A/N: This is Part Two in my "Deleted Scenes" series of canon-compliant one-shots that support the Charloe pairing while keeping true to the series. This installment fills in some 'blanks' from the episodes "Dead Man Walking" and "The Patriot Act".
Note: If you haven't read Part One "On the Way to Willoughby", you might want to read that first. Yes, it has been a year since I wrote the first bit. Sorry for the delay. I do have the rest of this series planned out and there is an eventual happy ending – but as you might guess, keeping close to canon means that the road to a happy ending will include a very bumpy ride.
Happy Birthday, Irish! This one is for you, my friend. With any luck, I'll get the next part (in which Charlie sleeps with Connor and fall out ensues) written before your next birthday? **crosses fingers**
The night is dark and heavy with the heat of late summer. The old jail is barely a shadow of its former glory, with boarded up windows and a leaky roof. Charlie kicks at the crumbling foundation, imagining a few different ways they can break Monroe free. She smiles slightly before squatting next to the barred windows of the basement level cell. She speaks softly, "Heard Carver's speech. Continent's most wanted man, huh?"
Monroe sits in deep shadow with his back against the wall. The cell smells like cat piss, mildew and something else he can't quite identify, and doesn't want to. The sound of dripping water and the scurry of tiny rodent toenails has been his only company until now. "Yeah, well the continent evidently only wants the best."
"Debatable," Charlie says with a smirk, her teeth glittering white in the darkness as she glances around.
"Not what you said behind the livery on Thursday." Bass reminds her. His voice is low.
"Had a weak moment. I'm over it." Charlie shrugs, her smile fading. She hates admitting it, but no matter how hard she tries to hate this man, he's under her skin.
"That's probably for the best. Why are you here?" he asks.
His words sting. She frowns into the darkness behind the bars. "Wanted you to know that we're going to get you out. Not sure how yet, but we need you out here."
"You need me to help you fight your war?" Bass suddenly sounds as defeated and tired as he feels.
"Among other things."
The double meaning in her words is clear, but it fills Bass with a dread he can't explain. This has gone on long enough. He hesitates, listening to the water drip through a hole in the corner of his cell. "You gotta go, Charlie. You shouldn't be here."
"Where else would I be? Like I said, we need you. We're gonna get you out."
"Yeah, fine. Get me out. Then it's time to stop this thing with us."
"This thing?"
"It was supposed to be just the one time, remember? We weren't ever going to talk about it once we got to town. Sure as hell weren't going to repeat it."
"So stop talking about it." There is a bite to her words.
"I'm sorry. I'm just – all of this is too much. You deserve better than whatever the fuck this turns out to be."
"No. When we were on the road together, things were okay. Things were -"
He doesn't wait for her to finish her thought. "We're not on the road anymore."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I'm a fucking mess, and if Texas has their way, a dead mess. You don't want me, I promise. Go find yourself a guy, Charlie. Not me."
She stands quickly and sways for just a moment as blood rushes to her skull. "Stop talking like that. You're not gonna die and this thing isn't over."
"Yeah, it is. Even if you guys break me out and somehow this all doesn't end up with me swinging from a rope; we're over. No more hookups behind the livery. No more sneaking into my room at night."
"No more blow jobs on the roof of Grandpa's house?"
Bass groans. That had been a stupid mistake for sure but it seems that when it comes to Charlie, he has no restraint. That ends now. He takes a deep breath. "Or that. You and me - we are oil and water, Charlie. I'm way too old for you. Miles would kill me if he found out - "
"I know all that."
"And Rachel." Bass shakes his head. "Charlie, your mom hates me. Hate doesn't even cover it. She blames me for everything."
"So what? She's not me." Charlie feels her chest tightening. What the hell is happening here?
"You do too."
"I do what?"
"You hate me. You like to fuck me, but you still hate me."
She shakes her head. "Hated you before. Not now. Not the same way I did anyway. More like I know you had a role in it all, but you weren't alone."
Bass puts his head in his hands. He's been in tight spots before, but this shit with Texas feels the tightest. "Don't want to talk about it anymore. You should go. Find Miles and see what he's got planned. I'm not goin' anywhere."
"So, I'm being dismissed?"
"It's better this way. I think you know that. Even in a world where I'm not me and you're not you, this was never going to work, Kid."
"Don't call me kid."
"But that's what you are."
Charlie doesn't answer as she turns to walk away.
Later, Charlie and Miles watch from a rooftop as Monroe is moved from the crumbling jail to a much sturdier bank. She feels her stomach drop, even before Miles explains how bad this is.
