A/N: Possible trigger warning. Skip the part between the x's to avoid some edgy lemons!

Monroe looked up, meeting Miles' eyes evenly. He took a step away from Charlie but kept one arm looped impudently around her waist. Miles might be Charlie's uncle, but Monroe was her lover, and he was Miles' peer and best friend. He wasn't going to act like a scared teenager picking a girl up for a date from a shotgun-toting father.

"So it's true." Miles stated flatly. At their confused silence, he continued, "Rider got in from New Vegas last week. I asked him if he'd seen either of you in town, and he said he had. Practically ripping each other's clothes off in a bar. I knew he wouldn't mistake you, Bass, but I'd hoped he'd confused some random whore for Charlie." He paused meaningfully. "I see I was wrong."

"Miles, it wasn't like that," Monroe explained. "We were drunk."

Miles' face was inscrutable as he gestured toward them, saying sarcastically, "Are you drunk now?"

"No, I mean, I didn't mean to disrespect her by being so… public. For that I'm sorry."

"And what about this? Showing up after a month on the road, mauling my niece in my yard in broad daylight? Are you sorry for that, too?"

Charlie broke in, "He doesn't have to be-"

Monroe squeezed her lightly. "Hold on," he murmured to her. To Miles, he said, "No. I'm not." He battled with himself, debating how much more to say, whether any attempt to explain would just make things worse. He wasn't sure Miles was ready to hear how intense his feelings for Charlie were, how serious he considered things between them. And, truthfully, he wasn't sure he was ready to say it. So, instead, he just said, "I didn't do anything she didn't want me to do."

Wrong answer. Miles raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, his mouth dropping slightly open in disbelief. "You didn't do anything she didn't… you know what, I can't do this right now. I'm sick of looking at you two. Just…" he stopped and shook his head, then turned on his heel and walked away. Monroe and Charlie stood twined around each other, watching him go.

When Miles was safely out of hearing, Charlie pushed Monroe away from her, glaring at him furiously. "What was that?" she demanded. "The best you can say about us is that you didn't do anything I didn't want? What the hell, Bass?"

Monroe immediately felt defensive, pissed at Miles, pissed at himself. He'd been totally caught off guard by Miles finding them. Not a feeling he enjoyed.

"Charlie, wait," he started, but she interrupted.

"No! I've waited for two weeks. Two weeks of you ignoring me, then fucking me, then ignoring me again. And then I have to stand here and listen while you basically tell Miles that I've been begging you for it?"

"What would you have rather I said, Charlie?" he asked. "That you're all I think about? That when I'm away from you, I want to be with you, and when I'm with you, I want to be inside you? That's what you want me to say to Uncle Miles?"

Disgustedly, she asked, "So, what, I'm just your fuck toy?"

"No," Monroe replied seriously. "That's not what I'm saying." He realized he could no longer avoid admitting what he thought should have been obvious. "I'm saying I've fought it, fought like hell, and I've lost. I've fallen for you, Charlotte."

A pause. And then, a smile played on the corners of her lips as she stepped back into his arms. "You've fallen for me?"

"Yeah," he said, trying to read her reaction. It was painful feeling so vulnerable, and he'd been feeling that way more and more often these days.

"You kind of suck at showing it," she commented lightly, running her hands up under his shirt and over his abs, not meeting his eyes.

"You're surprised a man nicknamed the Scourge of Scranton has trouble showing his feelings?" Monroe said dryly. He hated the old nickname, but it had the intended effect. Charlie laughed a little.

Smiling fully now, looking up at him, she remarked, "Well, we'll just have to work on it." She looped her arms up under his, pulling him into her for a kiss.

Monroe felt himself relax. She'd said "we." She accepted him, what he'd told her, his feelings for her. Now if he could just get Miles to do the same.

Awhile later, after taking a detour to check on the men, Monroe made his way over to the house. He found Miles sitting at the kitchen table alone, nursing a glass of amber liquid.

