That's What You Get For Waking Up In (New) Vegas

by whynotitsfun

Written for LJ Revo Redux AU Challenge. Total Canon divergence. Le Prompt: Bass/Charlie Married. It's their choice when they don't tell anyone. Hilarity ensues. Everyone has heard stories of people waking up in Vegas to find they've done something stupid the night before. It's almost tradition. The blackout has not ended this practice. Mwa-ha-ha! Rated M for Smut and F-Bombs

A/N: Okay this is mostly OOC and mixed in with a little bit of angst and a decent smattering of smut is a whole lot of crack and a little bit of fluff – especially at the end. I had WAY too much fun writing for this prompt. I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it (hence it's ridiculous length). Please let me know what you think! (I may write an epilogue or companion piece to this later).

Charlie woke up slowly, the sun's first rays shining in her eyes to add insult to injury to her pounding head. She burrowed her face into the pillow in a sorry attempt to ward off the morning. Pillow? Why did she have a pillow? She hadn't had that luxury since they'd fled the comfort of her grandfather's house in Willoughby. She suddenly became aware that she was not alone in the room; not alone in the bed.

Her eyes shot open in a mild panic. Light brown curls were mere inches from her face, sharing the pillow. She can't see the face, but she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly who those curls belonged to. She sat up slowly – partially to avoid waking her bedmate, but also because of the ache in her temples. As she sat up, the blankets pull away. She was left with two startling discoveries: The naked back in front of her was crisscrossed with recent scars (thus confirming what she already knew); And, she was completely naked.

Charlie craned her neck to look around the room. She saw clothing scattered about, and a mostly empty wine bottle on the weathered bedside table by "his" side of the bed. She briefly considered getting dressed and sneaking out unnoticed, but for the life of her, she couldn't quite place where they were.

Instead, Charlie pulled the sheet up to cover herself and smacked her companion rather rudely on the shoulder. "Hey, wake up." She was rewarded only with a groan. She smacked him again, harder. "Monroe! Get up!" A hand reached up and slapped hers away.

"Will you knock it off?" Finally, a response. Charlie stared daggers into his back for a few minutes before he suddenly sat up. "Ow," he whined as a hand came up, fingers rubbing at his temples. "What in the hell..?" He trailed off as his blurry eyes took in his surroundings.

Sebastian Monroe searched his mind in vain to come up with some recollection of where he was and how he got there. Nope. Nothing. He turned to face the source of his rude awakening. For a second he just sat there and stared at Charlie. She was sitting up in the bed, a sheet pulled up above her breasts. He caught himself feeling slightly disappointed that the sheet blocked him from seeing anything interesting. He shook his head, trying to erase that thought. Instead, he was rewarded with a cloudy memory of having nuzzled what was under that sheet. Banishing that memory (or product of an overactive imagination?) he looked around the room again. "Where the hell are we? What the hell happened last night? And why the hell are you naked?" The questions came out rapid fire.

Charlie shrugged as she slowly left the bed, taking the covers with her. She blushed at the sight of him. His body offered her a half salute. It wasn't like she'd never been with a man or seen morning wood before, but it was his morning wood. Noticing her reaction, Monroe grabbed the pillow to cover himself. "Oh, grow up," he muttered under his breath. Her reaction embarrassed him far more than his nudity actually did.

Steeling himself, Monroe stood up, baring his backside to her. Charlie couldn't help but appreciate the view. Monroe or not, he certainly was a fine specimen of the male gender. She also noticed a fairly new looking bite mark on his shoulder. And, upon a second look at his back, some of those red marks looked newer. Were those scratches she saw? A slight shaking of his shoulders and a quiet chuckle coming from him told Charlie that he knew exactly what she was doing. Flustered, she blushed again as she busied herself with the task of finding her clothes. At least dressed she would feel less vulnerable and would be better equipped to cope with untangling the mystery that was the previous night.

He followed her cue and started to scrounge for his own clothing. "So, uh," be began, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. "What exactly do you remember?"

Charlie thought about this for a second. "Drinking – a lot. I don't even know what we were drinking. It tasted awful."

He tossed her shirt over his head towards her. "Warclan Moonshine. Tastes like shit but always gets the job done. What else?"

She cautiously lowered the sheet long enough to pull on her underwear. As she did, she saw that she had bruises on her hips; fingertip shaped bruises. "You wandering off in a snit, and for some reason I decided it was a bright idea to follow you."

He now pulled on his own threadbare boxers, followed by his jeans. "First of all, I don't 'walk of in a snit', as you so delicately put it. Second of all, I don't even remember that so I guess you've got a one up on me there."

She giggled a little. "You mean I out drank the notorious Sebastian Monroe?"

He turned to face her, narrowing his eyes. "I don't think so. I just got started before you did. A long time before." Ok, so it hadn't been that much before, but the difference was that she was drinking to celebrate their victory while he was drinking to block out the fact that he'd just been fighting his son to the death. He pulled his undershirt over his head before putting on his other shirt. He deftly buttoned it before reaching for his boots.

They spent a few more minutes trying to locate her bra. They both spotted it at the same time. Reaching for it, both of their hands hovered over the garment. What they saw forced them both to stop moving. There, right in front of them were both of their left hands. And on the finger of both hands, a ring glistened in the sunlight that beamed through the window. She did not recognize either one, but the startled look on his face told her that Monroe definitely did.

Their eyes met and he held her gaze. "What the hell happened last night?" This time, the question was asked in unison. Charlie snatched up her bra and turned to finish getting dressed. A ring. More specifically, a wedding ring. On a finger. Her finger. A she picked up her shirt, she looked at the bauble, as if to make sure it was actually there. The diamond was not overly large but was beautiful. It was surrounded by a cluster of smaller diamonds. The bejeweled ring was fused to a simple gold band. While not exactly priceless, the ring would still be worth quite a bit. In the plains, rings like this could easily feed a family for a month if traded. "Where did they come from?" She asked him.

She waited several moments before he finally responded quietly. "Jasper, Indiana." Charlie sat down on the bed to put on her boots. She spared him a quizzical glance, obviously wanting a further explanation. "They belonged to my parents."

The answer, coupled by the sad look on his face hit Charlie like a ton of bricks. While she laced up her boots, she tried to collect herself. "Um, so why are we wearing them?"

As she asked the question, he had walked over to the window to take a look out. Grabbing both of their jackets, he headed towards the door. "Let's go downstairs and find out," he said gently.

"Downstairs?" She gulped as he ushered her out the door. They found themselves on a long hallway bordered by a railing on one side. Slowly they made their way down the hall to the staircase. They were apparently in a rather large old farmhouse that had been converted to an inn of sorts. The floor plan was open, with a stone fireplace on one side of the common area. In the center of the room was a large dining room table. It was simple and a bit worn, but despite that it was obviously cared for lovingly. The room was cozy – welcoming almost.

They were greeted with the aroma of food. And was that coffee they smelled? A matronly looking woman stepped out of the adjoining room and looked at them with a warm smile. "You're up rather early for newlyweds," She said with a smile as she bustled about the room. Setting a stack of dishes down on the table, she went to tend to the fire.

Charlie opened her mouth to correct the woman, but the look on Monroe's face silenced her. He leaned over to her, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered low, "Play along until we figure out where we are and what we're doing here." A warm shiver ran down Charlie's spine as his breath tickled the back of her ear. To the outside observer, his gesture was tender. The illusion was supported by the blush appeared as she realized the arousal that whisper had caused. Damn him, she thought. He had been making her blush constantly this morning. The look on his face confirmed that he was enjoying that reaction from her.

The woman giggled when she noticed, causing Charlie to wish that the floor would swallow her up in that moment. "Father Rodriguez will be along for breakfast shortly. He always comes on Saturdays. I'll set everything out when he arrives. Would you like some coffee while you wait?"

Monroe indicated that he would very much love some coffee at that moment. Anything to try to clear his head. Plus, it had been so long since he'd had a good cup of coffee, he had almost forgotten what it tasted like. He held the cup gratefully, savoring the aroma and flavor. He had no idea where they would have gotten coffee from, but at that moment he couldn't care less.

It wasn't long before an elderly Hispanic man dressed in the simple robes of a priest joined them. As breakfast progressed, they were able to piece together the gist of what had happened the night before. They were in a small settlement about five miles west of New Vegas. He remembered its existence now. It had once been a small farming town. Now, it served as a mission of sorts, aimed at trying to save the lost souls of that "den of iniquity" as the innkeeper had put it.

