A/N: Sorry that it has taken so long for the update. I had a bit of writers block trying to figure out how the new militia turned so quickly. Thankfully last week's episode gave me some help. Plus, I've been on vacation. The next chapter won't take as long. I've already got it half written. This chapter is a little dark, especially towards the end. Thank you for reading and for any insight or criticism you may have.

Monroe lies in a heap on the concrete floor. The hotel above him has been converted into the new capital building for the Monroe Republic. The basement had been converted years ago by his old militia to hold enemies of the state in the Chicago area. Murderers, thieves and rebels alike had all been held here to await interrogation and eventually, execution. He is unsure of the time. He's sure it's been hours since the beating he'd taken when he was first tossed down here.

That son of a bitch Tom Neville had personally overseen it – watching with that sick smile on his face. Monroe had tried to fight back, but with no weapon and being outnumbered six to one in the small space he hadn't lasted long. Tom had made sure to get his own kicks in once Monroe was down. Literally – the man had kicked the shit out of his ribs. As he slowly tries to rise, Monroe swore he'd kill the bastard if it was the last thing he ever does.

Finally standing unsteadily, he hears footsteps approaching. Tom Neville appears in the shadows. Monroe grips the bars of his cell. He does this not only out of anger but to keep himself upright. He'll be damned if he lets Tom see him down once more. "Well look who's up," the traitor sneers as he stands just out of reach. He knows Monroe too well. His prisoner is tall and has a long reach. If he can get his hands on Tom, he'll be a dead man.

Monroe just stares him down for several minutes, eyes narrowing in disgust and rage. "I've got to hand it to you Tom, I never saw it coming. So tell me, how did you turn my son against me?"

Tom laughs. "What makes you think that I had to do anything at all?" He waits for this to register. He knows it's a bit cliché to reveal all his secrets right before the end, but as calculating as Tom is, he is sadistic enough when it comes to Monroe that he simply cannot resist twisting the knife in a bit further. He wants to see Monroe destroyed in every sense of the word. All of those years of being forced to live in this psycho's shadow; taking orders in fear have left Tom bitter. "This has been the plan ever since you and your son returned to Willoughby with that Matheson bitch and her little fan club."

Monroe resists the urge to lunge at the bars to get to Neville. He knows the man is just out of reach and it would only serve to sap what little energy he has left. He may have need of it later. Instead he plays dumb. If he manages to get out of Chicago alive he will need to know Tom's angle. "What are you talking about?"

Tom leans up against the wall across from the cell casually. "Please. After what you did to that boy's mother, did you really think he'd just follow you? He was more than agreeable when I approached him with my plan. He never cared what happened to you, he just wanted the Republic. Well, he's got it now. He doesn't need you."

Monroe clenches his jaw. Tom has just confirmed what Monroe has feared deep down all along. His only remaining family was only using him to get power. Granted, that was exactly the point of his bribe to Connor in Mexico. He'd known the kid was just a little thug – a big fish in a small pond. He'd offered him the only thing he could to save the kid from himself. He had just hoped that as they worked towards that goal, Connor would learn a few things and grow up along the way. "This will never last. The men will have a few things to say about this. They followed me, not Connor. They accept him only because I've asked them too."

Tom responds by gesturing towards his lower eyelid. Monroe shakes his head in confusion before it hits him what Tom is silently referring to. Tom laughs when he sees the understanding in Monroe's eyes. "Starting to get it? Half of your men are former patriots. Did you really think you'd completely deprogrammed them? All it took was a little tweaking. You never stood a chance."

"You're forgetting the other half of the militia Tom. They all joined willingly," Monroe still holds out the hope that at least some of his troops won't stand for this.

Tom pushes off the wall and stands in front of Monroe again, just a few inches out of reach. "Oh, you mean the men recruited from the old Republic during the war? They followed you because you weren't as bad as the Patriots. But, they still remember everything you've done. They lived it. Do you really think they are going to follow you over Connor? They know what you're capable of. And the ones that don't will be dealt with."

Monroe knows he's right. What reason would they have to pick Monroe over Connor; especially after he'd made a public announcement to announce Connor as his temporary successor? For all they know, this was the plan the entire time. "I don't get it Tom. What's in this for you? No matter which way you go, you're either going to be someone's bitch. Texas or Connor, doesn't matter. You're still not on top."

That sadistic smile again appears on Tom's face. "As if I will bow down to your spawn. He's a kid and a fool. He'll give me an opening sooner or later. And when he does I'll be there to swoop in and get what's mine. I will turn the republic into what it should have been." Tom turns and walks towards the hall. He motions towards someone that Monroe cannot see before he returns. A few minutes later four of his former private guards appear. The cell is unlocked and another beating begins.

