A/N: I think Charlie had a pretty interesting few months on the road before she finally found Monroe fighting in New Vegas. This story explores that, and Charlie's interactions with a man who is about as different from Monroe as you can get. Don't worry, it's still Charloe all the way, but there are non-Charloe lemons ahead too!
Charlie was in a bar somewhere in the Plains Nation. The town she was in had some nonsensical name, maybe Little Put. She'd crisscrossed the country so erratically, following fruitless leads on Monroe, that she'd all but lost track. Her latest had turned out to be a bust, too. She'd heard that a man claiming to be the former President of the Monroe Republic had formed a war clan that was operating out of the weathered remains of Fort Carson. Well, that had been true, but unfortunately that man had not been Monroe. Just some pretender riding on the coattails of the most notorious leader in the land.
Every time she failed to find Monroe, it hurt a little more, but it also increased her need to find him. All these months with him in her head, it was starting to feel like he'd been by her side. His face was almost as familiar to her as her own-the bright blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, strong jawline… tempting lips. Charlie shook her head. Lately she couldn't stop thinking about Monroe's mouth. And the things it might do to her…
Absolutely she wanted to kill him. No question. He was pure evil, he'd put her through hell and back. But it was easy to forget sometimes, when evil was wrapped in such a sinfully attractive package. And as time passed and her rage at him slowly abated, like the tide going out, she sometimes thought, if she found him, she wasn't so sure what she'd do after all. Not that she was anywhere closer to finding him than she was when she started.
Discouraged, Charlie surveyed the bar around her, swirling her liquor in her cup. A round, loud man with a long, brown ponytail had just sat down a few stools down from her and was regaling the bartender with tales from the road. Given his decibel level, Charlie couldn't help but overhear that he was on his way from New Vegas out to Chicago, where he was planning to meet up with an uncle who owned a bar. Charlie smirked at that, raising her glass to her lips.
"But you should see the scene in New Vegas, man, it's CRAZY!" Ponytail ranted. "I mean just… the WOMEN! They're everywhere! And with the biggest tits!" He swayed slightly on his stool. "And the fight scene, oh man. Just guys beating the SHIT out of each other for the crowds, every night. Famous fucking guys, too." He leaned in confidentially, still speaking at the approximate volume of a bullhorn: "I even saw… General Monroe. Won me some money on that one."
Charlie turned to stare blatantly at the man. Probably just another drunk blowhard, but he had piqued her interest. The bartender, however, looked unimpressed, so the man urged him, "Come on! General Monroe? President of the Monroe Republic? Or at least, he was." The man laughed. "Now he goes by some dumb-ass alias, I can't remember. I think it was… Jimmy King."
At that, Charlie froze. She knew that name. How did she know that name… wracking her brain, she lit upon it. James King. James Wilson King. Chief Engineer in the Navy during the Civil War. That was the name of the guy with the bushy beard whose picture had hung in her Uncle Miles' house when she was a very small girl. He had explained to her that Mr. King had built very strong, very fast ships for the Navy.
Charlie had seen the same picture, in the same frame, in General Monroe's office when she'd been taken there, when they'd first met. She'd recognized it instantly, and she remembered that it had been so jarring to see something from home. James Wilson King. Jimmy King. It couldn't be a coincidence. It was like Monroe was calling to her, taunting her with his choice of alias. Here I am. Come and get me.
She vaulted off her bar stool and shimmied up to the man with the ponytail. "Hey stranger," Charlie said in her breathiest, flirtiest voice. She thought she might have been laying it on too thick, but the man brightened with interest. "Did I just hear you say that YOU placed a winning bet on THE General Monroe?"
Ponytail puffed with pride. "You did, indeed, sweetheart. Earned me a pretty penny. It was obvious he was going to win-the other guy could barely crawl away afterward!" He chuckled at the memory.
Charlie shook her head in feigned wonderment. "Wow. Where do they even have fights like that? You said in New Vegas?" He'd said New Vegas.
"Yep, New Vegas. Lotta the bars have em, but GOULD. He gets the best guys. He had Monroe, like, every other night-oopsie, I mean Jimmy King!" He slapped his knee as he laughed harder. "Jimmy King! I mean, what kinda name is that?"
Charlie tried to get the man to focus, "Gould? That's the owner's name? Where Monroe fights?" Her face had gotten serious, her voice low with malice.
Ponytail stopped and seemed to notice her change in demeanor. "Gee whiz, lady, what's your deal? He owe you money or something? Yeah, he's at Gould's place. From what I heard, he's been there a long time." He eyed his empty glass and added greedily, "You know, sometimes people think it's polite to PAY for information."
