They worked in the strawberry fields for the rest of the week. Bass had worried at first that Charlie might not be able to keep up; she was no stranger to hard work, but she'd never been exposed to all-day manual labor. He'd been pleasantly surprised by her determination. She would never be one of the fastest workers in the fields, but she worked steadily enough that the foreman didn't chastise her when she turned her carts in. They both pocketed enough silver coins at the end of the day to pay for their daily needs and begin saving a small stash as well. At the end of the week, Linda approached them about their plans when they collected their pay.
"Are you looking to stay on?" she asked.
Charlie glanced cautiously at Bass, and he read her meaning effortlessly, but he wasn't sure how to let Linda know what they wanted without making themselves look suspicious.
"We were looking to travel a little further south," he said finally, glancing back at Linda in time to catch her knowing look. He just hoped she thought they were looking for a safe haven due to Charlie's "pregnancy" rather than that they were fugitives from trouble.
"Javi is taking a group of workers to the next town tomorrow," she said in a kind voice. "I think they can squeeze a couple more into the wagons." She scribbled something onto the back of Charlie's worker card and handed it back to her. "Take your card to the hotel in Flor Dulce at that address. Ask for Rosa."
"Why?" Charlie asked. She flinched when Bass elbowed her, but Linda didn't seem to notice.
"She may have work for you to do at the hotel."
Charlie shrugged and pocketed the card. "Okay. Thanks."
The next morning they broke camp at dawn.
"We could probably walk to Flor Dulce and get there just as quickly as that wagon will," Bass commented.
"We could, but they offered the ride; we might as well take them up on it." Charlie replied.
He guessed she just didn't want to say that she was too tired to walk for two days. His suspicions were confirmed when, after they'd been rolling for a couple of hours, her head began nodding. He smirked as he watched her chin bounce against her chest several times before he took pity on her and placed his arm across the side of the wagon behind her shoulders. He pulled her against him to offer his shoulder as a pillow. He was pleased when, for once, her shoulders didn't climb to her ears when he touched her, but that was just because it would look strange for a man's wife to flinch every time he touched her. At least, that's what he told himself.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
"Don't mention it," he said drily. "But don't get used to it, either."
She jabbed him in the side with her elbow before she dozed off, leaving him to gaze out at the unchanging scenery: dirt, scrub, the occasional critter, and more fucking dirt. Occasionally they crossed a creek or river and the terrain would green up a bit. The next day passed in much the same way, with Charlie napping a large portion of the way, even though she had slept soundly the night before. When they reached Flor Dulce that evening, they found the hotel Linda had mentioned without a problem - it was the only one in the small town. It also served as the town's only restaurant and bar.
"Hola," the woman at the bar said without looking at them when they entered. When Charlie returned her greeting, she glanced up, as if surprised. "Oh. Can I help you? Do the two of you need a room?"
Charlie walked over and handed her the card. "Hi, are you Rosa?" When the woman nodded, she continued, "Linda said you might have work for me."
The woman raised her brows in a speculative expression. "Strange, usually the workers she sends down here just report straight to the fields."
"Um, I'm a little pregnant," Charlie said, feeling her face heat up under the woman's scrutiny, especially when she laughed.
"There's no such thing as a little pregnant," she said, smiling kindly. "It just so happens one of my housekeepers quit the other day. It's hard work, but at least it's indoors out of the sun. If you want it, the job is yours; you can start tomorrow."
"I'll take it, thank you," Charlie said.
"Is that your man?" Rosa asked, gesturing at Bass.
Charlie, blushing profusely now, couldn't make herself answer, and looked over to Bass. She was ready to kill him for inventing this charade in the first place. Bass noticed her discomfort and grinned wickedly, snaking his arm around her waist to pull her close enough to his side that their hips touched before finally answering Rosa's question.
"You better believe it," he said. "I'm James King, and this is my wife, Charlie Bennett." When Rosa frowned at their names, Bass reached across to splay his other hand over Charlie's bare stomach. "She's still a little upset about our impending bundle of joy so she refused to take my name after the ceremony," he said with a wink toward Rosa. Then he leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to Charlie's temple, and allowed his hand to drift down from her waist to cup her ass. Charlie's eyes flew open wide as she inhaled sharply and reached down to grasp his hand with her own and pinched it hard before placing it firmly at her waist.
"James, honey, you're embarrassing me," she said in a sweet voice that she hoped didn't sound hopelessly fake.
"I can't help it, sweetheart," he replied in a seductive tone, struggling to cover his mirth. "You make it so easy."
Rosa just chuckled at them. "Newlyweds?" she asked.
"Yes ma'am, going on two weeks, now," Bass answered. "Just can't keep my hands off her. Guess that's why we're in this little pickle," he added, laying on the charm. When Charlie buried her pink cheeks in her hands, it was all he could do not to fall on the floor laughing. He knew he'd pay for it later, but it would be worth it.