It's really, really bad.
She wonders if Bass somehow knew all along that a rescue was never going to work. He was trying to protect her, maybe? She clings to this idea because it feels better than rejection - better than the stinging wound he's opened in her heart.
Later, when Miles confronts Rachel, Charlie's mom admits that she tipped the Patriots off to a possible jail break because for Rachel, revenge is far more important than winning the damned war.
In this moment, Charlie hates her mother as much as she has ever loved her. Maybe more. Charlie tells her the truth, or as much of it as she's willing to share. "I almost died. You know who saved me? Monroe."
Rachel doesn't blink. She doesn't even seem to care. Her favorite villain is locked up and all is right in her world.
Charlie doesn't go inside the courthouse when Monroe is led to his execution, choosing instead to join the throng of onlookers who line the streets. Aaron stands with her as she watches the procession. As Monroe is guided along the dusty road, the chains rattle at his wrists.
He looks tired and defeated. She supposes it's because he is both.
Charlie is fighting the urge to reach for her knife when their eyes meet. The blade is right there in her boot. She figures she could surprise at least one of the guards. He'd be dead before he even noticed she was there.
There is an almost imperceptible shake of Monroe's head. "No," his eyes say. His mouth says something else. "Take care of your uncle, Kid."
Kid. The hated nickname echoes in Charlie's head. After all they've gone through – after all they've done together and become to each other – he still thinks of her as a kid. The fact that he's willing to end things like this, fills her with rage. Charlie's hand still itches for the knife, but now she wants to plunge it into Monroe's heart instead of his guard's.
As he is swallowed by the crowd and gone from her life for good, the rage fades and in its place a pain like she hasn't experienced before, blossoms and grows. She ignores Aaron's worried cries as she rushes from the town square in a flurry of fumbling steps and jagged breathing.
When Texas has executed the continent's most wanted man, they celebrate in typical Texas fashion. The unending gong of the church bells ring in Charlie's ears and the cheers rise from the crowds in waves that blanket the town. She is blocks away when she hears the uproar and in this moment, she knows that it is done.
She lurches along for a few more steps before stopping. She rests her hands on her knees and vomits. The heaving slows only when her meager dinner is gone and only bile remains. She wipes a shaky hand across her mouth
She closes her eyes, willing the reality of this moment to change, but it does not. Bass Monroe is dead.
The night of the execution is a blur of hazy images. Charlie remembers tracking down Miles. Her heart had broken anew as she watched her uncle in his hour of grief. She had listened to a few toasts he'd made on his old friend's behalf and then she made sure he got home. She remembers going back to the bar and drinking with Aaron. They drank a lot. She remembers punching a guy in the jaw who bad mouthed Monroe. She remembers kissing that same guy later, before punching him again.
He'd asked why she kept hitting him, his face an equal mix of desire and confusion.
"Cause you're not him," she'd said before finally letting Aaron walk her home.
She's in her own bed when she wakes the next morning to the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of harsh whispers. Ignoring both, she stumbles outside and walks to the creek. She bathes quickly, allowing the cool water to clean and soothe her heated skin. With regret, she pulls on her dirty clothes from the day before.
When she gets back inside the house, Rachel is sitting alone at the kitchen table. Her knuckles are white around the old cracked mug in her hands.
"What?" Charlie asks when her Mom won't stop staring at the cup in her hands.
"We need to go up the hill."
"Why?"
"Something you need to see up at the old Miller farm."
Charlie is going to argue, but something about her mother's tone tells her not to. "Okay."
They walk up the hill in silence. Rachel's jaw is set in a firm line. Charlie tries to ignore her and it's not hard. Her thoughts are still far away. Charlie feels numb.
She feels numb as they walk into the old farm house. She's numb as they walk down a shadowy corridor. She's numb until they walk into a large room with a sagging bed sitting along one side.
Her heart lurches and suddenly she isn't numb anymore. "He's alive?" Her voice feels as raw as her heart when she sees Monroe's prone form in the bed.
"Yeah." Rachel says darkly. "He is."
It seems to Charlie like hours pass before Miles and Rachel leave the room. They don't say so, but Charlie knows they want to talk without an audience. That's fine by her. Rachel tells her to ply Monroe with water, and maybe get him to eat. She nods toward a tray of rumpled apples and reedy strips of jerky before following Miles from the room.
