Hello! Yes, its been a while since I posted anything, but with the end of Revolution, could I really stay away?
My aim has always been to stay true to the characters and the show, so up until now I was totally stingy on the Charloe action, giving them plenty of "moments" but not taking it too far out of the realms of possibility.
Well, all that is over and done with now! With the show ended and so many loose ends flapping in the wind, I'm going to take Charlie and Bass and do whatever I want with them, all under the guise of steering them to some kind of HEA.
Unfortunately, I am REALLY busy at the moment (which is why I haven't posted in so long) which means any chapters I update will be few and far between.
Anyway, like a lot of other fans, I hope Revolution gets picked up by another network, but the unfortunate reality may be that we've watched the last of Revolution on our screens. :( Either way, its time SOMETHING happened between Charlotte Matheson and Sebastian Monroe.
~x LizAna
PS, this starts directly after the end of 2x22.
Charlie paused and glanced up at the sky as thunder rumbled in the distance. It'd been warm and sunny earlier, but huge dark clouds had blown up a while ago, and now a storm was definitely on the horizon, the air thickening with quiet anticipation.
She pushed her crossbow back and pulled out a small canteen, taking a swift drink of water. She hadn't finished her patrol, but unless she wanted to get soaked, or trapped out in the storm, she probably needed to start heading back to camp.
Moving off through the thin forest, she hadn't gone more than a dozen steps when a shifting shadow in her peripheral vision stopped her cold. Heart picking up speed, she got hands on her crossbow and then crept forward, rounding a squat bush and coming up on a tall figure leaning against a tree.
"Don't tell me we've reverted back to the you-wanting-to-kill me stage of our relationship."
Charlie blew out a short breath and lowered her crossbow, before knocking free the loaded arrow. "Monroe, what are you doing out here?"
He pushed off from the tree, and held out the flask he had in his hand. "I could ask you the same question."
She shrugged one shoulder and accepted the drink, knocking back a quick mouthful of whatever gut-stripping liquor Monroe had gotten his hands on recently.
"I know Miles isn't all that interested in catching Ed Truman, but I'm pissed off that the weasel escaped this morning. Thought I'd take a bit of a trek out from the camp and see if I could get lucky."
Monroe nodded as he took the flask back and slipped it away into his leather jacket. "Good plan. That son of a bitch really needs a round or two between the eyes."
"Miles was still rounding up patriot soldiers when I left. I would have thought you'd be in the thick of it, taking as many of the bastards as you could."
Monroe glanced away from her, his expression closed off. Another rumble sounded above them, this one deeper and definitely closer.
"I was on my way to get Connor. I left him locked up in a pumping station after him and Neville tried to take the president off my hands last night. But then I realized I wasn't going to make it before the storm hit, and something tells me its going to be a big one. Didn't want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere to ride it out. Plus, I'm thinking no matter what I say to Connor, he's still going to be pissed, especially if he didn't find a way out of the station yet."
Wow, so apparently Monroe was feeling chatty today. She shifted over to lean on the tree, crossing her arms. "Why is Connor pissed at you? Is it something to do with getting the republic back? Did he finally realize his father is a power-hungry megalomaniac?"
Monroe gave a short, sharp laugh, though the sound lacked humor. "Gee, Charlie, you really don't mind telling it straight, do you?"
She nodded. "Just calling it like I see it."'
Monroe dragged a hand across his hair, glancing over his shoulder at another echo of thunder. "Connor thinks I picked Miles over him. What my son doesn't see is that I was doing it for the greater good."
"Is that like the greater good of mankind, or the greater good of Sebastian Monroe?" Because Monroe never did anything unless it would benefit him. And even though he'd turned up with the president when they'd needed him, and she wanted to believe he'd done it because in the heart he possibly had buried beneath all the cold cynicism and sharp calculating, he'd realized it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, past experience was trying to tell her he'd done it because some how, in the long run, it would work out better for him.
"I know you don't believe me, Charlie, that you've got no reason to trust me. But when I get the republic back, I want to do better this time. With Connor, hell, maybe even with Miles back by my side, things will be different."
She shook her head and glanced away. "You know Miles won't go for that."
At least she prayed he wouldn't. She'd meant what she'd told Miles, about him and her mom giving it a shot. And one thing was certain, her mom wouldn't stick around if Miles decided he was going to rejoin Monroe at the head of the republic.
"A few weeks ago I probably would have agreed with you, but after last night, I can see that Miles and I are starting to get back some of what we had."
The direction of their conversation had made unease start building within her, getting louder and more threatening like the thunder rumbling above them. Fat rain drops started plonking to the ground, and Monroe glanced up at the sky.
"Come on, we better start heading back before this weather really breaks."
She pushed upright from the tree and started back-tracking the way she'd come, Monroe keeping pace with her. The walk back to camp was probably a good half an hour, and as the rain started falling more steadily, and lightening arced in the sky above them, she realized they weren't going to make it before the storm really hit. They picked up the pace, falling into a jog. Icy gusts of wind had started cutting through the humidity, strong enough to scatter leaves and light debris in their path.
A blot of lightning came down somewhere close by, the thunder right on top of it shaking the earth beneath her feet. Monroe grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back against him.
"Charlie, we've got to get out of this storm. Come on." He grabbed her hand and she let him tug her along, as the rain started pounding down in earnest.
A structure loomed out of the surrounding gray, and Monroe pulled her into a run as they crossed the last few yards. He shoulder his way through the door of the old farmhouse, but getting to the other side didn't prove to provide much shelter. The entire back wall of the house was missing, and half the roof had collapsed in.
