A/N: Sorry again for the delay. This is the second to last chapter. Warning! There's a huge chunk of this that is silly and sappy. This is the second to last chapter. This one, along with the rest gets them through a huge portion of their post-war year as a kind of epilogue of sorts. There is stress, followed by way too much fluff (don't judge me!) and then followed by sads. Disclaimers/notes at the end.

With John Greene having everything well in hand when it came to the harvest, Monroe could afford to divert most of his attention towards catching up on the book s and dealing with the livestock. In the past, Daniel had always made sure that no one in their community had starved during bad years; because of the war, this was shaping up to be one of those years.

He sat pouring over the ledgers with Charlie, trying to find a way to make ends meet. He felt lost without Daniel's help and input, but by the end of September, the old farmer's mind had slowly started a slow decline to catch up with his body. Gene had already warned them that he'd be lucky to even make it to winter, let alone through it. Monroe just couldn't bring himself to trouble Daniel further with the financial strain they found themselves dealing with.

Priscilla had taken over the majority of his care whereas everyone else living in their household pitched in where they could with the upkeep of the house to lessen her burden. Much to Monroe's dismay, this meant Rachel had once again taken over the cooking.

He drug a hand through his hair. It was getting very late and they'd been working on the books since the kids had gone down. Charlie could see the lines of worry etched into his face in the dim lamplight. "The only thing we can sell outright is the tobacco. Everything else is going to have to be divided up," he said wearily. As their one non-edible cash crop, the tobacco had not been great either. Daniel hadn't planted as much as normal and what had been planted did not reach its full potential.

"What about the taxes?" Charlie asked as she picked up the notice from Lexington. Of course Donovan had been sure to address the issue of taxes as soon as he'd gotten Congress up and running. A government couldn't run on nothing after all, and for that matter neither could an army.

Monroe hadn't even begun to factor them in. Donovan had decided to keep with the common practice of using gold and diamonds as currency for the time being, so the only thing they had going for them was that there was none of the inflation that came with issuing paper money. However, Donovan had declared that only 20% of taxes could be paid in goods, so they needed to come up with actual hard cash in the meantime. "Ugh! I don't know!" he felt the anger and frustration rise. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths in an attempt to push it away.

After a while longer, Charlie finally gave up. "I'm going to bed. Let's just work on it again in the morning, okay?"

Monroe yawned and stretched for a second. "I'm gonna keep at it just a bit longer. I'll be in shortly." Charlie kissed him briefly before retreating. Once she was gone he went back to the ledgers and the task of trying to make the numbers work, but the fact of the matter was no matter how many times he added two and two, he couldn't make them equal five.

When Rachel padded into the kitchen early the next morning to get started on the fieldhands' breakfast, he was still at the table – his arms crossed over the books before him, using them as a pillow. The oil lamp he'd been using had long since burned out. She shook him gently by the shoulder. "Bass… Bass!"

His head shot up and he looked around, disoriented. "Huh?"

She shook her head at him and chuckled as she filled the lamp again and prepared to relight it. "Get up and go to bed. You're in my way."

"What time is it?" he said with a yawn.

Rachel went to the stove and started filling the firebox with wood. "About an hour before dawn," she said as she worked.

He stood up with a groan. Instead of heading to bed he went out the back door to start his day. When he returned two hours later after feeding the animals he felt like a zombie. The world around him was fuzzy and he just couldn't get his brain working all the way. More than once Miles or Charlie had to wake him up as he dozed at the table over breakfast.

"Bass? Earth to Bass!" Miles said as he snapped a finger in front of his face. Monroe's eyes were open, but Miles was fairly sure he'd still been asleep.

He blinked a few times and tried to focus on the person speaking to him. "What?"

If their circumstances weren't so dire, it would have almost been funny. Miles was starting to worry that the added stress and sleepless nights would start to take a toll and send him back to where he was a month ago. "I asked if you'd come up with any ideas yet?"

