A/N: Sorry for the delay in the new chapter. The holiday weekend is killer in the bar industry and I had to work all weekend! This was also another dreaded transition chapter. (The next will likely be as well, but it will probably end in at least a little action). Of course, I couldn't leave the story with oh, everything is all hunky dory with our favorite couple. Now I have to deal with the issue of the patriots. I've decided that the show wrapped up that conflict in too neat of a little bundle, so I'm going about it in a different way. I've also decided that I'm going to continue to use the flashbacks as a device to move things along, especially when I need chapters to skip around in time. The next chapter is fairly well written, just needs to be typed up and edited here and there before I can post.

Monroe headed towards the stable, pushing the wheelbarrow as he went. It was only midmorning but already the day promised to be a scorcher. He was not looking forward to the task before him. Even with all of the stall doors that led to the paddock open, the stable would be stuffy. The beginning of August in Kentucky was hot and humid – in short, miserable.

It had been over two weeks since Miles and Rachel had arrived and everyone was finally settling back into things. For the first time since that night at the Carter farm, Monroe finally started to feel somewhat normal again. Since the temperature had gotten so damn nasty, Gene had been sleeping on the couch, but within the next week or so, that would no longer be a problem.

Daniel had decided that with so many people staying that it would be worth the time to fix up the old bunkhouse. He and Monroe had even discussed the possibility of taking on some permanent farmhands. In the meantime, they would wall off part of the structure to create a separate bedroom for Gene, as well as a makeshift office for him to work in. The doctor in town had been excited over the idea of him running a clinic for some of the locals living on the farms further from town.

The only major damper on Monroe's life, as far as he was concerned was Rachel. They would never get along. Too much had happened over the years, and the woman could carry a grudge like no other. It was like she wore a whole backpack full of them 24/7. At Charlie's insistence and for the sake of Miles' sanity, he'd put forth an effort to be civil, but he and Rachel were like Oil and Water. They'd never mix well together, even in the best of circumstances – and an overly crowded farmhouse in the middle of a heat wave was far from that. But, if putting up with Rachel was the cost of peace in his own bedroom, well he'd just have to suck it up.

Charlie slowly opens her eyes. The light coming in from the window indicates that it's just now dawn. She can tell by the rising and falling of the chest behind her that he's still asleep. She tries to slip out of bed, but the arm around her waist tightens to keep her there. She twists to look behind her. Her movements have woken him. "Hey," she says with a sleepy smile.

Monroe smiles right back. "Hey." They lay there and just enjoy the few minutes of peace. They've only gotten a few hours of sleep, but Angie and Danny will be up soon, so there is little point in trying to go back to sleep. Until then, they are both content to just enjoy the quiet.

Deep down, Monroe know she should be getting up. Between the twins having been sick and the days of overwhelming grief, he hasn't done squat in almost two weeks. It's time to get back into the swing of things. They've been paying Avery's men for their help with the Barley harvest, and Monroe feels guilty about it. He knows that Daniel doesn't mind, but still- he's brought a lot of extra mouths to feed. Even so, Monroe can't quite force himself to get moving. It's just too perfect lying here.

Charlie squirms against him. The feeling of her bottom rubbing him in just the right way forces his mind to shut down. He growls into her ear. Of course, she knows exactly what she's doing. This part of his body has apparently decided he needs to make up for lost time. He begins to touch her, starting at her neck and ending at the apex of her legs. Charlie begins to pant he strokes her there. She's wet and ready for him.

Monroe brings her thigh up and slides one leg in between hers. Their legs now tangled, she is open for him. With a shift of his hips, he's pressing up against her entrance. He brushes her hair aside and starts kissing the back of her neck. Charlie's breathing becomes fast and heavy.

Without further ado, he slowly pushes himself into her wet heat. Charlie moans. As he slowly begins to move, his arms come around her. He teases her breasts from behind, winning another low moan. He sets a slow, lazy pace. This morning he's simply enjoying her.

Abruptly, Charlie pulls away from him. He watches her, confused. With a wicked smile she straddles him and starts to ride. He grabs her by the hips helping to lift her. As she slides back down on him, he thrusts his hips up to meet her. She leans forward to kiss him. The change in angle hits her just right. She begins to come undone. He's deep inside her and she's grinding her pelvis on his. With another loud moan, she comes apart. Not to be left behind, Monroe rolls them over, still impaling her. Each slamming thrust into her spent body pushes him closer. He buries his face in her hair as he empties into her with a groan.

They collapse in a heap on the bed. "Well that's what I'd call one hell of a good morning," he says, still panting.

