was beginning to bother her, like only someone who was more content than she, could manage.

She grabbed the glass, spilling a decent wave of it over her hand and the shiny blanket.

She glugged the water down, choking on the last few swallows. Pain wracked her body again; bursts of it followed each contained cough. At this point the tears that streamed from the corner of her eyes weren't shameful. This was real pain and this time she didn't have shock to limit the rest of her bodily functions.

She felt her bladder jolt, and if she'd had anything in it she would have wet herself.

The purple ghoul slapped her back, only making it worse and quickly with little warning she vomited the water onto her lap.

"Dear...guess we'll have to try that again won't we?" The same sickly collective tone just made her feel worse. She managed a "shut up", albeit a pathetic one, just before she gagged again.

The blanket was ripped off her; falling bile and water sounding on the floor in splatters.

"..ughr…ha", she made another gagging symphony before looking around in apprehension. The emotion was warranted since the purple ghoul thrust another glass of water into her face.

"Sip it this time.", and as soon as she took the cup he turned tail and left, leaving her alone with vomit water on the floor.

"Nice..beh'd side…manner…", she sipped the water none the less, "…prick."

The purple ghoul had been gone for some time, and she found that the boredom was worse than the itchy pain in her stomach. Out the corner of her eye she could see the stimpack and med-x lying on a tray.

With tenderness and care she cupped her stomach and slid off the bed. It took a second, as the air cooled against her legs, to realize she was bare from the waist down. She was standing ass and mound bare, and all she could do was gape lazily down herself.

Sure ghouls had walked by and seen already, so she stepped lightly to the tray, edging closer out of line from the doorway. Injecting the stimpack first then the med-x, she braced on the counter to her right, hoping only half heatedly that no one received the free peep show.

Despite the fact that she was half naked – literally – she couldn't help but enjoy the cool air as it simmered the heat around her stitches. It was as if she had a second belly button, just a little askew to the right.

When the so-called Doctor came back in she was only spared a glance. He'd probably seen it all earlier anyways…someone had to have taken her clothes off and she was guessing it was him.

"Let's leave the medicating to me from now on…", he gestured to the used stimpack and med-x as he disposed them in the busted can. She snorted, feeling her legs start to shake.

"You lack modesty."

"Mind your own fucking business.", she wasn't normally so short, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. It was as if he was a robot covered in ropey muscles and rotten skin, and his program was to provide cynical statements.

She had modesty…just not enough at the moment to crawl back in bed with embarrassment.

The purple ghoul was mopping up the water from the floor, humming again as he did.

The pattern of the melody was familiar, only making her detest him more. The last thing she wanted was to know he enjoyed a song just as much as she.

Her eyes trailed around her, settling over shelves and trays, catching the sight of a rusty stain on a gurney farther against the wall with a half curtain hiding it. She tiptoed, careful of each step, making her way to the bloody bed on wheels.

Suddenly she remembered now. "…Apep." Her gut pained again, as if a heavy weight had be placed on the tender knots of wire.

"What happened to Apep? Where is he?" She turned sharply, impatient already considering how slow the ghoul turned to her, staring as if she'd asked what time it was, even though there was a clock right beside her. She waited, almost hearing that clock tick by as the seconds piled on top of each other, still the ghoul just stared at her before resuming his work on the floor.

"I asked you a question."

"Cerberus will be down soon. I'd get dressed if I were you."

"What did you do with _Apep_?" She grated out the question, dripping with conviction and it was then she saw more than heard the ghoul sigh. Her mouth parched instantly, feeling all the moisture start to pour out on her skin.

"Resting in the male dorm at _Two Fields_...I wouldn't worry about him. He got what he deserved."

"Deserved? What the hell did he do to deserve what Ch-..." She stopped, catching her flaw and at the same time realizing that conversation with this ghoul was useless and only going to lead to a one ended squabble.

"Where are my clothes then?"

"Folded on the chair in that corner…," he nodded to the side ",…I'd find some different clothes though, that skirt's going to itch at the stitchings."

She ignored him, walking over past the open door again on less than stable legs. She dressed, leaving the zipper at her hip halfway open, her blood stained shirt covering most of the exposed slip. She could smell the rot on her.

"Those showers in the bathrooms…"

"What about them?" He sounded busy, as if he had better things to do that mop up her puke.

"Do they work?"

She peered behind her shoulder at the purple face, more muscle than skin and just as bored looking. He was staring oddly. "_Yes_…you'd prefer the bathroom upstairs though."

"What bathroom up-…", she paused and then her face slowly and agonizingly turned flushed. He was a bastard to even assume she'd use his shower. Already she regretted question the ghoul further, "The Overseerer's bathroom?" ,everything felt like some failed flank.

"No, Cerberus' bathroom." His tone was still soft, but the exasperation was there as if he was correcting some stupid child.

"I don't think so." She slipped her feet into her boots, sockless and ill-fitting, but she would rather the extra trouble if it meant she could leave the room before Charon got here; he was always impatient even when he was bound under contract.

"If you're leaving now, make sure to follow the corridor to the….", his voice mingled with the sighs and creaks of the vault; the information as useless as the echoeing music in some other room far away.

"Sure…", she agreed, catching the last few words and coming up with a generic response, "…will do." She stopped at the doorway, one hand balancing herself against the frame. When she turned her head around he was eyeing her with the same suspicion everyone else seemed to have for her.

There was no sense in making an enemy down here, so she opted for a calm face instead of a sneer. "Mind if I ask your name?" Pleasantries wouldn't hurt either.

"Pourriture. Mister Pourriture, please."

"Pour-i-ter?"

He didn't seem happy about the pronunciation. "Close enough."

"I'm Har-"

"I know your name. I'd stop introducing yourself, everyone knows about you by now."

She stared, probably with a skeptical look as well. The urge to pres on, lay into him even crept up in her gut but in the end she didn't care enough to start more shit. For all she knew Charon was already…

…already in front of her. She'd instinctively tried to suck in a breath out of astonishment, but her stomach rejected the quick motion…so instead she tensed uncomfortably.

He towered over her in the doorway, looking down at her as if he'd been there long enough to be bored with her parting conversation. Those milky eyes looked her up and down, close enough for her to see him inhale the smell of her. The look told her she wasn't the only one that thought she smelt.

"Prognosis?" His eyes were still on her, and she'd been about to rebuke him for daring to speak so early until Pourriture from behind spoke sooner.

"Walking, as you can see. Three stitches, four pints of blood and several more stimpacks…med-x every six hours for the next two days." He spoke as if it all wasn't more than a simple scrape to the knee.

She growled, unable to control her temper all of a sudden.

"The med-x will make her…irritable."

Charon made a loud exhaling grunt, as if he was laughing but not in amusement. He didn't say much else, not even a "thank you" or "job well done". When she glowered back at him the look on his face changed quickly, straightened as if he'd be caught doing something wrong. The sudden change was perplexing, too say the least.

"How are _you_ feeling?"

Instead of answering him she eased around his blocking form, still on shaky knees, but with luck he didn't stop her. All she got was the follow of his eyes on her until she escaped around a corner.

* * *

Harriet headed in the wrong direction at first, mildly dazed and catching eyes with a ghoul that stared at her as if she'd turned green. Perhaps it was the blood stains…or he'd been one of the few that'd caught her bare ass earlier.

She half expected Charon to appear in front of her, but the path remained clear and within minutes she was in the bathrooms. The light was just as blindingly bright as it'd been before and she purposefully overlooked her reflection while passing the mirror. She felt like hell, so it would be only fair that she look like hell as well.

Like her own vault, the water from the shower was lukewarm. Better than cold but never as good as the fire heated baths she and Charon would make…

There was no lock on the stall so the door hung halfway open, wafting cold air in periodically.

As she showered, she kept one eye on the bathroom door. With no soap she did her best, wringing her hair out countless times until the water came out clear after a final squeeze. Once her hands squeaked against her skin she felt relatively clean.

Charon probably had soap, probably had warmer water, a lock too – but accepting to use that shower of his was admitting something. She wasn't sure what that something was, but she wanted to avoid it all the same. The way he'd looked at her had been unsettling, and not in a completely unpleasant way. It was one of the first caring looks he'd given her since she'd gotten here.

Under the spraying water she couldn't hear the chatter through the walls, only muted bangs of whatever was going on upstairs. Maybe Charon was having a fit, slamming things into one another in male rage. The idea, while theatrical, made her feel good…as if he cared enough to have a fit over her disregarding him.

She slumped against the steel wall, letting the gradually chilling water run down her front, eyes still on the door; out of focus.

He'd been there; Charon had been there when they dragged her in from the wastes, wasn't he?…how long ago had that been? A few hours, maybe? Two days?

Her feet slipped lightly, almost toppling her when she recalled lying in the blood, Charon's fists in her jacket and in one hand was the brown paper bag. The trinket, _her_ trinket...or more precisely the one she'd give him and the one he'd left her with when he bailed on her.

"Oh shit…_shit_. Fuck!"

She bound her head against the wall, ignoring the pain. He had _it_, and if she wanted _it_ back...the bastard knew she'd have to come to him for _it_. Must have been why he hadn't followed her. He'd never let her walk away from him before, never taken her silence as an answer after she'd released him from his obligatory stance.

The urge to sink down, curl up and feel sorry for herself was tempting; to hide her head in her knees and wish herself away to another place and time, but she was better than that, and proved it by locking her knees defiantly, even as the burn stung in her eyes. In the end, no matter the sentimental value, _it_ was still just an object...nothing special besides the emotions it'd been soaked it. It was a silly trinket, one she could - if she tied - could forget about.

A screech; a familiar noise, told her the bathroom door was opening. She slid against the wet metal, out of view from the crack in the stall door. Who ever was with her didn't make much noise, in fact she heard nothing at all, no footsteps, no running sinks or swinging toilet doors…just the lock of the door as it closed.

"H-hello...?" It could have been anyone, even a male ghoul for all she knew. Her filthy clothes, still protruding with the well hidden .32 lay crumpled in the corner of the shower, as far away from the back-spray of water as was physically possible. It was a comfort knowing the gun was there, but the act of retrieving it in a threatening situation wasn't a quick thought.

No one answered her, but the absent footsteps finally sounded under the resonance of the running water. She couldn't tell if they were coming towards her or not.

She rolled her head, peeking out through the crack in the stall door, seeing a well armored shoulder, but nothing else.

Charon? - was her first thought, then Cora? Apep?...it couldn't have been Samael, the ghoul was too small. Could it have been Aser? The trader didn't wear armor though...

"I have some...clothes for you.", and she sighed, almost sliding down the wall in relief. Why she thought anyone but Cora would come into the women's bathroom as she was showering, she didn't know, but she was glad all the same. The corner of her lips curled as her hand fumbled behind her back for the shower dial. The water was freezing by now anyways.

Outside, with her arm slipping through the crack, the air was oddly warm. An article of clothing was shoved in her hand. The material was...pink?

"Are you serious?", she couldn't hold back the incredulous sound of her voice. Pink? Who thought that giving her a pink, white trimmed dress was a good idea?

"Don't be picky. It's just until Pourriture can soak out the blood stains."

Cora paused, as if taking in a needed breath, "By the way, I'm not touching your clothes, you'll be taking them to the _doctor _yourself…I can smell them from here." Harriet smiled at the jabbing way she ended her remark and already had the dress around her neck. No footsteps - so that meant Cora was still standing in front of the stall. She grinned; the warm sense of appraisal the reaction to the ghoul woman's presence.

When the dress covered enough, she used a knee against the door, opening it to the sight of Cora and her straight expression. As she straightened out the gaudy material the hint of a rueful smile formed on Cora tattered lips. Something told her she was getting enjoyment out of this.

"I must say, twenty nine hours of sleep and a shitty shower does you good."

So it'd been that long. It hadn't felt that long, yet it would explain the way her knees shook like gelatin. The water slopped on the floor as she wrung out the ends of her hair; smaller droplets bouncing off the floor against her feet.

"You had some visitors..." She paused, thumb still hooked under the thick sleeve of the dress. Cora was eyeing her oddly.

"Like who?", she muttered, trying to sound uninterested.

"Aser was the most frequent, from what I heard. Kept bringing you these useless little pinwheels...You didn't see them?"

Harriet shook her head, confirming Cora's assumption. What was a pinwheel anyways? She thought of asking, but figured she could see for herself shortly. The silence hadn't be the slightest bit awkward, at least on Harriet's end, and when they both left - bodies close - each had small smiles on their faces. The warmth from Cora was pleasant against the contrast of the prickling cold as they navigated the corridors. Pourriture hadn't been in the medical bay, so Cora had her place her clothes in a trash bin filled with ammonia smelling water.

There was no sign of nothing that wasn't medical equipment or janitorial supplies. Nothing that resembled a wheel of bobby pins...

After another injection of med-x, which hurt little through the material of the dress, Cora excused herself, leaving an open invitation at _Dante's_ for her. The gestured was appreciated, but the idea of being in the bar in this ridiculous pink dress didn't bode very well…or drinking for that matter, so Harriet smiled but declined the offer. Besides, she had a certain ghoul to check up on...as well as one to avoid.

In the end it mattered little what else she did today, as long as she waited until the last minute to approach Charon.

