Monroe guided his horse south, Brodie following quietly behind him. The dog could sense his master's unease. The Patriots had started coming in to the northern part of Kentucky from Illinois and Indiana. Miles would not be happy with this latest development, but until he could get back home to tell him, Monroe knew there was little he could do about it other than avoid them. Already he'd almost run into several patrols and lost an entire day because of it.

That had been two days ago. He hadn't seen any sign of them since, but he still was being overly cautious. The last thing he needed right now was to clue the tan fucks into the fact that he was not only still alive (as far as any of them knew, he was killed in that blast in Willoughby), but that he was close by. He was anxious to get home. He and Charlie had a lot to talk about when he got back, and he had a feeling he had some explaining to do.

It's Sunday, and Monroe is taking advantage of having a little down time and spending it with the twins. Tomorrow he and Aaron will ride north to deliver two of the yearlings that have just finished their training. On a long journey, Monroe realizes that Miles is probably the better choice for a traveling companion. Not only is Aaron completely inept in a fight, but he's a horrible rider still; but he helped to train these animals (sort of), so he deserves to go.

The horses that they intend to sell are excellent creatures and they will bring in some much needed diamonds. They harvest has been good, so they've got enough food to go around, but food won't pay their new farmhands or by guns and ammo.

Charlie is in the dairy; Priscilla and Aaron have gone into town with Gene. The others are scattered around. He has no idea where Rachel is (nor does he care) and he assumes that Miles is with her, following like a horny little lost puppy. For now it is just him and the kids – a rare occurrence of late. He's sitting on the bench swing, watching them toddle around on the porch happily. Brodie is taking advantage of Monroe's good mood and is sitting on the swing next to him. Another rare occurrence – He's on the furniture without getting yelled at.

Every so often, one of the kids runs over to Monroe to show him some bug or rock they've found. Every so often he has to run over to them to take said bug or rock out of one of their mouths. It is on one of these occasions that he picks up Danny to discover that he's in dire need of a new diaper. He picks up Angie as well and takes them both inside. He sets Angie inside the wooden playpen that he's set up in the living room and heads into the nursery to take care of Danny.

He returns a few minutes later to find Angie gone. His daughter is proving to be quite the climber. She's already been walking for a month, whereas her brother has only been at it for a week. Two nights ago she discovered she could climb out of her crib. He hadn't even thought about that when he'd put her in the playpen – Its rails are taller than the ones on the crib by over six inches. Six inches is a lot to an eleven month old.

Knowing Danny can't come close to climbing anything yet, he sets his son inside the playpen now and sets about finding where his twin has wandered of too. Monroe isn't worried. She's in the house somewhere; probably hiding with a big smile on her face. He's looking under the couch – a favorite hiding spot of hers when Brodie yips from behind him. Monroe instantly feels the panic rise in his chest. He's absolutely sure that he'd left Brodie on the porch, which means the screen door didn't latch when he'd come in. "Brodie, stay!" he commands his dog as he bolts outside.

"She's not even one. She couldn't have gone far," Monroe says aloud, trying to reassure himself. He doesn't see her in front of the house. He goes around to the side, and there she is, next to the woodpile. Breathing a sigh of relief, he takes a step towards her. Suddenly Angie lets out an ear-piercing scream and starts to wail. He runs over to her. He is only a few feet away when he hears a telltale rattle.

The blood drains from his face when he realizes why she has screamed. He slows his approach. Grabbing a piece of wood from the top of the pile, he carefully circles around his daughter. She is holding her arm and he can see blood. She looks up at him and lifts her arms up to be held. He can't take that chance yet. If he picks her up, the snake could strike again.

He gets into position and the snake turns its attention to him. Before it can strike again, he brings down the piece of wood as hard as he can. The rattler is dead instantly. He picks up Angie and runs to the porch with her. She is still screaming and sobbing. He removes her hand from her forearm and sees two fang marks, confirming his worst fear at that moment: she's been bitten.

Still holding her he goes inside and pokes his head out the back door. "Charlie!" he bellows, hoping she will hear him. He can hardly leave Danny alone to find someone to help. He needs Gene, but the town is a three hour ride away. He calls over to Brodie. "Go get Charlie!" Knowing the command well, the dog leaps out the back door and takes off in the direction of the dairy.

He goes back inside and paces the living room. He holds Angie close, keeping her arm down, below her heart. He hears Brodie barking excitedly from out back. Charlie is coming. By now, Angie has stopped crying. This sends another wave of panic through him. He sits down on the couch to look her over. She is alert and watching him. Every now and then, she lets out a little snivel. It's been fifteen minutes or so since she's been bitten.

