OK, so yet again this is much, much later an update than I wanted or planned for it to be. Real life just keeps encroaching on my fanfiction time. So I apologize for the lateness of this.

I own nothing of Revolution, but I love playing around in their world.

Also, I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this and I realize there is a TON of new Revo fanfic out there to choose from, but if you do have a moment please leave a review if you can. :) And thank you so much to any of you still following this or any of my other stories.

From the log of Frank Blanchard, acting President of the Republic of Texas:

The black ops experiment is going well. Five teams have now been dispatched, three managed to catch their targets. Can't ask for better odds than those.

The most surprising team...Charlie Matheson and Sebastian Monroe. I never would have put these two together in a million years, a sentiment it seems Miss Matheson shares, but for some reason it's working. They were sent to Mexico to capture a Patriot who had kidnapped a local rancher's daughter. They tracked him down and eliminated him, but not before he killed the girl. Wish that had gone differently. It was obvious the girl's death was weighing on Miss Matheson, and Monroe didn't seem none too happy about it either. I could tell they'd already discussed it and didn't want anyone else involved. Partnerships do sometimes bring people closer.

They also brought in a stray. Young kid by the name of Michael Ford, who is staying with Monroe for awhile. Miss Matheson already knew him and he decided he would give life in Willoughby a try. Let's see how long it is before Monroe kills him.

Move yourself
You always live your life
Never thinking of the future
Prove yourself
You are the move you make
Take your chances win or loser - Owner of a Lonely Heart - Yes

Charlie knocked on the door to Monroe's house, still not sure if her being there was such a good idea. But she was there for Michael, at his request. And if that caused her to spend a little unexpected time with her partner, she would deal with it. Plus, she had to admit she was just a little bit...lonely.

Miles was with her mother a lot, and she and Rachel still weren't getting along, Monroe being the biggest reason why. Her grandfather was still mourning Marion, and Aaron seemed wrapped up in helping Priscilla recover. So that sort of left Charlie on the outskirts of her own family. Her partner and his new housemate were sort of her best option to relieve the loneliness.

The door opened and Monroe stood there, a slightly nervous look on his face. "Glad you're here."

"Why? Michael invited me." Something about Monroe always put her on the defensive.

"Yeah, I know," Bass said, stepping aside to let her enter. "But he's cooking. I'm more than a little concerned that my house is going to catch fire before the night's over."

"And what am I supposed to do if that happens?"

"I don't know, Charlie. Moral support among partners?"

Rolling her eyes, she followed him through the kitchen and out to the back patio. Sure enough, there was Michael, flipping steaks on a grill pit. He hurried over and hugged her. "Charlie, you made it. I'm so glad you're here."

"That seems to be going around," she said. Michael had been so excited about his little makeshift barbecue that she'd been unable to say no to the kid, even if it meant spending an off night with Monroe. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I got this." He motioned to the table and the salad, bread, and potatoes waiting for them. "I made it all."

"It looks wonderful," she said.

"But I spent a lot of money on that meat, kid. So you better not burn them," Bass said, pouring a glass of whiskey for Charlie.

"I won't. I won't." Michael returned to the grill. "I used to cook all the time. Back home, Peter used to let me cook for everyone."

"Steaks?" Bass asked.

Michael faltered. "Well, no-"

"Then pay attention, kid. This isn't the same as squirrel or rabbit." Bass sat across from Charlie at the table on the patio. "And we're hungry."

Michael rolled his eyes at Bass, but went back to the task at hand. "It's almost done."

Even a few weeks ago, Charlie would have reprimanded Monroe for being so hard on the young man. But after spending some time around the two of them, she realized this was how they dealt with one another. Monroe acted gruff and put out, while Michael took it all with a grain of salt. And after Connor's disappearance, Michael might have just been the best thing to happen to him.

Her eyes must have remained on Monroe for too long because he turned to her, gazes locking. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shrugging. "It's just for someone who thinks Michael is going to ruin our dinner, you seem to have spent a lot of money on the food."

"The kid wanted it." At her pointed look, he smirked. "I think he was trying to impress you with his mad cooking skills."

"Whatever."

"No, seriously," Monroe said, tongue firmly in cheek. "I think this might be a date. Maybe I should leave-"

"Stop it." Her hand fell on his arm to keep him in place, but she quickly removed it. "He's trying to do something nice for us and you're picking on him."

