A/N: I've upgraded this to Mature because there is finally some smut (hopefully I haven't lost anyone along the way because of filters or those that find smut in poor taste. Also, warnings in advance, I've decided that juvenile antics were in order to lighten up the mood of this chapter a little. More notes at the end!

Miles, Rachel and Connor see the shell of the building in front of them. Even from a distance, something hadn't looked right. Now that they are closer, they can see where fire has almost completely destroyed the structure. It was here that they left Charlie late last summer. With faces drawn, they guide their horses closer to the house and dismount.

The burnt home still carries the faint aroma of the fire that has ruined it. They look around. There are no signs of recent activity here. This must have happened months ago. Miles nods at Connor. Monroe's son draws his gun just in case and goes to check the other side of the house for some clue as to what has happened here.

Miles and Rachel carefully pick their way up to the porch and into what is left of the house. The charred remains of a body are in the front entry way. "Miles?" Rachel gasps as he eyes start brimming with tears. Miles can hear the panic rising in her voice. That one word from her mouth is enough to have him worried about a second meltdown.

His lips form a grim line as he steps over the body and further into the house. Thankfully, there is no basement. At least he's not in danger of crashing through the floor. A second body lies at the foot of the stairs. He moves to poke his head into the living room off to his left. The ceiling has collapsed, leaving burnt relics from the floor above him strewn about. He doesn't risk going all of the way into the room. He sees a partial charred corpse poking out of the rubble.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, he starts to feel the bile rise in his throat. A fourth body is in front of the stove. It too is burned beyond any recognition, just like the others. He decides he's seen enough. It is too dangerous to venture up the stairs. Even if they can carry his weight, the rest of the second story could collapse at any time. He quickly makes his way out to the front porch where Rachel waits for him.

Rachel stares into the front yard, dazed. "How many?" she asks, her voice quiet and distant.

He leads her off the porch and into the warm drizzle that has started to fall, as if the sky can sense their grief. "We don't know it's them," Miles chokes out.

Rachel comes to life now. She snaps out of her detachment and turns to face him. "I said, how many?" The question comes out more as a demand.

Miles lowers his eyes to the ground. "Four," he whispers, his own eyes start tearing up now. Later he will blame it on the soot.

Connor comes around the front of the house now. He can see their anguish and feels is heart sink. He was pissed when he'd left Charlie here to join the fighting back west. He and Charlie hadn't had what any could call a relationship, but he supposed he'd liked her well enough. More than anything he had been angry over the fact that he'd been tossed aside for someone that she hated. It was quite a blow to the ego (even though their fling had ended long before, it was the principal of the thing). After all, it had been his father she'd slept with.

Even so, she'd also been carrying his brother or sister. With his dad in the wind and no memory of him at all, that baby was really his only remaining family. He'd since come to terms with that and had even accepted it. He'd even been looking forward to meeting his new sibling. But now, if what they saw here was any indication, that would never come to be.

"Did you find anything?" Miles voice betrays how little hope he has now.

Connor shakes his head. "Just a grave, but it isn't one of theirs. Maybe someone from town? I don't recognize the name."

Miles looks up at him, confused. "Show me."

Two hours later, Miles and Connor are still digging. Miles immediately knew something wasn't right with this grave. His mother's maiden name was carved into the piece of plywood that served as the marker. There were only a handful of people left alive that remembered her name, at least few that would be this far away from Jasper. Still, he refused to let any hope grow within him.

"I think I've got something," Connor mutters.

Miles starts to dig next to him. They hit a piece of plywood. At first he thinks that it's a coffin, but no, it's too large and it's not attached to anything. They uncover it completely and climb out of the whole. Miles reaches down with the shovel and uses it to pull the plywood up. As he does so, the stench hits him. Underneath is a rotting corpse. In its hands is what appears to be a mason jar. "Aw, Man," Miles groans, covering his nose and mouth with one hand as he backs out of the hole.

