~Chapter Nine: An Awkward Interruption~


CHARLIE

They're ripping me away from Monroe before I can even say, But wait, we weren't doing anything other than making out against the wall and maybe almost kinda having sex on this tiny bed! Clearly, neither one of them is in the mood to listen to any of my half-assed explanations. Maybe this is for the best, though, considering they probably wouldn't approve of my excuses anyway. I mean, for starters, Monroe had his hands down my pants and under my shirt, he touched me in places that I would rather not talk about in my uncle's presence, and he shoved his tongue halfway down my throat for a solid ten minutes. So, okay, maybe playing innocent is my best course of action. No arguments there.

"Mom, nothing happened, okay? Nothing – " Rachel Matheson's not listening, though of course I can't really blame her. If I had a daughter, and if I found her sitting in the lap of some man who had terrorized my family and killed my son…well, I kinda get where my mother's coming from, to say the least.

" – and what were you thinking, Charlie, oh my God, he was all over you –" She continues to talk, blabbering nonsensically about Monroe holding me down (not the case) and having his hands all over my body (so maybe a little bit of the case). She's tugging my top down, far more violently than strictly necessary. Covering me up, enfolding me within her limp arms, my mother tries to prevent any inch of my skin from showing. Unfortunately for her, this is damn near impossible; neither of us has a jacket, my jeans are already low-slung, and I am wearing nothing but a thin tank-top, after all. Maybe not the best choice in clothing, I admit, but then again, what does it really matter? It's not like fashion is a top priority around here. Besides, I'm pretty sure my combination crossbow/knife-holder isn't a turn-on.

My mother starts to tug me out of the room, but I'm not ready to leave yet, not after seeing the deadly expression on Miles's face when he first saw the two of us together. He's already stormed across the small room, grabbed Monroe by the collar, and now pulls him up so that they're face-to-face. Monroe has his hands in the air, holding them in the signature I-don't-mean-any-harm gesture, but my uncle doesn't seem to see it.

Instead, he growls, "You fucking monster. You bastard!" Before Monroe can open his mouth, Miles has punched him in the jaw. Monroe staggers back, almost falling onto the bed. He's disoriented for only a second, and then he's going after Miles, the two of the most formidable fighters in the country throwing punches and kicks, fighting dirty like nothing and no one I've ever seen before.

My mother gasps, shouting at them to stop it! and I try to break free from her grasp, but she has a surprisingly tight grip for someone in such great distress. Her mouth opens and closes, gaping like an out-of-water fish. Her eyes are glued to Miles.

"Mom –" I yell indignantly.

"Stop it, Charlie," she pleads, flicking her gaze back and forth between me and my uncle. "You have to leave with me. Now."

"No," I growl through gritted teeth. "Let go!"

I finally manage to rip my arm away, and just in time, too. Miles and Monroe are really going at it now; there's blood all over the floor. It looks like my uncle's nose is broken, and Monroe's jaw is peppered with ugly bruises. There are several rips in his shirt, as well as several bloody scratch marks on his chest that look unpleasantly deep. My heart aches for him then, for both of them, really, even as I race towards them, hoping I can stop this madness. I reach Miles first, and as I pull hard on his arm, my mother starts screeching for me to back away from them.

"Charlie, stop! Get back, you're going to get hurt!"

But of course I don't bother to listen. Neither does Miles, apparently; he hasn't realized that I'm basically hanging on his arm. A second later, however, Monroe sees me, and a flicker of alarm passes through his eyes. Then it's gone, blocked from my view, because Miles's elbow suddenly rears back and hits me in the eye.

The pain is immediate. I shriek, though more from surprise than anything. Covering my eye, I stumble backwards, tripping over a chair and falling flat on my butt. My mother gasps loudly, and this is followed by a squeaky, "Charlie!" The two men cease their fighting at once.

Hurried footsteps quickly approach, and then Monroe's kneeling down next to me, wrapping one arm around my waist while pulling my hand away from my eye. Inspecting the damage, his jaw tightens, and he turns to his former best friend.

"Nice job, Miles," he says angrily. "You could've really done some fucking damage."

My uncle's eyes widen incredulously, even as his eyes flick over me, searching for signs of an injury. "Are you kidding me? If you weren't being such a perverted asshole, maybe I would've –"

"Perverted asshole? Well, well, it's great to see how inclusive your vocabulary's become, Miles." Monroe shakes his head, barely suppressing an eye roll.

Miles ignores him. Instead, he walks over to me and crouches down, staring intently at my throbbing face. "I'm so sorry, Charlie," he says, concern imbedded deep within his usually impassive eyes.

"It's fine," I mumble. "My fault."

"No, this most certainly is not your fault." Then Miles proceeds to shove Monroe away from me. "And you…keep your hands off my niece. I swear to God, if I see you touching her again I'll –"

"I get it. You'll skin me alive." Monroe sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. Though he does remain standing a few feet away, looking wearily back and forth between me and my uncle.

"I'm not quite sure you do," Miles says under his breath, but I think I'm the only one who hears him.

My mother lightly places a hand on the tight knot of his shoulder. "We should get back to camp. Aaron's been there alone for far too long. He'll be worried."

Miles runs a tired hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right. We need to get back." He straightens up, offering a hand to help me to my feet. I'm a little dizzy from the sharp blow he unintentionally dealt me, but I manage to stand without too much trouble.

Monroe steps forward, reaching a hand my way. "I –"

Instantly, Miles has moved me behind him, my mother pulling me tightly against her side. Honestly, these little spurts of maternal protectiveness are starting to get annoying. Miles points an angry but firm finger at the reformed general. "You're going to stay away from my niece, Bass. This isn't something to be negotiated. Don't talk to her, don't even look at her, and we won't have any problems. Okay?"

Monroe looks like he's trying (and failing) to hold back an amused smirk. And instead of agreeing, he merely says, "Just like old times, huh, Miles?"

Grinding his teeth, Miles begins to push me and my mom out of the first aid station. He turns suddenly, tossing a casual threat over his shoulder. "And don't think we're not going to have a discussion about this when we reach camp."

It must be the dark humor he's injected into these words because the two of them grimace at the same time without the other one knowing; I think I'm the only one who sees both of their expressions, actually. My mother seems a little too preoccupied with sheltering me from the big bad world. Maybe it's a good thing that I'm the one who notices their obvious displeasure at having such a discussion; as much as I love Miles, he won't do anything to Monroe that I don't like. The same goes for Monroe; for some strange, impossible reason, I'm attracted to the man, and so I know he won't do anything to my uncle that I won't approve of either.

As my mother sits down beside me in the back of a rickety old wagon that's filled with supplies the two of them must've found on the road, and as my uncle makes sure Monroe doesn't come anywhere within twenty feet of me, I become perfectly convinced of one thing: when we return to this camp, wherever it is, there's going to be one hellava showdown.