Night is starting to fall. Charlie and Miles have met back up with Gene and Rachel and have filled them in. "Well at least he's finally getting what he deserves," Rachel says coldly. "I fail to see the problem."

As much as Gene dislikes Monroe, even he is taken aback at her reaction to Monroe's capture. "Rachel!" he exclaims. "Don't you see what's going on here?"

Rachel backs away from her family. She cannot believe they want to help Monroe. Sure, he was valuable against the Patriots. But that was all. "Can't you see? He betrayed us all by reforming the Monroe Republic. We don't need him anymore and he needs to pay for everything he's done."

Miles reaches for Rachel, putting his hands gently on her shoulders. He understands her outrage. When the army followed Monroe to Chicago he wanted nothing more to take his former friend out. It was the entire reason he'd accepted the delegate position in Jasper. But when he'd realized what Monroe was trying to accomplish, and saw that he was walking away before he could become corrupted by it, he'd had a change of heart. He still feels betrayed but deep down he knows that if anything, they will need him once more. "I know… But maybe for once Monroe's intentions weren't bad. Either way, if Tom Neville is helping Connor call the shots, we will need him to take them out." Rachel still does not look convinced. "He was giving it up, Rachel," Miles adds.

Rachel drops her eyes, feeling slightly defeated. "What do you mean, giving it up?"

Charlie finally speaks up. "He had just announced he was turning the entire thing over to Connor, Mom. He said they were going to write up a constitution and eventually elect a new leader."

Gene looks up now in wonder. "I don't believe it," he says to no one in particular.

Miles turns to Gene, "What?"

It amazes Gene that they aren't getting it. "It doesn't matter what name he was giving it. If what you say is true, he wasn't trying to bring back the Monroe Republic. He was trying to bring back the United States."

Rachel still doesn't want to believe there is an honest or genuine bone in Monroe's body, but she makes an internal decision. "Well, how do we get started? Anyone have any bright ideas?"

Monroe regains consciousness abruptly after being doused with a bucket of cold water. Jason Neville, in his brand new Texas uniform has done the honors. Monroe tries to take a swing at him, but he's held back by another soldier. The man looks familiar, but in his groggy state, he can't quite place him. He's shoved back to the ground and is locked in once more. Neville and the other soldier leave. He looks up to meet the sardonic gaze of his offspring.

"Hello, Dad." Connor drawls. The name is said with contempt. Monroe has to tense every muscle in his body to prevent the shudder that threatens to course through him. This Connor reminds him so much as the one he'd first met in Mexico. Cruel, twisted. Those are the only words that come to mind.

Monroe knows it's a waste of time to beg for his life. Even if it wasn't, his pride will never allow it at any rate. He tries another tactic. "I get it. I'm going to get what I deserve. I've told you more than once you should want me dead. But think about what you're doing for a second. Think about what Neville wants. He thinks the Republic should be ran the same way it was before."

Connor shakes his head and laughs coldly. "Really? Good. There was never going to be an election. Why would I work this hard to take it all over, only to give it up in a few short years?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," He snaps. "There's a reason everything fell apart before, Connor. Everyone still remembers what it was like before the blackout. They still remember a free country. Haven't you learned anything? If you make the same mistakes I did, they will resist."

Connor still has very vague memories of life before the blackout, but he was a child then. He was nine when the power went out, and he doesn't have a grasp on what freedom really means. "From what I hear, you pissed it away because you were deranged. That won't happen to me."

Monroe feels his heart breaking when the cold truth finally sinks in. "It already has," he says as he turns away. One hand is braced on the back wall of the cell. He cannot bear to look at Connor now. Everything he has ever done that has led them here hits him once again. If it wasn't for the monster he'd become, Connor would never have been sent to Mexico, and he wouldn't have been broken. Or, maybe Rachel was right. Connor was his blood through and through. Maybe just the fact that Connor had come from him was enough. This was all his fault. "Tom Neville will double-cross you and try to take over. But it doesn't matter. If you manage to survive Tom, this will all fall down around you, and you will end up just like me. I'm so sorry, Connor. This wasn't what I wanted for you."

Monroe leans his head against the wall, thoroughly dismissing him as his eyes burn with tears. Connor responds, but Monroe doesn't even really hear him. He is lost in thoughts of his own failure and self-loathing. He'd tried so hard to take all of the horrifying acts of his past and make them worth something. He had thought if they could bring back a true and worthy government now, then he could was at least some of the blood off of his hands.

