In this chapter...well, there will be a lot of Charloe. Deeper Charloe. Hope you enjoy!

Crying and castles

Aaron walks in, midwhiskey.

'Looking for something?' Miles says drily as he sits around the kitchen table with his bottle.

'Yeah, I am looking for Charlie. Kind of a babysit emergency.'

'Just missed her,' Bass says, as he takes another gulp from his drink, as he is enjoying his time with bottle and brother.

Aaron does not look happy. 'Right.'

Then, tiny feet and a backpack walk in behind Aaron.

'Hey kid,' Miles gives her a grin.

'Hi,' Zoë says happily. Her smile getting more wide as she looks at Bass.

He sees her little brain at work.

'Or, we could watch her?' Bass shrugs. Aaron is turning kind of okay and he decides he could give Staypuft a break every now and then. That, and seeing Miles being uncomfortable around the little kid is just fucking worth it.

Charlie does not know it, but when she was Zoë's age, he himself in fact was the grown up supervision when Ben and Rachel let Miles spent time alone with Charlie.

Miles looks at him with wide mocking eyes that contain just a hint of you are not really fucking serious and some good old panic and Staypuft just looks at him like he has gone bat shit crazy.

'What?' Bass grunts with some wounded ego.

An hour later, Aaron went home, Zoë unpacked and Miles is passed out on the couch, snoring his ass off. His drinking buddy is now a five year old, and while he is drinking his whiskey, Zoë is enjoying a firm shot of juice. She had brought her crayons and some paper, and in her universe it is all she needs.

Bass drinks, Zoë draws.

Zoë looks up from her paper, into the living room as she listens to the snoring sounds that come from Miles.

'He is loud.' Bass says, as he grins at her while he looks over to Miles.

Zoë giggles behind her hand.

So far they have discussed lions, pinecones, his beard and the fact that she needed more juice and that she could get that herself. Which had resulted in more juice on the table than in her glass. But she had smiled happily at him and he had not cared about the mess.

'Auntie Chalie was crying.' Zoë says quietly suddenly.

Bass wonders how much of an emotional blow a five year old can deliver. He just got his damn answer. He moves in a little closer. His knees on his elbows as the girl next to him keeps moving the crayon over the paper in front of her.

'When was Charlie crying, Zoë?' He keeps his voice slow and relaxed.

But fuck, the thought of her crying. He had never seen her cry. He has seen woman cry for about just anything to get what they want, or use it as a way to get the upper hand in discussions. He has seen all that shit. But Charlie, not her. She always straitened her shoulders, and he never ever saw her cry.

Ever.

Not after she got almost gang raped in that bar. Not after Gould rolled her back into the tent camp in Vegas, and he could see on her face that she knew things would probably be very fucking over for her. Not after Austin, where she god dammit had to shoot that Neville kid. Old stinging guilt makes his way into his chest. If anyone should have shot that kid, it should have been fucking him. Miles. Not her. The one thing there was left to do and he could do was listen and see how Miles tried to get through to her, sitting on the wagon behind her.

The fact that she has been crying and she had let anybody else catch her, told him something was so fucking wrong.

He lead his share of interrogations, negotiated with all kinds of tug and assholes. He was a Marine. But this moment, with this little kid was making him all kinds of fucking out of place.

'I was asleep in the big bed and had a bad dream and then I went to find Chalie.' Zoë still moves the crayon over the paper, as she puts a window in the castle she has been drawing.

She is now whispering, looking up at him. The crayon in her tiny hand.

'Auntie Chalie was really sad, Sebastian.' He sees the worry in those five year old eyes.

Bass swallows something away. He has absolutely no clue in hell what to say so he just nods. Zoë looks up at him and nods back. Apparently it was the right thing to do.

'I asked Chalie wanted some water, because my daddy always gets me some water and my bear when I am sad.' It is a lot of words for a five year old.

