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"Dammit! Where the Hell-" From where she was sitting by the fire, Annie had a front row seat to watch her sleep-deprived friend stumble through camp in search of her left boot. Charlie hadn't realized it was missing until after she'd laced up the first one, so now there she was, all blonde, fire, and brimstone, hopping through camp on uneven feet, trying in vain to find her lost boot. Annie bit down hard on her lip, but couldn't quite hold back the smile that was creeping up on her face. Charlie was on a warpath, and if she saw Annie smiling, she might very well skin her alive.
"-is my boot?!" By this point, Charlie had circled their entire camp at least eight times, and her muttered curses were gaining volume.
"Son of a- Annie have you seen it?"
"No Charlie, not since the last time you asked me. Three minutes ago." Charlie growled under her breath and fixed Annie with a hostile glare before returning to her search. Honestly, Annie had no idea where the boot was. And she'd never known Charlie to lose anything, so who the Hell knew? The thing could be anywhere.
Hey, if Annie thought it would help matters, she'd gladly get up and scour the campsite alongside Charlie. But the two of them had a much bigger problem than some lost boot.
Charlie hadn't had coffee in days.
Seven, actually –Annie had counted. And for those seven days, she'd been living in a veritable war zone, just waiting for the next missile to blow up in her face.
She wouldn't say that Charlie was a coffee addict – not to her face anyway – but Charlie had certainly become quite "attached" to a certain hot, brown, caffeinated beverage, which shall remain nameless, over the past six months. Annie honestly couldn't remember a morning in the whole of their relatively short acquaintance when Charlie hadn't been on a caffeine high from her daily coffee-time with Monroe.
This was all Monroe's fault.
Apparently, ruining the lives of millions wasn't enough for him. Oh, no. He had to personally make Annie's life Hell too. Thanks to that little piece of crap, Annie was now on the road, with only a limited supply of coffee – which she'd planned on saving until Charlie got really bad – and a caffeine-starved blonde who happened to be really good at killing people.
Screw that plan. Charlie needs coffee now, Annie thought suddenly. Her mind made up, she quickly pulled out her canteen and sloshed some water into one of the two tin cans they'd brought with them. Setting it up on their makeshift spit, Annie poked and prodded the fire, hoping to encourage a bigger flame. The quicker the water was boiled, the quicker she could make the coffee, and the quicker she could maybe get Charlie to calm the Hell down.
Geez, for the past few days you'd have thought there was something seriously wrong with Charlie. She'd been biting her nails – Charlie never used to bite her nails. She'd been telling jokes – weird for her – and not very good ones at that. She'd been humming songs that Annie'd never heard before, and when she'd asked what they were, Charlie had gotten a strange look in her eyes and had stopped humming, and then she wouldn't say anything for at least an hour. Then she'd just start humming again. She'd been, overall, as wound up as Annie had ever seen her. And now she'd lost her one of her favorite freaking boots!
Needless to say, things were a little tense.
Watching her friend circle around the fire once more, her fiery gaze sweeping side to side, Annie made a point to avoid all eye contact.
If she hadn't brought any coffee at all, well… Annie might as well have just shot herself then and there. They wouldn't have a prayer of making it anywhere with Charlie so on edge.
But like any good soldier, Annie was prepared. As she listened to her friend's angry stomping through their camp, Annie calmly kept trying to boil water over the small fire Charlie had laid that morning. When the water was finally hot enough, she removed the water-filled tin can from the heat, using the edge of her green flannel shirt as an oven mitt. Glancing over her shoulder, Annie found that Charlie seemed to have given up on her boot and was now just standing with her arms crossed and head down, deep in thought.
That's definitely not a good sign. Annie quickly pulled out the small tin of ground coffee she'd thought to bring with them when they'd left Chicago. After dumping about a teaspoon of the fine black powder into the tin of hot water, Annie gave the mixture a quick stir with her index finger.
That's how you make it, right? Annie shrugged to herself. Who the Hell knows?
