A/N: WARNING: Parts of this will be hard to read, but keep in mind that this is NOT the last chapter! I have a happy ending in mind - Charloe should always get to have happy endings! :D

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed/favorited/kudoed, etc. and to everyone who's still with me.

Enjoy! :D

The Future is Ours

"Wakey, wakey, General." The drawling voice drew Monroe from unconsciousness; it seemed... so familiar, but sounded so far away.

"Mmmm," Monroe groaned as he stirred, realizing he was lying face down on a hard surface, probably the floor, and that his head and jaw were throbbing; he gingerly moved his hand to the side of his head, wincing when he found a bump there. The last thing he remembered was... Miles punching him... apparently, he'd hit his head on the way down. He slowly turned to his side, opened his eyes, and blinked a few times attempting to clear his vision and find the source of the voice. All he could see in the dimly lit room was the blurry silhouette of a man crouching on the floor a few feet away. 'Jeremy?'

"There you are," the man said soothingly, his voice sounding normal now, "Looks like Miles clocked you good," he added with a soft chuckle.

Monroe blinked a few more times and his vision was finally clear enough to see the man was definitely Jeremy, still dressed in his Militia uniform... the one he was wearing when... In a moment of instinctive panic at the reminder, he sat up too quickly, making his head swim. He managed to brace himself against the side of the armchair before he could flop back down.

"Easy, sir," Jeremy said concerned, moving closer and reaching out with both hands, as if to steady him, but not quite touching.

"I killed you," Monroe said weakly, looking at Jeremy. He wasn't as afraid as he'd been when he first saw Ben earlier, but he couldn't figure out why Jeremy would be on board for this. Of all the ghosts who'd haunted him that night, Jeremy was the only one he'd actually ordered killed. "Don't you want payback?" Monroe asked incredulously.

"No," Jeremy said thoughtfully, shaking his head, his expression serious, "Don't get me wrong, sir, I still say you're insane," his voice grew louder, "and I'm still a little bitter that you actually believed I would try to kill you!" He took a deep breath before continuing at a lower volume, "But, I still believe in what you and Miles set out to build..." he trailed off, looking down. Monroe sat there looking at Jeremy, speechless.

After a long moment Jeremy looked back up, his expression softer, "Being dead, it's really quite... liberating,"

"Huh?" Monroe asked, his mouth hanging open. He'd never expected Jeremy, or anyone for that matter, to say something like that.

Jeremy chuckled softly before his face went serious again, "Right here and now," he pointed down at the floor emphatically, "I can do more to serve the Republic than I ever did when I was alive."

Monroe opened his mouth to say something, though he didn't know what, but Jeremy stopped him, "I have a lot to say, sir. Please let me finish," he said patiently. Monroe nodded absently.

"I could've done more to help you stay sane after Miles left, but I didn't," he said contritely. I saw him as a traitor and wanted us to go after him, hard, so I let you get out of control." He took a deep breath as if bracing himself, "I had no idea you'd become so power-hungry," he choked out, barely above a whisper "but that's why Flynn chose you over Foster, Carver, or even Affleck," Jeremy lowered his head for a few seconds, as if it'd been difficult to say. Looking back up, "Helping you now is my chance to make up for that," he said solemnly. Monroe knew Jeremy wasn't to blame; becoming someone a weasel like Flynn could manipulate was his own fault. He wanted to say so but Jeremy went on before he could.

"I've been watching you with Charlie," Jeremy smiled slightly, "and I have reason to believe that things could get better for you and the Republic." Monroe sat up higher, eager to hear more, "She's the best thing to happen to you since...," he paused as if catching himself before saying something he shouldn't, "in years." he corrected, but Monroe knew what he'd been about to say: Shelley. "She's good for you."

His throbbing head forgotten, Monroe sprang up off the floor using the chair for support, causing Jeremy to stand up too and take a few steps back. "Thank you!" Monroe exclaimed, relieved, flinging a hand out in front of him for emphasis, He'd tell Jeremy how he wasn't to blame, later; finally hearing one of the ghosts argue for Charlotte being with him was more important in that moment. "Everyone else wants me to let her go." He looked up at the ceiling, "You hear that, Miles? Ben? Nora?" he called out, "I need her! She has to stay!"

