ii. IT TAKES TWO TO TANGO
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From a distance, most ghouls looked half-feral to Sylvia. Up close, she saw that the ghoul aiming his gun at her forehead was anything but that.

He had a coldness in his sunken eyes. She had always found it unnerving in ghouls, but now it chilled her to the bone. How far did that coldness extend? Would he murder her and feel nothing after?

"I'm just passing through," she said, readjusting her grip on her rifle.

"Put it down, girlie," he retorted.

The ghoul kept swaying on his feet. If she hadn't caught a glimpse of it in the corner of her eye, she might never have noticed. But once she had, it didn't take long to form a half-baked escape plan.

He didn't look away from her as he said, "Tell your robot to―"

Sylvia kicked her leg out and swept the ghoul clean off his feet. He hit the ground hard, his tattered cowboy hat blowing clean off. His revolver skittered down the cracked pavement, and she planted her boot square on his chest.

"I really don't want to kill you, old man," she replied, aiming her rifle at his face.

The ghoul raised his hands. "Alright. Alright, you got me."

Quick footsteps on the pavement drew her attention away from him. A gecko darted out from behind a pile of rubble and came to a stop in front of them, rubbing its grubby hands together. Sylvia whirled, aiming her rifle at its head.

"Wait!" The ghoul wheezed out. "Wait. The― the gecko. It's with me."

Sylvia frowned at him. Still, the gecko hadn't jumped her yet. It stayed crouched in front of them, watching on with unblinking red eyes.

She glanced back at the ghoul. "How the hell did you tame one?"

"I don't know," he said. "They just... Like me."

She glared at the gecko again. "Don't make me regret this."

The ghoul didn't move until she had stepped off of him and slung her rifle over her back. Only then did he slowly sit up, scratching behind the gecko's frills. It made a pleased noise, and he smiled, revealing uneven yellow teeth.

Turning to Sylvia, he said, "I hope you don't mind, but... Help an old man up?"

She stared at his outstretched hand. "If you try to flip me, I'll kill you."

The ghoul laughed. "Guess that's fair."

He winced as she pulled him to his feet. His grip on her hand tightened, and she tensed up, but he only grinned and shook her hand.

"I've gotta say, sweetheart, that was a real smart move you pulled on me," he said.

"Oh, you know." She shrugged. "I didn't feel like getting my head blown off."

"You got a name?"

"Sylvia."

He grinned. "Well, alright, Sylvia."

"That's Winston," she added, jerking her head towards her companion. "You and your gecko got names?"

"Joel Cabrera." The ghoul nudged his gecko with the tip of his boot. "This here's Martha May."

Sylvia found herself grinning. "That's a real sweet name for an ugly little critter."

"Well, she's a real sweet girl."

She glanced back at Martha May. The gecko kept staring blankly ahead. Its tongue darted out and licked its eyeball, and she grimaced.

"So, where are you headed?" Joel asked.

"South, for now." Sylvia shrugged. "I'm making my way to Novac."

"Novac. Huh." He hesitated before adding, "I know you've got your pal here, but... You want an extra pair of eyes watchin' your back?"

She thought about turning him away. After all, he'd been planning on killing her minutes ago... But something told her that if this ghoul wanted her dead, he'd have killed her already. She found herself nodding.

"Couldn't hurt."

Joel grinned and finally dropped her hand. "Only if we split the profits."

"Sure. Whatever you say," she replied.

In her heart, she knew that there wouldn't be profits for them to split. The only profit that could come of her trip to Novac would be that girl's safe return home, and that wasn't guaranteed. Buying her freedom would cost her family hundreds of caps, too.

So, no. He wouldn't be getting any profits from this.

"You mind if we stop by The Hub?" She asked. "Stock up before we head for Nevada?"

He hesitated, then broke into an easy grin. "Not at all."

Behind him, Martha May retched. He spun around, hand reaching for his belt. "Shit!"

Sylvia watched Joel wrestle his revolver out of Martha May's mouth, grinning to herself. He wiped it off on his pants, grimacing, and plucked his cowboy hat off the ground.

"Alright, sweetheart," he said. "The Hub it is."

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Joel didn't make for a bad companion, all things considered. He moved slower, which bothered Sylvia the tiniest bit, but he told plenty of stories to pass the time. Most of them included at least one bar fight won, radscorpion killed, or pretty woman ravished.