Apparently, he and Charlie had shown up quite late and had been quite insistent that they be married immediately, despite the hour. Pleased that someone was making an honest woman out of one of the new Sin City's denizens (It was obvious that it was assumed Charlie was a prostitute. She'd been about to protest that fact until a look from Monroe told her to keep her mouth shut), One of the laity had roused the good father. After partaking in mass, vows and rings had been exchanged. With the priest's blessing and a bottle of wine from California as a gift, they'd been sent up to their so-called honeymoon suite at the inn - all Compliments of the Church.

As the priest handed them a handwritten marriage certificate, several things dawned on Monroe. First of all, the man was a real priest. He had even been assigned to the parish that once had existed in the area. The small cathedral from before the blackout still stood and had even been the venue for their wedding. Second of all, they had used their real names. There before him, he saw his own bold scrawl – Sebastian William Monroe, and in chicken scratch he could barely make it out – Charlotte Marie Matheson Monroe. Third of all, Miles was going to kill him.

He had hastily shoved the certificate in his pocket, hoping the priest hadn't connected his name with his past. Unfortunately, the man indicated that he had. Apparently, prior to mass Monroe had participated in a quite lengthy confession. The priest took this opportunity to tell them that the secret of their presence here was safe with him. "I take the sacrament of confession very seriously. God wills that I hold all in confidence."

I confessed? This in and of itself shocked Monroe. It had probably been twenty years since he'd participated in that old ritual. All of this led Monroe to his next realization. He had been raised Catholic. He was also very aware Charlie had at least been baptized as such. He remembered the baptismal announcement Miles had received from Ben and Rachel while they were still stationed in Iraq. Granted, she'd probably never had a first communion or anything like that because of the blackout, but they'd still had mass, confessed, the whole nine yards. This meant that in the eyes of the Catholic Church (such as it was now), he and Charlotte Matheson were indeed truly lawful husband and wife. Yep, Miles is so going to kill me.

Later, as they slowly made their way back to Duncan's camp, Monroe took the time to explain exactly that to Charlie. It had been a long time before last night since he'd taken mass. The last time he'd even stepped foot into a church was the day he'd buried his parents and sisters. And, truth told he wasn't even sure he believed in any higher power these days, let alone the one he'd been nudged at from birth by his parents. But despite the fact that he'd never even been what one would call a "good Catholic" (even before the blackout), his upbringing made it hard to just set this aside.

The institution of marriage was complicated in the post blackout world. Because so many spouses had been separated when the power went out, never to find each other again. The rule of tended to be if you didn't see your spouse for a year or two, it was safe to assume they were probably dead. In the post blackout world marriages were mostly just a matter of mutual agreement and little more. Maybe you had a celebration when you "got married," or maybe she just started using your last name, and that was that. Divorce was a matter of simply walking away.

The clergy were few and far between. Most had walked away from their churches in favor of survival. If organized institutions reformed tomorrow, most would not qualify to minister. They'd joined the kill or be killed world that existed when the power went out. Most of the ones that hadn't had been killed for any supplies they may have in the first few years after the power went out. There were still a few scattered churches, and the Catholic Church had survived better than most. A few priests even roamed the plains and former Monroe Republic and Georgia Federation.

What made their "wedding" more ironic was that the little piece of paper he held in his pocket did make it one that would be recognized throughout the different remaining republics. The Church still had some sway, even though contact with the Vatican had been limited (When Georgia had started trading with England and France, a few missives from the Pope had arrived and slowly the word had spread). The only reason he was even aware of any of this was because of the lone priest that had taken up residence and resumed services in Philly before he abandoned his calling and defected to the rebels.

Despite this, Charlie's solution still was just to pretend it never happened – destroy all evidence and move on. After all, even if they were married in the eyes of the church (and proof of their marriage just might make its way to the Bishop of the Plains Nation in Topeka), it's not like there was a penalty to ignoring it. It's not like they'd be arrested for polygamy if one of them got married again later in life.

Having little choice in the matter, he'd agreed to her terms. But he still kept the marriage certificate that the good father had given him. And, when she tried to return the ring, he'd told her to keep it. The chain that he'd use to keep the rings safely around his neck was now missing. He reasoned that he'd only lose it at some point in their constant travels and battles. He had not planned on marrying, well ever, so he had no use for it. "I don't even know why I've kept it all these years," he'd told her. "It's valuable. If things go bad and you have to make a break for it, what you'll get for it in trade might save your life."

Always ready to argue with him, and uncomfortable over the idea of keeping his mother's wedding band she'd countered, "Wouldn't you need it in the same circumstances?"

He'd looked at her so stoically. "Charlie, if things go that far south, I probably won't be alive for it to be an issue." He'd stuffed his father's ring into his pocket until they returned to Duncan's camp. Finding his pack, he had honestly tried to find a new place to store the ring safely (really, he told himself), to no avail. Instead he dug out a pair of gloves. He'd cut the fingers out to allow for a better grip with his sword. When no one was looking, he slipped the ring back on his finger and put on the gloves. Although he could feel the ring's presence, it was now concealed from view. Better than losing it, he'd argued to himself.

When their absence had been questioned, Monroe let Charlie's lame excuse about separately passing out and running into each other come morning suffice. Connor looked suspicious, but if he really thought that something had happened the night before between his father and current fling, he said nothing.

Shortly after they'd returned to Duncan's camp, they packed up and headed out for Willoughby with Charlie's new fan club in tow. It would take them a little less than a week to get back to their safe house. The first few days were torture for the both of them. Walking gave him plenty of time to search his mind for the missing pieces of that night, and he slowly began to recall more and more of what happened.

He remembered being pissed at Connor for not respecting his request to stay away from her and hurt by the fact that despite their history, Duncan had been ready to let him rot before Charlie had saved her life. So drunk and feeling a little sorry for himself he'd stalked off. Most of his little walk had been hazy, but he remembered her following him and confronting him. He'd confessed his jealousy at her choice of bedfellows, and the next thing he knew they had stumbled upon the mission settlement. He'd asked her on a whim, and although his thought process at the time was hazy, he did remember deciding that he'd either have to claim her or kill her because this whole thing with Connor would be the death of him. He had no idea why she'd said yes, but they had indeed gone through with it.

He didn't remember confessing but he did remember putting the ring on her finger, and how it had felt when he'd done so. Too bad he had very little recollection of what had followed. His memory of the actual getting married part was one of the reasons he was so conflicted about it now. She wanted to be released from their hasty marriage – so be it. He would let her go. It wasn't fair to hold her to something that she'd done while too drunk to know better. Not to mention that now sober, he was once again confused and unsure of what he felt for her anyway. But he did know that if she turned to him later and said she wanted him, he'd keep the promises they'd made that night. He also knew that he'd never "remarry". Even if she walked away tomorrow and he never saw Charlie again, they were still married and being a product of the old world, the thought of polygamy was simply icky.

By that afternoon, Charlie's nerves were raw. Connor kept hinting at a repeat performance and Monroe's proximity was driving her to distraction. By now, fleeting memories of the other night had slowly began to pop up for her as well. She had a vague recollection of their "wedding" and little flashes of what had followed afterwards. It was still a bit hazy, and she still couldn't remember exactly why they'd decided to go through with it in the first place. She was sure that Monroe was starting to remember more as well. He kept watching her when he thought no one would notice, and he was getting more surely by the hour.

When they stopped for a short break, Connor approached her again. Desperate to do something to get Monroe and what had happened out of her mind, she finally relented. While the others were busy getting a quick meal, she slipped away after him. Despite her hopes that a quickie would distract her, Charlie soon found that was not the case. Connor had her pressed up against a tree and was tracing her neck with soft kisses. She literally had to bite her tongue to stop herself from moaning the wrong name (the way wrong name). Abruptly, she pushed him away, stammering that she didn't want to continue their fling. She ran as fast as she could back to camp.

When Monroe saw her return, her face was flushed (from running, of course). His mood thus got blacker. He'd assumed she'd just gotten laid, and to say it pissed him off would be putting it lightly. Technically speaking, she was now his wife, and she was sneaking off to bang his son. Later, he said as much to her, among other nasty things that he would later regret.

That evening, they stopped to camp for the night near a little spring. As soon as everyone started setting up, he stalked off to the water to refill his canteen and rinse the grime from the road off of him. He regretted his comments to her about sleeping with Connor, but there was no way in hell he was going to apologize. He knew he had no really hold over her, but figured it was common courtesy to wait at least a week before banging your (kind of) husband's son. "

As he started to put his undershirt back on, he felt more than heard someone approach. Quickly he pulled the shirt over his head and drew his pistol, pointing it in the direction of the intruder. "Dammit, Charlie. Call out next time. I could have shot you," he said, clearly exasperated as he set the pistol down next to his things.

Wordlessly, she walked over to the edge of the spring and knelt down to fill her own canteen. She knew exactly why he was mad. As she stood, she sighed deeply before speaking. "I didn't, you know." She waited for him to turn and acknowledge her before she continued. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I was going to, but in the end, I didn't – couldn't."