As he hears the backdoor open, he inspects the bite mark on her arm. The bleeding has slowed and it's not swelling. He lets out a breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding and relief washes over him. "It was a dry bite… A dry bite…" Charlie finds him like this, repeating those words over and over again as he holds their daughter close to his chest, tears in his eyes.

"What happened?" Charlie says as she rushes into the room. She drops to her knees to have a look at Angie. She can tell that the child has obviously been crying, and the look on Monroe's face has her terrified.

"She climbed out of the playpen and somehow got outside," he started to explain. He is slowly calming down.

Charlie starts to lose it. "She what? Where the hell were you?"

"I was changing her brother. How the hell was I supposed to know she could climb out of it?" He snaps.

Charlie realizes he's right. She still wants to yell at him, but she can see that he is still in the process of recovering from thinking he'd lost her. She decides to cut him some slack. "Did she fall? Get hurt?"

"I found her out by a woodpile and she kind of got bit by a snake." He winces when he says that last part.

"What kind of snake?" Charlie's voice breaks.

He winces again. "Diamondback."

Charlie's eyes are shooting daggers at him. "A rattlesnake? You let our daughter get bit by a rattlesnake?"

"Will you calm down? It was a dry bite," He gets it. She's pissed. If the situation was reversed, he'd be pissed too. But his daughter has just scared ten years off the end of his life, so he'd rather not be yelled at right now.

Charlie stops her yelling again. She knows it's not helping. "How can you be sure?" She chokes out.

He relaxes his hold on Angie so Charlie can see for herself. "Look, she's fine. It's not swelling. Rattler bites swell a lot and fairly quickly. We got lucky."

Angie is basking in all the attention she's getting. She's long forgotten the pain of the bite or the anxiety caused by her father's reaction to the mean thing that had hurt her. "And the rattler?" Charlie asks.

"Dead."

Charlie stands and picks Angie up off of Monroe's lap. Danny has started to cry in the playpen, mad at being confined and that his sister is getting both of his parents' undivided attention. Monroe goes to hold him, instantly calming the boy down. Charlie stays close the rest of the day. When Gene returns from town, he gives her a checkup just to be on the safe side, but all he does is confirm what Monroe had already told her. It was a dry bite and she will be just fine.

As the sun got lower in the sky, Monroe looked for a good place to set up camp. He was not looking forward to spending another cold night without a fire, but he was not willing to risk it. Even without having to avoid Patriots, he was still travelling with a sack full of diamonds from the sale. That in and of itself was good reason to be paranoid; no matter how good he was, if a bandit brought enough friends he'd still be screwed.

It was well past dark when he finally found a spot that offered enough protection for him to even consider sleeping there – not that he ever slept well on the road in the first place. Even if he was traveling with others he never seemed to fall fully asleep, but this unfortunate side-effect of travelling had kept him alive on more than one occasion. As he unsaddled his horse, he started to question for the millionth time his judgment in taking off on this trip alone.

Monroe is in the stable checking on the yearlings he and Aaron will take with them in the morning. The trip will take a little over a week, and if everything goes according to plan will bring in a very good price. He checks their mounts as well, one last time. He doesn't want any delays. He hates leaving for this long, especially after what happened earlier today. He'd even considered convincing Miles to take his place on this trip instead, but he knows it has to be him. Miles doesn't know anything about the animals they'll be selling. That knowledge will help in negotiations.

He turns to leave and finds Rachel glaring at him from the doorway. It's been a long day and dawn will come all too soon. He is in no mood to put up with her tonight. "What do you want, Rachel?"

"A rattlesnake, Really, Bass?" She spits the words at him. "I knew you were a total fuckup, but that is really something. She could have been killed."

In the mood or not, this is a confrontation that is long overdue. "Like you're mother of the year, huh Rachel?" He takes a menacing step towards her. "You left your kids, remember? Left them to follow and fuck their uncle."

Rachel narrows her eyes at him. His words have struck home, he can see it. "You took me prisoner."

He's heard this enough times already to last him a lifetime. "Maybe it ended up that way, but that's not how it started. We asked Ben to come and tell us how to turn the power back on. We knew he was involved somehow. You showed up instead and offered yourself as hostage."

