“Jesus Christ, Elle, the fuck happened to your face?”
Elle froze with her hand on the door, and Charon was about to take her by the shoulders and make her continue walking when the voice spoke up again.
“Ain’t so pretty anymore, huh? Damn shame, I’ll have to take you off my list…”
Charon didn’t think twice. He spun around and threw his elbow into Jericho’s throat, pinning him to the wall. The bar had gone silent apart from the man’s gasping and sputtering.
“Why so defensive, zombie? That bitch on your list too?” Jericho gasped as his fingers scrabbled at Charon’s arm.
Charon had expected Elle to scream at him to stop by now, but he heard a sob and a bang and realized she had run out the door. His heart plummeted but he turned his attention back to Jericho as a feeble kick connected with his shin.
“Come near her again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he snarled before slamming his fist into Jericho’s nose.
There was a sickening crunch before the man dropped to the floor, blood pouring from between his fingers as he clutched at his face. Someone gasped, but Charon wasn’t waiting around for the consequences. The sight of the blood had conjured up the memory of Elle’s lifeless body beneath the towering Deathclaw, and Charon’s vision began to blur around the edges. Jericho’s pathetic whimpering sounded muffled in his ears. He needed to get out.
Charon ran out the door, letting it slam behind him, and headed for the house. She had to be there. He couldn’t imagine her being anywhere else right now.
Sure enough, when he opened the door, he found Elle on the stairs. She was curled up against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees and her face hidden.
“Elle?” he tried, but she didn’t move.
He approached cautiously and lowered himself onto the stairs beside her. Charon placed a gentle hand on her back, glad that she didn’t shrug it away. This whole comforting thing was new to him. He had no idea what she wanted to hear, but luckily, she spoke before he had to come up with something.
“He’s right,” she said, her voice muffled, “It’s so ugly. No one’s going to want me. Not even Jericho, and he’d fuck a Super Mutant if it was wearing enough lipstick.”
Charon chuckled in spite of himself, but stopped quickly when Elle’s body began to shake with new sobs.
“Elle, you’re so much more than that,” he murmured, and began to rub small circles into her back. “Someone is going to fall in love with you, regardless of a scar.”
Someone already has.
“They’d be ridiculous not to.”
Elle raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but she was looking at him with a peculiar expression. Charon swallowed hard, wondering if he had said too much, but she continued to let him rub her back.
“Let’s get out of here. Go on the roof. We’ve been in the house too long,” he said decidedly. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the house felt too depressing to continue the conversation.
Elle nodded and raised her arms, a silent request for him to help her to her feet. She looked so small curled up on the stairs, and a wave of protectiveness overcame him. She was battered and broken; he was supposed to protect her. He was the only one she was letting in, and he needed to do something about it.
Charon reached past her outstretched hands to slide an arm behind her back and another under her knees, and with a yelp from Elle, he lifted her and stood in one smooth motion. She quickly latched onto his neck, and Charon felt a surge of pride when he looked down and saw that she was smiling from ear to ear.
Carrying her close to his chest, he kicked open the front door and headed to the side of the house. A few weeks ago, they had stacked half a dozen crates in a way that gave them access to the roof. It was Elle’s idea; after nineteen years in a vault, she confided in him that she wanted to see the stars as often as possible.
Charon carefully climbed the makeshift staircase, making sure to hold Elle securely against him. When he reached the flattest part of the roof, where it had been reinforced to hold their weight, he set her down gently. He noticed, before she stepped back, that her arms lingered around his neck for a moment longer than needed.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, with an uncharacteristically shy smile.
Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 6b/?
Elle froze with her hand on the door, and Charon was about to take her by the shoulders and make her continue walking when the voice spoke up again.
“Ain’t so pretty anymore, huh? Damn shame, I’ll have to take you off my list…”
Charon didn’t think twice. He spun around and threw his elbow into Jericho’s throat, pinning him to the wall. The bar had gone silent apart from the man’s gasping and sputtering.
“Why so defensive, zombie? That bitch on your list too?” Jericho gasped as his fingers scrabbled at Charon’s arm.
Charon had expected Elle to scream at him to stop by now, but he heard a sob and a bang and realized she had run out the door. His heart plummeted but he turned his attention back to Jericho as a feeble kick connected with his shin.
“Come near her again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he snarled before slamming his fist into Jericho’s nose.
There was a sickening crunch before the man dropped to the floor, blood pouring from between his fingers as he clutched at his face. Someone gasped, but Charon wasn’t waiting around for the consequences. The sight of the blood had conjured up the memory of Elle’s lifeless body beneath the towering Deathclaw, and Charon’s vision began to blur around the edges. Jericho’s pathetic whimpering sounded muffled in his ears. He needed to get out.
Charon ran out the door, letting it slam behind him, and headed for the house. She had to be there. He couldn’t imagine her being anywhere else right now.
Sure enough, when he opened the door, he found Elle on the stairs. She was curled up against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees and her face hidden.
“Elle?” he tried, but she didn’t move.
He approached cautiously and lowered himself onto the stairs beside her. Charon placed a gentle hand on her back, glad that she didn’t shrug it away. This whole comforting thing was new to him. He had no idea what she wanted to hear, but luckily, she spoke before he had to come up with something.
“He’s right,” she said, her voice muffled, “It’s so ugly. No one’s going to want me. Not even Jericho, and he’d fuck a Super Mutant if it was wearing enough lipstick.”
Charon chuckled in spite of himself, but stopped quickly when Elle’s body began to shake with new sobs.
“Elle, you’re so much more than that,” he murmured, and began to rub small circles into her back. “Someone is going to fall in love with you, regardless of a scar.”
Someone already has.
“They’d be ridiculous not to.”
Elle raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but she was looking at him with a peculiar expression. Charon swallowed hard, wondering if he had said too much, but she continued to let him rub her back.
“Let’s get out of here. Go on the roof. We’ve been in the house too long,” he said decidedly. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the house felt too depressing to continue the conversation.
Elle nodded and raised her arms, a silent request for him to help her to her feet. She looked so small curled up on the stairs, and a wave of protectiveness overcame him. She was battered and broken; he was supposed to protect her. He was the only one she was letting in, and he needed to do something about it.
Charon reached past her outstretched hands to slide an arm behind her back and another under her knees, and with a yelp from Elle, he lifted her and stood in one smooth motion. She quickly latched onto his neck, and Charon felt a surge of pride when he looked down and saw that she was smiling from ear to ear.
Carrying her close to his chest, he kicked open the front door and headed to the side of the house. A few weeks ago, they had stacked half a dozen crates in a way that gave them access to the roof. It was Elle’s idea; after nineteen years in a vault, she confided in him that she wanted to see the stars as often as possible.
Charon carefully climbed the makeshift staircase, making sure to hold Elle securely against him. When he reached the flattest part of the roof, where it had been reinforced to hold their weight, he set her down gently. He noticed, before she stepped back, that her arms lingered around his neck for a moment longer than needed.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, with an uncharacteristically shy smile.