With one last glance around the room for the pinwheels, and finding none, she turned and left, running fingers through her knotted hair. A brush would have been pleasant but just like the eventual meeting with Charon; it mattered little.

* * *

The amused looks hadn't bothered her, at least not as much as she'd originally thought, and only a few snickered openly as she walked by. Before, upon first arrival, the passageways had been blinding, now though the lights were dim, leaving much of the floor and ceiling cast in shadows. It was heady; the diffused lights, the fuzz of med-x, and the soft music fluttering through the Vault. Too say that the simple act of walking down the corridors was pleasant, wouldn't have been a lie. Everything felt strangely good…that is until she bumped into Apep.

The ghoul, despite the stunned idiom he presented, looked fine…he looked, suddenly fine?

"Harriet." He nervously said her name, glancing behind her in brief hysteria.

"W-what are you doing here…this i-iss the male courters…" His teeth had started to knock against each other as he finished speaking…and if he hadn't quickly shoved his hands in his pockets she would have assumed they'd been shaking even more than his lips.

"You can't tell me you're that shocked…?", when he just gawked at her; the side of his mouth twitching downwards she did her best to seem uplifting, "I came down to see how you were…I…well, I remember enough to be surprised that your up…walking."

"Don't take offense, ma'am, but It'd be best for me…and for you, if we tried to avoid one another from now on. I have doubts that Cerberus would punish you…for anything, but he wouldn't think twice about me." He stared, watching her eyes and very quickly she felt that shamefulness again. It had been her fault; no one could tell her otherwise and the least she could do was respect his favor.

The situation made her cheeks flush with embarrassment, guilt and something else just as potent. She didn't know what to say to him, felt as though she should have come up with some form of a merit but alas…everything sounded artificial. So she just turned, casting him one last glance topped with a forced smile and removed herself from the corridor as hastily as she could manage.

Back in the common room Harriet slumped against a protrusion in the wall under the dome, specifically to avoid any possible watching eyes. A ghoul besides her, old and normal had been kind enough to offer her a cigarette. She took it gladly, saying her thanks and allowing him to lean in to light the roll for her. The smoke was rich and spicy making her think to ask if the ghoul grew his own tobacco, but as she smoked she forgot to question him. The nicotine relaxed all the nerves that had flared to life upon bumping into Apep. Still, as she rubbed the back of her scalp against the wall, ignoring the side glance from the ghoul, she couldn't help wonder how he'd recovered so quickly…

Of all the years she'd spent with Charon she honestly couldn't remember if he healed any faster than she. Surely if the radiation was potent enough it seemed to act as a pain killer, but never had it healed him any fast than traditional stimpacks did her…

In silence she smoked with the ghoul, exchanging a friendly, if not expected smiled, when he took to looking at her.

Before the ghoul left he slipped her another cigarette, saying it was a get well present. He'd turned and left before she could come up with a decent thank you.

The contact and smoke had done her good, and suddenly the world seemed a little better. She hid the roll behind one ear despite the dampness of her hair. It felt good to have the light pressure of the cigarette against her temple, just as it did when she lay in the dust leaking out like a stuck molerat. It still didn't feel like it'd been over a day that it'd happened. Yet as she rubbed the tips of her fingers against her stomach, scratching the fabric against the cut stitches, it felt like it'd been a week ago. All the stimpacks and med-x did their jobs, and did them well.

The end of her roll tasted stale, yet still good enough to take one last heavy drag before stubbing it out on the sole of her boot and depositing it in a soggy trash bin with millions of others.

The smell coming from the bin was atrocious, but the drop shadow on the ground, flowing from the dome above her was much more unsettling. The by now familiar stance, surveying from his office was cast right in front of her. Even his shadow was impressive. She glanced upwards, seeing the stubby snake graffiti encircling the glossy start of glass.

It wasn't time to see _him_ yet…and if she had her way it would never be time.

It would be foolish to think he hadn't un-wrapped the trinket yet; stupid to think he hadn't already ran his fingers over it, smelt it, and maybe even cleaned it.

She sneered, thumbing the cigarette behind her ear, thinking over the short list of things she could procrastinate with. There was boozing with Cora, watching her clothes dry, and…Aser. That ghoul always knew just the wrong things to say in just the right way.

Smiling, she pushed off the wall gently, careful not to move into the dome's line of sight. Perhaps she could figure out what those pinwheels were all about and possibly find a reason to nag on someone?...besides something told her the gifts hadn't been made out of bobby pins.

Aser didn't look up when she walked in, barely even moved at all…just remained slumped forwards with elbows on the counter; his scared chin in one hand. His eyes were half open as his finger barely flicked against a shiny…swirling…fan…item. The hypnotizing object was in an eddy of color, brimming against the light above Aser's head.

She stepped forward, catching his attention with a roll of his eyes. For a brief moment he looked surprised, as if something unusual had danced out the side of his vision, but the expression was gone quicker than she could dwell on it. Back was his sly nature, lips curling upwards in a suitable way…

"Howdy doo Harriet?" As he stood up his hand swiped the sill rotating cyclone under the counter, removing it with an odd type of grace. "I shouldn't think it too surprising that your up and wandering around already, should I?"

The way one eye lowered and the other arched towards her made her lips curl, just as his did. "I would hope not…if anyone wouldn't be I'd expect it to be you."

"Is that sooo?" His brow vaulted, unable to show just how devious he was with the lack of an eyebrow, but she could tell enough by his thick nasally tone.

Instead of answering she ambled to the counter, acting as if she was tracing her fingers along the counter instead of gripping the edge for support. Aser didn't seem to know the difference, and if he did, he didn't show it.

"Can you drink yet?" He sounded hopeful past the strained indifference.

"Probably, doesn't mean I have the urge though…to be honest water is even a nuisance right now."

"Then booze does sound out of the question…" his normal façade wavered again; a look of uncertainty crossing his face before his eyes hardened and his tone became witty again,"…but I have other ways of getting you cushy."

She smirked, regretting the slant her eyes gave after the fact. Aser just grinned, dull teeth exposed in an expression of pure delight. What did she just encourage?

Again he looked oddly…un-Aser. He glanced around as if there could be ghouls hiding behind the colorful packs of ammo. "I uh..got you a…well here…"

The ghoul who had yet to act much more than pervasive and smooth, was now sporting a very bashful look. The sight, while refreshing, didn't seem to ft properly on his face.

He placed one, two and then three of the fan-like objects on the counter before him. Each one he gave a flick with his thumb and forefinger. They twirled at a much faster rate than when she'd first seem the lone one. All of a sudden it clicked, and with the swell of elation she also felt a mild amount of ignorance for not putting all the pieces together before.

"They're the pinwheels."

She almost missed the suspicious cock of his brow. "I figured you wouldn't know what they were. Were they a Vault craft for you as well?"

"No, Cora told me you brought them by while I was out but I didn't se-…wait…'as well'? What do you mean 'as well'?"

She'd been crouched against the counter, aligning her eyes with the spinning swashes, and now as she peered up at Aser, the curiosity was palpable. Thinking back to their first words, he had indeed mentioned her as a "fellow vault rat"…hadn't he?

"Never mind.", his head shook to the side, and then he stared down at her with eyes glassy. "Do you like them? – or…should we burn them? I bet they'd blaze up beautifully." He chuckled, easing himself it seemed more than anything else.

As one of them slowed its twirl she reached out, giving one curved section a swift tap. It spun with less relish than when Aser set them in motion, but the shiny colors still looked beautiful, even without flames licking them.

She smiled, forgetting about the question he'd asked her, instead opting to turn the next two in rapid succession.

Aser leaned down, watching her through the twirling pinwheels. She could see him with his chin in his hand; staring, but she didn't mind. The way the pinwheels coiled faster and faster the more she tapped the edges fascinated her. The mechanics of it were so simple, yet the reaction it gave her was phenomenal; it was like she was a little child again, at a loss for words when she saw her first projecting night light. The clouds that she'd never personally seen had been cast on her walls when her father turned the lights out, and now…as she rested her chin on the counter, flicking the pinwheels with childish enthusiasm, she felt twenty years younger.

She took her time; seconds or minutes, she didn't know. But when she withdrew from the pinwheels Aser was beside her. His body close; so close she could feel his breath brushing the strands of hair off her face…and it was then she realized that he was actually quite tall…imposing even.

Maybe it was now that he put his words into action, and despite her mild attraction to him her body only recoiled as he grew closer. The material of his scratchy shirt pressed into her dress, heat seeping into her.

She couldn't look at him, knowing how he was gazing down at her and already prepared for the rough hand that rose to rest on the base of her neck. The contact felt nice; years upon years without any physical touch especially one with mostly good intentions was almost foreign.

"Aser…", she swallowed a noise past the thump in her throat when his fingers thrust up her neck and into her hair. The action sent a bolt up her belly; from pain and something else…almost upsetting because of how good it felt. She was prepared when he leaned in - but like Charon's slap - Aser's kiss was just as sudden. It would have been easier; easier to push him away if he'd come at her with what she assumed was his normal approach, but he just grazed his weathered mouth along her own dry lips in a very gentle manner.

It was hard to pull away; to grasp the corner behind her and turn her head to the side. One of his rough hands brushed hair aside from her cheek, almost un-phased from her rejection.

She moaned, yes…she moaned when he pushed his lips to hers again. He was much more fervent than the first attempt, taking a cheek into his hand when she twitched against him.

This was wrong, but it wasn't one of those good-wrong sort of things…or possibly it was. Either way, she knew when she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, that the consequences for this little fiasco would be worse than the pleasant act.

Aser continued to kiss her, pushing her against the counter with the smallest amount of pressure as the world went on around them. In her mind, as guilty as it all was, she imagined Charon. With her eyes closed and her fingers pressing into the crease of his belt, it was too easy to slip into the illusion…

…and when he pulled away, only to brush a scratchy thumb against her jaw, she slowly came back to reality. It wasn't Charon, but Aser…who surprisingly hadn't tried anything more…didn't look as if he was going to do anymore.

Aser must have seen the doe eyed expression on her face because he merely huffed out a grunting laugh. "I don't always have to be crude you know…as shocking as that may be…", when all she did was stare dumbly up at him, lips still parted he tried his best to smile, "…though I can be if _that_ was disappointing."

His eyes narrowed, and despite his large eyes and his thin mouth, coupled with the gruesome scar trailing down his face, he made her stomach clench in delight.

This was really bad.

"Aser…"

"Try not to get hurt again. The days before you showed up were fine: repairing weapons, selling junk…fucking whores…it was good, but yesterday…", his hands went up to her shoulders, squeezing a few times as if he was kneading something that felt too soft, "…if you need to tuck tail and run I get it…you can't blame a man for trying though." , and despite his words his expression remained humble and after a few seconds he managed to give her that slimy grin again, though she could see how his eyes remained cloudy.

She pressed her lips together, rolling the flesh in a way to rid the tingle he'd given her. If she'd met him before she'd found Charon, maybe she'd have different ideas right now; maybe she'd start kissing him right now. But instead of Aser's kiss helping her forget about the man they all called Cerberus, it only made her hate for him shrink.

…but Aser hadn't hit her, hadn't left her when she needed a companion the most, he even gave her pinwheels…and…

"I ha-", and then, just as she'd gathered up the right words to say the loud speaker blared above them. Aser didn't look to the speaker up in the corner of the room, just watched her as she sucked in a choking breath. Charon's voice was booming through the intercoms; broadcasting through all of _Abyss_ that _she_ – Harriet - was to head up to his office, "immediately".

For a brief moment she had the paranoid thought that he had cameras installed; that he'd seen Aser kissing her, but the amused face of Aser told her she was indeed being unreasonable.

A final squeeze, and then he released her, stepping back around the counter as if nothing had happened. He gave one of the three pinwheels a flick of his finger, watching absentmindedly as it twirled.

"Remember what happened last time…don't think you need to provoke another shiner. One is flattering…", he leaned over, elbows on the counter, giving the rest of the cyclones the same simple brush, "…two is just feral."

Aser gave her a little glance, one that eased her like only mentats had been able to recently. She smirked, unable to form a smile what with the way he was rolling his eyes idly.

"I'll stop by later."

"…and I'll be waiting."

She left with his eyes burning pleasant holes into her backside. Her nerves should have been on fire with the thought of approaching Charon; knowing he'd be holding the trinket in his hands when she arrived, but elation was almost the only thing she felt. The cold air against her bare arms didn't even bother her, nor did the purposeful shove a passing ghoul gave. Everything felt good again.

The day...no, the night was a serious of highs and lows, but the highs were good enough to forget about the lows…past and possible future ones.

When she made her way through the snaking corridors, up the stairs and within the open door Charon was waiting for her, sitting at his desk with hands locked under his chin; the newly polished cigarette case positioned in front of him.

The trinket - ablaze with an engraved rocket blasting for the moon - sat as if on display for their eyes only…

…and as she stepped forward, taking a seat before Charon and the rectangular case he caught eyes with her.

Her teeth sank into her freshly kissed lips…because for the first time since she'd set him free, he stared at her like a helpless child; eyes glassy and mouth lax, just waiting for his mother to tell him everything would be alright.

* * *

As always, review if you have the time; will help let me know what sucked, what was awesome, what was so-so...or what needed help.


