caterpillar? more like cu. more like cunty. cuntypil. um.

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XIV

December 28, 2277.

The inside of my mouth feels dry, and I feel like a brahmin trampled my head. What time is it?

Cracking one eye open, I see the top of Percy’s head nestled into my shoulder, her black hair ruffled, and I lean into her warmth, not wanting to get up. I wrapped an arm around her and settled there. Something soft and warm was pressing against my crotch and my eyes shot open.

I’m fully awake now, and I jolted out of the bed. Looking down, I saw that I’m only dressed in boxers, and Percy was wearing nothing but a scanty red nightgown, splayed on the bed and still soundly asleep.

What the hell happened last night?

Did I touch her?

Women bleed when they do it for the first time, right? Dogmeat whined and barked as I tossed the covers away, checking the mattress for blood.

Then I saw it, specks of red on the white sheets and blood staining her thighs. Fuck. This is not happening. This is not happening. She trusted me and I hurt her. No. No, no, no. No!

I stayed away from her as far as possible, sitting in the corner with my shotgun in my hand, breathing ragged. I feel betrayed by myself, for ruining the only good fucking thing I had in… centuries.

What have I done?

I sat there for fuck knows how long, numb.

Percy stirred awake, stretching her limbs out, complaining about being sore. She greeted me good morning but it barely even registers in my ears. Confused, she looks around, clutching her lower belly, and she locks eyes with me.

“Charon, what are you doing there?”

My lungs felt like they were filled with black smoke. I’m choking on my own spit. I tear my eyes away from her with haste. I feel them getting wet.

“Percy, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

I pointed at the blood on her person. Her eyes widened. If she asks me to eat a bullet, I’d do it.

There, I sat, waiting for judgment.

Waiting for the bomb to drop.

Waiting for the world to end all over again.

My memories of the old world dying came flooding in.

October 23, 2077.

The last nuclear siren was being sounded. I stood with the others, waiting for my next orders, but they never came. Each of us kept our contracts in our breast pocket. We thought we would be discharged the day we won Anchorage back in January. They took away our power armor, and sent us to California.

My home. If I had one to return to, anyway. It’s been seven years...

All of us thought our contracts were finally fulfilled. That we’ve paid for the sins of our fathers.

All of us were dead wrong.

Our contracts changed hands so many times, I cannot even remember all of their names. All I know is we were in charge of protecting influential people. Powerful people. People in the government. Governors. Senators. The President.

People who did not think twice before using us for their amusement. People who did not think twice before asking us to kill a political opponent. People who did not think twice before they ordered us to kill rioting protestors who demanded food while they dined on cube steak.

Cruel people.

Evil people.

Magwayen, our medic and the oldest operative, was sweating bullets, her expression haunted, while Xolotl sits on a rock, resignation in his eyes. Azrael was arguing with Vanth and Anubis, while Valkyrie sat beside me, her fingers tangled through her hair.

I was the only one who stood still.

“They won’t abandon us,” said Vanth. Beside her, Anubis nods, face grim. “They promised us that we’d be free of our contracts once every single one of the necessary personnel are in Control Station ENCLAVE. They promised us!”

“Face it Vanth, the military lied to us. Again. I swear to fucking God, you internalized all that bullshit they taught you,” Azrael yells back. “Look around you. Our superiors are nowhere to be found. We no longer have shock collars on our necks. Our contracts means jack shit. You stupid bitch, we should be taking shelter!”

“Don’t you trust the United States of America?! They said they will be here. They will be here!”

“Trust the USA? Trust the USA?! ” Magwayen finally screams, rabid. “Bullshit! They put us through hell just because someone we’re related to are suspected Reds. I don’t know how I managed to fake gobbling up their anti-commie crap just to avoid a beating, or worse, the fucking shock collar. I was nineteen when they started to torture me into being subservient. I thought that was bad, but look at Charon here! How old was he when he got brought to the facility? Eleven. You trust a government who would do that to a child? ”

“What the hell are you even trying to say, Mag?” Anubis cuts in.