They wait a few minutes for the built-up odor to dissipate just a little. Connor holds the backs of Miles' knees so he can lower himself further into the grave. Gagging he reaches down and peels the jar from the rotting hands that are wrapped around it. "Pull me up," he tells Connor once he has it.

"Look at that," Rachel says, pointing to the corpse's sleeve. Sewn onto it is a patch – the US Flag. Beneath the dirt they can see that the unknown body is wearing khaki. This is a patriot.

Connor is confused. "What the hell? Who buried him here and why? And who is Grace Sullivan?"

Miles' face is lit up like a Christmas tree. "Grace Sullivan was my mother. He used her name so I'd know to find this," he explains as he looks at the jar in his hands.

"He?" Connor asks. From the look on Rachel's face, she's figured it out.

Miles actually laughs now. "I can only think of one person who knew my mom that's twisted enough to bury a message with a dead guy. Yep, this has your dad's name written all over it. The sick fuck." He pulls out the paper inside the jar. After reading what is written there, he shows it to Connor and Rachel. "Handwriting look familiar? Guess we're going to Kentucky."

"It's just too weird. It's going to take time to get used to it," Miles said as he followed Charlie down the path that paralleled the fence separating the pasture from the cornfields.

Charlie stopped and leaned against the fence. "I get it, really. But she's going to have to back off." It had only been two full days since her mom and Miles had shown up. Monroe was still a wreck after learning about Connor. "She's only making it worse for him, and she's going out of her way to do it."

After going a few rounds with Rachel's typical "What were you thinking, what are you doing?" tirade, Charlie had given up trying to reason with her. Things between her and Monroe were fragile enough without Rachel's interference.

Sensing that Charlie would never hear her out, Rachel had changed tactics rather quickly. If she couldn't talk Charlie out of her current living situation, well, she was sure as hell not going to just sit idly by. It was one thing to be alone and a new mother of twins. Charlie needed help with them, and he was there. But now Charlie had her mother, so as far as Rachel was concerned his assistance was no longer required here. It didn't make since to her that Charlie would have let him stick around for any other reason, and she'd made sure to tell Charlie that more than once.

Monroe was still reeling from the loss and Charlie could tell he was doing his best to pull himself together. But Rachel knew him – knew what buttons to push, and damn if she wasn't going to do her best to push them. The very next morning after arriving, Charlie had been headed towards the nursery and had overheard Rachel's first offense in what was likely a well thought out battle plan.

"What do you think you're doing here, Bass?" Rachel says as she enters the nursery.

"I'm changing a diaper, Rachel." Monroe knows what she's really asking but he's tired and grieving and doesn't have the fight in him right now to pick up the gauntlet she's just obviously thrown down.

Rachel stares at him coldly. "You know what I mean. What are you doing here with Charlie? Think you can just erase the past and play house now?"

Monroe finishes changing the baby's diaper and starts to get her dressed. "I'm just doing the best I can to keep my family safe and fed."

"Family? WE are Charlie's family. You're just a sperm donor. You even left her pregnant, remember?"

Finished, Monroe sets Angie back in her crib. He hands her a small rag doll to play with and then picks up Danny to get started with him. "I never would have left in the first place had I known; and the second I got my memories back I came back for her. That's more than anyone can say about you, Rachel. She almost died, and you weren't even there." Monroe isn't trying necessarily to hurt Rachel, but he's had enough. He gets it. Rachel still hates him- maybe even hates him more because he, of all people is the father of her grandchildren. Even so, what right does she have showing up on his doorstep after abandoning Connor to his fate and then judging him?

His words have struck her, so Rachel hits him right back. "I went to go fight so my grandchildren could live somewhere safe. You? You ran and hid from everything you've done like a coward. Because even before the blackout, that's exactly what you were: A coward that hid behind a bottle and Miles. Why don't you just run again, Bass? Before you have a chance to screw these kids up? You have no business having and raising children. Everyone around you gets drug down to your level. Even with your blood, maybe these kids will have a chance if you just disappear before you ruin them too – or get them killed."