	5. Circle 5:hell's what you make of it

Chapter five! Hooray. At least that's how I'm feeling at this point. There is some sexual content in this one, no gore but filthy things all the same; just a formal warning to any of you who have enjoyed the story without it thus far.

As always enjoy!

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Considering the effort Cerberus had been putting into his populace; the looks, the speeches, and the threats that he'd been handing out like guns at an apocalypse, Harriet appeared well.

Her face was fresh, her hair was clean, and nothing of what he feared seeing in her face he saw now. It could have been the headiness of the med-x, but whatever the reason he saw little malice behind her stare as she settled into the seat before him.

Perhaps that look meant no one had bothered her while she waltzed around the corridors alone? Without him he'd assumed; even dreaded the idea of someone cornering her, maybe even a group of soldiers bounding her between them, jostling her in the tender state she was in. Tensions ran high and in the end even he didn't know how far his own men and women would go.

She seemed healthy as well as elated though. The quick thinking of Cora and…of _Apep_, along with Pourriture's work must have done her good…very good. The tired eyes and greasy hair he'd seen her with at first were long gone.

He skated his eyes along the rouse skin of her arms and chest, no longer pale and yellow. She'd always been a rare combination of brains and beauty…and it'd been no wonder everyone in that vault of hers had hated her. Even with the still prominent black eye she was pretty.

Harriet's expression turned impatient; lips pursing under his intent look.

She was waiting for him to speak; just the idea of it made his heart thud faster. Despite the lack of turmoil on her face, there was something wrong with the way her mouth puckered; the way her eyes glazed over as she narrowed them over the cigarette case.

Cerberus remembered the moment she'd given it to him; the moment she'd pressed the case against his chest in the dank memorial gift shop, just hours before he'd thought her life was over…and with it his life as well. The smile on her face, when she'd mumbled how smoking was the least of their concerns and how at least he could do it with a little style. The comment had been enough to make him balk.

Cerberus almost cracked a smirk, recalling how she just smiled wider when he acted as if she'd insulted him; as if she'd said he didn't have style at all.

No one had given him a gift before…an object such as this case. He'd thought of her as a gift, and the case had done nothing but confuse him at first.

Her gaze flickered from the object at hand up to his face, as if comparing them.

He could only trust she felt more for him than the tarnished case…but common sense told him that was hoping too strongly. The case was a symbol of what they'd shared once, something he was having a difficult time trying to rear back.

"What is this?" The question came out so much smoother than he'd assumed she could manage.

He lowered his head, shoulders shaking with silent mirth while keeping his eyes poised on her. It was too late for her to be playing games like this, but he expected no less from her.

"You know _what_ it is." His tone was boorish, more so than he'd anticipated but he reached out to tap the case just the same. The metal chinked under his rough fingers, thudding between them like the beginning of a song; an anthem.

"No…" She groused. "…I meant, what is _this_?" She gestured between the two of them with four loose fingers; that missing digit making him think of her as more of a poorly assembled doll than a woman.

These past years he'd been able to think and act quickly, whether the situation called for a verbal or physically violent reaction...but with her he couldn't help but falter. Nothing came to mind as sure as most things did.

She just stared at him; eyes shifting barely a fraction while he held back the growing look of unease. She'd already caught him with a gloomy look before and _hell_ if he let her see it on his face again.

He began the weak conversation, structure the only thing stringing his words together. "Was this meant for your eyes solely…or had you plans to show me?"

"What do you think…?"

She obviously felt well enough to keep him guessing. The questions he'd ask were thrown back at him; making everything feel one-sided, as if he were spit-balling questions at a Robobrain.

"Why would you think that?", another amended response which was no better than silence.

The pussy footed conversation made him crave a smoke. Promptly he upended a Barker brand cigarette from his tattered pack, lighting it before ringing his fingers together. The smoke soaked into his lungs, only releasing enough to muddle the clear air between them when he exhaled. He placed his finger tips against the case, letting his cigarette dangle between his broken lips.

He wanted to caress the trinket while she watched him, as if it would express everything he was thinking in just that one gesture. Did she not notice that he'd cleaned it, or was she ignoring the spick and span way it shined? – probably the later. Her eyes seemed to shake as she stared at a spot above his head.

She was stubborn, more so than him maybe...which must have been something that'd grown since he'd left her.

Cerberus didn't answer her question, partly because he didn't have a good answer and partly because the silence had gone on long enough for the answer to seem belated anyways...This silence was awkward; scratchy and long. In admittance, he really had nothing special to say. Seeing her was the only thing on his mind…besides the cigarette case of course. The engraved dents darkened in his view, making the whole thing look more like a damaged weapon than a harmless case.

Somewhere in the vault a record player came to life, loud in the lengthily silence and almost threatening and he took that moment to suck again at his cigarette.

When the harmony broke her eyes slid to his and it was then he saw how much she truly loathed sitting across from him; how she would give almost anything to get up and leave. The look crushed something hidden under his ribs that - before her - would have made him sick with himself.

So, like he'd never done before and never planned to, he begged her.

He tilted the case in his hands, holding onto it like a delicate dead leaf, barely feeling the smooth metal above his damaged fingers. With a lung full of air he set his eyes on her and begged…at least as much as he could.

"Stay."

Harriet looked unfazed but behind the fog he saw her eyes shift from him…down to the case as quickly as light could fill a dark room.

He knew he had her when her lips parted; a signal that she'd let down her guard, trying to understand exactly what it was he was implying...which was everything and at the same time nothing.

After a few seconds the lids below her eyes wrinkled in challenge.

"I want to be allowed to carry my gun...", her gaze slanted, followed by a demand more than a request, "...everywhere and anywhere."

"And...?", that wasn't all she wanted, couldn't have been.

He'd promise her anything at this point, even if the promises were hollow...which in a sense they all were, no ghoul in _Abyss_ would be happy with a smoothskin lugging a carbine around the place, especially one associated with Apep's stomach injury.

"I also want a spot in the team you'll be sending to the Brotherhood's armory. I know where it is...among other things...", she paused. He saw her judging his reaction to her request as if instead of Cerberus he was just another person that needed persuading, "...and you could use a spy, just as much as they could."

She was right, but it was hard for him to ignore all the reasons why her little idea was folly.

Another team wouldn't be sent out for another a week or so, at least not until they calculated out how much loot they'd acquired from the bunker, plus the idea of letting her ass outside wasn't the most pleasant; not when the first time he'd seen her back from a quest she'd returned with a hole in her belly.

"...done." He spat out the word as if it'd been a hot coal in his mouth, burning and scaring him.

The damage was done though...and the burn wouldn't heal until she was back from the armory unscathed. The worry had already started.

It was then, as he sat before her, watching her mouth curved upwards in a triumphant smile, that he remember what it felt like to truly care about her again. It didn't feel great.

This was the end of the world; the result of mankind's perpetual violence and she was akin to a fish struggling for water on a parched rock…it was only a matter of time, and that was what made him ache the most. He'd live…but she would die…and caring about how soon it happened was the worst.

But she was giving out a hint of a smile, and whether it was fake or not, it looked nice; nice enough for him to forget about the pit of stress building in his stomach.

Her four fingered hand shot up across the table, swift but trembling. He looked at it, as if the clean fingernails were electric; ready to shock him like only a broken wire could.

The contact; the feel of her clean calloused hand was what had him grasping her before he could think what he was actually doing, which was sealing the deal. Her shake was weak, not the norm he'd always witnessed from her...even felt a few times in the early days. Then the warmth of her touch was gone, leaving his gloved palm - with the red destroyed fingers bare - hanging in mid-air to grow cold.

He itched to grasp her again; to tug her over the table as he'd first done and do terrible...terrible things to her.

She stole a smoke from his crumpled pack, oblivious to the thoughts rolling around in his head; the thoughts of her bent over the desk…of her hair knotted around his fingers when he would finally drive himself home.

If he'd held little than physical attraction for her he could see himself forcing her. She'd be weak, especially with the dopey effects of the med-x flowing freely in her veins.

Her lighter sparked, catching the tip of his smoke before the end flared red hot.

At first she might struggle…but soon enough she'd just give up…give in.

Smoke seeped out of her mouth; thick and white. The nicotine laced fog rolled up past her face, gathering above their heads. His and her expelled smoke mingled against the ceiling, building and building…and…_fucking_.

A creak as she shifted in her seat pulled him back from his thoughts. Immediately he felt sick; a sensation that'd been happening as frequently as he'd been uttering her name to himself…alone...pathetically.

Cerberus sat in silence, pushing his eyes away from her with shame. He needed to get his act together. It'd only been three days, and already he was having fantasies of fucking her, with or without her consent.

It'd been too long, that's all it was…he should have indulged himself in the whores while they could stomach the constant attention. Maybe now, if he'd caved into the lust, he wouldn't be using his restraint just to keep himself in his chair; to keep from lunging on her.

If Harriet saw the conflict going on behind his tight lips and downcast eyes, she didn't say anything…she just watched as his conscience ate itself. Her lips pulled at the damp end of her cigarette, calmly watching him as if the act was amusing. If he remembered right she always did feel good after getting what she wanted, especially if that something was from someone hard to convince. Right now she looked high on whatever satisfaction she felt.

He could feel his fingers start to twitch, needing something to hold; something to roll between them.

Hesitantly he procured another cigarette, fumbling once before lighting the end with her rusty lighter; the one she'd left near the pack.

The hot acrid smoke filled him, and yes…it was good, but it only reminded him of the cigarette's she'd light for him in the past. He'd had more satisfying smokes when they'd found down time in between days of travel and nights of raids. After she was done bucking above him she'd smirk; push sweaty strings of hair out of her face before leaning down with him still stiff inside her.

When he put the cigarette against his lips, inhaling once more he could imagine she'd been the one to place the roll in his mouth, just like she'd done so many times. She would leave the roll to hang between his lips loosely; shifting on him in a very pleasant way before lighting it…never once would she tear her eyes from his.

The memory was erotic…and quickly he found his right foot tapping in quick succession against the metal floor, trying to distract him from other…areas.

"I'm leaving now..."

He barely heard her outside his mild reprieve into old memories. When he looked up – his cigarette burning dangerously close to the fingers that clenched it tight – she was pushing the chair back in with little sympathy for what ever she thought he was going through.

Never had he been one to say please…and if he had he couldn't remember uttering the word. So, instead of asking her "please stay" or even something as simple as "don't go" like any other man would, he tore himself out of his chair and bounded around the desk after her.

She turned, catching his advancement with as shocked an expression as she could manage with the drugs in her system. He grabbed for her; reaching out to grasp at her arms, her dress, anything to pull her close, but she twisted from him and back stepped.

Ultimately, it was a bad move. Just one more hurried evasion and she bounced back against the desk and into his chest.

She was warm, god was she warm. Her hair smelt sweet. No traces of dust, dirt…or even the antiseptic smell of soap…it was just _her_ he smelt as he pressed his face against the side of her head. Further down and against her neck, despite the stifled sound of her discontent, he could even hear the pulse jumping under her jaw.

Her cigarette fell against his jacket, landing on the floor in conjunction with a curse from her lips.

Deeper he inhaled, but under all the nostalgic smells that he remembered so well…there was something else; something rotten and not _her_.

Hands, with a single missing finger landed on his arms, barely grasping but firm enough for him to understand why they were there. She didn't want him this close; knew she couldn't do anything about it either…

The control was exhilarating…but that smell; the smell that wasn't her…he growled against her neck.

"Who's been touching you?" It wasn't Cora…the only one that could get away with it…and she'd bathed after Pourriture patched her up…

He went still against her, waiting for any signs of a reaction from her that would tell him he wasn't just being paranoid. She did indeed stiffen, but nothing too evident.

When he leaned back, towering over her, she had nothing but confusion on her face. If she was playing him, she was good…but he couldn't be sure. Surly…in her condition nothing had happened between her…or anyone else…?

No one would think to touch her anyways. No doubt, despite his warning to the guards, they'd been gossiping about her…and him. They would know not to mess with her…

"Even if someone did it'd be none of your fucking concern." Venom - that was how her voice spat out at him and everything about his past history told him anger followed her lies, but he ignored it...if not for her sake then for his.

He felt too out of control; too instinctual for his liking when situations like this pertained to her. Something could easily trigger him quicker than he could talk himself down.

Harriet was good at many things, but she was only great at two things…shooting and lying.

Quickly his fanatical suspicion ebbed when she made a short attempt at escape that left her body twisting against his. Without thinking he palmed her shoulders, trailing them down her arms, over the smooth skin.

_Too soft_…she was _too_ soft.

The need, the skin, the smell, and the taste; he tasted the skin under her ear, feeling her jerk against the contact, but all it took was a tight squeeze against her arms and she settle down.

Everything just reminded him of those few months after she'd coaxed him between her legs; how unsatiated he felt every second of everyday. No matter how much she gave him he always needed more of her, never could he get enough.

He had to have a taste.

"Charon…", and it was the way she said his name that made everything crumble. Inside that mouth, which he knew was parted right now, she uttered his name between a plea of need and mercy.

He'd give her what she needed, and he'd do it with mercy.

