A/N: This chapter has a mild trigger warning for rape, but **no one gets raped**. It is just a guy trying to get Charlie's attention and maybe pushing her too far. Nothing graphic happens, just some groping! It's supposed to be a parallel to what actually happened in the show.

Also, I'm sorry this took me so long to update. Since university let out, I've been back home with my family! Just got back today and thought I'd update! Hope you enjoy, and please read and review!


Charlie stared out over the rooftops of Chicago and let Bass's words sink in. His reaction to her statement rung through her mind, and she found herself playing their interaction over and over again in her mind in order to better understand it. They had seemed to be getting along before he had exploded in her face, and… and told her that he wished to push her off the roof. Those words seemed out of place and certainly not directed towards her. It was a defense mechanism, to be sure, Charlie concluded in her head.

She raised her chin to the stars and let the light of the city dance across her body. Charlie pulled herself from her sitting position and stood on shaky feet. The view would have to end for now. Charlie turned with one last look to make her way to the stairwell, leaving their untouched beers to most likely freeze in the cold night.

The trip down was much faster than their marathon up, and Charlie found herself at ground level in half the time. The door that stood between her and Bass seemed like a prison wall, and she almost felt free when she pushed it open to see Bass standing on the other side. He was brooding by his bike, the shadows of the artificial light casting dark shadows across the sharp features of his face. The stubble on his jaw made him seem more dangerous somehow, and Charlie felt the wind in her lungs being rushed out her at the sight of him. Bass almost looked daunting standing there, like a villain on the pages on a comic book.

Charlie froze, and their eyes locked. When Bass saw her nearly fearful expression, his gaze softened. His features relaxed, and his stance widened as his head tilted to the side in an unspoken apology.

"I want to go home," said Charlie. Her voice was surprisingly strong and did not falter as she had expected.

"You want to go back to Rachel and Ben and Danny?" said Bass. His voice differed from hers, and cracked in the middle of his sentence. He swallowed to clear his throat.

Charlie rolled her eyes. She walked to the motorcycle and grabbed the helmet from the handlebars. "That's not my home anymore."

Bass heard himself laughing, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm glad," he said, swinging his leg over the seat.

"Oh, you want me around now, do you? How do I know that you're not gonna purposefully crash this thing on the way back—" she paused "—home?"

Bass chuckled, "I'd be more than happy to if Miles wouldn't have my neck for it."

Charlie joined him on the back and wrapped her arms around her midsection. Before, she had kept some semblance of self-control on the bike; meaning, that she hadn't wanted to seem like she was blatantly flirting with the older man. Now, however, she pushed her breasts into his back and let a giggle hang in the air. She felt his breath hitch, so she tightened her grip on his abs and moved her hands a bit further down.

"Stop it," growled Bass.

Charlie feigned innocence, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bass muttered something back, but it was drowned out by the sound of the engine revving. They took off into the street and sped away from the building that had nearly caused a fissure in their carefully built relationship.

They returned home, and Bass pulled into the garage, letting a puddle splash a passerby. He pulled into his regular spot, but when they stilled, he made no movement to get off. Charlie had around swung herself off and was taking off her helmet when she saw his expression. It was strained, like he was holding something back. Charlie glazed her eyes over his features and swallowed a bit of bile that rose in her throat. "What's wrong?"

Her words made him snap out of whatever trance he was in, and he looked up in surprised. "Nothing," he said. He turned off the bike and stood to walk to the door. "Just lost in thought," he called over his shoulder.

Charlie followed him into the lobby. "What time is it?" she asked.

"About midnight," said Bass. They were standing by the elevators, but neither had pressed the button to call for one yet. At the same time, they walked forward to press "up", and their hands met on the button. Bass slowed, and Charlie stilled her movements. Their fingers were just grazing the others. Bass turned to look at her as his hand sought hers out and soon he interlocked their fingers. His gaze darkened as she turned to look at him and found herself much much too close to his face. They were merely inches apart, holding hands in the lobby for anyone to see.

