Author's Note: So the deal is this. My computer sort of died before I had the chance to really sink my teeth into this chapter. Before that, I took an unofficial break from writing because I had exams. Which would have been plain sailing, but due to reasons I'd rather not delve into here and now, I was pretty much failing college at the time (I was attending on average one class per week, if that). So that huge pull to pass all my courses (I did) ended up causing a leave of absence I hadn't foreseen at all, followed by some computer issues caused by some rather … odd items in the browser history, shall we say.

Phew. Anyway, I'm resurrecting this. It's come to me that it's in serious need to a rewrite, something that may follow in future, but we'll see. In the time before the aforementioned trouble happened, I was really agonizing over how to end this saga. But I'm feeling strangely nostalgic and need to write more, so here we are … I couldn't just leave this loose end here – it's been that way for far too long, and I haven no intentions of allowing this to continue.

It feels odd that I should be ending here when it feels like I'm starting something instead. But this is the end (for now), indeed. At least until next time.

Chapter 18 – Hit The Road

She was acting rationally. That was all. She still wasn't sure how she had come to the conclusion that Benny wanted to kill her, but she didn't consider it to be paranoia. It wouldn't be the first time he had tried it. And now, after witnessing her survival, he knew to be more careful than ever.

So this was how she came to pack all the belongings she thought that she might need out on the road, nothing unnecessary, nothing that might weigh her down, just everything she had learned to use to her advantage.

With everyone asleep, everything dead but Vegas awake, the Lucky 38 not yet ready to open, now was the only time that seemed to make sense to her. She couldn't think of anything else to do but run. Of course, where she was going to run to, she had no idea … this was what she had done too many times before, however, walking, nomadic, propelled only by curiosity of what the next town would hold. Of what she could gain. Spurred on by the idea that there might just be someone hot on her heels, someone looking for her. The fear that her past might just catch up to her always had been the greatest motivation for Lola, but the altercation between herself and Benny back in Goodsprings should have ended all of that.

Guilt, too, forced her to move on at a fast pace. Now, she was back to fear again.

Queen of New Vegas, Queen of Hearts, a protector and perhaps a whore, she didn't need to acknowledge any of these things. Nobody had to. The idea that she would be missed did not sit well with her because she simply could not bring herself to believe in it. The idea that there would be what felt like a nation wanting to know where she was seemed impossible. Denying it made it that much easier to believe. She had never been adored, after all, but her skills had been well appreciated and if nothing else, there were a few of her flings she considered might feel a certain sense of loss once she found herself in the Mojave once again.

Novac would be the first place she would stop. Lola had only planned this out because it was a place where nobody would ever think to look for her. Nobody would expect her to hide herself away in a small town with no drink, no gambling, no attractions. Nobody would expect her to 'rough it' as it were, but she would, indeed, be roughing it, most likely for quite some time, and really, the prospect of this didn't seem too terrible. She had learned to do it, after all. But for now, her sights were set on the long journey south she had ahead of her, hours of walking, of avoiding places she had learned were dangerous. Hours of traveling, of aching feet, of hunger pains. This, or death. Thinking of it in this way, somehow, made it seem okay. Not that bad.

Where once, she might have provided Benny with an explanation as to everything, this time, it seemed like too much of a risk. Always, there had been the idea there that neither one truly trusted the other, and she had always sensed it, but ignored it. Maybe, once, the idea that he could kill her in her sleep had caused a certain thrill. None of this was so now. She had most likely ruined any chance they might have had of reconciliation, or … she didn't know what, not really. Never love. This was an impossible emotion for both of them. But cooperation, a kind of partnership. For so long, he had thrilled and excited her.

Perhaps him being something of a conquest did. A challenge. She loved a challenge.

Oliver had been a challenge. The General, he had been one hell of a challenge. At the end of her rope, thinking she had no other solution to force the NCR into surrender while maintaining a civil relationship, she had used the one tactic that had never failed her.

And it had taken quite some time for her to win him over.

Some were easier than others, of course. But for some reason, for some warped reason she still couldn't quite come to terms with, Benny had been … special. Her attacker. Her would-be killer. The man who shot her in the skull and left her to die in a shallow grave, all for the sake of something that now seemed almost trivial … and yet she was still drawn to him. He was a man she should hate, and maybe this was why she had felt the need to punish him just one last time, a small, painful act of revenge. Even though she was positive that this wasn't it.

