A/N: Sorry for the delay, RL tends to hate fan fiction writers, or maybe it's just me :) This is the end of the Sierra Madre portion of this story, or at least, near the end, we'll be heading back to the Mojave and Caesar/Randy real soon :) It is also the end of any chance of this story turning out Courier/Taker, sorry to anyone who was rooting for that couple. In an unrelated to This Is War vein: anyone who read Scars and/or Scar Tissue and was a Mark/Briar supporter, there is a one-shot Mark/Briar ficlet on Disenchanted (link in my profile) set before Scars takes place. Just in case you're interested ;)

37: Paying The Reaper

Courier had stepped out into the auditorium and made for the rows of gilt chairs, sinking down into one, feeling weariness creeping back into her bones. "He's not going to just let us walk away."

"Honey, I-" Shawn didn't seem to know what to say, and she could hear his concern even through her Pip-boys speakers, smiling slightly. She really wished she was there with him right, but knew that was something she couldn't have, not yet. As much as she cared for him, there were things that simply had to be done, a game that had to be played out and too much at stake for her to not play it.

"Congratulations, you're alive."

She stiffened, looking up from the black and green screen of her mini-computer to find 'Taker standing directly in front of her. "How's John?"

"Breathing. I packed the hole with some cloth, soaked it in whiskey to ward off infection. You and I had a deal."

"Deal's off."

"I don't think so, River."

"I do. I'm not having sex with you. Ever. Again. Understand?"

He kicked her right in the knee, smirking when she hunched over in her chair to clutch it and then grabbed a handful of her hair, dragging her towards the stage. "I upheld my end of the bargain and didn't kill that NCR trash, now it's your turn, time to pay the reaper."

Courier let out a grunt of pain when her upper back collided with the edge of the stage, bringing both legs up –and fighting back a whimper of pain in her left knee- to push him away. She rolled over onto her stomach and began crawling across the stage, pushing herself up to her feet only to wind up face down again, letting out a shriek of pain as pain exploded throughout her face.

"Changed my mind, I do want to fight you. And then I'll fuck you." He snarled, flipping her over and straddling her thighs, pinning her hands down on the wood stage flooring, aware of how deadly she could be when turned loose. He would know better than anyone, he had fought with her and nearly been killed by her a time or two over the course of the past ten years. Bringing his face down to hers, he bashed his forehead against her nose, instantly rewarded with a spurt of blood. "THAT is for trying to fucking kill me."

Tears and blood were streaming down and off the sides of her face, pain shooting through her skull and upward from her knee.

He next bit down on her lip, hard enough to make her squeal in his mouth, spitting blood when he pulled away. "THAT is for the last time we encountered each other before you lost your memory."

She remembered that plain as day. She had been on a cliff, staring down into the Mojave, knowing he was lurking nearby and sure enough, he had shown. She had confessed to once upon a time loving him, he had laughed at her, they had tried their best to hurt each other physically and emotionally, and when they had parted, she had warned him the next time they met, she would kill him.

She was definitely regretting not sticking to that the minute she had seen him at the fountain.

"I will never understand why you kept taking up with me, River." He said conversationally, pulling her dagger from the makeshift sheath at her side, using it to begin slicing off her pants, not about to free her legs until he had too. "You knew what a sick bastard I was then, hell, I was your enemy, you should have shot me on sight."

"I should've." She agreed, her voice coming out all wrong due to the broken nose and snorted, instantly regretting it as more waves of agony took over what had once been her face.

"But you didn't. Instead you snuck off to fuck me whenever you knew I was around, couldn't keep your pussy in check, could you? Bet you can't now." 'Taker leered, lifting himself enough to remove away the portion of her pants he had cut away, revealing nothing underneath except for her.

~!~

John was in sheer agony, and it wasn't helped by the screams that echoed around the theater. Groggily, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, his lips curling back from his teeth in a grimace of pain and leaned against the wood counter behind him, noting his position. Behind the bar. Gingerly, he prodded the place he had been shot, feeling packaging stuffed into the wound and flexed his arm, letting out a soft hiss.

Another scream sounded, and he frowned, turning to grip the edge of the counter and slowly pulled himself up. He had no memory of being back here, or any idea what had happened since let alone how much time had passed. He was assuming since he was alone, both Courier and 'Taker were dead, or clearing the place out.

What he saw on stage told him neither of those things was true, and he automatically reached for his sniper. He couldn't hold it and dropped it, instead going for his pistol.

~!~

"No, goddamn it, no!" Courier had freed her hands and was using them to inflict as much damage on 'Taker as possibly, trying to nail one good punch in his throat with every intention of killing him. She let out another scream of rage when he shoved her legs a part, feeling like she had just done the splits inadvertently, which hurt.

"KATY!"

