A/N: I liiiiiivve!

"Heheh…..C'mon boys, fresh meat!

"G-get off of me! Let me go now!"

"No way girly…heheh…"

"I said get off!"

THWAK

"OW! Little bitch!"

"He-Help! Someone help me!"

"Tsk…Raiders." He had always hated them. Their habits, their armor…. their smell, always the smell of rotting flesh. Well, what was to be expected of cannibals. Some people just couldn't stay sane in a broken world.

Death, a tall, well-muscled wanderer looked down the scope of his sniper rifle aimed at the forehead of a Raider guard. He was perched on the peak of a small hill not to far from the Raider's camp, using his tanned combat duster as camouflage against the dry earth. He would never admit it to anyone though, but he love picking off these little bastards. Maybe it was revenge for killing his parents, or maybe it was a simple quirk. Either way, the clean headshot he pulled off made him smile.

He slid down the side of the hill to the front of the camp with his duster fluttering in the desert wind. The camp didn't appear to be guarded out front by anyone else and the body had little else on it besides his armor and a poorly cared for gun. Death took the pathetic weapon anyway, for spare parts.

The camp itself was set up in the ruins of an old elementary school which made for a horribly creepy atmosphere, especially with the cages containing human remains right under the faded paint of happy suns and flower fields and peppy school mascots. It was even unnerving Death.

Death switched out his rifle in favor of his silenced 9mm handgun for sneaking around the school hallways. He skillfully and silently took down most of the Raiders with out diving into direct conflict. The only problem with raiding the Raiders was, they never had any good gear, only basic weapons and primitive armor. Caps were found on some of the bodies that day and even in some of the gore bags, but only a minimal amount. He was about to leave when he heard a muffled cry and the sound of wood hitting flesh, soon followed by another cry. It was close by too, just through a metal door. A janitor's closet.

The wanderer crouched next to the door and opened it slowly. …Good the Raider inside didn't seem to notice. Their stupidity was their only redeeming quality, well for the ones killing them off that is. In a blur of movement, Death grabbed the collar of the Raider and yanked him back, off his balance. The flailing cannibal cried out only to be silenced by a bullet between the eyes. He quickly searched the body out of habit, finding a bloodied baseball bat as the only other item.

Inside the closet was a woman, a very hurt, yet beautiful woman. She only had on a few scraps of clothing, tan skin and chocolate brown hair that draped over her shoulders. She was terrified; she had a right to be. Her mouth was gagged and her hands and feet were bound. They were probably going to rape her then eat her, and Death felt proud that he had finally found a survivor of one of these camps. He knelt down in front of her, drawing his survival knife from the sheath on his thigh; however she tried to scoot away, shaking her head furiously back and forth and whimpering.

"Hey, take it easy." He said in his rough voice, "I'm not here to hurt you. I've taken care of the Raiders, you're safe."

She didn't appear to hear or understand him, seeing as she threw her bound hands into his jaw in a desperate attempt to keep him away. Unfortunately for her, this only pissed him off.

"Ouch! Hey!" he shouted, holding her hands still, "I could easily walk out of here and leave you for the radroaches or super mutants! Now if you don't want my help, I'll waltz right on out of here."

She held Death's stern gaze with a glare from her almost golden eyes, but nodded and let out what seemed to be an aggravated huff.

"That's better. Now hold still." He cut the ropes on her feet and hand and untied the gag from her mouth.

She rubbed at the raw flesh on her wrists and ankles. "Thanks." She muttered.

The woman had numerous cuts and bruises on her body, and from what Death could see, her right leg appeared to be at least slightly broken, and she had a nasty bump over her right eye.

Death un-shouldered his knapsack and dug through it for some bandages and a few stimpacks. "Here, let me take care of your leg."

She glared at him again. "I don't need your help." she spat. She tried to stand up on her own but plummeted back onto the floor after a searing pain shot up her leg. "…..Damn…"

Death rolled his eyes, "Yes you do need my help." He unwrapped a stimpack and injected its healing fluids into her injured limb. "There, now that wasn't so bad now was it? Now try to stand up."

The woman stood up without any problem. Ah the miracle powers of stimpacks. "Do you have a name? Or can I just call you Jailbait."