Jeremy's voice interrupted Monroe's elation, "You misunderstand me, sir," he said firmly, "You definitely need to let her go." Monroe made to protest, but Jeremy cut him off, leaning closer and lowering his voice conspiratorially, "But maybe you could give her a reason to choose to stay?" he said, winking as he leaned away. Monroe gaped at Baker, that idea had never occurred to him. He wondered what he could offer Charlotte to make her want to stay with him and, hopefully, eventually, love him. Deep down, he knew it had to involve giving Rachel and Danny their freedom, but for Charlotte to be willing to stay, they'd have to want to stay too. 'How do I get them all to choose to stay?'

Jeremy glanced over his shoulder at the clock; Monroe followed his gaze and saw it was 3:10AM; he'd only been out a few minutes. "Shall we, sir?" Jeremy reached for Monroe's hand, as if to shake it, "Time's a wastin'," he drawled.

Monroe wasn't looking forward to seeing the future, he dreaded confirmation of his death, among other things, but he if he was going to stay ahead of the Patriots he still needed to know when it would happen. After a few seconds' hesitation, Monroe took Jeremy's offered hand and his quarters faded away once more.

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Monroe and Jeremy were in his office, standing in front of his desk. It was very different from when he last saw it; that stood to reason, he was seeing what it'd be like a year into the future, but it felt different too, as if it wasn't even his office anymore. Some of his furniture had been moved or replaced altogether, and a pre-Blackout artificial Christmas tree had been set up in front of one of the windows. It was decorated with an assortment of glass and metal ornaments that'd seen better days and lit candles were fastened to some of the branches, their light reflecting off the darkened window. The tree itself was still in good shape and it would've been pretty, but its presence without any other decorations in the large room made it seem like an afterthought. Monroe wondered where they'd found it, he'd never decorated for any holiday, so it couldn't have been from storage.

Monroe shrugged off his idle musings and moved away from the desk to get a better look at the room's current occupants; Randall Flynn, Becky Simpson, John Sanborn, and three men and two women he didn't know were sitting around the large table he used for conferences and informal meals with his senior officers. One of the men was sitting at the head of the table, in his chair, as if he owned the place! Monroe guessed he must be their leader and he was sure he'd seen him somewhere before, but couldn't remember where.

They were enjoying a traditional dinner of roast turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and other vegetables. It was obviously a celebration, and since neither his future self, nor any Militia, nor anyone Monroe cared about was in the room, he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't only in honor of Christmas, but his death too.

As Monroe stood there thinking, Jeremy came up beside him, making him jump: of course he hadn't heard his approach, 'I wish they'd stop doing that!' Monroe turned toward him and crossed his arms, giving Jeremy an annoyed scowl.

Unfazed, Jeremy grinned, "This is just like 'Back to the Future 2'!" he said enthusiastically.

Monroe sighed resignedly and shook his head, 'Jeremy, and his movie references!' Jeremy's tendency to be nerdy often amused him, but Monroe was in no mood for pre-Blackout pop culture. Baker just shrugged, still smiling, and put his hands in his coat pockets. Monroe realized Jeremy was right, though. He really was seeing the future, and he would be able to change it, though whether by outsmarting or destroying the Patriots, he hadn't decided, yet.

Getting his mind back on the present, Monroe shuddered inwardly at the realization that if he was dead in this future, then Charlotte probably was too. "Where's Charlotte?" his voice wavered slightly, unable to keep the dread of Jeremy's answer from showing.

"Patience, sir," Jeremy said sardonically, "She's alive and I'll take you to see her when we're done here." Annoyed at Jeremy's tone, and not entirely convinced, Monroe raised a suspicious eyebrow, "I promise," Jeremy added firmly. Satisfied, Monroe turned back to watch the celebration. This was a chance to study his counterpart and he should take advantage of it.

As if on cue, two servants entered through the side door and immediately went about refilling the diners' wine glasses. When they were finished and left the room, the man at the head of the table cleared his throat loudly, picked up his own glass, and held it up as if to make a toast. All the guests instantly stopped talking, as if they were afraid not to, and turned toward him, raising their own glasses.

