Authors Note: My biggest and most sincere apologies for falling off the grid for a while. With all the upheaval about will Revolution be cancelled or not, my muse took off and it took Charlie a while to track her down. But after a couple months, she managed to find her and Bass managed to wrangle her back in. Of course then I finally got the chapter written, then overwrote it with an older, incomplete version, which just angered me and set me back a couple weeks because, to paraphrase Bill Murray from Groundhog's Day "Don't Write Angry!" Also, while interactions between Charlie and Bass seem to come easily for me, interactions between one of those two and anyone else, does not. This isn't some of my favorite work, but I was tired of this chapter taunting me with its unfinishedness, so I published what I had.

I think this story will have one more chapter, two at the most, and then I will finish up Hiatus, finally. Thank you to everyone who has read these fics.

Ben was enjoying a peaceful evening in what qualified as a study in this building. His daughter had been appeased for the moment and he was savoring a nice bourbon he had had brought in from the area that used to be known as Kentucky.

Unfortunately, the peace was disrupted by the study door being slammed open and the "no longer appeased" daughter came storming in.

"Did you really think I would be OK with your treatment of him?" she shouted at her father.

Sighing, Ben put his drink down. "Honey, he isn't a guest here, he's a prisoner. Prisoners are treated a certain way. To get information or to be used as leverage."

So which is he? Charlie wondered. She looked at her father and could tell he was waiting for her to ask him that very question. She made a demand instead. "I want him out of there, dad."

Ben just smiled…silently laughed, really. "Nothing in life is free, honey. You know that."

Leverage it is. "What do you want?" Charlie asked as she sat down opposite her father. She had a feeling she was not going to like whatever he asked for.

"Your mother and Miles." Ben made it sound so simple, so obvious. "Tell me where they are, or, I'll send some of my men with you to go get them…whatever you would prefer."

Charlie couldn't do that. Somehow she's sure that Ben knows she couldn't, yet he still asked for it. Is he just playing with her, torturing her somehow? Or is he trying to see how much Bass Monroe means to her? She gets up and leaves the room. Silently. She doesn't look back at her father, nor does she wish him a good night.

Somehow she made it back to her room before any tears fall. She didn't want to cry in front of her Patriot escorts. She flopped down on her bed and began to sob. How could she possibly choose between the wellbeing of Bass and that of her mother and uncle…who knows what her father and the Patriots would do to them? Maybe Bass could hold on another couple of days. Maybe if she could visit him more often, maybe she could get him a blanket…something. Buy him some time while she comes up with a plan. Yes he was getting beaten, but she's pretty sure she's given him worse. Hell, she's pretty sure he got worse in New Vegas.

She slowly drifted off with her tears still flowing and her head and heart aching. Her sleep is fitful and restless; later…she isn't sure how long, she's woken by some commotion in the courtyard outside her window, so she gets up to investigate. Peering out the window she sees Patriot soldiers placing metal barrels in a large circle in the courtyard. The ones already in position have had fires lit in them, illuminating the area. Uninterested, she decides to go back to bed.

With the turmoil in her mind and the commotion outside, sleep continued to elude her for a long time. She had finally drifted off again when she heard a man's muffled scream…a scream of suffering. At first she thought she was dreaming. And maybe she had been and the screams had infiltrated her dreams.

She crept to her window again to look out. She wasn't sure why…did she really want to see that particular horror. She could tell the man was in agony. These weren't shrill screams…like that of a woman seeing a mouse. These were the screams of anguish; the kind where you could tell it was hard for the person to take in a breath because of the pain. Charlie could hear the gasping between the screams.

The man was strung up with his hands bound together at the wrist, hands high above his head, feet barely touching the ground. Blood covered him and it was no wonder. He was being whipped, but not just with the normal bull-type whip. They were also using chain. And the links were the size of a man's hand.

Charlie wondered why this man was on such display…and for whom? There were no other prisoners to make this man an example for. And then it hit her as her stomach fell. This was for her. She couldn't look, but she didn't need to. I didn't realize you could recognize a person's voice by their scream, she thought. She reluctantly dragged her eyes to the man's face to see what she already knew. It was Bass who was being tortured. Because of her.

Immediately, she hurried to see her father. Fortunately, he was still up. No, not fortunately. He was waiting for her.

"You'll end up killing him," Charlie said, tears running down her face as she glared at her father, "but I can't give you what you're asking for." She dropped to her knees in front of him where he sat, placing her hands on his knees, begging him silently. She then continued, "Please. There has got to be something else. Something where I don't have to betray them."

Ben stared at his daughter. He knew she was a gentle soul growing up and was pleasantly surprised to see she had managed to retain this sensitivity through the war she had been fighting. He was dumbfounded, though, that she would feel this way over Monroe…at least to this level. He considered her request. He rose out of his chair as he thought about it. She remained on the floor and watched him intently…silently…hope in her tear-filled eyes.

Sighing, he eventually turned somewhat towards her. "There is something, but I hesitate to mention it because quite frankly, I'm not entirely sure I want you to do it."

Eager to hear an alternative, Charlie rose and stepped closer to her father. "What? What is it?"

Sighing again, her father motioned to a couple chairs. Charlie wiped the tears from her eyes and sat down waiting for her father to explain his new "demands."

