The next morning, Gene announced that Danny and Angie were well on the mend and most likely no longer contagious. Danny's rash was mostly gone with Angie recovering a little slower. It would still be a few more days before they were sure Charlie was in the clear, but she didn't have to avoid them any longer. Monroe woke up well after everyone else. When he emerged from the nursery, Charlie informed him of the good news. He was relieved that the kids were over the worst of it – that went without saying, but a part of him was also a little said. He no longer had an excuse to stay in the house.

Feeling a little low (and guilty because of it), he headed out to the stable to get changed before heading back to work. When he entered the structure, Daniel was already in there tending the horses. "Gonna keep sleepin' in, I'm gonna have to replace you," he quipped as Monroe walked to the back of the building to the stall that housed his lonely "bedroom".

"Whatever, old man," Monroe grumbled as he walked by. He looked around. The cot was still there, but his things were gone. "What the hell?"

Daniel suddenly appeared behind him. "We can do without you for a day or two. Go spend some time with your family, you idiot." His voice was filled with humor. "You look like you could use some more sleep, at any rate."

Monroe went back into the house to find Charlie dozing off with the twins beside her in the bed. She roused when he entered the room. "Someone stole my stuff," he said wryly as he kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed.

"Bunch of savage little thieves around here," she said with a sleepy smile.

He chuckled softly, "I'll bet."

That night when he came into the bedroom, he was a bundle of nerves. That she'd put his clothes back in the bedroom suggested he was welcome, but he still wasn't entirely sure of himself. She stepped behind him to close the door and took off the old ratty robe she normally wore in the morning. He wasn't sure where she got the garment she wore beneath it, but he swore to god it was invented to torture men everywhere.

She was leaning against the door, watching him. "Charlie, I-"

She reached for him then. "Shut up," she whispered as she grabbed him by the waistband of his jeans and pulled him to her. She stood on her toes so she could press her lips to his. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her and took over from there. Not wasting any time, he delved his tongue into her mouth, taking them both deeper into the kiss.

Her back was pressed into the door behind her. Charlie wrapped her leg around his waist, not able to get herself close enough. He ran a hand under her thigh and lifted her further, letting out a satisfied growl when he realized she was wearing nothing underneath the short negligee. He broke away from her and stared into her eyes just a second for an explanation, permission, something. The desire in her eyes was answer enough. He captured her mouth again, kissing her like she was an oasis and he'd just spent an eternity wandering the desert looking for her. He slid his lips down, trailing hot kissed down her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, her breath already becoming heavy in her chest.

Monroe ran his hand along the hem of her flimsy excuse for a nightgown, inching it up slowly to reveal her body. Suddenly, a knock came at the door. "Yeah?" he barked, more than a little annoyed at the intrusion.

"Uh, Charlie?" Aaron's voice drifted in from the other side of the door.

Monroe turned his attention back to the hem of her nightgown. "Wait," she panted into his neck. Her hand flew to his and she tried to still it.

"Just ignore him. Maybe he'll just go away," Monroe whined as his mouth hovered at the swell of her breasts. He began to kiss her there along the lace just as Aaron knocked again. "Dammit," he moaned. He'd been waiting for her all this time and here was Aaron doing his best to ruin everything. "Go away, we don't want any," he snapped.

Aaron's voice drifted through the wood. "Yeah, you guys really need to come out here."

Monroe stilled. He reluctantly released his grip on her butt and Charlie lowered her foot to the floor. One hand braced against the door, he silently tried to convince the lower part of his body to behave itself.

Charlie was fighting for her own composure. "What, Aaron?" she asked.

"Um yeah. We've got visitors." They could hear his feet retreating.

Monroe flopped down on the bed and swiped a hand over his face in frustration. "I thing I'm back to hating him," he complained.

Charlie walked across the room to pick up the robe from where she'd tossed it. She hadn't even had time to put it on when they heard a slight commotion outside their door. "I wouldn't go in there yet –" Aaron pleaded. Suddenly the door opened and Miles appeared with Rachel right behind him.

"Fuck," Monroe said as he lifted himself up on his elbows. "Miles, Rachel," he added in greeting before laying back down and covering his eyes with an arm, casually. Maybe if I just close my eyes, they'll go away for an hour, he thought to himself.