If breaks his fucking heart that a glass of water and her bear still keep all the monsters away from her life.

'You did, huh?' He feels a smile coming up, the one thing he can think of to assure this kid in front of him and she smiles back.

'Yes, and then the crying was away and she tickled me and then we were princesses in the big bed.'

'You did good kid.'

Zoë looks almost shy now and she just looks up at him with bright eyes.

'You really helped Charlie there.'

Zoë decides she needs to finish her castle, and moves her eyes back to the paper in front of her.

'Good castle kid,'

'Thanks Sebastian.'

And when Zoë's mind is back with her castle, Bass mind is with Charlie.

The night air brings an October scent into the streets of Willoughby. Summer really gone, autumn almost there. It is dark, and small light illuminate the street in front of him.

This is probably fucking stupid. But fuck, he can add that to the list of really stupid things he has done in his life.

He has no fucking clue what he is going to do. Going to say.

He will wing it.

Because he knows Aaron is busy with the kid, Rachel is busy being Rachel, Miles is caught up in her and his drinking. The old men is busy with his practice and Connor is busy enjoying the local ladies. Maybe they don't pay any fucking attention, but he does.

And it's a million little things. A hollowness in her eyes that last only seconds, a shadow that falls over her face. And after what Zoë told him, he can't stay the hell away.

He won't let her slip away. He fucking won't.

Charlie is in the middle of her fourth shot, or fifth. She does not even care. They burn into her throat as she sits at the bar. Chris next to her. After he tried to kiss her, and she had turned him down, he had actually been a good sport and now, when they meet in the bar, they talk, share a drink. She is glad. He is a good guy.

She is in the middle of a bad joke when they get interrupted.

His eyes on the fucking loser next to Charlie. Loser telling her he will check up on some friends, nodding at her. Bass snorts at the easy way this kid leaves Charlie with his tail between his legs.

'So tell me something, shouldn't your boyfriend sit where I am sitting right now?'

'He is not my boyfriend Monroe.' her eyes tell him to shut up. She finishes her drink, and slams her drink in front of her, the glass hitting the wood with a loud noise.

'I don't know, it looked very interesting between the both of you.' He sounds arrogant.

Charlie has enough. She is on edge, tired. She can't deal with his asshole side tonight.

'I don't need this from you.' She snaps at him. Tells the guy behind the bar to put the drinks on her tab as she moves away from the bar, tells Chris goodbye for the night and is on her way out.

He catches up with her outside the bar, halfway on her way home.

'Wait up, Charlie.' He curses at himself how fast this has gone to hell.

She quickly turns around.

'I am so tired with everyone needing to know who I am seeing, who I am dating. If I am doing all right. You, Miles, my mom. Jesus Monroe, this is none of your business. Just leave me alone.'

Her outburst is short but heated. But there is also something else in her voice, a sharp sadness between all the stubborn warning that catches his attention. He watches her turn around, as she leaves him behind on the damn street.

Charlie walks into the front door, throwing her jacket a chair. Her fingers are trembling. She walks into the kitchen and decides she needs a drink. She is surprised with her outburst at him. She normally can take him being an asshole. But not tonight. She has shot something his way that she wished she hadn't. She feels like she showed too much of herself and she hates it.

She is so done with everyone pushing her. Her mom needing to know who she is seeing, Miles joking around about it. Monroe who always is asking in a non direct way about her love life. It's a topic that makes something burn and twirl inside of her and invite feelings that she does not want to feel. She can't.

Before she can grab the bottle of whiskey there is a knock on the door.

She waits, walks over and opens it. She knows it's him.

'What do you want?' Her voice is sharp.

She moves her hands in front of her chest. She is cold, and her stomach hurts and her body does too and she is so low and tired. She stands in the middle of the doorway, blocking his entrance.

She feels the absolute need of not having anyone around. She is not sure she can take any of his personal insults, or questions about guys she is or is not seeing or anything else for that matter.

