AN: Sorry that I took a while to update and that these first few chapters have been a bit episodic in nature. I promise that they'll get longer as the story picks up. It just felt right to end them where they did. I hope you all are enjoying my take on Charlie and Monroe's flint-and-fire relationship - I still just have so many unresolved feelings about them... Anyway, just to clear up any confusion about the timeline of this story, Chapter 1 is set about a year after the end of the second season (I am allowing about a year a piece for each of the TV seasons, which brings us to a grand total of 18 years after the blackout), and as far as most of the characters know, the Nano is gone for good... This story is how I see Charloe's story progressing if they had renewed Revolution for well-deserved additional seasons. And hopefully, if you all like this story, I'll write a prequel that shows how my favorite couple got into the sticky situation they find themselves in in Chapter 1... So please review!

And just as a reminder, I do not own Revolution or any of its characters, but God help all the non-Charloe fans out there if I did...

Annie liked to believe that she wasn't exceptionally stupid; but she knew for a fact that she wasn't blind. From that first terrible dinner party at Monroe's colonial castle, she'd seen the way Charlie's eyes followed her husband, and the way that Monroe's hand clenched into a fist whenever it wasn't wrapped possessively around Charlie's waist. The two of them really did make quite a pair: a middle-aged dictator with trust issues and a beautiful young fighter who, rumor had it, had once tried to kill him. And from the whispers and sideways looks circulating around the ballroom, Annie hadn't been alone in her observations.

The gossip surrounding their marriage was legendary. The great Sebastian Monroe weds the niece of his former General, the Butcher of Baltimore, Miles Matheson. But even without all the speculation, Charlie never really had a chance of making friends within Monroe's inner circle. Everyone she came into contact with was either terrified of her husband or secretly wanted him dead, the second type of course blending seamlessly into the sea of Monroe's fawning admirers in order to avoid execution.

Oh yes, the New Republic, like the Old, still had plenty of executions. If anyone had ever thought that marriage might have inspired a more merciful side to Monroe, they were sorely mistaken. Sure, now he didn't seem like was about to shoot somebody in the face at any given moment, but if the brutality of of his officers was any indication, the goals of the New Republic would not be so different from the Old. And Annie sure as Hell wasn't going to wait around and watch the inevitable bloodbath that always resulted from one man's greed, no matter what her husband said about it.

Annie fingered the fresh bruises around her neck, and the one on her thigh that she hadn't even told Charlie about yet - there was really no point now. Wincing, Annie tried not to picture Alex's face when he found out that she'd run away along with Charlie. But, son of a bitch that he was, his cold, dead brown eyes rose up in her mind like a phantom anyway, raising goosebumps all over her body.

No she wasn't blind. If anyone could recognize happiness, it was someone who'd been happy once but... wasn't now.

Someone like Annie.

Charlie had been happy with Monroe. Annie'd seen it. Somehow or other, they'd stood side by side at every Militia event, smiling at one another, laughing at the private jokes only real lovers share when they're laying in bed at night. In fact, Annie still wasn't quite sure why Charlie was finally wiling to leave her husband. She only knew what Charlie had told her - that Bass was going to do something terrible and had to be stopped. But Annie wondered if that was all that it was. She didn't doubt for a second that Monroe could be every bit as twisted inside as her own husband if he wanted to. But for Charlie's sake she hoped he wasn't. Besides, she'd seen how Monroe acted around Charlie - always looking out for her, always protecting her. Maybe he hadn't abused Charlie the ways Annie had initially feared...

Through her lashes, Annie looked back at the only friend she'd ever had. Charlie may've thought that she'd fallen asleep when Charlie had failed to answer her, but sleep had never come easily for Annie. So she saw when Charlie woke up gasping for air, fearfully murmuring Bass' name over and over again. Annie's fists clenched involuntarily. I was wrong. Charlie was clearly terrified of Bass. She was having nightmares about him for God's sake! The man must truly be a monster to have hurt someone as special as Charlie.

The midmorning sun glared down at Sebastian Monroe as he purposefully strode straight ahead, his officers nearly running to catch up with him. Nobody could stop him. And from the look in his eyes, anyone would be a damn fool to try. Charlie had been missing for at least four hours, maybe longer. Missing… Bass slowed and nearly had to brace himself on Captain Hamilton, who'd been trailing him all morning. What if- Bass cursed and nearly stumbled. What if Charlie hadn't run off at all? What if she'd been taken? Dear God, if anything happened to her, anything at all, he'd rain blood down on the whole continent. Monroe spun toward his officers.

"Rogers!" The man quickly stepped forward.

"Yes, General?" Lieutenant Rogers was young but reliable, and Monroe needed every good man he had working to find Charlie.

"Have the men finished searching my wife's room? Bass tried to keep his eyes trained on the young man before him, but the sun in his eyes was making it hard. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, sir. No signs of a struggle have been found and there seems to be very little, if anything, missing from Mrs. Monroe's room." The young man looked crestfallen to have so few details to impart. "But Captain Forbes has ordered another sweep through just in case." Monroe's heart fell. No clues, then. He was an excellent tracker, but even he would have trouble following Charlie's trail.