Monroe flinches. He's already racked with guilt over Connor. Before he can form a response, Charlie steps into the room. "Mom, that's enough." She walks over to Monroe as a sign of solidarity. She can see the mix of rage and misery etched on his face. He hands her Danny, refusing to make eye contact as he forces a passive expression. Wordlessly he stomps out of the room. She hears the backdoor slam on his way out of the house.

"What are you doing, Mom? He just found out that Connor is dead. Are you trying to push him over the edge?" Charlie is fuming. Rachel knows as well as anyone that Monroe does not handle loss and grief very well.

Rachel grabs Charlie's shoulders and pleads with her. "Charlie, honey, I'm just trying to save you all from his poison. You don't know him like I do. Over the edge? He's already there. You just don't know him well enough to see it."

Charlie does not see Monroe for the rest of the day. He returns to the house very late. Charlie has fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him. She knows he has to come back to sleep: Gene is using the cot in the stable for the time being, so there is no other bed for him other than the one they share. She rouses when she hears the door open.

She knows it's him, but his gait is uneven. She jumps up and follows him down the hall. He's about as drunk as she's ever seen him. He passes out as soon as he flops down on the bed. With a sigh, she takes off his boots and drags him over to his side of the bed. She slides under the covers next to him. Even drunk and out he must sense her presence, because he instinctively rolls towards her. Charlie brushes his hair back off his forehead, noting that he's due for a haircut. He's going to feel like death in the morning.

"Look, I'll talk to her, okay?" Miles' voice broke Charlie out of her reverie. In truth, he was worried about Monroe too. It's the third morning after their arrival. He knew that Monroe had not had a lot of time to mourn – especially when one of those days was spent overcoming what Gene had at one point been worried was acute alcohol poisoning (Monroe had retched for hours after waking up from that bender). But he had watched Monroe do this before, and he was afraid of where his friend was headed. Even Miles could see that Charlie and their children needed him. Someone needed to rein the man in before he got too lost.

Miles felt trapped. He loved Rachel and didn't want to be stuck in the middle. He'd taken what Daniel had said to heart. Maybe Monroe did deserve a second chance. He'd gotten one after all, and it had changed him for the better. "What are you doing, by the way?" Miles changed the subject abruptly.

Charlie had been dangling a handful of carrots over the fence and whistling off and on for the past few minutes. "Just watch," she said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth a goat wandered over to the fence. She yanked the carrots back just enough to keep just enough to keep them out of the animal's reach.

"There's a good boy. Look what I've got. Wanna snack? I bet you do," she taunted the poor hungry animal as she waved the carrots around. Without warning she tossed the carrots to the edge of the cornfield.

"What did you do that for?" Miles asked in total confusion.

Charlie dashed away from the fence and into the cornfield, motioning for Miles to follow her. "Get out of his line of sight," she snapped.

Miles complied. He ducked behind the row of corn and stood next to Charlie. "Okay, you've lost it kid, you know that?"

"Shhh!" They watched as the goat started to kick at the fence, desperate to get to his favorite treat. After a few minutes of solid butting and kicking, the board broke. The goat ducked under the remaining board and sauntered over to the carrots and picked them up before disappearing into the other side of the field.

Charlie looked overly pleased with herself as she started back down the path. "You coming?" she called over her shoulder.

Miles started to follow her once more. "You going to tell me why you just convinced a goat to make a run for it?"

Charlie waited for Miles to catch up. "That goat is Dickhead, Monroe's arch –nemesis. It'll give him something to do and someone to be mad at other than himself and mom."

Miles laughed as he shook his head at her. "You are demented. Smart, but demented. I like it. I guess you've gotten to know Bass better than I thought. When in doubt –"

"-keep him busy," Charlie finished the sentence for him.

They both broke into laughter. A little while later they were standing outside of Charlie's dairy. Monroe had slunk off into the barn next door with the pretense of working, but they suspected he was really just trying to find a place to mope. Seeing Daniel walk by, Miles called out a bit louder than necessary. "You know you've got a broken fence next to the cornfield?"

