A/N: Ya'll give me life with your ongoing reviews. Hope the wait was worth it! While you wait for the next chapter, feel free to check out my other stories – Run Away Baby, Last Name, and What Happens in New Vegas Doesn't Always Stay There. And if you do, please feel free to let me know what you think!

From her place just inside the door of the newly-arrived officer's cabin, it was obvious to Charlie that she wasn't there to stay. The man with eyes so cold and blue she'd taken notice stood at the far end of the room, instructing two officers where to leave his things. He hadn't brought much. Not staying long, apparently.

What a coincidence. Neither was she.

She'd be leaving tonight if everything went according to plan-

If whatever the man with the blue eyes had planned for her didn't take longer than that…

Charlie shook off the thought, refusing to let regret or fear cloud her focus. She'd made the choice to distract Slotnick from the recruit who'd asked when he could see his family. Now she had to face the consequences and just hope they didn't interfere with the plan to save Peter.

If they did… there wouldn't be much she could do to help Peter.

…Or Danny.

Throat threatening to close, Charlie swallowed down the frustrated tears that threatened whenever she thought of her brother. If she could only just get to him… If she could only get to Philly, find General Monroe and… and-

What? Kill him?

Charlie shifted her weight, trying to ignore the way the guards' hands kept straying from her shoulders, down her back… far too low to be professionally relevant. Slotnick stood nearby, but was too focused on his superior's movements to take notice of the soldiers' actions.

Not, she thought, that he would have stopped them anyway.

Across the room, the higher-up who'd ordered his men to bring her along was already busy with other business, and would most likely soon order his men to carry out whatever it was he had in mind for her. Although it shouldn't have been a comforting thought – especially since she still had no idea exactly who this new officer was, although it was clear he was important – Charlie was glad to be away from Slotnick.

The soldier at Charlie's right, his hand now at the small of her back, slipped it under her waistband.

Charlie huffed under her breath.

The sheer amount of abject irritation in the sound caught the new officer's attention, and he straightened from whatever he'd been doing, looking over at her with one ash blonde eyebrow raised.

"Do you have somewhere better to be, cadet?" For the first time since they'd entered his quarters, his pale blue eyes were once again fully focused on her, like a snake watching a mouse.

Charlie could feel the soldier's roving hand quickly return to its post on the middle of her back, and she wanted badly to turn and smirk at him over her shoulder. But she thought better of it – no need to make unnecessary enemies. Although she wouldn't be aboard this ship long enough for it to make a difference, she didn't want to risk being caught alone in the next few hours with a slighted soldier.

Especially one that had already shown an uncomfortable level of interest.

Meanwhile, the newly arrived officer, already impatient for a response, took a few steps toward her – but stopped, a frown slowly dawning on his face. Conciliatory remark ready to meet him, Charlie turned to look back at him, before her head was suddenly whipped to the side

Slotnick's backhand did take her a bit by surprise, but not nearly as much as the words that followed. "When General Monroe speaks to you, girl, you will answer him!"

Several things seemed to happen at once, not the least of which was the floor seeming to fall out from beneath Charlie feet. But that was just the natural combination her own shock, and of the soldier who'd been holding on to her making the wise decision to let her go and miss the General's fist – which was heading directly at Slotnick's throat. As she fell, Charlie heard the air leave her lungs all at once before she even hit the ground, the soldier's hurried retreating footsteps, the impact of flesh and bone on flesh and bone, the subsequent broken whimpering of Slotnick, and the haggard breathing of General Monroe.

Monroe.

Monroe is here…

Monroe!

"Get out." Still reeling on the floor, head spinning and heart pounding with fear and an unspeakable outrage, Charlie barely had a chance to wonder if he meant her. But Slotnick's shuffling footsteps sounded near her head and a moment later the door opened, closed, and left her alone in the silence. With him.

Flashes of a past life nearly took Monroe to his knees beside the fallen girl.

Family dinners he'd been invited to – awkwardly at first – as Miles' odd "Plus One." The "old pal from the army" shtick that had gotten him through so many other doors for Thanksgivings, Christmases, and Easters, had brought him into the Matheson house.