"A little early in the day for that, don't you think?" he joked cautiously.

"I could have said the same to you," Miles retorted, not looking at Monroe, raising his glass for another sip.

Monroe stepped forward. "I did a terrible job explaining myself back there."

"Really? Seemed to me like you had it all figured out." Miles still wasn't looking at him.

"I really care about her, Miles. I need you to know that."

Miles didn't respond for a few long seconds, and then he set his glass down and finally met Monroe's eyes.

"Bass," Miles said slowly. "I watched you fuck your way up and down the Eastern seaboard for over a decade." He paused. "I saw the women whose hearts you broke... the ones you discarded like tissues. The ones you destroyed." Monroe winced but said nothing. There was nothing to say. Miles was right.

"You know I saw all this. So when that rider from New Vegas told me what he'd seen, I got to thinking. I realized that if you'd started something with Charlie-given your history, and given my ability to easily murder you-it must be serious." Miles paused for confirmation, and Monroe nodded, relieved that his best friend understood.

"In fact," Miles continued, keeping his eyes steadily on Monroe's face, "I'd say that for any of this to make sense… you'd have to be in love with her."

At that, Monroe sat heavily in the kitchen chair next to Miles, now staring at his friend in disbelief. His mind raced with panic. He loved Charlie. Oh shit.

Seeing Monroe's response, Miles smiled ruefully, shaking his head and pushing what remained of his drink toward Monroe. Automatically, Monroe grabbed it and downed it in one swallow. With his brain feeling like it was working at half speed, Monroe asked Miles, "So you're okay? With… me and Charlie?"

Miles looked slightly nauseated. "If you love her, and you better be damn sure, then yeah. I guess I'm okay." The words seemed to taste bad in his mouth as he fumbled them out.

"Thank you." Monroe said. "Seriously."

Miles nodded. "Just. Please. Try to keep it behind closed doors, okay? At least until I've had some time to get used to it."

Monroe laughed devilishly. "I'll do my best, though I can't make any promises for her." Miles' head snapped up, his brows knit in a warning glare. Monroe decided that was his cue and quickly turned, off to find Charlie.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later that night, Monroe lay with Charlie in his bed in the farmhouse. They were both naked, and after almost a month's worth of nights spent on hard bedrolls on the ground, the soft mattress and cotton sheets felt wonderful. Charlie's soft, warm body curled up next to him made it feel, to Monroe, more like heaven.

"Did you ever think we'd be here?" Charlie said dreamily, apparently feeling the same way as she ran her fingers idly over his chest.

Monroe closed his eyes briefly. No, he hadn't thought a man like him would be given a chance with a treasure like her. No, he hadn't dared to allow himself to think about it, to hope, until his feelings burned away the last of his resistance and he couldn't stop it anymore. But he didn't say any of this to Charlie. Instead, he said arrogantly, "I figured you couldn't stay away from me forever."

Charlie raised her head up with a pout and punched him in mock indignation, and he grabbed her wrist in response. She struggled playfully for a second, then collapsed down into his embrace again, with Monroe still holding onto her. Carefully, he turned her arm so that he could clearly see the M branded into her skin. It had happened in what felt like another lifetime. He'd been General Monroe; she'd been conscripted into his militia, branded as one of his soldiers against her will. He hadn't been there, but he was responsible all the same.

"I hate that they hurt you," he said with regret, placing her arm gently down on his chest again.

He felt Charlie shrug. "It only hurt for a little while. After that, I kind of liked having it."

"Why?" Monroe asked.

"I don't know. Maybe because it meant… I belonged to you. Or something. Even though thousands of people have it, so that doesn't really make sense, but… it just seemed kind of sexy. To think of it that way." Charlie sounded extremely embarrassed by her confession.

Monroe was struggling to keep his tone even. "And why would that be sexy. To belong to me." His dick was growing hard at the thought of a much younger Charlie, thinking about him like that.

