Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 5a/?

[(Anonymous)]

Even after half a bottle of whiskey, Charon couldn’t bring himself to check on Elle. She wanted to be alone, she had made that clear, but he still felt the need to bring her water and maybe a shot of Med-X. Nonetheless, every time Charon got halfway up the stairs and saw the closed bedroom door, his gathered courage failed him and he slunk back to the whiskey bottle.

The night went by in a haze, somewhere between sleep and a drunken state of wallowing in self-loathing. He had a room upstairs next to Elle’s, but the last thing he’d wanted to do was lay in bed listening to her shuddering sobs, unable to do anything about it. In all of his years, Charon had never felt so defeated. Physical injuries were easy enough to fix; a stimpack or two could solve just about any problem on the battlefield, except perhaps the occasional blown-off limb. Emotional damage, however, was an entirely new concept, one that he didn’t know how to mend. And on top of that? Charon still couldn’t shake off the label Nova had given to his feelings: love.

When Elle didn’t emerge in the morning, Charon worked up his courage and left a small plate of food and a Med-X outside her door. His head ached from a combination of a hangover and a restless mind, but her needs were always greater than his and he didn’t want to use any painkillers she may need.

A few hours later, Charon heard a door click open, followed by slow, careful footsteps. Every muscle in his body urged him to get up and go help her, but her loose order still stood. So he stayed where he was, feeling pathetic and useless. He listened to her movement upstairs as she made her way into the bathroom, waiting for the sound of her falling, but it never came. As she headed back to her room, Charon heard the scrape of the plate against the floor and he sighed with relief. At least she was eating. That much he could do for her.

The night passed in a similar fashion to the one before. Charon dozed on the couch with the rest of the whiskey in his hand, always listening for noises coming from Elle’s room. The following morning and afternoon were just as uneventful. Charon continued to bring food upstairs, leaving it in front of her door and collecting the dirty dishes. Once in a while, Elle would venture out to the bathroom, but not once did Charon dare to climb the stairs and try to talk.

As evening approached, he started feeling restless. It had been nearly three days and Charon needed to do something. Smash a radroach, blow off a raider’s head, hell, he’d even settle for talking to Moira at this point. Anything was better than sitting there alone with his thoughts for another day.

Just as he was contemplating shouting to Elle that he was going to the bar to buy more liquor, Elle’s voice rang out.