He just stared at her, partially relieved; partially annoyed at himself for feeling so relieved. Charlie approached him slowly, stopping a few feet away. He clenched his hands into fists at his side, determined not to do what he damn well knew he was about to do anyway. Quickly, he reached out and pulled her to him, capturing her mouth before she had a chance to protest. Thrusting his tongue in her mouth, he tasted her, moaning as she overcame her shock and kissed him back. Charlie didn't even put up a fight as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him everything she had.

Monroe ran one hand through her hair as he grabbed her bottom with the other, pulling her closer. As he did, he felt something in the back pocket of her jeans. He slid his hand inside and pulled out his mother's ring. He broke away from her for a second and grabbed her left hand. Their eyes locked as he slide the ring back on her finger. "For right now, you're mine," he growled as he pulled her back to him and kissed her possessively.

He led her to where his jacket lay near the edge of the spring and slowly laid her down on top of it. She shrugged out of her own jacket and he balled it up, putting it under her head like a pillow. He joined her now, settling himself between her legs. Charlie grabbed his head in both of her hands and pulled him to her, offering her lips once more. His hands pulled up the hem of her shirt and their mouths separated long enough for him to yank it over her head. She watched as his hands splayed over her breasts and down her stomach. She noticed the glint of gold on his finger in the moonlight. It should have annoyed her that he was still wearing the ring, but instead she found it almost endearing. She arched her back and found his mouth again as he reached under her and unclasped her bra, freeing her bare breasts to his touch.

His mouth slide down the side of her neck erotically and down towards her breasts. He took one hard nipple in his mouth, sucking gently as she let out a quiet moan. Desperate to fell his skin on her own, Charlie tore at his shirt. As soon as he was rid of it, she kissed him again, this time thrusting her own tongue into his mouth.

The feel of skin on skin was intoxicating. She ran her hands slowly down his sides to his hips, her fingers just grazing under the waistband of his jeans. She could feel his muscles flex as she touched him. This reaction and the way he groaned showed her how much he was affected by her. It made her feel powerful.

Although much of their night in bed together had been a blur, he found that she still knew instinctively just how to touch him to drive him crazy. If the moans coming from her were of any indication, apparently a part of him remembered that night better as well. They both kicked at their boots and tore at each other's jeans, desperate to remove those last physical obstacles that separated them. Monroe peeled Charlie's jeans from her, all but tearing the panties beneath away as she shoved his own jeans down and took his erection in her hand. Monroe let out a low moan as she stroked him gently. Cupping her face with his hands he plunged his tongue in as he centered himself over her, stopping with the tip of him just touching her entrance. Charlie wrapped her legs around his waist in anticipation, opening herself for him.

He held perfectly still, breaking his mouth away from hers and looked down at her. Charlie's eyes were half closed and her face was flushed now with arousal. She was whimpering, her hands and feet both trying to push him down towards her. She was desperate to feel him inside her. But he was too strong and still managed to hold himself back. "Charlie…" She bucked her hips again, trying to ease the ache inside her, but still he denied her. "Charlie, look at me."

Slowly, her eyes came into focus to find his own blue gaze locked on her. "You need to be sure. We do this, there's no going back. Not for me."

For a second, she processed what he was saying to her. She knew that if they went further, he would expect something out of her in the long run. Her expression softened as Charlie grabbed the sides of his face and pulled his mouth to hers again. "Yes," she moaned against his lips. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Monroe thrust his hips forward and entered her.

They both gasped at the feel of their bodies connecting. A few more heated memories of their "wedding night" came flooding back to them both as their bodies joined, serving to jog their memories. His control was stretched to the limit from the very first thrust. Charlie held him to her, one hand pressed on his back, nails digging into the scars there. The pain barely registered with him. Her other hand found his and their fingers entwined. He gripped her hip with his other hand, digging his fingers in as he squeezed her there with each thrust.

Suddenly, they rolled and Monroe found himself beneath her. She released his hand and stroked his chest as she sat up. He gripped both of her hips now as he helped to lift her as she rode him, biting her lower lip seductively as she tried to stop herself from calling out and attracting attention to them. As she drew closer to exploding, she shifted. She now lay on top of him, her breasts pressing on his hard chest as their lips met. Monroe wrapped his arms round her, holding her tight as they both lost themselves. His hips rose to meet her as she slid down on him one last time before shattering. "Sebastian!" She cried against his mouth as she clamped down.

Her having used his actual name as she came proved his own undoing. "Charlotte, my Charlotte," he groaned right before he emptied himself into her. Exhausted, they laid there panting, still joined as one. She buried her face into his neck as he lazily ran his hands up and down her back. He could tell the moment she started to doze off, and he had to fight the urge to sleep himself. But, they'd been gone a long time and Monroe knew someone was bound to come looking for them sooner or later. He could give a damn less what Connor or the mercenaries thought about them, but he knew being discovered would upset her. Also, until they'd decided how to handle this situation they'd found themselves in, he was not willing to share it with anyone.

Gently, he roused her. Charlie raised her head and looked at him sleepily. "Come on, we've got to go back," he said as he kissed her gently. Charlie rolled off of him and slowly started to pull on her clothes. She hadn't intended for this to happen. She had recalled enough to know that they'd had a true wedding night at the inn. But before, enough of it had been blank that she'd been able to tell herself that it wasn't a big deal. Now with those memories having slowly surfaced and them both being in full control this second time around, things were more complicated. And, she had no idea what to do about it, especially now after he'd told her there'd be no going back – and she'd technically agreed.

Fully dressed, they stared at each other for several minutes, at a loss, neither knowing what to say. He'd put his gloves back on, concealing the ring he still wore. Not at least she knew why she'd missed him wearing it before. He held out her jacket so she could put it on, when she turned back around he gently took her by the upper arms and pressed one last soft kiss on her lips. "Go back first. I'm going to do a perimeter check. I'll be along shortly."

Charlie nodded and slowly made her way back to the others. When she'd followed him earlier, she'd gone a different direction and then had doubled back out of sight. She followed her original path. With any luck, no one would know she'd been with him. She'd simply told them she'd wanted some privacy. She put the diamond ring back in her pocket as she walked, as if removing it could erase what they'd just done. She didn't know what unsettled her more – the fact that they'd must made love (fucking was simply too harsh of a word for what had just happened), or the fact that she didn't regret it.

When she returned to the others, her men already had a fire going, and Connor was sitting with them, joking about one thing or another. "What?" she snapped as she noticed several sets of eyes following her.

"Nothing at all, boss," her man Vincent replied. In her absence, he'd taken it upon himself to go hunting. He'd almost stumbled right on top of them, so he knew damn good and well where she'd just spent the past two hours. But, if she wanted to bang Duncan's former lover, that was her business. He was here to take orders, protect her and hopefully kill a few patriots. Fortunately for their group, after his unintentional voyeurism, He'd managed to down a small doe, which was roasting quite nicely above their fire. No one would go hungry tonight.

After assuring himself that the perimeter around their camp was safe, Monroe made his way back to camp. He was confident that enough time had passed since her return that no one would suspect they'd been together. He sat down next to Connor and helped himself to some venison. "No sign of patriots or clans anywhere near here. We'll still want to watch, but we should be okay for the night," he said casually.

Much later, they laid in their bedrolls. One of her merry men (as Monroe had taken to calling them in his head) had taken watch. He watched Charlie toss and turn in her bedroll, trying to get comfortable. She turned his way and they locked eyes. In the light of the fire, he could read the frustration on her face. They simply stared at each other while the others slept and the mercenary kept watch over them all. He lost track of how long they laid that way before exhaustion finally overtook him and he fell asleep.

The rest of their journey home was uneventful. Conflicted, Charlie avoided Monroe as much as possible and surrounded herself with her men. He was content to allow her this time to figure out what she wanted, as long as she didn't go sneaking off with Connor again. At first his son was a little put out, but he seemed to recover quickly. To him, Charlie had been a pretty distraction. He hadn't truly been attached. Not when he knew the plans he'd made with his father would only serve to anger her, once she found out.

Those plans weighed heavily on Monroe now. He did still want to get the Republic back. But, Charlie was a factor he had not counted on. On one hand, it was completely possible that when she found out, she'd kill him. On the other hand, with her by his side, he'd be more likely to succeed. First of all, there was a reason that pretty much every president in U.S. history had been married (he thought that there may have been a widower or two in there, not that it mattered). People trusted a family man. And, married to her, people would trust him more. And not just because he was married. There was something about her that just seemed to draw people to her. If she was willing to give him a chance and stand by his side, she may very well be the balance he needed to keep him from getting out of hand again. Maybe with her influence, things could be better this time.