Even Martha May made herself useful. She warded off plenty of other geckos, but Sylvia noticed that even the larger creatures left them alone as they moved further south.

"So," Joel said after a lull in conversation. "Novac. What makes you want to go there?"

Sylvia shrugged. "It's my home."

"Really?" He grinned. "Well, that makes two of us."

"You're lying."

"Nope. Born and raised in Novac, 'cept it had another name before the war."

She cocked a brow. "Yeah? What was it, then?"

"Wish I could tell you," Joel said, and tapped his head. "I'm over two hundred years old. Things get a little foggy up here."

"Oh, that's cheating!" She laughed.

"Well, you ain't being truthful, neither," he replied. "No one who's heard the recent news about Novac would want to go back unless they was stupid."

Sylvia fixed him with a stony glare. Joel only shrugged, raising his hands.

"I ain't tryin' to get on your bad side again. Just sayin'... No one with a brain would tangle with the Legion."

"Yeah, well," she grumbled. "I've got a past."

"We all do," he said. "But most people want to have a future, too."

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They stopped in a little town at dusk. Joel pointed it out, claiming that the saloon had the cheapest prices in all the NCR territory. And Sylvia, despite her initial misgivings, agreed to let him buy her a drink.

She could tell he felt bad for their earlier talk about the Legion. As they drank, he made sure to keep the conversation light and skirted around any mention of Novac. It didn't take long until she'd finally had enough.

"Would you stop?" She asked. "I'm not fragile."

Joel froze. "Well, sure. I know you ain't."

"Fuck the Legion," she said, and dropped her voice. "I'm not trying to kill Caesar myself. I just want to go home."

He stared at her in stunned silence, then began to laugh. "Sweetheart, you are... Somethin' else."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leaned closer. "'Fuck the Legion' is about the most attractive thing a girl could say."

Sylvia grinned. "Do you usually hit on the people you're traveling with?"

"Only when they're pretty things like you," he shot back.

She didn't reply. Still grinning, she brought her glass to her lips. The whiskey tasted like utter shit, but she knew she couldn't be mad. Joel had said this place had the cheapest drinks, not the best.

"You're trouble, Cabrera," she replied. Leaning across the table, she plucked the cowboy hat from his head and placed it on her own.

"You know what they say," he shot back, grinning. "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

She smirked at him over the rim of her glass. "Maybe if you're lucky."

"You ever been with a ghoul?"

"A few of 'em, actually."

He leaned back in his seat, a twinkle in his dark eyes. "And you're the one callin' me trouble."

Sylvia finished off the rest of her whiskey and stood up, setting the glass back on the table with a soft clink. "I think I'm going to call it a night."

Joel was out of his seat in a flash, snaking an arm around her waist. "You know, I think I will, too."

"We're renting two rooms," she told him, a coy smile playing on her lips.

"Two rooms? I'm hurt."

"You'll live, cowpoke."

His arm dropped from around her waist as they stepped out into the night air. Sylvia shot him a grin, but she didn't comment on it. Still, they walked close together, Winston and Martha May trailing behind them.

They had to leave their robots and geckos outside of the inn. The clerk working the front desk gave them a look, but didn't mention the gecko peeking into her front window. Sylvia shot her an easy smile and slid twenty caps across the counter. She could feel the clerk's eyes boring into the back of her skull as she and Joel made their way up the stairs.

"This is it." Sylvia stopped in front of a door and turned to Joel. "You know, I'm almost glad that you tried to kill me this morning."

"Glad you think so, too," he replied.

She grinned. "Goodnight, handsome."

"Ah." He stuck his foot out and jammed the door open. "You're still wearing my hat."

She reached up, felt the brim of his hat on her head, and laughed as she handed it back. He was dangerous, that she knew― he made it easy to get all caught up in nothing.

"Guess you won't be getting that ride after all," she said.

He laughed. "A ghoul can dream, can't he?"

Sylvia found herself laughing as she shut the door on him. Once she heard his footsteps shuffling off down the hall, she flopped down onto the nearby bed. The rock-hard mattress made her back smart with pain upon impact, but she hardly noticed.

For what felt like ages, she stared at the ceiling of her hotel room. Something gnawed at her, to the point that she felt a physical ache in her chest. She laid a hand over her heart, but it kept on pounding against her ribs.