"I'm not picking. Just stating a fact." Bass leaned back in his chair. "He was far happier cooking those things knowing you were coming over than he was doing it just for me."

"Let it go." Sometimes it was hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice when it came to Monroe.

"Alright," he said. "But let me know if I'm in the way."

Charlie was two seconds away from throwing something at him when Michael came to the table with a plate of perfectly cooked steaks. "Those look amazing."

"Thanks." Michael was all smiles as he set one on her plate before giving one to Bass. "I think they came out good. I had steak out on the ranch a few times, but we never had meat like this back home."

"Well, Texas is the place for steaks," Bass said, cutting into his. It really did look damn good; the last time he'd even had a cut of beef like this he'd been in Philly.

"And you never had meat like this at home because the president of the republic was hogging it all for himself." Bass's eyes met hers across the table, prepared to be pissed that she would bring something like that up. Until he noticed the glint in her eye. She was merely getting back at him for his comments about Michael.

Cocking an eyebrow, he nailed her with his eyes. "You think I'm going to feel guilty for that? I got a million things to feel guilty for, Charlie. That's pretty low down on the list."

They stared at each other for a few minutes, until she was no longer sure if they were teasing each other or if there was real anger building. Finally, Michael cut in. "OK, no fighting at the table. Let's just eat."

They went back to their meals, but she was impressed that Michael had picked up on the tension that still managed to exist between her and Monroe. They were partners, sure, but it was a very precarious situation. Any little thing could push either one of them off the fence they were delicately balancing on. For now, she was willing to keep the peace.

They ate in relative silence; there were a few praises for Michael, begrudgingly from Bass, and a little light conversation that revolved around the kid and how he was enjoying Willoughby. She supposed the old get-to-know-one-another thing she and Monroe had employed had either been cast aside or was reserved for when they were alone on missions. She sort of hoped it was the former; the last time they had a deep discussion, it had opened up some thoughts and emotions she didn't think she was ready for.

They had mostly finished their meal when there was a knocking at the front door. Bass caught Charlie's eye for a moment before getting up to answer. He was gone for a few seconds before he called her name.

Stepping up to the front door, she recognized Blanchard's aide and the envelope in Bass's hand. "Frank's here. He needs us."

Twenty minutes later, they were in Blanchard's office, awaiting orders on their next assignment. "Alright you two, we're sending you out a little closer this time."

"Closer where?"

Blanchard shrugged at Bass. "The man we're tracking down has been seen outside of Houston, about 10 miles west of the city in a little town called Hedwig Village. We thought at first we wouldn't even need to involve any of the teams. Thought the local authorities could just pick him up. But then he disappeared. And then he showed up again."

"So he's on the run?" Charlie asked.

"Well, we're assuming so. But what we can't figure out is why he keeps returning to the same little town." Blanchard's chair creaked when he shifted his weight. "So we need to send y'all in."

"Any stats on the target?" Bass leaned back, propping his left ankle up on his right knee and tapping on his boot.

Blanchard picked up a paper on his desk. "Name is Eric Patrick. He was a staff sergeant."

"A staff sergeant?" Bass's eyebrow shot up.

Charlie glanced at Bass. "What does that mean?."

He met her eyes. "It means he was up in the ranks but not that high."

"We're tracking them all down, Monroe. We can't afford to let any officers go free."

"I get that part. But I also seriously doubt this guy could pull the entire Patriot army back together."

"Do you want to take that chance?" Blanchard asked.

Charlie cut in before Bass could answer. "We'll track him down. We'll do our jobs."

Blanchard nodded. "Alright, you leave first thing in the morning."

The sun was just setting as they exited the building. Charlie looked Monroe up and down for a moment. "What was that all about in there?"

She didn't need to explain further. "Charlie, that's pretty low on the totem pole. I didn't even know the names of my officers until they became captains. A guy like that wasn't running anything."

"We hunt down Patriots, Monroe, whether they're officers or just soldiers. It's what we signed on for." She shook her head in disbelief. "You can't tell me you're suddenly growing a conscience."

"You wouldn't believe it even if I did," he mumbled, but she heard and looked over at him. Their eyes connected and held, heated gazes locked. Again, she wasn't sure if it was animosity or just their usual push-and-pull banter.

After a few seconds, she broke the contact. Rolling her eyes, she sighed. Sometimes being around him was so exhausting. "I'm going home to get some sleep. You should too. Tell Michael I'm sorry we had to cut the evening short."