Monroe took a drink of the coffee in front of him, praying that the caffeine would jolt him back more firmly into reality. All he could think was how much he'd miss it, but the price of coffee beans coming out of Mexico had recently tripled and it was questionable as to if they could spare the expense. He'd had a few ideas bouncing around his head as he'd gone out earlier. "Maybe. Taxes aren't due until April. If I can get this last round of yearlings trained and get the two we didn't sell last year saddle-broke maybe we can turn enough of a profit to get by." It had worked before the war, and that had been just the two he'd sold on the worst business trip ever.

He had six in total, including the two that were old enough to ride – seven if he counted the colt that would be weaned in a few weeks. He'd had his heart on keeping that one, but even if it was only halter-broke it might be worth more than any one of the others.

Miles was skeptical. "Who would you sell them to? Everyone's broke because of the war."

Monroe thought about this. The man did have a point. Their value wouldn't mean shit if no one could afford them. Despite his exhausted and addled state, he mulled this over and actually came up with what he thought might be a viable solution. "What about Texas? The Rangers always buy their horses young and train them themselves – and they've got the cash flow."

"Wait a minute. That'd be the post-blackout equivalent of selling an aircraft carrier to China," Miles countered.

Monroe shrugged. "Wasn't illegal before the blackout, now was it? Besides, if Donovan wants his damn taxes, the money has to come from somewhere. You'd think he'd give Daniel some kind of credit after supplying his men and the training center for all those months." He could not get over the fact that the man seemed to have forgotten everything they'd done to put him in power.

Rachel spoke up. "Why don't you just raise prices in the dairy and sell the corn for a bit more?" She was eager to find a solution that wouldn't put them back on Donovan's radar.

"Because that's not what Daniel would want, and it's still his farm," Monroe snapped. He hated the constant reminder that that responsibility was now his, especially when every decision he made reflected on the old man. Just because he was bedridden 90% of the time didn't mean that the farm didn't belong to him still.

He tried to calm himself before continuing. "Daniel always made sure to take care of his neighbors when shit hit the fan. If we raise prices, we're just going to end up gouging the entire community. Everyone's harvests were shit this year and they need the food. I won't do that to them, especially when it's going to make him look like an asshole." His voice lost a lot of the bite. He knew Rachel had a good point, but he couldn't bear to go against what Daniel would have done, even if it meant saving their own asses.

"Okay," Miles said. He shot Rachel a look to drop it. "I'll take the next train to Austin and see if I can get them interested. Miles had a bad feeling that selling to what was essentially a foreign nation was going to bite them in the ass later, but he left to catch the train in Lexington the next day all the same. While he was gone, Monroe worked with the horses each several times a day to get them ready to make the trip south. Aaron did his best to help as well, but it still meant that they worked from dawn till dusk without a break.

When Miles returned three weeks later he was not alone. Frank Blanchard and two Rangers accompanied him to look the horses over. Monroe met the newly re-commissioned General on the porch. "Hello Frank," he said.

"Monroe," his guest replied as they shook hands in greeting. "So, Matheson says you've got some prime horse flesh for us to consider."

Monroe was more than confused by the man's presence in Kentucky. "That's right, I do. But why the hell did you come all the way out here just for this?"

Blanchard took off his hat. "On the trip north, Miles may have mentioned that you folks make a bourbon that'll bring a tear to the eye and make a man feel like the blackout never happened. Why don't we have a belt or two before we get down to business?"

"Okay…" Monroe turned, wide eyed and bewildered. Feeling even more nervous, he opened the front door and gestured for the Texans to enter the house. His heart about stopped when he realized that one of the Rangers that had come was none other than Malcom Dove, the very same man that had arrested and held him in Willoughby. He shot Miles an irritated glare.

His friend only shrugged as he followed the Rangers into the house, leaving Monroe to stare after them. With a sigh, he went to follow them. "And here I thought life was getting boring," he muttered as he shut the door behind him.