But he couldn't help but be violent when he lifted her on the desk, eagerly slamming her ass down on the metal table as the itch in his throat traveled up to his tongue. She protested enough to make him hesitate for a brief moment, but with eyes wide and body shivering he couldn't stop for things as trivial as her little noises of discomfort. She'd be making louder noises soon; he'd pull them out of her like she used to pull them out of him.

Never had he needed anything so desperately before, even when he'd been dehydrated and starving he'd never attacked water or food as he started attacking the dress covering her thighs. The material ripped, separating a few inches where already the fabric had been frayed.

It was quick; taking seconds.

Despite the way her knees touched, keeping him away in a feeble attempt, they were easy to pull apart…and when he got a good look at her – glistening with anticipation – he knew she wasn't as opposed to his idea as she acted.

She'd tried pressing his head away, digging her nails into the pockmarked skin of his scalp as he descended on her. No doubt she would have had both hands fending him off if he hadn't yanked her thighs, tilting her backwards and disrupting her balance.

With a simple jerk he had her against his mouth. What was better than the sight, the smell, and the heat was hearing her faint sound of defeat as he touched his tongue to her. The struggles in her died…

…and with a few more gentle strokes that hand of hers wasn't pushing anymore but pulling. He brushed his lips along her, doing nothing more than that to coax her legs to open further, hips jumping at the contact. The lack of struggle left his hands free to squeeze her skin instead of holding it open.

He breathed against her. The air between her legs was heady and thick; potent like only keen arousal could be. If he missed anything so wholly selfish about her than it was this.

When she finally moaned; sweet as only an enemies dying scream could be, he sank to his knees, cradling one stiff thigh in his hand so he could tilt his mouth further against her. She was almost too clean, tasting of barely anything as he reacquainted himself with the creases and folds.

She still had the wits to jerk away from him every other minute, as if her body was feeling too good to tell her mind to fuck off at that moment.

The urge to finish her off quickly was enticing; to prove her how little her feelings had changed for him…at least before she could regain her common sense, but that nag disappeared the moment he felt her tugging at the loose chunks of hair on his head. She urged him on, whether she was thinking clearly or not. It didn't matter; he wouldn't dare encourage her to think twice.

This moment may have be the one he needed to turn her around…or maybe he already had; it would explain why she only fell back on the desk with a gasp when he slipped his tongue inside her.

Something told him she'd hate him again once he pulled away from her…maybe loath him even more than before, but right now…as he rubbed under her thighs, lifting one knee over his shoulder so he could press a finger to replace his tongue…he didn't give a shit.

So he sucked against her, feeling her swell against his tongue as he rubbed rough fingers against her nerve endings. No matter how long he'd been separated from her, from the very thing he was attending to right now, he couldn't forget all the places she'd helped him explore. He knew her like the back of his hand, even after all this time.

Too soon she came; muscles pulling weakly along his sunken finger. A few more licks and she bucked against him, mewling like a wounded animal.

He used to tease her afterwards, make her scream in frustration as the painful sensitivity drove her mad. The future prospects of doing something like this again were slim, but he could always take a page out of her book and be hopefully optimistic.

Her stitched stomach could only handle the little tremors of her orgasm anyways…so he kept on his knees, caressing her thighs as he exhaled against the wet flesh, prolonging the delicious heat.

She made a few soft noises, and those murmurs made him feel better than every skull off every hood ever could. It was all short lived though.

Not long after her heavy breaths calmed did she started untangling her legs from his shoulders and hands; removing them as if they'd been held in a bear trap. He slipped on a growl, trying to pull her back to him. He'd been close to starting back up again, his mouth so close to her, but she planted a heel into his collar bone and shoved him back on his ass with strength she hadn't shown until now.

So…she did have enough vigor to fend him off…

She'd had her fill; enjoying what he had to give and now she was disposing of him...a taste of his own medicine.

She fumbled, closing her legs while straightening out her dress.

He just leaned back on his palms and watched her hair hang in her face as she struggled to push it behind her ears. Already he began hatching new ideas as she avoided his eyes, trying to compose herself.

She was beet red, not just flushed, but _red_.

He watched her like a hawk, catching her eyes darted around the room franticly before lying on him. She must not have liked the look he wore, for her eyes lit up from the post-orgasmic haze to glower down at him. He must have truly ruffled her feathers; a thought that made him gallant.

"It…goes without saying…you better not tell anyone about _this_." There again was that venom, as he expected.

Like only an arrogant asshole could he merely smirked, licking his lower lip suggestively with eyes dark. Her taste lingered on his tongue, stronger now after tasting his own cracked lips.

"You really are an animal…"

No, he didn't like the way she said that, but he kept up the smugness to save face. He could see past the anger on her face. She couldn't deny how much she loved it; wanted more of it. But just like him she was trying to save face as well.

It was understandable, but the consequences, whatever they were, were worth it.

"I want my gun back...", her head was cast down, staring at the moisture that'd dripped on the floor from his mouth and her arousal, "…now."

It was times like this, as he picked himself up that he wished he could see inside her head; hear what she was thinking and maybe make the right choices instead of all the wrong ones.

She hadn't moved much. One hand lay on her crumpled dress and the other splayed on the desk, barely supporting her. She looked as if he'd threatened her; yelled and beaten, rather than eaten her out.

He could have done more to her. He could have even satisfied himself as well...but she wasn't thinking about those possibilities…the least of her concerns would be the strain in his pants.

Besides, it wasn't like he could bring himself to force her anyways, not when the time came. In theory it seemed possible, but he'd had plenty of moments he could have forced her...and never could he bring himself to do it in the end.

When he grasped her hips she flinched, watching for any hidden intention. Her eyes roamed over him, as if looking through him. After a few moments she turned her head away, staring off with a frown.

With a weak nod of approval he lifted her gently from the desk, planting her on her feet. He checked to make sure she was stable; loosening his hold on her before leaving her against the desk to go secure her weapons…just as she'd asked.

Cerberus was not stupid. He knew now was not the time to do anything more than followed her word.

He gathered her gun, the combat knife and the grenade wired belt from a compartment hidden in the floor. Her eyes branded against his back the whole time. Even as he turned around her hot gaze slipped from his back to his face. He laid her weapons on the desk, by her hip that leaned on the edge.

As she equipped herself the air began to clear. No longer did he smell the heavy tang of her, nor the wetness hovering like mist in the air…even the stale cigarette smoke filtered out through the vents. Already he missed it all.

She broke the silence before he could even feel the urge to talk.

"After _that_ you're not even going to say anything...?"

Her eyes weren't on him, just hovering over something only she could see.

"…maybe berate me a little? Or maybe your waiting for me to tell you how _good_ it felt, how much I missed it or how badly I need you...need you to _fuck_ me? Is that it?"

It began like most sand storms did, just a few sharp stings against your cheeks...and then, before you knew it the choking grit was flying up your nose, in yours eyes and soon it was burying you up to the neck.

"Well, you may have starved yourself...left and stewed in your own misery, but I had men before you and I've had them after you."

She'd aimed low.

Her eyes cut as sharp as her words...and this he knew wasn't a lie.

His chest stung like only a man with a bruised pride could. She knew he'd cut himself off from others...it hadn't been hard. Only recently had he access to willing smoothskins...let alone a willing ghoul. But she, she was still beautiful...no doubt it would have been easy for her to find comfort after he'd left.

All logic told him he shouldn't have been angry; shouldn't have been furious. Logic told him if he'd been a better man none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have let others fuck her if he'd stayed by her side...but logic didn't win when she was looking at him like she was, as if she was daring him to strike her for a second time.

He won into the anger, though, "At least between the both of us there was one with integrity. You let your legs spread for even the_ poorest trader_."

He wanted a better reaction at first, the hurt in her eyes hadn't been enough, but quickly her face fell. Then, as her lips tightened and her eyes glazed he realized he went _too_ far. No insult she could have given him warranted the response he just gave her.

The muscles in his neck went lax, threatening to let his head fall with guilt but he leveled his shoulders and watched the torture grow and peak on her face.

He didn't know what to expect, anything would have been deserved, even a knife to the gut.

Ever since she arrived he'd been nothing but cold and callous. Never once did he ask what happened to her after he left, how she wound up on the floor of his office, or even told her how he really felt. He was never good at expressing anything but violence and it'd always been up to her to let him know how he was supposed to feel in the end.

If she was upset he'd either done something wrong or hadn't done something right; if she was happy he'd done something right or avoided doing something wrong...but now he went on his own judgments...and he used that to deal with her. The old way worked...this knew, _Cerberus way_, didn't work well.

When she took the four steps to him he hadn't been surprised when she'd started planting her fists into his chest, screaming insults at the places she struck him.

"You Monster! Animal!"

At first the attack had been strong, almost too much for him to keep his ground; almost too much to hold back the urge to shove her off..."Selfish backstabbing zombie. Skinless shit!- only ever good for a stupid fuck!"...but gradually the punches weakened. She'd even gone as far as try pry at his neck in an attempt to strangle him.

"I hate you for everything..." It would have been laughable if it hadn't been so entirely painful.

"...hate you for leaving me alone...alone to rot in that room like some whore..." He didn't have time to savor lack of empathy before she helped him feel all the sordid things he ought to have felt the moment he left her; this was when he felt his worst.

"…_she_ died because of you, because no one would help me."

Her forehead fell against him; fists turning outwards, only to helplessly bunch her fingers into the leather of his jacket. He could feel the heat as she hyperventilated against him.

"Everyone thought it was yours…and no one helped me."

A lump had been building in his throat as he stood, bracing against her confession, her beating, and the torment on her face; it was only now, as she looked up at him, that he realized that lump had threatened to turn into a sob. He held it in; sucking it down like it was a rancid piece of mirelurk meat.

The culmination of emotions; pity, guilt, anger, and regret…they all formed into one single point of origin, and it was now she confessed what had happened…and all the sickness he'd been unable to ignore since she showed up started to spill outwards.

"I got ill…halfway to Underworld," she spoke into him; her tone hurting more than her words, "…it was two months after you abandoned me."

Only when he reached out to grasp the back of her head did he think of whether he should have or not, but she only twisted her head to press her cheek on him, letting him give her the semblance of comfort.

"I got a bad fever, managed to get myself close to a group of Outcasts…but they just left me against that old statue…the one you'd found that stupid comic book at." As she shivered, voice trembling, he ran his bitten fingers through her hair just like he did after Pourriture yanked that thick bullet out of her.

"They didn't say much to me…left medicine but didn't say much and everything hurt…" He felt her breathe deep, pulling in the lungful with a grating sound. As she exhaled he carefully placed his other arm around her, cradling her body like a child…or at least how he imagined a person would hold a child.

"…I saw you when I lost her. I saw you far away in the heat and you were just looking at us, but it wasn't you."

"Who was it?" He leaned his chin on her head, finally finding his voice past the dryness of his mouth. Soothing her was about as impossible as making everything she'd said never happen, but he attempted at least enough to press his fingers into her scalp.

With a shift of her head she slid further into him.

"A Brotherhood…"

Her answer didn't provoke the reaction he'd assumed it would. Instead he remained quiet, smoothing the hair down her neck while keeping his eyes on the glowing green light of the door. Gwyn would be arriving soon…and it was the first time ever that he didn't want to see the ghoul.

"Her name was…Sharon." At that he arched a brow, the light in her voice so nostalgic it was sad. "…can you believe it? – fucking Sharon!"

She pushed off him with a whine as if she'd been hugging a corpse, stumbling more than him as a result. His arms fell to his sides, watching her wet face mare with mild distain. The lids under his eyes tensed as she fumed up at him with blood shot eyes.

"I actually asked, with my dead baby in my arms if that began with a "C" or an "S"?...can you imagine _that_?" She screamed the last word as close to his face as she could, shoving him backwards with a smack of her palms. He stumbled further than she'd jostled him, as if it was the least he owed her.

It was selfish, but at that moment he would have given anything to have been someone else; been somewhere else. Instead he was forced to look down at her, broken and festering with old memories; memories he wasn't there for...memories that wouldn't have happened if he'd been there in the first place.

She jerked when he leaned into her, but a rush unlike the fear of battle and unlike the lust of sex was crushing into him and he needed to protect her…even though somewhere he knew it may have been best if he'd just let her stick that combat knife in him; the one her fingers had been itching towards for the last minute or so.

"Hurt me, like I hurt you…" His voice was betraying.

Her body shook as he grasped her shoulder blades, running fingers up over her shoulders and down her back almost obsessively. No wonder she hated him, but then again…what did he expect would happen to her?

"Just…let me go.", and he did, no questions and no lingering caresses. He just let her go and she took slowly distanced herself from him.

It took a few moments for him to gather the missing nerve to face her, and when he did she was looking at him like when he'd first caught her staring at him, all those years ago. That curious look that had him examining her past the fresh face and the clean teeth; had him wondering what she looked like with a gun in her face…or a knife at her throat – which back then was significant for him.

Then she turned to the side, pausing to look back at him as stale tears caught in her clogged eyelashes.

"Remember…that case was a gift…don't loose it." He wanted many things then, but she just turned when he made eye contact, pressing the switch on the door.

As the door lifted with a soothing whine Gwyn's dusky figure was there beside the normal empty corridor. The dark ghoul just stared considerately at the floor under his feet.

