The next morning, Charlie was already up, dressed, and munching on some trail mix by the time Monroe's head popped up from the sleeping bag where she'd left him.
"Are those clothes even dry yet?" he asked, squinting over at her with an air of confusion as to where they should even start after the previous night's revelations.
"Dry enough," Charlie replied quietly, looking down at the small fire she'd managed to draw forth. Her eyes couldn't help flickering upward, but she couldn't deal with what she saw. A shirtless Monroe, staring soulfully at her from the ground, was a more serious problem than she was equipped to solve right now.
"Don't," she told him, grabbing his clothes and tossing them to him. Monroe felt the material, determining that they were just barely wearable again, and began pulling them back on as Charlie averted her eyes again.
"Don't what?" Monroe asked, yanking his pants on rapidly and striding over to sit beside her. Charlie's arm shot out with the trail mix, which he waved off, distracted.
"We have to go get Miles," Charlie reminded him. "Whatever this is-" she gestured back and forth between herself and Bass - "this is too big to analyze right now. So let's keep moving and deal with it afterwards."
"Okay," Monroe agreed. "By the way, it's not like I forgot Miles was in Patriot clutches, Charlotte. I'm in love; I don't have amnesia."
Charlie smacked him in the arm, trying to ignore the appealing firmness she felt there and how her heart jumped when he said he loved her. "Stop it."
"I'm not gonna forget just because you're putting the issue on hold," Bass announced, standing and offering her a hand to help her get up. Begrudgingly, given she wasn't really back to full strength, Charlie accepted it. "Let's go," Monroe added, slinging the controversial coat back around her shoulders. She couldn't suppress an ironic smile.
Charlie felt frustrated at herself that she'd allowed this warm glow of flirtation to hover between them, since she ought to be continuing to fight back her feelings with everything she had. But convincing herself out of love with Bass Monroe was a gargantuan task that simply had to be sidelined.
They had to walk all day before they reached the Patriot prison camp, a typically organized pop-up village with numerous armed guards. "This should be fun," Monroe murmured, following Charlie down to the front gates.
When the gate opened and a surly guard peered at them, Charlie piped up, "Hey there, I'm Charlotte Matheson, niece and cohort of Miles Matheson. This is Bass Monroe, the...oh, you know who he is," she smirked.
Quickly bound and dragged through the camp towards the jailing quarters, they were grateful that the guards hadn't discovered the small vial of liquid hidden in Charlie's inner jacket pocket.
"Guys, seriously?" Miles groaned when he saw Charlie and Bass being flung into a neighboring cell. "Seriously?"
"Relax, Miles, we have a plan," Monroe said smoothly. "Nice to see you too, by the way."
"You're such a douche," Miles replied poignantly. "Charlie, are you okay?"
"Same old me," Charlie lied. "When do you wanna do this thing?" she asked, turning to Bass.
"Morning," he suggested. "They'll be less guarded first thing."
"Based on what?" Charlie asked. "I say we do this now. Why wait?"
"Why did you ask me, then?" Monroe questioned, rubbing his forehead.
"God, you two argue like an old married couple. What's going on, anyway?" Miles demanded, irritated.
Charlie and Bass exchanged an intense look as they processed Miles' words. Had he sensed something between them?
"Guys?" Miles said, snapping his fingers impatiently. "What's the plan?"
"Take the guards out with this sedative Grandpa gave us," Charlie filled him in, showing the vial. "They just have to smell it."
"Right, so when they come around to check us in the morning-" Bass began, but they were interrupted by a guard's approach.
"You're wanted for questioning, both of you," the guard said to Charlie and Monroe.
"Delightful," Charlie enthused sarcastically. As the Patriot opened the cell and pulled her out by her elbow, Monroe swiftly kicked him in the gut, grabbed the vial from Charlie's pocket, and jammed it up the guard's nostril.
"I thought you wanted to wait," Charlie observed, raising one eyebrow at Monroe's tempestuous reaction to the guard's rough treatment of her. She'd be lying if she said she didn't like it. Seeing this now constant evidence of Monroe's feelings for her was exhilarating even in its total wrongness and despite the danger of his unpredictability.
"Changed my mind," Monroe stated casually, fishing the keys out of the Patriot's pocket and releasing Miles. "Let's go."
"No argument here," Miles said, his intelligent gaze momentarily locked on Charlie and Monroe in a way that made her suspect that Miles was, at least on some level, noticing the change that had happened in his absence. Dammit.
This was going to be not only hard, but impossible. It was all. Impossible. How could Charlie ever even try to explain her relationship, whatever it was, with Monroe to Miles...not to mention her mother, which was a topic she flinched at the mere thought of. Charlie had all the dynamite to hurt each of them, including Bass if she backed out of their quasi-romance now. The immensity of all that was such that poor Connor seemed like an afterthought even though he wasn't. That was a huge problem as well.
Trapped, self-hating, finally free, infused with the irrefutable magic of love, Charlie was a complete and total mess. But she hid it well.
As they fought their way through the unfortunate remainder of guards blocking their path, Charlie noticed how she and Monroe were becoming partners in battle, a well-oiled machine that was nearly unstoppable. Miles seemed to be off in his own universe somewhere, so linked and synchronized, with effortless flow, were Charlie and Monroe's motions. She noted with wonderment how the least little release of her inhibitions about loving Bass had allowed them to instantly turn into this impeccable team, like it was their destiny. It thrilled her with a fear that tore through her painfully. Was there no turning back from this insane thing between them now that they'd come even this far?
Mounting three stolen Patriot horses, the trio rode quickly away, chased by more Patriots whom they evaded with the aid of some stolen firearms. Once they had enough distance between them and the camp to know they were safe for now, Miles pulled his steed to a holt and cocked his head to one side, observing Charlie and Monroe with interest. "That wasn't a totally horrible rescue," Miles granted them. "Are you both coming back to Willoughby?"
Monroe made a joking "whip" sound at the implication that Miles had to rush right back to Rachel. "Pot, meet kettle," Charlie whispered mockingly, close enough to Bass that only he heard, as he acknowledged with an annoyed grimace.
"I guess," Charlie agreed. What else could they do? She wished both that Monroe would go somewhere far away so that she could be free of him forever...and that he would take her with him so that she could be enveloped in their love without consequence.
That night, they made camp in a cosy little wooded enclave, a spot Charlie wished they had noticed on the journey to the prison, since it was ideal for grabbing some furtive slumber. Miles rapidly ate his way through most of the rest of the rations, starved from his recent ordeal and the disgusting prison food he'd rejected. Even Charlie's sad collection of edible sundries was preferable to Patriot slop, Miles pointed out thankfully. Almost as soon as he'd swallowed the last morsel and washed it down with some of Bass' whiskey, Miles was deep in a coma-like sleep, snoring endearingly.
Charlie and Monroe crept off to be alone, quiet and contemplative. "I never thought things could be so different between us," Charlie observed when they had walked far enough to ensure their solitude.
"Me neither. I never thought I could be so different. You bring it out in me, Charlotte. All the good in me I tried to kill over the years. I thought it was gone forever." Monroe's blue eyes flashed with the depth of his emotion.
Charlie shook her head. "I want to believe you, but those are just words. You have to do what you said last night. You need to try to be better. Even that doesn't erase the massive problem of everything you've already done and the way absolutely everyone would stand in the way of our being together...maybe including me. But it's a start."
Monroe kissed her tenderly and pressed his forehead against hers. "I'll try. Now what?"
"Now?" Charlie asked, taking his hand and leading him back to where Miles slept, "Let's go home."