"I'll keep this short, gentleman," he said with a slight chuckle, "ladies," he added as if in afterthought, nodding in the general direction of the women present. "I'll save want I to say about our nation's rebirth, and Christmas being our new Independence Day for my big speech tomorrow," he proclaimed, "but tonight, I want to offer a toast to... Sebastian Monroe," there was a mix of looks around the table ranging from surprise to scorn as he paused, presumably for effect. "We still have resistance from Texas and California to deal with," he said with obvious contempt, "but, thanks to Monroe's help," he said jeeringly, "the hardest part is over. The continent will be ours within the year." He raised his glass a little higher, "To Sebastian Monroe and all the other useful idiots who helped make the new United States possible." Monroe felt a surge of anger at being ridiculed by these people, his fists clenching at his sides.

Everyone at the table clinked their glasses together, "To Sebastian Monroe," they chorused

The main continued before anyone could take a drink, "What a beautiful thing it was to see him hanging from the end of a rope yesterday," the man added, smirking. Everyone at the table laughed, "Hear, Hear," and drank. 'So, I have until next Christmas,' Monroe noted. Now he knew when to expect it, he'd be ready.

As Monroe stood glaring at his 'nemesis', he crossed him arms in front of him and put a hand on his chin contemplatively, wincing when his fingertips brushed the spot where Miles had punched him. Monroe was more angry with the man than he was upset by the knowledge his Republic was gone. He thought about what he would do to him once he got everything he wanted and really wished Rachel hadn't killed Strausser.

He needed a name to go with the object of his ire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeremy take a step closer, as if sensing Monroe was about to ask him a question. Giving Jeremy a sideways glance, not taking his eyes fully from the man, "Who exactly is this douchebag?"

Jeremy chuckled as he crossed his arms in front of him and nodded toward said 'douchebag', "That is one Jack Davis; former Secretary of Defense and self-appointed president of the United States." Monroe realized that's why he'd thought Davis looked familiar, serving in the military meant knowing who was in charge. He glanced at Jeremy hoping he'd elaborate; Jeremy nodded in understanding, "After the real President and Speaker went down in Air Force One," Monroe cringed, remembering the horrible sight of planes falling from the sky the night the Blackout hit, "he had the VP and everyone else in the line of succession ahead of him killed."

"Mmm," Monroe couldn't help but be impressed by the extent of Davis' ambition. He distractedly drew a finger across his bottom lip, "What else can you tell me about him and the others here?" he made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"Nothing you can't find out for yourself from interrogating Flynn and his team," Jeremy said matter-of-factly. Monroe scowled at him again, but Jeremy just looked defiant, "And you need to interrogate them, ASAP, before Flynn can send to Gitmo for these people," he gestured in the general direction of the table, "Like, first thing in the morning, General," Jeremy added firmly. Jeremy was clearly withholding information, trying to goad Monroe to action.

Before Monroe could even think about protesting Jeremy's evasiveness, the office's main doors opened and a man dressed all in khaki, right down to his boots, entered and walked, almost marching, up to Davis.

"We have him, sir," he said smiling gleefully. Monroe recognized him; he'd been in the Militia under Strausser's command, and he wondered just how many of his men the Patriots had already turned in the present.

Davis quickly swallowed the wine he had in his mouth and wiped it with his napkin, "Good work, Sergeant Wilson. Ask Major Neville to join us, and then bring in our other guest," he said meaningfully.

"Yes sir!" Wilson said, smiling knowingly before turning and walk-marching back out of the room.

"Well, it seems I have some business to attend to with Victor and Randall," Davis announced, exchanging knowing looks with the two men. "As a special thank you to you all," Davis gestured with both hands to everyone at the table, "I've ordered something special for dessert," he said magnanimously. "Roger, would you show everyone to the library?" he said looking to the man on his right. He nodded and stood up, looking slightly put out, as the others murmured their 'thank yous' and got up from their seats, and began leaving the room. "We'll join you shortly," Davis called after them. Davis, Flynn, and the man he called Victor remained seated at the table, leaving the seat Roger vacated empty, presumably for Neville.

