"I know of a place where you can hide out until we figure out what to do." Miles folds the bounty bill and puts it in his pocket. "Alright," Miles says still with his bitchy-frowny face, "grab your shit, let's go."

"We've got a wagon and two horses," Bass tells him.

"Let's get um, then."

While waiting for Miles, Bass had already unhitched the horses from the confiscated wagon and slipped on their bridles. Charlie and Bass grabbed their packs, tossing in a few more odds and ends, and each walking a horse followed behind Miles.

They had walked a couple of miles away from the town when Miles stopped at an old shed that sat next to a collapsed farmhouse. "There's plenty of grazing for the horses outback," Miles tells him. "The well pump is behind the house. You should be okay here. You got food for tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll make do."

"I'll come by tomorrow, Charlie; let's go."

With a slight nod to Bass, she follows Miles.

The next day, Miles got tied up in town, so Charlie packed some food and went out to see Bass.

"You came. I was expecting Miles."

"Patriot trouble, he couldn't get away."

"Well, thanks for this."

Charlie stayed for a few minutes before heading back.

The following two days were much of the same. Late afternoon, Charlie would sneak out with food and provisions for Monroe. His nights were lonely. He had become used to having her around, and damn, he liked it. Truth be told, he missed her.

Bass was a doer, and he was bored just sitting around. He decided to scout the area, and he stumbled onto a Patriot patrol wiping it out and taking one of the Patriot soldiers hostage.

Miles showed up as usual, and just as he was dragging the dead Patriot prisoner to the shallow grave he had dug. "What the fuck! The hell, Bass, you can't go a day without killing something? This is you laying low?" Miles was furious.

"Stuff it, Miles," Bass growled. "You want to do something about these khaki assholes, or what? When did you get so soft?" Bass then slams a sheet of paper into Miles' chest. "Here, he sang like a canary. You always said there was nothing like a good hostage."

Miles looks at the sheet of paper Bass had shoved at him. "This is good…."

"Yeah, you're welcome."

They sat drinking around Bass' fire. "We should plan on taking out some of these camps," Miles states.

"Now you're talking."

"Charlie will be by later with some food. Stay out of trouble if that's possible."

"Good. I'll head out in the morning and scout that camp, then we can make a plan."

As usual, Charlie gathered some food and set off for Bass' hideout. Rachel had been watching her the past couple of days and wondered what she was up to, so this time she followed.

Charlie approached Bass' shed, whistled softly, and he popped outside.

"Hey," he greets her.

"Hey yourself. I have some stew and a rabbit that I managed to snag on the way. I also brought you a surprise."

"I like surprises, good ones anyway. This is a good one, right?" he said, grinning.

Charlie handed him the flask that she had brought with her.

His eyes crinkled with his broad handsome smile. "Share some?" Bass handed her the flask; she took a pull then dished out the stew.

Bass took the bowl that she offered and sat near his campfire. "Can you stay a bit?"

"Lonely? Miss me?"

"Yes, and I do. I miss your smart mouth."

Charlie grinned. "I miss your smug attitude."

Sitting down next to him, they ate in the comfortable silence that they had become accustomed to.

Rachel watched from the wood-line and was horrified to see Monroe and Charlie obviously friendly with him. (What the hell is he doing here? And Charlie! How can she even stand to be near him, let alone eat with him!)

"It's getting late. I should be going."

"Thanks, Charlie, for the food and the company."

Charlie stood, and Bass followed. Then she leaned into him, hugged him, and kissed his cheek. "See ya tomorrow."

Bass went stiff. Charlie was embarrassed and immediately backed away. "I'm sorry," she stammered.

Coming out of his stupor, reached for her and pulled her close. "It's okay. You surprised me, that's all," and he kissed her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yup." With that, she turned and headed back to Willoughby, stopping to turn and wave. Walking home, she was thinking of Bass; her feelings had changed. (I hated him; the hate is gone. Replaced by… what?)

Rachel was about to confront Bass but thought better of it. (Miles and Charlie have some explaining to do.)