Of course he was here already…as if the whole situation didn't call for something more than all the shit that'd already happened. It wasn't Gwyn's fault, but it was easy to part blame on him, at least while Harriet was still poised by the door.

She merely stiffened, knowing as well as he did that Gwyn had been there longer than necessary. But she didn't look back like he'd hoped, just spared a quick look at the darker ghoul before turning the corner and vanishing.

When the end of that silly pink dress disappeared something unfolded from his chest; something thick, long and slippery…like a festering worm having the run of his soul.

Cerberus brought up a hand to wipe off the moisture from his leather jacket, casting a quick glance at the other small puddle of moisture by his desk before watching Gwyn's face for when the ghoul finally allowed himself to make eye contact.

Yes…he'd been there long enough.

"As I said before: Don't speak of this to anyone." And like the good friend he was, Gwyn just nodded.

* * *

Cora lay with her head on the table; her regular table. One empty glass of scotch still gripped loosely in her hand as the world spun. She couldn't think rationally anymore, which had been the plan all along. The mission: a success. Nothing but… _nothing_ filled her head.

Yes, she couldn't lie that she'd seen her walk in, sticking out like the sore thumb she was in that laughable get-up, but she'd only caught her out the corner of her eye…so when she sat down it was easy to think Harriet would just ignore her…hopefully assuming she was passed out.

"Someone need help to their room?"

Honestly she was the last person she wanted to see.

Everyone not sleeping like the dead at the time had heard Cerberus' announcement…she'd been able to hear the desperation in his voice, whether anyone else could or not she didn't know. He had it bad for the smoothskin…and despite the curiosity; she didn't feel well enough to ask all the details…not that she'd get any answers anyways.

She'd been drinking to the asshole all night, and not in the merry-happy-cheers sort of way either.

Forming words had started as a thought…and ended as one as well. She could think it, but putting that into understandable speech was another thing, in fact she was surprised she hadn't started drooling on herself. Though as she thought that, a hint of wetness seeped into the cracks of her cheek…

Spoke too soon…or more like _thought_ too soon.

"Come on…if are situations were reversed you'd do the same for me." Cora frowned when a hand lifted her back into her seat, since when did she get behind her?...and what gave her the right to assume such a thing. In all honestly…Cora wasn't sure if she would, she may have even enjoyed watching Harriet drown herself in booze.

Cora could hear the smoothskin strain as she attempted to lift her up. Surprisingly a severe sense of vertigo came over her, tossing her mind against the sides of her skull. The smoothskin's triumphant noise was cut short when her ass bound back on the chair.

"Sheee'it.." Despite the alcohol, she managed to curse in pain; the throb of her tailbone did indeed hurt…but floated away quickly and soon it'd disappeared entirely…as if it'd never been there in the first place. She had to give it to Donn, his scotch was the best…the very best.

"…best'est..est" She hated that she'd let herself slur…no more talking…no more.

Again that feeling of vertigo came again; that feeling of being higher than anyone should be after ingesting all the glasses of alcohol she had.

The bar wasn't the bar anymore, just a series of blotches, both stationary and moving. The lights were bright and the shadows were dark, only making the light even more blinding.

Her knees buckled; legs sliding back and forth while the joints in her ankles grated every other step. Harriet was too good. It was hard to hate her now, and god knows Cora had tried her best…

She was sober enough to know she must have been a sad sight. It couldn't have been that late into the night, most ghouls were still out, accounting for the moving blotches passing by her. Just looking at them made her feel dizzy. The terribly ugly color of pink made up half of her vision; it told her she was still moving…despite how little she could actually walk at the moment.

Then she was falling into her bed, the familiar smell of herself all over the sheets. How had she known which bed was hers…?

She knew she had to thank Harriet when she woke up; told herself to remember at least this one act of kindness above all else.

Even her friends; her comrades, the very men and women she looked out for didn't think to take her drunken ass back to her room. The thought probably never crossed their minds, but it did Harriets…did more than cross her mind.

She hadn't left either.

Cora felt her legs being adjusted, their weight feeling foreign in someone else's hands. Air tickled through her socks when her boots were removed. The act almost made her eyes burn, feeling so unworthy of the care.

She really did try to hate her; to try and find every defect, every fault and blemish to hate her for. She didn't deserve the way Harriet placed a pillow under her head, let alone the bottle of dirty water she'd placed on the floor by the bed with a few mentats…the smoothskin even thought about her eventual hangover.

It reminded Cora of her mother…god rest her soul.

She wanted to say thanks, at least crack her eyes open to try and express through eye contact how much everything meant. After what felt like forever, her eyes pried open, but there was no pink blotch…no Harriet.

Somewhere, past the liquor, she knew she wouldn't remember this and in the morning she'd go back to hating her again…it was just her luck…

* * *

Harriet spent the night in _Resurrection_. It'd been cold, lonely, and putrid…but the night hadn't been a total let down. She'd found an old turn table in a tiny utility closet, records and all.

So as she lay now, with the low music playing she let herself enjoy the little humble high she got from taking Cora to her room.

She'd wanted to tuck her in…but the ghoul woman might not have appreciated it in the end. It was easy to get lulled up in the fantasy of taking care of someone; pretending…

She laughed; a biting horrible sound as the record skipped, repeated twice and went on its way to another song. They were duets she'd never heard before, ones that were so joyful they just ended up having the opposite effect on her. The lyrics, in her state, felt like they were speaking to her. The words; sung so convincingly, almost as if they were petting her cheeks like a caring lover.

In the hand that had all its fingers; intact besides a chunk missing from her palm, she twirled a med-x syringe. It was an hour past time for an injection, but the dose would put her asleep…and she'd decided awhile ago she wasn't ready to sleep the night away just yet.

The music was too wonderful…and as much as she hated to admit it the orgasms endorphins were still running strong. It'd been many years since she'd had someone rip a climax from her…and even before when she'd find a honest enough man, he'd never been able to do it like Charon could; sometimes she wondered if it had been a ghoul attribute. He'd been the only ghoul she'd ever been with, as well as the only man that'd ever made her bark like a dog for his attention.

Thoughts about running through the corridors, sneaking up the stairs and into his bed, ran through her mind. He'd probably keep her up all night too…

It was funny how now, as she lay alone with just the med-x and the music, she started to understand the need Charon had been feeling earlier…the bastard was still sly after all these years. She wanted him…after everything…and it was all his doing.

Another song fluttered to life, starting in a quiet chirp and gradually reaching its peak with a robust male voice. The repeated chorus was catchy, and with eyes drooping heavy with nothing but a natural high she sang along. "Send me off forever…but I ask you please…"

She butchered it, yes, but it made her smile and at this moment in time that was all that mattered. "Don't fence me in…do-todo-do…todooo…just turn…me…loose…"

The darkness settled in, but she had mind enough to slip the needle into her thigh, flushing the painkiller with nothing but a small wince. If she was lucky, which normally she was known for, she'd sleep until noon.

Sleep came just as a version of her favorite song came on.

"You are my sunshine…"

_My only sunshine._

Above the commotion; above the drunks, and the sleeping citizens, Gwyn and Cerberus sat around the wide birthed desk. Smoke filled the space under the ceiling once again, as their gruff accented voices bantered back and forth in between hands of cards.

"Where are they now? Somewhere dry I hope." Red bitten fingers bent a pair of cards into a personal line of sight while eating up the smoke from a cigarette.

"Of course. I had Samael run them down to the _Atrium_…the guns were Cora's job though." A cap clinked with others between them, making a nice fat gathering of value.

"And?"

"I'll have to go ask, the lush disappeared into _Dante's_ after taking the clothes to the…smoothskin. I'm sure she's still there." Gwyn's voice had a taste of apathy.

Cerberus just narrowed his eyes at the cards under his hand; it was shit. He felt his mouth sink at the prospect of just giving up the pot…though he hadn't enough composure to pull a good poker face tonight.

As long as the grenades and missiles were somewhere safe, the guns could take a back seat. They could be counted and organized tomorrow when everyone was awake.

Cerberus sank further against his chair, staring with his head cradled in his shoulder at Gwyn across from him. Hands of cards had been tossed around the table, caps and cigarettes in a pile; a culmination of the past three games.

They stopped their trivial poker game for another smoke.

Cerberus could feel, despite how casual they were around each other, how Gwyn nervously fidgeted his cigarette between his lips when things got quiet. He knew what was on the ghouls mind…but that didn't mean he'd entertain him with an explanation.

Gwyn was a ghoul that snuck around the hallways at night when the whores had been around; he'd slip into their rooms and leave as if he'd taken a piss. The dark ghoul didn't like getting those urges, but he dealt with them when he could, as quickly and detached as he could. It was an admiring trait as far as Cerberus was concerned, so with that in mind, it really wasn't necessary to say anything to Gwyn…he knew enough already. Knowing Gwyn he probably even understood as well.

Even if Cerberus couldn't smell her scent in the air after having his face buried in her, it didn't mean Gwyn couldn't.

The same anomalous look peered over at him past a thick cloud of smoke.

"I told her earlier to drop it Gwyn."

Once more that look deepened; his wide mouth deepening before a roll was pushed into it. After taking a long drag his friend nodded, gathering up the cards again to shuffle them like only a true player could.

They played another hand; interrupting the game only for comments about various things.

Gwyn had been busy dealing with the guards in the control room frequently for the past twenty four hours. Cerberus had his own shit to deal with, not to mention having to hide his worry over Harriet. So as they played the less they spoke. They shared the silence, enjoying the break as if it was a reprieve from some boring nine-to-five.

When the clock struck two-fifty-three Gwyn rolled two cigarettes, licking the sides with the tip of his tongue; sealing the thick smoke like a present.

They smoked again, elbows resting on the desk and eyes peering out the dome. A few ghouls were leaning over the second story ledges, looking down at something the both of them couldn't see as they puffed on their rolls at the table.

"Something else…before you go." Cerberus murmured after quickly sucking the smoke into his lungs. Gwyn arched a brow, turning his eyes to his boss, awaiting further instruction with no more than a drag of his own cigarette.

"Harriet's going with you when were ready to infiltrate the hoods armory."

There was a moment of silence; a moment where Gwyn's eyes changed little and his cigarette looked dangerously close to falling from his lips.

"What did you just say?" Gwyn was the only one with balls to question him like that. His tone demanding a repeat of the statement; it was another quality he admired and respected.

"I don't need to repeat myself. She'd going with you. Her stomach will be healed by then…and she's human. You can't deny she'd be useful to you."

"It doesn't matter that she's useful…"

"Doesn't it?" Cerberus didn't need to convince him. His word was law to all of them, even without him enforcing such a thing. He had yet to make a bad decision when it came to _Abyss_ and everyone trusted him…more or less. As of late he wasn't too sure. Gwyn was just the only one to challenge him over something as petty as dislike. The ghoul didn't get along with many besides Cerberus and a few of the stiffer guards in the Reactor level.

Gwyn just sneered; absent nose still finding the ability to wrinkle with disagreement. He didn't have to like the idea, but he knew better than to ask why the smoothskin was getting sent with him.

"The only thing she could do is seduce a patrolman anyways…", the pure immature nature of his tone only made Cerberus huff on a laugh, almost choking on the caustic smoke halfway done his throat. Gwyn smirked, obviously enjoying the reaction enough to chuckle quietly himself.

"You're the boss. She's in." Gwyn rubbed out his roll, tapping the red embers one by one into the ashtray. "I'll let you know tomorrow where we stand on a date for it." The dark ghoul tossed another freshly rolled smoke on the desk, letting the cigarette roll against Cerberus' fingers as he took his leave. It was a parting gift the ghoul normally gave him, and without a second thought Cerberus lit it up when the door shut, leaving him alone.

He left his lighter bright and glowing; the yellow flame licking up in the air from its blue base.

While he inhaled the smoke, blowing it into the flame as it flickered against the onslaught, he thought of Harriet…lying in whatever bed she was in…just sleeping.

She probably looked peaceful, or at least in his mind she did.

Cerberus left the flame standing on his desk, still ablaze as he stood. The fluorescent lights went out with the press of just one button. It was just him, the weak light, and his roll.

He sat like that for the longest time; enjoying his smoke while trying to blow the flame out with the exhale of stale smoke.

Halfway down his roll, with ash sprinkling the desk under his hand, the light finally gave up; tumbling out like a short lived sunset. He stayed in the darkness for awhile after that, watching the blotches of purples and greys form in the darkness; his vision trying to make out the shapes even though it was pointless.

When he stood, ashing out his roll, he imagined that one of these days…not too far off…he'd be walking to a bed that had Harriet in it.

He shed his clothing, piece by piece, taking in the small sounds of the wheezing vault as he tossed his boots into a corner. The only thing he took to bed with him, aside from the muscles and damaged skin, was the polished cigarette case.

It was a gift after all.

* * *

The song was 'Don't Fence Me In' by Bing Crosby and The Andrew Sister, incase anyone was wondering, also for that damned copyright and all.

Hope this was a well enough chapter, it was longer than I'd originally thought, and I revised it quite a few times. I had trouble with a few parts, hope it didn't show but if it did let me know. Also! Review if you find the time, let me know if it passed or failed your expectations for being the start of Charon and Harriet's growing "relationship".