“Don’t you get it? We’re disposable to them. They never treated us as people in the first place. They’ve milked us dry and now they’re tossing us away. I don’t know about you, but I’m not sticking around. I’m finally free of those miserable bastards and I-”

Before Magwayen can finish her rant, Vanth puts a bullet in her head. Mag’s body flops to the floor like a ragdoll. The shotgun blast tore through her skull, bone and mush strewn over the sand.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“You know our orders, Xolotl. Terminate anyone who would run away. If any of you tries to flee I will not hesitate to kill you!”

“This is nuts!”

My fellow operatives were killing each other, while I stood there, watching the mushroom cloud in the distance.

Beside me, Valkyrie is wailing as it grows. The debris was starting to fly towards us. In the corner of my eye, I see it. Valkyrie’s shoving the muzzle of her gun to the roof of her mouth. I don’t even know if I heard a gunshot or another explosion. Probably both.

My legs wanted to run away as I watched the cloud of debris approaching, but I felt the phantom pain of electricity shooting through my neck, tearing through my cheeks, and I stayed where I was. My pants are warm with blood and my own piss, eyes brimming with tears, as I watched the world end.

It was so bright.

Memories of all the crimes I’ve committed in the name of the United States of America bombards me as the heat tore my skin off my body.

I must be in hell and receiving the appropriate punishment.

Watching Percy’s blank expression, I feel like I’m being cooked alive by the heat again.

Waiting to be damned again. I have another sin I have to pay for.

“If you wish to terminate me for this violation, or have me terminate myself, I will gladly do so.”

Percy kneels in front of me.

“What are you talking about? Charon, you did nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong? What I did was worse than a violation of our contract. I’ve squandered the trust you put in me and-”

“No, I mean, you really did not do anything, big guy. I’m on my period, Jesus Christ. You didn’t stab me in your sleep.”

A cry I didn’t know I was holding back jumped from my lungs. I tossed my shotgun to the side, and put my arms around her.

“I know you can never hurt me, silly,” she laughed into my chest, muffled.

“I thought I raped you.”

Pulling away from me, Percy looks at me with a dumbfounded expression, which was quickly replaced with pity when she looks at my face. Her thumb wipes away the warm moisture under my eye.

I was crying?

Dammit.

“Oh God, Charon.”

Aside from me fucking crying, it registered to us that I was having another panic attack. We did the same thing we did when the Enclave landed in the memorial. The grounding techniques. The dog licked my face as we went through it. When my heart finally slows down, Percy sighs and takes my hands in hers.

“Charon, I don’t think you’re capable of such a thing.”

“Alcohol impairs judgment.”

“Alcohol isn’t an excuse to touch people without their consent. You’re either an abuser, or you’re not, with or without it.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“Look, I haven’t really opened up to anyone about this in detail, not even to Butch or Amata, but remember Stevie?”

I nod. I looked in her eyes and they were somber.

“He was drunk on duty when he caught me using my BB gun in the vault’s lower wards,” Percy almost whispers, voice breaking. “He said he needed to bring me to the vault’s precinct. I did what any scared 16-year old did. Comply.”

“Percy, you don’t have to recount your experiences to prove a point.”

“Let me do this, Charon. I want to do this.”

Sighing, I nod, and she drew closer to me.

“Stevie... he sodomized me,” Percy whispers. “He did it under the influence, and it happened multiple times over the course of months,” she continues, meeting my eyes. Swallowing my own spit felt like choking on stones as I listened to her.

“You didn’t. The fact that you feel terrified at the mere suspicion of doing it says a lot about you. You’re a good person,” my friend tells me, her small hand sliding up my cheek to comfort me.

“No. Percy, I am not. Remember when those bastards in Tenpenny Tower asked you why you were treating me like a person? You said that it was just the bare minimum. That’s just what I did. Bare minimum.”

“Fair,” Percy sighs. “But for what it’s worth? I feel you’re the person I can be piss-wasted vulnerable with. I trust you.”

Feeling the urge to bury my face in her hair, I asked for permission to come closer, and she nods. Inhaling sharply, I let the tears come.

“You put too much trust in me.”

“You’ve proven worthy of it.”

“Percy, I need to say something.”

This angel looks at me with those eyes again. I figured it out now, the emotions they carry. They were brimming with trust and devotion.