Charlie smiles up at him. "You look better this morning." She reaches her hand up to caress his cheek. Monroe kisses her palm and then gives her a light peck on her lips. He withdraws from her, sliding down to rest his head on her stomach. "Yeah, I guess I am," he says almost in amazement. He places a few soft kisses on her stomach and then reluctantly leaves the bed. He's been wallowing for days. It's time to get back to living.

Once inside the stable, he picked a stall and got started with the disgusting task of raking up the manure and soiled straw. He'd been working for over an hour when he glanced up by chance to see Miles sitting in the hayloft above, feet dangling over like he didn't have a care in the world. Sitting next to him was a bottle of whiskey that he'd managed to sneak past Rachel.

"Um, what are you doing?" he called out as he looked back down at the task before him.

Miles picked up the bottle and took a nice, long drink. He let out a sigh of exaggerated satisfaction, just to make sure that Monroe could hear it. "Watching you work."

Monroe set down the rake he was using and wiped his brow on his sleeve. The stable was stifling. Even with all of the stall doors and windows propped open, there was almost no air circulation today. "I can see that. Why don't you try helping?"

Miles laughed. "Horseshit might be a great look for you Bass, but me? Not so much."

"Dick," Monroe bit out as he picked up the rake and went back to work.

Miles watched him for a while. In truth, he knew he should probably be helping; but then again, it was cooler up here in the loft and he did have a full bottle of whiskey all to himself. "Bass, what the hell are you doing here?" He finally asked.

Monroe traded the rake for a shovel and began scooping pile he'd made into the wheelbarrow. "I'm cleaning out a stable. And when I'm done, I've got a roof to patch; and after that, animals to tend to. In short, I'm working. You know, that thing people do when they want to make a living." He paused long enough to look up at Miles. "And I could get to that roof and those animals a lot faster if you'd get off your drunk, lazy ass and help me!" He snapped

With an exasperated sigh, Miles pushed himself away from the ledge and headed for the ladder. When he was down and standing next to Monroe, he handed him the bottle. "The Patriots are closing in. Texas isn't willing to take the war past the Mississippi. They've got people scattered and keeping an eye on things, but that's it." After Monroe took a few swigs, he snatched the bottle back. "What you should be doing is helping me plan our next move."

Monroe shook his head as brushed passed miles to move on to the next stall. "There is no next move. I'm out."

"What? What do you mean you're out? You're just going to hide in a fucking stable the rest your life?" Miles saw the irony of their situation. A year and a half ago Monroe was berating Miles for eventually wanting to move on. He'd had talked about how at least he'd had a vision for the future and was trying convince Miles to join him. Now, Monroe was scraping up horseshit whereas Miles was the one urging him to do something.

Monroe stopped again. "What do you want from me, Miles?"

Seeing that this was clearly not working, Miles changed tactics. "What happened to your so-called vision? You were fighting to bring back the Republic. Now you're suddenly one of the Waltons? What gives?"

"Yeah, well that vision is dead and buried. Why can't you just leave it in the ground where it belongs? I'm trying to do what's best for the kids; trying to protect them and make sure they've got food on the table and a roof over their heads. If I go running off to fight the Patriots, who's gonna to do that?"

Miles gave up for now. If there was one thing he could say about Monroe, it was that he was stubborn as hell. He set the bottle aside and picked up a rake. At least he was buzzed enough to ignore the fact he was raking up shit.

Aaron stood in the center of the paddock, holding a lead. The yearling attached to the lead stood as far from Aaron as its tether would allow. Monroe leaned on the fence with a bemused look on his face as the yearling and Aaron stared each other down. "You'll have better luck if you stop looking like you're about to shit yourself," he called out.

"What's going on, Bass?" Miles said as he came up from behind. He and Rachel had now been here for over two months. In that time Miles had noticed the bizarre friendship that had at some point developed between the two men. "You and Aaron having a playdate?"

Monroe kept his gaze focused on the paddock. "Just watching Aaron lose a battle of wills with a horse."

"He won't move!" Aaron whined.

Monroe let out a laugh. "And he won't if you're afraid of him!" At that moment the colt chose to play tug of war with the lead. "Dammit," Monroe muttered. He jumped over the fence to take over before the animal hurt himself.

Happily handing over the lead and whip, Aaron joined Miles on the other side of the fence. "Giving up so soon?" Miles asked as they watched Monroe get the horse moving with a subtle tug on the lead.

Aaron tried to pay attention to Monroe's movements. Every so often he'd flick the whip at the ground just so, or make a clicking sound and the animal's pace would change. "I swear that creature hates me," he mumbled.

Monroe slowed the horse back down to a walk. "Okay, Aaron. Get your ass back over here," he ordered.