When she was finally finished, Annie had before her a steaming cup of something that may or may not have been coffee. It was the right dark brown color, but the consistency, which was something close to muddy sludge, was a bit concerning. Oh well. It's better than nothing.
Well, she wasn't much of a cook, but at least she could boil water. Smirking, Annie covertly rolled her eyes at the blonde behind her, who had grown sullenly quiet. Thank God. And with the coffee finally ready, and she had to do now was get Charlie to drink it. Time to rally the troops.
"Charlie, stop sulking and get your butt over here." Annie crossed her fingers, fervently hoping that she wasn't about to get tackled by a pissed-off Charlie. Thankfully, Annie was allowed to remain in one peace and on her perch beside the fire. Instead, the slightly younger girl circled back around toward Annie, suspicious scowl in place.
"What's so damn important?" Holding up the can as a peace offering, Annie just volunteered a simple "Coffee" by way of explanation. Charlie just stared at Annie for a moment, and then turned her attention toward the extended cup of steaming, black liquid. Her expression narrowed, but her pupils, Annie noticed, had grown dilated.
"You brought coffee? Seriously, Annie? What, did you think we were going to host a dinner party while we were on the road?" Charlie's sarcasm, although seemingly genuine, lacked it's signature disdain, which only someone well acquainted with her would understand enough to realize it was absent from her voice at the moment.
Annie smiled, and gently rolled her eyes, not minding if Charlie saw. I swear, if Charlie isn't the most stubborn person I've ever met-
In all honesty, Annie was fairly sure that even if Charlie actually admitted to being a little grumpy lately, she'd probably rather blame it on her pregnancy than her dependence on coffee, which Charlie had always seemed to regard as a personal character flaw.
And was it any wonder?
As strong and independent a person as Charlie was, Annie knew she didn't like the thought of anything having an undue amount of control over her life. But all anyone had to do was set a cup of coffee in front of her and she was a goner.
Annie decided that the quickest way to get Charlie back to normal was to call her bluff.
"Fine." Squinting a bit against the bright morning sun, Annie pulled her hand back. "If you don't want it, then I'll drink it." Charlie's eyes widened a fraction – apparently she hadn't been expecting Annie to give up on her so quickly. Still, she didn't say anything. Annie lifted the can to her lips, prepared to take a dink if absolutely necessary. Honestly, she hated the stuff. But if that's what it took to get Charlie back into fighting shape, then it was more than worth it. However, one more try before drinking that awful stuff couldn't hurt…
Annie paused, the hand holding the coffee poised just below her mouth. Smirking, Annie switched tactics.
"I forgot. I absolutely hate coffee." She sighed heavily, infusing the sound with a good dose of proper annoyance over spending so much time making coffee that, apparently, no one was going to drink. Charlie remained motionless, her eyes wide and glued to the cup in Annie's hand.
"Sooooo…" Letting her voice hang there for a moment, Annie began to slowly tilt the can to the side, allowing the coffee inside to get closer and closer to the container's rim. "If neither of us wants it-" She jerked her hand a fraction, causing a few drops of coffee to fly out. Charlie made some sort of choking noise, her whole face twisted with regret as she stared down at the cluster of dark spots staining the ground at her feet. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out - she looked positively traumatized. For a split second, Annie considered ending their little Mexican standoff and just forcing Charlie to take the damn coffee-
Charlie's mouth twitched.
Annie's attention was immediately back on her friend. To be fair, Charlie had been through a lot lately. First with her husband, then with the pregnancy, and now she apparently had to walk across the country in order to save millions of people she'd never even met… and all without coffee. Maybe I shouldn't give her such a hard time, Annie realized, with a twinge of regret. After all, no one should have everything going against them; sometimes you just need one good thing in your life, and if Charlie's good thing was coffee, who was Annie to-
Charlie's bright smile broke through Annie's thoughts like a sunbeam through a foggy haze. Surprised to see her friend looking less than murderous or despondent, both of which seemed reasonable enough responses to Annie in light of recent events, Annie's brow wrinkled in confusion. Charlie saw her and laughed lightly. Moving toward Annie, Charlie held out her hand expectantly. When Annie still looked dazed, Charlie rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.