'What, I am not allowed to come in?'

He watches her sigh. He is not giving up that easily.

'You do know you were being your stupid self over there again? And you do know Miles is not here?' She asks him.

'I am very aware of that Charlotte.'

He sees the confusion in her eyes. The doubt as she looks up at him.

'So, you are here for me?' She challenges him, deciding that if he is here, she might as well dare him to get into another stupid argument.

His eyes fire into hers.

'Charlie,' the way he is saying her name gets her attention, ' are you all right?'

More confusion in her eyes. After Miles and Aaron, now Charlie looks up at him like he has lost his damn mind within the same day. She crosses her arms even stronger before her chest as she looks away from him for a moment.

'I'm fine.' She says flatly.

He looks at her face. Her skin looks tired, so does she.. He can see, even from here, the empty bottles on her kitchen counter. Charlie knows how to drink, Charlie knows how to stop. But those carelessly put away bottles on the kitchen counter are bad news, decades spent with Miles tells him just that.

'No, you are not.' He says firmly, simply, his eyes back on her and Charlie is not sure if she can take this. His tone is almost challenging, but not completely. It is such a simple line, but it breaks loose so much.

She blinks up at him. He sees the first flash of anger fall over her face.

'Charlie damn it, you are not okay.' It comes out in a loud grunt, his fucking stupid way of trying to make her see he gives a fuck.

It is too much. Someone asking her, with those eyes, deep, gentle, familiar, if she is all right. Because she is not. She is really not. Of all the people that are asking her if she is all right, it is him. She walks into her apartment, needing distance from his and his stupid words. Knowing, knowing she gives him space to follow her.

She feels him follow her, hears him close the door.

The more she is trying to hold on and not fall into the centre of grieve and loss and hurt and guilt, the more she is holding on, tension through her body, pain in her heart, grieve and guilt in her head, the more she is slipping. And she is tired. So tired. And she has nightmares. She wakes up at her own screams. She is not okay. She is really not.

They boy she let her heart conquer 's face haunts her, in the middle of everything else, in the middle of everything that once was and now is gone, haunts her in her dreams or in her mind. He is there, falling again, dying again. She has the weapon in her hand. Again. Jason, the boy, the guy she loved for the very first time. She shot him. He tried to kill her. So she shot him, leaving him behind in that cold room on that grey endless short evergoing on day

But him, Bass, asking her about it. Bass being here, for her, for her...is pushing her almost over. He looks at her, and there is no more to hide. The tears start silently. He hears the first sob in the back of her throat. She is standing there in the fucking middle of her living room, as the first sob moves through her body.

Her blue eyes get filled with grey rain.

He sees the panic in her eyes. He does not think anymore. He just needs to get to her. Charlie hears his boots make sounds on the floor under him as he walks over, like her own heartbeats. Gently, slowly, a lump in his throat, he circles his arms around her.

It feels like he is moving in fucking slow motion. She does not move. His arms find their way around her as she completely fits into his arms.

Finally he locks his arms, his hands loosely on her shoulder blades.

Charlie had walked for years. She has walked from the home she knew for years, to Chicago, To Philly, to Willoughby, to Vegas and back again. She has walked so many miles she can't count them anymore. But now, finally, her legs give out. She can't walk on anymore.

It is that moment that she connects completely with his chest, and his arms move more firmly around her.

He feels her letting go, and he supports her, helps her, holds her.

His head ends up against her hair, and he stands tall, carrying her weight know she can't.

He has no fucking clue how long they have been standing like this. Minutes, an hour. He does not give a damn. She is warm, and light and heavy with sadness, and he feels the feel of her body in his arms. He feels the hurt run through her, he feels how her body is not able to keep her up now.

He moves away from her, not losing the connection with Charlie, one hand still on her shoulder as he moves her to the couch behind her. She is trembling. He crouches down in front of her, as he moves out of his jacket. He slowly pulls it around her.

