I apologize; Chapters 14 and 15 were suppose to be uploaded within a day of each other. Life seems to have a habit of getting in the way. :/ Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 15

The doors to the mansion flew open and in strided Joan. Monroe stared in shock. She was covered in blood; there were cuts on her arms and face. In one hand her sword dripped blood and in the other a handgun. She shot three of the soldiers, empting what was left in her clip. She then spun and sliced at the two remaining with her sword. Moving lightning fast she dispatched them quickly. Movement on the second floor caught Monroe's eye.

"Joan look out!" He yelled as the man aimed his rifle down at her. She dived in the corner where his bullets could not reach her. The soldier fired a few shots at Monroe causing him to duck back behind the bookcase. Unable to get to either of them from the second floor, he descended the stairs. Monroe watched as Joan pulled out a small one shot derringer. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before leaping from the corner, catching the man by surprise while he was still on the steps. One bullet through the heart and he dropped like a sack of potatoes at the base of the stairs. Joan was breathing hard and when she looked his way searching for him with her eyes, he saw the wild crazy look in them. He stepped out in the open and watched as relief swept over her face. Suddenly a she let out a laugh and a brilliant smile graced her lips as she looked at him.

"A part of me didn't think you would be here but I guess you're to stubborn to die." She said and with a glance around she knelt by one of the fallen guards, picking up his handgun. She went through the pockets of the dead men. Monroe was extremely happy to see her and that smile she had given him had been pure joy at seeing him. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his own lips. Joan glanced at him and seeing it her own became a grin. "What?" She asked.

"Nothing I just didn't think you would actually come here for me." He said with a laugh.

"Come on grab some weapons, there is still a battle going on out there." She said with a chuckle. Monroe looked towards the closed doors before moving towards one of the dead men on the floor. Joan's smirk fell as she screamed, "Bass!" Monroe had been so captivated by her that he had dropped his guard. Now a figure barreled into him and a strong arm slid around his neck. Joan rolled out of the way as bullets peppered the floor where she had been. Monroe struggled against the man holding him but to no avail. The man was taller and heavier than him. A voice in his ear made his blood run cold.

"Stop struggling General or I will have my men kill her." Sneered Gordon Sinclair. His men stopped firing as his voice rang out loud and clear above the guns. "Come out Joan! Unless you want the general to die!" There was a pause before she answered.

"Go ahead he means nothing to me!" Monroe knew she was lying but to hear her say it hit him harder than he would have liked to admit. He felt Sinclair shake with laughter against him.

"You came all this way, did all this!" He said gesturing to the dead guards. "But you don't care? I don't think so Joan. Now come out or I cut through an artery!" The arm around his neck was promptly replaced with a knife, a very sharp knife. "What's it going to be Joan?!" When she didn't respond, a part of Monroe began to think that maybe he had been wrong and she really didn't care. He knew Sinclair was thinking the same thing as he shifted nervously. "No? Fine then." Monroe felt the knife tighten and blood trickled down his neck. He swallowed hard; was this really how it was going to end? He thought. Joan stepped out in the open. "There you are!" Exclaimed Sinclair. He sounded like a mad scientist. Monroe wondered what it was that Joan had done to make him this obsessed.

"Let him go Sinclair. I'm the one you want, not him." Joan said solemnly, the handgun still in her right hand. Monroe noticed her finger on the trigger.

"You're right you are the one I want! But I also want to hurt you the way you hurt me!" The knife dug in deeper as he yelled at her. Joan winced at that.

"I didn't have a choice it was her or me." Joan said looking towards the two guards at the door. To the untrained eye it looked like she was dismissing the subject but Monroe saw the sorrow in her eyes as she glanced away. Sinclair seemed to have missed the sorrow though.

"She was everything to me! I loved her! And you killed her like she was nothing but a dog."

"People die in battle Sinclair, she was no different!"

"No different?! You killed two people that day! You killed my wife and my child!" Sinclair began to shake with rage. The look on Joan's face though was pure shock.

"I didn't know."

"Like it would have changed anything if you had." He said bitterly.

"Believe me I never would have hurt a child and I didn't want to hurt her but she came at me with a knife. I'm sorry for your loss but I had to shoot her." There was almost a plea in her voice. She really had not known and was hating herself for it now.

"Oh you're not sorry yet, but you will be." That sent Joan into action. She shot the two guards before they could move then trained the gun on Sinclair and Monroe but hesitated. She stood frozen, a muscle in her jaw twitched as she seemed to be at war with herself.

"Haha!" He cackled in Monroe's ear. "What's the matter? Can't take the shot?!" Joan swallowed hard, her hand tensing and relaxing on the gun. "Go ahead! Take the shot! You remember what happened last time?" He taunted. Joan did remember what happened last time, a little too well. It had been a few years ago almost this exact same situation just with different people. She had taken the shot and had killed both the target and the friendly. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it of the flashback and focus on the present. She knew she couldn't do it, not with Monroe. She wouldn't take that chance, couldn't risk it. Movement at the base of the stairs caught her eye. She turned her head slightly to see a live grenade roll out of the hand of man whom she had shot with the derringer.

