He was still crazy.
The mask Monroe wore to convince others he was in his right mind was a thin veil at best. It's only with the shocking realization that he had a son out there that there came a sudden shift in perspective. In one moment, he went from burned out sociopath to a tormented man. Monroe was on a mission to find his family and perhaps, along the way, the smallest iota of forgiveness.
He had tried making an offering of himself by transforming from man to punching bag or, in essence, proffering up his pound of flesh to the powers that be, but to no avail. Back in New Vegas he swam in a sea of depravity hoping to drown. Only he hadn't expected Charlie. She yanked him out of the world he knew he deserved, however unintended on her part.
Timing is everything in life. Or at least that's what people said when they could still read the time. Now, with the seemingly endless succession of hours and days, it was easier to get lost and much easier to forget that things still had the ability of happening at the right time, in the right place, for the right reasons. Or at least those were the musings of a crazy man when he climbed out of the hot spring outside Willoughby and caught Charlie staring at his wet, naked body.
Meeting her heated gaze in the moonlight Monroe nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise. Funny enough, when he saw her, his first thoughts were that she was there with more bad news. Afraid of what could happen to Miles, his heart pounded loudly between his ears at the thought. He also didn't want to have to jump into X-Files creepiness or see any more spontaneously combustible Patriots that night. He hadn't even considered that, without meaning to do so, he had already put into motion Charlie's own form of spontaneous combustion.
"Are you ok?" Monroe finally poked at her entranced look with the question.
"What?" She spoke in a harsh whisper, her eyes still fixated on the parts of his body that held the most interest. Her gaze raked from muscular thighs to heavenly male bits and expanded to absorb the broad width of his rock hard chest. Monroe couldn't help letting out a small chuckle at her reaction. Her eyes snapped up to his at the sound.
"I asked if you're alright?"
Charlie's cheeks burned with embarrassment and she quickly turned her head back to the dense copse of forest she'd come from.
"I'm alright. I was just so worried about Miles and Aaron and thinking about all the craziness today. I couldn't sleep after everything that happened so I went for a walk and then I saw you. You were in the spring and I… And I…" She rambled out the words so fast, they sounded almost foreign on her lips. Monroe never heard he speak so fast before, he thought she might still be in shock from all the near death experiences they were racking up.
"Yeah." He mumbled, gratefully interrupting the stuttering mess she'd become. Monroe grabbed at his clothes nearby finally feeling the rush of impropriety fall over him at his nakedness. He quickly jumped into his pants scolding himself for feeling anything akin to pleasure at the heated look Charlie had given to him. "She's just a kid, totally innocent in this." He mentally tried to convince himself. "Hell, my son would be older than her. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve her. I have to get out of here." The thoughts tumbled over each other in a rush, too fast to examine how he had gotten to his conclusions. He only knew now that he could not arrive at any other.
"Monroe?" He could not indulge in this train of thought. He could not.
"Bass?" Charlie was looking back at him now, her tone sad, but whether it was from the day's events or him putting his clothes on, he couldn't be sure. He nodded to her sharply in acknowledgement sheepishly wishing he could hide under the nearest, largest rock. He mentally pushed the fact that she'd finally called him by his first name as far to the back of his mind as humanly possible.
"What happened today, at the high school… I'm glad you came back." Something told him that was as much thank you as he was ever going to get and in all likelihood surely more than he deserved. He simply nodded again and found something interesting on the ground to stare at. His body slightly turned in the direction of his camp, mentally preparing himself to flee. When he finally looked up again, Charlie was standing right in front of him. She was so quiet, she could have passed easily for a ghost or an angel flying in to take him to the other side of reality, to the death he now felt sure he deserved. Charlie hesitantly placed a forgiving hand on his shoulder surprising him again with such a pitying look. He wondered what had happened to all the rage that had once flourished behind those bright blue eyes.
"I need you… to help me…Can you do something for me?" Was this really the same girl that had tried to assassinate him only weeks before?
"Anything," he whispered in response and coughed, dislodging the voice caught in his throat and repeated himself, "Anything, Charlotte."
She looked down at where her hand touched his shoulder and realized that it felt like she was burning up from the spark that had jumped between them. She quickly removed her hand and instantly regretted the loss of contact. At first Charlie was disgusted by these emotions, that every stolen moment of happiness with him was somehow an insult to the memory of those she'd lost in large part because of him. She swallowed hard and found herself wishing she had the courage to name what she really felt. Instead, Charlie stumbled over words she hadn't planned out.
"I need to know… I need to learn…" Monroe raised his eyebrows in pointed anticipation. "…How to fight better." The bitter mistruth lodged itself in her throat and she swallowed it down, adding to the sickening mound of feelings she was always too fearful to express. Monroe just sat there looking up at her, patiently waiting for her to continue or finish her train of thought without having any idea that there was none, unaware that there was just raw need hidden behind a wall of uncertainty.
"I mean, I need to learn to fight back even harder. You have to train me how to fight like you do." The idea was both repellant and necessary to Monroe. On the one hand she had a point. She had more than once proven that she needed to learn how to protect herself better. But it was a revolting thought at the same time that she would need to learn to protect herself better, that he perhaps wouldn't be staying in her life long enough to protect her for, well, the rest of his. It was also sickening because he didn't want her to be anything like him. But looking up at her now, the full flush of her lips, the womanly curves of her body in contrast to the seriousness of her jaw clenching and unclenching from what he thought was in anticipation to his answer. Her hard eyes narrowed at him and he wondered if it had already happened. Did all the accumulating death in her life transform her into a mirror of his own frustrating emptiness?
Monroe stood up, ready to go, to be anywhere but here with these thoughts. He turned and she grabbed his elbow, swinging him back around to face her, the two of them just inches apart.
"Tomorrow." He ground out the words forcibly, "Be outside the safe house at first light and we'll get started." He managed to bite out before turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible without breaking into a sprint and running. Charlie stood frozen in place afterwards for what seemed like an eternity staring at the spot she'd first seen him standing, half in spring water, half in naked air. She was bewildered but excited for tomorrow, that life could be different. There was the possibility that in time they could give renewed meaning to both their lives.