"I might have work for you, too," Rosa said. "Have you ever tended bar?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, continuing his charade as a friendly Texan transplant. Charlie wondered when he'd ever been a bartender; it wasn't something she could picture General Sebastian Monroe doing.
"Good, you're both hired," Rosa said, sounding pleased. "You can start tomorrow; the restaurant opens at noon and stays open until ten each evening, except Sundays." She gestured to the room around her. "As you can see, the restaurant and bar are closed on Sunday evenings. If you need a place to stay, I can even rent you a room on a weekly basis."
"Uh, actually-" Charlie began, but Bass quickly interrupted before she could request a second room.
"We'll take it," he said, with a pointed glance at Charlie warning her not to argue.
Rosa gave them two keys to one of the rooms on the second floor and bid them goodnight after Bass paid for their first night out of their small stash of silver coins. The room was small but clean, furnished with a king-sized bed, a dresser with a pitcher and wash basin, a small, round table and two chairs, plus a small sofa. As soon as Bass had closed the door behind him, Charlie fixed him with a cold glare.
"The next time you grab my ass like that, you'll be full of holes so fast you won't know what hit you," she promised.
"Relax, Charlotte. I was just trying to sell the story," he said. " Don't you think it would look a little weird for a newly-married couple with a baby on the way to avoid each other like the plague?"
"Then maybe you shouldn't have concocted that stupid story in the first place!" Charlie hissed.
Bass narrowed his eyes at her. "Would you rather have stayed in Texas alone?"
Charlie's anger began to dissolve as quickly as it had flared to life. As insane as it sounded, Bass was the closest thing to family she had left, the only person in the world with a connection to her parents and her uncle. "No," she said in a husky voice. After swallowing hard, she added, "Thank you for getting him to take me, too."
He appeared pleasantly surprised by her expression of gratitude. "You're welcome," he said. "I'm sorry for grabbing your ass. But you should have seen the look on your face," he added with unconcealed glee, ducking when she fired a pillow at him. "Okay, okay, I get it. But really, Rosa will start to get suspicious if you make it look like you can't stand to touch me with a ten-foot pole. And a married woman is usually safer from unwanted attention these days than one who is single."
"Fine. I can live with you putting your arm around me. Just don't grab my ass anymore," she grumbled.
"Yes ma'am," he drawled in the same affected Texan accent he'd used on Rosa. "One more thing, you're going to have to get used to calling me James. You hesitated down there."
"I'll work on it," she said, attempting to walk around him to start putting her things away in the dresser. He stopped her with a gentle grasp on her arm.
"I mean it, Charlie," he said in a low voice. "You know what happened last time I was here. Connor's boss knew good and well who I was. Unless you're that eager to see me hang, don't call me Bass anymore, even when we're alone."
"I won't," she promised. He let her go, but as she walked toward the dresser, she glanced over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised and added in a warning tone, "Unless you grab my ass in front of someone again."
He laughed. "Fair enough."
After she had finished unpacking, Charlie stretched and gave an enormous yawn.
"I'm exhausted," she said. "I never thought riding around in a wagon all day would be that tiring. I'm going to bed."
"I'm going to find something to eat," Bass said, unable to stand the thought of being cooped up after sitting in a wagon for past two days. "Want me to bring you something?"
"No thanks. I'm not really hungry; I'd rather just sleep," she said as she stretched out on the mattress with a contented groan. "It's been, what, a month since I had a real bed to sleep in?"
"All right. Just don't blame me when you wake up in the middle of the night hungry enough to gnaw your own arm off," Bass said. He rinsed his face and hands with water from the pitcher on the dresser. Then he fished one of the keys out of his pocket and placed it on the dresser in case she changed her mind. He paused at the door to look back, just to make sure she wasn't having second thoughts. She appeared to be already asleep; which had him a little concerned. He hoped she wasn't coming down with something.
After he had supper at the restaurant, he chatted with Rosa for a few minutes before he went for a walk around the small town by himself, exploring. It wasn't much different from Willoughby. There were a couple of shops but most trade seemed to be conducted in an open-air market, and the main part of town was surrounded by a tall fence with a gate. There was a river nearby, and agriculture in the area was obviously thriving. He just hoped they were well out of Nunez's territory.
Charlie didn't stir when he crept back into the hotel room shortly before midnight. He glanced at the bed longingly. They'd been traveling together for three weeks, and for the past week they'd shared a small tent. Still, he didn't relish the thought of waking up in the middle of the night and discovering she had aerated vital parts of his body with her knife for assuming she wouldn't mind sharing the bed. From now on we're alternating, whether she likes it or not, he thought.
He made himself as comfortable on the sofa as possible, which wasn't easy. The cushions weren't much softer than the ground and the thing was upholstered in the scratchiest fabric it had ever been his displeasure to come in contact with. The only saving grace was that a breeze wafted in from the open window, counteracting the stuffiness of the room. Finally, with the help of his flask, he managed to doze off.