She continued, "Sometimes I would think about you finding me. Seeing the brand. And then you would just… do whatever you wanted with me. Claim me. No matter what I said or what I wanted. You'd just… take me," she finished in a whisper.

"How. Tell me what I'd do." He was fully erect now, his heart pounding with desire for her, but he wanted to hear this out.

"I'd fantasize that you would tie me up. Or just hold me down. You were so much stronger than me. You'd hold my arms above my head and pin me down so I couldn't move. And then you would just fuck me. Mercilessly. I'd beg you to stop… I'd tell you… no. But you wouldn't stop, you would just… fuck me with your powerful cock and I would come all over you even though I didn't want to… but really I did…" Charlie's words were running together as she got more turned on, her lids growing heavy and her vision unfocused.

"You wanted me to force you?" Monroe asked gruffly. "Back when you were so young and innocent? You wanted me to come find you? Fuck you?"

"Uhh yes…" Charlie squirmed against him. "Ever since I met you I thought you were so hot. I didn't know how to make it happen but I just wanted you. Wanted you to fuck me with your hard cock."

At that, Monroe growled and flipped Charlie roughly onto her back. He grabbed her wrists and just like she'd described, pinned them above her head, holding both her arms in one of his hands, squeezing them tightly together as he pushed her down into the mattress. Charlie's eyes were wide, her lips parted in an aroused "o." He pushed her legs apart with his, and she offered no resistance. Charlie was below him, spread open, staring up at him heatedly. Kissing her hard, he plunged his cock into her soaked pussy, burying himself to the hilt.

"Is this what you wanted?" he demanded as he thrust into her. "You wanted me to fuck you like this?"

"No, please," Charlie said breathlessly, getting into her role as the young, innocent version of herself. "It hurts. Please, it's too much. Don't fuck me like this. Please, sir…this is wrong…" Her soft protests were belied by her hips working hard against his, her moans of pleasure.

"I'll fuck you however I want," Monroe shot back, pushing into her all the harder, bruising them both. "You belong to me. Your pussy belongs to me."

Charlie bit down hard on her lower lip, closing her eyes as Monroe pounded her into the mattress, still holding her immobile beneath him. "Stop," she gasped. "Ugh, it feels so good… please. Please stop, I can't do this. I can't let you do this." Monroe could hear her voice straining, felt her legs flexing around him. Suddenly, her body bucked as she came hard underneath him. "Please," she cried out as she came. "Please, I'm… I'm a virgin…"

At those words, Monroe roared aloud and his orgasm ripped through him. Cum burst out of his cock and deep inside Charlie. He slammed himself into her until he was completely empty, then finally released her arms, rolling to one side and staring up at the ceiling.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed, breathing hard. "Fuck." He looked over at Charlie, who was on her side, arms still raised above her head, smiling drowsily. Monroe closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he came back down to earth, his head still buzzing slightly with the intensity of what they'd just done. Rolling to his side to face Charlie, who now had her eyes closed, he said softly, teasingly, "You are a bad girl, you know that?"

Opening her eyes, Charlie met his and smiled, saying, "Yeah, well, like you said. We're two of a kind."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The campaign against the Patriots took off with the aid of Duncan's men. They conducted successful raids against Patriot supply caches that were guarded by few men, building their own armory and learning to work together as a group. Monroe and Miles both participated in every mission, and the men came to respect them both as leaders. Slowly, they began making plans for larger targets, more critical hits, and big-picture strategic maneuvers.

Charlie concentrated most on the latter, since she'd been forbidden by Monroe and Miles to participate in actual combat. It was incredibly frustrating. Before they'd left for New Vegas, she'd been right by their sides, mixing it up in small skirmishes with the Patriots. Miles hadn't loved it, but she'd ignored him and come along anyway. Now, with Monroe openly acknowledging his feelings for her and his desire to keep her safe, Miles was all-too-happy to back him up. The first and only time she'd grabbed a gun and started to march out with the men, Monroe had halted the entire mission until she agreed to stay behind. It didn't take long with twenty-two men staring at her for her to acquiesce.