“Maybe the talk about the Enclave the night before triggered it, but what happened earlier pushed me over the edge. I had another recall.”

I pause to see if she’s still listening. She was doing so, intently. “Continue.”

“My mind went back to the day the bombs dropped. I was contemplating all the things I did under the Enclave’s employ. The bombs skinning me felt like an appropriate punishment. When I thought I hurt you, I felt like the world was ending all over again.”

Percy squeezes my hand.

“When I said that you were the best thing that happened in my life, I said that with full sincerity. I do not want to risk that in any shape or form. You are my employer, but you’ve treated me far more than a simple employee. I’m not sure...”

The words aren’t coming out.

“Yes?”

I wanted to ask her what the “love you” meant. Does she ever remember it?

She says that to the dog all the time. She can’t be serious. Still, a decrepit part of my mind wanted to bring it up.

Then my mind wanders to the jeers and insults people threw at my mistress for having my company. The dirty, judgmental looks. Their disgust. Surely that “love you” was a lapse in judgment, right?

I better not encourage it.

Perhaps one day I’ll ask her. But not today.

“Nevermind.”

I pull away from her and collect myself.

“You should clean up.”

Percy opened her mouth to say something, but a growl bubbled from her stomach. Blushing, she nods.

“Right. I should. Let’s get something to eat.”

As soon as we’re dressed, Percy curses when she sees the time on her Pip-Boy.

“Fuck, it’s already 2 PM. How long did we sleep?”

“12 hours tops.”

“Okay. Let’s get lunch at Gary’s Galley then hit the road. We need to find Lamplight.”

I raise a brow at her suggestion. “Are you sure we should travel while hungover?”

I follow Percy through the stairs. “There’s no time. We can’t risk the Enclave finding the GECK before we do.”

“If you insist.”

Lunch was mostly quiet. The food tasted bland in my mouth despite being well-seasoned. Percy was chewing on her third Mirelurk cake while I simmered in my own thoughts. Before we got out of the city, Percy entrusted Dogmeat to DeLoria, leaving him with caps and a copy of a key to her house in Megaton.

When we hit the road, I was still thinking about the “love you”, the incident from earlier, and what lies ahead for us. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.

That was a grave mistake.

When we approached Anacostia Crossing, they jumped us. The mercs. Talon Company. My senses were sharper than Percy’s and I didn’t sense their presence. I was caught off guard when one of the bastards threw a bag over my head.

Why did I ever allow myself to become this distracted? Goddamn idiot!

I hear it, Percy’s angry yells as one of the men dragged her into the station. I fired blindly at my assailant, but more of them came, beating my head with batons until I was fucking bloody.

My head spinning, they tied me up, and dragged us deeper into the metro. Then, we stopped. One of them forced me to kneel, then ripped the bag from my head.

“We did it boys! We finally caught the little saint from the vault and this ugly motherfucker,” one of them yells in triumph, and I can barely see Percy spitting in his face from the blood that soaked my left eye.

A yelp escapes her when the asshole backhands her, sending her glasses flying backward. “Let’s see if you’re still so feisty after that, bitch.”

Squinting, Percy looks up to him. “Fuck you.”

He hits her again. I was thrashing hard, unable to protect her. One of the Talon mercs whipped my head with the butt of a pistol and I landed hard on the gravel. The fucker squeezed my jaw while forcing me to get up and I bit him, hard enough to draw blood.

“Argh, fuck! The zombie bit me!”

“Put him down already!”

“Not yet. I wanna watch him suffer while we rough up his girlfriend.”

“Do not fucking touch her,” I growled.

“You know what? I have an idea,” said their ringleader. “Boys, time for some torture.”

I lunged forward, my skull colliding with the bastard’s cheek. Percy takes this opportunity to slip from one of the mercs’ grasp, but his hand caught her Pip-Boy glove.

My contract flies to the ground.

One of the mercs picked it up.

No.