Monroe wondered how long he'd have to wait; he wanted to see what else Jeremy needed him to see, but he was getting antsy. Right when he was about to tell Jeremy he'd had enough, Tom Neville entered the office. He was wearing the same all-khaki uniform as Wilson; apparently, he'd fully switched sides.

As Neville walked toward Davis, Monroe moved to stand on the left side of the table so he could watch both men more closely. Monroe watched as Neville quickly scanned the food and empty plates around the table before stopping to stand at attention. Monroe thought he saw... resentment? in his eyes for just a second, apparently he hadn't been invited to the party.

Jeremy moved to Tom's left, looked him up and down, shook his head, and leaned toward him threateningly, "Traitor!" he sneered, "I never liked you." He leaned back, crossing his arms disgustedly in front of him, and made his way over to stand beside Monroe. Monroe couldn't help but smile at his friend; he hated that son of a bitch too.

Monroe saw Wilson stick his head in the door and nod at Davis as if giving a signal, leaving it open a crack behind him. Neville seemed uneasy for a moment as if he saw the slight change in Davis' expression, but he recovered quickly; Neville was a master.

"You asked to see me, Mr. President?" Tom asked, his tone eager. Monroe couldn't put his finger on it, but something told him Neville was hiding something and he wondered if Davis could tell too.

"Yes, Tom," Davis answered cordially, "It's time we discussed your future with us." Neville seemed to brighten and relax, probably thinking he was about to be promoted.

"Where are my manners?" Davis drawled, apparently realizing Tom was still standing at attention. "Please," Davis said pleasantly, indicating the empty chair next to him.

"Thank you, sir," Neville said smiling as he sat down.

"Would you like a drink?" Davis made to reach for a wine bottle still on the table.

Tom smiled sweetly, "No, thank you, sir," he answered politely.

Davis raised an eyebrow and shrugged slightly, "How's your wife?" With the mention of Julia, Monroe couldn't help wonder if she was already banging Davis. Julia Neville would do anything or anyone to advance her and Tom's position; she'd even come on to him, and Miles too, once when Tom was away. Monroe admired her willingness to do anything for her family's sake, but he was never interested in his officers' wives.

"She's good," Tom answered. "She's been busy getting the house ready for Christmas tomorrow," he grinned.

Davis nodded approvingly, "And Jason? I haven't seen him around the last few days," Davis sounded concerned, but Monroe could tell he was fishing. The 'brightness' left Neville for a second, and Monroe knew whatever Tom was hiding had to do with Jason.

"He's been a little under the weather," Tom said conversationally.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Davis said apologetically, "Give him my best, won't you?" Monroe could see Davis wasn't buying that Jason was sick and he was pretty sure Neville knew it too.

After a long moment of apparently studying Neville, Davis spoke again, "We have a problem, Tom. Someone broke into Mrs. Monroe's quarters last night. Any idea who might be responsible?" there was a dangerous edge to Davis' voice as though he already knew the answer.

Monroe saw a moment's panic in Neville's eyes before he answered, "No sir," he lied smoothly. He was enjoying watching Neville squirm. Monroe noticed Flynn and the other man 'casually' watching Neville as if they might be enjoying it too.

"Maybe Julia... or Jason... know something? We're asking everyone," Davis added as if to put Neville more at ease.

"No sir," Neville's voice wavered so slightly that Monroe wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't paying attention.

Davis' face changed as if he'd noticed too and was already tired of playing the game; he clearly didn't like being lied to, "Cut the crap, Tom. We know it was Jason," he said dangerously, "trying to help Mrs. Monroe," he sneered, "and her children escape justice."

Bass heard everything Davis said, he'd even noticed the tone he'd used when mentioning Charlotte, but one word stood out. He looked at Jeremy, "Children?" he asked incredulously, his mouth agape. He knew Charlotte would eventually become pregnant - he wasn't even trying to prevent it - but children, plural?