Still, while they were at the house, Monroe and Miles continued to include her in strategic discussions, clearly respecting her opinion and input. And her relationship with Monroe deepened as they continued to spend every night together in what was now basically "their" room. Gradually, they'd become more public about being together, at first openly referring to their relationship and then exchanging occasional kisses or embraces where others could see. Miles didn't react, seeming to ignore the whole situation.

A week later, Charlie, Monroe and Miles sat at the table for their nightly dinner and strategy session. Miles was feeling disconcerted about contradictory signals they were getting about the Patriots' intentions for the area.

"The last few supply caches we've raided have been half-full, if that," Miles explained. "Like they haven't resupplied in days or even a week or more."

Monroe shook his head, "I keep seeing unfamiliar faces around town, though," he protested. "They've got to be sending reinforcements. Or recruiting from the area. Either way, it doesn't look like they're going anywhere."

"I agree with what you're saying. And they just moved their operations into the old Methodist church, a bigger facility-why do that unless they're planning to expand?"

Charlie cut in, "Maybe we're just looking in the wrong supply caches? We need to get fresh intel on where they are, how to get at them."

Monroe nodded, and Miles added, "We need to get long-term information. High-level. What their plans are, whether they're going to stay, things like that."

"Yeah, how?" Monroe said, frustrated. "These low-level fucks we keep interrogating don't know squat. They've got information locked up tight."

"We have to get to the officers," Charlie said. "Specifically, I do. I can finally make myself useful for once."

"What are you talking about?" Monroe said dangerously. "You're not getting anywhere near these bastards."

"Oh, no? And you are?" Charlie challenged. "Just waltz up to them, 'hey I'm General Monroe, wondering what y'all are up to these days?'"

Monroe glowered silently, and Miles stepped in. "Charlie, what are you saying?"

"I heard from some women in town that the Patriots are having some sort of social event at the church tomorrow. Sort of an 'open the new headquarters/welcome the new guys' thing. All the locals have been invited-especially the women," she explained.

Monroe was already shaking his head, but Miles was nodding. "Get in there, see if anyone will talk to you big picture," he mused.

"Right, just a, 'oh I don't know if we should be talking, how much longer are you even going to be here,' type thing," Charlie agreed.

"What!" Monroe finally exploded. "Are you both out of your fucking minds? Charlotte, you are absolutely not going to be bait for these Patriot assholes to hit on you and give you information. No."

"Why not?" she shot back. "I'm tired of not doing anything. I would just be talking to them."

"I don't even want you talking to them! I don't want you anywhere near them."

Charlie was furious. She was sick of being treated like a child, sick of hearing everything secondhand, sick of being kept out of the fight. She knew Monroe wanted to keep her safe, but it was too much. She had to get him to back down.

"Are you really that insecure?" Charlie said witheringly. "You think a five-minute conversation with a Patriot officer will send me running to his bed instead of yours?"

Monroe's eyes were almost black with rage, and he shoved back from the table and stalked out of the room, punching the doorframe hard as he went. Charlie and Miles heard the front door slam as he left the house.

"Wow," said Miles after a few seconds. "Way to hit him where it hurts."

Charlie's face was still twisted in frustration, "I don't want to hurt him, I just want to do this. He's being unreasonable."

Miles shrugged. "He cares about you. We both do."

"I know, but he can't keep me shut up in this house forever. I can be an asset to us. You know I'm right."

Glancing up at the door where Monroe had left, Miles agreed, "Your plan makes sense. It's relatively low-risk. And the officers might be careless in a social setting."

"Okay," Charlie said. "So it's decided. I'll do it. Tomorrow night."

"I'll tell Bass," Miles said. "He'll never accept it from you."

Charlie rested her chin in her hand, toying with her fork with the other. After a few seconds, she asked, "Am I crazy, Miles? Like, am I just not seeing clearly here?"