Her mind was sent reeling, realizing Shawn was still on the communicator, and could hear everything, no doubt hearing what was going on between her and her attacker. "No, Yes Man, end-" She let another agonizing scream escape her mouth right before falling silent as nothing but pain took over. Taker had grabbed her by the nose, which was broken, and she could feel unconsciousness creeping in.

"Got loverboy on the line, do we?" He snarled, his venomous eyes moving to her Pipboy. "Hey Doc, you hear me, son?"

"I will KILL YOU!"

"How very unprofessional, doctor."

~!~

Shawn was turning green with every passing second as he listened to what was transpiring somewhere across the Mojave, underground. He couldn't hear Katy anymore, just the taunts of the Undertaker, and animalistic noises that made his stomach turn.

"Good goddamn doc, you must not be packin' much because she's still a tight lil- SON OF A BITCH!"

"THROW ME THE GUN, JOHN!"

That was Katy, she had come around finally and he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. He heard gunshots, more of them, followed by cursing and the shuffling noises of movement. "Katy?"

"I'm here…" She groaned, letting out a raspy cough, her voice sounding thick.

"I missed." John said, sounding apologetic. "My arm… I-"

"It's okay, I think you clipped him. Shawn, I have to go."

"No, no, don't you dare, Katy. Tell me what's-" Shawn frowned when Yes Man's screen went blank. "God damn it!"

~!~

John looked around the stage, his eyes landing on the sprinkles of blood that Taker had left behind and smiled grimly. He had definitely gotten the man, though he was still alive, John's aim had been off. Because of his arm, which made him frown, knowing that the botched shot would come back to haunt them. A pissed off, injured Undertaker was an even worse concept than the regular, insane version.

Finally, reluctantly, he turned back to the Courier, who was now getting to her feet, his eyes dropping to the stage floor and felt anger yet again pricking the back of his neck at the sight of her tattered leather pants around her feet. "I'll get you something from the-"

"Don't you dare leave me here alone." Courier said coldly under her breath, reaching out to grab his wrist in a painfully tight grip. "I need you to set my nose, John."

John did not like that idea and it showed plainly on his face. "You'll black out again." He cautioned, seeing the resolve in her eyes and knew he was going to do it. Sighing, he stepped forward and reached out awkwardly with his left hand. A second later, he was catching her with that arm, lowering her to the floor as gently as he could.

While she was out, he headed back to the bar to grab their gear and then returned to her. Somehow, he managed to redress her, fumbling with his right hand and arm, wincing with every move. They couldn't remain here, it was too open here. They could wind up picked off by the Undertaker or even Ghost People. They had been trying to get into the Sierra Madre, he knew that the gates wouldn't hold them forever.

They were running on borrowed time.

~!~

Getting down to this vault hadn't been easy… in fact, Courier and John were both planning on sleeping for a month if they made it out alive. They had navigated to the top floor of the casino, where they had found more Holograms and Christine, who had been ready to blow all of them to hell and back for some… very messed up reason.

It had been John who had talked her out of it and John who had gotten the key from her. The key that led them down into a level beneath the casino. From there they had to work their way through what was basically a maze of rooms, holograms and very narrow catwalks. With John's right arm out of commission, he had a very hard time keeping his balance and she was running purely on adrenaline at this point.

Courier glanced at him, looking none to worse for wear with her swollen and bruised face, and he had been politely ignoring the fact that she was walking a little odd, though that had in no way hindered her movements. She was forcing herself to move, just like he was trying to force himself to not clutch his arm in agony.

Nodding once, she took hold of the vault lever and opened it, both their eyes widening at the sight before them.

Gold, a lot of gold. There were bars stacked everywhere, more than they could ever want, and… Courier stopped herself when she realized she was gravitating towards the gold, reaching out to gently stop John. "We can't."

His blue eyes widened for a moment before he let out a resigned sigh. "Too heavy to carry and I'm…" He gave a slight wiggle of his ruined arm.

"That's one of the reasons. This is part of the problem with this hellhole though, everyone thinks there's a treasure here and they're right. Do you have any idea the amount of trouble this gold would cause us? Even if we could find someone to sell it too at a proper price, we'd still be watching our asses for life."

"More than we are now?" He suggested wryly, unable to help himself.

"Something like that."

John and Courier both whirled around when the vault door shut itself, exchanging looks.

"That is not good."

Courier shook her head, obviously agreeing with him and approached the terminal near the far wall. She began flicking through the various files. After reading through several of them, she began paling but at the same time also inwardly sent a silent prayer of thanks that she had started off with the file marked Vera first, or else they would have wound up dead down here.

John read everything over her shoulder. "Don't open the personal accounts folder."

"No shit?"

He ignored the sarcasm, turning to look around the vault again. "Now what?"