Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3, nor am I affiliated with Bethesda Softworks. I do not write this for profit.

FYI: Heroine – the feminine form of "hero"

Heroine? Not Bloody Likely

*wham* *wham*

The faint sound of a beating was the first noise he heard.

*wham* *wham*

'Hmm… no exclamations of pain. Either someone's beating a corpse, or it's not a person being hit.'

Raising his torso from the bed, he stretched. Looking around his suite, and down at the bed, he smiled. 'Another fun night. I need to send get these sheets laundered today,' he noted, seeing the sexual fluid stains on the linens.

A look to the nightstand found his sunglasses. 'She likes those on me, even when they aren't necessary.'

Rising from the bed, not bothering to dress, he strode confidently, naked, to his bedroom door, the beating noises growing louder as he did, and opened it…

To find himself confronted with a mattress, and some heavy cloth, leaning in front of the door. 'Tacky, but effective. Considerate of her.'

Moving the cloth-covered mattress, a rather effective sound blocker, away from the door had the effect of greatly increasing the volume of the beating sounds. Making as little noise as possible, he crept quietly over to the beater and... wrapped his arms around the beautiful, scantily-clad woman. To his surprise, she did not flinch, leaning into his embrace instead.

He felt, rather than saw, her smile, as she spoke, "Good morning, Alex. I hope I didn't wake you."

Leaning his mouth towards her ear, he murmured, "I think that punching bag could use a break, Tanya. You're going to kill it at this rate," before kissing her ear.

She giggled. 'What a pleasant sound.' "Stop that. My hips are sore enough as it is, and I have places to go today." She squirmed a bit, trying to get comfortable in his arms as she leaned back onto him, but moving her head away from his mouth.

'Shame, I could have gone for another round, but she is not the only one with business to conduct today.' "Are you done?" A nod. "Join me in the shower?" The smile widened.

Half an hour later, and wearing only pants, he walked out of the suite to the elevator, intent on bringing some breakfast back to the suite, leaving her to see to her gear.

Leaving the elevator, he inclined his head to Gustavo as he strode to Café Beau Monde. 'Not the smartest man alive, but his hiring was one of my better ideas.' The man was a former mercenary, and had done some work for Talon Company, but found that his scruples wouldn't bend far enough to continue that work. After leaving, he'd founded a mercenary company called "The Iron Men", an obvious parody of the Brotherhood. Tenpenny, however, had other ideas, and (at his suggestion1) hired the company en masse as security for the tower.

Arriving at the Café, the old woman Primrose welcomed him. "Good morning, Mister Burke. You look hale and hearty today," she remarked, kindly.

He chuckled. "I had a pleasant evening, Ms. Primrose."

"Ah," she smiled knowingly, "that young lady again? I hope you didn't ply her with alcohol." Her demeanor shifted from friendly to a kind of playful scolding as she said that.

"Not at all, I'll have you know. In fact, she was the one who tackled me into the bed this time."

"Ah, to be young again… But I forget myself. What would you like today, Mister Burke?"

"Mutfruit, and Mirelurk Cakes for two, please. Ah, do you have some Brahmin milk as well?"

"Well, I do have a little left, but ever since that young lady of yours built that churn all of my customers have been wanting Brahmin butter with their food, so I've been running through it rather quickly."

"Well, two glasses of Brahmin milk. That comes to…?"

As she opened the refrigerator to check her stock, she replied, "Twenty-five caps, Mister Burke. Shall I charge it to your room?"

"That's fine."

Returning to the room, he found her with a whetstone, sharpening the talons on that strange glove of hers. 'What did she call it? Ah yes, a Deathclaw gauntlet.' "And breakfast is served, my lady."

With a muffled word of thanks, she dug into the fruit. Preferring to eat at a more sedate pace, he watched her devour the food, her white teeth contrasting with the purple Mutfruit. "I must say, I am impressed by the dental hygiene practiced in the Vault."

