Author's Note: Some naughty stuff in this chapter. Not a lot, but some. Much more in the next chapter. If you are a big fan of Jason (I'm not), you might not like this one. Sorry in advance.

Shifting Sands

Beyond exhausted, Bass takes Charlie to her tent and they sleep there for the next fourteen hours. Connor peeks in on them every now and then but they don't even move. They are both fully clothed. Sharing the narrow cot, they are entwined like lovers. Connor is glad that Charlie seems to be resting, but he is anxious. Duncan's men should now be well on their way to Willoughby. Miles and the others need to know they are coming so they can plan their next course of action against the Patriots. He packs his bag and waits for his Dad to wake up. They need to get on the road. Now.

When they finally come around, Bass has other ideas. Charlie is struggling both physically and emotionally. The worst of the swelling has gone down and she can see out of both eyes. Bass has carefully wrapped her broken ribs and put some salve on the worst of the cuts. Her ankle is not broken, but it is badly sprained. She hobbles around slowly with the aid of a long stick. She won't let Bass out of her sight. She is withdrawn and skittish. He is all that is keeping her from a full emotional break down. Simply, she needs him and does not need to be traveling. Bass convinces Connor to stay at the camp with them for a few days. Timothy helps them find a courier who will deliver a message to Miles for forty diamonds. Connor thinks this is far too high a price to pay, but Bass hands over the stones without a second thought. The heist had earned them enough for Duncan's men with more to spare.

Over the next few days, Connor watches them. Charlie still doesn't talk much, but she is slowly healing. She eats a little. She sleeps a little. She follows Bass around like a sad puppy. Bass, for his part, doesn't seem to mind. In fact, if she's out of his sight, even for a minute – he is immediately on edge. Connor has been sleeping solo in the larger tent. Charlie and Bass are now officailly staying together in her smaller one. She's still having nightmares, and he is the only one who can calm her when the night terrors strike.

Connor knows nothing physical has happened between them. Not yet, but it's just a matter of time. Everyone around can see this - everyone who is paying attention anyway. The air around Monroe and Charlie is thick with anticipation. Every glance ripples with heat. They seem to read each other's thoughts. They are joined in some way that even they don't understand. These two former enemies are now something else entirely. They are joined. They are an entity. Ever since the night of Boaz, they are Bass and Charlie, Charlie and Bass. They are never one without the other.

Connor frankly is getting bored with it all. They don't need him. Hell, they don't even notice him much. They aren't mean about it, but they often don't remember he's even there.

The day that he announces he's heading to Willoughby to join the fight; they don't say anything to deter him. Bass smacks him on the back and tells him to be careful. He promises that they'll follow soon. Connor waves to Charlie as he leaves. She gives him a sad smile and moves closer to Bass. He doesn't know when he'll see them again. He doesn't care anymore. He needs some fresh scenery, even if that scenery is nothing more than a bloody battlefield. He needs to not be around them anymore.

Awakening

Days pass. Weeks.

A new day is dawning. Muted sounds of life are coming from the camp around the tent they share. Charlie wakes slowly, surrounded by the warmth of his arms, enveloped by the scent of him. She smiles because she didn't have a nightmare last night. This has been the first full night since the Boaz incident where she's made it through. She feels rested and almost content. Carefully, she stretches. She is still sore in places, but her body is healing. Her mind is healing too. Every day she feels stronger, better, more alive. She owes it all to Monroe.

Bass Monroe.

She feels him stir behind her. They sleep entwined like this every night – all legs and arms and bodies pressed together - and every night the physical tension grows more intense than it was the night before. They both know what is coming. It is as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow. They are both hesitant to rush into the next phase of this relationship however. They are taking baby steps, waiting till the right moment. Nothing has been said aloud, but they both know it will be soon. It has to be soon. No mortal can survive this level of need for this long without release.

"You slept through," his voice is soft against her ear. She can hear his smile. He dips his head and nips lightly at the base of her throat. His touch is feather light. She shivers as his calloused fingers brush along her shoulder-blade.