Then again, he wondered if he had her, truly had her if he would want it all back at all. In her was a chance for a normal life. Well, as normal as one could be had for one such as himself. It was a lot to think about as they slowly made their way back to Willoughby. They were only a few hours away from the safe house when they heard the sound of someone approaching. Without a word, they all drew their weapons and stood at ready. They were all mildly surprised when Miles came around the corner, followed by Rachel.

After a brief greeting and explanation about the five men with them, they began to head towards a new safe house. Tom Neville and his son Jason had compromised the last one. They would now call an old mill home. As they walked, Miles kept looking back at Monroe. "Problem?" he finally snapped, tired of the strange looks his former best friend kept giving him.

"Why do you look guilty about something? What did you do, and how much is it going to piss me off?" Miles asked. He'd known Monroe for most of his life. He could practically taste the guilt coming off of him, strong as it was.

For a second, Monroe swore that someone had told Miles. It was impossible of course, but the way he just knew he'd done something that would piss him off was creepy. "Wow, and people called me paranoid. Nothing lately. Give me time, and I'll do something I'm sure." Monroe was sure he didn't sound very convincing, but let Miles prove otherwise.

Their new safe house was an old historic mill. It was historic only in that the faded plaque on the side of the building told them so. Attached to the waterwheel was the millhouse. The old stones used to grind wheat were gone, and the wheel no longer turned. The miller's house had partially collapsed, so was of no use to them. But, the millhouse did provide some shelter and a place to stash their gear and bedrolls during the day, even though it did not allow for privacy.

After the first few days at the mill, their group slowly started getting comfortable around each other again. However, Gene kept telling Rachel there was something different about Charlie. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was just off. She seemed a little more jumpy than usual, he supposed. After he and Rachel had both questioned her, they gave up and left her to her own devices.

Basically, they were all in a holding pattern. With Tom and Jason nosing around the area, they were trying to stay incognito. At least the river the mill sat on provided a constant supply of food and water. Miles had been leaving daily to keep an eye on the patriots. The camp that they were building was not yet fully operational, but even with the men that Duncan had gifted to Charlie, their numbers were too small to do anything about it. Their goal now was to remain undetected while they figured out what the Patriots were up to.

With Monroe back, Miles started taking forcing him to take turns going on recon missions. At first he found it odd that Charlie seemed a bit nervous when Monroe was gone, only to be relieved later when he returned. He'd even asked her about it. "Every time he goes out there we risk him trying to do something. The man doesn't know the definition of lying low. Every time he comes back, we know he didn't draw attention to himself." She felt the excuse was lame, but Miles did seem to buy it.

On their fourth day back, Monroe decided to scout up the river a bit to see what was around. Miles was doing recon that day, and he was decidedly bored. As he headed north out of camp, Charlie noticed his departure. She grabbed her crossbow, giving Rachel an excuse of being sick of fish and wanting real meat. Being careful to not be seen, she quickly started to follow Monroe. Without even realizing it she began to finger the ring that she now wore around a strap of leather around her neck. As she walked, she untied the strap and pulled it free. Without another thought, she placed the ring on her finger. Almost as soon as she did this, he stepped out of the woods right in front of her.

He shook his head at her in exasperation. "You are the loudest tracker and hunter I have ever met. How do you ever manage to catch anything?"

She approached him slowly. Placing her hands on his chest, she stood on her toes and placed a light peck on his lips. "Shut up," was all she told him as she curled into his embrace. She had spent the past week fighting and resisting her attraction to him. That night by the spring he'd told her that if they went any further there'd be no going back. She'd been trying to fight it, but she knew he was right. She'd craved not only him, but his company as well. With everything that had happened between Monroe and her family in the past, she had been in constant conflict trying to find a way to reconcile their past so she could even consider a future.

He led her away from the road and into the trees where they would not be seen. He pushed her up against a tree as they kissed and pulled their clothing aside. Off came one of her boots and he yanked her jeans down, freeing one leg completely. He reached down and began to stroke her center with his long fingers, finding her already wet and wanting. She bit his bottom lip as she began to undo his belt and zipper. His erection jutted forth from the opening in his pants. He groaned as she ran her hand up and down his length. Unable to wait any longer, he lifted her up, bracing her back against the tree. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her swiftly. Moaning and panting, their fevered pace quickly brought them closer to the edge. Charlie buried her face in his neck, calling his name as her body contracted around him. With a growl, he soon followed suit, impaling her one last time as he came inside her.

They slowly came back down to earth. He pulled out of her and set her down, leaning in to kiss her as he pulled his jeans back up. He leaned up against the tree and appreciated the view of her as she righted her own clothes, almost falling as she tried to put her boot on while standing on one foot. Laughing he quickly reached out to steady her. She rolled her eyes, but accepted his assistance anyway. "So what were you doing out here?" She asked finally.

He held his hand out to her, she took it and hand in hand they picked their way through the trees. "I got bored sitting around camp watching you pretend to ignore me so I decided to take a look around. What are you doing out here, Charlie?"

She considered this for a moment. She honestly didn't know why she'd decided to follow him. "Hunting?" she finally offered with a shrug. He stopped for a second to look at her with a raised brow. Obviously he didn't buy that for a second. He turned back around and they resumed walking through the woods. They didn't go much further before they were stopped by a steep slope. At the bottom was a bend in the river. On one side, there was a small outcropping of rocks. Curious they picked their way down the slope to the water's edge. Making their way through the rocks, they found a small cave, just high enough for them to sit upright. A few empty beer bottles, long since abandoned, suggested that some of the local kids used to party here at some point.

Knowing she should be getting back, they did not stay long before he suggested she do some actual hunting so her absence wouldn't raise suspicion. He held her to him for just a few minutes longer, kissing her one last time. "Meet me here tomorrow?" he whispered against her lips before letting her go. Nodding, she turned back and headed up the slope with her crossbow. She'd did manage to shoot a few rabbits before it started getting dark. By the time she returned to the mill, he was already back. Before anyone noticed, she slipped the ring off of her finger guiltily.

It was one thing to escape for a few hours, pretend that she was okay with the prospect of being married to the man that was supposed to be her greatest enemy. And when he touched her, thoughts of their past seemed to disappear. But now, around her family, she once again felt pressured to remove all traces of that foolish night in New Vegas. But she did meet him the next day.

Their relationship slowly progressed with stolen moments and hidden hours. She met him as often as she could, always by the bend in the river. Monroe slowly became addicted to her presence. He began looking for excuses to get away, knowing she'd follow soon after. And, with the Patriot activity around them being low, they seemed to have endless opportunities to meet. With an exception for a few skirmishes here and there to claim an odd supply wagon, they kept a fairly low profile.

The more times Monroe escaped their world with Charlie, the more he wanted to remain there. He knew he was getting attached. But, every time right before she headed back to the mill, she'd take her ring off and he could see her retreating from him, always saying that it didn't change anything. Just a piece of paper they'd signed while they were too drunk to know better. And, by the time they'd both get back, she was cold around him. But then she'd show up in a day or two, ring on her finger, eager for his touch.

A few weeks had gone by when Miles approached him. He was outside splitting wood for a fire so Rachel and Gene could cook whatever game Charlie had caught earlier that day after their most recent tryst. As he set down the axe to take a drink from his canteen, Miles came up and sucker punched him in the jaw. He knows, was all he could think. Here it comes, he'd figured out about him and Charlie.

"You really are a son of a bitch, Bass." Miles said as Monroe got to his feet. "Did you really think you and junior were going to form your little kingdom behind our backs? That we wouldn't figure it out?"

Monroe had to turn away to hide his relief. It was just that. He could deal with Miles knowing about that. He couldn't deal with him learning about him and Charlie. Not yet. "Yeah, about that…"

Miles and Monroe railed at each other for a while. In the end, Monroe just walked away. He'd try to get it all back after the patriots were gone, and Miles would try to stop him. That was the only resolution they could come to. After the confrontation with Miles, Monroe knew it was only a matter of time before he and Charlie had one as well. Every day, he went to the bend in the river and waited around for her, hoping to just get it over with. Finally, on the third day she appeared. He had been about to give up for the day and head back when he saw her practically running down the slope.

Before he could say a word she walked up and shoved him. The girl could fight, but a shoving match required weight, which simply was not on her side. When she didn't move him, she threw a punch instead. He knew she was pissed but he wasn't going to just stand there and let her pummel him either. So he let her rail, blocking each punch she threw. "Of. All. The. Stupid. Selfish. Idiotic." Each word was accented by another attempt to hit him. "What the hell were you thinking?" She said, throwing another punch.