Charlie arrived back at the house just ahead of her mother. There was a peach pie on the counter, and she was about to get a slice for herself when her mother walked in. Rachel was furious and couldn't help herself. She started right in on her.

"Where have you been, Charlie?" she asks in her usual passive-aggressive tone and her telltale twitch of her lips.

"Hunting. Didn't have any luck." Charlie turned back to the pie. (I wonder if I can get a slice to Bass.)

"Really?... Charlie, I saw you… I saw you with HIM! Monroe!" Rachel said in quiet anger.

Charlie raised her voice. "How did you?... You followed me?"

"You kept disappearing every day. I was worried about you. Turns out I was right to be."

"I don't need a babysitter, Mom. Haven't needed one for a long time." Charlie spits.

"What's Monroe even doing here?"

Miles had just come in from town and heard the raised voices of Rachel and Charlie coming from the kitchen.

"What's going on here?"

"Miles, did you know that Monroe was here, hiding out in the shed at the old Wilson place? Did you know that Charlie has been sneaking off to see him?"

"I did. She's bringing him food."

"Why didn't you tell me? And why is he here anyway?"

"I didn't tell you because I knew that this is how you would react."

"He's here because I brought him back with me," Charlie adds, hands on her hips.

"That's great, Charlie, very helpful," Miles says, sighing.

"I brought him," Charlie continues, "because he wants to help with the Patriots, and we need him."

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! I don't want him anywhere near us. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? How could you bring him here? After what he's done! How can you even stand to be near him? He killed your father, Danny, and how many others? He's an evil monster, crazy and unstable. He's poison, and he ruins everything and everyone he touches. We absolutely don't need him, and you are to stay away from him, Charlie. Miles… get rid of him." She orders, like Bass is a stray dog Miles is trying to adopt.

"NO! I WON'T STAY AWAY FROM HIM." Charlie shouts.

"Rachel…" Miles starts.

"You really think that we need him, Miles? After everything?"

"We can't do it without him, not with just you, me, and Charlie. We might as well just take our ball and go home."

"She kissed him, Miles…I saw her. Charlie, what were you thinking bringing him here? Are you really that stupid?"

Charlie is fuming. How dare she. She is so done with her talking to her like a child.

Miles looks at her, "Charlie?"

"It was a peck on the cheek. We're friends. We spent a month on the road together. I got to know him. He's not the same man that he was in the Tower. He's changed."

"You're really that naive?" Rachel says in a condescending tone. "He was just using you to get to Miles. He's a pathetic child."

"ENOUGH!" Charlie hollers, turns, and slams out the kitchen door, and takes for the bar in town.

Early the next morning, Bass took off for the Patriot camp he found out about when he interrogated the soldier he had captured. Not wanting to risk being seen on horseback, he walked. It took him almost three hours to reach the Patriot base on foot. Laying low on top of a rise, he watched using the binoculars kindly left in the wagon by the bounty hunters. He made notes about guard positions, perimeter guards, and shift changes. Once he finished gathering intel, Bass made his way back to his shed.

Sitting by his fire, he was anxiously waiting for Charlie. She was later than usual. It was Miles that showed up with his dinner. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be seeing Charlie, but he kept that to himself.

Miles brought out a flask of whiskey, and they went over the intel that he had gathered about the Patriot camp. "This is good, Bass." (his being here is already paying off). Miles thought.

They talked strategy, and Bass drew Miles a map of the camp's layout, including guard placements.

"I'm thinking Toledo," Bass says.

"Yeah, that could work."

"Can we get some explosives?"

"I think so; I'll see what I can do."

"Good, we can set some diversion charges then come at them from the flanks."

"Alright, we go the day after tomorrow, at dawn. Fry is still in town, and I want to meet with him one more time. The Patriots are up Texas' ass. I'm trying to convince Fry that it's a bad idea."

"Day after tomorrow then. We light up these khaki assholes and have some fun!"

"I'll send Charlie with more info tomorrow."

They never had the chance to attack the Patriot camp. It was mid-morning the following day. Bass was catching a nap when a smoke grenade crashed through the shed window. Jumping up from his bedroll, Bass grabs his bowie knife and explodes through the door and straight into a squad of Patriots. After a very brief standoff, he's slammed face down on the ground, hands cuffed. His hands behind his back, he's hauled him up to standing to face a Patriot officer.