Charlie waits till she hears the front door slam shut. She watches out the window as her mother and Miles stop under a towering oak near the barn. They are out of earshot, but Charlie can tell they are fighting. Rachel is animated, her curls swinging as she angrily shakes her head. Miles points at the house and she crosses her arms.
Charlie lets the curtain fall. She has some time. Finally, she faces Monroe. His eyes are open but droopy. He's out of it and half naked and weak.
Charlie thinks he's sexier than ever. She licks her lips. "So, you're alive?"
"Guess so," he croaks. "Water?"
She nods and pours a glass from the pitcher her mom had left by the apples. "Here." She holds the glass to his lips when he makes no move to take it from her.
He drinks greedily. "Thanks."
"Yeah, sure." She puts the water back on the table and sits on the edge of the bed. She can't take her eyes from him.
"You're staring."
"Never took care of a dead man before."
"Not dead yet."
She looks away, suddenly feeling wildly uncomfortable and self-conscious. The discomfort morphs into anger when she remembers the last time they'd really talked; he'd been pushing her away. She steals a glance at him. He smiles a small loopy smile.
Charlie's heart melts and she shakes her head. "You're pretty messed up."
"High as a kite," he agrees.
They sit in silence for a while. Finally, she speaks, "So, what's next for you? You can't stick around here. Texas is going to notice how not dead you are." She stares at her fingers, picking idly at a broken nail.
"Gonna look for my kid. I think Miles will help me."
"I don't want you to do that. Got a bad feeling about it."
Bass scowls. "As soon as I'm better, I'm going – even if I have to go alone."
Charlie watches him. She hates this new son she's never met – hates anyone who can so fully take Monroe's attention away from her. She watches as his chest rises and falls, his breathing steady. "Don't want to fight," she finally says.
He sighs. "I don't want to fight either."
She reaches for his hand, stroking his fingers with her own. "What do you want, Monroe?"
He hesitates. When he answers, his voice sounds husky. "You know."
She cocks an eyebrow high is surprise. Even though she wants the same thing, he's as weak as a kitten and his words from earlier are still fresh in her mind. "Oil and water, remember? This can't ever happen again, remember?"
"Thought I was a dead man. Was all bullshit. Want you."
"You were probably right. It's a bad idea, and look at you. You're just barely alive."
"Alive enough." He pulls at her hand. "Need you, Charlie."
She shakes her head. "As tempting as fucking you out of your coma sounds, I'll pass. Got to go to town with Miles and Rachel. They're waiting for me."
When the explosion rocks Willoughby, Charlie helps her mom and grandfather offer first aid to the wounded. With every bandage she wraps around a bloody body part, she can't help but think about the one person she wants to nurse instead of all these strangers.
She gets her chance, but not till the night is full dark and morning is just hours away. She waits till she knows everyone is asleep before leaving the house. She sneaks through the shadowy streets, avoiding the soldiers on patrol and finding her way through a break in the fence.
She arrives at the old farm house without incident. Creeping up the stairs, she winces when a board creaks under her feet. She opens the door silently and makes her way down the narrow hallway, feeling her way as she goes. When she reaches the room where Bass should be, she hisses, "Monroe?"
She should have known he'd be feeling better, but she's surprised when she feels a hard body at her back and a blade at her throat.
"Yeah?" he asks in response, his breath hot on her ear.
She elbows him hard in the ribs. "You scared me."
"I scared YOU? I was lying in bed, trying to sleep when you broke in."
"There was no breaking. The door wasn't locked."
"What do you want, Charlie?" He sways just a bit before dropping with a thump onto the bed. "That shit your mom didn't kill me with? That was some hardcore shit. I'm still weak as hell."
"Good thing it was just me coming up here, then. You wouldn't stand a chance against someone who actually wanted to kill you."
"You don't want me dead? That's sweet. You might be the only one."
"No. Miles was really upset when we thought you were – never mind."
Bass rubs his temples. "So, why are you up here? Worried I'd run off and not be here to fight your war?"
"Maybe." She sits down on the edge of the bed, not touching him. "Also wanted you to know all hell's breaking loose in town. There was an explosion."
"Yeah. I heard it. Woke me up."
"Well, lots of people got hurt. Miles and Mom are all worked up about it. Grandpa too."
"Is Miles okay?"
"Yeah. He's fine."
"Then I don't care." He lies down on his back with a sigh. "Come over here and take off your clothes."
Charlie's heart begins to pound. "You just said you're weak. Aren't you too tired for that sort of thing?"
"Never too tired for that sort of thing."
"What if Miles comes in?"