Tired of this game, Monroe grabbed her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides. As she struggled, he lifted her off the ground a few inches. This only resulted in her kicking her feet furiously. "Will you calm down?" He said, starting to get irritated.

Charlie's struggles ceased and he slowly released her. Her chest heaved. She whipped around to face him. "After everything that you did, after everything we've done. How can you do this? How could you want it back? To be that guy again?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have told you before…" He trailed off, not knowing what exactly to call their situation. He turned away slightly and drug a hand over his face, trying to collect his thoughts. He'd thought he'd been prepared for this confrontation, but he wasn't. Seeing her, everything he'd meant to say just disappeared from his mind.

Charlie stared him down with unshed tears in her eyes. "Do you really want to bring it back? After what it did to you? After what you did to all of us because of it?"

"No. Yes. Fuck, I don't know." And truthfully, he didn't. What they had done in that church had changed things. "I don't know what I want anymore. But I made a promise to Connor to get him out of Mexico. I back out now, and I'll lose him. He's the only family I've got." He added that last part bitterly.

Those words slapped her. "Is that what you think?" She started to turn away.

It was his turn to feel indignation. "What else have I got, Charlie? You? Sure, you follow me out here every couple of days, and for a few hours maybe you're mine. But after, you're always so careful to remind me that it means nothing.

She knew where he was headed, but she wasn't so sure she was ready to have that conversation yet. "You have no right to hold it against me. I never promised anything."

He ran a hand through his hair, a clear sign that he was agitated. "You remember what I told you that night by the spring? I told you there'd be no going back for me."

It was all she could do to not let those tears fall. "I never said I reciprocated."

Her reply had him seeing red. He was shouting now, having finally had enough. "Then why the fuck do you always wear your ring?"

In truth, Charlie had no answer for him. She wore it when she came to him because deep down she needed to. She'd never allowed herself to analyze it further. "What do you want from me?" She was shouting right back.

He took a step toward her. "You Charlie. Just you. We really did get married – Real names, real priest."

Charlie shook her head, still trying to deny everything. "I don't even remember."

Had they been having this conversation a few weeks ago, he would have given her the benefit of the doubt. But by now both of them remembered enough of that night for him to no better. "That's bullshit and you know it."

She didn't bother denying it again. She knew he saw right through her. "So what, I'm supposed to be your little wife – first lady to your half assed little nation and spend the rest of my lie watching you go crazy again?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "It wouldn't be like before. Not if you're with me. And it wouldn't be forever. Just a few years until things get settled. After that, I'd step down. Give it to Connor, hold an election, fake our deaths. Whatever. I've got to see this through. Don't you see? After everything I did, all the people I've killed, it was all for nothing. If we defeat the Patriots, something has to fill that void. There has to be some order, some type of government. Otherwise, things will go back to how they were right after the blackout – people killing their neighbors for a slice of bread. If I can get it back, maybe I can make it right this time."

She shook her head again and backed away. "You can't ask that of me, of my family. Not after everything you did."

He stared at her and realized there was no getting over the past. If it hadn't been for his plans with Connor, they might have had a chance, but not now. "You're right," he said sadly. "I'm sorry – for all of it. It's too much to ask of you." Defeated, he walked away and climbed up the slope. She waited until he was out of view before she finally started to cry.

Monroe stormed into their encampment ignoring the confused look Connor sent his way and the annoyed ones he received from Charlie's family. Going into the millhouse he grabbed his pack and started rifling through it, checking its contents. On his way back from his confrontation with Charlie, he'd gone from defeated to just plain pissed. He was tired of being the only criminal in their group.

He'd done a lot of horrific things because of the Monroe Republic, but then again, so had Miles. The only reason it had even ended up being the Monroe Republic as opposed to the Matheson Republic was because Mile had insisted that people liked him better. And throughout their long friendship, that had typically been true. Miles had been the crabby, brooding one. Monroe had always been the fun and easygoing one. Miles had slaughtered thousands without Monroe's prompting him to do so. And yet because he just walked away, somehow that was supposed to make him redeemable, whereas being left to pick up the pieces somehow made him the only villain?

And Rachel? Her and Ben's nanotech had been the cause of millions of deaths worldwide, maybe even billions if you took into account all of the diseases, wars and famine that had occurred over the past sixteen years. No one knew what the current population of the former United States was, but he was willing to bet it was a fraction of what it had once been. Why was it that Charlie could forgive her parents, but not him?

Had Rachel helped turn the power back on when Miles had first brought her to Philly, what would have happened? Randall Flynn surely would not have been there to launch those nukes. The patriots had waited very patiently to hatch whatever plans they'd had. Rachel had known about the tower all along. Why hadn't she and Ben just gone there and turned the power back on in the weeks following the blackout, before everything had completely fallen apart? If she had the knowledge fifteen years later, she surely had it right when it had happened. Instead, they'd gone into hiding.

"What are you doing, Bass?" The object of his current thoughts suddenly appeared behind him as he tossed some of their meager food supply in his pack.

He whipped around to stare Rachel down. "I'm leaving. I've got something that I need to fix. Tell Miles I'll be back in a few weeks."

Nothing could have made her happier to be rid of him, and they both knew it. For once having been good friends, there was so much animosity between them. "Good," she stated evenly as she turned to walk out of the building. Monroe stalked over to Charlie's things now and stuffed something into her bedroll before he left the millhouse and headed out of camp. He stopped just long enough to tell Connor he was leaving for a while. The kid bitched and moaned about being left here, but he reluctantly agreed to not follow. Sometimes a guy just had to work things out on his own, he got it.

Later that night after she'd calmed down, Charlie returned. Weary, she pulled out her bedroll and unrolled it. She didn't see Monroe when she got back. Probably off pouting somewhere or planning his inauguration speech, she thought bitterly. As she unrolled the blankets, she saw a piece of folded paper fall out. She picked it up carefully. Stepping closer to the campfire, she unfolded it. It was the certificate. It had been crumpled up at some point, but Monroe had smoothed it out again. When she unfolded it, a glint of gold had fallen to the ground. She bent down to retrieve it. It was the wedding ring he'd worn. His father's ring. As far as she knew, once he'd put it back on, he'd never taken it off.

She understood what this meant. He was letting her go. She'd tried hard to get him to understand that she didn't consider it binding, but deep down it still had meant something to her. He'd given up on her. Charlie tossed and turned that night, wanting to go after him, but knowing that if she did, her family would eventually find out about the predicament she'd found herself in. In the end, she decided to leave well enough alone and wait for his return.

Over the two weeks, she threw herself into fighting the patriots and bonding with her guys. The goal in Texas had always been to save the town, so this is where she focused her energy. After several failed attempts by Gene and Miles to recruit help from within Willoughby, the decision was finally made to attack the Patriot training camp without additional aid. They had tried to save the cadets, but in the end that was their greatest mistake. The ones that had escaped doubled back and surrounded them from behind, not hesitating for a second to open fire. Connor and Rachel were both severely wounded in the raid, and all but one of Charlie's men died. Only Vincent remained. The loss was hard on Charlie.

They had been lucky to escape with their lives. Soon after fleeing, word began to spread that Texas had fallen to the Patriots. Some of the Willoughby cadets had gone into Austin and had taken out General Carver. Within days, patriot forces had decimated both the Texas Rangers and the voluntary militia.

** Three Months Later **

Monroe and his warclan returned from another small victory. They'd managed to take out a hastily built Patriot outpost outside of what used to be Omaha. The inner city area had been abandoned long ago, but the surrounding suburbs still supported small communities. His orders to the clan had been the same as they had always been: All patriots were fair game, patriot supplies would be split equally among the clan. But civilians and their property were to be left alone. If they were going to win this war, they weren't going to do it by pissing off everyone they came across.

He'd stumbled into his new position as a warlord by accident. When he'd left Willoughby it had been get Father Rodriguez to undo his marriage and to find a little perspective in his time away. Charlie may not have thought that piece of paper was binding, but he simply couldn't let it go, so he'd made his way back to New Vegas, desperate to be rid of her for his own sanity. He'd arrived in the area too late to track down Father Rodriguez, so he'd decided to meet up with Duncan's clan for the night. What he'd found there had turned his blood cold. There were less than two dozen clansmen left. The patriots had raided the area three nights before. It had only been that day that the survivors had doubled back to tend to their dead and salvage what supplies they could. Duncan was gone, and the remaining clansmen were in want of a leader. They knew who he was and what he was capable of, so he'd been elected before he'd even had a chance to decline the nomination.

The clan had first marched to New Vegas to find it had been completely razed. The bodies of gamblers and whores alike strewn about, some like they'd been ripped apart by animals. A whore, badly injured managed to tell them what happened before she died. The Patriots had come, but it wasn't the regular troops that had done this. She'd overheard them ordering the cadets to be "let loose". This was a training exercise. They were brutal and fought like animals at times.