"Yeah. It was glorious." She snuggles closer into his spoon, but stops abruptly when she feels his erection, proudly jutting against her hip. He doesn't move. He wants her to know what she does to him. He wants her to know just how much he needs her. They've gone through something like this every day, and every day they get closer to doing something about it. Today feels different. Maybe today is the day… Smiling, she nestles more deeply into his embrace.

He whispers into her ear, lightly scratching the lobe with his scruff, "You are mine, Charlotte. You are mine." She knows she should feel offended or defensive (and old Charlie would have), but this new incarnation of Charlie knows differently. She knows that Monroe is right. She belongs to him, and he to her. His touch becomes more determined, his fingers seek out new territory, and she feels heat course straight through her body as he slides his fingers slowly between her legs. She is so wet, and her core aches for Monroe to enter. Turning her face, Charlie angles her mouth against his. Moaning into the kiss, she struggles to maintain some semblance of calm, but she is losing that battle. His fingers are magic, and she is on the verge of shattering from the inside out, when they are interrupted by the sound of someone approaching.

"Mr. Bass! Mr. Bass" Timothy comes barging into the tent. The little bartender is a fixture around the camp and has proven to be very loyal to Monroe and Charlie both. He doesn't usually enter without announcing himself though. Both Charlie and Bass are immediately at attention – or as 'at attention' as two mostly naked and very aroused people can be at a moment's notice.

"What the hell?" Monroe growls at the little man who has barged into his space. His blue eyes are steely.

Timothy looks mildly chagrined, but doesn't back away. "I'm sorry Mr. Bass. Charlie." He nods to each in turn, ever the polite intruder. "A couple new guys just showed up. They are asking for you like they are old friends, but I don't think they are your friends. I told them nothing… didn't like the look of either one. They seem like trouble." He wrings his stumpy hands together nervously. "After they thought I'd left, I heard them talking. They mean you harm Mr. Bass. They want to kill you."

Monroe is pulling on his clothes, as is Charlie. "You stay here," he says to her. "I'll take care of this – whatever this is."

Her eyes flash. He sees Old Charlie in the fierceness of her stare. "Bullshit. I'm coming. There is no way in hell I'm losing you before we get to finish that" nodding toward the still warm cot, her face softens and she smiles knowingly at him.

He covers the distance between them in a heartbeat and sears her with those blue eyes she's come to love. He kisses her possessively. Timothy looks away. When the kiss ends, they are both breathless with desire once more. "Believe me Charlie; we will be finishing that very soon."

Soon, Bass and Charlie are busy sheathing swords and collecting guns and cross-bows readying for a fight. She looks at their little visitor. "Who are they Timothy? What do they look like? Did you get names?"

Timothy is nodding and shrugging at the same time. It's jarring, but typical weirdness for the guy. "There are two of them. I didn't get names, but the one is older and definitely in charge. The younger one might be his son. Couldn't tell for sure, but there is a resemblance. The older one might be calling the shots, but I got the feeling that the younger one is way crazy." He raises his brows and makes a funny noise in the back of his throat, "I've known my share of crazy. I know what it smells like. That young one reeks like batshit crazy sauce."

"Gotta be the Nevilles," Monroe mutters. "This should be all sorts of fun." He turns to her. Their eyes meet, his gaze is intense, "Charlotte, are you sure you're up for this kind of excitement? I can handle these two if you're not ready."

Charlie smiles coolly – meeting his stare without flinching. "I'm ready."

He holds her gaze, "But you and Jason... there is history there?" He's beating around the bush, but he needs to know for sure that she isn't going to go soft when he needs her to be stone cold Charlie. "We will have to hurt him and his Dad - maybe kill them both." He raises an eyebrow questioningly, "You sure you're up for that?"