Without waiting for his answer, she crossed the street and headed for her apartment. Turning back for a second, she expected to still see him standing there. But he was nowhere to be seen.

They were on the road early the next morning; as with their first trip, Bass got there before she did and had the horses ready to go. Unsure whether she wanted a repeat of their last ride and the way too intense chat they'd had, Charlie steered the conversation to topics she felt comfortable with. How long did he think it would take to get there? Why would this Patriot risk coming and going from the small town near Houston? If it was related to the case, she brought it up.

They rode for slightly more than 8 hours, stopping a few times to give the horses a rest and found themselves settling in for the night in the small town of Bastrop, Texas. She was more than willing to just pitch a tent out along the Colorado River, but Bass was insistent that they take advantage of the nearby town and the beds that would accompany getting a room for the night. That was how they found themselves hitching their horses outside the Pecan Street Inn, a quaint lodging house just inside Bastrop.

Bass eyed the place for a moment before turning to her. "We're sharing a room."

Her eyes widened. "No, you get your own."

"Number one, it's safer if we share. Number two, Charlie, look at this place." He motioned to the house before him. If he had to guess, it was probably a romantic bed and breakfast before the Blackout. Not that she had to know that. "It's not that big. And number three, it's safer if we share."

She was far from convinced. "I was perfectly happy sleeping by the river."

"Look, locked doors are always safer than sleeping outside. And we could both do with getting a good night's sleep in a bed. We'll get separate beds." Although, he wasn't too sure a place like this would offer that.

"Fine," she exhaled, the huffiness reminded him of his littlest sister when she didn't get her way.

Happy that he'd won, he headed for the entrance. "And we're pretending we're married."

"What? No!" she shouted, but he'd already opened the door and was holding it for her, knowing she would never jeopardize their mission by arguing with him in public. Stomping past him, she slid up to the front counter, cringing when he slipped an arm around her waist.

Bass rang the bell on the counter, grimacing when Charlie dug her fingernails into the hand positioned on her waist. It was too late to remove it though as an older gentleman stepped out from the back room to greet them. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, yeah, my wife and I need a room." He felt her tense at the word wife, but outwardly she remained completely calm, a soft smile on her face. Their cover was too important for her to mess up and she knew it.

"We only have the Master Suite left. Got a king-sized bed and a fireplace. There's a bathroom with a claw-footed tub."

"We'll take it," Bass said. The very idea of taking a bath seemed ridiculously luxurious after a hard day on the road. He expected Charlie to protest, but she remained quiet; maybe the thought of sinking into a tub full of hot water appealed to her as well.

He paid the man in diamonds before they headed up to their room. The inn was a nice little place, lots of wood, lots of knitted rugs and throw blankets, that probably did a hell of a lot of business before the Blackout. But someone had at least tended to the upkeep of the place in the ensuing years. When they stepped into their room, Bass was immediately thrilled that he'd insisted on staying in a hotel; the bed was king-sized, and looked absolutely heavenly. What he guessed might present a problem was the fact that there was only one.

Charlie rounded on him. "You said you'd ask for two beds?"

"Yeah, well, I lied. That would have looked entirely too suspicious." He shook his head and crossed over to the bed, dropping his pack on the corner of it. "Come on, Charlie, this thing is huge. Neither one of us will even realize the other is in it."

She scoffed. "I'm not sharing a bed with you. You'll sleep on the floor."

He stared at her as if she'd grown another head. "No way. I'm not wasting a perfectly good bed to sleep on a hardwood floor. We'll line pillows down the center of this gigantic piece of furniture if you want, but I'm sleeping in this bed."

"Then I'll sleep on the floor," she insisted, refusing to budge on the matter.

If she seriously thought he was going to get all gentlemanly and take the floor, she was sorely mistaken. His manners only went so far. "Fine."

"Seriously, that's it?"

He almost bust out in laughter at the distraught look on her face. Knowing how fierce her wrath could be, he held back all signs of mirth, except for the slight smile he just couldn't wipe off his face. "Look, Charlie, there's a limit to my being honorable. And that limit is this bed. There's no way I'm passing up a chance for a good night's sleep when it might be my last one for the next week or so. You'd be smart to do the same thing."