As he heard this, a sinking feeling hit Monroe. He left a handful of men to search for more survivors as he headed with the rest west towards the Mission where he and Charlie had been married. What he found was more of the same. The innkeeper that had been so kind to them was dead in the street. There had only been about fifty people living here, and from them, only two survivors. Father Rodriguez had been one of them, although he'd been badly injured. The other was a little girl, maybe six years old. The inn, church, everything had all been burned to the ground. Nothing was left. So, they took these survivors with them and headed back down south towards Texas.

Having brought the man he'd come to seek with him, Monroe didn't see any reason not to head back. When the man was well, he'd ask him for him to annul his marriage to Charlie. As they traveled, they took out as many Patriots as they could, but it seemed for every one they killed, two more would rise up eventually to take their place. They came across other warclans that had been decimated in attacks. The Patriots had come to the plains to exterminate the clans and take the Midwest and the plains back. Stragglers joined his group constantly, and he now had over a hundred men, all looking to him as a warlord now.

They were just north of the border when word came that Willoughby was razed and Texas had fallen. He'd sent a few scouts down to look for signs of the Mathesons and Connor. They all came back with the same message. The story the Patriots were sticking to was that Miles Matheson and his little band of terrorists had destroyed Willoughby and been killed in the process. He'd mourned them for weeks. With each raid in that time, his orders became more brutal. He still insisted that civilians be left alone, but the message was very clear. If it wore a patriot uniform, it had better be dead at the end of the day. Anyone that was caught showing any mercy would be dealt with directly and harshly.

Having no other option, Father Rodriguez and the little girl, Emily still traveled with them. A warclan wasn't exactly the best company for a child or a priest, but with the Patriots attacking settlements at random, he could see no other way to keep them safe. And for some reason that he couldn't fathom, their safety became important to him. During raids, the priest and Emily stayed safely at their camp with any clansmen that may have been too injured to fight. When they were camped the child roamed free amongst the men and women that followed him. For the most part she was accepted as almost a mascot, and a few of the clansmen had even taken a liking to her, including Monroe himself. She adapted well to traveling with the clan. One of Duncan's men even fashioned a little bow and arrow set and was teaching her how to shoot.

About a month after Texas had fallen, Monroe's blinding rage slowly subsided and was replaced with acceptance. He supposed he had the good father to thank for that. He hadn't exactly found religion, but the old man was intelligent and easy to talk to. More than once he'd forced Monroe to stop and think after a lengthy conversation about one topic or another. The brutality in their attacks may not have subsided (it was a necessary evil for winning the war), but his need for it slowly waned.

After escaping Texas into the Plains, Miles had only one strategy, lay low and look for Monroe. They'd heard rumors that he was making the Patriots' lives rather miserable in the Heartland and that he was working steadfast at uniting what was left of the warclans against their red, white and blue invaders. With the loss of Texas, it seemed they only had two options: go into hiding and just accept the Patriot dominance or find a way to track down Monroe and join his fight. Both sucked, but Miles considered Monroe the lesser of two evils.

The latest news was that Monroe was working towards exterminating the Patriots in what used to be Nebraska, so that is where they were now headed. With every mile they traveled, Charlie grew more nervous. During the day, she was able to tell herself that she didn't care. He was a monster, a killer who lusted for nothing but power. They were only searching for him because he was their last chance at survival. At night, however when she was left to her own thoughts, she couldn't help but admit that she really missed him.

It had been over three months since Monroe had left when they finally neared his camp. Charlie was astounded with the size of the army that Monroe had amassed, considering that he'd left Texas alone. Miles thought better of sneaking into the camp at night. With so many men watching the camp, it was possible that if they tried to get in now, they'd be shot before Monroe even knew they were there. And that is to say that Monroe hadn't gone nuts again. For all they knew, he'd order them shot on site anyway – all but Connor at any rate.

Charlie, on the other hand was not happy with the idea of waiting. He was there, just a few scant miles away, and they had a lot to discuss. With everything that had happened between them, she didn't want their reunion to be witnessed by her family. She needed closure, but still wasn't prepared to let her mom or Miles in on their secret. Connor was taking watch. He'd walked a short way from their camp to check the perimeter, so Charlie decided to make her move. She quietly roused Vincent. If rumors were correct, his old clansmen followed Monroe now. He was her ticket in without getting killed.

"Wanna go see your old clan?" she asked him once he was finally awake. With a grin he grabbed his gear and they headed out. It was the middle of the night by the time they'd arrived. Luck was on her side and one of the clansmen on watch was one of Duncan's former men. Taking a few minutes to fill Vincent in, the man finally acknowledged her. Minutes later, Charlie found herself slowly working her way towards Monroe's tent. Of course she was stopped by a man outside. Leave it to Monroe to be paranoid enough to need a personal guard. "Who are you and what do you want? And for that matter, how did you get into our camp?"

She gave him an icy look stepping forward to confront him. "I'm here to see Monroe." She'd be damned before she let him intimidate her. "Do you really think I'd have made it this far if I Monroe wouldn't have wanted me here?"

Wordlessly, he gestured for Charlie to wait and then stepped inside the tent. She could hear voices inside the tent, but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. The man reappeared and indicated she could enter. As she moved towards the entrance, he grabbed her arm and pointed to the pistol that was holstered on her thigh. "Leave your weapons out here." Charlie briefly considered telling the man to go fuck himself, but thought better of it. Instead she glared at him as she removed her weapons and deposited them along with her pack just outside the tent. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and stepped inside.

She found him standing there, his expression guarded. When the guard described the young woman waiting outside, he'd been filled with a sense of excitement as well as dread. He'd had to ask the man to repeat the description twice more before it sank in. She was here. In the middle of the night. Outside his tent, not dead in Texas. He'd dug out a bottle of what passed for whiskey out in the Plains, and with shaking hands had poured himself a drink. He'd downed it right before she entered. Upon seeing her, he almost dropped his cup. He set it down on the crate that served as a table, and simply stared at her.

Time stopped for him. They could have stood there for minutes or hours. He wasn't quite sure. "A hello would be nice," she finally said, unable to take the silence any longer.

Monroe blinked a few times as he pulled himself out of the shock of first seeing her. "You're alive," was all he said. She nodded at him slowly. "You're – You're alive?"

Charlie took a step towards him, confused. He took a step backwards, still halfway convinced she couldn't be real. "Why would you think I was dead?"

Monroe picked up the bottle and with hands still shaking took a drink, not bothering with the cup. "We were just a day from the border when we heard that Texas fell. The Patriots were saying that your whole family died."

"Well Miles will be glad to hear that. Finally something went right," she murmured to herself.

Monroe suddenly reached out and grabbed her by both arms. It still surprised her how quickly he could move when he wanted to. "Miles is alive? What about the others? Connor?"

Charlie felt her heart race at his touch. "We lost four of my guys – everyone but Vincent. Everyone else pulled through, thanks to Grandpa. We had to go into hiding for a while, but we came north to look for you – to join you."

Monroe released her. Retreating a step back, he took a deep breath and slowly released it. He tried desperately to fortify himself. He straightened his shoulders and forced himself into adopt a formality he hadn't worn since he's defunct presidency. "Where are the others?"

Seeing her brought everything back. He'd left Willoughby feeling like an idiot and couldn't fathom why he'd thought one drunken night could lead to something. Maybe it had been all of the years of loneliness catching up with him or maybe it was just his jealously over her fling with Connor. Who knew? But he hadn't just spent three months getting over her just to crash and burn five minutes after seeing her again. No, he would distance himself. If he was going to get his republic back, they could never have anything any way – Charlie had made it perfectly clear that she would never trust his motivations. Not that he could blame her. He didn't even trust his motivations.

Charlie sensed the change in his demeanor immediately. He'd gone from a state of relieved shock to a reflection of the formal dictator she'd first met in Philadelphia a little over a year ago. But, she could almost see through it, just barely. The same rage-filled coldness in his eyes just wasn't there. Now, they seemed almost dead – like they'd been the night she'd tracked him to New Vegas. It was as if he'd just built a wall and cut himself off from the world.

"They're camped a few miles from here." She started to fidget, decidedly more nervous than she had when she first arrived – if it was even possible. She knew him well enough now to know he only cut himself off when he was in danger of letting go. She just had to push him over the edge – in the right direction. Too far one way and he could snap out of both reflex and self-preservation; Not enough and he'd only wall himself in further.

Her anxiety was not lost on Monroe. He'd seen her react to him with hatred, defiance, desire and annoyance. But, he'd never made her nervous before. Her apprehension made her look so vulnerable. No one would be as surprised as he to find that such vulnerability in Charlie would be the one thing to get to him most.