The way he saw it, one of two things had happened. Either Charlie was abducted by someone who would very soon be dead, or she'd left on her own... Which she wouldn't. Why would she leave? She wouldn't. Wouldn't she? No. She wouldn't. Bass shook his head, trying to clear it. I know she wouldn't leave me - wouldn't leave. Maybe she wasn't very happy with you. No, she was. She wouldn't leave... Are you sure? She wouldn't. I know!

As he came to his senses, Monroe slowly realized that he was hunched on the ground clutching his head in both hands, trying to stop the voices. A buzzing noise by his left ear, which slowly evolved into a man's worried voice, made him cringe. Ssssssseeeeeerrrr, ssssss, ssiiiiirrrrrrr, ssssssiiirrr, siir, sir, sir, sir, ssss, sir, SIR-

"Sir!" Lieutenant Rogers was leaning over him, a nearly-frantic concern on his face. Monroe gripped his head even tighter.

"Get away from me!" Bass screamed. "Where is she?! I need to see her." Looking around, Hamilton and Rogers were a few feet away, staring at him like he'd lost his his mind. Furious, Monroe surged to his feet. "WHERE'S CHARLOTTE?" Surprisingly, it was young Rogers who answered first, while Hamilton continued to look on in consternation.

"She's not here, Sir." The lieutenant slowly moved toward him, a pleading expression on his childlike face. Bass sank back to the ground

"Where is she?" Monroe's head hurt like Hell, but he had to know.

"That's what you were trying to find out. In fact, Sir, I believe you were just about to organize a search party to begin looking for Mrs. Monroe." The merciless pounding inside Monroe's skull had lessened, and he found he could even focus on Rogers' face. The young man seemed to be able to tell that his leader was finally coming out of it because he brightened with relief. Accepting Rogers' proffered hand, Monroe pulled himself to his feet. Both Rogers and Hamilton snapped to attention.

"What are your orders, General?" Hamilton sounded wary, causing Monroe's own shoulders to straighten. Taking a measured breath, Monroe fell back into the role he was born to play.

"Organize a unit of your best men. Tell Forbes that both you and he will be accompanying me on this mission. Prepare for at least five weeks without any supplemental provisions, and pack accordingly." The President of the New Republic turned toward the younger man. "You too, Rogers. I want you with me. Tell the men to inform their families that they may not be back for a few months. We're not stopping until we find her-"

"General Monroe!" The shout from behind brought Bass reeling around, nearly colliding with the sergeant racing toward him.

"What is it, soldier?" Monroe tried to keep the annoyance out of his gravelly voice.

"One of the men just found something in Mrs. Monroe's wastebasket." He held out a crumpled slip of paper for Monroe to take. "It's a note, Sir."

Bass snatched the paper out of the man's hand and quickly began to read.

Bass,

This may come as a surprise to you, but really you left me no other choice. And if you're not sure why I left, just think about it - really think about it. You're out of control Bass. Just like before. And I'm not going to stand by your side while you murder innocent people for power. We're on different teams now, Bass, even though we both said that'd never happen. And even though I'm the one leaving, you know who really left first.

Charlie

Alex Hamilton watched the General's face carefully. Monroe was brilliant, no one could deny that, but it was times like these when he worried whether or not he'd made a wise choice in joining the New Republic. In the beginning, Alex had been dubious of the great Sebastian Monroe - hadn't the man lost his empire once already? Who's to say it wouldn't happen again? Hamilton's lips twitched up into the barest hint of a smile. Well, as things stand now, that would be me. As one of Monroe's closest advisors, Alex planned on doing everything in his power to ensure that the Republic didn't fall to pieces again. After all, he wanted to rule the Republic someday, didn't he? Better to keep it from self-destructing entirely then.

Refocusing his attention on Monroe, he noticed the way the older man's (well, he was in his mid-forties) lips were trembling slightly as he held the paper, like he desperately wanted to say something but couldn't. Alex gritted his teeth in frustration - all this sentiment. It was pathetic.

Why did Monroe even give a damn at all? Women are supposed to be disposable - when you finish with one, move on to the next. The little Matheson bitch hadn't been worth nearly this much trouble, even if she was hot as Hell. For his part, Alex wouldn't have really minded a roll in the sheets with her... He glanced back at Monroe. But judging by the way the General always looked at her, Alex had quickly realized that that was never going to happen. At least not until I'm running the Republic, that is. But for now, Alex needed to stay in Monroe's good graces. The man's leadership now would keep the Militia unified and the Republic's citizens afraid. Perhaps when all was secure, and Monroe had finally taken over the continent, Alex would see to it that the General suddenly died... Of natural causes, of course. However, until then, he needed Monroe at his best.

Truthfully, Hamilton had worried that the man had lost his famous inner fire in the pursuit of marital bliss. But as he watched the President read the wrinkled note, watched his icy blue eyes dim with disappointment and then blaze with deadly fury, watched the once-great General being resurrected before his very eyes, Alex grinned with cold certainty and thought passingly of his own wife. We're coming for you, Annie. Head high, expression dangerously calm, General Monroe gave the final order.

"Prepare the men. We leave in an hour."

At last, the true Sebastian Monroe was back.