"Sebastian Monroe, I'm Ed Truman, Commander of the Willoughby guard. You are under arrest for crimes against the U.S. Government, for the murder of a Texas Ranger, for war crimes… the bombing of Philadelphia and Atlanta with nuclear weapons."

"Yeah, right, I dropped the bombs…wait…what Ranger?"

Truman ignores him. "Get him outta here."

Bass is shackled to the inside of a cage built onto the back of a wagon and taken back to Willoughby, where he was paraded like a caged animal through the streets.

Charlie and Aaron were at the town market when they rolled the wagon with Bass through the gate. Shocked, she just stared. Bass looked miserable.

(How did they find him?) "Aaron, I've got to find Miles."

"What…was that Monroe? What's he doing here?" Aaron asks, dumbfounded.

Without answering, Charlie hurried away.

Miles was on his second whiskey when Charlie rushed into the bar. "Whoa! Where's the fire?"

"Miles, come with me."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

"Not here, outside."

Miles slams the rest of his drink and follows Charlie outside. "Alright, what?"

"They've got Monroe!"

"Who?"

"The Patriots! We have to do something!"

"That's just perfect."

Looking towards the old city hall, they saw the wagon with Bass in the cage and Truman making a speech with... (wait…is that the President of Texas standing at his side?) Miles says to himself.

"Today, we have captured and taken into custody the continent's most wanted man, ex-president of the now-defunct Monroe Republic… Sebastian Monroe." There is a smattering of applause and a few whistles. "He has been charged with crimes against the U.S. Government, war crimes against his own people, and mass murder for the use of nuclear weapons on Philadelphia and Atlanta. And he's been charged by the Great Republic of Texas for the murder of a Texas Ranger.

At 2:00, there will be a trial in the courthouse. A guilty verdict will bring the death penalty, which will be carried out at midnight. He won't live to see another sunrise."

"They don't waste any time," Mile muttered.

"We have to do something," Charlie says with trepidation. "Can we get him out?"

"I don't know. Let's see what they do."

After Truman's sermon, Bass was taken to the old Sheriff's office and placed in one of the cells. Miles and Charlie had climbed to the roof of an adjacent building and watched as he was frog-marched inside.

"Looks like two guards front and back," Miles points out. "Maybe two more inside."

"What do you think? Doable?"

"I have to think, let's get back home."

Miles grabs a drink and sits at the kitchen table. Charlie joins him. He sits quietly for several minutes. Rachel and Gene show up having just come from the show in town.

"So, they've got Monroe," Rachel says with a smirk as she walks into the kitchen. "Good riddance."

"Yeah…About that, how did they find him, Mom? It's not like a random roving patrol would have a reason to be up on that hill."

And there's the twitch, and Rachel looking like she's just dying to say something. Miles knows her and knows that something is up. "Rachel! Did you dime him out?"

"Damn right I did! He's nothing but poison. I wanted him gone, you weren't going to do it, so I did. And now he is! He's away from my family, and he's getting what he deserves."

"Well, that's just terrific, Rachel. We might as well give it over to the Patriots because now we have no chance. We can't do it without him!" Miles storms from the house.

"Nice, Mom, real nice." Charlie follows Miles.

Miles took up a chair on the porch and pulled out his flask. Charlie sat on the floor in front of him, knees bent, leaning against the railing.

Sipping from his flask, Miles is silent, contemplating their next move. Then he hands the flask to Charlie.

"Okay, this afternoon, you go to the courthouse and watch the kangaroo trial."

"The what?"

"Never mind. I want you to find a simple dress and wear it to the trial. Sit up front and show some tears. You're angry, the grieving daughter of a family killed by Monroe."

"A little close to home…."

"Yeah, well… after they take him back to the cell, wait a half hour or so, then go to Truman's office. You'll ask to be allowed to see Monroe. Tell Truman about your murdered family, ham it up."

"What if he doesn't go for it."

