A/N Honestly, I should have known better than to ask whether or not you guys wanted more. You Charloe shippers are awful greedy (myself included). :-) Anyway, hope you guys like this.

It's nearly midnight when Bass finally stumbles in from work, nearly slipping on the manilla envelope that had been pushed beneath his door. He scoops it up and flicks on the light, dumping his keys on the counter before sinking into the sagging armchair that the furnished apartment came with. The front of the envelope has the familiar, untidy scrawl of his best friend on it.

TO SEBASTIAN MILLER

Bass huffs at the stupid name, but of course, the change had been necessary after the incident. That very mention of it sends his tired mind sprawling into the darkness, so he shakes it away and tears the envelope open. Inside there's a new birth certificate, passport, drivers license, and social security card. All with the name Miller on them.

Tossing the papers on the crowded coffee table, he reaches into one of the many boxes littering the small living room floor. He's determined to unpack at least one box before bed. Hopefully he'll finish unpacking all of this junk someday. He'd never realized how much crap he had until it was time to fit it all into boxes.

An old baseball glove, a picture of his parents, his favorite book Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era by James M. McPherson, and other odds and ends. He finds the framed picture of the day he and Miles had graduated from the police academy and sets it aside with a heavy heart. A newspaper clipping lies facedown in the bottom of the box, though he doesn't need to flip it over to know what it is. He snatches it up and shoves it back between the pages of his book before he can make the mistake of looking at it, again.

The only thing that would accomplish is making him feel like shit. Again.

He kicks off his shoes on his way to the bedroom and loses his pants just outside the door before dropping onto the bed. It doesn't matter if the place is mess. He's the only one here to see it. Rolling over onto his side, Bass tries to get comfy and closes his eyes. Unfortunately, sleep doesn't come easy for him. Not anymore, not since the incident. He tries to think of something, anything pleasant that might help him sleep, but finds his mind occupied with the woman at the bar.

It's been a week since he met 'Annie' and if he's completely honest, he's thought about her everyday. Those blue eyes full of hurt and sadness, but somehow full of hope. He's considered tracking her down, it probably wouldn't be too hard - he had been a cop after all, but something holds him back. She'd said that she hoped they would see each other again and maybe, just maybe, he's waiting to see if they do. Maybe he'll see her at the bar again, or maybe that's stupid. Getting involved with a married woman, whether happily or not, is a bad idea.

Bass growls at himself for even thinking it and rolls over to his other side. It's not like he wants to sleep with her, anyway. He just wants to help her. Being a cop for nearly twenty years tends to cause that. But maybe he doesn't even want to help her. Maybe he just wants someone to talk to that won't give him weird looks because they know what happened. A friend.

Maybe he's just rationalizing.

He huffs and punches his pillow into a more comfortable shape, closing his eyes with the hopes that maybe he can sleep. His dreams are meandering tales of sad, blue eyes and brilliant smiles with random gunshots in between. Bass wakes with a start early in the morning with sweat beaded on his brow and children's screams echoing in his mind.

"Hey, you listening to me kid? Hey, Miller!"

Bass shakes his head roughly and blinks the sleep from his eyes as he turns to look at the man sitting next to him.

"Yeah, I hear you Archie."

"Mhmm." The old man gives him a knowing look. "I told you that you needed to quit all that partying and get to bed on time. I can't be doin' all the work around here.

"I wasn't partying." Bass mutters, thinking of his fitful sleep the night before.

"Mhmm. Whatever you say, kid." Archie continues to lecture on the benefits of a good night's sleep, but Bass just tunes him out. This is the third night in row he's heard it, anyway. Plus, it's not like the old man takes his own advice. Give it ten more minutes and he'll surely be fast asleep.

The museum is already closed so there isn't much work to be done other than sit and watch the monitors of security feeds. It's dull work, but changing your identity makes it impossible to walk into the local police precinct and apply.

Sure enough, Archie starts to snore around 7:30. Bass suspects this is his usual bedtime. The old guy used to work the day shift, but the supervisor switched him to the evening shift, three to eleven, because he needed someone to 'train' Bass.

Some training.

All of the camara feeds are still except for the exterior ones. Just average Chicago citizens hurrying home after a long day. Nothing interesting to report.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he doesn't even hesitate to answer it, knowing full well that Archie will sleep until the night shift guys come to relieve them. The number on the screen is familiar, it just hasn't been programmed into his new phone yet, he's dialed it from memory too many times to count.

"Hey, Miles."

"Hey, did you get my letter?"

Bass thinks of the manilla envelope that's still on the coffee table at home and nods even though Miles can't see him. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks, brother."