Jeremy grinned broadly, "Yup, twins! One each," he said happily, "They'd be about 3-and-a-half months old," he added helpfully. Bass's heart leapt at the thought of them, and of Charlotte surviving their births. He was finally going to be a father and soon.

Bass did the math in his head, "That means Charlotte's pregnant now?" he said excitedly, it was more statement than question.

"Yes. But it's so early, even she doesn't know for sure yet," Jeremy said. Bass was already looking forward to being there for all the important moments: Helping Charlotte through the discomforts and anxieties of pregnancy, seeing their children born and taking their first breaths, actually being a dad...

Monroe was shaken from his happy thoughts by a commotion near the door. Sometime while he'd been distracted, Wilson had returned with two other zombies in khaki. They were surrounding a battered and handcuffed Jason Neville slumped on his knees on the floor. Davis, Flynn, and Victor were standing in front of him, and Wilson had somehow disarmed Neville and was holding a gun on him. Monroe and Jeremy both moved closer to get a better look.

Tom, ignoring the gun aimed at him, went to his son, falling to his knees in front of him and putting his hands on his shoulders, "What did you do, boy?" he yelled in his face.

Jason ignored his father and looked up at Flynn, "You told me she'd be safe if I helped you!" his speech slurred by a split and swollen lip. Wilson roughly pulled Tom back up, he tried to resist until Wilson aimed his gun at Jason; the not-so-veiled threat making Tom give up.

Flynn looked down at Jason smirking maliciously, "And you were dumb enough to believe me."

Davis took a step closer to Jason and looked down at him, "We can't let her go free just so she can rally Monroe loyalists behind her, son " he said firmly. Davis nodded to the guards beside Jason and they pulled him roughly to his feet.

"Charlie wouldn't do that!" Jason spat, "She never loved him!" he insisted.

"By trying to break them out," Davis continued, completely ignoring Jason's words, "all you did was make it so they spend their last days in a filthy," he said disgustedly, "but more secure, jail cell. And we had to move up their execution too. Secretly, of course; we can't have martyrs either," he added with contempt.

"NO!" Jason shouted at Davis, struggling against his bonds and the men holding him.

Davis turned his gaze back to Tom, "We appreciate all you've done for the New United States, Tom. But we won't be needing your services any longer." Two more men came in and moved to stand on either side of Neville.

Turning to Jason, "We forgive you Jason. You were just blinded by a pretty face. It happens to the best of us," he said condescendingly.

"What're you going to do with him?" Tom choked out, apparently not concerned about his own fate.

"Mr. Doyle will take good care of him," Davis said gesturing to Victor. He'll make a fine cadet," he said proudly.

"NO!" Tom spat, "you said Jason-." The angry look Davis gave him effectively cut him off.

"I lied," Davis sneered as Tom and Jason were dragged from the room.

With everything he'd just witnessed, Monroe was more anxious than ever to see Charlotte. He didn't know what he could do to help her here, but maybe he could learn something that would help him keep his Charlotte safe in the present while he worked with Flynn. He turned to Jeremy, almost getting in his face, "Take me to see her now, Captain," he ordered.

"Yes sir," Jeremy said, putting his hand on Monroe's shoulder; the room began to disappear.

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Monroe and Jeremy were now standing in an empty, unlocked cell in the jail where most of the Republic's high-level prisoners were held and interrogated. Monroe could see Charlotte, Rachel, and the twins in an adjacent cell through the bars that separated them. Charlotte was sitting on the cot feeding the baby in her arms, rocking and humming softly, while Rachel slowly paced the small cell cuddling the other, murmuring softly. They both appeared happy on the surface, but he knew it had to be for the sake of the children. Looking into Charlotte's eyes as she looked up at her mother for a moment, he could see that, inside, she'd given up. Monroe wished Jason had succeeded in rescuing them, even though it would've put his wife and children in the Neville's hands.

From where he stood, all Monroe could see of his children were the wispy blonde curls on their heads. He gripped the bars separating the two cells with both hands until his knuckles turned white, desperately wanting to get a better look at his family. Turning to Jeremy, "Why are we-"

Jeremy cut him off, "First, that cell," tilting his head toward it, "is too small for all of us to fit comfortably and still let you get a good look at your family. And second," he paused for a moment as if he didn't want to say the rest, "after the last time you were around Rachel, we thought it best to keep you separated."

