A/N: Well, I'm a total newb at writing fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and very much appreciated! The first couple of chapters are a little short, but I really wanted to get it out there and see if there was any interest in me continuing it.
And yes, the title does come from the John Legend song if you're wondering. Because in my opinion, if Charlie & Monroe ever actually manage to work through all their baggage, it's probably pretty close to how they'd feel about each other...at least my happy little shipper heart hopes so.
Charlie crouched down behind a tree with overgrown brush at its base. From here she could clearly see the camp and it's occupant. She had wondered how she could make it this close without attracting attention from him, but now it was obvious that he was in his own world, not paying the slightest bit of attention to his surroundings.
A knot tightened in her stomach as she reached for and readied her crossbow. A year of fighting against his militia and months of following him around the plains nation and now she finally had her chance. Part of her was amused that he would participate in his own execution by not having been more careful in securing his camp. She pulled her crossbow up and aimed it in his direction, just a flick of the trigger and General Monroe, the source of so much pain, loss and many sleepless nights would be dead. But for some reason she was hesitating.
Damn it Charlie, just pull the trigger, what are you waiting for? she thought as she continued to study her target. There was something that just didn't feel right to her. He by all rights should have noticed her presence by now and have reacted in protection of himself. Was that what she was waiting for? For him to fight back?
She took a step back, making it a point to rustle the leaves beneath her boots and snap a twig. She still received no reaction. What the hell is he doing? She glanced around taking in her surroundings once again. Monroe was sitting on a low, half rotted log on the other side of the fire from where she held her position. Whisky bottle in one hand, pistol in the other. He looked almost weak and vulnerable sitting there.
It wasn't until Charlie took the time to really look at his face and saw his crystal blue eyes flooded and his face streaked with lines from where the tears cleared away the dirt on his cheeks, that she considered that perhaps he did know that she was there but just didn't care. She suddenly felt startled by his appearance. She had seen that face before once, but only in her mind, imaging the scene when her Uncle Miles had told her the story of how he had found his best friend Bass ready to take his life after his parents and sisters were killed in a car accident.
The familiar ache of lost loved ones clenched at her chest. When she had heard the story, this was almost exactly as she had imagined it. She had even thought at the time that she understood why he would want to and maybe even why he had an unhealthy obsession with her uncle and an undying need to be in control of everything.
But it still didn't explain why he would be in that same condition once again. The General Monroe she had come to know, no longer had a heart, wasn't affected by the death and destruction around him, mostly at his orders.
Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice, partially muffled by the crackling fire in front of him.
"Charlotte, just do it." He paused and took a deep breath before adding a strained "please" as his flooded eyes released more tears.
Charlie's heart skipped a beat and she lowered her crossbow to her side. In that moment she knew she wouldn't be ending his life tonight. Whether it was out of rebellion because he had asked her to or because a part of could feel the pain in his words she wasn't really sure. But she slowly stood, walking out from behind the trees and brush and towards him. She stopped a few feet away.
"Why?" she asked, not being specific because really there were probably a thousand whys she wanted to ask him.
"Why what, Charlotte" he responded, refusing to look up at her.
"Why do you want me to kill you? You look about ready to do it yourself so why don't you just get it over with?" She tossed the crossbow onto the ground at her side, and crossed her arms over her chest, making it clear that she wouldn't be fulfilling his wish, at least for now.
He gruffed out a half chuckle "I'd do it myself if you weren't here, but I figure you've been following me long enough, you may as well be the one to do it. You deserve that chance after what I've done to you." He glanced up, locking eyes with her willing her to understand that he was being sincere.
Her steady breathing faltered slightly from the eye contact. So much pain she thought to herself as she stared back at him. She couldn't understand why she even cared, but there was just something that was pulling at her, wanting to understand why he felt like this. Maybe this is what Miles had meant when he had said she was unusual. That despite Monroe being the cause of her dad and Danny's deaths, she still felt the need to comfort him in some way.
"Why now Monroe?"
He didn't answer her, just picked up his hand holding the bottle and took another swig lowering his eyes back to the ground.
Charlie stood there for a few minutes staring at him, hoping he would cave and answer her. But he just remained silent. She slid her pack onto the ground in front of her, and crouched down on her heels untying her bedroll.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me, and you're not off-ing yourself until you do either. So you can just hand over the gun….and your knife. And we can talk about whether I'm going to kill you or you're going to do it yourself after you've given me an answer" She held out her hand towards him.
He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and smirked, handing her the gun then sliding down off the log so his back was propped against it, he reached and slid his knife from his boot and tossed it at the ground in front of her feet.
"Great now if you don't mind, I need some rest" she stood and laid out her bedroll a few feet away from him, sliding the knife and gun under the edge and laid down on top of it. She wasn't worried of the possibility of him attacking her in the middle of the night. Interestingly enough, ever since the night he had saved her in the Tower, a part of her knew that he wouldn't hurt her.
She laid, staring up at the sky picking out the constellations her father had taught her to find when she was just a little girl. Her eyes were getting heavy and just as she was about to give in to sleep he spoke, voice low as if he was hoping she couldn't hear.
"Because Charlotte, I...I have nothing. No family, Miles hates me, Philly is gone…..all those people that depended on me to protect them, and in the end I destroyed them. I was so stupid...so foolish. I walked Randall right in there."
Taking in his words she closed her eyes and slowly released the breath she had been holding. Of everything he had just said, only two words really stood out to her. No family she thought, letting the words sink in she felt as if they were tugging at a memory deep within her mind. She tried to relax and let it come to her. It wasn't long before the memory came to her playing like a movie.
It was Christmas, before the blackout and Uncle Miles had come to visit with his friend Bass. They were sitting on the couch, beers in hand flipping through channels while she colored on the table in front of them, listening to them talk.
"I just can't believe I have no family now, Christmas just doesn't feel the same anymore." Bass had said, before taking a long drink from his beer.
She looked up at him from her coloring book and saw that he was sad and looked like he was going to cry. Putting the crayon down she got up and walked over to him, climbed up onto his lap and leaned on his chest.
"Don't cry Bass, I'll be your family now, I promise."
He hugged her tight to him and said "Thank you Charlotte, that's the best Christmas present ever."
The memory quickly shifted to a more recent one. The day that her, Maggie and Aaron had found Miles at the hotel in Chicago. They had just fought off a group of militia that had come for Miles.
"Ya know I didn't ask you to come back" Miles said, wincing at the pain as Maggie sat perched behind him, stitching up the cut he received in the battle. Maggie spoke up first.
"Don't look at me, I wanted to let you rot"
"Why didn't you?" Miles countered
Charlie cut in "Because we're family."
The two memories kept repeating themselves over and over, keeping her from getting any real sleep. Suddenly her eyes shot open and she felt a tear fall over the side of her face. In that moment, she knew what she had to do.