She tried to conjure up that dream from the night before― the vision of the Strip from the cliffside. She could almost feel the warmth from a nearby campfire, could almost hear the laughter ringing in her ears.

If anything, it made her heartache worse.

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"You know, you don't have to come with me."

Joel laughed. "I've been wanderin' for decades, sweetheart. I've got nowhere better to be."

"Well, sure, but I'm guessing you don't go back home much," Sylvia countered.

He fell silent, looking out at the mesa around them. The only sound came from Winston humming a tune and the crunch of sand under their boots. Finally, Joel cleared his throat.

"Nah. I don't."

"Why not?" She asked.

He shot her a crooked smile. "Don't have anyone waitin' up for me back there."

Sylvia nodded. He'd said it himself― he was over two hundred years old. The odds that he had any living family back in the ruins of his hometown were slim to none.

"So why come along now?"

"You're full of questions, ain't you?" Joel asked, shaking his head. "I'm an old man, girlie. Let's just say I'm takin' a walk down memory lane."

"Sure." She kicked at a pebble on the road. "And a walk straight into Legion territory."

He cracked a smile. "Well, that too."

They walked for about a hundred more yards before he added, "I don't suppose you've got any more of that gecko meat."

"Nope. You ate the last of it for breakfast."

"Shit."

"Hey." Sylvia nudged him. "There's a shack up ahead. I'm sure we'll find something in there."

The shack didn't look like much. Decrepit wood planks, a rocking chair sitting out front. A garden peeked out from behind the shack itself, and as they neared it, they saw an old man toiling among the gourds.

"Hey there!" Sylvia called out, waving. "Mighty hot to be working, isn't it?"

The old man whipped around, a shotgun in his hands. Joel's hand twitched towards the revolver on his belt, but she nudged him, and he froze.

"We don't mean any trouble," she added. "Just passin' through."

"Who's the feller with you, missy?" The old man yelled.

"He ain't a feller. He's a ghoul."

Beside her, Joel scoffed. Sylvia elbowed him, and he cleared his throat. The old man in the field paused, squinted, and finally lowered his shotgun. He took a few steps closer, muttering to himself.

"I'm real sorry 'bout that," he said. "Been on edge ever since some feller took my Mary."

"Well, I'm real sorry 'bout your Mary," Sylvia replied. "You holdin' up alright?"

The old man snorted. "She ain't dead, miss. Ran out west with some younger bastard a few weeks ago."

Sylvia shot Joel a look. He shrugged, but she could see the flash of confusion in his sunken eyes before he turned away from her. The old man had come out of the garden, huffing and puffing as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Joel adopted an easy grin. "Well, now I feel bad. My girl and I... We don't want to trouble you."

"You two need somethin'?" The old man asked.

"Food and water, if you can spare it."

He glanced between the two of them. Then, grinning, he said, "Let's strike a deal. Been waitin' for this for three damn weeks."

"What's in it for us?" Joel asked.

"Two hundred caps and a night in the spare room."

"That ain't food and water, sir."

The old man waved a hand in Joel's direction. "Oh, it's all included. But if you want it, you gotta kill the sonofabitch that's got my Mary."

He grinned. "Deal."

Sylvia cleared her throat. "Excuse us."

She grabbed Joel by the crook of his arm and half-dragged him out of earshot. Before she spoke, she cast a glance at the old man again. He just kept smiling.

"We are not killing a man for food," she hissed.

"Yes, we are." He dropped his voice to add, "This is a real nice deal, sweetheart."

"And we are going to murder someone to get it."

"Life goes on."

She gave an empty laugh. "Well, maybe you should tell him that. Seems he can't get over his wife leavin', but I'd say she had a damn good reason to."

"I never said it was right," Joel shot back. "But I'd rather kill someone than die of hunger."

"Then count me out."

"Hey." He grabbed her arm, his voice still low. "I'll take the shot. Just come along with me."

Sylvia glanced at the withered hand on her arm, then met his gaze. With a huff, she threw up her hands and stepped away from him.

"Alright. Alright."

Joel clapped her on the shoulder. "Thanks, sweetheart."

He steered her in the direction of the old man, who smiled at them from the front porch of his shack. That warm smile of his made her stomach churn, but Sylvia returned it to the best of her ability.