Monroe raised an eyebrow, "We?"

"OK," Jeremy shrugged, "it was Miles' idea. Not that you could actually hurt her here," he shrugged again, "You know... These are but shadows...yada yada...," he deadpanned.

Jeremy pointed to the baby Charlotte was holding, "That's Nora Margaret," he said, effectively changing the subject. Moving his hand to the baby in Rachel arms, "and that's Sebastian William Monroe, Jr," he said with a flourish. Monroe was overcome with pride that his son would carry on his name.

Monroe sat heavily onto the cot next to him, his eyes never leaving his family. He desperately wanted to hold his children, but he remembered how his hands had passed through Rachel earlier, and what Jeremy had said about this being like Back to the Future 2 - he was only seeing a possible future; his Nora and Sebastian were still growing inside their mother. The family he was seeing here represented what would happen if he failed to outsmart the Patriots.

As Monroe sat there thinking about family, he suddenly realized something was amiss, "Where's Danny?" he asked quietly, looking up at Jeremy, bracing himself for the answer he suspected was coming.

Jeremy leaned against the bars and sighed sadly, his arms crossed in front of him, "He died four months ago when Flynn's people caused him to have a fatal asthma attack," he said disgustedly. "Danny wasn't fit to be one of their cadets and he didn't meet the new American ideal," he said scathingly, "so they offed him."

Something else to hate the Patriots for, "He didn't even get to meet his niece and nephew," Monroe said sadly, as he lowered his head. "Did I know they killed him?" He needed to know he hadn't been complicit somehow.

"No," Jeremy assured him; Monroe looked back up, relieved. Jeremy turned his head toward Rachel, "Rachel suspected they did it though. There were a lot of deaths all over the Republic at the time. It looked like garden variety typhus, but she insisted there was a pattern, that all the victims were... flawed somehow," he said thoughtfully. Jeremy turned back to Monroe, "She was pissed at you for not investigating," he chuckled softly, "but it just looked like any other post-Blackout epidemic to everyone else, so...," he shrugged as he trailed off. "Thing is... she was right, only those the Patriots deemed 'undesirable' died from it," Jeremy said disgustedly.

"Captain Trips," Monroe said knowingly. Jeremy nodded emphatically. "But you said Danny died of asthma?"

"They didn't want to waste a dose of the virus on him," Jeremy said matter-of-factly as he shrugged." Monroe realized he'd have to keep Danny safe too while working with the Patriots.

Monroe heaved a sigh and turned his head in time to see Charlotte laying Nora gently on the cot next to her, then Rachel handing her little Sebastian. Charlotte began humming again to their son as she got him situated at her other breast, Rachel picked up Nora and cuddled her to her shoulder to burp her, holding her the way she had Junior. Out of the corner of his eye, Monroe noticed Jeremy looking uncomfortable; he'd turned away from Charlotte while her breasts were exposed. Monroe appreciated that and gave him a slight smile as he glanced at him.

"Did she have an easy delivery?" Monroe asked hesitantly not taking his eyes from Charlotte and their son. He could see they were all alive and well, but after losing Shelley and his first child as he did, he was still worried and nothing short of prenatal exams by a real doctor, and pre-Blackout delivery room conditions would ever truly ease his fears.

"You got Charlie the best obstetrician in Philly, and Rachel talked you into using an amplifier so she could do ultrasounds and such." Monroe's dismay over having to be talked into something so reasonable must've shown, Jeremy let out a bark of laughter, "It didn't take much to convince you," he said reassuringly. "The amplifier died during the delivery though," he warned, "and she bled enough to be worrisome, but you really did get her a good doctor and she pulled her through without it." Jeremy crouched on the floor in front of Monroe, getting him to look him in the eye, "Charlie's gonna be OK, sir. She's tough," he said encouragingly. Bass smiled at his old friend, silently thanking him; Jeremy had been there when Shelley and the baby died and he knew exactly what Bass needed to hear.