"Well, are you going to let me have the coffee or not?" Her playful tone, followed by a rather conspiratorial wink finally pulled Annie's disjointed thoughts back together.
"You're such a jerk, Charlie! I swear," Annie's rant seemed to flow naturally, with a force all it's own. "What the Hell?!" But Charlie just laughed again. Annie growled accusingly at her in response. "You know, I was actually worried about your sorry ass, but now, apparently, you are completely and utterly fine!" Blue eyes bright, Charlie just shrugged and opened her hand even wider, obviously waiting for Annie to hand her the coffee. Against her better judgment, Annie finally gave it to her, hoping it was ice cold by the time Charlie actually drank it. Small smile still on her lips, Charlie took a huge drink and – nearly threw up spitting it out so fast.
"Gaa, Annie! What the Hell did you put in here?" Charlie's voice was barely a croak before she descended into a coughing fit. Torn between feeling offended and vindicated, Annie settled on the latter, allowing a smug smile to school her features. Gagging, Charlie barely saw it through the watery film that had quickly formed over her eyes.
When she could finally speak again, Charlie slowly straightened back up, wiping the last traces of coffee from her lips with the palm of her hand. Then, Charlie met Annie's gaze with a small but cautious smile.
"Alright, I guess I deserved that. But to be fair, you started it."
"I started it?! Well, look who's talking, Miss PMS. I swear Charlie; I thought I was going to have to go find Dr. Phil, or something. You haven't been yourself the last few days and it's really starting to freak me out!" Charlie had sobered somewhat during Annie's little speech, and her expression now was a cross between regret and embarrassment.
"I know, Annie. And I'm sorry. Really, I'm just… trying to think through a couple things." They both paused, each hoping the other would understand. Finally, Annie sighed.
"I'm just worried about you, kid." Even though Annie was only about two years older than Charlie, she'd taken to calling her that from time to time. Because for all of Charlie's knowledge and skill, she still had so much left to learn… Kids that were forced to grow up too fast usually felt like they had the weight of the world crushing down onto their small shoulders. And they always felt like it was theirs alone to carry.
Annie didn't want Charlie to feel alone. And she sure as Hell didn't want Charlie to feel responsible for everyone and everything else around her. Because she sure as shit wasn't.
Charlie deserved to have someone look out for her for a change. And since Bass had failed so miserably, it was up to Annie now – as poor a job as she might be doing of it.
Annie rolled her shoulders, trying to work a kink out of her neck, and looked over at her friend. Charlie had returned to staring down at the ground, small smile curling her lips, shuffling the loose dirt around with the tip of her left boot… Wait-
Bass could feel his left eye begin to twitch. He better damn well have heard his first in command wrong – otherwise there would be Hell to pay.
"Say that again."
Alex Hamilton might as well have been staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. He would've rather been anywhere else in the world at that moment, but instead, there he was, forced to tell Monroe the truth.
The chances of him getting out alive after this were slim to none.
Probably none.
"I apologize, sir." He took a deep breath of the cool morning air – maybe his last – and pressed on.
"It appears that we don't have any coffee."
Sebastian Monroe simply stared at him, blue eyes blazing.
"Do you mean to tell me, that out of all the well-trained, well-prepared, hand-selected men in this company, not a single one of them thought to bring coffee?"
"Yes, sir." The president's jaw clenched so hard, Alex thought distantly, that it was a wonder it didn't break. Praying Monroe would let him finish the next sentence before blowing his head off, Alex hurried on.
"I have, however, sent one of our best riders back to the nearest town to obtain some more, uh… supplies. He should be able to catch up with us in a day or two." Coffee in hand, Alex added mentally. Although Monroe's annoyance may've briefly clouded his judgment, Alex knew very well that if there was one thing Monroe hated, it was appearing weak in front of his men. And his sudden, obsessive need for something as unimportant as coffee – well let's just say it didn't inspire any extra confidence in the man.