"God Dammit!" a voice shouted from the barn. Charlie and Miles did their best to keep straight faces while they watched Monroe emerge from the barn and stomp over to the toolshed on the other side of the barnyard. When he was out of sight once more, their laughter erupted again. Daniel just shook his head as he walked on. "Northerners…" he said under his breath.

That Night, Monroe was still late getting to bed, but at the very least he didn't' smell like he'd fallen into a barrel of whiskey. He quietly undressed and got into bed. Charlie watched him, feigning sleep. He kept his distance, lying on his back and staring at the shadows the moonlight cast on the ceiling.

Annoyed and still worried, Charlie rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow. Monroe didn't even react to the fact that she was really awake. "I know you're grieving, but you need to snap out of it, Monroe." He turned his head and looked at her. His expression was passive and cold, but she could still see the pain he was trying so hard to conceal. She softened. "We need you."

With a sigh, Monroe pulled Charlie to him. He just held her close for a while, trying to find the words. "How many things could I have done differently? All the stupid little decisions we make every day – even just one of them could have made all the difference and he'd still be alive."

Charlie sat up abruptly. "Hey, don't talk like that. It wasn't your fault."

He turned away from her again, resuming his inspection of the ceiling. "No, your mom was right. Just being my kid got Connor killed. The Patriots may have pulled the trigger, but if I hadn't become what I am, it never would have happened. He deserved so much more than what he got out of life and I am the one to blame for it." Charlie opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. "Makes me wonder what I'll do to screw up Danny and Angie."

Charlie was fed up. She tried to get him to look at her, but he simply refused. Before he had a chance to fight her, she jumped on top of him, straddling his hips and forcing herself into his line of sight. "You are not that man anymore," she ground out, her voice stern.

"Charlie, I will always be that man. Or, at least a part of me will." He desperately wanted her to understand.

Charlie lowered herself so that they were lying chest to chest. "You're wrong, and I'll prove it to you." She gently bent her head down and kissed him. "See, if you were still the person you were in Philly, I wouldn't be here with you now. You'll fight when you have to, and you'll kill when you do – to protect the kids. And maybe it will fuck you up in the head for a while after, but you're not the monster you're afraid of being."

Charlie pressed her lips to his once more. "So quit your moping and kiss me already, you big jerk," she said against his mouth. Unable to resist the feel of her body against his, he caved. Slowly, he started to move his lips against hers, kissing her back. He slid his hands up her arms and shoulders before running them up and tangling them in her hair. Charlie melted into him.

Without warning Monroe rolled, flipping her over and settling himself over her. Her lips parted in surprise and he took this as an opportunity to delve into her mouth. A low groan radiated from his throat as their tongues began a slow dance. Charlie ran her hands up his sides. His muscles contracted with the contact. She arched herself under him, trying to get closer. She could feel his arousal pressing up against her through his boxers and the thin cotton shorts she'd worn to bed.

Monroe yanked off her tank top and tossed it behind him. He rolled onto his side so he had a better view of her body, smiling in appreciation. The only other time they'd done this she had the lean, lithe body of an amazon. Now her curves were softer, her breasts fuller, hips wider. He stroked her body, starting with her neck, down to her hip and back then back up again, locking eyes with her as his found her breast, cupping it gently. He could see a flash of insecurity in her eyes at the changes motherhood had brought her body. "You are even more beautiful than before," he murmured as he began to tease her nipple with his thumb.

He slid down on the bed and started placing slow hot kisses across her abdomen, trailing the faint white marks there. He found that this evidence of the lives they'd created together turned him on in a way he would never have expected. Charlie's breath caught in her throat. She began to writhe under him as he slowly began to work his way up her body. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into him. "Please," she moaned.

Monroe worked his way up to her mouth. Charlie kissed him back as she drug her hands down his body and to the waistband of his pants. She slid them down as far as she could reach before he took over and kicked himself free before turning his attention to yanking her shorts and panties off. Charlie opened her legs for him, wrapping them around his waist. She felt the tip of him at her entrance and waited for him to slide inside her.