"We'll be headin' out now," Joel called. "You want the missus back, or...?"

"Naw." The old man chuckled and said, "I only want a bit o' revenge."

"Any idea where we oughta look?"

"There's a little town about an hour west of here," he said. "He ain't big― 'bout as tall as your lady friend. Black hair, ratty old overalls. Can't miss him."

"We'll be back by sundown, then," Joel replied.

The old man only chuckled and sat back in the rocking chair. He kept his shotgun nearby, wiping down the barrels with an old rag. If he hadn't hired them for murder, he might have looked like someone's kindly grandfather.

Once they had walked about ten yards, Joel glanced at her. "So. I ain't a feller, now? Just a ghoul?"

Sylvia scoffed. "And I'm your girl?"

"Touché."

They walked in silence for a while longer. Nothing bothered them, other than Martha May, who liked to dart out from behind a rock and scare the bejesus out of Sylvia.

Life goes on, Joel had said. Did that give him the right to kill somebody over... What? A bowl of stew and a few caps?

It struck her that she didn't know a damn thing about the ghoul by her side. How did she know that she could trust him, anyway? Would he turn on her if she opposed him one too many times?

She began to walk faster. Winston caught up to her with ease, and Martha May scampered ahead on her stubby legs, but Joel couldn't close the distance between them.

"Wait up," he called. "I ain't as quick as I used to be."

She only said, "Then maybe you shouldn't be taking these odd jobs."

They carried on like that for another fifty yards. Joel's wheezing carried across the otherwise silent wasteland, but it didn't irritate her. Rather, it sent a pang of guilt through her.

Cruelty wasn't in her nature. Sighing, she slowed down until he managed to catch up to her again.

"Thanks," he said, his voice weak. "Listen, I know you don't approve of this―"

"Don't."

He nodded. They kept walking in silence, but Sylvia didn't dare look his way. It killed her enough to know that she was the reason he couldn't catch his breath.

"I take it you ain't a gun for hire, then," Joel piped up.

"I was a hired hand, not a bounty hunter," she retorted. "I don't like killing folks unless it's called for."

"But you want to blow Caesar sky-high."

"That is called for."

He chuckled. "I won't argue with you there. Guess I didn't expect you to be so nice. You were ready to kill me yesterday, weren't you?"

"Well, you were ready to kill me," she said. "Of course I would've defended myself."

"Aw, I wouldn't have killed you," he replied. "I don't like killing pretty girls."

"And that's why I won our little stand-off."

"You sure did. Swept me clean off my feet."

Sylvia glared at him, and he grinned. That choice of words wasn't coincidental in the slightest. It earned him a nice elbow in the ribs, which he pretended to keel over at, splaying out on the ground.

The act didn't last long― Joel shot straight up once Martha May began to whimper over his motionless body. Her high-pitched cries made him swear off playing dead for good.

They reached the town in good time. Joel had them lay low on a nearby mesa, his plasma rifle aimed at the little town below. They hadn't been sitting long before he nudged her.

"My sight ain't what it used to be," he said. "Be my eyes, would ya?"

Sylvia nodded and laid flat on her stomach. She squinted, searching for a pair of tattered overalls among the people meandering through the run-down buildings.

"There. Right by the water pump."

She pointed towards a man leaning against a water pump on the outskirts of the little town. Sure enough, he sported a head of jet black hair and a set of overalls so worn that she couldn't tell what their original color was supposed to be.

Joel grinned. "Well, isn't that perfect."

"Be careful," she whispered. "Don't get us―"

He pulled the trigger. Down by the water pump, the man in overalls crumpled. Nobody seemed to notice right away, and she tugged on his sleeve.

"We have to get the fuck out of here."

Joel grinned and let her pull him to his feet. "You don't need to tell me twice, sweetheart."

They jogged to the other side of the mesa, where Winston and Martha May awaited them. Right as they reached their companions, a strangled wail came from down in the valley.

They broke into a sprint.

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"As promised," Charles said, and slid a pouch across the table.

That was the nutjob's name― Charles. Sylvia wondered if his wife's lover had a name. Not that it mattered now, but she could hardly look at Charles without seeing that man in her mind's eye.

Joel grinned and pocketed it. "Thanks again."

"No, thank you." Charles set two glasses in front of them, saying, "Drink up. Tonight's for celebrating."

