#kinda... not really

The graveyard is silent, save for the faint whisper of the desert wind, and there, at the edge of it all, stands Benny, his silhouette sharp against the glow of New Vegas in the distance. Esme stops for a moment, her breath catching at the sight. He's so perfect—his sharp suit, his cocky stance, the way he carries himself like he owns the whole world. Her heart swells with affection. She can't wait to spend her future with him.

She hums a happy tune and twirls between the headstones, her heels scraping against the dry ground as she dances her way toward him. When she reaches him, she slips her arms around his waist and rests her chin on his shoulder. She sighs deeply, as if exhaling all her worries into the night. Together, they stand in silence, staring at the shimmering lights of the Strip.

“Can you believe it?” she whispers, her voice soft and full of wonder. “The two of us, Benny. Together. We’re going to be unstoppable.”

She imagines their future—her dazzling the crowds, him calling the shots. The cheers, the applause, the wealth, the power. They would own the town, heart and soul, a single pair ruling over the neon kingdom.

Benny doesn’t respond right away. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring and smoke curling into the air, before he flicks it to the ground and grinds it out under the toe of his shoe. Esme feels him shift in her arms, his chest expanding against her arms as he sighs deeply.

“Well, doll,” Benny says, his tone low and tinged with something she can’t quite place, “it was fun while it lasted.”

"… What do you mean, love?" Esme blinks, the words slicing through her dreamy haze. Her smile falters ever so slightly.

Benny pulls away to face her, his expression unreadable in the dark moonlight. She tilts her head, confused, until movement catches her eye. Two men step out from the shadows of the water tower, their faces cold, their eyes fixed on her. Esme’s heart flutters—not with excitement, but fear.

“Benny, dear…?” Her voice wavers as she glances nervously at the strangers, then back at him. She loops her arm through his, seeking comfort, fingers gripping the plaid fabric of his jacket. “Who are these… gentlemen?”

“Business associates, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost as if he regrets it. He gives her one of his trademark smiles, the kind that makes her heart skip a beat, but this time, there's something cold beneath the charm. “It’s time to cash out.”

Esme frowns, trying to piece together what he means. She doesn’t want to believe there was any malice in his words. Not from Benny—not from the man who’d swept her off her feet, who’d filled her quiet life in Goodsprings with the promise of something more…

"Will you get it over with?" One of the men cuts in impatiently, but Benny silences him with a simple raise of his hand.

"Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' 'em in the face," he says smoothly, "but I ain't a fink, dig?"

Kill… The word rings in Esme's ears, making her stomach twist in knots. She steps away from her husband, bewilderment and growing horror etching across her face. Kill… her? No—it can’t be! They just got married! She’s given him everything—her heart, her trust, her dreams!

But then Benny reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out the Platinum Chip. He studies its surface, gleaming in the moonlight, and Esme’s breath hitches. That chip—it was her gift to him. A promise to their union, to his grand ambitions. She’d handed it to him at the altar, dedicated to embarking on this journey together.

“Benny..?” Her voice cracks, her legs trembling as she stumbles back, her world suddenly crumbling beneath her feet. "But… I love you! I did this all for you! I'd do anything for you!"

"Love's a tricky thing, kitten," he shrugs, sliding the Platinum Chip back into his pocket, replacing it in his hand with his signature pistol. "Sometimes you gotta let it go to chase your dreams. My dream is sittin' pretty at the top of New Vegas, so that means I need you out of the picture. It's nothing personal."

“Nothing personal?” Her voice cracks, rising with desperation. She steps back again instinctively, the heel of her shoe sinking into loose earth. Her breath hitches as she glances back and sees it: a fresh grave yawning open behind her, shallow and hastily dug. Not even a proper resting place for his bride.

Her gaze snaps back to Benny's face, chest tightening as tears well in her eyes. Just hours ago, those same eyes staring back at her shone with affection as he’d held her close, promising her a future full of dreams. Now, they're impassive and hard.

"It's not you, toots, it's me," he says with a shrug, his tone light as if he were brushing off a bad deal. He levels Maria to her chest. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene."

“Wait!” she cries, but her words are drowned out by the deafening crack of a gunshot.

The impact hits her square in the chest. Searing pain explodes through her body as her white wedding dress blooms crimson, the vibrant red stark against the pale fabric. She gasps, her breath catching as her vision blurs. But before she can even process the pain, the second shot rings out, and the force of it drives her backward. Her legs buckle and she tumbles into the open grave, body landing with a dull thud against the cold earth and the world spinning as the edges of her vision darken.

Esme’s breaths come shallow and labored. She forces her eyes open, tears streaking trails down her cheeks as she stares out. The last thing she sees is Benny’s silhouette against the twinkling stars, turning away without a second glance.