Glaring at him for a moment, she looked from the floor to the bed several times. He could tell the exact moment she relented; Charlie always did know how to pick her battles. Tossing her pack on the opposite end from his, she flopped down on her side of the bed, falling onto her back. Bass sort of suspected she was checking to see exactly how much room would be between them.

Satisfied that they'd avoided an argument for a while, he wandered into the bathroom, releasing a low whistle when he saw the size of the tub, another feature that must have been in the room pre-Blackout. A brief flair of nostalgia gripped him; he hadn't seen a tub like that since Philly. He was definitely having a long soak in that thing.

Absentmindedly turning the faucet on, he was pleasantly surprised when a small stream of water shot out. Damn. Indoor plumbing, no matter how primitive, was nothing to sneeze at in their world.

Happy with their accommodations, he stepped back into the bedroom. "Come on, let's go grab dinner. Then we can come back here and get some rest. Get an early start tomorrow."

Never sure what mood she would throw at him, he found himself relieved when she accepted without a hassle. They stopped at the front desk to ask where they could find some decent food, then walked the short distance from the hotel to the restaurant in complete silence.

The restaurant turned out to be a small little room with lots of chairs and tables. The sort of mom and pop operation that could always be found in small towns before the Blackout. The only difference, Bass surmised, was the liquor that was now an obvious part of the menu. He wasn't sure a place that served food could survive anymore without it. Most travelers were looking for little more than a drink and some grub at the end of a long day. People used to drink because they wanted to. Now, they drank just to get through the day.

After ordering two bowls of stew and two glasses of whiskey, Charlie carefully steered the conversation towards the mission. "So we never really decided why this guy is showing up in Hedwig Village and then taking off again. Is he looking for something? Money maybe."

"Well, money's a good motivator, so that's always a possibility. But I don't know. That doesn't feel right." A waitress placed two glasses of whiskey in front of them and Bass scooped his up, swallowing down half of it. "I think there's something else."

"Something worth risking his life over?" Charlie sipped at her own drink.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, what?"

"I don't know, Charlie. If I did, we'd be that much better off." Bass realized how snide his answer sounded the second it came out of his mouth, but it was too late to change it. Two seconds later, his hopes that Charlie wouldn't take it that way were dashed when she got remarkably quiet and extremely interested in her drink. "Charlie..."

She said nothing, taking another sip of her whiskey, eyes anywhere but on him.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I just...I'm not sure why this guy is doing something that seems so stupidly foolish." He sighed. "I didn't mean to bite your head off."

She glared at him for a minute. "Sometimes I think you and I going on missions together is the stupidest thing either of us has ever done."

"Charlie, listen-"

"No, I'm serious." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "We have nothing in common. I don't like you. And you think I'm an idiot who has no clue what she's doing out here."

"What?" Glancing around at the other patrons in the restaurant, he realized how loud his response was and lowered his voice, leaning in towards her. "Are you serious? You think that I think what?"

"Look, it's obvious that you have no respect for me. That you think I'm just some dumb kid who happens to be Miles Matheson's niece."

Their bowls of stew arrived halting the conversation for a few minutes. Which was good, as Bass needed that much time to figure out how she'd ever drawn those conclusions. After the waitress left, Charlie dug into her bowl, eyes straight ahead as she chewed, essentially ignoring his very presence.

Shoving his bowl to the side, he turned towards her, chair and all, his full concentration on Charlotte Matheson. "First off, I have no idea how you ever got that idea. I never once said anything about you being an idiot or a dumb kid."

She dropped her spoon. "You've called me a kid plenty of times."

"Kid...I don't ever remember modifying that with the word dumb. And I don't think I've ever used the word idiot to describe you." She was about to protest when he held up his hand. "And even if I did, I've called Miles an idiot more times than you could ever count. Doesn't mean I wouldn't have him watching my back at every move."

"Monroe-"

"No, you listen to me for a change." He leaned in even closer. So much so that Charlie tilted backwards just a bit. "I asked for you, Charlie. Specifically. I admit I asked for Miles first. He didn't want the job, you were the next one I requested. In fact, after you and your uncle, there were no other choices for me. If you had turned Blanchard down, I would have too. I asked for you because I think you're not an idiot or a dumb kid or some fool running around out there with no skills or training."

Her eyes met his, locking, holding. It was that damn eye contact he just couldn't escape with her. "Well, what about Duncan's men? You didn't think I was qualified enough to lead them."