"You'll look innocent enough. Tell him that you need to confront Monroe, for closure, for peace of mind. Cry. Put up enough of a fuss, and I bet he will."

"Once you get inside, see how many guards there are. When you see Monroe, let him know that we're going to be getting him out after dark and to be ready."

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

"You'll take out the two rear guards nice a quiet with your crossbow. We go in fast. Take out the inside, guys, get Monroe, and go out the way we went in. We'll leave a horse out by the hole in the fence and send him to the old mill by the river. We'll catch up to him there."

"Think it will work?"

"Better hope so, or we'll be joining him."

Gene was sitting in his living room near the large open front window, listening in on Miles and Charlie.

Charlie found a prairie dress among her grandmother's things in the attic and a pair of low boots. As she walked down the stairs, Rachel looked at her curiously.

"Charlie? You look…nice. What's up?"

"I'm going to Monroe's trial."

"And you dressed up?"

"Then I'm meeting up with someone that I met at the market." That made Rachel smile.

Charlie arrived at the courthouse and took a front-row seat. At ten to two, Bass was led into the courtroom in shackles. He spotted Charlie right away and looked at her with a puzzled expression but kept on walking. He was stopped in front of the judge's bench.

"Sebastian Monroe, you have been charged with crimes against the U.S. Government, war crimes against your own people and the rebel resistance, mass murder in the form of the release of nuclear weapons, and the murder of a Texas Ranger. How do you plead."

Bass squared his shoulders, stood tall, looked straight at the judge, and in an unfaltering voice, answered, "To the charge of crimes against the U.S. Government, NOT GUILTY, there isn't a legitimate U.S. Government. To the charge of the murder of a Texas Ranger… NOT GUILTY. To the charge of mass murder from the release of nuclear weapons, NOT GUILTY! To the charge of crimes against my own people and those of the resistance, I plead…GUILTY."

The judge banged his gavel. "Sebastian Monroe, you are found to be guilty of all charges. You are sentenced to death by lethal injection to be carried out this midnight. Court dismissed." He banged a gavel.

Charlie didn't have to force any tears; they were flowing on their own.

Bass hung his head for a moment, then straightened up and walked with dignity from the courtroom.

Charlie left the courthouse and waited for an hour, as planned, before going to Truman's office to plead her case.

After speaking to Truman's aide, Charlie was shown into his office.

"What can I do for you, Miss…."

"Johnson..." Charlie takes a shuddering breath like she's nervous and composing herself.

"I would like a word with Monroe, Sir."

"Why?"

Charlie congers up angry tears, "He killed my family…my father, my brother. I want…I need to confront him with what he's done. Say my peace. I never thought that I would have the chance." Charlie sniffs and dabs at her eyes.

Truman looked at her while she wiped her eyes. "Alright," he hands her a note. "Take this to the jail; they'll let you in."

She leaves Truman's office and walks the two blocks to the Sheriff's office. Charlie shows Truman's pass to the guard at the door and is shown inside. There were two more guards in the office. They were playing cards and obviously not concerned with her. Barely looking at her, one of the guards asked to see her paper. Then with a cursory look and not seeing her as a threat, he pointed to the hallway behind him without leaving his chair. "Through there."

(Huh…cocky sons of bitches, they didn't even check for a weapon.)Charlie thought, and she approached the cell where Bass was being held.

Bass had heard her approach and looked up from where he had been sitting with his head in his hands and was stunned to see her there.

"MONROE! YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Charlie yelled at a bewildered Bass.

"Charlie?"

Charlie put her finger to her lips, and she whispered, "be quiet and listen; I don't have a lot of time." She waved him closer.

"I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE! YOU BASTARD!" Again, whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm going to say a lot of vile things."

Bass is still dumbfounded.

"We're going to get you out of here, be ready."

"YOU KILLED MY FAMILY, MY FATHER, MY BROTHER, YOU KIDNAPPED MY MOTHER, KEPT HER PRISONER!"

All of what she said was true, at least partially, and it was hard to hear her repeating those things, especially after he thought they had put that behind them.

Continuing, whispering, "After dark, we'll come in through the back. Be ready."