Monroe's heart stopped as the grenade went off. He and Sinclair had both scrambled behind cover. He looked up now, his eyes searching for any sign of Joan. The staircase no longer existed and part of the parlor wall was gone as well as some of the second floor. Now it was just a pile of broken boards. A cough to his right caused him to turn and see Sinclair picking himself up off the ground. Monroe saw the knife Joan had given him before and grabbing it, he walked to Sinclair. Rage burned hot inside of him as he slammed him against the wall, driving the knife deep into his stomach.

"No one messes with me and you sure as hell don't mess with her." He snarled in Sinclair's ear as the man slumped to the ground. Monroe heard a cry of pain come from the debris. "Joan!" He called as he began to search. He saw a bloody hand sticking out from under some boards. He uncovered her and had to stifle a gasp. She was covered in cuts from shrapmetal, a long one on her arm had turned her hand red, blood dripped off her fingers. The cuts were not what worried him though. She had a huge gash on her head that was bleeding profusely. He swallowed hard. That looked pretty bad. He needed to stop the bleeding but with what? There was nothing around. His eyes landed on the strip of cloth tied around his forearm. The ugly scars came into view once the cloth was gone. As he pressed the small strip to the wound on her head, she half-awoke and began to struggle. "Joan, Joan stop its me." She continued to struggle, making it impossible for him to keep pressure on the wound. With a sigh he moved so he was behind her and she lay against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He had better control over her now and had put pressure back on the wound. The small cloth was soon soaked through with her blood. A sickening feeling came over him as he saw her blood on his hand. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she struggled against the arms that held her. "It's ok Joan. You're alright I got you." He said into her ear, trying to calm her. She stopped struggling at his voice.

"Bass?" She asked her voice cracking with pain. He found it odd that she had used his nick name today of all days.

"Shh I'm here." He said soothingly, brushing some of her hair away from her face with his hand.

"Bass I….." Her head slumped against his shoulder again. He moved his hand to her neck and searched for a pulse, not daring to breath. There! It was slight but it was a pulse and that meant she was still alive. But for how long?

"Joan!" It was Max and Nahla's voices combined as they stormed into the crumpled room.

"Over here." Monroe called to them. They both gasped as they saw her limp in his arms.

"Is…is she…" Nahla stuttered; she couldn't even say anything else, just stare with wide eyes.

"Not yet but she will be soon if she doesn't get help." Both seemed to breathe a little easier. They picked their way to them and Nahla knelt next to him while Max remained standing. Her eyes roamed over her friend's body checking for anymore serious damage before moving his hand carefully away from the gash on her head. She swallowed hard and her face tightened as blood ran freely from the wound. Max hissed through his teeth and ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Can she be moved?" He asked Nahla. She nodded. Max turned and snapped at a man standing behind him to get a wagon.

"Wait." She pulled out a clean bandana and pressed it to Joan's head. "Now." She stepped back as Max picked her up. She muttered something incomprehensive as he carried her outside to the waiting wagon. Nahla offered Monroe a hand up and pulled out another bandana. She wrapped it around the scars on his arm, replacing the strip of cloth that was now soaked in blood. "Thank you." She whispered before turning to follow Max. By the time Monroe made it out of the mansion, Joan was in a wagon with Nahla beside her. Max was throwing orders out to the men and women around him. Monroe looked around the courtyard and saw the carnage of the battle for the first time. The sand was red with blood and the cries of the wounded were being silenced with swords. Soldiers were covered in blood and guts; they wore unfeeling masks of indifference as they walked among the dead and dying. These were not the peaceful looking people from the village, these were battle harden soldiers. Someone brushed against his shoulder on their way to Max. It was Lily. She no longer had a bow but two sheathed swords and a rifle slung over her shoulder. She didn't look like the young girl who had convinced Nahla to take him to Joan only days before. When she glanced at Monroe as she waited to report to Max, he saw an emptiness in her eyes. He noted the bruises and cuts on her face and arms. She was no longer a child, but a soldier. It was her turn to give her report.

"A group of about 10 got away to the north. I can take a group and go after them." She spoke strong and brave to her commander but her eyes strayed to Joan's still body in the wagon.

"No we got what we came for, let them run." Max answered following her eyes. "She'll be fine. We will leave as soon as the horses and cattle are rounded up." Lily nodded. Max turned to Nahla. "I want you to go ahead and head back with Joan, I'll stay and clean up." Nahla nodded.

"Monroe you ride with us." Called Nahla. Max glared but didn't say anything. Monroe jumped into the wagon just as it jerked forward. Before they got to the gate, Lily got a running jump and landed beside him in the wagon. Nahla raised an eyebrow at her but Lily only shrugged.

"Max thought you might need the protection." She looked pointedly at Monroe. Nahla only rolled her eyes and went back to tending Joan as the wagon rolled out of the compound.