"You see honey, the people of the United States like familiarity. They want what they know." He leaned in a little closer to his daughter. Confused and not really sure where this was heading, she leaned in, too.

"And the most familiar, the most comforting thing there is is the family unit, right?" He waited for a moment for his daughter to respond.

Cautiously, Charlie did respond, "Rrriiight."

"Well, Mrs. Davis, the president's first wife, died during the blackout. She was in flight when it happened. And the president has never remarried. There was never a good time, but now that things have started to settle down here on the mainland…the east coast is well under control, as are the Plains. Texas is in a good place and it's only a matter of time before California is worked out…it's been decided that the time is right for the president to pick a new wife. And it's been decided that this since he is a busy man with a lot on his plate, a…crafted…marriage is better suited than your more organically created ones. Do you understand?"

She was beginning to…and was really wishing she wasn't. President Davis? That really old guy? Like really, really old guy? Could she do it? She was getting ill just thinking of him touching her.

Apparently her father could tell. "Honey, this is about appearances, not love. You stand by him at photo ops, what few there are now-a-days. You attend state dinners, museum openings, symphonies, and other official events like that. But unless you want him to have a physical relationship with you, he will not. Like I said, he is a very busy man." She seemed relieved. Maybe she could do this. To save Bass. What's that catch, though? "You will have to live in DC, I'm afraid." And there it is.

"I can't leave my mom and Miles," Charlie exclaimed to her father.

He didn't respond, just looked at her, as if to say, "really? You'd rather turn in your mother and Miles?"

Charlie sat quietly and thought. If it meant keeping her family safe, and more importantly—free—then maybe this could be a sacrifice she could make. And easily. And he'd already said she didn't actually have to act the wife in the bedroom. The bedroom. She thought about Bass. "So, if I did this, you'd let Bass go? Let him return to Miles?"

Ben laughed at that. An actually, deep laugh. "No, my dear. The Patriots have no desire to ever let those two team up again. Ever." He fixed his daughter with a stare that made her sit far back in her chair subconsciously, actually wary of her own father.

She sat there for a while, still a little fearful, and then it dawned on her. "Wait. This whole thing was about Bass' treatment. Of letting him go. You want me to marry that walking corpse…"

"Mind your manners young lady. That is the president of this great country you are talking about."

"Fine," she ground out. "You want me to marry that fine, upstanding, gentleman…and Bass stays where he is? Are you insane?"

Ben settled into his chair, refilled his bourbon, and shook his head. "No. Honey. Of course not. We will move Mr. Monroe to DC around the same time you go there. He will remain a prisoner there, but he will be kept in simple quarters in a private, secured wing at the White House where you can visit him whenever you'd like…when it doesn't interfere with your duties as First Lady, of course."

"And he won't be harmed." She didn't ask her father. She simply reaffirmed this with him. She wasn't going to waver on this provision.

"And he won't be harmed. Provided the both of you follow the rules."

Charlie narrowed her eyes at her father. "What rules?"

"They're very straight forward and common sense. No undermining the president. No plotting against the president. No plotting to break Monroe out and run away with him. Nothing that will interfere with your duties as First Lady." Ben stops and looks at his daughter, a rather disgusted look on his face. "And while no one 'cares' what you do with that man in private, no one…absolutely no one…sees the two of you together. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah, of course"

Standing taller than she had ever seen him before, her father bellowed down to her, "DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!"

Charlie, for the first time in her life, was actually frightened of her father. For once, he actually looked evil, and hard, and uncaring. She sat all the way back in her chair. If she could, she would have scooted all the way back to the point of being behind the chair.

"Yes. Yes, I understand."

Immediately, the old Ben Matheson returned and quietly sat down. "Good. You will leave tomorrow. You should get some rest."

"How am I going to tell my mom or Miles?"

Ben paused a moment, then offered, "We'll get a message to them. Now go." He nodded to the guards by the door indicating he was done with this conversation, even though Charlie clearly wasn't. The guards escorted her back to her room, when she realized she never was able to ask her father when Bass would be released from his cell here. Was he going to be kept there tonight? Would he get help for his injuries? God, were they beating him still?

Her paced quickened until she was nearly at a sprint by the time she reached her room. She slammed through the door and ran to the window and looked out. She found the courtyard abandoned and dark. She began to panic and frantically look all around, hoping she wouldn't find his motionless body laying somewhere alone in the dark.

She was so caught up in her desperate search she was oblivious to all else, until she heard movement on her bed. She stilled, readying to do battle. She didn't care if he was the so called president. He had no right to enter her room. She mentally centered herself then spun around in battle mode.

Trying-and failing-to laugh, he simply stated through pained coughing, "I'm unarmed. Don't shoot."

"Bass!" All the stress and tension left her body as she dove onto her bed to be next to him. She could tell he was in a ton of pain…he was covered in bruises and welts, dried blood and fresh blood. She could hear his raspy breath. She just wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, but knew she would probably just cause him pain. Instead, she, cautiously, leaned in to kiss him gently. She poured in all the feeling she could into it: all her worry and love, and all the work she did to get him out of the situation she had found him in just a few hours earlier. Even though he was week, he returned the kiss with all he could, too.