"I'M GOING TO BE RIGHT THERE WHEN YOU DIE! FRONT AND CENTER, YOU EVIL BASTARD."

Charlie reached her hand through the bars and took Bass' hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then she left, dabbing her eyes as she exited the Sheriff's office. It hurt to say those things again.

It was close to 4:00 when the guards came for him.

"Where are we going?"

"Bank vault," was the only answer. Bass knew then that he was screwed. There wouldn't be a rescue.

Miles and Charlie were back on the roof of the building, keeping an eye on the Sheriff's office when Bass was lead outside.

"What are they doing?" Charlie asks worriedly.

"Looks like they're taking him to the bank, put him in the vault. It's what I would do," Miles answers. "It's over. There's no way we're getting him out of there now."

"It can't be!"

"Charlie, a jailbreak is one thing, A bank job, that's something different. Can't get him out of there; there's just no way. Face it, Charlie, it's over."

Charlie and Miles climbed down from the roof and headed home.

As they walked, Miles thought about the sudden moving of Monroe and was convinced that the Patriots were tipped off about the jailbreak. Arriving back at the Porter house, he stomps into the kitchen. "RACHEL!" he bellowed.

Rachel came down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Miles, what is it? Why are you yelling?"

Miles confronted her. "Did you tell them about us trying to get Bass out?"

"No, I didn't."

Gene joins them. "I did, I told them."

Charlie was stunned. "Grandpa, they're going to kill him! Why would you? How could you!"

"He's only getting what he deserves, Charlie. You shouldn't be involved. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happing to you if you were caught."

"Well, you've both gotten your wish," Miles barks. "There's nothing we can do for him now. We might as well just throw our lot in with the Patriots or move to Cali!" Miles storms out and heads back to the bar.

"Grandpa, he's changed, and we need him."

"I don't believe that he's changed. He's too damaged. I did it to protect you from yourself."

"When are you both going to get it? I'm an adult; I'm not a kid that needs protecting! My decisions are my own! I managed without you for twelve years, Mom!" Charlie followed Miles out the door.

As Bass sat in the vault, he thought about his fucking shitty life. (Maybe this was better, better for everyone.) He thought about his parents and sisters, then about his chance at a family with Shelly and their baby. (God, I loved her. And Miles, Miles deserted me when I needed him the most. Jeremy …God, what the fuck was wrong with me?) Then he thought of Emma and the son he never met, and he asked the guards if he could see Stu Redman.

Charlie had followed Miles to the bar. She had one drink then decided to head back home to plead with her mother. She and grandpa were overseeing the execution. Maybe there was something that she could do.

Shortly after Charlie left, a Patriot soldier found Miles in the bar. "Hey, Redman! Monroe wants to see you!"

Miles looked up from his drink, "Me?"

"That's what he said."

Miles paid his tab and followed the guard to the bank.

"Monroe, heard you wanted to see me," then quietly, "How ya do 'in Bass?"

Surprisingly, the guards had moved to the far side of the room, giving Miles and Bass room to talk.

"Miles, I'm fucked. I know it, and I know I deserve it. I wanted to say that I was sorry that everything went sideways. We had some good times, though."

"Yeah, Bass, we did."

"Miles, I've got a kid. A son…Emma told me right before she died. I need you to find him for me and take care of him."

"I know."

"You knew?" Bass is becoming agitated. "YOU KNEW, AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME? YOU KNEW WHAT FAMILY MEANT TO ME! Bass was shocked and enraged. "YOU OF ALL PEOPLE KNEW HOW IMPORTANT FAMILY WAS TO ME, AND YOU HID MY KID FROM ME? "

"Emma's parents wouldn't let her tell you. Then when he was around 10, she wrote to me, this was after you started to lose your shit. She asked me to help her get him to her family in Mexico. She was afraid that you would find out about him, and she wanted him … she wanted him away from you."

Bass didn't say anything for a minute, processing what Miles had said.

"What's his name?" he whispered.