Rachel takes a nervous look behind her. It's still warm enough that the windows to the house are open. She doesn't want anyone to overhear. She ventures past him, closing the door behind her. She heads towards the tack room. For some stupid reason (that he will later question several times over), Monroe follows her. "I did it to protect Charlie and Danny from the Republic. If you had power you would have done… well what you did when you finally had it."

Monroe just laughs coldly. It is inconceivable that she's still sticking to that story. "Bullshit. You think I didn't know what the two of you were doing?"

This conversation has taken an unexpected turn and has given her the edge she needs. Rachel smiles up at him. "You think I didn't know that you were jealous?"

Rachel never ceases to amaze him. "I was what? And people say I'm delusional."

Rachel advances towards him. "Why else would you take advantage of our little captive-jailor relationship, Bass?"

Monroe shakes his head in disbelief. He can't believe that she's even bringing this up. "You think you're going to use that against me? That was a long time ago, right after Miles left – and you were the one that started it." They also both knew that he'd taken to locking her up after that night. Before then, Rachel had pretty much free reign of Independence Hall. He'd been drunk - very drunk that night and had been wrecked over Miles' recent assassination attempt and subsequent flight from Philly. So when she showed up in the middle of the night, hell bent on getting into his pants, he hadn't put up much of a resistance.

"I was your prisoner," Rachel repeats again. "I had to do whatever it took to survive, especially after Miles left me with a sociopath."

He turned away from her. She really was a vindictive bitch. "I never treated you poorly until after that night. And I never would have if you hadn't tried to use it against me afterwards, just like you are now."

Rachel places herself back in his line of sight, her cold smile still plastered on her face. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "I wonder what Charlie would think if she found out that the man she's been shacking up with fucked her mother?"

The woman is really hell bent on getting him out of the picture. After that one night, he knows that he'd done some unforgiveable things to Rachel, and she will never let it go, even for Charlie's sake. But what she's just threatened to do is beyond low. "Don't. Do you have any idea how much that would hurt her? Do you even care?"

Monroe has heard enough. Rachel cannot be reasoned with when it comes to his and Charlie's relationship. Before she can respond, he reaches out and grabs a screwdriver from the workbench behind her. He holds his hand out to her. "You want me gone so bad? Fine, do it."

She looks at the object in his hand, a dazed look on her face. When she doesn't immediately reach for the screwdriver, he grabs her by the wrist and forces her to take it. He takes a step forward. Out of instinct, Rachel holds it out. He stops when the tip of the tool is pressed up against his chest. "Come on. It's your weapon of choice, isn't it? You screwdriver wielding psychopath."

Rachel sees the absolute rage in his eyes. She knows that she's pushed him too far. She drops the screwdriver and brushes past him, running out of the stable as fast as she can. Monroe waits for a few minutes, trying to calm himself down before he goes back into the house.

Charlie is in their room when he enters. She can almost feel the anger radiating off of him. "What happened now?"

He takes a deep breath and holds it for a second, still attempting to rein in his temper. "I can't live like this anymore, Charlie. Your mom needs to find a place in town or something."

Charlie is confused. She goes over to him. "What happened?"

Monroe has no intention of going into details. "I just can't live with that woman any longer. I've tried Charlie. I really have; for you and Miles, I've done my best."

Charlie stands firm, her hands on her hips. There is no way he's going to make her kick her own mother off the farm. "She's family."

"No, I'm your family. The kids are your family. Miles, Daniel, even fucking Aaron and Priscilla are your family. Rachel? She's just a bitch with a vendetta. It's her or me Charlie. I'm not going to live my life like this. Not anymore." He hadn't meant to give her an ultimatum when he'd come in here, but he feels like she's left him no choice.

Charlie's eyes filled with tears of anger and frustration. After what had happened earlier today, she cannot handle the position he was putting her in. "Don't you dare try and make me choose between you and my mom. You might not like my decision."

His anger immediately dissipates. It's like she's just kicked him in the junk. "Fine," he says, clearly hurt. His last words to her bring to mind the last time they've fought. This time, he doesn't slam the door. He whistles for Brodie before silently leaving the room, gently closing the door behind him.

It was the middle of the night. Monroe was only lightly dozing when he heard a twig snap in the distance. Brodie must have heard it too, as he started to growl. He reached for his sword belt and gun. He kept low to the ground, taking cover behind a large tree as he bucked the belt around his waist.

He waited in the dim moonlight until he saw them. The khaki uniform was a dead giveaway. Thankful that they were just patrolling and hadn't yet spotted him, he started to back up, intending on saddling his horse and getting the hell out of there. Before he could take more than a few steps, he heard a gun cock behind him. "Hands up" a very young voice ordered.