When he didn't immediately comply, she looked up at him questioningly. "Tell me," he said to her now. Now was his turn to let his own insecurities show.

Charlie reached up and caressed his cheek. "I love you," she whispered. With a groan he slammed himself home. She moaned as he stretched her, filling her. Monroe withdrew from her excruciatingly slow, leaving just the tip of him inside her.

He hesitated again, this time rotating his hips and teasing her as he moved in slow circles. Their eyes met. The motion drove her wild. She wanted him deep within her once more. "Again," he commanded her.

"I love you," she told him, louder and more forcefully as she tightened her arms around him.

"God, I love you, Charlie." He moaned as he thrust into her swiftly as his mouth came crashing down on hers. He continued now withdrawing from her slowly each time before ramming himself into her. Each brutal thrust forcing a moan from her as their tongues continued a duel of their own. With each thrust Charlie's hips rose to meet him. The feeling of him deep within her drove Charlie mad as she felt herself get closer to release.

Their mouths broke apart and she buried her face in his neck to smother the cries that she could no longer hold back as his pace increased, each thrust becoming more desperate. They clung to each other, their bodies making perfect contact from where they were joined all the way up to their shoulders. Charlie felt herself building up and was ready to explode when Monroe thrust into her one last time, groaning loudly. The feeling of him spilling himself against her cervix pushed Charlie over the edge and she shattered, convulsing around him as he finished emptying into her; she had to bite into his shoulder to stop the scream that threatened to escape.

After a few minutes, he kissed her tenderly before rolling over and pulling her onto his chest. They lay there together; slick with sweat as their hearts pounded and they caught their breaths. A while later, she was still lying there, tracing lazy circles on his chest with her fingertips. Monroe chuckled and squirmed. "That tickles," he said.

Charlie giggled. "Who would have thought that Sebastian Monroe, leader of armies is - of all things -ticklish?" Unable to resist, she did it again.

Monroe grabbed her hand. "Come on, Charlie. Stop!" Still, he was laughing. He brought her captured hand to his mouth and placed light kisses on her knuckles. "By the way," he said in between kisses. "You and Miles are totally busted."

Charlie looked up at him innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

Monroe raised a brow at her. "Dickhead missed a carrot and Miles dropped his flask." Charlie shrugged, still intent on denying all. "Don't give me that Miss Innocent routine. I'm not buying it. I know better."

Charlie gave up the pretense. She sent him a wicket smile. "So how long did it take you to catch him this time?"

"About six hours. Evil woman."

Charlie flinched. She hadn't expected it to take him so long. "You mad?"

"I was for about five minutes – until I realized you were just trying to keep my mind off of things and Miles probably owes me for burying that jar with a body." Suddenly, Monroe flipped her over onto her stomach. He gave her a playful swat on the butt. "Don't do it again," He said with mock menace. He brushed her hair aside and placed his lips on the nape of her neck. He kissed her slowly down her neck and back, sending shivers up her spine. He worked his way back up again, his arms bracing him so he didn't crush her. She could feel him hardening behind her.

Charlie wiggled beneath him as he pressed his length against the back of her thighs. "Again?"

His breath was hot behind her hear. "You're damn right, again." This time they went slowly, their hands exploring each other's bodies carefully, learning every nuance. They finished only a handful of hours before dawn, finally falling asleep holding on to one another; sated and happy.

If you can't tell, I really don't like Rachel. Elizabeth Mitchell is an awesome actress, but the character is a bitch in my opinion (If you can't tell by my writing). I also thought that it would be more true to canon to have Miles a bit more reluctantly accepting. Rachel, on the other hand has always been portrayed as the type to overlook something positive just to keep with her own internal definition of what is.

Also, rather than having lengthy dialog explaining what everyone has been doing in the interim (or taking forever moving the story along), I've chosen to kind of skip around with the use of flashbacks. I'm curious to know how that's working for everybody, so please let me know if you would be so kind.