After hours of riding in silence, all of them lost in their own thoughts, Lily smirked at him.

"So how many did you kill Monroe?" He cut his eyes at her; he was tired and didn't feel like playing games. He knew she didn't mean the question. He had been watching her, her eyes troubled as she tried to understand the events at the compound. She was probably trying to think of when she became the monster she had become during the heat of battle. Now she was confused and trying to act tough. Or just trying to get under his skin, he wasn't sure.

"Killing people is not a game Lily." He chided her. Anger flashed in her eyes at being chided like a kid.

"Coming from the general of the Monroe militia himself," She retorted hotly.

"Former." He replied quietly. She made a face at him.

"Whatever. Doesn't excuse the things you did." Nahla made a noise behind them.

"If you two want to argue get off!" She said glaring at them. Lily snorted and jumped off, grabbing Monroe's arm at the last second and pulling him off with her. He barely kept himself from falling on his face. He sighed irritably as he got up slowly, glancing at the wagon continuing to ramble on without them.

"What was that for?!" He said glaring at her.

"I needed to talk to you." She replied with a shrug and a smirk.

"You couldn't have done that in the wagon?!"

"Not in front of Nahla." Now Monroe was curious.

"Alright. What do you want to talk about?" He asked turning to look at her. She looked away, back towards the compound.

"How do you deal with all the death?" She asked her voice sounded strained. Monroe narrowed his eyes at her. She looked at him suddenly. "You're probably wondering why I'm asking you. I'm not really sure exactly why except that I can't ask Joan. Joan always knows what to say, always has the right answer; but she's not available to ask right now and you are." She seemed to stop herself and took a deep breath before continuing. "She trusted you and that's good enough for me." Monroe was shocked. He had not expected that and now Lily was looking at him, waiting for his answer. He tried to think of something smart but nothing came to mind so he decided on the truth.

"You don't. The truth is you never really get over it. I still see the faces of people I killed years ago every time I close my eyes. The trick is accepting what you did and who you are. Some say forgiving yourself helps too."

"Is that what you've done? Forgiven yourself?"

"No I haven't forgiven nor will I ever forgive myself for some of the things I have done." Monroe said shaking his head and looking away.

"Thank you. For being honest. That's what Joan would have done. Everyone else lies and tells me everything will be ok. I'm not a child anymore; I know the world I live in is harsh and cruel and that you have to become that if you want to survive." Monroe searched the eyes of the young girl, wise beyond her years, in front of him. Some of the emptiness had been replaced by strength and the courage to continue on. He could tell Joan had spent a lot of time grooming this girl to be a leader and he saw the potential in her. "I hope you find what you're looking for." She said quietly as they heard the sound of pounding hooves. A single rider came into view and as the jet black horse slid to a stop next to them, Monroe looked up into the face of Max. Monroe glanced at Lily but the girl would not meet his eyes. He got a very bad feeling that this was a set up. Max dismounted and looked at Lily.

"You ok?" He asked as if he was afraid Monroe had hurt her. Lily nodded. Max grabbed a pack from the horse and turned back to Monroe with a hard look.

"Willoughby." He said and shoved the pack against Monroe's chest.

"What?" Monroe asked confused not only by what he had said but by his actions and manner as well.

"That's where Miles is. There is a weeks worth of rations in there. Go southeast and you will hit the main road. Follow that to your boyfriend." Monroe turned and looked back to where the wagon was with Joan. He needed to at least say goodbye. Suddenly Max grabbed him by the shirt and threw him hard into a tree, pinning him there. Lily swallowed hard as the two glared at each other. "Don't you dare look back that way! You've done enough to her. You're going to walk away and your never going to come back." Monroe gritted his teeth; he really didn't like this guy. He pushed Max off of him.

"The hell I am!" He snarled at Max. Before Max could lunge at him, Lily was between them.

"I should have killed you years ago! You're like poison to her! You always have been!" Max growled at him.

"You don't know anything about me or her!"

"Stop it! Both of you!" Lily yelled then continued in a softer tone. "Monroe, Max isn't wrong. I may not have known her before when you two were together but I have heard the stories. I have watched you two since you got here and your both poison for each other. Your judgment gets clouded when you're together." She said it calmly, but she was breathing hard as if she had yelled it. "It's the best thing for both of you." She added quietly looking him in the eyes. The fact that she looked like she really believed it was what surprised him. He swallowed hard and looked again in the direction of the wagon. He wanted to see her again but he knew he would have to kill Max to do so. No, the best thing to do was to walk away. He nodded to Lily and picking up the pack of supplies, walked in the direction of the main road. After Monroe had disappeared from view, Max mounted again and offered Lily a hand up. "Are you sure we did the right thing?" She asked him taking his arm and swinging up behind him.

"Of course. The more distance between them the better." He answered with an edge to his tone as he kicked the horse into a gallop to catch up with the wagon.

Ok so I want to continue this fic in spite of Revo being cancelled. I still love Revolution and the characters in it, plus I still have some good plot ideas.