Sylvia decided not to mention how much she detested celebrating a murder. She took the glass, shot Joel a look, and drained it in one go.

Whatever liquor he'd poured them, it burned. She choked and set the glass down, her eyes watering. Joel grinned at her over the rim of his own glass.

"What the hell is that?" She sputtered out.

Charles stopped laughing to say, "That, my dear, is moonshine."

"It's shit."

"You're a city girl, ain't you?" He asked, still grinning. "Not used to real alcohol. I've seen the type before."

Sylvia grumbled something before she pushed her chair back. "I think I've celebrated enough. Thanks for the room."

"And the good food," Joel added. He stood up, tipping his hat to Charles. "It's best we call it a night."

"Thank you," Charles replied. "You two were a godsend today. Enjoy yourselves, now."

Sylvia didn't wait to see if he'd say anything else. She pushed her way into the spare room he'd set aside for them, slinging her pack down on the ground. Joel followed suit, but he had the sense to close the door before he spoke.

"Enjoy ourselves, huh?" He shook his head. "Can't say I enjoyed killing."

"He's not talking about that," she replied. "We're a couple, remember?"

Joel looked up, then laughed. "Aw, shit."

The spare room included a wardrobe, a nightstand, and a singular bed. Sylvia grinned at him from her place by the headboard and gestured around.

"Make yourself at home, lover."

"Nah, I won't..." Joel shook his head, still laughing. "You take the bed."

Sylvia sat on the bed, patting the space beside her. "You're an old man, Joel. I'm not letting you sleep on the floor."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart."

"Joel." Sylvia grinned, saying, "You've got a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and a willing woman in your bed. I'm shocked you haven't pounced on me yet."

He shook his head again. As he ambled around the room, he made a big deal out of shrugging off his leather shoulder pieces and setting them down with his cowboy hat. And when he finally did join her in bed, he didn't sit too close. Each time Sylvia tilted her head, trying to catch his eye, he wouldn't hold her gaze.

"Hey."

He glanced up, and she nudged him. "Sleep with me, old man."

"You..." Joel gave a harsh laugh. "You don't want that, girlie."

"I'm not asking you to fuck me. I'm asking you to sleep with me."

She settled back against the pillows, and after a long pause, Joel did the same. He grunted, pounded the stiff mattress with a leathery fist, and then began to laugh.

"Never gets any better," he said, sighing.

Sylvia smiled. "Not even after two hundred years?"

"Nah. Only gets worse, really."

"You talk a big game, you know," she added. "All that flirting yesterday, and you won't take the chance when it's offered to you?"

He scoffed. "Well, of course I'd take that chance."

"Except you didn't."

"I didn't feel like it tonight, that's all."

Sylvia nodded slowly. "Can't fault you there. Murder doesn't put most people in the mood."

There, laying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling again. She heard Joel give a faint sigh, felt the mattress dip under his weight as he rolled over.

Her chest felt tight, like someone had a hand around her heart, squeezing it. She knew what she had to do. But she worried that, no matter what she said to him, it wouldn't change a damn thing that had happened that day.

"Thanks for killing that man today," she finally murmured. "I never woulda done it."

A pause. The mattress dipped again as Joel rolled over to face her. Sylvia didn't look away from the ceiling, her heart hammering in her chest. He cleared his throat. She turned her head, and relief flooded through her when she caught a glimpse of a tiny smile.

"It's all part of the life, sweetheart," he said. "You'll get used to it. And if not, I'll kill all the wife-stealers we come across."

She smiled. "You make it sound like we'll be doin' this for a long while."

"Well, it's a long way to Novac."

"And after that?"

He grinned. "I think we could work somethin' out."

birdie's comments!

this is what happens when you put two people with the lady killer + black widow perks together. 9 CHR, confidence: foolhardy activities

great day to be a ghoulfucker. also a sad day to be a ghoulfucker because no ghoul fucking occurs until much later in the fic

as always, i spent my time wisely when i wrote this chapter (i got sidetracked looking at photos of hancock and cooper howard. for reference of course)

imagine my shock and despair when i remembered that, according to the fallout tv show, ghouls do not have the big black pleading eyes that they do in fo4. anyways i'm retconning that and todd howard can fistfight me over it. joel i've reinstated your beautiful black eyes privilege