Monroe didn't hesitate. He dropped his weapons and slowly turned with his hands held out in front of him. Before the kid had a chance to react, he rushed him. Taking him down, Monroe forced the kid's rifle up and shot him under the chin. Monroe grabbed his weapons and raced back to camp. He was reaching for the saddle when the rest of the squad came into view. The fighting began. He took his first shot, bringing down one of them immediately. Another man took aim and fired. The bullet went through Monroe's side. A second shot went wide and hit the horse in its right hindquarters. The horse reared, frightened and in pain.

Monroe used this distraction to his advantage and advanced toward them with his sword. Darkness and the Patriots' inexperience were on his side. He shot one more as he got close and then went after the other three. He ran one through with his sword and then turned to use the kid's rifle against another. The last one went down with a slice to the throat.

Monroe ran over to the horse and grabbed the reins before the animal bolted. The wound wasn't serious; the animal would survive it and would probably still be able to be ridden – but not tonight. Monroe could hear shouts in the distance. "Yay, they've brought friends," he grumbled.

His mind raced. He didn't have a whole lot of time. He dug the bag of diamonds out of his jacket pocket and put them in the saddle bags already strapped to the horse. The saddle would just have to be left behind. It would only hinder the horse now and he didn't have time to secure it anyway. Offering up a quick prayer, he slapped the animal on the rump and sent it running. With any luck, the animal would find its own way home.

He worked quickly. He knew there was a chance he wasn't going to make it back home in one piece. He was frantic. If he didn't come back, Charlie would think he'd left her. He used his knife to cut one of the patches off of a dead Patriot's uniform. He called over to Brodie. The dog walked over to him. Monroe untied the rope that served as Brodie's collar. Using the knife again, he cut a hole into the center of the patch and threaded the rope through it. He tied it back round his dog's neck.

"Go home, boy." He said. The dog cocked his head at Monroe, as if he was desperately trying to understand. Monroe sighed. "Go get Charlie, Brodie. Go get her." The dog finally got it. With one last look at his master he let out a low whine and ran off into the woods, following the path the horse had taken.

Monroe winced as he grabbed his weapons. The bullet had gone straight through and most likely hadn't hit anything vital, but it still hurt like hell. He opened his jacket and shoved his spare shirt inside, doing his best to get it onto both sides of the wound. He zipped his jacket up once more and hoped it would help to stop the bleeding. He didn't have time to tend to it further. He'd sent the horse and Brodie south towards home, so he headed due east. He'd have to take the long way around; he didn't want to take the risk of leading the Patriots straight to Providence.

Monroe didn't make it more than a mile before he was surrounded. He fought hard, but one of them got into his blind spot and took him down. He waited for the end to come, but it never did. He watched as a figure approached from the distance. "Sebastian Monroe. Fancy meeting you here." The pasty, pinched face of Ed Truman loomed over him.

"Dammit," Monroe muttered under his breath right before butt of a rifle came down, rendering him unconscious.

It is dawn before Charlie realizes he's left. She had assumed he'd only gone to sleep in the stable, just like their last major blowout. Aaron comes in and announces that he's gone. He's taken the yearlings with him. "I always knew he couldn't be trusted," Rachel says, sounding rather pleased with herself.

Charlie looks at her mother, truly looks at her. This is a woman that has been twisted by bitterness and hate every bit as much as Monroe had been twisted by power and loss. The difference is that he's been trying so hard to let it all go. Rachel, on the other hand is holding onto her hatred of Monroe like it's a lifeline. "We argued last night – about you. He left because of you."

Miles can hear the anguish and disappointment in Charlie's voice. He knows he's about to get stuck in the middle again. "What did you do, Rachel?" Even he is worried; this is not the time for anyone to be wandering around alone, even if that someone is as capable as Monroe.

Rachel shrugs. "I didn't do anything. I just told him the truth." She doesn't elaborate. Despite her nonchalance, she suddenly has a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she really did go too far this time

Charlie grabs her mother by the arm. "Hopefully, he's just gone to do the sale on his own. That gives you a week to find a place to stay."

Monroe woke up feeling groggy; his mouth, dry. He immediately realized he'd been drugged after he'd been knocked out. His shirt and jacket were missing, but his side had been bandaged. Whatever Truman had in store for him must involve keeping him alive.