	6. Circle 6:hell's your friend

Yes, I know this has been gathering dusk for awhile. This chapter took awhile to write, tweek, and tweek some more. Let me know what you all think - especially if you have suggestions. :) Besides that enjoy, as always.

-Don't own Fallout-

* * *

While Cora buried her face in her pillow - pushing the sticky leftover skin of her forehead into the soft material so violently that it made the pillow hard – somewhere else, on the other side of the wakening Vault Harriet was balancing on her knees…

…on her knees and naked; blowing out heaps of moist air on the clinic floor.

The smoothskin blew out the contents of her lungs over her damp clothes - having already stretched them out across the moderately clean floor. Now, on hands and knees, she proceeded to sputter out waning breathes in an incredibly vain effort to dry them faster. It would have been smarter to hang them up before she'd passed out last night…but her sex muddled brain had little but…well, sex in mind.

So now she panted, shaking her head with eyes rolled upwards as if the whole idea was stupid, and the fact that she was actually doing this was even worse – which it was.

She slumped, laying her hot stomach on the cold, cold floor; admitting the defeat physically instead of trying to pretend she hadn't just been blowing on her fucking clothes by getting up and crawling back in bed. This kind of defeat cooled the itch in her stitches anyways – where as the bed gave her the impression the bands of tubing would just bother her further.

Besides…the floor in itself felt good...

"…sooo goooood."

The door was shut to her right, but the lock was defective, and even though the button blazed red, in all honesty she didn't know if outsiders were completely safe from her nudity or not. She'd tested it out of habit earlier before she'd removed the gaudy pink dress, but some wire must have slipped and no matter what she did its prongs never latched fully.

Though, it was hard to worry about the loose lock as of now.

Pouritture may have been right when he said she lacked modesty. In a way it was true, but here – in this red polished vault – she felt safe. There were no sky-high raiders or addled Brotherhood's to rape her in here. In fact, she couldn't remember feeling any safer than she did right now; lying on this cold clinic floor like an early morning drunk in their delighted stupor – it really was quite a feeling.

With a deep exhale she craned her neck to the side, giving out a muffled crack under her skull. The clock hung above her, just barely in line with her view. It was early indeed…so, she closed her eyes, took in another heady breath through her nose, blowing it out across her clothes before entertaining the idea of a nap; a nap in the middle of Pouritture's floor in nothing but nothing.

This…this was luxury.

* * *

In the shop, behind the counter - with the brown contents of whiskey sloshing in a stained bottle - Aser squatted on his heels, feeling the effects of sleep loss less and less the more he drank.

He hadn't slept a wink since seeing Harriet off. There was something about the savory tang he'd gotten in his mouth after kissing her – it'd gotten to him, which had been odd considering he'd munched on plenty of lips since setting up shop in _Abyss_. If anything it was more the confusion than the lust over her that kept him awake at night.

"Whores..." Aser tipped the bottle high, swigging the last - and best - sip. He needed whores around.

It had to have been at least a month since the last one scampered off, scratching her arms in spite, and he couldn't help but scowl at the memory of that one. He didn't get the whore's name then; none of them really wanted to give it out anyways. Though that red-head had been the worst of them; a poor scrawny thing with shaky knees. She'd covered her eyes and mouth; just lay there with her legs spread when he paid his fee for her. He'd only ever been with her once considering...

Even that one lousy fuck had felt a little too close to rape for his likening.

So now as Aser crouched, meddled in his sexual frustration - tapping the empty bottle between his legs behind the counter like some intruder in his own shop - he waited. He waited for any signs of those firm footsteps to come clamoring down the corridor. Maybe she'd call out his name when she saw he wasn't in sight, and he could pretend in his sordid brain that it was for another reason…

It was hard not to smile at the idea. He scritched at the puffy scar against his adams apple, contemplating how he'd show himself and how she'd probably part her lips in mild surprise before giving him an agitated little smile...especially if he just popped up from behind the counter like the drunk fool he was now.

He grunted, fingering the bulge of his scar up along his neck as he remember his conversation with her about the mark. She'd looked at it like a person littered with they're own evidence of survival would; admiration in their stare. No one but other ghouls had seen the scar as just that. Even the more hardened whores looked away from him; away from his thickly bunched scar…

That first day she'd came in…

He couldn't lie; he'd been disappointed that first day. Normally he could charm himself into the pants of loose women, regardless of if he was paying or not, and damn did he fucking try his hardest with her.

His engorged libido had him bee-lining his thoughts to the pair of puppets on her chest, and when she'd gotten removed from his shop...just as she was easing up to his witty remarks he'd felt more than a little perturbed. Though, when she came back - with booze and that clean-enough smile - he'd felt something a bit more than just the twitch of his dick; it wasn't love or any of that bullshit, but it was something more than lust...just a little bit more.

When...or if she came back, he'd try his best to explain himself. Kissing her might not have been his smoothest move, but he was just as good with words as he was with his dick and sure enough he'd try his best...try...try...try...

Something told him he'd be waiting awhile...but hell, Harriet was worth the wait; until then he could always sit back here and pretend he'd disappeared, maybe pound one out to ease the tension.

In the heat of the Vault - the vents rattling above his head with a noise only a resident could truly ignore - Aser flicked a finger against the pin-wheel at his side, staring down at it's swirl of diluted colors with only the smoothskin in his head.

He was in a pickle; a jam...stuck between a rock and a hard place as everyone said. In the end, judging by the word on the street, he was possibly putting himself in front of Cerberus' shotgun. Harriet - from the mouth of Apep - was someone else's territory; a territory Aser accidently put his mouth on without thinking.

He hadn't ever felt much fear or pressure from the tall ghoul in charge, but now he was starting to get that itch everyone else had for the big guy; that itch that had near everyone beckoning on his every whim.

Even tucked away at the backside of the Vault he knew what the gossip was. What he heard might have been fragmented and askew, but...

"...shit!..." He cursed under his breath, growling it out as he curled a fist on his knee. Why didn't he think of that possibility before he kissed her? Why hadn't he put two and two together?

Cerberus…

Cerberus was the ghoul she'd been looking for...or more precisely...Charon. He would have laughed at his true name if he hadn't found himself in the dilemma he was in right now. That itch had teased at him and even laughing to himself in his shop about it felt risky. Aser stiffened, wishing above all that he could break a sweat so the sickly hot feeling he'd started getting would fade.

The booze he'd been ingesting at an increased level as of late had made him sloppy in the noggin', and now he found that despite knowing the consequences; the repercussions and stupidity of perusing someone else's gal – that itch didn't blossom into fear and he just wanted her now more than ever. The want was overlapping the nerves of stepping Cerberus' bound.

Far away there signaled a repeated tapping; a sound he felt more than heard...

Footsteps; short-spaced footsteps and he didn't need to get up and turn around to know who it was coming down the hall. Of course she would pick the 'perfect time' to come down the corridor, just as he was realizing how much shit he could be crawling into by even looking at her the wrong way...

It was just his luck that his knees locked as her firm steps stopped in the shop; no more than four feet before the counter.

"Aser...? You back there?" She sounded good, better than the last time; a good sign since he was just bothering himself over apologizing like a bitch. The silence following her voice was thick and sour though. It wasn't guilt he felt growing the more he kept his mouth shut, but it was something similar.

He stayed squatted behind his counter, gripping the empty booze bottle in one hand; the other tightening into a fist on his knee as if he could somehow disappear into himself.

Aser was a brash man...well, ghoul. He knew this was pathetic; hiding from her while he rearranged the proper things he should have been feeling as if he were putting a jigsaw puzzle together. He liked her; liked her a lot, but he should force himself to back off. He needed to tell himself 'Yes! Fear her...fear Cerberus.', but he didn't...

If he died trying to make bread n' butter with Harriet then it wouldn't be called the worst death; at least not the worst cause of death.

His knees were still cramped - the only part of him that had a brain it seemed; they didn't want him getting up. 'It's safe behind the counter.' they'd say. What his knees hadn't counted on though was that he could still articulate words.

Just as he heard her footfalls reverse out of the shop he finally grunted, "Over here, smoothskin." It was quiet for a few seconds too long before he heard her saddle hesitantly up to the counter. She was much closer now.

"Aser...?", a small chuckle, "Did you melt into the shadows finally?"

"Behind the counter...", he turned his head to the side, hearing her round the corner. Bare legs in weathered boots met his line of sight. "ugh...hiding from sobriety, or time...something along those lines.", he trailed off.

From this angle...just wonderful. His large eyes lifted up her thighs. It was funny, but he didn't remember her skirt being that short before...nor had he realized she was the type to wear white under it either. White was a good color on her.

"You're doing a lousy job of giving me prayer-book thoughts in that skirt, doll." He put on a grin, seeing her smile before sinking down to her knees beside him. His knees were still the only things saying no; it was a bad sign, especially when she plunked down on her ass right beside him.

Aser scuttled down too, planting his ass on the metal; eyes on her now exhausted looking face. "Something tells me you wouldn't be grinning like this if I was a man."

"How did you guess?", his reply sounded more drunk than he'd intended.

He grinned wider despite the inebriated slip as he watched her smirk, running three fingers and a stub through her clean looking hair. Come to think of it - he took a nasally inhale of the air as she shook her hair out against her face - she smelt marvelous.

Aser rotated the neck of the bottle in his hand, squeezing erratically as he watched her frown. "...how goes the stomach?"

"Better. I didn't really have anything in mind when I came in here...just...needed a friendly face I guess. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed - well...gurney uh…actually." Her body language compensated for the bitter tone of her words. She stared at him as if she'd made a joke rather than a complaint - he went along and smiled.

"I got a warm mattress with your name on it straight ahead." He gestured with a loose nod to the door ajar in front of him. He'd often wondered what it'd be like to lead her down on his mattress so he could press her into it.

"Something tells me it's got your name on it as well."

"Nothing in life's for free sweet-cheeks."

Her nose wrinkled as she spoke out her throat, "No shit...your preaching to the choir Aser...I don't need another reminder."

There was silence again but it wasn't sour as before. Comfortable was a good word for the pause in their conversation, and it was just as enjoyable as the conversation itself. A part of him said not to stare at the shadow her skirt cast between her legs...but it barely surfaced before he worked his eyes down her imperfect-perfect, tanned legs.

"Aser..." That tone wasn't good; turned the silence into something bitter again.

He looked at her with the same face he always wore, playing dumb to the way her eyes shifted all wet-like in her skull.

"...have you ever..." She paused, looking as though she were trying to find something small, lost on the floor in front of her, "…fooled around on anyone before?"

Yeah, her question was strange, but it hadn't staggered him like he knew she expected it to. Her face looked taut as if she was preparing for some kind of eruption.

"A few times...back in the old day's." Aser didn't ask why; didn't really want to...but something in him wondered - maybe hoped - she was referring to him, her and Cerberus...still though, he didn't ask.

"Did you ever lie about it?"

"About sneaking around?" He shrugged, situating his empty bottle between his legs with a glassy chink. "Sure - never worked well though. I'm not the best bullshitter, if anything I'm tastelessly truthful."

She didn't smile like he'd hoped at his witty response. Something was eating her and it wasn't him...

Aser looked her up and down, concentrating on her stiff expression, ignoring - as best he could - the expanse of her legs and her jutting collar bone. Even as he put a hand on her shoulder - finally asking her in so many words what was the bother - his pent up brain imagined shoving his face between her legs. She still had that creased frown on her face though, and he was almost annoyed that it practically ruined his mental image. That dread; that worry a man got when his interest started asking questions only another dame should be answering started crawling around in his gut; it wasn't a grand feeling.

"I think I cheated on someone...", her voice was small; like that of a child's, sounding more unsure by each word.

He couldn't help but scoff despite the way her brows pressed together at the sound, "Who was the lucky gent then, if you don't mind me asking?"

The smoothskin seemed to ignore his flippant tone, and shrugged sloppily before opening her mouth again, "It doesn't matter, I think I've been forgiven anyways...it's just been bothering me all morning." Aser turned away from her, pretending that he had the power to refill his empty whiskey bottle with just constant eye contact - it didn't work and she kept talking. "I'd rather drink and flip through a nudey mag with you, but...Cora's probably hungover and...I..." She stopped, and he was grateful. The girl sure could trail off when the mood struck her.

"Speaking of porn, my magazine hasn't shown up at the lost and found yet." The way her brow rose; one eye squinting for some effect only she knew the goal of - it made his tongue slap to the roof of his mouth while she grew a small smirk. At least she knew how and when to change the subject.

"Like I said before...you don't need the magazine smoothskin."

* * *

Despite the way Cerberus had danced around the aroma in his office; glaring at him from across the table to drop the subject – it seemed that somehow the word had gotten out.

Gwyn leaned against the sharp edge of a dismantled control panel, spit-balling with the two ghouls on duty in the mid-morning hours. McCrae was a relatively close friend of his – a ghoul whom he'd found while leading a supply search a few years back. The short stoutly ghoul had managed to kill him two smoothskins when him and his group rounded up on him…whether the chopped up humans were hoods or not Gwyn would never know for certain – still, the ghoul looked quite ideal standing with thick blood painted up his overalls.