"Thought you said he was in town? Besides the sun isn't up yet. He's asleep."
"Well, maybe, but sometimes he doesn't sleep well. What if he followed me and comes in while we're – you know?"
Bass grins slowly. "Tell him you're giving me CPR."
"Naked?"
Bass pulls at her hand, and she falls awkwardly at his side. He brushes his lips against her temple. "You're a child of the blackout. You never did get proper training."
"I assure you that when Aaron trained me the basics of CPR, everyone was clothed."
"Come on, Charlie. I'm still kind of sleepy. Wake me up."
She wants to say no. She even forms the words in her mind, but somewhere between her brain and her lips, they die, forgotten. Charlie wants him. She fears she'll never stop wanting him. They may be oil and water, but she cannot get enough of this man.
A sliver of moonlight filters through the open window. A soft breeze blows at the curtains. Charlie stands, stripping off her clothing and letting it fall in a heap. Naked, she stares down at him and smiles as he devours her with his gaze.
His voice is low and husky. "Never thought I'd see you again. Glad I was wrong."
"Me too."
He's flat on his back, his eyes still hooded as he watches her. She can tell she's going to have to do the heavy lifting this time, and that's okay. Bass is a take charge guy, both on the battlefield and in the bedroom and she's never complained. In his current condition however, he'll just have to do what she wants. She likes the idea immensely.
His lips part and he slowly licks his teeth before speaking, "You look good, naked in the moonlight."
"Just good?"
He shakes his head. "No. Not just good. Come here."
Charlie steps near and Bass props himself up on his elbows, so that he can watch her better. She reaches the edge and crawls onto it, her body hovering over his. "You look pretty damn good too, you know – for a dead guy," she says before leaning in to kiss him as he lowers himself to the bed once more.
This kiss is slow but sure. Neither of them had ever expected to be close like this again, convinced that fate had stripped them of any kind of future. The future is still uncertain, but this moment is theirs and they relish this renewed closeness they'd once taken for granted.
His jeans are pulled away and thrown to the floor. Charlie grasps his cock and strokes the velvety skin of him. Leisurely, she slides her fingers up and down, grasping firmly.
Bass grunts, thrusting his hips to encourage her every movement. "Charlie," he whines.
"Mmmm?"
"Please get up here and fuck me."
"Be patient." She shakes her head, flashing a teasing smile.
He reaches between her legs, finding her slippery with need. "You say be patient, but your body wants to go slow about as much as I do."
Her thighs shake as Bass strokes the little nerve bundle nestled between her folds. "Damnit," she mutters before throwing a leg over and settling against him. She leans forward and kisses him again, trapping his throbbing cock between their bodies. She rubs against his length, enjoying the friction on her clit.
"Charlie, come on," Bass begs against her mouth.
She lifts herself from him and pulls his cock up and away from his body. She refuses to break the kiss as she lines him up and settles down, sheathing him smoothly in one slow movement.
As the first rays of morning sunlight peek over the horizon, lighting her skin with a soft golden glow, Charlie slides up and down his cock. Her pace is languid and unhurried. She has missed this. Missed him. Having Bass back, even this tired version of him, is like an answer to a prayer that she doesn't remember saying.
His fingers dig into her hips as he urges her to go faster. "Hurry up, maybe. Kind of tired," he mutters.
His eyes are looking droopy again and she frowns down at him as she rides. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me."
He forces his eyes wide and yanks her down hard, the tip of his cock pushing roughly against her cervix. She grunts with the sudden forcefulness of it. He pushes her up and pulls her down again. So much for her being in charge. She would complain, but he's hitting all the right places and the only sound she can make is a moan as her insides turn to jelly and she breaks apart.
Charlie's pussy throbs and pulses as waves of pleasure rock through her body. Bass is tired, but not so much that he can't flip her over. He slams into her from above, going as deep and hard as he can.
He loves the feel of her wet heat snugly wrapped around his dick as he thrusts. He loves the way she moans and scratches at his back. He loves being with Charlie like this. His thoughts are on how warm and perfect she is and little else as he comes, buried deep inside. His cock is still pulsing into her depths when he passes out, his weight falling on Charlie who exhales sharply with a surprised 'oof!'
"Get off." She growls as she pushes at his dead weight.
He mumbles something incoherent as she wriggles free and he rolls onto his back, spread eagle on the bed. She stands up, her chest heaving with exertion. She's pissed that he didn't bother to withdraw before coming and more than a little offended that he'd actually passed out during the main event.