He stared at her; fighting with himself. Charlie sensed he was on the losing in of his inner battle and took a tentative step forward. God, I am pathetic, he thought to himself as he reached out and grabbed Charlie again, slamming her body into his. He kissed her roughly, giving in to months of frustration, anger and grief. He wound her hair around his hand and yanked her head back to give him access to deepen his kiss, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth.

If the moans Charlie rewarded him with were of any indication, she didn't seem to mind, instead she gave as good as she got. He could feel her nails digging into him through his shirt as she clung to him. With his other hand he unzipped her jacket and reached under the hem of her shirt to knead one breast. She arched her back, pressing herself further into his hand.

He released her hair and worked her jacket off of her shoulders. Her hands flew to his chest and started working the buttons of his shirt as his hands flew down to undo her belt. He undid her jeans and swiftly pulled them down. Charlie mirrored his actions and she reached down to undo his pants as well, yanking them down halfway. She found him hard and took his hard length into her hands. Panting, Charlie broke away from him long enough to kick off her boots so he could remove the denim obstacle entirely.

Finding her mouth again, he slowly backed up towards his cot, sitting down automatically when he felt the thin mattress behind him. Charlie's knees gripped his thighs as she straddled him. Not bothering to finish undressing either one of them, he gripped her hips and slammed her down over his length. She was already hot and wet, gripping him tightly, taking him in.

She stilled for a moment, relishing the feeling of him deep within her, stretching her. He took the opportunity to rip off her top. One hand supporting her back and the other on her hip, Monroe helped to lift her as she rode him, starting slowly and gradually increasing her pace. She raked the nails from one hand down his exposed chest, scratching his skin and drawing blood in several places.

Monroe groaned at the sensation, not caring about the scratches that would be there later. They clung to each other as she rose and fell, drawing them both closer. He reached a hand up and undid her bra, pulling it from her. Taking a nipple in his mouth, he sucked and nipped at it, taking her over the edge and sending her shattering around him. As she convulsed he stood up and flipped them around. Still impaling her, he laid her back on the mattress. She wrapped her legs around his hips, heels digging into his ass as he thrust himself into her hard and fast, desperate to find his own release. With each thrust she panted and moaned, a second orgasm building as soon as she'd found herself coming down from the first. His thrusts became wild and erratic as he approached his climax. He rammed into her one last time, spilling himself as she came again. Their lips met and they swallowed each other's cries as they exploded in unison.

Exhausted, Monroe collapsed on top of her. Despite the chill in the night air, the tent had become uncomfortably hot, but he was too tired and out of breath to care. He buried his face in Charlie's neck as he caught his breath. Charlie just closed her eyes. She felt boneless and relaxed. It then occurred to her that this was the closest thing to a bed they'd shared since the one night they both only slightly remembered. She laughed softly at that thought.

"Penny for your thoughts," he panted in her ear.

"I just realized how nice it is to not have something to lay on other than the hard ground. I don't have to worry about picking grass out of places that grass doesn't belong." She was laughing harder now.

Monroe found himself chuckling in spite of himself. Becoming aware that he was probably crushing her, he shifted them both. The cot was narrow – the only way they both fit was for her to lay halfway on top of him. Charlie rested her head on his chest, and listened to the sound of his heart in the silence that surrounded them. They both dozed off for a while before reality began to sink in again.

"We'd better get you dressed. This is a warclan camp. There's no telling who might poke their head in." Reluctantly they sat up. Gaining his feet, Monroe pulled up his jeans. His shirt was damp with sweat and clinging to him uncomfortably to his skin so he took it off and went about collecting her scattered clothing. She watched him as he moved, noticing he'd grown leaner, harder in his absence. She supposed that leading constant raids would do that. He'd been fit before, but this new lifestyle of his had taken that to an entirely different level.

He handed her the pile of clothes he'd collected and turned his back on her in search of his spare shirt. Pulling on her jeans, Charlie worked up the courage to finally say something. "Why did you leave? Did you come here to find Duncan?" She winced at her own words and the jealousy that was betrayed in her tone.

Monroe whipped around and gave her a strange look. "Did I what?"

"Did you come here to be with Duncan? You went straight to New Vegas. Why else would you go there?"

Monroe sank down on the cot, his elbows resting on his knees. He could not believe what she'd thought. He knew she typically considered him to be crazy, homicidal, etc. He could deal with that and even accept it. But strangely the idea that he'd just jump from her to another woman bothered him. "No, I didn't come here to be with Duncan."

"Then why did you leave?" She was fully dressed now and was sitting next to him on the cot. He rubbed his face with both hands before dragging them through his hair. He had no idea how to explain his actions without looking like a complete ass. Leaning on his knees again, he turned his head just a little to look at her. Her expression was almost pleading.

"You made it very clear what you wanted – or rather what you didn't want. And I realized how stupid it was to expect anything less. So I gave you what you wanted, space."

Charlie thought about this for a few minutes. He was answering her without really answering her. "Why New Vegas?"

"I wasn't headed to New Vegas. I was headed to the mission settlement. I went to undo our little arrangement." He watched her carefully now. She didn't have a complete understanding on how things worked with marriages before the blackout still. "I went to ask Rodriguez to annul it," he clarified.

The idea that anyone would go such lengths for something so unnecessary confounded Charlie, and she told him just that. "Seems like an awful lot of work for a piece of paper."

He was almost offended, and would have been if she hadn't grown up post-blackout. "The space was for you, Charlie. The annulment was for me. I needed it to be over," he explained sadly.

Charlie's eyes stung. She hadn't truly intended to break things off with him when they'd argued. She'd just been pissed. Granted, she hadn't exactly intended to keep him either. She hadn't known at the time what she'd wanted. "So did he?"

"Not at first, stubborn old man. But after word came back that you'd probably died he granted me one. Filed it with the bishop in Topeka almost two months ago." He briefly explained that Rodriguez had come with him after the razing of New Vegas and the nearby mission.

Charlie stood up abruptly, shocked. "Wait, so we're no longer married?"

"No," he said wearily. He left the cot and crossed the tent to retrieve the bottle he'd abandoned earlier. "You're free, Charlie." He washed down his bitterness with a swig. "It's an annulment. Technically, we never married in the first place."

Charlie stepped towards him and grabbed the bottle from him. She took a drink, grimacing at the flavor. "Ugh, that's disgusting."

Her reaction forced a laugh from him. "Yeah. Tastes like shit but –"

"Always gets the job done," she finished the sentence for him, surprising him a little that she remembered what he'd said about the nasty plains drink all those months ago. She set the bottle back down and stood on her toes to kiss him lightly. "I didn't want you to go." His eyes widened as he processed what she was trying to say. "Don't get me wrong, I wanted to kill you after Miles told me about your plans for the future. Still kind of do when I think about it. But, I didn't want you to leave."

"Then why did you say –"

Charlie clapped a hand over his mouth to stop him. "Yeah, because you've never said something stupid and nasty when you were pissed about something, right?"

He grabbed her wrist and plucked her hand off of his mouth. "Ok, I'll give you that one. So what now?"

Picking the bottle back up and took another drink. "Wanna get drunk and wake a priest up?" She couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face. "I'm kidding. Well, not about waking the priest up."

His heart started to pound in his chest at her words. But if their last conversation in Texas had done anything, it had shown him there were one too many obstacles between them. "Charlie, my plans haven't changed. You need to understand what's happening here, why we're camped outside of Omaha to begin with." He explained it to her then.

"I'm uniting what's left of the warclans. I've got four committed and a few more pending. I'm working on a treaty with the Cherokee, Cheyenne and Pawnee nations as well. It's already started. The Plains Nation could have been powerful if it hadn't been so fragmented. If this works, we can win. Well, at least we can get the Patriots out of the plains."

She looked up at him, understanding what he was saying, he already had an army. Now all he needed was a country. "I thought you were going to go back and reclaim your republic."

"Yes and no. Most of it has been destroyed. Those bombs destroyed more than just Philly and Atlanta. The fallout destroyed half of the Republic. Anyone still living there will eventually die of radiation poisoning or cancer. I'm not going to reclaim a wasteland. So I'm starting here and will work my way East until I hit the fallout zone. For the time being at least, Omaha will be the new capital. You need to understand this, Charlie. It's already begun. If you can't live with that you need to leave now."

She sighed as she walked back over to his cot and sat down. "What do the locals think about all of this? What happens to the people already living in Omaha?"

"I didn't come here without an invitation, Charlie. The Patriots were tearing the area apart. We did them a favor. It's a two way street. They'll let us in but we have to protect them." He watched her carefully as she absorbed everything he'd said.