And then, there was the idea that he hadn't wanted to prolong her suffering like all the others had. Almost all the others had dragged it out and let her live, and here she was, still dealing with those attacks. By comparison, Benny's had been a relief. Sure, she had felt fear and disappointment, and a hunger, a desire to do more. But there he was with the gun, the pistol, Maria, about to get it over with. A shot. That was all. No tugging at her hair or clawing at her skin or kicking her like a sick dog. Just a shot.

"Thank you," The whisper seemed natural. But she couldn't stay. She didn't want the kind of release death could bring. It wasn't over for her, not yet.

"No need for you to thank me, pussycat." Oh.

Lola didn't turn right away, but once she finally managed to do it, she saw the pistol in his hand, the face of Maria glinting, glaring up at her, reflecting the moonlight.

Oh.

"Benny," Her voice trembled. She didn't even have time to remark how odd this was. She didn't even consider that this was the first time she had referred to him as Benny, at least to his face. But he wasn't holding the gun up to her head, not just yet, even though she thought he might have done this by now. Both of them still bathed in light from The Strip, barely out of Freeside. Barely out. He must have been following her for quite some time. "It's going to end how it started, huh?"

"Now what would make you think that, doll?" She couldn't understand the game he was playing. She couldn't understand why he was edging closer to her, Maria still at his side, still looking at her. Before she could even register what she was doing, she had whipped out the pistol at her side, nothing so fancy by any means, but it would get the job done quite nicely.

"Well, why wouldn't you?" He was going to kill her here, she was almost convinced of it. Why else would he be armed? Why else would be be staring at her with that look? Something like longing behind it, but above all, he was triumphant. Relieved. He was about to get what he had wanted from the start. "It's almost over now. I've given you your excuse to do it. But not if I have my way."

Her finger didn't squeeze the trigger. And yet, he had still not raised his gun. She was damn close to it, though, ready to kill if she had to. She wouldn't be …

"Doll, it's not over. Not by any stretch." She wouldn't be the one to die this time.

She was used up. Her existence was pointless to him, now. He didn't need her, but really, she didn't need him. Maybe he only stepped back a pace because he could smell the alcohol on her breath, the combined booze she had been downing. It was a wonder she had been able to get dressed, let alone make it out this far.

Not once had she considered self-sabotage. That at last, what she had endured had gotten the best of her. She couldn't let it do that.

"Then why do you want me dead?"

The last word, obscured by a sound that most residents of the Mojave, of Vegas and Freeside and Camp McCarran had become used to. It was impossible for Benny to hear the last word that Lola yelled at him, because the gunshot rang out instead, cruel and resounding and merciless. Taker of lives. After that sound, echoing back and forth from invisible walls, the way a shout would echo down a canyon, silence. Nothingness. The rustle of clothing, footsteps in dry ground, red earth and dirt, of a weapon being holstered, a pack being carried. After the sound, there was silence.

On the dry earth, blood.

While I'd like to say 'that's it. That's all folks. It's finished. Over. The End' ... it's not. It's not over by a long shot. But this part of Lola's saga is over, for the time being.

At the start of this project, my only goal was to write a F!Courier X Benny fic. Maybe it was my slight crush on Matthew Perry (brought about by watching the endless re-runs of Friends that were on TV at the time) or the character of Benny, but I had to do it. It was an urge I hadn't been gripped by for a very, very long time: the last fanfiction I wrote was at least six years ago, I'm sure.

But like characters do, Lola took on a life of her own more than I could ever have imagined, and Lola being Lola, had to have things go her way. and that's something I'm glad for - because writing (and rereading) this has been a discovery for me, as well. I didn't even know what was coming most of the time, or if I had an idea, it would change dramatically while I was writing, and maybe, just maybe, this was what led to me getting stuck when it came time to end it. Not just because it's difficult to say goodbye, but also because I had so many ideas for the finale, and none of them ever came to light. Lola wasn't satisfied.

Since my last update, and writing this chapter, a lot has changed for me. Maybe this was reflected here, or maybe it wasn't. I don't know. But one thing's for sure: those unreliable narrators sure are fun to write. ;)

I'm sure most everyone who has read this has no doubt moved on by now, but if any of you are still around: thank you. If anyone is only just reading this: thank you, too. I just hope this ride has been as enjoyable for you as it has for me. And thank you for reviewing; for giving me an idea of my direction, of my strength and weaknesses. Thank you for your time and encouragement.