Everything

When she runs out of Gould's tent , she knows Monroe is right behind her. Charlie watches how Duncan puts a bullet in Gould's head with deadly precision. Her mind repeats the same thing over and over again. He is still alive. She is still alive.

This is not the first time it's him and her, here in New Vegas. But this time, she came back to New Vegas with him and with the memory of coming here for the first time with her desire to kill him and all her raging anger and hate.

His eyes had found hers before they had walked into a city filled with their past. She had tried to put distance between her and Monroe but when they had walked into New Vegas, his leather jacket had brushed against hers.

She had met Duncan Page, the reason why they were here. Monroe had been an asshole to her when he had told her and Connor to wait outside so he could start his negotiations.

Outside, Connor's eyes had lazily flowed over her body. She has been playing with how close she lets Connor from the moment Monroe returned from Mexico. Connor is a part of him. But he isn't him. He isn't smug dangerous death.

Connor's smirk and easy eyes could have been an easy way out of the mess that is Monroe and her heart in one place. But she is a Matheson. They never take the easy way out.

Their plan of paying Duncan for her mercenaries with stones they would steal from Gould himself, had gone to hell in less than two hours. She had to watch how Gould put both Monroe men in a cage. Charlie had known that this time, she had to find a way out for the both of them. She did. She is exhausted. Her muscles ache. But she has found a way out.

Duncan's shot echo's in the air around her. She doesn't have to turn around to know that Gould is dead. She keeps on running until she can finally leave the tent behind her where she almost had to watch him die. Cool air brushes against her skin.

Bass puts a hand on Connor's shoulder to make sure he keeps on going. They don't stop until they find a quiet place, far away from the chaos. Duncan tries to talk to him but right now he is too pissed at her to talk. He doesn't know what the hell happened, but he does know that Charlie is probably the reason why he is still alive.

Every breath he takes hurts inside his damn chest. His whole body hurts like hell. He looks at Charlie, before he exchanges a look with Connor. They have both noticed the dress. He knows Gould made her wear it. Rage fills his blood.

She won't meet his eyes. His mouth is dry with more worry for what that son of a bitch did to her. If Duncan had not killed him, he would have ripped his throat out himself. He has to swallow before he can talk to her.

'Are you all right?'

Monroe's voice is deep and hoarse. Charlie can hear how exhausted he is. She also hears the raw concern in his words.

But she is standing in front of him in a dress that symbolizes another man who thought he could control and use her. And everything she has felt in the last twenty-four hours, reaches the surface in a way she doesn't want to show him. She barely looks at him. She just nods yes.

'Be right back.' It's all she can give him before she turns around and walks away from him, Connor and Duncan. She needs to get her stuff. She needs to get out of this dress.

She walks back to the trailer Gould put her in earlier today. When she closes the old, rusty door behind her she takes a deep breath. The air around her is stuffy but she is finally alone. Inside the small but quiet trailer she gives herself one minute to push away everything she can't feel right now.

When she walks out of the trailer in her own clothes and with her leather jacket that feels warm against her skin, she feels more like herself again. Duncan and Connor are nowhere to be seen. She doesn't know where they are. She does know that Monroe is walking towards her. The wave of raw relieve that flows through her body, unlocks everything inside of her she feels for him.

When he stops in front of her she can see the deep red of blood close his lips. Her eyes move over the bruises in his face. She can see the sweat that's clinging to the skin of his neck. She can see the invisible scares of this day hidden in his eyes.

She knows he was going to give up his life for Connor. It's knowing that for sure that changes how she looks at the man standing in front of her.

Bass looks at her. She doesn't look away. His eyes move over her body. He needs to know she isn't hurt. Her skin is smooth tan covered in sweat and her eyes are still filled with adrenaline and fight. Her breasts flow with every new breath she takes.

He should thank her. He knows he fucking should. Because he can her his own voice again. Mini Miles? She's gonna come and save us? Let's just hold our breath. He had been unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice after Connor had told him Charlie was still out there to get them both out.

He had felt the old pain of Miles' betrayal as cold ice in his blood when he had talked about her like that. He had felt all the reasons why he did not deserve her and all the reasons why he wanted to be the man who did deserve her.

Because she is the kind of woman who stays. She stays if she has decided she will fight with you.

And he knows it is fucked up, but something swells inside his chest when he realizes she has decided she will fight with and for him.

He had stood there, nailed to the damn ground, seconds after he had been so damn sure he would sacrifice his life so his kid would live. Because there she was, yelling at him and Connor to stand back so she could open the lock that separated them. His chest had been filled with heavy heartbeats. Because she stayed.

And now he is finally alone with her. And he doesn't know what to say to her. But he sees all the woman she is. The fighter. Her loyalty and strength. He sees so much in her eyes that he can't fucking think anymore. He just takes one step closer to her before he moves her body against his.

When his mouth moves over hers she doesn't stop him. Her whole body just responds to him when his body connects with hers. His mouth is warmth against hers. She can taste him. It's deep. It's fight and life. It's him.

She can hear his harsh breathing when he finally takes her where she has refused to take them herself. With his arm around her back, he walks them both to the cover of the shadows between two trailers. She moves her arm around his neck. His hand moves to her ass to press her harder against him. He gently wraps his other hand around her cheek. Her hair flows over his hand. But he can't control the violent want he feels for her. He pushes her against the wall of the trailer behind her. A low moan that escapes from her lips makes him want her even more.

Even though he is kissing her with so much intensity she can barely breathe, she still knows where she is. She still knows who is kissing her. The force in kiss is filled with control and steel. His groan is rough and low. His hands are possessive but the way he pulls her against his chest and catches her when she lets go tells another story.

New Vegas changed them into something that they weren't before they came here. She should stop this. She should walk away from him. But his low groan crashes straight through the wall around her heart. His body is one hard line pressed against hers. And when she kisses him, she can taste his blood on her lips.

Author's Note This one shot is a birthday present for Threemagpies. I know how much she loves New Vegas and these two characters so I really wanted to write this moment for her. Happy Birthday Mate :) Love from Love