It had taken all of his willpower to follow through with this new vision. His every instinct had screamed otherwise. This was the reason he'd decided to hand it over to Connor and walk away. He could feel himself slipping back into his former self. As they'd fought the Patriots, the changes he'd demanded in their men had been not necessarily out of the "goodness" of his heart. He'd demanded them because was logical. If you wanted to replace one regime when you were coming from behind, you had to offer something better. Every time he held a gun in his hands or wielded a sword, he'd felt the bloodlust, rage and power flow through him. And the lust for power had called to him like the promise of another high calls to a heroin addict, or the bottle calls to an alcoholic. So, he'd made the decision to walk away and retire. He couldn't change his nature, but he didn't want to be a slave to it either. And in the end, it wouldn't matter.

So lost is he in his own head, Monroe loses track of time as it passes. Before he knows it, Jason Neville and the other soldier have returned. He hands are bound and he is being led from his cell and up the stairs. In front of the hotel, a scaffold has been built. A noose hangs from the top beam. He is dragged up onto the platform and forced to stand on an old box. The noose is placed over his head; he looks around at the spectators below. Some look sad, others terrified. It brings him a small measure of comfort to know that at least a handful of people had believed in him. But, most of the people below look satisfied. A rock hits his shoulder, followed by another at his hip. He's willing to bet that Neville has given orders to keep the population riled. The rocks continue to come until one misses its mark and almost hits Jason Neville as he is adjusting the noose. The soldiers spring to action and force the crowd back.

Tom Neville and Connor appear. Monroe vaguely hears the charges against him read off one by one. He is in such a daze that he's not even sure which one is speaking, and cannot focus on the words. Moments later, the box is kicked out from under his feet and he drops down and is suspended only a foot or so above the platform. Whoever designed the platform has done this deliberately. The short drop ensures that the noose does not break his neck; his death will take a while.

Monroe feels it tighten, cutting off his breath. He kicks and struggles as the rope slowly strangles him. His lungs are burning for air. His struggles cause the noose to pull even tighter. His fingers claw at the ropes binding his hands, desperate to find a weak spot in the fibers. The spectators see his face turn red as his circulation is cut off. The rope turns with every kick. He is now facing the militia soldier – the one he recognizes but can't place. Maybe it's the lack of oxygen, but Monroe swears he sees the man nod. Not to him, but to someone behind him. Jason Neville maybe? As the rope continues to rotate, Jason comes into view. Monroe watches as he slowly unsheathes a knife.

He thinks for a second that Jason has taken pity on him; he will end it now instead of waiting for him to slowly suffocate. He is grateful for this unexpected show of mercy. Instead Jason's hand arcs up swiftly. In one quick motion the rope that Monroe hangs from is severed. As his feet touch the platform, Monroe feels another knife cutting the ropes that bind his hands behind his back. He collapses, coughing violently as the air rushes into his lungs.

He hears shouts and the sound of gunfire as he is dragged off the platform. Still coughing, they pull him to his feet. The crowd swallows the trio. The handful of spectators that seemed unhappy with his demise have realized what is happening. They effectively buffer them as the rest of the crowd surges forward. Connor's men cannot risk shooting into the crowd. He needs the support of the people, for now. Shooting them will not aid his cause.

Guards rush into the crowd as chaos erupts around them. Monroe looks around wildly, trying to make sense of all this – he has not caught on as quickly as the crowd has. Miles is suddenly by his side, wielding a sword, fending off any soldiers that have gotten too close. One breaks through and grabs Monroe's arm. The man falls to his knees a few seconds later, the fletching of a bolt is sticking out of his chest. Monroe turns his head and sees Charlie standing there in the distance, her crossbow still raised. It just now dawns on him that he is being rescued by the Mathesons.

He is pulled through the streets of Chicago and dumped unceremoniously into a wagon that is lying in wait. Rachel and Gene wait on the driver's bench. Charlie jumps in to join him in the back of the wagon as it takes off. The rest of his rescue party has split up. He looks up at Charlie. Her eyes are on the road behind them – her crossbow at ready and a pistol strapped to her thigh, just in case. As the wagon barrels through the winding streets, one of Connor's guards jumps into the wagon from above. He must have been waiting on top one of the lower buildings.

Before Charlie has a chance to react, Monroe grabs the gun from her holster and shoots. The force of the gun throws the man back and out of the wagon. Monroe locks eyes with Charlie as he lowers the gun. She is the last thing he sees before passing out.