A/N: Ok, the real notes are at the end. I didn't want to give too much away.
It had been ten weeks since he'd shirked the name Sebastian Monroe and had taken up the identity of Michael Andrews. Because of the incident when he'd first arrived, he rarely went into town. When it was unavoidable, he'd kept to himself as much as possible and had never again stepped foot in the local bar. On occasion the patriots had passed through and being seen was the last thing he wanted, nor did he want to refresh any accusations in the minds of the locals. By some miracle, the men who had initially tried to have him arrested had not mentioned his presence to anyone in tan – yet. For that, Monroe was grateful.
The last harvest was finally in, and true to his word, Daniel had paid him well for it. Monroe now had enough to last through the winter in case he decided to move on. He knew leaving would be safer for both himself and Daniel. It was only a matter of time before someone learned of his presence here, but he wasn't ready to leave yet.
Of course, he tried to deny that his reasons for staying on had anything to do with his attachment to the farm and its owner. Instead he convinced himself the reason he stayed was because Daniel needed him here. The man was pushing eighty and had no business going out in the cold to tend the animals. Not when Monroe was around and could do it for him. And they got on well together. Daniel's gruff bluntness rivaled Monroe's own. The way he went about life with no tolerance for nonsense always seemed to put Monroe at ease. There were no hidden agendas or concealed resentments. And after spending those months with the Mathesons with so much thinly veiled hatred, it was a comfort to know exactly where he stood and why.
In the evenings, Daniel was content to share his bourbon (and the man could make some good bourbon) and talk about the past, and simply let Monroe listen. Monroe suspected he was just happy for the company and the chance to talk about his life's story, to pass it on to someone. And in all honesty, he really didn't mind. The man had led an interesting if not simple life. He'd taken life's ups and downs in a way that Monroe could only admire. There were no regrets, no resentments. To Daniel, things just were.
He'd adapted to the blackout in a way that just demanded respect. Where others had panicked and faltered, they'd just adapted. Daniel had told him that they'd always spared a few acres for more traditional farming methods. It was extra work, but it had also brought a small trickle of tourists eager to see how the land used to be farmed long ago. That and he admitted that he just damn well enjoyed it. The knowledge and equipment had proved vital to keeping the farm up and running at full capacity when their combines and tractors would no longer function. He'd always kept a variety of livestock, even if the numbers were small. It had been done more out of tradition and for the benefit of tourists than profit, but this too had helped him to prosper later.
More than once his farm had helped to save a good portion of the surrounding community from starvation in the years that had passed since the blackout. In return, he'd kept the admiration and respect of most of his neighbors and was able to get the help he needed during spring planting and the fall harvest to get the most out of his fields. It had only been in the last few years that he found himself relying specifically on that help.
He'd married for the first time when he was not much younger than Monroe was now. His marriage had produced two sons. His younger son had signed up with Georgia's army the first chance he got, while his older son had stayed on to continue helping with the farm.
When the blackout hit, they'd had a full staff of ten farmhands. Slowly their number had dwindled. Some joined the army when things escalated between Georgia and the Republic. A few had gone off to start their own farms when free land became plentiful. The last two had died along with Daniel's oldest son four years ago when influenza had hit the area hard. His wife had died the previous winter. His youngest son had been in killed in battle in Virginia. Daniel's daughter-in-law and granddaughters had still been in Atlanta when the bombs dropped.
Monroe had once asked Daniel why he didn't hold his son's death against him. The old man had simply replied that he'd always felt that Monroe and Foster were both to blame. He could see why Monroe wanted Virginia. It all came down to food. The growing season was shorter up north and the population higher. "Never understood why the two of you never got your heads out your asses and tried to work together though," he'd said.
It was almost ironic that they were both alone in the world, but had dealt with it so differently. Monroe remembered how low he'd gotten when his parents and sisters were killed. He hadn't been able to cope with that loss, and it had continued to haunt him until he'd met Shelly. Even though he couldn't remember, he knew from what he'd learned in that damned notebook that he'd handled the loss of Shelly and the baby no better. Quite frankly it didn't surprise him. But Daniel had just carried on, and a part of Monroe envied him that.