Jeremy stood back up and Monroe followed suit, sighing as he got up from the cot and grabbing the bars between the cells again. There was something on his mind since seeing Charlotte before, and realizing time was short, he turned his head to look at Baker, "Did you tell Charlotte about me and Rachel?" he asked warily, clutching the bars tighter. He wasn't angry, but he didn't particularly like the idea that Jeremy would just air his dirty laundry to his wife.

"I didn't bring it up," Jeremy said firmly, "But yeah, I told her," he admitted. "She said one of the maids told her," Monroe raised a questioning eyebrow, "She wouldn't tell me who," Jeremy said hastily, but Monroe had a good idea who it was; there was only one maid who'd been around that long. "I assured her you didn't force yourself on Rachel." Jeremy was the only other person who knew that to be true; he'd been there that night - he'd gotten the hell out of there before it happened - but he'd seen Rachel make the first move. Monroe regretted not joining him ever since.

"Thank you for that," Monroe said relieved, loosening his hold on the bars and turning his head back to his family.

"Glad I could help," Jeremy said glibly.

As he watched his wife and children, Bass wondered what he could do to get Charlotte to stay. He hadn't planned to fall in love with her, but he had. Marrying Charlotte had been intended to keep Rachel in line since he no longer had the threat of Strausser to hold over her head. At least, that's how he'd justified it at the time, but deep down, he knew it'd also been to keep a part of Miles with him. Monroe heaved a sigh, steadying himself to ask Jeremy another question that he feared the answer to, "Could she ever love me?" his eyes never leaving Charlotte.

"Maybe," Jeremy hesitated, "if you showed her the man you once were, and could be again."

He turned to face Jeremy, it was time Bass told him what he'd wanted to say earlier, but a loud bang echoed from inside the cellblock, effectively silencing him. Monroe recognized the sound; a security door had just been closed, which meant someone was coming. He turned from Jeremy to see that Rachel had sat down on the cot beside Charlotte and was holding, and trying to comfort, two very fussy babies, while Charlotte looked apprehensively out into the hallway, buttoning her shirt, as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. She took Junior back from Rachel and cuddled him to her shoulder, patting his back gently, "I'm sorry Bassy, I know you weren't done yet," she said softly, putting her cheek to his head.

Rachel cuddled Nora a little closer, "It's alright," she said, kissing the top of her head.

After a few moments, eight guards came down the hallway led by Sergeant Wilson, carrying two sets of shackles. They stopped in front of Charlotte and Rachel's cell, "But it's not dawn!" Rachel protested weakly, holding Nora even closer as Charlotte did the same with little Sebastian, eyeing the men angrily.

"It's close enough," Wilson taunted as he unlocked the cell. Monroe realized they were being taken to their execution; Davis had meant now when he said it'd been moved up. "So, are we gonna do this the easy way, or the hard way?" Wilson grinned as if he preferred the latter.

Wilson stood outside, watching, as two guards entered the cell and pulled Charlotte and Rachel roughly to their feet and to the door, then restrained them as two more tried to wrench the crying babies from their arms. "Looks like the hard way," Wilson smirked, tilting his head to two others to help hold the struggling women.

Monroe tried to remind himself that he couldn't do anything to stop them, but his instinct to protect his family took over. He bolted from his unlocked cell and moved to snap the neck of one of the guards trying to take the babies, but his hands passed right through him. Momentum carried Monroe into the cell, and he fell forward onto the cot behind them. By the time he righted himself, the men had the children. Charlotte and Rachel were struggling to get free and Charlotte was yelling, "Where are you taking them?" The two guards took the squalling babies down the hall, back the way they'd come.

"Don't worry," Wilson scoffed, "You'll see them again... before...," he trailed off, smirking.

Monroe watched helplessly from the cot as Wilson and one of the remaining guards came in and put the shackles on the women as they continued to struggle furiously against the men holding them. Once the restraints were in place, they were dragged down the hall.

Monroe sat there for a few moments uncertain what to do, but he had to do something. He knew it was probably still futile, but he went after them, reaching the door his family was taken through a second too late. He tried to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. He slumped, out of breath, against the wall, his head down, just as Jeremy caught up to him. Monroe's rage and the assurance that everything that'd just happened represented only a possible future were the only things keeping him from crumpling into a miserable heap on the floor and taking out his sidearm...

