A/N As you might have noticed, the updates are taking longer as the story grows in length. I'm honestly going to confess that I had absolutely no idea where I was going with this when I gave in and wrote chapter two. I still don't. Suggestions are welcome, but know that I will be wrapping this up. I love your support, and I couldn't have written this without you guys.

The Black Hawks touch down in tandem, sand rising from the ground in a wide circle. Two teams jump out, boots thumping on the earth after hours of defying gravity.

They are greeted by a small group of the Militia. Only a select few have access to the sector where they store the tanks and choppers, for security reasons. They are professional as the generals and their associates unload while they get caught up on the situation.

It will be their task to spread the news of the limited power Monroe now has at his disposal. With a little bit of luck it will reach the rebels before they reach the walls with their makeshift army. They won't be counting on it.

"You have a visitor waiting for you in your office, Mister President," one of the officers speaks up. By the way Bass's shoulders tense, the news is a lot more urgent than it has been handled as.

"Right," he says, picking up his pace and forcing his subordinates to follow. "Miles, prepare your soldiers, make sure they and you aren't seen. I still want the rebels to think we are down six hundred soldiers and two generals."

Miles nods in agreement and takes the group of officers with him to rally the troops they stashed in the warehouses just outside Philly yesterday. "You coming?" Bass asks Charlie when she stays by his side instead of veering off in Miles' direction.

"Of course," Charlie says like there is no other option. He is sort of glad she won't leave his side. Monroe has gotten used to having this Matheson at his side day and night for weeks now, and he isn't in any hurry to kick that habit.

"Who is your visitor?" she follows up as they move through the crowd unnoticed in their civilian clothes. Bass leads them to the back of a building, where he uncovers a trapdoor. Dumping the leaves to the side, she notices that this scene has been disturbed already, even though Monroe hasn't been in Philly for weeks.

They enter the basement and move up, silent like they're sneaking into enemy territory instead of his home, and hers now too. The halls are empty, all guards assigned elsewhere while Monroe is presumed to be at the border.

Bass holds up a finger when they near the door to his office, gesturing for her to stop for a second. He draws his gun and tells her to do the same, before kicking in his own door. While Monroe points it at his chair, Charlie has his back, going for the blind spot; her own chair.

She has a man at the end of her barrel, his own crossbow leans on his forearm, arrow pointed at her center mass. "How where the Hawks, Sebastian?" the visitor asks, though by the way Bass cocks his gun at his head, he might as well be an intruder.

"How do you know about the choppers?" Miles had made sure they hadn't been seen, taking a detour across the wasteland to avoid wandering eyes.

The man gives him a Look, capital letter visible, and shakes his head in amusement. "I don't have much time. The attack will be at four tonight. They have grenade-launchers that will take down your Black Beauties, so leave them on the ground. Half a thousand, most armed with Molotov cocktails. Avoid close combat if you can and you might want to lock your girl Nora up, she's been leaking everything she can get her hands on. Nothing harmful, but that is only a matter of time."

"Anything else?" Monroe asks, acting disinterested but his attention fully focused on the information. Without an answer, the man slips out the door and back the way they came.

"Who the hell was that?" Charlie exclaims, peaking around the corner to see the hall empty. She closes the door and takes in the president. "Well?"

"Spy," Monroe explains shortly, reaching into his drawers and taking out a fake bottom.

Charlie tries to remember the man, but can't come up with any details. She remembers the crossbow, but only because she has an eye for them. It had been in top condition, well cared for, but standard and functional, nothing more.

He had been male, but he could be anywhere between twenty and forty. His eyes or hair color escape her, and while she could swear that he had an accent, it had faded into his English too far to identify.

"Russian, former KGB. Not that that would mean anything to you. Damn it!" he yells, throwing the cover against the wall. He slams the drawer shut, its remaining contents rattling.

"Monroe!" she whispers harshly, unsure how far the sound carries. His neck twists to meet her so quickly that Bass can feel the muscle pull. "He stole it. Again," he snaps at her, and she knows he means his current best bottle of liquor, which she has seen him grab between meetings often enough.

Charlie realizes Bass is playing some kind of twisted game of hide and seek with his spy in the rebel camp and sighs. Leaving that discussion for another day, she brings up the next subject. "I thought Nora had disappeared West." She had been glad her friend was gone, out of the line of fire.

"Nora tends to come and go," he replies with a voice of experience. Miles once said the same, and having met Nora, she doesn't doubt it.

"You gonna do anything about it?" Nora is her friend, and she doesn't want the woman hurt.

"Do you have a reason I shouldn't?" he questions, stalking in her direction, his intention clear. He wants a kiss in return for her friends life, and she has seen it coming since she touched her lips to his just a few hours ago.

She also knows that if she does this, if she makes this deal, whatever they have will explode in their faces. Monroe is a powerful man, ruler of the entire East coast of the former United States, and she can't let him back her into a corner.

If they aren't equal in this, if they can't work out their differences without trading every compromise for a favor, they will get destructive. No matter how well he hides it, Monroe is still not entirely stable, and if he flies into a rage now, people will die. Thousands will now that he has the pendants and the amplifier.

She gazes at him, calculating. Her next move might dictate the rest of her life, and she can't make a decision like that lightly. She deliberately doesn't cross her arms, avoiding a defensive posture. "Miles likes Nora."

Charlie is quite impressed with herself, sidestepping the question and taking the focus off their thing. Monroe is still hyperaware of every mistake that might harm the relationship with his best friend, the simple comment stops him in his tracks.

"We'll lock her up for the night, after tomorrow she won't have many rebels left to side with, certainly not enough for an attack. That good enough?"

"It's great," she replies. She has to fight the urge to kiss him for normal behavior, another aspect she wants to avoid. Rewarding him for not killing someone just feels weird.

"We should hurry," he says, guiding her out the door with his hand on her back. "The attack will start in ninety minutes or so."