The difference was, after a while, he'd been welcomed to stay. He'd known Miles' brother, Ben, for years while they'd been growing up, but they'd never been close. It had always been Miles and Bass.

A little blonde girl with suspicious eyes that watched him as though he was an intruder – uninvited and unwelcome. Eyes which he'd later learned were full of concern for her little brother, Danny – he often had asthma attacks whenever he got overly excited. And he loved it when they had guests. Eyes that slowly lost their look of suspicion and turned curious when they watched him from across the dinner table.

Eyes that he could swear he'd seen in the cadet's face just moments before.

Monroe gave himself a harsh mental shake.

It was impossible – he knew that.

He was probably crazy to even consider it – he knew that, too.

But… recognizing those eyes just a moment before seeing Slotnick strike her…

Monroe made a real effort to calm his breathing.

It had been impossible to not react. Unthinkable. Not if there was any chance it could really be Charlotte…

"The girls said… that the boys only spend time with me because I am one." Small shoulders hunching further forward, Charlie looked down at her battered sneakers. "Charlie… it's a boy's name."

Bass sat quietly on the backyard swing set next to her, waiting for her to continue, knowing from old childhood memory that she would have more to say eventually.

"Uncle Bass…" she sighed, her voice sounding small and uncertain, so unlike normal. "Nobody ever calls me Charlotte. And that's my name!" She looked to him, eyes pleading for him to understand, to not think she was silly for being upset. She looked down at her feet. "My mom and Dad and Danny always call me Charlie. Even Uncle Miles does…" He could tell she was trying hard not to let her lower lip stick out in a childish pout. She always tried so hard to be more of an adult than anyone could expect her to be. "It's like they don't know who I want to be."

If it didn't clearly bother her so much, Bass would have laughed. Only Charlie would have the kind of sense of self necessary at ten to be having this identity crisis.

"So who do you want to be?"

Charlie shrugged, and didn't speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was a little stronger. "I tell them to call me Charlotte, and they just… laugh."

Bass frowned. He knew Ben and Rachel were busy with their new jobs, but they weren't busy enough to miss what their daughter was going through, were they?

Although he wasn't a parent himself, and didn't pretend to be any kind of authority on the subject, he knew enough to at least try to give Ben and Rachel the benefit of the doubt.

"Well did you ask them, or tell them, Charlotte?"

"Well, I-" Charlie's brows pulled together to frown at him, the expression in her eyes telling him she already saw his point, but was too stubborn to admit it. But then, as suddenly as it had come, the frown was eclipsed by her brilliant smile.

Bass smiled back – he could never help smiling back at her.

"Nice swing, Charlie!"

Before the words were even out of Miles' mouth, Charlie was already looking over to where the two of them were sitting. The huge grin on her face was clear as day even from her position on second base. Charlie dusted off her batting gloves on her uniform pants and gave her two uncles a surreptitious thumbs-up. As soon as Charlie's attention had shifted back to the next at-bat, Bass made sure to glare at Miles out of the corner of his eye, even while he carefully kept a smile on his face in case Charlie glanced back over.

"Dumbass."

"Hey, look –" His best friend since childhood threw up his hands. "Bass, I don't know what the two of you want from me." He rolled his eyes and shook a few more sunflower seeds from the bag into his palm. "I've been trying to call her Charlotte for the past two days. She's not interested. She said "only Uncle Bass calls me that" – like I'm some moron for not knowing that!"

But Bass just laughed at him, and Miles eventually joined in, both of them turning back just in time to see Charlie steal home base.

After a long moment, the man who'd destroyed her family began to slowly advance toward her. Still on the floor, Charlie knew she needed to get up, to get away from him. But she couldn't move. It was as though she'd been paralyzed by the fall – or by the sound of the name that had haunted her family for the past decade.

Monroe.

The man who'd turned the only world she'd ever know upside down with endless war.

The man who'd allowed– caused her father's death

The man who'd taken her family from her.

"Charlotte?"

Charlie's stomach dropped right through the floor.