Normally, Charlie would be irritated by this leech of a man, but a feeling was blossoming in her chest that she'd just gotten the lead that would take her straight to Monroe. Overjoyed, relieved, she nudged him with a smile and said, "You know what, you're right." Getting the bartender's attention, she gestured down the rail and said, "Bartender, a drink for everyone, on me!"
The bartender poured out the shots and handed her one, which she downed quickly, then turned to pull her money out of her pocket. A dark, muscular arm reached over her shoulder before she had a chance, putting money into the bartender's outstretched hand. She turned quickly. Standing behind her was a massive, gorgeous black man with close-shaved hair and warm brown eyes. Flustered, she protested, "I was going to get those. I'm celebrating tonight!"
"Maybe I'm celebrating, too," the man said with a wicked grin, holding her gaze. "In fact, now that you're talking to me, I definitely am."
She laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Nice line," she commented, and he laughed, too.
"So what are we celebrating tonight, Miss…" he trailed off, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
Charlie looked him over appraisingly. Liking what she saw-liking it very much, actually-she replied, "Charlie."
"Charlie... No Last Name Because We're in a Bar in the Middle of Nowhere and This Guy is Already Way Too Friendly," he said, a laugh in his deep voice, still smiling. She would come to find that he smiled virtually all the time. "It's nice to meet you. I'm B."
"B?" she said. "What does B stand for?"
He leaned in close to her and murmured in her ear as if telling her a secret, "Broderick." He leaned back. "But most people find that a mouthful."
"I can handle a mouthful," she sassed back. Deliberately, slowly, she repeated: "Bro-der-ick."
Broderick nodded at the bartender for a couple of beers, "Better for getting to know each other than shots," he explained, sliding one over to her. "So. You didn't answer my question."
"What am I celebrating?" He nodded. "Oh… let's just say I've been looking for someone for awhile, and I finally know where to find him." She smiled grimly to herself.
Broderick looked at her curiously, "Oh really? Old boyfriend? Baby daddy?"
Charlie wrinkled her nose and swatted his arm. "No!" she exclaimed. "Just…" The man who destroyed my family and my life and is rumored to have nuked half our continent out of existence. "An old friend."
He nodded skeptically, and she quickly followed up with, "What about you? You said you're celebrating too."
"Oh I am," he assured her. "Because I just overheard that the most beautiful woman I've seen in months is headed the same direction I am. To New Vegas."
Charlie ducked her head at his flattery, then asked teasingly, "And what's in New Vegas for you? Old girlfriend? Baby mama?"
Laughing a little, Broderick shook his head. "No. Work. I'm going to become a mercenary, working for this woman Duncan."
Charlie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You're going to be under the command of a woman?"
"Yep. She pays the best because she hires the best." He gestured toward himself. "Obviously, I fit the bill. Besides…" he added with significance, "I like a strong woman."
Charlie and Broderick talked, laughed, and flirted until the bar closed. As they walked out into the cool night together, Charlie said, "I hope you're planning on walking me home."
"I plan on a lot more than that," Broderick said smoothly, pulling her into his arms. She tilted her head far back, and he kissed her sensually, opening her mouth with his. He tasted of beer and spice, and his body felt strong and hard against hers. After a few minutes, they parted, panting, and made their way back to Charlie's room in the boarding house.
Charlie and Broderick both knew what they wanted and wasted no time getting there. Between heated kisses, they tore their clothes off quickly. Charlie was impressed but not surprised by Broderick's cut, solid physique, and by the look on his face he was equally appreciative of hers. Broderick laid back on the bed, pulling Charlie on top of him. She straddled him, her legs spread wide across his body, bending forward to kiss him, working her wet slit along the ridge of his cock below her. Finally, she reached behind and pressed him into her entrance, sinking down onto his girth with a low moan. As Broderick stroked her clit, she rode him hard and came almost immediately.
After a few more minutes, Broderick's breath quickened and he thrust into her faster. Then, without warning, he threw her to the side and onto her back, straddling her stomach. Quickly, he pumped his dick with his hand, groaning loudly, and he came on Charlie's breasts. She lay beneath him, somewhat shocked, as he grabbed tissues off the bedstand and handed them to her with a conspiratorial grin, unabashed. She quirked an eyebrow at him and wiped off, and they were soon asleep.
That night, as she did most nights, Charlie dreamed of Monroe.
A/N: Coming next chapter, Charlie dreams about what will happen when she finds Monroe, and questions whether her subconscious is telling her something she's not ready to admit.