"Okay then," she sighed. Standing, she reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Curious, he gently grabbed her wrist and opened her hand. On a leather strap were his parents' rings. Smiling he led her from the tent.

Father Rodriguez was more than a little annoyed at once again being woken in the middle of the night by this couple. "You want to get married, then you don't want to be married. Now you want to be married again? Do you think holy matrimony is a laughing matter?" He glared at them as his words seemed to amuse them. After recovering from his shock that Charlie Matheson was indeed alive, he'd gone from amazed to exasperated fairly quickly.

Monroe cleared his throat and tried to appear at least a little serious. "Sorry, Padre."

The tired old man raised an eyebrow at them, "I am sure you are not. Well, if you are to be married I suppose we should get started. Your witnesses?"

Monroe looked around. A few of the clansmen were still awake. "Hold that thought," he said as he stalked towards a group of them. A few minutes later he returned with two of them trailing behind, snickering behind his back. "I heard that!" he exclaimed, trying to sound irritated.

With the two slightly inebriated witnesses standing off to the side, Monroe gestured for the old man to proceed. "Wait, what about Emily? She will not be happy in the morning," Father Rodriguez warned.

Monroe froze. He hadn't considered her before now. He felt like an ass. The Father was right. She was going to throw a fit if she found out he didn't include her. "Who's Emily?" Charlie's question brought him out of his thoughts. "Jesus, Monroe. You have someone?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Sort of," he said. Knowing exactly what she was thinking, he looked forward to seeing his reaction to meeting his new someone. "Padre, do you know who's got her tonight?"

The old man considered this. "It's what, Thursday? Let's see that means it's Bryce's turn I suppose."

Charlie looked appalled. It took all of Monroe's willpower not to lose it. He looked at one of their witnesses, James if his memory served. "Well, why are you just standing there? Go and get her."

While they watched the man retreat Charlie turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone? I get it, you thought I was dead, but still."

The father stifled a chuckle as he watched Monroe try to calm her down. "Just wait a few minutes. You'll see." As if on cue a little bundle of wildness flung itself at him with a squeal. He caught her easily enough and swung her around with a laugh, earning him another squeal. He set her down and knelt down beside the child. She was dressed in a blend of pre-blackout clothes and post-blackout leathers, in the style many of the warclan members preferred. "Emily, this is Charlie. Charlie, meet Emily."

Charlie simply stared, in a state of complete shock. "Where? Why? Huh?"

"Her mother worked in New Vegas. She'd brought her to the mission about a year ago. Gould had apparently some nasty plans for her. We found her there when we went looking for survivors. I guess you could say we all sort of adopted her."

Charlie nodded slowly. "Um, okay. So your warclan has a daughter." It made no sense to her, but then again nothing seemed to make sense lately.

He pulled her aside, leaving Emily to pester the two clansmen and the priest. "The Patriots were attacking every settlement they could find. They learned pretty quickly out here that the Plains aren't like the other nations. Even the more civilized towns wanted nothing to do with them. If we left her somewhere and moved on, it'd only been a matter of time. It's not ideal, but she's looked after. Once we get established in Omaha she won't travel with us."

Everything seemed to press in on Charlie. There had been a lot to take in since she'd snuck off with Vincent earlier. This last revelation seemed to overwhelm her. "What are you going to do with the girl after this is all over? Assuming everyone's still alive."

"Keep her, of course." He said it like he was surprised she would even ask.

She watched the girl for a few minutes. She was running as fast as she could, weaving herself around the clansmen, who were trying to catch her to no avail. It had to be at least two in the morning, and the kid was still up and full of energy. But, she seemed to at least be happy. Somehow this all actually made sense to her. By marrying him she was not only gaining a warlord/crazy ex-dictator as a husband but was also gaining this wild little animal as a sort of daughter.

With a shrug she grabbed Monroe's hand and walked back over to the others. Seeing her, the little girl stopped running and glared at this new intruder. Charlie walked right over to the child, glaring right back. "Ha! You blinked. I win," she said after a few minutes.

Impressed that Charlie knew how to have a staring contest, Emily smiled. Charlie bent down towards her. "So, wanna be a ring-bearer?" The little girl nodded as she held out her hand. Charlie handed her the rings and rejoined Monroe, gesturing for the priest to get started.

Very early the next morning, Miles found himself wandering through Monroe's camp, looking for Charlie. When they'd woken up and found both Charlie and Vincent gone, it hadn't taken long to put two and two together and figure out she'd come here. For the life of him, he couldn't fathom why.

After a brief confrontation with the men guarding the camp, Vincent had come out and gotten them in. As he passed a row of tents, a little hoyden with a miniature bow and arrow jumped out in front of him. "Who goes there?" The little thing demanded. After the excitement last night she'd only been able to sleep a few hours, and had decided to guard Monroe's tent from intruders.

Miles suppressed a smile as he took in the sight before him. "Aren't you a little young for guard duty?"

His impertinent question got her dander up. She notched the arrow and drew the string menacingly. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" She questioned.

Miles held his hands up and rolled his eyes. He knew the bow was little more than a child's toy, but he decided to humor her. "Miles Matheson, at your service. And who are you?"

The little girl narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. "I'm Emily, personal guard to Sebastian Monroe." Her voice was filled with both menace and pride.

"Oh really? And tell me Emily, where is Sebastian right now? Care to take me to him?" If anything, he figured Bass would know where Charlie was.

"What business do you have with our warlord?" she questioned with all the ferocity a six year old was capable of.

He found her little act cute at first, but Miles was tired and starting to get a little irritated. "Let's just say he's an old friend. I'm hoping he can help me find someone."

She cocked her head at him as she considered this. "Okay!" she said and then skipped off. With a chuckle, Miles followed the little girl. He watched her poke her head into a particular tent, and then turned back to him. "Monroe is having breakfast with his wife, but he will see you now," she said and with a grandiose gesture she set down her bow and arrow and used both hands to hold open one of the tent flaps.

"Wife? Wait, what?" He asked aloud as he headed into the tent with Emily hot on his heels. Miles stopped dead in his tracks at the site of Monroe and Charlie sitting on old crates at the makeshift table with plates of food in front of them. Reaching for his sword Miles started to shout. "I swear Bass, that kid better be joking, or I'll – "

Monroe and Charlie didn't even look away from their meal. "You'll do absolutely nothing because there's a six-year old standing right behind you, Miles," Monroe interrupted with a grin.

Miles looked down at Emily. "Beat it kid," he said. Emily pouted for a second and left the tent. Miles turned back to them, ready for blood. Charlie and Monroe had both now turned away from the table and watched him. Before he could make another move, Emily had returned. She did not like the way this man was threatening her warlord / adopted father / playmate. Charlie had noticed Emily and was trying not to laugh as she pointed behind him. Eyes locked on Monroe he didn't notice, which was rather unfortunate. Charlie lost it when Emily jabbed Miiles in the rear with her little arrow.

"Ow! Hey!" He said, turning to glare at her. With a look of satisfaction, Emily walked past him and went to stand next to Monroe. "What, so you're hiding behind kindergarteners now, Bass?"

Monroe turned back to the table and reached for his coffee (silently giving thanks for Father Rodriguez for getting it). "Hey, I'll take help where I can get it. I wouldn't cross her, pal. She's lethal." He took a drink and set the cup back down. "Seriously, though. You're not going to do anything. I've got over a hundred men in this camp with more coming. If you try anything, they'll kill you."

"Bass, what the hell is going on?" Miles looked from Charlie to Bass and back to the little girl again. It was too damn early and he was too damn sober for this.

Monroe turned to address the child. "Emily, I have a mission for you." Her eyes widened as she nodded. "A reliable source has informed me that Jose picked up some peppermint candy in town and is hiding it in his tent somewhere. Your mission is to infiltrate his tent, grab his candy stash and bring it to me. If your mission is a success, I'll split it with you."

With a determined grin, the child accepted her orders and stalked out of the tent. Monroe laughed as she left before sobering and turning back to Miles. "Really, Bass?" Miles was stunned.

"Oh, I'll be lucky to see a single piece. Probably keep her busy all day," Monroe said as he picked up his coffee again and took a drink. "You know, for someone who's been 'dead' for the past few months, you look like shit, Miles."

"Okay, I'm going to ask one more time. What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On?" Miles bit out.

An hour later Miles sat on their cot with his head in his hands, having been told everything - starting with Bass finding Connor and Charlie together in New Vegas. "I knew you looked guilty when you got back from New Vegas," He said. "You do realize that Rachel is going to kill you, right Bass? And then she's going to kill me for not killing you for her."

Charlie poked her head out of the tent at the sound of a commotion outside. "Well here's our chance to find out, because here she comes." Charlie backed away as Rachel entered, followed closely by Gene and Connor.