Monroe had long since made peace with the fact that he was never going to recover his past, and had finally admitted to himself that he didn't want to. The loss of his friendship with Miles still hurt, but he'd accepted it. One a particularly shitty day, over a glass of whiskey Daniel had told him to stop being an ass and just move on. From that night on, he'd been determined to do just that. So he'd thrown himself in to his work here. During his recovery, he'd lost quite a bit of weight and muscle mass from the inactivity. After ten weeks of hard labor on the farm, he'd regained what he'd lost and then some. Despite everything, he was probably in the best physical condition in his life (and if his body ached a little at the end of the day, so be it). And surprisingly enough, he was content here.
He was repairing a fence in one of the fields, cursing the goat under his breath. Weeks ago, he'd decided to name the animal Dickhead. It just seemed to fit. This time Dickhead had decided to kick out several sections of the fence before making his actual escape. It was here that the comfortable world he'd made for himself would slowly cave in around him.
The dog he'd rescued panted lazily a few feet away as Monroe finished prying off the remnants of the broken board in this section of the fence. Out of nowhere, the dog stood up and let out a low, whining growl. Monroe looked up and saw too figures approaching from the dirt road that bordered the field. He'd found it odd, because the only time he'd ever heard the animal growl was when he'd first found him.
He watched them approach warily as he went back to work. The sense of foreboding he'd felt when he'd first seen them steadily increased as the distance between them waned. He kept his head down when he realized who it was that approached. They must have recognized him, because their pace increased.
The dog growled again and then whined as he rose and got in between Monroe and the intruders. He placed his paws on the fence, and looked up as if looking for reassurance. "Down Brodie," he said quietly. "They're friends – sort of." The dog cocked its head as if thinking about the command before it obeyed. Returning his paws to the ground the dog went to lie back down, albeit closer to Monroe.
"Monroe?" Aaron Pittman said as he finally reached him. 'What are you doing here?"
Monroe had finished removing the broken board, and was now straddling the fence to hold the new one in place with his knees as he began the process of nailing it in place. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm fixing a fence."
"Um, why?" Aaron asked.
Monroe looked up from his task. "Because it's broken. Why else would I be fixing it?" He gave Aaron a look that showed him just how stupid he thought the question was.
Aaron and Priscilla watched him for several minutes. Finished, Monroe jumped down and tested the board before he picked up his tools and headed towards the next broken section of the fence. "The question is what are you doing here?" He finally asked as he began to rip the nails out of the next piece.
"Looking for you," Priscilla said in that strange way she always seemed to have about her.
Yep, she's still creepy, Monroe thought to himself. "And why would you be doing that? I think it's fairly clear that I'm a monster and a bastard. You all have no use for me, even if I can't remember."
Feeling useless, Aaron reached out to hold the next board in place as Monroe started to secure it. "So you haven't gotten any of your memories back?"
"Nope," he said curtly as he dug another nail out of his shirt pocket and started hammering it in.
"Well it doesn't matter. We've come to bring you back. Well, not exactly back. We've moved on – to Louisiana," Aaron explained.
"Why?"
Their task completed, Monroe retrieved the broken boards for firewood. He let out a shrill whistle and Brodie jumped up and began to follow as Monroe led Aaron and Priscilla back towards the house. Aaron found himself out of breath trying to match Monroe's pace. He found himself hating how fast the man walked. "Because you're needed."
They reached the end of the field and were almost to the yard surrounding the house and outbuildings. "No, I'm not. I'm happy here. Why can't you just go away and let me be?" He stomped across the yard to the house, leaving Aaron to stare for a few minutes before he got himself moving again. As he followed, the dog raced past them both and leaped onto the porch.
Daniel had come out of the house, wiping his hands on a towel. He'd just finished making lunch and had just been about to ring the bell to let Monroe know. "Friends of yours, Michael?" He asked cautiously as he saw the visitors.
Monroe dropped the boards by the woodpile and set the tools on the porch before walking to the pump to wash the grime from his hands. "Daniel, meet Beardy McGee and his very creepy girlfriend," He gestured towards them as he grabbed the towel from Daniel to dry off. "They know who I am, so we can drop the alias," he said as he went inside the house with Brodie hot on his heels.