Monroe led her into what had probably been the den, which at least had three walls and most of the roof in tact.
"We'll have to wait out the worst of it here." He made his way over to the fireplace, and grabbed what was left of a chair, breaking it up into smaller pieces and setting it into the hearth. In a few moments, he had a fire going, casting a warmish glow, and a lot of smoke outward.
Charlie crouched down and held her hands out, shivering as water trickled out of her hair and down her spine. Her clothes were stuck to her, and every time the cold wind blustered through the cracks and holes of the house, shivers wracked her.
Monroe had collected wood from around the room and set it into a pile next to the hearth. He knelt down and looked over at her as he shrugged out of his jacket.
"You should get out of those wet clothes."
A quick, cynical laugh ambushed her. "Really?"
Monroe stared back at her, his expression totally serious. He hung his jacket on a rusted hook next to the fireplace and then started unbuttoning his shirt. "Yes, really, you want to get hypothermia?"
"Its not cold enough for either of us to get hypothermia, and I am not going to sit around here with you in my underwear."
Monroe peeled his wet shirt off and then hung it up with his jacket. "And are you an expert on hypothermia, you know when it is and isn't cold enough to start affecting your system? Fine with me, because I'm the one who'll have dry clothes when we head back to camp later."
She glared at him as he settled back against the wall, and then swore under her breath when a hard shiver ripped through her. At least he didn't seem inclined to take off his pants. They would have had a serious problem if he'd tried that.
She hunched in on herself as the shivering really set in, the temperature dropping quickly now that the initial storm front had blown through. The fire didn't seem to be putting out much warmth, and when her teeth started chattering, she realized that maybe Monroe had been right, damn him.
"Hell, Charlie, would you stop being so godamn stubborn?" Monroe shifted over and grabbed the collar of her jacket. Okay, maybe getting her clothes dry should be her first priority here. Her limbs were starting to ache from the constant shaking.
Monroe started tugging her jacket off, so she uncurled herself far enough to help him, though her arms and fingers were stiff, so he ended up doing most of the work. After that, he made short work of her shirt and singlet. Her bra was damp, but no way in hell was she taking that off.
Once her wet clothes were gone, and her skin started drying, she did actually feel a little better. Monroe stood and hung her clothes on another peg on the opposite side of the hearth, and then added some more wood to the fire before returning to where he'd been sitting.
"Sit closer to me, you'll be warmer." He nodded his head, motioning her over, but she glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"First you want me to get my clothes off, and now you want me to sit closer to you."
Something wicked glinted in his blue eyes as he stared at her. "What's your point?"
She swallowed, her throat too tight all of a sudden. No way was she taking that conversation any farther.
He leaned forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her off balance. "We spent all those weeks together, traveling to Willoughby. You trusted me then, so why not now?"
Then, she'd felt like she'd owed him after he'd saved her, and she'd realized they wouldn't win the fight against the patriots without him. Now… now, everything was different.
Yet, even just his hand around her upper arm was warming her up, and her traitorous body decided to go and give in. She shuffled over, and Monroe pulled her in between his legs, settling her back against his chest and then rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
"Your skin is like ice. Miles will kill me if you catch your death out here."
"Yeah, but Miles would also kill you if he saw you sitting here with your hands all over me." She shivered, but this time the quaking through her body had nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the way Monroe was warming her up.
"Then I guess this has to be our little secret," he murmured against her hair.
Oh yeah, someway, somehow, this was going to end in trouble.
She stared into the flickering flames in the hearth, concentrating on warming up and not letting herself think about the man sitting behind her. As the cold finally started melting away, she started lulling into relaxation, giving more of her weight to Monroe.
The strokes along her arms slowed, changed tempo, and then Monroe shifted slightly, the muscles of his chest flexing against her back. The hot sensation of his mouth on her shoulder jolted her like the bolts of lighting that had been crashing down earlier.
She stiffened, half pulling out of his arms and turning to look at him. Unfortunately, she couldn't escape him since he still had hold of her upper arms.
"What the hell are you doing?"
There was a depth and openness to his blue gaze as he stared at her, one she'd never seen before.
"What am I doing? That's the million dollar question, isn't it? Ever since Miles walked out and left me with the republic all those years ago, its like I've been walking around in the dark, with no clue and no direction. But, you're like a light, Charlotte. And when I look at you, I can see again."
Her heart had started pounding erratically against the inside of her chest, and Monroe tightened his hold on her arms.
"I don't deserve you, or anything good thing in this life for the things I've done. But I think if Miles can forgive me, and you can see past the monster that I became, then maybe all hope isn't lost for me."
"Monroe—"
"No." He shook his head. "Not Monroe."
She swallowed, breath catching as she comprehended his words.
"Bass." The name sounded strange rolling off her tongue, but there was no denying the power behind it, the feeling of rightness.
"Much better." Heat glinted in his eyes, his expression telling her she'd given him exactly what he wanted.
Before she could start telling him the million ways of just how wrong this was, how she couldn't, wouldn't do it, he yanked her forward, his hand gripping the back of her neck.
His mouth caught hers, and the sensation of it stunned her motionless for a long second. He pulled her in even closer, bringing her flush up against his chest, and when her palms landed on his warm, muscled flesh, she couldn't hold out any longer. Her body took over; her traitorous body that quite simple wanted Sebastian Monroe.