The Odd One (00q, omega!Bond)

The Odd One James was starting to think that Q just thought he wasn't appealing enough as an omega; the alpha had been ignoring every subtle - and not-so-subtle - advances and, that morning, Q hadn't even seemed to notice that he had bared his neck for him. Which wasn't something James did on a regular basis when he wasn't on a mission: he had enough of arrogant alphas believing that sticking a knot in his hole made him their bitch on the job. Critically, James studied his reflection in the mirror, pursing his lips in an attempt at judging his figure objectively; he wasn't exactly your typically petite and florid omega but alphas, once they had smelled him at least, had never been particularly bothered by his lack of childbearing hips and soft curves. His body was all hard muscles and sharp lines, only his dark slightly peaky nipples and the softness under his abdominals when close to his cycle hinted at his nature - and still those weren't condemning details when he wore scent maskers and played at being an alpha. But maybe, for Q, an alluring scent alone wasn't enough and he preferred softer and cuddlier omegas. Eve groaned loudly and thumped her forehead on the desk, frizzy curls spilling on the paperwork she was supposed to be filling in instead of assisting her friend in his sudden bout of self-consciousness "James, you're painful to watch" "Don't watch then" James shot back, turning on his side to have a look at his arse: he knew it looked good but instead of being plump, its cheeks were toned and firm. "Hard to when you're in my office" Eve pointed out with a sigh and slipped her feet back in the high-heeled shoes she had gotten rid of sometime that morning - nobody would notice since she was sitting behind her desk, wouldn't they? - and strode to stand up next to the agent "You look fine" she reassured. A frown darkened James' forehead "Just fine?" "Christ, seriously?" Eve grabbed James by the lapels of his jacket and made him turn towards her, then cupped his face in her hands to make sure he paid attention to her "You're gorgeous and hot, you make everyone's heads turn and wish they could have you" Eve stated firmly. "Everyone but Q" he whined, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth: James hadn't exactly shouted to the four winds that he was pining after the Quartermaster - the fact that he had accidentally revealed the bit of information said more than he ever could express about how distressed he was by Q's lack of attention "Can you forget I said that?" Eve shook his head "Absolutely not. We're going to Bill's office and we'll talk about this. Extensively" she stated firmly; being both alphas - and James' friends - Eve and Bill couldn't help going a bit overprotective over the omega agent who never let anyone take care of him "Lord... Q? Couldn't you fall for someone easier to entice?" James harrumphed and answered, conveniently avoiding to acknowledge the proposal to go to Bill's office: he respected and cherished the other man's friendship, but he wasn't looking forward to some more mothering "I had realised he must have high standards, but I didn't think I was so far out of his league" Eve swatted James over the head "That's not it, you stupid arse" she reproached James; she knew that the agent actually wasn't as self-confident as he appeared in front of everyone, but she hadn't suspected that his insecurities ran so deeply that he would think another alpha out of his league "Q is socially inept: he wouldn't recognise that you're flirting even if you wore a sign spelling it out" Eve specified. "I bared my neck" James stressed: certainly, that was a tad more significant than wearing a bloody sign? "And was he actually looking at you when you did that? Or was he coding and hacking and running a mission while trying to pay attention to you?" Eve asked, brow arched and arms crossed rather smugly, knowing that she had just proved her point to the stubborn omega. Not that James would admit it out aloud; as usual, Q had been juggling a million tasks when James had desperately bared his neck as his last resolve after all his flirting went wasted: he had assumed that Q would be paying close attention to him, just like he did during missions - James hadn't exactly factored in that he wouldn't be a priority, since he was safe and sound on home soil. He turned back towards the mirror, focused again on criticising his figure "Do you think that lighter colours and a different suit cut would make me look more... Curvaceous?" His lips curled a bit in distaste around the word: he liked his body just as it was, even if it did make him self-conscious when people pointed out how non omega-like he looked. "You just need to be blunter" Eve heaved in a long sigh, absentmindedly plucking a short blond hair from James' shoulder "No subtlety when it comes to the Quartermaster" *** James was pretty sure that, when she had encouraged him to be blunter, Eve hadn't meant going off suppressants in an attempt to time his heat to