"About what?" Miles asked carefully.

"About him. Us. I don't know." She shook her head. "You know him better than anyone." It was awkward talking to her uncle about her feelings for his best friend, but Miles was the only person she trusted these days, besides Monroe himself. Charlie wanted to give him a chance to give her a dose of reality, if that's what she needed, before things went any further.

Miles could not have looked more uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter what I think, kid. What do you think? Does it feel right to you?"

Charlie stared into space. "It does feel right. That's what's scary. I love him." It was a relief to finally tell someone. She knew it probably should have been Monroe himself, but it still seemed too new. But Charlie was as sure of this as she was of anything: she loved Bass. She had for a long time.

Miles closed his eyes briefly, looking pained, and repeated, "You love him."

She nodded. "A lot. Like, crazy love him." Glancing up, she saw Miles' expression. "Sorry. You're the only person I've talked to about this."

"Obviously," Miles said dryly. "Look, Charlie, I can't tell you what to do. But Bass cares about you, too. If he didn't, you must know I'd have killed him by now." Charlie laughed. Sometimes having an overprotective uncle wasn't all bad.

Straightening and pushing back from the table, Charlie said, "Alright, I'm going to find him. Thanks, Miles. And be thinking about a plan for tomorrow night."

He favored her with a mock-salute. "You got it."

Rolling her eyes, Charlie ducked out of the kitchen and was quickly out the front door and into the cool night. She thought she would find Monroe in the barn with the militia, distracting himself with business, or maybe he'd made it further, grabbed a horse and headed to town, to the bar.

Charlie wheeled around the back side of the house toward the barn and stables, then stopped short when she saw Monroe's silhouette, just feet away.

He was leaning with his fists against the side of the house, his forehead lowered to one of them. His posture was all tension and frustration. As he heard Charlie approach, he jerked upright and stalked toward her, his face masked by the darkness. Before she could make a sound, he grabbed her face in both of his hands, cradling her jaw, and lowered his mouth to hers for an intense kiss. Charlie thought she felt moisture on his cheeks.

When they broke apart, Monroe kept his face close to hers. "I love you, Charlotte," he said with conviction. "I cannot let anything hurt you."

Charlie felt light with joy. She'd come after him determined to tell him the same thing. "Bass, I love you, too," she said. "You're… everything."

He tightened his grip around her, resting his cheek on her hair, letting out a long breath. "Then don't do this. We'll think of another plan."

Charlie shook her head, and Monroe continued, "I'm serious. I lost someone I loved a long time ago, and it nearly destroyed me. I can't do it again."

At the needy edge in his voice, her resolve almost crumbled, but Charlie stood firm, "I can't just sit at home while you're putting yourself at risk out there. Not when there's something only I can do, a way I can help. Bass, I love you, but I have to do what's right."

Monroe lowered his mouth to whisper in her ear, "It's so incredible. Hearing you say those words." He kissed her earlobe, then her neck, the subject of her mission against the Patriots apparently closed, unresolved for the time being.

"What?" she said. "That I have to do what's right?"

"No." He ran his hands lightly up under her shirt, over the skin of her back, making her shiver, as he continued kissing her neck.

"That I can't just sit at home anymore?"

"Charlotte." A warning, half-joking.

She pushed him away slightly, meeting his eyes in the dim moonlight. "That I love you, Sebastian Monroe." It felt so good to say it. The more she said it, the more she felt it, and she thought she would devour him with emotion. He looked so godly, looking down at her, his mouth drawn in seriousness. She tried the words out again. "I. Love. You."

"Charlotte," Monroe whispered again, this time reverently, like a prayer. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her lightly, once, twice. Just as she moved to respond more ardently, he said, "Let's get inside." They made their way back into the house, catching a brief glimpse of Miles sitting in front of the fireplace, rifling through notes on their prior missions. He said nothing as they passed and made their way up the stairs to their room.