When Bass awoke, it was still dark outside. He was disoriented for a moment, confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. He sat up and glanced around, searching for Charlie. When he spied her curled up on the bed, he remembered they had rented a room from Rosa, and he had opted to sleep on the couch. He watched her for a moment and realized she was murmuring something in her sleep.
"Stop. Stop."
As he watched, her hands fluttered to her throat, and she began clawing at it.
"Stop. Please, stop," she said. Her voice and breathing sounded choked and frantic now, as if invisible hands were choking her. Bass rose up from the sofa and approached the bed, sitting at the edge.
"Charlie?" he said quietly, hoping she'd calm without him having to wake her. Instead, she thrashed from side to side, still caught in her nightmare.
"This isn't you," she said, sharply at first, then again, pleading, "Please, this isn't you."
"Charlie?" Bass called again, louder this time, but his words still didn't penetrate whatever horrific vision she was trapped inside of.
"Stay back. Stay back; stay back!" she chanted, panting now.
Bass was certain he knew what she was dreaming about, and he couldn't let her reach the conclusion. He reached out and firmly shook her shoulder as he called her name once more. At the same time she cried, "I'm begging you, please!"
Then she bolted upright with a gasp, glancing around wildly, her terror-filled eyes brimming with tears. When her gaze landed on Bass, he spoke softly.
"Hey, that's all over now. You're safe here; it's over."
When she shook her head no, a few tears spilled over, despite her obvious efforts to hold them back, so she wiped them away angrily. He couldn't help but reach out and pull her into his arms, where she let out a few choked sobs against his shoulder as she clutched desperately at his sides.
"It only gets worse if you don't let it out, Charlie. I ought to know," he murmured into her hair. Unconsciously, he began to rub her back in soothing circles.
"How do you know?" she asked, her voice muffled by his shirt.
"Miles ever tell you I was married once?" he asked, shifting backward so he could lean against the pillows piled against the headboard, pulling her with him.
She shook her head no against his chest and asked, "When?"
"A few years after the blackout. We didn't have any way to make it official, but as far as I was concerned, she was my wife. I would have done anything for her."
Charlie's fingers tightened, curling into the fabric of his shirt. "What happened?"
Bass closed his eyes. He was starting to regret opening this topic of conversation. It was one he had never discussed with anyone but Miles, and their discussion of it was limited to his sobbing on his best friend's shoulder, his hands covered in Shelly's blood. Even now, thinking about it made a small, hard knot of suppressed pain somewhere inside of him swell and ache.
"She died in my arms," he said at last. As a distraction from the memory, and just to see what she'd do, he lifted his hand and stroked her hair once,. When she didn't protest, he combed his fingers through it, gently untangling the strands as he went. She inhaled a shuddering breath, then exhaled with a long sigh, the last remnants of her sobs, he hoped.
"How did she die?" she asked.
"Insufficient medical care," was his terse reply.
He knew that wasn't the answer she was looking for, but it was the only answer he could give at the moment. He breathed a sigh of relief when she accepted that answer without further questions, but there was one more thing he wanted to tell her.
"Afterward," he said with a bitter laugh, "that's when I started the long, slow descent into hell. I guess you could say her death was the birth of the Republic."
He opened his eyes and looked down, startled by the picture they made: one hand was in her hair, his arms were wrapped securely around her, and their legs were stretched out together. It wasn't that he'd never pictured getting close to her. Hell, he'd imagined fucking her twelve ways to Sunday. The reason it had irked him so much when she'd fucked Connor was that he suspected she'd done it because she'd known he wanted her. It was her twisted way of letting him know he'd never have her, that even another Monroe was a better choice than him.
But this...he'd never pictured this, never imagined he'd come to care for her. He could tell himself it was because of Miles or Connor, because they'd cared for her, and taking care of her was his way of honoring their memory. But he knew better. She'd probably give him hell for daring to touch her in the morning, but he was willing to accept the consequences. Just holding her seemed to loosen that cold, hard knot inside a little.
"Charlotte, I know you think I'm a monster. I'm not saying that I'm not. But I'm also a man who had to choose too many times between bad and worse, us or them. After a while, it takes a toll." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "And when there are people in your life you would do anything for, sometimes you find yourself doing things you never thought you'd do just to make sure they keep breathing." He glanced down at her then, and remembered her nightmare - killing her first love to save her own life. So he added, "Or to make sure that you do."
When she didn't reply, he thought she must have fallen asleep, so he shifted her away until she was lying on the bed instead of him. When he rose to return to the sofa, she reached out and and caught his wrist. He looked back and saw she was watching him warily.
After a moment, her eyes flicked away toward the wall. But then, in a voice that was barely audible, she said, "Stay."
The way his heart stuttered in his chest at such a simple request made him feel like an idiot. Still, he had to ask, "Why?"
She looked at him then with a wan smile. "Sometimes it takes a monster to keep the rest of the monsters away."
He couldn't argue with that. He stretched out on top of the bedspread, hands clasped behind his head, and kept the monsters at bay until her breathing evened out. It wasn't long after she fell asleep that he found comfort in sleep without nightmares, too.