Monroe knew what his choices were: Continue working with Flynn's people, hoping to outsmart them until he had the entire continent, then kill them; or be happy with the territory he had and destroy them now, thus ensuring his family and citizens would be safe from those US government pretenders. It'd finally become clear to him that doing the former posed too great a risk that he'd miscalculate along the way, one mistake is all it would take to lose everything. He needed to obliterate the Patriots. Now!

It disturbed Bass that he hadn't been convinced to make that decision sooner. Was he really so far gone, as Miles had said only minutes before he was killed, that he wouldn't believe the ghosts of some of the people he'd trusted most in his life? Even seeing Randall's meeting or those bastards celebrating his death hadn't fully convinced him; it'd taken seeing his wife and infant children dragged away to be executed to finally wake him up.

"I'm supposed to take you to Hell and show you what happens to you if you don't turn things around," Jeremy announced, startling Monroe from his thoughts and making him look up to see his old friend studying him. "But, since I really don't wanna go down there, I'll give you a choice," he said looking Monroe squarely in the eyes, "I take you down there to see your personal hell - watching everyone, and I do mean everyone, you ever cared about dying over and over again, forever," he said with finality. "Or, you agree to wipe out these Patriot bastards. And let Charlotte go," he added hastily, as if afraid Miles was listening, but winking at Monroe.

"I'll do it," Monroe said firmly without hesitating. "I'll annihilate them," his said through gritted teeth, pointing toward the door they'd just taken his family through. "And, I'll let them go," he added resignedly. He'd think of some way to get Charlotte to stay voluntarily, he just didn't know what that was yet.

Jeremy raised a skeptical eyebrow and considered Monroe for a long moment before answering, "Right answer," he said approvingly, smiling broadly.

"Can give you some sage advice?" Jeremy asked, "Be the man I followed in the beginning," he pleaded, not waiting for an answer. "Make the Republic into a legacy you can be proud to leave your children. You'll gain a whole lot more if you make the Republic a better place than you ever will with force." Monroe nodded; Jeremy was right, it was time to make some changes.

"And you should really talk to Charlie," he continued, his tone lighter, "she's really smart and has some good ideas." Jeremy paused as if to let his words sink in, "You could do a lot worse for an advisor, sir," he added helpfully.

"Oh, and in case you still think you can outwit them, they have spies everywhere! Even if you do outsmart Flynn, someone could still get a message to Gitmo or kill you before you could stop them." Monroe nodded in agreement.

Monroe was already considering his strategy, but the knowledge there were probably other turncoats like Neville and Wilson was nagging at him, "Jer, I need to know... are there other officers... like Tom?" Monroe asked seriously.

"Right now, they just have a few spies within the lower ranks, like Private Wilson," Jeremy sneered. "They only just started reaching out to the senior officers; Tom was the first." Monroe felt some relief at that, but he needed to act fast to keep more from being turned.

Jeremy looked thoughtful for a moment, "There are others, but for what you're gonna need to do, I'd go with Colonel Epstein, Major Jackson, Captain Grant, and Captain Hernandez," he counted them off with his fingers. "They can suggest anyone else you might need," he added. Like the excellent officer, advisor, and friend Jeremy was, he'd anticipated Monroe's next question.

Jeremy clapped his hands once, "Well, I guess we're done here," he said, moving to put his hand on Monroe's shoulder.

"Wait! Just one more question," Monroe asked hurriedly, almost desperate. "Will Charlotte stay?" His eyes started to well up with tears, both afraid of the answer and sad that his time with the ghosts, his friends, was over.

"I honestly don't know," Jeremy said sympathetically. "I only know what I've shown you - what would've happened." Monroe was disappointed, but he'd expected an answer like that.

"I'm sorry... I didn't believe you," Bass said, choking back a sob.

"I forgive you, Bass," Jeremy said, pulling him into a hug. As they embraced, Jeremy and the jail suddenly disappeared and everything went black.