This McCrae; this husky ghoul 'knew' though, at least knew enough that something tipping the bounds of communal friendship had occurred between their leader and a certain smoothskin. Gwyn didn't show any concern for the problematic situation though; just readjusted his stance and took another heart-felt drag off his cigarette. He knew how to drench this situation. McCrae had said _he_ knew, not _found_ out from someone else. If the shitty little bit of gossip would start with him then Gwyn knew just what to do about it.

Again he swallowed in another breath of smoke, letting it out through his mouth in globby clouds as he spoke. "So…was it that bitchy smoothskin that came down the hallway?"

McCrae turned his head up to the ceiling as if he was remembering some small miniscule detail, but he answered quickly with a simmering smirk. "Yeah…with a rip in that pink dress too boot."

Gwyn had seen that same rip alright…but he'd only smelt _her_ in the office…not Cerberus. He watched as McCrae light up his own smoke, borrowing a light from the ghoul beside him. Gwyn couldn't remember the fresh ghoul's name, only that he'd been here shy a few months – and been a ghoul about that long as well. McCrae chime up again after building up an inch of ash at the tip of his roll. "She had that same look on her face that the more...'committed' whores...had when you got done with them, especially when you made _real_ nice afterwards."

Gwyn didn't know exactly what he meant by that – it was the only thing he didn't find very likable about McCrae; his insatiable lust for pussy and his lack of shame for it.

"You saw that shiner she had on her face last time. Could have stepped out of line again…" Gwyn threw the possibility out there while proving the feigned obviousness of it with a shrug of one shoulder. As he smoked - the residue floating up his face from his nostrils and mouth – he watched McCrae and the other 'No-name' out the corner of his eye.

McCrae was indeed tossing the idea around his skull, looking over at 'No-name' a few times before shrugging to himself. The pot-bellied ghoul nodded over to Gwyn, sucking on his roll with a gruffly demeanor. "I'll be the first to admit a good beating and a good fucking can look similar in the aftermath…but…" Gwyn kept his slack look off to the wall as if the current subject was the least bit interesting while McCrae continued. "…but...I'm leaning more towards the good fucking. Besides…I don't think we've ever seen the big man indulge himself before, not once, even you're not that damn sneaky."

Gwyn held in the snarky comment as it filled his mouth. Everyone knew how Gwyn handled his whore visits so it didn't matter in the end, but the conversation had put him on edge; had started to make him antsy and for the first time he had the urge to shove McCrae into the vault mechanisms…

"…or…maybe your right. It sounds more like Cerberus to give a beating than a…" Gwyn hadn't realized he'd been sneering until McCrae's words started to wobble. He removed the tension in his face and snorted out a blast of smoke. "…than ah'…you know."

"Yeah." 'No-name' gestured in agreement with wide eyes that darted up to McCrae and the floor nervously. Gwyn retained his calm and nodded along with them in a much smoother fashion than their own erratic head waggles. Gwyn helped disrupt the anxious ambiance with another shrug of one shoulder and rubbed his smoldering cigarette on his jacket, flicking off the embers as he turned to the side. The door to his right made a groan, signaling it's locks unbolting with a noisly 'slink'. Halfway open the door stuck; fidgeting then finally slipping upwards, exposing the smoothskin in the door way.

Speak of the fucking devil.

"Gwyn?" She had that sound to her voice that told him she knew just what she'd walked in on. The girl wasn't dumb…

"Yes?" He pushed off the console, turning to her with his dead cigarette in one hand. It was an odd situation; her being down here and all, especially down here _alone_.

"...and McCrae?" Her eyes darted from 'No-name' to McCrae until the portly ghoul raised a hand nervously. Just as Gwyn's face started to contort in confusion and McCrae and 'No-name' made simultaneous grunts – Cora snuck in behind the smoothskin, glaring with slanted blood-shot eyes.

Not alone anymore.

Cora stared over at him – past the smoothskin's shoulder - obviously trying her best to push back the hangover he no doubt knew was brewing behind her eyes. "Did you not hear the speakers? Cerberus wants us all to meet in the common room in…" Her gaze shot to the clock in the corner. "…now it's in two fucking minutes. You two…" She gestured to Gwyn and McCrae in a rush. "…are the only ones not there."

Gwyn grumbled. He didn't remember hearing anything of the sort - speakers must have been bust in here, but Cora was a bitch when she wanted to be, speakers or no. He watched her lead the smoothskin our of the door way, into the red hallway with a pained look on her face. The half-ghoul woman seemed to work with the headache, using it's power over her facial features to shoot them both a deadly look before turning out into the corridor herself.

"Stop dickin' around!", he heard her yell back.

Gwyn stood there a moment, ignoring the ringing of her grating shrill voice in his ears as McCrae walked around him to follow the girls.

Something told him this had to do with the hoods armory, a certain smoothskin, and him holding back the urge to bite said smoothskin. As he stepped into the red hallway - rolling his ashed cigarette between two fingers – he almost felt betrayed after stubbing out the gossip that McCrae no doubt would have spewed forth…

Gwyn's agitation told him he deserved better than to get the smoothskin thrown at him like she was his boss's ignorant little wench; deserved more than getting stuck with her for how ever many days it took him and his team to reach the fucking hood's stash. The extreme dislike followed him into the common room, even as he settled in beside McCrae and Eugene. The rest of the small group consisted of Harriet, Cora, Apep…(who was settled off by the air vents as far away from everyone as possible), and three other unimportant souls. They were all gathering to the left of the room, hanging under a particularly blazing red light that shroud them all in bloody stains and dark creasing shadows – it was a sight, that was for sure.

A few passerby's heading to the cafeteria slowed as they walked by, rubbernecking the situation before disappearing past the hallway walls.

Gwyn guessed they were all waiting on Cerberus to mossy on down from his office to give them all the details. Why they weren't all meeting upstairs he hadn't the slightest clue. Maybe the office still smelt of the smoothskin. Gwyn smirked with malice more than amusement. Cerberus was crawling his way into a predicament…one that – at least to Gwyn – was more trouble than it was worth.

He eyed Harriet off besides the withering ghoul woman, standing hunched with one hand thrown into that ratty-ass flight jacket. He had to admit; the grenades slung over her hips were a nice touch – it almost made her look like a challenge…almost.

Everyone seemed like they wanted to pipe up; complain maybe, but Gwyn just saw their eyes shifting from the floor to each other, and then to the darkened stair case to the right. It had been much longer than two minutes and they all wanted to point out the obvious. Even from eight feet away Gwyn could see the beads of sweat forming on the smoothskin's forehead and upper lip – whether it was fever from the bullet wound or nerves he couldn't tell.

Someone light up a cigarette with a match - the harsh smell of phosphorus fumes and acrid synthetic binding agent made his nose crease despite his lack of movable cartilage. At least the smell of butane gasses didn't stamp the inside of your nostrils with it's smell for minutes afterwards.

It was at least another five minutes (on top of the other ten that they'd been standing there) until Gwyn could hear the distant door sliding open from upstairs. A few others noticed the noise and turned to the stairwell, waiting.

Cerberus came down, planting each foot carefully at the base of the stairs. That massive shotgun was hanging off his right shoulder and he was donned in his scuffed metal padding. The leader looked ready for combat…not a meeting.

The tall ghoul made eye contact with Gwyn, faintly smirking in the dark red of the room. He looked like a monster; a benevolent master, and Gwyn wouldn't expect any less from him. It almost made him forget his previous animosity, but the smoothskin walked up closer and the reminder had him frowning again.

Cerberus didn't move, but offered a small tilt of his mouth with narrowed eyes and a minute curl of his fingers before uttering his maniacal greeting, "Morning."

Everyone went still – no breath, no unnecessary noisy movement….nothing.

"Cora, Apep…follow me. The rest of you gear up and ready yourselves in the control room." No one moved as Cerberus glowered over in the corner where Apep stood, shifting eyes to Cora as he turned to the side. "Be ready in fifteen everyone."

As he made his way up the stairs with Cora and Apep following behind – he spoke again, "Today you'll all be robbing the Brotherhood - hopefully."

McCrae made a satisfied grunt, along with two other shabby ghouls who punched the shoulder of another in sick cheer. Gwyn remained calm; excited yes, but he let it simmer in his gut as he turned his eyes from the stairwell to the smoothskin currently fingering the pockets of her jacket. For a spilt second Gwyn felt pity for the girl…but it was short lived when she turned a hard stare to him. He could tell this is how it would be between them from now on. Gwyn would be the first to admit he'd started it. He hadn't liked her from the start, but she hadn't tried to make nice either…

…they were both to blame in the end.

Either way their feelings towards one another – Harriet strode up to his side and eyed him like an adversary would their opponent. He could see her charm...ironically when she slipped a brow up under her fringe, staring him down even though she were a few inches shorter. The girl had at least _some_ balls.

Gwyn sighed, letting down his facade - not even bothering any longer to hide his frustration.

"I take it that look means your as keen to waiting as I am?" He gruted, keeping his spot in the center of the room even as Harriet inched closer to him. He refused to be sized up by a smoothskin, let alone a woman. A smoke would fill the gap – he knew – so he retrieved a pack from his back pocket, slapping the end against one palm as he gave the girl the same look she was giving him. It worked, oddly enough, and she backed down, staring off at the stairwell again with shifty eyes.

It was hard not to offer her a smoke when she looked like that.

They both enjoyed the cigarette; disobeying Cerberus' orders to wait in the control room with both an air of defiance and loyalty – it was a strange moment, and Gwyn knew the feeling was mutual. Harriet looked as if the room had turned cold as she puffed on her roll with all the signs of a chill except the shivering. Her shoulders were hunched, her hands were buried in her jacket, and her head was ducked down as if she were sucking up all the residual heat from her core.

"How long you think?" She spoke and he didn't bother pretending as if he'd been listening.

"What?"

"- until we're out of here. How long do you think?" He gave her the same shrug he did everyone when he didn't care. Only Cerberus really knew when they'd be heading out, and Cora and Apep probably knew more than he did right now. Jealousy sang through him in that moment, but it dissipated quickly enough when he felt his personal space being invaded by the smoothskin again.

He stifled the growl, "Does it matter? We leave when he says so. End of story."

He didn't mind the way she hid her glare with the turn of her head, nor the distant hum of irritation in her throat – if anything it made him feel a little bit better as he enjoyed another breath of smoke. He really did hate smoothskins…they had only been good at one thing for him and this one – Harriet – wouldn't have even sprang him if she wasn't already claimed by his boss and friend. He liked his women mute…though that didn't stop him from visualizing what really went on after he'd come up to Cerberus' office last night.

Thankfully he didn't have to stew in perverted thoughts very long until that familiar echo of a noise that signaled Cerberus' upcoming presence rung above them. Gwyn rubbed his cigarette out between the floor and his boot, watching as the smoothskin took another drag off her inch left.

It was Cora and Apep who came down the stairs first; both of them making a beeline for the control room without but a single glance at himself and Harriet. Cerberus stepped down slowly after, pausing briefly to watch the two disappear down the hallway before bringing his attention to him and the smoothskin. Gwyn nodded his way; eyes dead straight on Cerberus', waiting for his command.

"I thought I said in the control room…Gwyn?" That tone told him in such a vague way exactly what it was he'd just been ordered to do. Leave. He hadn't said Harriet after his commanding slight …he'd said Gwyn. So he did as he was 'told', but didn't leave with a stone cold face as he did so. Instead of turning tail and disappearing like a good boy all silent like - he paused a moment to unhand another cigarette, lighting the tip after shoving an end in his mouth with a loud grunt. Cerberus just watched him with that amused glint in his eyes despite the way his mouth set in a frown.

Gwyn knew he was the only one that could get away with pulling this shit, so he kept on as he inhaled a thick drag, blowing it out with another audible grunt before flicking the end and finally…turning tail.

Certainly, when the stupid smoothskin finally left; when she finally bore Cerberus enough, Gwyn would be one happy ghoul – perhaps he'd even throw himself a personal party.

* * *

She looked off; edgy in a sense, and Cerberus saw it the moment he'd came down into the common room the first time. Her eyes had been on his the whole moment – out of hate or want he wasn't sure. In the end her gaze had made his shoulders itch. He'd figure he could wait after the meeting, hold her back while everyone filed out and possibly talk to her about...the other day, but as luck would have it she was right where he left her. Gwyn though; he was there as well, and never before had the ghoul had the gall to push him like he did just then...

He was starting to push his luck. The dark ghoul seemed hunkered down in the belief that women were just women; that Harriet was just another dame that had a sweet spot between her thighs that could be found on any other woman. Normally, Cerberus would agree whole-heartedly, but Harriet was different...always had been.

Once the smoke from Gwyn's roll faded, her face seemed to soften. Her feet even began to inch against the space between them.

"Hey…", her voice came out as if she was cooing to a frightened animal; a funny sound considering.

"How are you feeling?" This time the question hadn't come out just to fill the air, truly he wanted to know and he hoped his tone said so.

She looked around nervously, taking one last puff of her smoke before letting the fumes out with an answer, "…better. Good enough to head back out there at least."

"Something else bothering you?", he curved the words into a slight perversion.

It was hard not to smile when her eyes shot to him; narrowed and glaring, telling him he knew damn well what was really bothering her. Her lips had thinned but it didn't take more than a keen eye to see she was holding in a smile as well.