when he'd walk in Q's office. Predictably, the plan had spectacularly backfired on him and he was stuck spending his heat alone in his flat, ruining the sheets without even getting the satisfaction he craved; after years of taking suppressants, he should have known that his body would immediately try to catch up with decades of denial and go into heat on the spot. James supposed it could have been worse: he could have gone into heat in the middle of MI6 instead than in Q's office, behind a conveniently locked door. He had forgotten how messy, frustrating and thoroughly disgusting heats could be without an alpha there to help weathering the worst of it and, at the end of it, James felt like a ragdoll tossed in a rabid dog's jaws; his muscles burned just like after a particularly difficult mission, his joints ached and made his limbs feel disjointed and his whole mind was worn out by the physical effort and the feeling of rejection that, after an heat spent alone, seemed to have grown tenfold. "Piss off, Eve!" James shouted when the doorbell rang, not planning on getting up from the couch and going to open the door to let his friend do some nagging. Immediately after, his mobile pinged. In his attempt to get it, James knocked it off of the coffee table and he swore loudly: he hated to be so ungraceful, his movements all floppy and listless. It's me. -Q "Christ" James whispered, blinking at the text. Then he scrambled to his feet and most definitely didn't run to the door or tripped on the carpet in his haste, absolutely not "Q?" he inquired, half-hidden behind the door. Q wasn't actually expecting James to open the door: he had sounded pretty annoyed - not that he could blame him: ruts weren't exactly the same as heats, but he remembered the frustration flowing through his veins when he couldn't satisfy his impulses. So, when the omega appeared in his line of sight, barely dressed and smelling of stale pheromones, Q smiled awkwardly and raised the Tupperware container in an offering of peace "Uhm.. food?" "Thanks?" James answered uncertainly, mind still reeling by the appearance of the other man on his doorstep. It must have been Eve's fault, really, there was no other explanation. Still, James felt warmth pool in his chest at the typical alpha gesture: omegas didn't eat or drink much during heats and it fell on family or friend or partners to make sure they didn't starve or got dehydrated. Q cleared his throat "Can I come in?" "Yes. Sorry, my brains are still scrambled" James apologised, letting Q in his flat. Once he had bolted the door, he immediately went to open the windows, suddenly aware of how much his home must stink of heat "Tea?" Q stood in the middle of the living room, nervous and unsure of what to do next: when Eve and Bill had cornered him in his office and bluntly told him that James Bond - the infamous deadly 007, the most gorgeous and independent omega he had ever come across - was pining after him and ordered him to bring his ass to his flat, it had seemed a brilliant idea. Now, not so much. How was it possible that James wanted him, who barely looked like an alpha? Everyone bet that he was a beta or an omega when he wore scent blockers. Surely, James needed someone as outstanding and string as he was - not a scrawny boffin. "No, thanks" Q answered in the end and abandoned the Tupperware container on the coffee table, momentarily ignoring the alpha instinct to feed the drained omega niggling him at the back of his brain "James, can we talk?" he asked, cringing as the words left his mouth: they hardly sounded reassuring. James sighed: that was it, the moment when Q would gently remind him of the stupid fraternisation rules between colleagues and asked him to stop acting like a bloody schoolboy living his first crush "Of course, Quartermaster" The problem was, Q wasn't particularly good with words. Or feelings. Or anything that wasn't a string of numbers, really. So, he walked up to James and, warily, kissed his lips quickly "Was that okay?" The brushing of their lips definitely was too short and it left James to follow Q's mouth, snatching another brief kiss just after Q's question "Definitely" he grinned "Now, feed me" *** "They're disgustingly sweet" Bill observed, sitting on Eve's desk with a cup of tea balanced on his knee as he twisted to observe the camera feed of Q's office playing on Eve's computer. Eve grinned "Aww but they're so happy" "And not getting work done" Bill pointed out, but he wasn't really complaining: it was a relief seeing Q and James curled up on the battered sofa in Q's office, both of them sleeping off an exhausting mission. "To be fair, James never gets work done" Eve pointed out, tapping a pen on the reports the agent was supposed to have filled in and still were waiting. "True" Bill sighed, slipping off o the desk "I would stop spying on them, though: you don't want to see them getting... Reacquainted" "Who says I don't?" Eve inquired, mischievously wriggling her eyebrow. Her laughter followed Bill out of her office.