Sunset fills the horizon. It's getting dark while the last daylight slowly fades. Charlie welcomes the cool evening air to soothe everything that is happening inside of her. Her steps are taking her to his house.

The violent storm of seeing the two most powerful men she knows, fighting each other, is still close. She had been on her way to ask Miles if he'd wanted to get a couple of drinks in town, when she had seen her mother, standing on her porch, with an intensity in her eyes that told her something was wrong.

And then, she had seen them. Miles' fists, Bass' rage. The both of them fighting with a violent force that only belongs to them. They had looked unstoppable. But the one thing that her stubborn mind had told her was that they had to stop.

The intensity in Miles' eyes when he had realized she was going to follow Bass, is still close. But it's the intensity of Bass' eyes, the crushed hurt and last waves of his heartbreaking rage, that keeps her company, every step of the way.

The conversation between her and her mother is repeating itself in her mind with every step she takes. The overwhelming sense of saying what needed to be said in order to move forward a certainty that adds more strength to her steps.

And by saying what she had to say, old guilt had finally started to resolve. She is able to breathe like she hasn't been able to do in a very long time. But it also means her heart and emotions are close to surface, making her feel raw and exposed. And she is a Matheson, so she hates how she feels.

She stubbornly tells herself to keep on going, to keep on walking until she reaches his house. Her soft knock on his front door sounds loud in the nightly air. Nothing happens. The house in front of her is silent. Just when she is about to knock again, because she is not leaving, not tonight, he opens his door. His eyes look empty, although there is some Monroe thunder left in the blue of his eyes.

When he turns around and walks back inside, he doesn't look at her. He doesn't say a word when she follows him inside.

His living room is filled with darkness from a new night on its way. It feels desolated and cold. She gets out of her leather jacket and places it on the kitchen table on her left. She starts by making some light. It adds a soft glow and long shadows to the room.

When he looks at her, she nods to his bathroom. 'Come on.' Her voice is soft but still reaches him.

He follows her without saying a word or a biting insult, although she really needs him to say something, anything, because his crudeness and insults are better than this hollow version of a Bass.

Bass sits down on the ridge of a large bath tub. He feels like hell. A throbbing wave of pain moves from his face to his shoulders and all the way to his back, now the adrenaline of his rage is fading. He keeps on seeing Miles' face. His body feels exhausted after their fight while old hurt is way too fucking close, hurt he can barely outrun now dark thoughts are closing in on him.

She is close but he is barely registering she is close. The meaning of her being here, with him, doesn't reach him. Yet. He feels numb while too many faces form the past are haunting him. But her being here, her showing up at his fucking front door and her walking to his house to be here with him, slowly starts to break down that lonely wall around him.

Charlie goes through a small cabinet on the opposite side of the bath Bass is sitting on. When she has found the supplies she needs, she walks back to him.

He looks defeated. His eyes are too empty and his shoulders are lacking their usual strength. She has seen him like this before. She can still smell the scent of smoke of fires spread through their camp under a night sky. She had looked at him from her place near a fire in the dark, after he had heard the news about Duncan. He had been sitting across camp, alone, staring in the dark after Scanlon had told him Duncan was gone. She had stood right next to him when she had heard his voice break, desperately fighting to stay in control, when he had asked Scanlon how it had happened. He had turned that loss into rage and blood later that night. And she had followed him.

But tonight, there is no more fight left. Bruises are forming on his face. A sheen of sweat covers the skin of his neck. Her eyes follow the strong lines of his neck before they flow to his shoulders. But then his eyes, his eyes, pull her back to the reason why she is here. He still isn't looking at her. But he doesn't push her away with crude words or biting blue in his eyes either.

Her hands start their work, while Maggie's reassuring voice is close. She knows what to do. She looks at the cuts and bruises on his face, bruises that are there because of a broken past and Miles' fists.