"Nothing more than a certain ghoul and his idea of apologizing."

Cerberus gave a half-hearted grunt, tossing his eyes to the side as he rolled a shoulder against the barrel on his back. He played her coy game like they used to – it was the way she flirted with him in the beginning and he had to admit, it was hard to stifle the soft warm feeling in his chest when her lips ended up curling fully.

"Do yo-…we…have time for a quick smoke?" The hopeful edge of her voice had Cerberus' teeth clamping. There was more behind that question; more suggestion, but he'd ignore it. He had to prove his civility at least…not too mention he had a certain gift on him.

He might not have added anything to her loose questions, but he did give into a small grin as he pulled the silver inlayed cigarette case from inside his jacket. It was her face he was watching as he pulled out two crisp cigarettes from the trinket. The red of the room stained everything, including the trinket…but it was only the trinket and her face that reflected it the right way in this moment.

Just like the first time he'd made her smile for him – his chest constricted and his belly churned in that horridly pleasant way it did. Her eyes had softened, mouth puckered up and those little dimples at the side of her mouth made an appearance as he placed the two in his mouth, lighting both with that smooth flick of his wrist. Enraptured as she was by the way he took the first drags of their cigarettes – he could still see the distance she put up between them, either out of shame or regret. This was the first time he'd wished the room had fluorescent lights, so he could see if her cheeks were red or not.

Cerberus hadn't realized he was staring until she breached the bubble and plucked one cigarette from his lips, tugging against the fusion his wet mouth had made with the tip. Her manner was slow and her eyes were fogged; hooded – it had him groaning audibly, reminding him of filthy, filthy things. She looked as though she knew what had just crossed his mind too, smirking lightly; keeping eye contact as her cheeks hollowed when she took the first suck. The way her chest expanded as her body stole all it could from the invading carcinogens; the way her head turned but her eyes stayed on his – it all had him thinking one thing.

She wanted him.

Calculating his chances – Cerberus stole glances up at the railings, the corners, the doorways and even up in his own office. The coast was clear…

When he found her eyes again she removed the smoke from her lips, licking them. The air seemed thick, and not just from the smoke. His own cigarette had stayed at the side of his mouth, growing ash by the second as an unspoken approval passed between them.

Quickly, with one last glance to the normally heavy used hallway – Cerberus spat his cigarette out to the side; the embers flying off with bright red sparks as he yanked her against him in one brutal motion, curling his fingers into the density of her jacket.

He expected a gasp, a look, or maybe even a growling yell, but the last thing he noticed before he dipped down to her mouth was a tiny exhale – just that one puff out her lips had him grunting as he smashed his mouth over hers.

Wasting little time he opened up, sliding his tongue past her loose lips with little resistance. Her taste seeped into his mouth as her own tongue pressed against his. Right now, with her back arched and his hands stuffed into the fabric along her back – he wanted everyone to see. This was his victory, and the alpha in him wanted an audience as her breath waffted out of her nose along his face while she tilted inwards with a rough bite to his upper lip.

She made a stifled chuckle as he groaned. She seemed too amused for this too be what he'd hoped it was – it felt a little bit like a tease, but he'd take what she gave him like the hungry hound he was and relish in any taste.

He felt a pang of shame as he moaned when her hands ran up his chest to rest against his neck; curling as if she were ready to choke him. This was bad, no matter how good it felt he knew – despite the way her tongue turned his thoughts south – he shouldn't be doing this here; not in the open. He couldn't ruin this now though. He'd waited too long to feel these things again and the past week had felt like years. If someone saw…then…they saw.

Finally she moaned; a slipped whine when he reached down to grasp her rear. He could fuck her right here; right in the middle of the common room and not care who saw – it was the exact opposite of what he'd told himself not just five minutes ago, but he also told himself he hadn't expect her to let him do this…or…this…

He kneaded the weight of her bottom in his hand, catching the hitch of her breath in his mouth as he sucked in her tongue with a wet sound.

Suddenly his vision blackened - a heavy pain struck his neck and he couldn't stop himself from wavering a fraction. With a growl he pulled off of her, feeling her heat leave him in a swift exiting move, leaving him high and dry with his sight returning; purple throbbing against his eyes. She'd pinched his pressure point; plucked at the nerve nestled just behind his artery like he'd taught her.

Despite the mild nausea it gave him – he grinned, baring his teeth with hooded eyes. If anything her way out of his grasp had just made him crave her more, but she was already a foot or so away, holding a forced indifferent look as a rubbernecking ghoul walked behind her.

He made a mental note to give her more credit than he did. She was still sly…

"I want to have a…talk when I get back – as soon as I get back. Make time...alright." It was a demand; no question to be found, and it had his fingers curling into his palms as the blood started to flow between his legs at a faster pace.

Cerberus had to remind himself he was boss – he could make her stay if he so chose…but as he stood there he realized this was the kind of thinking that got him into trouble in the first place. He had to hold back the urge to take that extra inappropriate step. Forcing her into doing anything would just put him back to square one – he knew. It was time to nod and agree, and know that when she got back he'd be closer to where he'd been almost a decade ago…

"Yes, but what makes you think you're leaving today…"

"You-"

" -before I talked to Cora…and Apep. We're not ready to go gung-ho yet…" That agitated scowl returned, quick as a combusting match – he stubbed it out just as fast. "…don't worry, you'll get your chance. Be patient…" There was a brief moment of pause where she just glared at him, but her hard stare wavered by the second until the look had dropped completely.

"Shall we then?" Her tone was unsure but a small smile had pushed itself on her face. Again he nodded and gestured with an open arm. Harriet walked off and he – Charon – followed.

Inside the control room the lights were softer, casting everything in colors – not just _a_ color. Everyone was staring, as was to be expected, but Harriet eased her way to the back of the group besides an eyeing Cora and Cerberus gaited to the control panel ignoring the enrapt stares.

"Before all of you get too hard-pressed on killing tonight...we have a...problem."

Only the heavy moans of the vault sounded in the space - everyone else went quiet, holding in their displeasure.

"We need more soldiers - at least two more. There will be no hounds sent out. According to Cora, without their bomb collars it's nothing but another hindrance..."

Cerberus eyed the ghoul woman in the corner, seeing her face falter only the slightest under his gaze. The rest of them were stock still; motionless as if they were holding their breaths. "You all can relax if you'd like. This isn't an interrogation..." He leaned on the edge of the console, showing the casual air of the meeting in his stance as he slipped a cigarette from it's trim bright case. He really did enjoy smoking more because of it - probably the last thing harriet had intended.

"Smoke even...I plan to..." A couple ghouls did indeed light up their own stale or home-rolled smokes. It eased whatever tension and dissapointment the lot of them had created.

Cerberus let out the white haze, locking eyes with Harriet in the back as she kept up an indifferent face, yet in here...he saw the redness of her cheeks. He crossed his arms, tightening his chest by flexing the muscles under the leather - in turn making a loud crisp creak of fabric.

"You all are the ones I would send out for this, before anyone else - however," another sharp intake of smoke, "...if any of you would like to recommend a fellow soldier, now would be the time..."

They all seemed to shift their eyes to one another, unsure of who should speak first - if at all. Cerberus watched them all, smelling the second hand smoke from the cigarette burning against his forearm as he cupped his elbow.

One - Eugene - rose a few fingers, eyes down but quickly lifted. He stuttered at first but cleared his throat and continued, "W-what...about Samael?"

"No.", Cerberus declared harshly. Gwyn would flip a gasket if he let Samael on this convoy, despite how much of an asset the man-ghoul-child would have been. "Anyone else have a suggestion?"

Surprisingly Harriet was the one to step forward, still behind one ghoul, but everyone turned to her as she spoke with confidence laced in her quick suggestion, "What about Aser? He seems like a waste of skill sitting in that shop, doing nothing." She shrugged with eyes shut for a second before staring into Cerberus' as if she hadn't just passed spit with him a few minutes ago.

Cerberus couldn't help but grin at her bold move. He'd heard from Gwyn last night about her visits to Aser...and the pinwheels - though after the little moment in the common room it hadn't bothered him anymore - so why should it bother him now? He took another drag of his smoke and let his grin fall into a smirk.

"I'll see if he's still as feral as I remember. If so, fine." He stubbed out his cigarette and light another. "Anyone else?"

No one made a sound; no more shifty eyes either, just dead stares as if they were just counting down until the meeting was over. Since they all knew there'd be no spilt blood tonight he understood their lack of patience.

"If any of you get your heads together and think of anything, find Gwyn and let him know. We'll all meet again here at the same time tomorrow. If anyones late I'll find someone else to take your place - I'm sure I'll have no trouble finding a ghoul who wants to slice a hoods throat around here. So be on fucking time."

When they all remained planted in their spots he growled and waved a hand, sprinkling ash across the floor as he did. It took a few more seconds for everyone to start filing out; some grumbling and others making loud sighs of either disappointment or relief.

As he smoked - bending one knee to lean further on the panel - he saw Gwyn hesitate as the ghoul noticed Harriet linger back against the wall. She was waiting for everyone to leave, and honestly - Cerberus couldn't wait. He eyed Gwyn as he paused at the door - the dark ghoul was eyeing both of them with a badly hidden glare.

When Gwyn took longer than he should to leave, Cerberus growled sharply, "Don't push your luck Gwyn."

Gwyn didn't, but left with one last glowering stare over at Harriet - who gave it back to him with a near snarl. The idea of sending them both out started to just sound like an easy way for one of them to murder the other. He'd have to have a talk with Gwyn later tonight, just to set things straight.

Harriet stared with dead-pan eyes as the door slipped shut into its metal latch.

After a few seconds of silence he cleared the air, "What was it you wanted to talk about that couldn't wait 'till later?" He pushed off the console, straightening out his leather jacket and left shoulder piece with the smoke sagging between his lips. With eyes off her as he adjusted his armor - he chose to ignore how she pushed off the wall and started walking towards him. Cerberus needed to play it safe - he couldn't act like the tick that stuck itself too her constantly, nor could he play cold asshole either. He had to go for the middle-ground, but when she invaded that space, stopping only when her jacket brushed against his arm - he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

"Talking was code." Her voice...that voice...

He stiffened, trying to look past her calm eyes and into her squishy brain. "Code for...?"

She didn't answer him - just placed her hands on the belts across his chest, slowly and methodically undoing them as her eyes narrowed.

What was she getting at...and why? It didn't feel right. He didn't see much passion behind her eyes...though when he stopped to think - after ripping his eyes off hers to stare down as she unhooked the last clasp - that hadn't been bothering him lately, so why did it now.

The sound of his metal armor falling to the floor made her jolt against him, but he only stiffened further. She was now pulling down the zipper at his chest; eyes no longer on his but on the task at hand. He should stop her; prove to her that this wasn't the only thing he wanted from her...but the further she went - as she started unhooking the belt at his waist with rough yanks - he couldn't think past getting her clothing off as well.

With a feral snarl he grasped her jacket and thrust it down her arms, making her gasp. Her shirt came up with the same brutal force and before he could second guess his intentions he had her thrown on the control panel with his hips between her legs, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

It was hard to concentrate on anything besides her legs wrapping around his waist or her wet mouth gliding against his - especially when it was something as miniscule as the door behind him opening. She moaned and he couldn't hear much else but that, especially when her hand slithered between them to grasp the stiffness in his pants. It was happening, finally, and it hadn't been him to instigate it either.

He'd been half-way to logical thought but her hand squeezed hard, making him grunt out any chance of thinking.

Cerberus...

He slid his mouth off hers, teasing the skin under her jaw with his teeth as her hips thrust against his, jostling her hand harder against his groin - it hurt, but it was the best pain in along time.

"C-cerberus..."

When she moaned loudly - almost fearful - he grinned against her throat, growling out a string of muffled expletives as his hands found the edge of the panel and her hip, bringing her further into him, relishing in the painful contact as he thrust against her and the console.

"Charon!"

Quickly, like a snap of lightening he turned when her voice demand just as her hands did on his shoulder that he look behind him. What he saw was Eugene...the obedient ghoul with his hands clasped at his chest, looking as if he'd just walked into a room of armed hoods - and he might as well have.

"What the fuck is so important...", he scowled, feeling anything but embarrassment and everything relating to anger for the scared man in the door-way. "...that you wouldn't just turn and leave after opening that god-damn door!"

Literally, Eugene began to shake. His shoulders shook and his fingers twitched so badly that for a slit second Cerberus forgot his rage.

"I- its...its Gwyn. He...Samael. He stabbed Samael!"

Still between Harriet legs, with her hand still trapped between them - slowly loosening her grip on his covered erection - he stared dumbly at the still shivering Eugene. Anger turned from Eugene straight to Gwyn. A flash of murder flew across Cerberus' eyes as Harriet squirmed against him, wiggling him backwards until her feet landed on the floor. Gwyn had been out of line recently, and this; this was the last fucking straw. Not only did he commit violence against his fellow soldier, but he was now the cause of the unattended stiff cock between Cerberus' legs.

"Gwyn...", the bastard was going to pay.

* * *

R&R if you like the story and have the time. Will try and get the next chapter up soon.

Let me know if the plot if moving to quickly...or too slowly, or if your thinking "What fucking plot?". Need your feedback. :]


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Fallout