Aaron climbed back into the paddock and joined Monroe at the center. Miles couldn't hear what they were saying but it was obvious that Monroe was giving Aaron instructions. "You're teaching Aaron to train horses?" He asked as Monroe joined him once more. There were two things totally wrong with this scenario as far as Miles was concerned. One being Aaron working with horses. He could ride if he absolutely had to, but for the most part was terrified of them. The second being Monroe teaching anyone how to do anything other than fight. That was one thing. You could yell at recruits because they had no other choice but to obey. Teaching anything else required patience. That was something Monroe had always lacked.

"Why not? Need to do something with my time. Our little band of refugees are working in the fields, so I don't have to be out there." He broke off to bark a sharp command to Aaron. The man couldn't get a horse moving, but once it was, at the very least he could keep it going, as long as he was constantly reminded what to do. "You wanted us to start a proactive resistance? Well it costs money. I've got four yearlings to train. It'll go a lot faster if I have help. Daniel's got enough to do dealing with people in town and you're busy playing boot camp," he added. "Besides, I think we can both agree that I make people less nervous this way."

Two days have passed since their quasi-argument in the stable. Despite Monroe's reluctance to get involved, the Patriots have forced their hands. News has come from one of Miles' contacts. The Patriots have fallen back east. The fighting with Texas has come to a halt. But, rather than accepting defeat they're apparently just regrouping and recruiting. They mean to turn the remnants of the Georgia Federation and Monroe Republic into an army worthy of taking out Texas and California by brute force.

The reprogramming camps that have been up and running in Alabama and Ohio have only been funneling in small numbers of replacement soldiers. They now mean to set up camps throughout the defunct nations. Tennessee has become saturated with khaki and it's only a matter of time before Kentucky is as well. They've heard that two farms on the eastern border of the former state have been commandeered for this purpose.

The twins have been long since put to bed and they've been holding a family meeting of sorts for the past two hours trying to figure out how to handle these recent developments. "We don't have a choice now, Bass." Miles argues. "If we've learned anything from Willoughby it's that we have to get people on our side before they Patriots start showing up with their star-spangled bullshit. If we wait, they'll take over the town."

Monroe drags a hand through his hair in frustration. "Don't you think I know that? But that means letting people in on my little secret. Avery and Jenny Carter were one thing, but the whole fucking town? It's more than just my neck on the line here. Think about what could happen to Charlie. She could hang right along with me."

Charlie stands up, annoyed. Her priorities changed the second she realized she was pregnant, but she's still a fighter and hates the idea of having to be protected by anyone. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. You can't base every decision on trying to protect me."

"One, yes I can. And two, what about Daniel?" He gestures to where the old man sits with his evening glass of whiskey. He's been silently watching the debate with his usual quiet interest. "If people find out he's been knowingly hiding Sebastian Monroe…" He trails off, leaving the others to fill in the blanks.

Gene decides it's time to put his own two cents in. "He's one of the most respected people in the area." He turns to the man in question. "If anything, maybe you can convince people to accept Monroe."

Daniel thinks about this for a few moments. "It could work. Might be worth a try."

The idea only agitates Monroe further. He starts to pace the room. "Out of the question."

Daniel sets down his glass and pushes himself from his chair. He places himself in Monroe's path. "Sebastian, quit your pacing. You're making everyone seasick." Monroe stops moving, much to Miles' obvious amusement. "What they're saying makes sense."

Monroe calms down for the moment. His expression softens. "Daniel, you could be arrested for helping me. Even if Beecher overlooks this, someone could get word to the Patriots. It could make you a target. You could lose everything – the farm; even your life."

Daniel places a hand on Monroe's shoulder in an almost paternal fashion. "I'm old, Sebastian. I've lived a good life. There's not much they can really do to me now."

It never ceases to amaze the others the affect Daniel has on Monroe. "What about the farm? It's been in your family for generations. They could take it from you."

"If it's to be yours after I'm gone, you'll have to fight to keep it, son." Daniel says quietly.

Monroe's jaw almost drops, but he manages to refrain from looking like a complete confused idiot. "What are you talking about?"

Having sufficiently taken the fight right out Monroe, Daniel returns to his chair and his whiskey. He waits for Monroe to take a seat before he's willing to elaborate further. "I wasn't gonna tell you until I figured out the legalities of it. Kind of hard to leave property to a man that's hiding his identity – especially when we don't really have a government now. But yes, I mean to leave the farm to you and yours."

Monroe does his best to get his emotions under control. He's not exactly comfortable discussing this in front of the others. "I don't understand. Why leave it to me?"

Daniel downs the rest of his drink. "I told you, I'm old. I'm not going to live forever. I've got no blood relations left. You're the closest thing to family I have now; it's right and fitting."

Monroe is touched by this gesture, but at the same time he feels like he's been kicked in the gut. Everyone else is sitting in stunned silence. He gets up and wanders the room, settling in front of the window. He leans on the sill, looking out into the darkness around them. "I'm the reason you don't have anyone left to leave it to," he finally says quietly. His voice is now raw as he tries to regain his composure.