Then he sits back down next to her. His lips pressed into a tense line, her knee almost touching his. Her arm still close around her.

'I can't... I can't stop it...I can't...' her words tumble over her words, as she cries and his arm is behind her.

Giving her space, but also grounding her at the same time.

'I know,' he said softly, his tone so low it resounds in her chest. Bass sighs, so much pain and defeat in his voice again, 'Charlie, I know.' How will he ever start to let her know he knows. He really does.

His voice reaches her, soothing her, making her feel that she is not alone. He understands. She has always felt this weird pull towards him, she has always been able since she came back with him to see things from his side too. He would still made her blood boil.

His jacket around her, his voice rolling towards her, are enough to finally break through. Tears turn into sobs, as sobs wreck through her body and she is crying, crying so hard. She has cried a lot lately but every time she reached the moment where she felt she was losing control, she has stopped. She can't stop now. Her tears blur her vision and she is lost in heavy emotions as she feels his arms around her again. She grabs his shirt, her fingers clinging onto something to keep her frown drowning completely. Tears breaking free and flowing into his shirt. She crawls to him, disappearing into the line of where his shoulder meets his chest.

'It's Jason...it's everything.' She cries silently, wincing inside and out when she says his name out loud for the first time in a very long time.

He does the one thing he can think of. He sits silently, letting her move into his arms, as he locks his arms around her again. His hand on her hair, stroking her back, holding her.

'I am so tired Bass.' She sounds exhausted, as she does not even has the strength to keep words in that she does not want him to hear, she does not want anyone to hear. She does not want to let out. But she is is. So tired.

And just like that, she feels how her body moves away from the couch and his arms are under his knees and around her. The sounds around her reach her in a different way, the world around her seems strange with exhaustion. His chest is so close, the sounds of his boots again so close.

Bass cannot remember the last time he shared a night with a woman without actually fucking her brains out. He forgot. Until now. Here he is, Charlie fast asleep, her face pale, evidence of the shed of tears on the skin of her cheeks. Her fingers still crawled up into a tight knot. Maybe in the world before this world has gone to hell, this, this would not happen. Him carrying her to her bed, taking his place next to her. But all those years on the road, all those nights they had spent together, her behind him, sleeping next to her is so familiar. He does not want to take advantage of her.

He just wants to see her through this night.

Her eyes sting, her head feels like a wooden log, like now the storm has left her body and left behind a static heaviness. She feels something firm, and smooth and hard and warm at the same time. And then, his fingers, going through her hair. A large strong arm that is all around her, pressure keeping her in one place where she feels she can just be.

And then, she looks up at him. His eyes are on her.

The town outside is still silent, the first light of the day is changing the colour in the room. Turning the black into something softer, something brighter in a calm pastel light.

She slowly moves away from him, remembering piece by piece of how much of herself she showed him.

'Water,' she says slowly. She walks to the kitchen and when she comes back he is standing in the room before her.

The darkness is getting some shapes again, and in the middle of the dark giving way to soft pastel, she meets his eyes.

He watches how the first morning light draws out her face. Can't resist to pull her close again. The gentle colours of her face, her full smooth lips and those amazing deep, deep eyes.

He keeps her locked in his arms, as he watches her. She looks at his lips, her eyes moving slowly and an explorative sensual look in her eyes. Hesitant, willing. He gently moves his fingers over her arm, over her jaw. And then, she moves towards him, or he moves towards her. He does not give a fuck.

Charlie kisses Bass for the first time, in the nook of his arms, with his shielding body close to her as her lips finally find his.

Bass does not move. His brain is fucking yelling at him that Charlie is kissing him and damn, she feels good. This, it feels so damn good. He waits, plays with her lips with his own. Slowly tastes her, without moving the rest of his body. Whatever the fuck this is , he does not move. He just kisses her.