And there, in his bathroom with him sitting on the ridge of his tub, she takes care of him. And what almost breaks her heart is that he lets her. She cleans his wounds and slowly moves a wet cloth over his face. She is standing between his tall, muscled legs. His thighs are encircling her. Her hand brushes the line of his jaw. Her chest is almost close enough to touch his.

Something is happening, whispers her heart in the dark. It feel strange. And overwhelming. And new. But then again, being here in the dark with him, feels normal. Maybe this, she thinks, maybe this is their new normal.

Bass can't look at her. Her touch feels strong and gentle at the same time. When she is ready, he gets up and walks to his living room. He needs some fucking space because a part of him wants to reach out. He shouldn't feel what he is feeling while she is here, doing what she does. It is fucking pathetic but he can barely fight that overwhelming need. He can't handle to finally feel and remember what's it like to feel somebody close who is taking care of him.

Even with an adrenaline filled haze that is still clouding his thoughts, she is too fucking close. The only sound that fills his hallway and living room is the sound of his boots on the wooden floor. He sits down on his couch. He moves his hand through sweaty curls.

Charlie walks into his living room. She grabs some logs and starts a fire in the small fireplace on the other side of the couch before she sits down next to him. The crackling sounds of the fire in front of them is their only companion.

And maybe it's because this, him, her, alone, a fire and a long night stretched out in front of them, feels so familiar that she lets her heart speak.

'He has to push you away..'

'What?' Bass' voice sounds low and hoarse. He slowly lifts his head. His eyes are meeting hers. The light of the flames in the fireplaces brushes his skin. And when his eyes meet hers, she knows he is finally, slowly, returning to her.

'Connor…' she starts, 'he has to push you away.'

The vulnerable intensity of him soaking up and holding onto every word she says, almost crushes her.

'When I heard I could find you in New Vegas…' he still looks at her when she tells him what she has never told him before, 'all my hate and anger focused on you. I was so angry at my mom, at Miles…' she remembers the months she has spent with Miles, his inability to answer to questions that mattered. She remembers her mother's decisions, the months after the Tower. 'I wasn't ready to feel the anger I had to feel.'

'He's not ready Bass.' She pauses, she looks at him. 'He's not ready to be angry at Emma.'

The blue in his eyes lights up when she isn't afraid to mention her. He is staring again, but she can feel the intensity of his dark eyes close to her. She can sense his doubt and before he speaks, she speaks. 'Connor wouldn't be here if he did not wanted you in his life.'

Something changes in his eyes, something that makes her heart beat a bit faster. She sees vulnerable hope in his eyes before something heavy clouds it again. He looks away from her.

Bass stares into the fire in front of them while he processes everything she has just told him. She has never been this open. She has never talked about the reason that drove her away from Miles and Rachel after the Tower. They have never discussed it, although he had needed to know why she had ended up tied up in a fucking empty pool, with him.

She has stopped talking. She just sits next to him. It is one of the things that makes him feel the way he does about her, because she always seems to understand when he needs his space without making him feel fucking pathetic about it.

The night slowly crawls towards a new morning. Charlie knows it is time to go. She can't stay. It doesn't mean she doesn't want to stay. She is afraid of what will happen between them when she does.

It has happened before, more than once. But this time, when something will happen, it will mean something more. And she is not sure she is ready. She is not sure he can take any more.

She gets up. She senses him following her with his eyes, while she walks through his living room. She grabs her leather jacket from his kitchen table. When she has reached his front door, his words are suddenly close again. Well, by that logic, Charlie is going to end the world someday. She had walked straight into another hate filled conversation between her mother, Miles and Monroe. They hadn't realized she had been there, but she had heard his words. She hates how his words made her feel, she hates how they still won't leave her alone.

She thinks about those surreal hours she had spent in an empty pool, close to Monroe. Close enough to feel the heated blaze of his eyes, but not close enough to kill him. The echo of his voice finds her again. Kid, you might be trying to run away from your mom, but you are a hell of a lot like her. It was like he suddenly knocked all the air out of her. She hadn't been able to look away from him while the steel blue had been burning inside his eyes. She hadn't been able to stop the reaction building up deep inside of her.