Miles took in the sight in front of him. Charlie was standing there holding a robe and wearing something he'd rather not see her in. Her face was flush, but it could have been just from embarrassment. Oh, please let it just be from embarrassment, he inwardly groaned. Lying on the bed with his legs dangling over the side, looking very frustrated was his former best friend turned dictator turned quasi-best friend with a rapidly deflating erection. "You son of a bitch," Miles ground out as he took a step forward, fully intent of rearranging Monroe's face and damaging important body parts. Before he could reach his target a loud wail from the next room stopped him in his tracks.

He watched in utter confusion as Monroe held up a fist, still refusing to uncover his eyes. Charlie did the same. "One, two, three," Monroe said as he shook his fist up and down before throwing out his hand flat. Miles raised an eyebrow at them as he watched Monroe deftly lose two rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors in a row. He swore it looked like the man was losing on purpose. Monroe gracefully jumped up and left the room, making sure to shoulder- check Miles on the way out.

"Charlie, how could you? With him of all people?" The disgust in her mother's voice was evident. "I get it he's been helping you play house and all but sleeping with him?"

Miles leaned up against the wall, arms crossed in loosely concealed rage. "I'm really going to kill him," he said under his breath.

Another wail could be heard down the hall. "Oh for god's sake. I don't know why you'd ever trust him to take care of a baby in the first place." Before Charlie could stop her, Rachel stomped out of the room, determined to save her distraught grandchild from what she knew had to be Monroe's incompetence.

She found the right room and stopped dead in her tracks. There he was in the old rocking chair, holding not one but two babies. He rocked them gently, humming some random tune lowly. He looked up, meeting her eyes for a second before turning his attention back to his little charges. She approached him quietly. He gestured towards which one she should take from him. He had already changed Danny and had him almost back to sleep when Angie started to cry, so he'd simply picked her up to wait for Charlie. He stood up and quickly went to change her before settling back down on the chair.

Rachel went back and forth between looking at the child in her arms and watching the killer that had just changed a cloth diaper like a pro. She was beyond stunned and couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.

The little bundle in his arms was still squirming. "Come on Angie, I know you still don't feel good, but you're killing me here," Monroe said gently. He turned to look at the space between both cribs. "Brodie," he whispered loudly. Rachel watched as the Border collie came out of the shadows and stood in front of his master, raising a paw to put on his knee. "Go get Charlie."

Brodie trotted out the door and down the hall. The quiet yip indicated to Rachel that the dog had actually obeyed. She stood there holding her grandson, still dumbfounded as the dog came back into the room and circled the floor before picking a spot next to the rocking chair. Monroe carefully nudged his tail out of the way like he'd done it a thousand times before he resumed rocking the crabby baby.

Rachel barely had time to process the scene before her when Charlie came padding into the room. Not to be left out, Miles came in soon after. Monroe stood to and handled his bundle to Charlie, who settled into the chair. Charlie hesitated for just a second. Sensing her discomfort, Monroe held a blanket up in front of her until she had the baby situated on her breast before he gently laid the blanket over them so she could nurse without flashing her uncle.

Trying her best to distract Miles, Rachel handed Danny to him. "Isn't he beautiful?" She said as she smiled down at her grandchild. The rash from the measles had already faded from his face, leaving no evidence of the recent illness. Miles looked down at the baby, who had just woken up; as if he decided Angie getting fed just wasn't fair.

"Monkey see, monkey do," Monroe said with a chuckle.

Charlie groaned. "I wonder how long they're going to do this before they start sleeping through the night again." The way she said it caught Rachel's attention. "They're just getting over the measles," she added in explanation.

This was getting way to domestic for Miles and he felt himself starting to freak out again. "I'm still going to tear you apart, Bass," he said quietly.

Monroe just glared at him. "Show some respect, dick. At least put my kid down before you threaten me."

Rachel reached out to grab the baby before Miles dropped him. Monroe's words left him feeling like someone had just punched him in the gut. "Your – your kid?" Miles barely choked the words out.

"Well technically they're both mine. Kind of a package deal." Monroe ignored the look Charlie shot him. Clearly she thought he wasn't helping.