The old man considered them for a second. He agreed that there was something off about the woman, but the portly man before him seemed harmless enough. "Well come on inside then. Hungry?" He held the screen door open for them. After eating in relative silence, Daniel ushered them all into the living room. He had a feeling that his new farmhand would be leaving very soon.
Settled, Monroe and Aaron stared each other down for quite a while. "Listen Monroe, we came because it's important," Aaron began.
"Can't you just leave it?" Monroe cut him off. He didn't want to hear it. He'd let it all go, and now here they were insisting on undoing all of that.
Priscilla had been staring at him strangely ever since she'd stepped foot in the house. The longer her eyes bore into him, the more uncomfortable he became. "Maybe it's time that he remembered," she said cryptically.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Aaron leaned forward on his seat. "Rachel never told you how the blackout happened. You knew before that she helped cause it, but she'd never explained to you the science behind it."
Interested despite is increasing unease, Monroe leaned in. He couldn't help to be curious. "How do you know about it?"
Aaron spent the next several minutes explaining about the nanotech – how it worked and how it had caused the blackout. He then went on to explain what exactly had happened at the tower, leaving nothing out.
"So these invisible little robots are everywhere, can read our thoughts and are basically alive? You really expect me to believe that?" He couldn't help but laugh. It was beyond ridiculous.
Priscilla got off the loveseat and knelt in front of him. Brodie jumped up and approached with a growl. Daniel reached out and grabbed him by the leather strap that served as a collar. "Your brain was broken. Your memories are not there. We can fix the parts that don't work right," her voice was creepier than normal.
Monroe started to rise. Something about the way that she was staring at him now truly terrified him. Before he could move, her hands reached up and grabbed his head with unexpected strength. "This will hurt," she said as she held him there.
After several minutes she released him. "There, the damage has been repaired." She had that strange grin plastered back on her face, and her tone was disturbingly happy and upbeat.
He looked from Priscilla to Aaron skeptically. "That was supposed to do something? Hurt?"
Priscilla rose, still smiling as she returned to her previous perch. "Wait," was all she said.
"Okay then. This has been fun. Creepy – but fun," Monroe said as he stood up to leave the room. He only got a few feet when suddenly a wave of pain and dizziness overwhelmed him. He crumpled to the floor as image after image flooded into his mind like a tsunami. Every lost moment hit him like a freight train as he was forced to relive everything that had been lost before, feeling each memory as if it was just happening for the first time.
No longer noticing the others in the room, he pushed himself away and slid into the corner by the front door. Monroe huddled there for quite some time before he reached up behind him for the doorknob. Turning it, he opened the door and crawled out. The sound of his retching was close enough to confirm to everyone inside that he'd barely made it out before his stomach had revolted.
Brodie stood at the closed door, pawing at it as he whined. Daniel had jumped to his feet to go after him before he thought better of it. He was still having trouble believing what had happened right before his eyes, but if he saw what he thought he saw the he knew Monroe needed to be alone. He watched these strange guests carefully. Aaron seemed to be genuinely concerned. Priscilla just sat on the couch with her eyes closed and that half smile on her face.
After a while, Aaron decided to check on Monroe. He got to his feet and headed towards the door, when Daniel's words stopped him. "Leave him be a while." Something in the old man's tone sent Aaron back to the loveseat, where all three of them waited in silence. A few hours later, Monroe finally reappeared. He looked tired. The hardness that had been missing since he'd come out of that coma had returned. He passed by them and went into the kitchen. He returned moments later with a bottle of Daniel's famous bourbon. He'd at least had the courtesy to bring several glasses.
He set them down on the coffee table as he took his seat. He poured a drink, shooting it down with one swallow before immediately pouring another for himself and the old man. "Why would you do this to me?" he asked as he passed Daniel the glass.
"So you could have your memories back. You're welcome," Aaron replied. The coldness of the general was back, and Aaron admitted to himself that he was more than a little afraid.
"You son of a bitch. Why would I ever want to remember all of that?" He spoke through clenched teeth. Before anyone could react, he'd set the glass down and leapt over to where Aaron was seated. Monroe grabbed him roughly by his shirt, pulling him to his feet. Cocking his head at him, Monroe was in the process of deciding if he just wanted to hit Staypuffed or go all out and break his neck when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"That's enough, Sebastian." Daniel's voice was quiet but firm. Monroe stilled for a second, and (much to Aaron's surprise) let him go. Daniel sat back down and picked up his drink. "Maybe it was time. Deep down, you know it."