Miles sighs and Bass can hear the lecture coming before it even starts. "You know you don't have to do this Bass. You could just come home."

They've argued about this very thing at least a hundred times over the past month and it's gotten them nowhere every time.

"I know you think it would be that easy Miles, but it wouldn't. Not for me."

His best friend sighs again. "I'm sorry. We miss you, that's all."

"Who, you and Dickhead?" He asks with a laugh.

"No, not the damned goldfish you idiot. I was talking about me and Nora."

"Oh. Well tell Nora I miss her too." Bass says softly.

And he does. He misses Miles, Nora, Will, and Alex. Hell, he even misses the damn fish.

"Tell Dickhead I said hey." He adds into the heavy silence.

It's a testament to their friendship that Miles doesn't even make a joke. "I will. Just... at least consider it. Coming home, I mean."

"I'll think about it," Bass promises, though he has no intention of doing so.

When the night shift guys come in to switch places, Archie jerks awake and shoves his glasses back on his face. "Come on kid," he says, punching Bass on the arm. "What did I tell you about sleeping on the job?"

All Bass can do is laugh and shake his head. "My bad, Archie. Won't happen again."

"Damn straight," the old man mutters, making his way slowly out of the room, much to the night shift's amusement.

When Saturday finally rolls around, Bass can't seem to get himself motivated enough to move. He's spent the entire day lazing around the house and still has no desire to do a single thing. He glances at the moving boxes still piled around the living room but grabs the TV remote instead. There's nothing on worth watching though. He flips through the channels and settles on some insane reality show where one woman is apparently dating twenty different guys. It gets a laugh out of him if nothing else.

He gets up to grab a drink from the refrigerator during the commercials. The TV is easily seen from the fridge across the small room and he cringes when one of his least favorite people on the planet pops up on the screen.

"Tom Neville Insurance Agency. Call me, because I care."

"Yeah, about yourself," Bass grumbles. He doesn't know the man personally, of course. But Tom Neville has certainly made a name for himself by being a major asshole. He'd heard rumors of corruption cases floating around Chicago PD, but nothing ever stuck.

The commercial is enough to put him off of watching the rest of the show and finding out who the blonde chick will choose to live happily ever after with. The woman's face flashes on the screen before he hits the power button and he finds himself thinking of 'Annie' again. It's Saturday night, but not too late that she wouldn't still be out. Maybe if he goes to the bar he'll see her again. The thought is enough to get him off his ass and into some pants.

The bar is a little more crowded than it had been last time, but unfortunately the girl he's looking for is nowhere in sight. Sure there are a couple blondes, but they don't have her blue eyes or her dazzling smile. The disappointment he feels at her absence is strange but he shrugs it off, trying to convince himself that he just regrets not being able to help her.

"Hey I remember you!" The blonde bartender says with a smile. "Bass, right?"

"Yeah, can I get a beer?" Jeremy grins as he passes him his drink and Bass can tell that the other man wants to say something.

"Didn't you talk to that girl a while back? You know, the one with the..." Jeremy trails off, gesturing to his own cheek. "The bruise."

"Yeah, I talked to her for a little while."

"Did she tell you what happened?"

Bass raises an eyebrow at him, not sure if he likes all of the questions he's asking.

"Oh, I'm not trying to be rude," Jeremy says hurriedly. "I just hate to see a lady treated like that, you know?"

"I hear you, but she didn't tell me anything. I got the feeling she didn't want to talk about it."

Jeremy shakes his head sadly. "Shame. I don't understand how people can do that to someone they supposedly love. I certainly couldn't. Then again, if I tried, my girl would just beat my ass."

Bass laughs. "So is she tough or are you just a pussy?"

Jeremy rolls his eyes at him and stalks off to the other end of the bar in mock outrage. "Let me know if you need anything else," he yells. It's loud enough that people turn to stare but Bass doesn't care. For the first time in months, he's actually kind of enjoying himself.

They chat on and off as the night wears on and the crowd thins. Around one, Bass decides that it's far past when 'Annie' might come in. Before he leaves, he asks Jeremy, "so the girl with the bruise, is she a regular? You seen her before?"

A smile flickers on Jeremy's lips but he shakes his head. "Nah, I had never seen her before until you were both here. Why, are you looking for her?"

"Why would I be looking for her?" Bass asks, suddenly feeling defensive.

Jeremy puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Whoa, relax. It was just a question." The knowing, little grin playing at Jeremy's lips irritates Bass and he grumbles to himself all the way to the door.

"I'm not looking for her," he tells the cool night air. He wonders if it believes him.