She glared again. If looks could kill, Death would be living up to his name. "My name is Vajra. Do you have a name? Or can I just call you Hardass."

"I'm Death. Nice to meet you too." He snapped. "A little gratitude for saving your ass would be nice."

Vajra scowled at the floor, "Thank you." she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Death sighed to himself, this was going to be the last time he rescues anyone, ever. "You're welcome. Asshole" he muttered the last bit to himself. He adjusted his fedora, "Welp, no use staying here longer than necessary. I'm willing to take you back to Megaton to get you patched up. Or you can go off wherever the hell you want. Your call."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself." she spat and stormed, or more like limped off.

The wanderer shook his head. What was with this woman?! The number one rule of wasteland survival was, if you can, never travel alone. There were too many dangers out there for one person to take on. Though Death had on more than one occasion, he still preferred to have someone watching his back when he could. He left the ruined school, stepping into the blinding sunlight of the Capitol Wasteland.

The once richly forested, or vastly populated area was now reduced to a mere desert thanks to the nuclear war that caused this whole mess. Death could barely remember a time when he could didn't have to be armed to the teeth to step outside his house. At least he was alive and sane, that was the most anyone could ask for out here.

"Tsk. Women…"

As she walked from the ruined school, Vajra shook her head in disapproval and mumbled to herself. "What an idiot…!"

Did he really just try to help me? To save me? This guy must have really been something else.

"And I suppose he thinks he's some good looking super hero as well! I hope I never have the displeasure of running into him ever again!" she ranted to herself, limping across the wasteland.

There was a stomping sound coming from behind her. At first she thought it was Death again and reached for the nearly broken laser pistol resting in her hip holster. Why the Raiders hadn't taken it from her, she would never understand. But she quickly realized, the stomping was coming from more than one source. Two…three…almost ten sets of feet were heading her way.

Now she was starting to get scared. Vajra spun around, drawing her pistol and aiming it at her pursuers… a horde of one of the most dreaded Wasteland creatures. The Deathclaws

"Oh shit!" she spat and fired at the approaching creatures.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to piss them off. The biggest one, also the one she had been shooting at charged right at her, roaring in fury.

"Shitshitshit!" she hissed, reverting to a run and gun method. This proved to be an even worse tactic. Every shot missed and soon the fatal sound of an empty chamber clicked in her ears.

"FUCK!" She only had one last feeble defense strategy. Throwing her useless weapon into the Deathclaw's face. The pistol clunked onto the dirt. She was screwed, she was good as dead, and she was positively fucked.

The big Deahclaw swiped at her, just barely missing her stomach and nearly gutting her like a fish. She tried running, but didn't get very far with her bad leg and the Deathclaws were literally right on top of her.

Meanwhile, Death was beginning to take the daylong trek back to Megaton. He was tired, grouchy, hadn't bathed in over a week, hungry, and overall in a foul mood. He just wanted to go home, bathe, and sleep the rest of the day away, and maybe even the next one. Not to mention that Vajra woman had pissed him off to no end. Just who the hell did she think she was?!

He heard the bone-chilling roar of a Deathclaw close by. Instinctively he dove behind the closest rock for cover. "Bloody fuck! What's a pack of those bastards doing this far South?!"

He peeked over the top of his boulder. It wasn't just a pack, it was a fucking hoard of them. They appeared to be attacking someone. Was that a laser pistol? The poor fuck they were after was as good as….

"Vajra?!" What the hell! This woman had THE worst luck he had ever seen!

He should have kept walking; he should have left her for dead and saved himself. Of course he couldn't; no, of course he had to pull her ass of the fire. The Deathclaw infested fire…fuck.

Death quickly dug through his bag, he knew it was in here somewhere…ah, there was that flare. He lit it and threw it far across the desert. Now he could only wait and see if the took the bait.

The Deathclaw stopped their attack and looked up at the bright red light. They exchanged grunts and snarls and went off to investigate the glowing lights. Where the 'Claws had been grouped, there was a miserable lump. A breathing lump, but a lump nonetheless.

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap."