She remembers his eyes. She remembers how unexpectedly raw she had felt. Because he had been right. All that cold hate that had been burning inside of her, needing him dead without looking at anything else and letting anything else matter, it was exactly what she hated about her mother's hate. A cold, tingling sensation moves through her chest, while her heart beats a bit faster. It would be easier to walk away. But she has to know. She looks straight at him.

'Did you mean it?'

The way her voice sounds, makes him look up. She surprises him with her question in the dark. There is a shift in his eyes to something more intense. 'Mean what?'

'What you said to my mom about me becoming just like her?'

He knows, just by looking at her and after everything she has been through, how fucking important this question is to her. It shows how fucking brave she is, to ask him what she is asking right now.

'No…' His voice is deep and strong, reminding her of the General inside of him, but this is him…Bass…all of him with his honest no bullshit answer. It's the way he looks at her that tells her the rest of the story.

She hates how his answer matters. But it's all she needs, now the question that has been burning inside of her has finally been asked and answered by him. She silently begs him to not ask questions or to not be his stupid arrogant smug self. But she doesn't have to. He just gives her space, while his eyes won't let go of her.

She nods. And then her hand reaches for the door. The night is waiting for her. When she steps outside, cool evening air brushes against her skin. She breathes in and soaks up the crisp air around her. But then the sound of his front door opening and his booths behind her fill the air. His tall body is suddenly close. Bass pushes her against the wall of the house. His wide shoulders and chest shield her from the long night and everything else that is waiting for them out there. His breath is warmth on her skin.

Bass knows this is stupid as hell. But he can't not do this. He can't let her walk away. Not after what she did for him, not after she followed him to house. Not after she made a choice to be here, with him. Not after what she shared with him. Not after what he just saw in her eyes. He had to follow her.

Her scent is close. Her breath is warmth against his neck. He soaks up the way she feels and smells. And then, he lowers his mouth to kiss her. It's slow and strong and wet and warmth. She lets him kiss her in the shadow of his tall body. Her hand slowly moves to his chest while she soaks up the way he feels, so close to her now they are trying whatever this is, this new normal.

His mouth slowly lets go of her lips, but he doesn't step away. Her hand is still on his chest. His thumb brushes against her cheek with a feather light touch. And then, Sebastian Monroe, the man of so much steel and ego, shocks her when his low voice vibrates through the night.

'Are you okay?' There is an genuine deep honesty in his voice that makes her stare at him. There is something so intimate in deep voice, that it's almost even more intimate than his touch. She nods her yes. It's barely visible but she knows he has heard her.

The fact that he cares enough to ask that question makes something inside of her wake up. She tells herself she should not feel this amount of comfort and safety, so close to his wide chest and shoulders. She doesn't need anyone. It's easier to be alone. It's what has kept her on her feet for so long. But him, here…Bass.. is showing her that there might be another truth.

Bass is fighting his familiar battle when it comes to her. Fuck. Possessive heat fights for dominance. Another part inside of him tells her to step away from her. But dammit. He wants her here. Close. Wrap his arms around her, press her body against his. But so much is happening, he can feel it in the slight tremble of her shoulders. He has seen it in the vulnerable blue of her eyes. She has finally lowered her defenses.

And he doesn't want to do anything to fuck that up. He doesn't want to take one more step towards something they might not be ready for. Something he is not sure he even deserves. She has been through enough.

'Try to get some sleep.' There is hoarse warmth inside his voice. He curses inside his head for the way he is talking to her. But then she looks at him the way she does, and he swallows that curse away.

And with those five words, they become something new. She tells him goodnight with her eyes before he takes a step back. She doesn't have to look back, because she knows he will follow her with eyes while she walks into the cool night air.