"Jason and I do have a history. That's true." She frowns a little, "But you and I - we have a now. We have a tomorrow... hopefully a lot of them. History can't compete with our future, and if they are even considering hurting YOU, I will have no problem killing them both myself." Her voice is strong. Her gaze is direct. She is fully herself again - at least emotionally. She has only been training for the last few days, and he hopes she's up for the fight that is ahead of them. He knows better than to ask. She's not going to appreciate any more doubt on his part.

Even though he worries about her… even though the thought of losing her scares him more than death; he is relieved to see she has her old spark back. He wants to get this Neville business over and done with so that he can explore that spark much more thoroughly – hopefully without interruption. No, correction – there will be no interruptions, period. He'll make sure everyone knows they will die a painful death if anything or anyone gets in their way….

For now, Charlie and Bass have work to do. Timothy exits the tent, Charlie right behind him. Bass brings up the rear and smacks Charlie playfully on the ass. "Let's do this." They smile wickedly at each other, ready for whatever comes next as long as they are able to face it together.

Showdown

The sun beats down on them as they walk carefully through the camp toward the battle they know is brewing. Timothy has told them where the duo are stationed. Of course it's that stupid bar – the same one where Charlie was attacked just several weeks before. There is a moment, a blip, where Charlie hesitates. This is the first time she's been back since that night. Ugly memories rush in but she pushes them off. Monroe is with her. They will conquer this just like they've done so many times before. A shiver runs down her spine, but he puts a hand on her shoulder – steadying her – and she pushes through the flash of fear. They ready their weapons, and enter the bar.

Tom Neville is sitting at a back table, facing the entrance when they walk through the door. In front of him sits an empty glass and a whiskey bottle. Standing, Tom smiles in greeting - as if he has been waiting on this reunion with great anticipation. He appears alone. He smiles and waves them over to his table. "Welcome General Monroe. Miss Mathison." They move closer but they don't sit. He shrugs before casually taking his place on the bench he'd stood from. "Miles and Rachel send their regards from Willoughby." His eyes are steely and mean.

Charlie feels a tightening in her chest. "Are they okay?" She asks before even thinking. Truthfully she's not even sure she cares if Rachel is alive and well; but Miles is a different story. Her heart would break if anything happened to him.

She doesn't even realize she's been holding her breath until he says, "Oh, they're fine… as fine as two love birds can be." Though not what she expected to hear, she is relieved – until his words hit home. "Lovebirds? Really? Well, I guess that was bound to happen sometime."

Bass breaks in, "What are you doing HERE?"

Tom smiles jovially, "Oh, well we're here to kill you, General." And with that, Tom pulls a gun from under the table and points it at Monroe's chest.

On cue, they hear a second gun cocking behind them, and Jason says, "Hey Charlie. It's been a while." Charlie glances at Bass and an unspoken agreement passes between them. Jason is looking at her like a starving man might ogle a steak. His hand appears shaky on the trigger as he slowly licks his lips, looking her up and down. Suddenly Charlie is overwhelmed by this awful place and the memories it holds and by this new threat of violation and death. Timothy was right. Jason is crazy Certianly he isn't the guy she once had feelings for. He's here to kill Monroe, and that is all the reason she needs to put him down. In one swift motion, she raises her cross bow and shoots Jason through the forehead. He crumples, dead to the floor, his gun tumbling loudly after him. Charlie turns from her kill, just in time to see Bass shoving a sword through a very surprised Tom Neville's heart. Guns or no guns, Tom Neville & his son are no match for a determined Bass Monroe and Charlie Mathison combo.

"That was sort of easy, even for us." Bass smiles at her, pulling his weapon from Tom's body with a sucking gush.

"Can we get out of here already?" Charlie is a little shaky, but she manages a wavering smile in return. They meet Timothy on the way out.

"Clean up in aisle four," Bass chuckles, laying his arm around Charlie's shoulders. The small man shrugs past the couple, and makes his way inside. He knows how to clean up messes like this. He's certainly done it before.

Author's Note: So, another chapter in fairly quick order. I guess I'm not a very patient person. Ha! If you have a minute - leave a review. I love to hear from you.

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