"Mom, Miles, meet Angela Grace and Daniel Ross… Monroe," she said quietly. She made sure she had both of their attentions before revealing the twins' surname.

Before anyone could react, Miles whipped out a gun and pointed it directly at Monroe. "Oh Bass, we need to have a little chat." He nodded towards the door. "Let's take a walk, brother." The way Miles emphasized that last word was more than a little menacing.

Monroe rolled his eyes. Sighing, he bent to kiss Charlie lightly a before leaving the room with Miles right behind him. As they walked through the living room to the front door, Gene and Daniel both looked a little startled to see Miles leading Monroe out of the house at gunpoint. He merely shrugged as he walked by them. Brodie had decided to come to, sensing trouble.

"For fuck's sake Miles, put that damn thing away," Monroe snapped as soon as they were outside. Miles holstered the weapon and immediately took a swing at him. Of course, Monroe had been expecting this and merely ducked to avoid the blow. Without warning, the dog got in between them and started to snarl and jump at Miles. "Down, Brodie," Monroe ordered the dog, but he seemed less than willing to obey.

Distracted, Monroe dodged too late and the next swing hit him squarely in the jaw. "Dammit Miles, will you calm down?" Monroe shouted. The dog again snarled and snapped. Monroe grabbed his rope collar before he could lunge at Miles. "Brodie! Down!" he yelled again.

Miles just stood there watching Monroe try to control Brodie. The animal it seemed had lost its mind. "Dude, what's with the dog?" Miles asked.

"Really? You too?" Monroe decided he'd really had it with people commenting on his having a dog. "If a man wants to have a fucking dog, why the hell does everyone have to question it? Your niece has a pet pig. Which, I might add is just weird, but everyone's just fine and dandy with it. I have a dog and everyone looks at me like I've grown two heads."

Miles gave him a weird look and nodded slowly. "Bass, you're babbling."

"I'm just saying. It's getting old."

"Well okay then," Miles said with a roll of his eyes. "And don't change the subject. You and Charlie? What the hell is the matter with you?"

Convinced that at least for the time being Mile was done, Monroe sat down on the bottom porch step. "It was after Austin when we all got separated. It was just that one time. She was a mess after Jason, and it just sort of happened."

"Wrong answer Bass. She was grieving, so you took advantage of her?" Miles ground out.

Frustrated, he rubbed his now sore jaw. "It wasn't like that."

Miles didn't look very convinced. "Bullshit. I know you and how you operate."

"Give me some credit. Sure, I wanted her for a long time before then, but I'd kept my hands off – out of respect to you and Rachel, I might add." Monroe gave him a meaningful look. "She was just trying to cope, and I caved. But I never came on to her, even that night."

"Yeah, I'm sure you tried really hard to resist," Miles snapped.

Monroe jumped up and stood toe to toe with him. "You know what? Fuck you Miles. I cared about her – enough to let her push me away afterwards even though it hurt; enough to storm into Willoughby like a moron and almost get myself killed trying to get her out. How many guys died that night? All because I cared too much to watch her get hurt when her own mother walked her into a trap." Before he did something stupid, Monroe abruptly turned and stormed into the house.

Miles sat down on the porch, overwhelmed by what had just happened there. He'd never thought about Monroe's motivations for saving their asses that night. He'd always just kind of assumed that it was because of the friendship they'd once shared – residuals from a brotherhood gone bad. That he'd almost died to protect Charlie took the fight out of him. He'd watched Monroe go through so much suffering because of it. "Damn," he said in amazement as he finally headed back inside.

Miles flopped down on the couch in the living room. Gene had already disappeared. The old man that apparently owned the place sat in his easy chair with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He gestured towards the bottle that sat on the end table. "Well, help yourself. You look like a man that could use a stiff drink."

Miles didn't have to be told twice. He poured a good sized shot into an empty glass. He took a sip, his eyes widening at the flavor. "Where did you get this?"

Daniel chuckled. "Northerners. I'm amazed you people lasted this long after the blackout. Make it right here on the farm. You're in Kentucky now, son. Just 'cause the lights went out don't mean we forgot how to make a good small batch."

Miles raised his glass in salute. "To Kentucky then. I might like it here after all."

