Closer

Charlie realised in between wild hearbeats from a surreal distance that she was kissing Bass. She was surprised at herself, surprised that she was still in his arms, surprised that her mind did not tell her to push him away. She was finally able to taste him, to feel his strength pressed against her body, his muscles under his skin, wrapping around her.

After the intense dream she was not able to deny the want she had developed for him. It was a want that borderlined with the hate she felt for this man. The hate was still there, the hurt was still there, but the pull towards him, her gravitating towards him, was something she could not deny any longer.

When she had walked towards Duncan's camp, she realised that things had changed. It was not one particular moment that shifted her perspective of him. She did not understand herself completely, but there was no going back. She owed him from saving her life in Pottsboro, but that feeling had slowly shifted into something deeper. Something more permanent settled within her.

Need. Desire, adrenaline from her fight earlier and relieve he was still here. So, she kissed him, kissed him with everything she had. Bass cupped her face with his hands, deepening the kiss. His hand surprisingly gentle when they touched her face. One of her hands slipped under his leather jacket, wrapped around his waist, all hard and muscles waiting for her.

Bass felt her hand sliding under his jacket, her hand resting somewhere on his lower back.. He moved one of his hands from her face to her neck, slowly touching the soft skin before he let his hand glide over the sleeve of her jacket, wanting to reach for her hand.

When he reached her wrist he noticed the shift in her. She winced. He could feel tension running through her body. He broke away from her lips instantly, looking for her eyes. She put up a tough front, but he knew enough. Charlie never winced. Something was very much the fuck wrong. She stepped back from him when he reached out with his hand towards her arm.

'It's nothing, leave it,' Charlie avoided his gaze, pissed at herself for this, while she pulled the sleeve of the jacket over her hand, as far as she could.

'Bullshit Charlie, it is not nothing,' His voice an irritated growl. Damn her stubborness.

Charlie looked away from him. She knew this was his way of expressing his worry, Monroe style.

Kissing him was one thing, showing that she was in pain, because she really was, was another thing. She had trained herself to never ever show any weakness with this man. But there was something in his eyes, in the way he was standing in front of her, that made her take down the wall around her just a little.

Bass did not need any words from her, her eyes told him enough. He stepped towards her, putting her wrist in his hands. He slowly lifted her sleeve, hurt flooding her face. A deep rage took over when he saw the deep cuts all around her wrist. He found the same deep cuts on her other wrist. Her skin looked deep red and raw. Until tonight, she had not even flinched. He cursed himself for not noticing before.

'I tried to keep it clean, but I just don't have the right stuff with me to take care of it like I should.' Charlie was biting at her lip, feeling the raw sting on the wounds.

He took her by her shoulders and placed her on a wooden log not far away. He crouched down in front of her, his jacket flowing open a bit, his boots into the forest ground. Charlie let her wrist rest on his knees.

'Gould?'

She just nodded at him. Bass knew Gould, knew what the son of a bitch would do to a woman like Charlie, he had seen it in the asshole's eyes, the first time they had walked into the casino and the son of a bitch could not keep his eyes away from her. It ripped right through him that other hands had been on her.

When she started to talk, she did not have the stomach to look at him. It had been absolutely humiliating, being forced to put on some hooker outfit, knowing Gould's plan was to whore her out, like she was nothing, like she was worth nothing.

There was something in her that was afraid he would look at her, like she was damaged goods.

'One of Gould's men made me change into..' her voice sounded flat, like she needed that to make it feel like this was not really about her, that it did not happen to her, pushing the humiliation away. She did not want to finish that sentence.

'He chained me to the bed.' Her eyes went to the wounds on her wrist, remembering the feel of it. Bass was not moving. His eyes were almost gentle, but his jaws, there was tenion running through them.

'This asshole walked in the trailer,' Nausea started to build up inside of her, when she remembered the absolutely filthy and revolting asshole. She forced herself to keep on talking. Refusing to give into what Gould had done to her. Refusing to break. 'I knew I got only one chance, so I had to wait till he was close. '

Bass heard her voice break, a sting in his stomach when he watched her and how she was trying to control herself. Silent rage was building up inside of him, the thought of another man touching Charlie like this, making his blood boil from within.

'Charlie, did he..' he did not have the balls to finish his question.

She shook her head.

'No, he didn't. He ..was all over me... but he did not...' Her voice faded. 'I used the chains to overpower him, knowing I had only one chance.'

'One chance, and if I failed I knew you,' tears were pooling in her eyes, her voice barely audible , 'I knew you would not walk out of there alive.'

Now it was Bas' turn to wince on the inside. Hell, hearing her talk about him this way, tore him almost apart. Charlie Matheson gave a fuck whether he lived or fucking died. Again. He did not deserve this, not from her. He heard his own fucking voice again. ...try not to get yourself killed...or at least...wait until you are on Miles watch...Fuck.

'That guy is dead Charlie, he is never going to touch you again, I will make sure of that.' His voice was rough.

Charlie finally found his eyes again, seeing the protective rage in his eyes.

'Yeah, I kind of took care of that already.' More strenght in her voice again.

Her simple reply made his eyes lit up for a moment. Hell of course she did. This was Charlie Matheson.

'We need to take care of those wounds, Charlie.' His eyes were back on her wrists. She needed to be okey.

Charlie sat back on the wooden log, needing some time to understand. To feel. It had been ages since she let somebody take care of her. She was so used to being on her own, taking care of herself and the others around her, that she completely forgot what it was like to be taken care of.

She felt exhausted, her head heavy, every muscle in her body ached. Her five men were sitting around a fire, a little further ahead.

It had gotten dark, the night sky clear, stars appearing over her head. Connor was already asleep. He had raised an eyebrow when she had walked back into camp with Bass not for behind, but he did not ask any questions. Charlie was close to the fire, almost asleep, a blanket wrapped around her.

Bass had made some bandages from some stuff he had in his back and had carefully wrapped her wrists.

'I want to check these early morning,' he had grunted. 'Don't be a moron like Miles and take care of yourself Charlie.'

It had earned him a fast honest smile from Charlie.

'Get some sleep, Charlie, I'll take first watch.' He softly squeezed her shoulder before he broke the contact.

Bass finished his diner. He watched Charlie. Asleep.

Her lips on still on his mind. Her body touching his chest. The way she kept surprising him, the way she had put her life on the line to get him out. What the hell was it with this woman? Charlie turned around in her sleep, the blanket moved, leaving one shoulder exposed.

He put the empty bowl away and walked over to her, covering her again completely with her blanket, one reassuring hand on her shoulder for a second when he saw her tensing up.

When he walked back to his spot by the fire, his eyes were still on Charlie, watching her through the night.

There were two things on his mind.

One. He was fucked.

Two. Miles was going to kill him.

He grinned at himself. Those two thing were nothing new. Might as well see what the fuck would happen. Because damn it. That fucking kiss. That stubborn firing woman.

He placed his ellbows on his knees, his eyes on the surrounding of the camp, his knives next to him, the weight of his gun against his lower back, on alert, guarding their camp, her sleeping form not far away from him.

Oh, he was so fucked. Seriously fucked.

Thanks for reading, as you can see, there was a moment after Vegas, and it included something that showed us a more vulnerable open Charlie. She has been through a lot in Vegas, and it could not have been easy for her. The trailer, the filth, the dress she was forced to wear, knowing she would loose Bass, knowing that and deciding it was enough tos tay and not let him behind. I wanted to have a chapter where somebody noticed what she has been through, and that was Bass...

Thanks for reading! Love from LOve