While Monroe's expression remained stony, Alex could see in his eyes that he was at least considering letting him live.
"Sir, if I may…" Alex lowered his voice and tried to ignore the cold bead of sweat he felt sliding down his spine. He took a step closer to the president. "With all due respect, I don't think that this is really the time to stop for a coffee break." Well, there it was. It sounded far less respectful than it should, but honestly, Alex couldn't seem to get through to him with just "respectful" lately.
Monroe examined him, one imperious brow cocked. Gradually, a calculating smile crept onto the president's face.
"Maybe you're right, Major." He glanced around, looking many of the gathered men in the eye. "Maybe what we all need is some whiskey instead." Monroe looked back at Hamilton, cold murder in his eyes. Suddenly, Hamilton's stomach felt like it was made of lead; he waited in near-frantic silence for Monroe to royally screw him over. The older man saw his fear. Saw it, and smiled. "Good idea, Hamilton." Monroe gestured grandly in the direction of the supplies tent, his forthright expression enough to make Hamilton's skin crawl with dread. "Why don't you go and get some for us." At his words, a rustle of excitement swept through the camp – the men jerked to attention, rifles gripped tightly in hands, eyes trained hopefully on Alex.
Dammit.
Well, there it was. The bullet in Fate's gun that would finally kill Alexander Hamilton. And despite everything, Alex was fighting a smile.
Monroe. That sly son of a bitch.
The damn bastard knew they only had a few bottles of alcohol with them. Shit, he'd expressly told Alex to save those for the officers. And now he was setting Alex up to take the damn fall for it.
Thanks a lot, you arrogant piece of-
"I'm sorry, General, but we don't have any with us."
The backlash was instant, albeit subtle. Soldiers shifted their weight, some of their hands traveling involuntarily to the triggers of their loaded guns. Monroe's brows were raised in an expression of cynical surprise.
"Is that so, Major? Well, then maybe you could get the men some coffee at least." Alex's eyes widened in exasperation, his jaw clenching hard against the words he really shouldn't say. Monroe's look changed to one of dawning understanding.
"Oh, I see." Monroe's face twisted in thought for a moment. "Well…" He looked back at Alex. "In the future, maybe you should think more carefully when packing to feed an army." Monroe stared straight into Alex's eyes for a moment, daring him to challenge it, before smirking slightly, turning his back and striding away, surrounded by the respectful murmuring of the men.
Although he'd never admit it, a grudging respect for Monroe began to grow within Alex. He had style, Alex would give him that. Pitting his men against each other, setting Alex up as public enemy number one… It was ingenious. Maybe more than that if Monroe had even the smallest suspicion of Alex's plans to steal his throne. And if not, the man's timing was at the very least impeccable: Now Alex was the outsider, and Monroe the men's hero.
It would make it that much harder to overthrow the president.
And in a way, Alex wished he didn't have to. Having Monroe on his side would be a great advantage – when the man wasn't completely off his meds, that is.
Yes, Alex admired Monroe's skill. What could he say, it was damn impressive. Alexander Hamilton wasn't the type of person to ignore reality.
But… Monroe had just tried to get him killed. And Alex also wasn't the type of person to let that go.
"Hey, you have two boots on!" Not Annie's most astute observation ever, but she'd had a long morning, OK? But Charlie, being Charlie, was going to take full advantage of it anyway.
"Wow, Annie, I'm so glad you can count," Charlie commented dryly. "It's really impressive."
"Haha, very funny." Despite her words, Annie did not look amused. "OK, joke's over. Seriously, Charlie, I mean it! I am so done with this."
Charlie just chuckled.
"I just wanted to see how long it would take you to dip into your 'secret' coffee stash." Annie just stared at her, uncomprehending. Seeing that she still hadn't quite put two and two together yet, Charlie smirked and went on. "You know it really didn't take very long."