He should have known she'd bring up something like that. But she didn't understand there was more to his comment to Scanlon than she understood. "Do you want to know what I really thought when Duncan gave you those men?"

Without breaking his gaze, she nodded. God, Charlie Matheson was a force, straightforward and honest, never backing down from a challenge. "Yeah, I do."

"I was impressed." Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly. "I knew Duncan...really well. She didn't give trust very easily. Her men were part of her family. She was willing to take the money, but to just give them away...no, I never expected that. Not even for someone she owed a debt to."

"Then why would she..."

"Because she saw something in you. I would guess something that reminded her of herself." He tipped his head towards her. "And let me tell you something, Charlie. No one would ever accuse Duncan Page of being an idiot, least of all me."

Charlie got the message. Duncan didn't think she was a stupid kid. And neither did he. "So why did you act like she shouldn't have given them to me?"

He glanced away from her, shaking his head. "Jesus, Charlie. She and I had a past. I thought she'd..."

Charlie studied him for a moment. "You were jealous."

He looked up at her, the truth of that statement in his eyes. "Can we just drop this now and eat?"

She wanted to gloat about it; she really did. But considering all the honesty he'd showed her in the last couple of minutes, she decided to cut him a break. "Sure."

He pulled his chair back, tucking into his bowl of stew with a newfound fervor. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence; their only conversation was with the waitress whenever she stopped by their table. The walk back to the hotel was also quiet as Charlie contemplated the things Monroe had said at dinner, while he wondered how once again he'd revealed so much to her.

Back in their room, Bass offered her first dibs on the big tub, which she promptly turned down. He seemed a bit confused over her refusal but happily locked himself in the bathroom when she insisted she was just heading to bed for the night. Of course, he had no way of knowing that the last time she'd soaked in a tub like that had been at Drexel's. She really didn't want a memory of that night playing in her brain.

Crawling into the huge bed, she could hear Monroe splashing away in the tub. Sometimes the guy acted like the biggest jerk she'd ever encountered. But sometimes he said things that caught her completely off guard. She'd honestly never believed he had any faith in her fighting skills, assuming he'd asked for her as a partner because she was sort of like Miles. He'd even said that he thought they'd be good partners because she fought like Miles. It just never occurred to her that could actually be a compliment.

To know that he was impressed she'd gotten those men off of Duncan, that he was actually a little jealous, was mindblowing. As much as Monroe drove her nuts, he was one of the best fighters she'd ever seen, Miles being the other. So as much as she might hate to want his respect, she found that the warrior in her really did yearn for it. Knowing she had it made her a little less edgy, like maybe he wasn't just waiting at every turn to call her out for doing something wrong.

She glanced at his side of the bed, then at the pillows across the headboard. Earlier, she'd had every intention of lining them up through the center to form a barrier. But after what he'd shared tonight, she figured a bit of an olive branch had been extended. It was now up to her to decide if she wanted to pick it up and call a truce to their bitter war. Staring at the bathroom door, she made her decision.

When Bass finally came out of the bath, he found Charlie asleep on her side, facing away from him. It didn't escape his attention that there were no pillows down the center of the bed.

The pillows, or lack thereof, on the big bed were never mentioned again, but a change had definitely occurred in their relationship. There was an ease between them that had never existed before, at least not while they weren't in fight mode. Charlie still wasn't sure she wanted to use the word friends, but they were actually...getting along.

Conversation over the next few days was widespread, and although they avoided really deep discussions, Charlie did allowed talk dealing with more than just the case. It was still mainly small talk, but it was far less stilted than usual. For the first time since they'd started, she finally felt that maybe their partnership wasn't a complete and total mistake.

And she had to admit Bass was a pretty decent traveling companion. He'd been right about sleeping in a bed when they could; none of the other small towns they had passed were as decent as Bastrop, prohibiting them from finding another hotel to spend the night in.

Four days later, they reached the town of Katy just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. There was still enough light left to see the streets and Bass wanted to find a good place to bunk down for the night.

"We're less than a day's ride away from Hedwig Village, but we'll have to bunk here for the night, Charlie," he said. "We lost some time when we left the interstate."

She nodded in agreement. Lack of use had made the main highway nearly impassable for the horses, so they'd had to move off the interstate onto U.S. route 90. Here, the road was much smaller and closer, stores and buildings lining their path. Before them were several abandoned gas stations and an old chain restaurant whose tall sign had smashed out arches on it. Charlie vaguely remembered eating in one of them as a child.