Her irritation fades as she watches him. He is adorable when he's asleep. His curls are unruly around his head and the wrinkles around his eyes are relaxed. She watches his chest, finding comfort in its rhythmic rise and fall.
As she pulls on her clothes, she remembers that conversation at the jail. He'd tried to build a wall between them that night. She wonders if it he'd really meant any of what he'd said. Maybe now that he's not facing Texas justice, he'll go back to being like he was before. Then again, maybe he'll try to push her away again.
She sighs, hating the uncertainty and even more than that, hating that she cares.
Her thoughts are distant as she pulls the blanket up to his chest. She's just stepped away and is heading toward the door when it bangs open. Miles is as surprised to see her as she is to see him.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" he asks.
"Just checking on him. Thought you were stuck in town."
"I left. Probably the same way you did." He chuckles at her surprised expression. "What? You think you're the only one who has figured out the fence can be breached by the old church?"
She shrugs, eager to leave. "Whatever. I'm going to town. Gonna see if Mom needs my help."
Miles stops her with a hand on her arm. His expression is strange. "Charlie?"
"Yeah?"
"Why does it smell like sex in here?"
Charlie opens her mouth and then closes it. She tries again. "Well, maybe he was jacking off in his sleep?"
Miles shakes his head. "No." He closes his eyes and shakes his head again. "No. No. No."
"Just stop, Miles. This is none of your concern."
"Really? That's what you're going with? It's none of my business?" Miles's voice rises with each word. "He's a fucking invalid at the moment, but if we didn't need him to fight, I'd slash his throat right now."
"Oh, stop. You would not." Charlie steps between Miles and the bed and crosses her arms. "You know how I know that? Because I sat with you when you thought he was dead. I sat there and listened to you say how sorry you were that things had gone sideways between you two. I listened to you cry about losing the best friend you ever had. You aren't going to kill him. You love him."
Bass's voice is soft and sleepy. "Loves me. You both do."
Miles pushes past Charlie only to see that Bass is still sound asleep. He whirls to face his niece. "Tell me it's just sex, Charlie. Tell me it's a crush and you've gotten him out of your system. Tell me that you don't love him. You can't love him. You just can't. You deserve so much more than –"
"Stop!" Charlie's fists are clenched. "Stop talking. I don't love him."
Miles lets his shoulders drop and then he sits heavily on the edge of the bed. He stares at his bandaged hand and when he speaks; his voice is heavy with defeat. "You're a shitty liar, Charlie."
Charlie bites her lip as tears well. She doesn't know how to respond, so she says nothing.
He looks up at her, sadness etched in his expression. "He's going to hurt you. He doesn't know how to do anything else. Bass is broken – the kind of broken that can't be fixed. He runs hot and cold. He's - " Miles throws his hands up. "It's just a bad idea, okay? A really bad idea."
She shakes her head in sharp little jerks.
Miles stands and begins to pace. "You can't tell your mom about this. She just can't know, okay? Knowing about this would make the aftermath of the tower look like a toddler's birthday party."
"You think I was going to tell her?" Charlie scoffs. "I'm not stupid."
He nods in approval. "Good. Once he's better we're heading to Mexico for a couple weeks. Maybe the distance will do you guys some good."
"Mexico?"
"Yeah. That's where his kid is."
Charlie isn't thrilled. She has a bad feeling about Monroe's kid – a bad feeling she can't quite explain. Clearly she's outnumbered in this, so she just nods. "Fine. I'll be ready to go."
"Oh, no."
"What?"
"You're going to keep your sad puppy dog eyes here in Willoughby. You can help your Grandpa. I am not taking you and Bass on a road trip where at any moment I could interrupt you – " Miles shudders at the thought. "Just no."
"Fine," she growls before heading to the bedroom door. She looks at Miles but he's staring off into space, lost in thought. She glances to where Bass is lying in bed, surprised to see his burning blue gaze trained on her, his eyes now open and mostly clear.
She wonders how much of her conversation with Miles he'd been awake for. As she watches, Bass mouths "Sorry". Evidently he'd heard enough of it.
She nods slightly. "Talk to you later."
Miles thinks she's talking to him. He waves her away absently. Bass closes his eyes once more to feign sleep.
She leaves the house, but hasn't even made it down the front steps before she hears Miles yell, "Wake up, you son of a bitch! We need to talk."
To be continued… eventually.
Happy birthday, Irish! I hope your day is amazing. PS Thanks for giving this a read through. Your suggestions were much appreciated. :)