But then, she moves. He does not know how long her mouth have been giving him sweet torture, but she moves. She turns her body, her breasts against his chest. Bass slowly moves a hand to her thigh and gently places it over him, helping her where she wants to be. Charlie feels how his hands guides her over his leg, and she moves in closer, disappearing completely into his touch.

She has been running. Hiding, without true aim.

But now, she is standing still, she does not have to run, she does not have to hide.

He is here. He sees her. He has her. He holds her.

Bass wants to take his time with her, kiss her, feel her under his fingers, feel the weight of her fucking amazing body in his arms.

She is there. And he sees her. He has her. He holds her.

She moves closer, trailing a finger over his beard. His arms are around her again as he moves them both back to a comfortable chair she has in the corner of her room. It is lager enough to make room for them both and the fabric is soft. He sits down as Charlie moves between his legs.

Charlie realises her boots are off, and that Bass took care of that last night.

They kiss for so long, when Bass sits down and Charlie stands before him, in between his legs, his chest and strong neck and curls and intense eyes so very close.

He feels his cock stir and he knows he can't keep this kiss this slow. He fucking can't. They either have to stop this or he has to have her.

Charlie makes it impossible to stop, as she kisses him with more edge, and her movements become more urgent.

Kisses. Fingers roaming. Touching. Exploring. Her tank is gone, her bra on the ground as his hands are on her back, on her shoulder blades as he pushes her further into his lap. Her hair caressing his skin, the skin of the chest that is bare before her, and tastes like him because his shirt is already gone.

'We can take this as far as you want to, Charlie.' His tone so good, so slow, so comforting and so damn hot.

Charlie explores his face with her eyes. His hands move to his shoulders, as he pushes her closer. She feels how hard he is, how this, what she is feeling, is what he is feeling too. He comforted her, he challenged her before that. He asked the one question that she was afraid of hearing. So simple. He came, for her. Now all she wants to do is let go and come in his arms, for him, for her.

' Bass...' His name is a whisper, filled with desire and trust.

He can see his eyes change, and she sees him.

Their next kiss has a new rhythm.

Bass grunts something she can't hear, but she feels how he picks her up easily and moves her to the bed. And fucking hell, she looks so damn hot in the first light. He sees her, smooth, naked before him, under him, all of her, all for him now.

He watches the honey and drenched place that he is about to make his.

And then, she opens up. All of her.

Bass touches her, his hand smooth around her. With her low moan, her name whispered in her own ear, and a deep grunt it happens. He trusts. Slowly with contained lust and so much more for her.

His whole world exists off her wetness around his cock, her moaning and the fact that Charlie Matheson, Charlie, Charlotte, is closing her eyes under him, as her body demands more, and she lets him take care of her and just the idea of her coming makes him push his tongue against his teeth with lust.

They lock eyes, as hardness meets softness.

Every time she thinks she cannot feel him deeper, he reaches her more. He is taking her with an intensity that makes it impossible to resist, to not let her sweat melt into his skin, to not let his mouth demand entrance. To not feel his body working and pumping.

When Charlie will come, she will take him with her and there is not a fucking thing he can do. But now, his mind is on her, as he sucks on her breast enjoying her, enjoying the fucking ride of his life.

After everything that happened, this fuck, this locking with her, is about so much, that he will doubt that anybody understands. Ever. But she is here, and now, she is fucking his to take, to have.

The sun rises, as the first golden warm light of the late summer day falls through the windows.

Charlie feels the warmth of the light on her skin, but most of all, she feels his warmth.

As you can see, this chapter was about comfort, about letting someone in, who understand, maybe even better than you thought, what life can be like. So instead of passion and all kinds of other goodness, I chose to let there be something else first. Comfort, time, feeling there is somebody who has you. Is there for you. Sees you.

Thanks for reading, until the next chapter? There will be one chapter, which is inspired with a prompt from the Good ship Charloe website, 'red panties'. After that, there will be an epilogue.