"I'll drink to that," Daniel said as he took a drink out of his own glass. "So Sebastian has brought me more strays. Well, we can always use another set of hands, even if it's just temporary."

"How did he end up here?" Miles asked as he helped himself to another drink.

"Was passin' through town and a couple of locals called him out for who he was. I could tell just by lookin' at him something weren't right, so I gave him a place to work and a new name. Not many folk in town are willing to call me a liar, so he stayed on 'til he got his past back," Daniel explained.

Miles watched Daniel carefully as he told the story. He could see why Bass had thought to bring Charlie and the kids here. He might be crusty old drunk, but the guy's eyes betrayed how smart and kind he really was. "Sorry, I just can't picture Bass as a farmer."

Daniel leaned forward in his chair. "He took to it alright. And he would have stayed on even after he got his memories back if it weren't for the girl. He left for her; and he came back for her too. And I can't say I wasn't happy to see him back."

Miles still couldn't understand. "If you knew who he was from the start, why did you help him at all? Most people would have either turned him in for the reward or just shot him."

Daniel reached for the bottle. "He asked me the same question, so I'll give you the same answer I told him: Everyone deserves a second chance at life. You got one didn't you? Miles Matheson, the Butcher of Baltimore," he saw the look of shock on Miles' face. "Yeah, I know who you are too."

Miles was just speechless. Yep, the geezer was definitely smarter than he looked. "Well, I'll be damned…"

Daniel looked at Miles severely, almost as if he was angry at him. "In my experience, a man needs to forgive himself before he can move on. And to do that he needs forgiveness from those closest to him. You have your family for that: Your niece, her pretty momma. They love you and forgive you, so you got to start all over again. He didn't have anyone else willing to do it. A man can't change if no one will let him. You all didn't, so I did."

Miles caught himself squirming a little under Daniel's gaze. He felt like he was a kid that had just been sent to the principal's office or something. He had never thought about it that way. Monroe had first shown up in Willoughby saying he wanted to help, and all Miles and Rachel had done at every turn was attack him. In hindsight, the more they reminded him of what a violent bastard he was, the more of a violent bastard he become – until the night all hell broke loose.

Monroe poked his head in the room, disrupting their little heart to heart. He saw that Miles now had whiskey, which meant that he'd be a little mellower now. He was too tired to get into a fist fight now. Gene had graciously offered up his room for Miles and Rachel, until they could think of some place for them to sleep permanently. The twins were now fed and settled as well. He sat down on the loveseat across from Miles. There was one more thing they needed to talk about. He poured a drink and downed it before he spoke, dreading the answer. "Miles, where's Connor?"

Miles didn't answer right away. He didn't need to. The look on his face said it all. "How?"

"We were on our way here from Louisiana and we got caught by surprise by a Patriot regiment. The day before we'd met up with a couple undercover Rangers. We were supposed to pass on some orders to another underground group on our way through Tennessee. Connor took off one way and we took off the other." The grief on his friend's face was overwhelming.

Monroe fought back tears. "You just left him there?"

"We didn't have a choice, Bass. If the Patriots got the dispatches, they'd know the name and location of every Texan between here and DC. Texas is really fighting to win this war now. We need them in place. We tried to go back for him, but the only trace we found was this." Miles dug into his pocket and produced an old picture. It was of Emma holding a baby, presumably Connor. "I'm sorry, Bass."

Monroe stood up wordlessly and went outside. He walked around the house and headed to the stable to grieve in solitude. Charlie came looking for him a while later. Miles had told her about Connor. She sat down on the cot next to him, unsure of what to do. She just wrapped her arms around him while he cried. "I never got the chance to make things right with him," he said bitterly. Charlie didn't know what to say, so she just held him tighter. After a long while, she drew him away to their bed. He clung to her like she was a lifeline and eventually fell asleep.

A/N: Before anyone yells at me for not warning about MCD, please note that Miles and Rachel didn't actually see Connor die... It may be a few days before I get the next chapter of this up. I've got the next part of the plot figured out, but this will require another transition chapter and I'm not sure how I want to go about it yet. (There is a full smut scene written, but it's not long enough to stand alone as a chapter yet.) I'll do my best to get it up sooner rather than later, but we'll see.