She stopped eating, a strange look on her face, and swallowed. 'Pity she's not swallowing something else…' But before he could lose himself in the memories of the previous evening, her mouth opened to speak. "I suppose it is impressive, compared to the Wastes. I was raised by the Vault doctor, so he ingrained hygiene into me from a young age."

"It shows, " he assured her, taking in her wonderful complexion. Her hair was brushed to a fine shine, and then wrapped into a tight bun. 'Pity. It looks so enticing down.'

Normally, she wore a dark cloth covering over the bun, given its bright red color (bright colors being a liability in the field). Her skin was still pale, but not nearly as much as it had been, and it was showing a steadily darkening tan.

She'd somehow figured out how to make sunscreen lotion, and had spent time tanning, in the nude no less, upon the roof of the Tower. As with bright colors, pale skin shone in the sun, and thus could be perceived from much further away than dark skin. While she might have tanned faster without the lotion, the lack of sunburn made the wait worth it.

'Hmm. She frowned when she mentioned the doctor.'

Quite obviously changing the subject, she inquired, "Another business trip?"

He sighed. Much as he might like to know more, he had no desire to push her. "Yes. I have a meeting with Moriarty, with Mr. Roe of Canterbury Commons, and then with Bannon in Rivet City. I will be gone at least a week, possibly longer."

"Oh." She hesitated, and then went on. "I'll miss you," she said quietly, a small blush on her face.

His eyes widened. While he knew his own feelings, and had made her aware of them, she'd been hesitant to speak of hers. Smiling, he replied, "Well, I do think I might miss you as well." He chuckled as her blush deepened. "Shall I get you anything while I'm gone?"

A moment passed. "Well, there are two things I need, " came the response.

"And those are?"

Another pause. "… I could use an AER9 and some micro-fusion cells, for one thing."

He reeled. As unexpected as that was, it was also expensive even for someone of his resources. Suddenly, she grinned. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't make you spend all that money on me. Here, "she handed him a bag, "that's my royalties from the Brahmin butter, two hundred fifty caps." After building one for Ms. Primrose, she'd made a second and sold it for a small fee and sale royalties (as she had with Primrose) to "Doc" Hoff, to take to his suppliers. She'd guessed from his regular supply of Brahmin milk and steak that some of them had Brahmin, and thus far the money had been coming in regularly.

'Well, the caravaners have to be trustworthy or else no one would do business with them,' he mused. "If I can find one, in reasonable condition, it shall be yours."

"Don't worry too much if it isn't. Just get me some parts on your way back: I know enough that I should be able to fix one."

"As you say. And… the second thing?"

She paused once more, this time with some genuine worry on her face. "… Could you try to find a man named James Pascal? 2 I've been looking for him."

Saying his name seemed to take something out of her. He stared at her, impassively. "Who is he?"

Fully expecting her to admit he was her lover, and that she'd been using him, he was surprised to hear, "My father."

"Really?"

"… He left the Vault, leaving me behind, without telling me where he was going or why. All he said was that there was something he needed to do, and that I was old enough that I didn't need him anymore."

'Now this is a revelation.' She hadn't spoken of family in the three months they'd been together, and he hadn't asked. Finding out she had a living father, and was out looking for him, spoke volumes about her.

"You must have been close to your father to willingly leave an active Vault to find him."

She shook her head. "I was, but that's not why I left."

"So, why then?"

"… I'd rather not talk about that. It's not important anyway, as I don't think I'll be able to return."

Elbows on the table, he laced his fingers together and held them in front of his face, the very picture of pensiveness. "… So, that's why you took up with me."

She flinched. "Not… not exactly." Seeing the look on his face, she decided to elaborate, "I really did think you were handsome, and charming," she smiled shyly at him, unsure of his reaction to her assurance, "and I was attracted to you. At the same time, I could plainly see that you were well off, and even by then I knew enough about the Wasteland to know that no one gets rich without having connections out here.