It was Vajra. They had gotten her good, but she was alive. There were slash marks across her back, not too deep though but they needed to be bandaged and cleaned to prevent infection. Other than that and the few wounds she had from the Raiders, she would make it out of this alive.

He scoped her up bridal style easily. She was skinnier than she seemed to be, like she hadn't eaten in a long while. Besides the fact that she was bleeding profusely, the sun was beginning to set as well. Night time out in the Wasteland was never a good place to be. He was going to have to hole up for the night. Vajra was in no condition to make a night trek.

There was a small cave not to far from the attack site. Death had to strip her down to the cloth wraps on her feet to bandage up the wounds on her back. She was close to being considered emaciated, in fact Death could count her ribs if he felt like it. Other than that, she would be considered beautiful. But this was the furthest thought in Death's mind; right now he was concerned with keeping her alive.

Once her wounds and her body were dressed, Death laid out a spare blanket on the floor of the cave and gently placed her unconscious form on top of it, draping his combat duster over top of her. He set up a campfire after she was situated. It was small enough not to be noticed by passers by and big enough to provide the both of them warmth. Wasteland nights were brutally cold, even in the summer months.

Vajra shifted around in her sleep. Her back was burning slightly. Why was it….Oh, that's right. The Deathclaws. They had gotten the jump on her. So how come she wasn't dead right now? She had seen 'Claws literally rip people apart, and that was just one. She had been attacked by over ten. How in the world was she still alive?!

There was something draped over her like a blanket. She pinched a portion of the mystery fabric between her forefinger and her thumb. It felt like worn leather, and it smelt unwashed, with the strangest undertone of…mint? Under the smell of blood and sweat and unwashed leather…was mint?

So who was the guy who saved her ass? Immediately her mind painted a picture of her hero. Long flowing blonde hair, movie star good looks, rippling pectoral muscles, and a voice that melted her heart like butter. Not a thing like the scruffy old wanderer from before.

She sighed, longing for the hero of her dream.

"Well, welcome back to the land of the living."

Her eyes snapped open. That was not the buttery voice of her daydream. There, sitting next to her, was Death. Oh you have got to be kidding me!

Vajra glared daggers at him, "I didn't asked to be rescued by the likes of you."

At this Death couldn't help but roll his eyes, "I'm sorry, would you have liked to have bled to death?"

She scoffed at his snarky reply, but what does he mean by "Bled to death?" She tried to sit up, but something wrapped tight around her chest and abdomen restricted her from doing so. When running her hand up and down her side, she discovered that there were bandages wrapped around her chest and abdomen. It dawned on her, that the only way Death could have treated her wounds, was to entirely undress her.

Death recognized the incredulous glare he was receiving, "What?"

Without another word, Vajra swung a closed fist into Death's jaw, "Bastard!"

"Ow! Bloody fuck woman! What the hell is your problem?!" he shouted, rubbing his jaw.

"Did you have to strip me to get these bandages on?!"

In a fit of anger, Death threw his fedora on the ground, reveling his full face to Vajra for the first time. "First off, why are you asking this after punching me in the face?! And second, yes I had to strip you naked to SAVE YOUR LIFE!" he bellowed. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

Vajra was to busy focusing on his face to be worried about what he was saying. Death was… absolutely gorgeous. Even better than her daydream man. His hair was the most fixating, jet black with three stark white rings circling his head. Not only that, but he had these piercing golden eyes that appeared to go as deep as his soul. A strong, defined jaw line covered in black stubble along with defined muscles that were visible through his grey t-shirt. She felt her cheeks heat up. Wait…did that mean….she was…okay…with him undressing her? No…no no. Never, not in a million years would she be okay with anyone doing that again.

Her face never reveled any of these thoughts. She just glared in his general direction.

Death simply had to chuckle a bit at her glare. "What? Oh I get it, you were expecting Prince charming. Well guess what," he leaned close to her face, "I'm the best you're going to get. So suck it up or die. Your call."

Vajra smacked his jaw again. This guy had some nerve; she'd give him that. She huffed and rolled over so that her back was facing the fire and Death.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Death grumbled to himself, picking his hat off of the ground and dusting it off.

Night fell quickly and the Wasteland became silent.