Monroe backed away from Aaron and sat back down in the chair across from him. He leaned on the armrest, resting his head in his hand for several minutes as he tried to decide where to go from here. Aaron still sat in aw that a quiet word from this old farmer had calmed the beast within. He'd seen Miles get Monroe to back down before, but it had always been done begrudgingly. This was different, like Monroe actually valued what Daniel had to say.
"So, Miles sent you to find me then?" Monroe finally asked, wearily.
"No. Miles and Rachel are in Oklahoma somewhere trying to make the Patriots' lives difficult," Aaron explained. "Connor went with them," he added, knowing what Monroe's next question was likely to be.
Monroe reached for his glass. Slouching back in the chair, he swirled the amber liquid around for a few seconds before taking a drink. "Then what do you want from me, other than to ruin my life?"
"We came here to find you because of Charlie."
"Charlie?" Monroe sat up straight again, clearly confused. "Why would she –" he cut himself off as he remembered the condition she was in when he'd left. "How is she?"
Aaron looked away uncomfortably. "Not great, last we saw her. The doc has her on bed rest. He said she's having complications since she caught some kind of fever that was going around." He finally took the opportunity to help himself to a drink. He was waiting for Monroe to connect the dots. He was praying he didn't have to spell it out for him, because this was embarrassing enough.
Monroe could tell Aaron expected something of him, but he hadn't quite figured it out. "When was the last time you saw her?"
Aaron counted on his fingers, "Like three weeks, I guess. That's about how long it took us to get here."
Monroe suddenly felt sick again. "Aaron, if it's been that long, she could be –"
Priscilla spoke up now. She'd been listening, experiencing up until this point. "She lives still."
Monroe had been doing his best to forget that Priscilla was not in the room. So quiet had she been that her voice almost made him jump. "How can you know that?"
She locked eyes with him, that creepy smile still on her face. "We are everywhere, we can see everything."
Monroe downed his drink and grabbed the bottle to pour another, desperate for the numbing effect that only a good buzz could provide. "What's this got to do with me?"
"Please don't make me say it out loud," Aaron whined. "It's just too weird as it is."
With so much jumbled up in his head, he hadn't seen it immediately. Monroe nearly dropped his glass as he realized the truth. "Why didn't she tell me?" He asked it to himself as much as to Aaron, his voice showing how wounded by this he truly was.
"Well, you can ask her when you get there," Aaron said flatly.
Monroe sat back quietly for a while, thinking. He flicked his eyes towards Daniel questioningly, receiving the slightest of nods in response. With a sigh, he stood. "Well come on then. I'll show you where you can bed down for the night. We leave at first light. I've got some work to do still before nightfall."
After showing Aaron and this strange Not-Priscilla (as he'd decided to call her from here on out) to a spare room down the hall, he headed out to tend the animals. The horses and cows needed feeding. Plus, he still had to find Dickhead the goat in the fields. He returned to the house with Brodie right before Daniel had dinner ready. The night passed without sleep for Monroe.
A/N (for reals): I've yes, I've decided to include the nano, if you hadn't guessed by my alluding to Priscilla's creepiness in other chapters. I've also decided that the Nano is going to be frighteningly sadistic in a childlike way. I think that based off of previews from the show, this is the direction that they are going to take it anyways, but mine might be a little to the extreme. There aren't a whole lot of fics out there that include the nano as a side plot, and I thought "Hey, here's an excellent device to make the story move in any direction I want! Yay!) I think it was complicated enough to create an entire OC character with a background and personality and everything without having to work out a slow progression of Monroe's memory returning. So, yep the Nano did it for him – in the most sadistic and painful way possible, of course. So I hope you'll all forgive me for taking the easy way out of the amnesia mess. The Nano will have some fun in the next few chapters I promise. And although I'm not 100% sure if this story will continue on long enough for Daniel to make a reappearance (I've got the end written but I could sequel it later or add. Dunno yet, it might make it too cheesy if I do), his presence thus far will have a profound effect I think on how Monroe acts and reacts to life from here on out. Thank you all for previous comments and faves/follows. Always nice to read what you think. (Insert plea for feedback here).