The ding of the elevator woke them from their reverie, and Charlie jumped away from Bass to move to the elevator, where two stoned guys were getting off. Her hand slipped from Bass's, and he couldn't help but feel momentarily disappointed.

The ride up to their floor was tense, as it always was. The size seemed constricting, even though it was more spacious than most. The pair couldn't seem to stand anywhere but immediately next to each other, despite the feet of room around them. Nor did they mention it in need of more space. They simply stood and allowed the tension to permeate.

The elevator gave its ding again, and the pair moved to leave the elevator. The music could be heard from their stance, and Bass let out a heavy sigh. "It should be calming down by now," he whined and stomped in the direction of their apartment. Lucky for them, the neighbors were all around Charlie's age, and to be honest, already at the party. Bass walked in through the open door to be assaulted with bodies and smoke and liquid spilling out from cup and bottles from the people grinding against each other. Charlie followed, and her jaw dropped at the scene. She stepped inside and squeezed through the sweaty bodies until she found a pocket of air in the living room.

"Hey sexy!" she heard a voice off to her right, and she turned to follow it but became dizzy from the faces leering at her. A hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her around. She found herself face to face with a man about a foot taller than her. He was probably around 200 pounds and looked like one of those football players Danny obsessed with on television.

"Um," she stammered and tried to pry his hand from her arm.

"Can I get you a drink?" he slurred, spilling some of his drink down her shirt, most likely staining it.

"Well," said Charlie. "I'll get my own, thanks." She marched away to the bar, where Miles was no longer. It looked like a free for all, with people sloppily sloshing alcohol into red cups before stumbling away. All Charlie needed was a small drink before she went to bed, which was probably impossible. She shuddered to think of the things that were probably taking place in there right now.

Charlie scanned the table for an empty cup, but didn't find one. After the stressful day, she practically found herself craving one. "Do you want a drink?!" asked a drunk female voice to her right. Charlie nodded at the trashed brunette that was hanging onto her arm. "You can have mine! I feel awful." And then the girl stumbled away back into the crowd, but not before pushing her cup into Charlie's hands.

"Thanks," muttered Charlie as she took a sip of the liquor. It burned as it went down her throat, but soothed her rattled nerves. Needing more, Charlie upped the ante and took a large gulp. Her vision softened, and she thanked the alcohol Gods for their magic.

After a few minutes of mooching alcohol off of trashed sluts, Charlie felt her limbs weaken. The man that was talking to her earlier was back, this time with two drinks. "I got you the drink you wanted!" he said. Charlie's vision blurred, and she felt her lips trying to say something back, but she was unable to comprehend exactly what that was.

"Totally!" the guy shouted back.

Charlie yanked the cup from his hands and chugged it, throwing it to the side when she was finished. Her vision became double. The man was leering down at her, his nose practically in the cleavage of her shirt. Charlie leaned against the windowsill to support herself. "I don't feel so good…" she said. Her neck lolled back. The man licked his lips at the sight of her pushed against the window, and he stepped in between her legs and put his hand on her breast.

"Feel better now babe?" he asked, moving his lips to her splayed neck.

"Get off me…" said Charlie weakly, trying to push him away. "I have… boyfriend…"

"Don't be like that, babe…" he said, slipping his hands underneath her shirt.

"Leave me alone… get off me…" said Charlie, her speech becoming more and more incomprehensible. "Please…"

Suddenly, the man wasn't on her anymore. Charlie felt his hands leave her skin abruptly and a yell off in the distance. She watched through slit eyes as an unknown man that was too hard to see punch her perpetrator. She slipped from the windowsill and crashed to the ground, only looking at the ceiling. Then, she saw a man standing above her, trying to shake her awake.

"Monroe…" she said, her mind registering the savior's face. Then, her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted away.