"Connor, Connor Bennet. You were in a bad place, Bass."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe having a family, a son, could have helped to ground me? Maybe it would have changed all that? HOW COULD YOU! DAMN YOU, MILES! YOU WERE MY BROTHER! WE LOOKED OUT FOR EACH OTHER! THEN YOU SHOVE A GUN IN MY FACE AND HIDE MY KID FROM ME! GET OUT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Bass was crying (I'm going to die and never get to know my son…). Miles left, and Bass wept. (What a fucking mess I made of my life… Mom, Dad, I'm sorry.)

Miles returned to the bar while Charlie was frantically trying to think of some way to save Bass. As the night wears on, Charlie is getting desperate, and she seeks out her mother.

Rachel was in the living room with a book. "Mom, please, there must be something you can do. I owe him my life, Mom. He saved my life, more than once."

"Just how did he do that?" Rachel asks with skepticism.

"I was in this shitty bar. I was drugged and about to be gang-raped. He busted in, took out the rapists, and got me out of there. Then he watched over me while the drugs wore off. And like it or not, we still need him. He and Miles make an unstoppable team."

Rachel just looked at her, then got up and left the room. Sitting on the porch, Rachel thought about what Charlie had said. She still hated him with all that she was, but Miles said he needed him to fight the Patriots, and she owed him his life for saving Charlie. She formulated a plan.

Gene was lying down. They were to be at the courthouse at 11:30. As the town's doctor, he had prepared the lethal injection and left the vial in his office-exam room. Rachel slipped into the room and switched out the vial of poison for one containing barbiturates. She would be assisting Gene, and her role was to prepare the syringe.

At 11:30, Rachel and Gene were in the front of the courtroom waiting for Monroe to be brought in as people started to file in. Truman had held a lottery for the general public to gain admission like it was a sporting event. Charlie and Miles wouldn't be there.

Truman and Carter, the Texas President, were sitting in the front row laughing like it was a social gathering.

Bass was led to the courthouse at 11:45. Charlie had positioned herself near the steps into the building. Aaron was standing behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. He didn't understand what it was between Charlie and Monroe, but she had asked him to go with her. She didn't want to be alone.

Bass approached the stairs in shackles, his hands bound in front of him, noticed Charlie and slowed. Looking at her sadly, he tells her to look after herself and to look after her uncle. All she could manage was a slight nod as she wiped away her tears.

Bass was led to the front of the courtroom and placed on the gurney that was there waiting for him, Gene standing on one side, Rachel on the other. (It figures that these two are the last people I'll see.) The sentence is read aloud as Rachel fills the syringe. Bass looks over to her, "I'm sorry," he tells her softly. "I'm sorry." Grimly Rachel hands the syringe to Gene.

"It is with great pleasure that I get to do this for my grandson," Gene says to him as he pushes the drug into Bass' vein. Bass' eyes go glassy; takes one last breath and then is still. Gene waits a minute, then feels for a pulse. He pronounces him dead, and Truman orders the town's bell to be rung.

Charlie and been standing outside looking up at the courtroom window when the bell began to toll. Aaron hugged her. "Is there anything I can do for you, kid?" She shook her head. "I've gotta find Miles."

Miles was just where she expected him to be…well on his way to being hammered. Walking to him, she lays a hand on his shoulder, and he reaches up and covers her small hand with his own. No matter what, Bass was still his brother. They had been through too much together, school, the Marines, the loss of his families, the Republic… Now there was an empty hole in his gut. He knows she's there…

After a moment, she tells him that she's around if he needs her. He just grunts and morosely returns to his bottle.

Charlie left the bar and headed for home, intending to cry herself to sleep. With Bass's execution, she realized just how much he had come to mean to her. And now he was gone.

Rachel had been busy. Earlier, she had found a small horse-drawn cart, added shovels, and a crowbar, then left it and the horse outside of the town walls.

Bass was placed in a simple pine box-like coffin, carried from the courthouse and to a waiting wagon. Just outside of town was a grave that had been dug earlier in the day. The coffin was unceremoniously dropped into the hole, and the hole filled in. There was no marker.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," one of the men said while the others laughed. Finishing the job, the grave detail mounted the wagon and returned to town.

"

"