"Megaton was the first place that I found any leads about my father, so I couldn't let you destroy it. At the same time, I couldn't ignore your offer, since you'd just wait for someone else. So, I tried to charm you out of it. And when you reacted as strongly as you did…"

"You decided to see how valuable I would be to your quest," he finished.

She trailed off, a tiny amount of… was that shame in her eyes? She was ashamed of herself for taking advantage of his feelings. 'A rare thing in the Waste, someone with strong morals.' "I suspected that you did not share the depth of my feelings." At her look, he smiled, "In my line of work, one learns to be perceptive. Even as enamored of you as I was, my senses were not so dull that I would be fooled."

Now she looked away, seemingly feeling worse. "And have your feelings changed?"

She turned back to him, stared a long moment, and sighed. When her eyes rose to meet his, the shame had faded, to be replaced by warmth. She reached out a hand, and touched his face. An affectionate gesture, one he'd seen passionate couples use before.

He closed his eyes as her hand caressed his face. He could feel the calluses at the base of her fingers, the base of each knuckle, and around the edge of her palm ("Ten years of a wrench" she had said when he'd asked about them). Despite them, her hand felt like silk, touching his stubble. When his eyes opened again, she finally responded. "More than I thought they would."

Another long pause. "In the Vault, the generations were always separated by eight years. There were less than twenty in mine, and… none of them were the slightest bit attractive. My only real prospect was a man named Herman Gomez, one of the security officers, but not only was he sixteen years older than me, he was married, and had a son in my generation. So when I say he was my only prospect, I mean in the sense that he was the only one I would have considered sleeping with."

She looked uncomfortable, but she persevered. "So, when I met you, I was already interested in older men. I… was certainly not falling for you like you were for me, and I'm still not, but… When I said I would miss you, I didn't mean just the sex. When you said you were leaving, I actually felt sad that you were going. And even now I'm wishing for your safe return when you do leave. Because even if I don't love you, I do enjoy your company."

While she was talking, she had moved to his sofa. Pulling him along, she sat him down, and leaned into him as she sat down with him. It was plain to see that she didn't want to face him right now, just as it was plain just how much all of that had been bothering her. Alex Burke was not a sentimental man, but it warmed his heart in a way that only she could to see that it bothered her so to deceive him.

A thought occurred, and he smiled. "Do you suppose your father would approve of me?"

After a moment, she started shaking. It took a little longer for him to realize that she was trying not to laugh. Glad that he had released her tension, he waited for her to speak. She snorted, "Like hell. He'd probably think I was better off with a Raider, if he knew what kind of man you were."

Surprised, he hesitated before asking, "And this doesn't bother you?"

"…After what happened down there in the Vault, my father's opinion on my lovers is not something I'll be spending any time worrying over. Besides which," she leaned up and kissed him firmly, dueling his tongue for a moment, "I think I can change you. Make you into a respectable man."

The amused look on her face suited her. "I already have changed. And I'm glad I mean so much to you."

She looked anxious. "You do, Alex. You really do. Actually, if I didn't have things to do myself, I'd spend the rest of the day trying to make you postpone your trip."

Glad to see her smile returning, Burke inclined his head, "That would be… a challenge. Trying to resist you would be difficult indeed."

Author's Notes: 1 meaning at Burke's suggestion, not Tenpenny's. I wanted to make this more clear, but I was also trying to hold off on revealing Burke's name at this point.

2 I've used the surname Pascal here, and will use it in any other Fallout 3 fanfics I write. Pascal is the name of the unit used expressly to denote water pressure, and given the nature of the tongue-in-cheek humor of Fallout, and such NPC names as Mother Curie III (an obvious reference to Marie Curie) in Broken Steel, I thought it fit.

The entire point of this fanfic (and there will be at least one more chapter) is in response to using the Black Widow Perk on Burke to convince him not to blow up Megaton. The use of Alex as his first name is completely made up, but it's a joke that will become apparent after the second chapter. This particular LW is female, named Tanya, and she is an "unarmed" type. I felt that the DC gauntlet is the single most badass weapon in Fallout 3, so, why not?