He looked around him. The walls and floor were concrete. A dim stream of sunlight filtered in through a small window above him. He must be in a basement somewhere, which meant that they were likely quite a bit further north than where they'd started. Basements weren't as common in the southern portion of the state. He briefly considered the chances of escape through the window, but it seemed unlikely. The window was too small for him to fit through.

The room was empty save for the metal cot he'd been laying on when he'd awoken. There was a bucket and canteen in the corner of the room. The purpose of the bucket was quite obvious. He opened the canteen and smelled its contents. It appeared to be plain water. He took a small sip, tasting but not swallowing. He didn't trust the Patriots not to drug him again or poison him, but then again why give him a bucket to piss in if he was going to be passed out. Or, why go through the trouble of patching him up if they were just going to poison him later?

Either way, he did not relish the idea of dying of thirst, so he drank it anyway. He paced the room for what seemed like hours. Bored with this, he sat back down on the cot. He didn't know how long he was going to be down here. If the growling in his stomach was of any indication, it had been at least a few days since he'd eaten. He might as well concern energy while he could.

… back in Providence…

Charlie sat on the front porch holding her daughter on her lap. It had been ten days. He should have been back by now. That is, if he'd intended on coming back at all. The words of their fight echoed in her mind. He'd left her. He'd taken the colts to sell and was on the run. Where else could he be? Whatever had happened between Monroe and Rachel that night had been enough to send him way when he thought she'd chosen her mother over him.

She had been alternating between devastation and anger ever since he'd left. How could he just walk away like that? What about the twins? Even if something between them had broken that night, how could he leave them? Then again, what the hell was the matter with her? You may not like what I decide. Why did she have to go and say that? She knew him well enough to know that if he was willing to risk hurting her or Miles by trying to throw Rachel out, he must have had a very good reason for having done so.

Charlie heard the screen door open, but did not bother turning her head to see who had joined her. "He'll come back," Miles said quietly as he joined her on the swing. He plucked his great-niece up and started to bounce her on his knee. "I've known him my whole life. I know him. He'll come back for them. Family is everything to him. He probably just went alone to clear his head. You'll see."

They sat together for an hour or so. Priscilla came out and offered to get Angie ready for bed. The twins were down to only nursing twice a day now. One of those times was right at bedtime. "I'll come put them down in a minute," Charlie said quietly as Priscilla headed inside with Angie. A little while later Charlie reluctantly stood up to go inside. She had her hand on the door when Miles suddenly said, "What's that?"

Charlie slowly turned back around. She saw something approaching down the road in the distance. Side by side, she and Miles watched until it was close enough to see. It was a horse – without a rider. Behind it, a Border collie nipped at its hooves, sending it towards them. This was the horse Monroe had taken with him. Miles opened to door and shouted to the others to come out.

Charlie rushed off the porch and grabbed the horse's reins. She could see the crusted blood on the animal. She took a closer look. "It's been shot." She suddenly felt sick.

Daniel, Rachel and Aaron came out of the house. Miles joined Charlie by horse. "Well, we know it didn't throw him – no saddle." He started to rifle through the saddlebags now. He pulled out the sack of diamonds. "And we know he was on his way back, at least," he added thoughtfully.

Daniel bent down to grab Brodie by his collar. Brodie had been barking excitedly, which was causing the horse to stamp nervously. Miles needed to get the animal stabled so Gene could look at its injury. He felt something in his hand as he held the dog still. There was something attached to the collar. He squatted down for a better look. In all his years, Daniel had never felt his blood run cold before now. He untied the rope and went over to where the others were standing. "Have a look at this."

In his hands he held an American flag with a rope threaded through it. "Bass must have done this and then sent the animals towards home." He locked eyes with Charlie. They both were trying not to panic. "That means he's still alive and couldn't have been captured – at least not before he found the time to do this."

Rachel backed away from the others. This is my fault. What have I done?

A/N: Yeah, so I decided to have a little bit of fun with the argument Monroe and Rachel had in the S&it Happens! episode. I just kind of turned it around a little, and instead of the kiss, Monroe did the bit with the screwdriver instead – just as drastic, but not "cheating" lol. I just like his character more than hers, so I had to make it a little more of her idea and him just being along for the ride (well that and I needed a reason for him to pick a fight with Charlie and skip town so he could get captured). Since the show tends to use being captured as a device to move things along, I decided – what the hell, I'll do it too. Warning: the next chapter will not be very fun for Monroe. That chapter is basically written and hopefully I can get it up tomorrow or the next day. Thanks again for reading and for any and all feedback that you send my way.