"So you just did all that to mess with me?"
"Not just to mess with you." Charlie shrugged slightly, but her eyes were somewhat contrite. "I also wanted some coffee."
Recognizing the peace offering for what it was, Annie considered her for a moment.
"Well, if there was ever proof that you're an addict, this would be it."
Charlie's smirk was as genuine as it was mischievous.
"Yeah, well, don't tell too many people about it, Annie. Don't want word getting around that I have a weakness."
"You?" Annie rolled her eyes. "Who'd believe it?" She chuckled to herself and turned to stamp out the fire, not noticing the shadow that had fallen across her friend's face.
The two of them had packed up the camp and were on the road again. Annie was rambling on and on about something – a pair of purple stilettos she'd once owned, maybe?
Unfortunately, despite what was sure to be a fascinating story, Charlie wasn't really listening. Sure, she'd smile and nod every once in a while, give her friend the go-ahead she needed, and then Annie would just pick up right where she left off.
Charlie almost envied her, the way Annie could forget about the trouble and pain, even for a little while; focus on something better.
Charlie'd never had that gift.
They'd been moving south for the past week; a straight shot from Chicago to Texas, by way of the Plains Nation. And if they stuck to this pace, they'd be across the Republic's borders in two or three days.
Although she'd never admit it to Annie, Charlie wasn't any happier about setting foot in the Plains Nation again than she was. Between those New Vegas pimps, the scattered remains of the Patriot army, Duncan's surviving men, and the people she'd met during her self-guided cross-country tour, there were far too many people who could recognize her – people who wouldn't think twice about turning her in to Monroe. And others who'd be all too happy to kill her.
She wasn't sure if Monroe had put a bounty on her head yet, but it was only a matter of time. As soon as he got desperate, every bounty hunter on the East coast would be looking for her.
Charlie cast a furtive glance at the girl chattering on happily beside her. She honestly wasn't sure what Monroe would do about Annie. Would her name be listed on the warrants along with Charlie's?
Charlotte Matheson Monroe
Wanted Alive
Reward: 20 oz. diamonds
Knowing Bass, the reward would probably be something that outrageous. Something no hunter could turn down.
Charlie cursed under her breath.
God, the whole continent will be looking for me inside of a week.
And Annie…
Annie Hamilton
Wanted Dead or Alive
For Crimes Against the New Republic
Charlie was shaking her head before the image even faded from her mind.
Bass is not going to hurt her.
A gnawing pain clawed at her chest.
He's not. He wouldn't. Not after Danny.
Charlie's mind immediately shied away from that thought, even as the truth of it seared into her mind and made her wish she'd never heard of the Monroe Republic. And judging from what she knew of them, the citizens of the Plains Nation felt exactly the same way.
But that was one of the few good things about the Plains Nation: As many people as would want the crap-ton of diamonds Monroe was offering for her safe return, there were still plenty of people who hated Monroe more than they hated being poor. So maybe they weren't totally screwed.
At that moment, Charlie felt a small flutter in her lower abdomen. Immediately, she jerked to a stop, her hands flying upward toward her stomach. Annie stopped too and glanced at her in concern. Ignoring her for the moment, Charlie waited, but nothing else happened. No more movement, nothing. Hesitantly, Charlie lowered her hands to the hem of her shirt and slowly drew it upward until half of her pale stomach was exposed. What had once been a flat stretch of smooth skin was now slightly rounded and flushed with pale pink. No unsuspecting stranger would recognize her condition, nor anyone who knew her either, probably. It was too early for that.
Thank God. But then, Charlie grimaced.
But if they didn't get to Miles soon, she'd turn into a sick, waddling ball of emotions that'd be no use to anyone. Especially not to the baby.
Charlie started forward with a renewed sense of urgency. Annie trailed behind her, trying to catch up, calling after her to see what was wrong. But Charlie simply kept moving forward, her only goal now to make it to Miles' before she could no longer see her feet.
They had to move fast – while Charlie still could.