Tell me what I'm supposed to do with all these leftover feelings of you, 'cause I don't know.

He was gone when she woke up. She sat up quickly, heart in her throat and half expecting armed thugs to burst in through the door with sawed off shotguns and the mercy of Satan. Scrambling off the bed, she dove for the .44 half caught in her duster and brought it to bear at the doors.

Silence but for the pounding of the blood in her ears.

All at once, the tension melted out of her shoulders, and she realized she had no clothes on. The grey-white of a note on the nightstand caught her eye before she reached for the armor. Her grey eyes skimmed over the words. The .44 hung loose at her side.

I won't be around for a while, but if everything works out right, you and me are a date, got it? Wouldn't miss it for all the caps in Vegas.

That god damn, cock-sucking, mother fucking son of a bitch.

Now don't get clingy and try to follow me.

Asshole.

Anger made #6 crumple up the note in her hand and sneer, but something else dulled the edge of her fury. Something like respect; he got one up on her. God, and after all that weird shit she said to just convince the guy to let his guard down.

Courier 1, Benny 2.

When she'd finagled her way into his bed with a mind to just cap the sucker once he was asleep, she hadn't planned on him turning the tables. Now she was the one caught with her pants down. So to speak.

Frowning, she tossed the note aside and hurried back into her armor. She'd have to update Boone on the situation. He'd be disappointed that he wouldn't get the chance to snipe some Legionnaires, but he would just have to understand.

This was her business.

She broke into a jog once she cleared Freeside and swung southeast. To be entirely honest, it wasn't the radiation making her face burn. And, as she rounded the first hill, it wasn't just the sex and the brown-nosing either.

After shooting her in the head, after pulling a one-night-stand, after trying to get her killed at every angle – she liked Benny.

He was smooth. He was charming. He was a looker, something fairly difficult to come by in these parts. He wasn't missing an ear or an eye. He was strong. He was at least half intelligent enough to reprogram Yes-Man. And he was an expert, a professional.

He had ambition, and he wasn't a fanatic, a cyborg, or a soldier.

When a gecko came screaming at her from behind a pile of radioactive barrels, she waited until it was within arm's reach and slammed the butt of the .44 into its skull with enough force to put it on its face. Such was her frustration.

She ended its life with a single shot.

Black fluid leaked from the carcass. She looked at it for a moment, feeling the sweat running between her shoulder blades and prickling her scalp. It reminded her of last night, of the lust in his eyes and a mutated mixture of attraction and respect and appreciation blunting his silvered tongue and crawling its way into her icy heart.

Curling a lip, she leveled a well-aimed kick at the gecko's head.

"Damn you, Benny."

"What the fuck…?"

Benny had to squint up at her from where he knelt on the ground, hands tied behind his back. He'd been beaten, captured. When she took off the Legion helmet, a smile lit across his face. His laugh was something terrible, but her own smile bespoke the heady cocktail of venom and success hiding in her eyes. "You lying piece of shit," he said. "You said you'd let bygones be bygones."

She tisked, tucking the helmet under one arm.

"Oh, baby, you forget. You shot me in the head and made the mistake of not finishing the job."

"I told you it wasn't personal, pussycat." The apology in his voice was almost convincing, but it made her heart buckle all the same. She couldn't tell if the expression on his face was smarm or relief.

The Courier knelt down to his level. The gravel and sand crunched under her boots. She took his chin in her hand. It was fortunate she couldn't feel his skin through her glove. She didn't let the tumult of …what were they, feelings? Sure. She didn't let the tumult of feelings show on her face.

"Did you? Take a look where it got you."

Benny's smile was still charming through the blood on his lips and the shiner under one eye. "Got me there. Guess I've been livin' the high life a bit too long, huh?"

"You could say that." She let her hand fall away, and they were silent for a moment. "Caesar has given me the choice of what happens to you."

His eyes swung slowly up to her face. "Did he now?" His voice was quiet, reserved. Final. When he smiled, it was half full of regret. "Ain't that a kick in the head."

"Ain't it, though?"

"You better pick wisely, kiddo. You get in that arena with me and only a machete, you gonna regret it. Boy, are you gonna regret it, baby."

The Courier was silent, only staring back into Benny's dark, devilish eyes and the half-hearted threat behind them.

"Benny, doll, I'm going to tell you something." Her tone locked his attention on her. She half-smiled, flicking a pebble near her foot. "I was going to kill you last night."

"Somehow that don't surprise me."

"Either way, I didn't. You rocked me, baby, and I didn't expect it. Matter of fact, you still are." His brow furrowed, but he stayed quiet. "Those things I said to get you up there were an act. I just wanted to put a bullet between your eyes and be done."

She looked back up at him. The bravado was gone, replaced by an uncertain seriousness caught between sobriety and anxiety. "But, I'm not gonna lie, honey. There was something there." A microscopic tilt of his head. "There was something there, and you know it."

"You gotta elaborate, pussycat. I ain't followin'."

It was a gamble; New Vegas, right? She had to play on his surprise. She had to take advantage of the uncertainty there in his face. Benny wasn't the only skilled talker in the West.

She rolled her eyes. "You respect me, you piece of shit. As you showed last night, when you do a job, you do it right. So when the fool you shot in the head and left to die came waltzing up to you in your own damn casino, you were floored."

Benny chuckled, shrugging guiltily. Game point. The Courier leaned forward.

"You respected me then, and you respect me now. Baby, you're so caught up with me, you couldn't even hack your way through a paper bag full of fanatics." She smirked, brushing his cheek with her lips. "Don't deny it, Benny. You haven't got much left to lose at this point."

His breathing had harshened for a split second, and she watched him swallow once at the proximity.

"Yeah? You may have me there, pussycat. Maybe I respect you. Hell, maybe I even like you. But I did say don't get clingy and try to follow me. I knew you had it out for me, but I sure as hell didn't realize you were carrying a torch for me either."

Game, set, and match. He sounded smug at having caught her in the same predicament she had caught him. What he didn't know was that now she didn't have to feel like a sucker, lured in by some pretty words and fancy hips. Relief and victory made her laugh, but she made it light and unassuming. "Guilty as charged, I guess."

When she pulled away, his smile was back to its slick charm. "We're a pair o' heels, girly." His smile faded, though, when the muzzle of her .44 dug into his chin and the hammer clicked back.

"A real pair," she replied slowly, poisonously.

The angel of vengeance had won.

Time stopped. Though his smile had lessened, the humor in Benny's eyes did not flee before the fear of death. In fact, he tilted his head back for her to get a better angle at his throat. His eyes stayed locked with hers, challenging and furious, enchanting and imperious all at the same time. The Courier returned the gun to its holster.

Benny flinched when she grabbed him by the back of the head and forced his face towards hers. She spoke in his ear, pressing his cheek to hers. A sweet pain had blossomed in her chest, weeping and cheering at the same time. The one man who'd managed to thaw her icy gaze had succeeded in steeling it ever more.

"Better put your big boy pants on, honey. Don't let that little 'ol arena scare you."

His voice sent chills up her spine.

"I underestimated you once, baby. Don't think I'm gonna let it happen again."

"It was nice knowing you, Benny."

"A real treat, kiddo. We coulda made some sweet music together."

After it was all over, after she had put that machete through his skull three times, then she felt the tears cutting tracks through the blood on her face.

AN: So, I deviated a bit from the game, but I couldn't remember the dialogue so I improvised. Just a bit of angst/dysfunctional romance spurred by listening to 'Roadside' by Rise Against on repeat. It's probably a little rambling and makes zero sense, but do drop me a note about your thoughts.