Bass dismounted, his eyes searching up and down the deserted highway.

"What are you looking for?" Charlie asked.

"Just thinking that I'd rather get off the beaten path a bit," he answered.

"Monroe, we haven't seen anyone the whole day."

"It's better not to take chances, Charlie. Come on. Let's go this way." He started off down a side street that lead away from the U.S. route.

Hopping off her horse, she strolled up next to him as they crossed over train tracks overgrown with tall grasses. Passing by several deserted buildings, which looked as if they might have once been shops, they made they way further into the town.

"Does it seem awfully quiet here to you?" he asked as they approached a small intersection.

Charlie stopped and looked around. A huge water tower loomed over them, but she would bet anything that it had been drained years ago. "Yeah, and I haven't seen so much as a sign of a single person living here. Do you think the town is deserted?"

Bass glanced up and down the road they were on. "Looks like it. We need to find a decent place to hole up for the night. Let's try down here."

"Do you think we might find some food while we're at it? We don't have a lot left in the way of rations." She unconsciously rubbed her stomach. Bass noticed, but remained silent. One way or another, he'd make sure she ate enough before they bedded down for the night.

The pickings had been slim for the last few days. Neither of them had been very successful in the hunt for food. And too many of the towns they'd encountered had been not only deserted, but almost completely trashed. Many had looked like battlefields, dilapidated buildings strewn around them. Bass suspected a tornado had cut through the area sometime after the Blackout and any humans left alive had just moved on. It would explain the rather straight path of the destruction. With no people around to care, nothing would ever be rebuilt.

"We'll find something." Noticing a store filled with various odds and ends, he tied both horses to a telephone pole out front then led Charlie inside.

She glanced around the messy store. It was obvious it had been ransacked sometime in the past. "What was this place?"

"Not what I was expecting," he said. He'd been hoping for a convenience store of some type, but from the remaining knickknacks and trinkets he could see, they'd more likely wandered into a antique store. Anything that might have been of value though was obviously long gone. "They sold heirlooms and relics from the past. People used to enjoy decorating their homes with things like that."

Charlie nodded. "Grandpa has a few things in his house that he said my grandmother picked up at an antiques dealer."

So did his own mother. "Well, I don't think we'll find too much in here, but let's make a quick sweep. See if anything looks useful."

They went in separate directions, but the store was so small she was constantly in his line of sight. Finding an old desk against the back wall, he rifled through a few of the drawers, pulling out a ton of papers. The piece of furniture must have been used in place of an office, since there didn't appear to be a back room of any kind. Yanking open the bottom drawer, he shuffled a few papers to the side and found an old energy bar.

Having finished her own exploration, Charlie slid up next to him. "What's that?"

He handed her the bar. "Food."

She looked at the wrapper and gave it right back to him. At his questioning look, she shrugged. "My mom tried to give me one of those last year. She said people used to eat it. But when I broke it apart, it didn't seem all that edible. I didn't even try."

Bass chuckled. "Good move. We used to eat these when we were in a rush."

"Well, have at it then."

He ripped into the package and bit into the bar, spitting it out when he found he couldn't even chew through it. "Yeah, I guess it's gotten a little stale over the years. Can you believe we used to think these things were healthy?"

She laughed. "My mom said they were loaded with sugar."

"They were loaded with a lot of things. Come on, let's get out of here. We'll find something else to eat." Back outside, he looked at a few of the other storefronts on the street. "There...we'll stay there."

Only two doors away, Charlie left the horses where they were and stepped up next to Bass, eyeing the place he was referring to. "A home decorating store?"

"It's perfect. It's small and compact, and all the windows are busted out so we should be able to start a fire. They may even have something we can use for bedding."

Neither one of them noticed a lone figure creep from the side of the municipal building behind them. Not until they heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked behind them.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

Both Charlie and Bass whipped out their guns as they spun around to face their assailant. Charlie's eyes widened when she realized she recognized the woman in front of her.

"Charlie?"

"Grace?"

Since both women had lowered their guns, Bass followed suit, his eyes shooting over to Charlie. "Is there going to be anyone we run into that you don't know?"

The rest of the mission is completed and will be up in a few days.

Also, there really is a Pecan Street Inn in Bastrop, and it looks really lovely on its website. Bass and Charlie really enjoyed their stay there. ;)