Those words set Daniel off. "Johnny knew what he was signing up for when he joined Georgia's army. And you didn't drop the bombs that took his wife and kids." His voice shaking with anger, Daniel got up once more and stalked over to Monroe, who turned to face him. "You've got a real problem with guilt, Sebastian. The woes of the world do not solely belong on your shoulders," he points a thumb casually at Rachel, "no matter how much that one wills it to be so. You done a lot of bad in your time, but you done some good since – even if you're too stupid to see it. Now it's my farm, and I've a right to give it to anyone I choose."

As crotchety as Daniel normally is, it is almost exclusively in good humor. He enjoys stirring the pot a little and getting people riled because his age lets him get away with it. Monroe has never actually seen him truly mad before now. Before he can even react, Daniel's anger is completely gone. It was as if he'd blown all of his steam in an instant. "I'm choosing you. I know you'll do right by this place. And I love those two young'uns as much as I ever loved my own grand kids. Only fittin' they be raised here."

Monroe hasn't meant to insult Daniel by questioning his judgment on this matter. He just doesn't understand how he's managed to accidently instil the man's loyalty. He cares about the old man to be sure. He's been a good friend and at times even a surrogate father when he needed someone to talk him down from doing something stupid. "Thank you," he says with gratitude. He takes his seat next to Charlie once more. "Well, what do you have in mind?" he asks Miles.

Miles explains his thoughts on the matter. It's simple: feel out the locals, take them aside one at a time and get them on board. Tell them what the Patriots had been doing in Texas, and hope they agree to stand against them when the time comes. Daniel has been talking about hiring on some help on a more permanent basis. They can use this to their advantage and take in some of the men that have been displaced from their farms by the Patriots. They will have witnessed firsthand what the Patriots are up too and that means they will be willing to fight back. That's half the battle. The other half is to train them, which Miles can do.

Throughout the evening, Aaron, Priscilla and Rachel have been largely silent. Monroe doesn't give a damn what Rachel thinks about all of this, but Aaron and Priscilla have become a part of their weird little family. "What do you think?" he asks them now.

Aaron shrugs. "If you're in, I guess we're in too. Not that we are really fighters by any definition. But we'll back your play and help any way we can."

Miles shoots Rachel and Charlie a strange look. He'd never thought he'd see the day that Aaron deferred to Monroe's better judgment on, well anything. Funny what can happen over time. "Well, at least we're all in agreement," He mutters under his breath. And thus their little resistance was born.

Over the past six weeks, Daniel had been going into town several times a week under the guise of farm business, but he was really feeling out the people in town. So far they'd gotten quite a few people on board. The patriots didn't seem to have a lot of support in town, but they were being careful. The biggest obstacle so far had been swaying Robert Beecher, the sheriff. It had been risk, but it ended up paying off. For one, without Atlanta to oversee things, Beecher had become the de facto authority in town. No longer having a form of government, the locals relied on him to keep the peace. He did his best to follow the previous laws of the land and deferred to a council that the town had since elected just to keep things in balance.

As long as no one that knew Monroe's identity was funneling information back to the Patriots, he was at least safe from arrest for now. Beecher had initially been upset over Daniel's deception, but he'd gotten over it. He'd gotten to know the man under his alias, and had rather liked him. Monroe had even helped break up a bar fight turned brawl a few months ago when he happened to have been in town. The instigators had been from the next town over and Monroe had helped in wrangling them into the holding cells in Beecher's office.

Avery Carter was their easiest convert. He'd already known Monroe's identity and one of the farms that the Patriots had taken over had belonged to a friend of his. The man had been killed when he'd tried to put up a resistance. He'd learned of all of this when one of the farmer's cousins (and farmhands) had arrived at Avery's farm a month ago, telling of what had happened that day.

There may not have been a lot of trained men in the area, but Miles and Monroe were finding that they were at least willing to learn. If they could eventually get the entire town behind them, they could start working on some of the neighboring towns as well. Part of what had made the Patriots so dangerous was the way people were buying into their act until it was too late. Keeping them out was half the battle. The Patriots didn't yet have the numbers to take the area by force; subterfuge was still a necessity.

As Miles watched Monroe offer a few more instructions to Aaron, he felt happy for the first time since they'd shown up here. They finally had a plan and for once it seemed to be working. When Texas had declared that they were holding off for the time being, Miles had been worried. He understood the reason why, however. If Texas kept pushing east, they'd leave themselves vulnerable to Mexico in the south. That was not worth the risk, especially since Mexico had shown it was soft to the Patriots. But if they could build a real resistance right here, they might be able to get at least some help from the Rangers after all.