Drinks in hand they settled down in the living room. "Now that's what I call a damn fine sippin' whiskey," Blanchard said as he swirled the amber liquid in his class.

"Yeah, now about why you're here," Monroe changed the subject back to the matter at hand, still not trusting his motivation.

Blanchard took another drink and then leaned forward on the loveseat. "Well for one, the Rangers are particular over where their animals come from. We don't buy shit without seeing the horses and their stables, and I sincerely doubt you'd spare the expense on sending them to us on a maybe."

"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the interest, but why did Carver send you? Don't you think you're a little high ranking for this type of errand?"

Blanchard held his glass out greedily as Miles reached over to fill it. "Of course I am. Next year is an election year. Carver wanted to get rid of me for a while. He seems to think that I'm a threat to his career." He considered his former foe for a second. "But he'd have sent someone either way. We lost thousands of mounts between both fronts in the war. It'll take us years to replace them all. Carver is interested in working out some deals with a few stud farms. If what you're breeding here is as good as Miles said we might be able to work out a long term arrangement."

They talked for a while about the political climate in Texas. Blanchard explained that Carver had lost any ground he'd gained with Monroe's so-called execution when it because clear that he'd let the Patriots waltz on in and take over Willoughby. After coming out of retirement to fight the patriots, he'd received a lot of support to throw his hat back in the ring for the next election.

To complicate matters further, Donovan was trying to get Carver to work out a treaty between the fledgling new U.S. and Texas, but for reasons unknown the Texas President-General was balking at it. Blanchard had a feeling that this had something to do with Carver's desire to absorb a good chunk of the Plains Nation now that most of the warclans had been eradicated by the Patriots.

Donovan also had an interest in a part of the plains, especially since there'd been signs of unrest in Illinois and Michigan with rumors of potential problems in Indiana and Wisconsin as well. Monroe noted that the former states that Blanchard mentioned were also the ones that were hit the hardest by the Militia during his own reign over the Monroe Republic.

After the bottle they'd opened had finally run dry, Monroe took Blanchard out to see the horses in question. Both the General and Dove were happy with what they saw. After spending time negotiating prices, a deal was finally struck. Within a few days the Rangers had paid in full and left to catch a train back to Lexington to bring their new horses home.

The sale to Texas had lifted the weight of the world off of Monroe's shoulders. They had enough diamonds and gold to pay their taxes and last until the winter wheat and barley were harvested in June and then some. The fact that Texas had been willing to pay an annual retainer for the first crack at any worthy animals in the future gave him the opportunity to discuss the possibility of expanding the stables with Daniel. The old man's take on it was for Monroe to do whatever he'd thought best, but he'd insisted to his mentor that the farm was his, he was just working in his name and that he'd do nothing without his blessing.

Of all the different things they had their hands in on the farm, Monroe really did have a passion for the horses and had a way with them too. Daniel had mentioned more than once that he'd noticed it from the start. Monroe had been dying to expand on what had really started as a hobby. For one, a well bred horse brought in a lot of money, but more than anything Monroe simply enjoyed it. If they increased the size of the stables, he knew that within a few years he could really make something of it. With Daniel's blessing he began to work up plans for a new stable to be built during the slow winter months.

In the meantime, the last of the fall harvest was in and the crops had been stored, sold or donated as needed. The beginning of November had come with a nasty cold snap, but by the middle of the month and the twins' second birthday they had one or two unusually warm days. Monroe decided that after all of the hell he'd put everyone through and the stress they'd all had over their money woes that what everyone needed was a day off.

Since he'd just barely missed Danny and Angie's birthday because of his capture the previous year, he'd declared that everyone, including the Carters and the farmhands were going to have one hell of a party. Priscilla and Rachel got involved and had set up tables for a picnic in the main barnyard. To add to the occasion, Daniel was having a particularly good day as well.

"Priscilla, be a dear and send Aaron up to the attic for me," he'd asked as she pushed his wheelchair outside so he could enjoy the rare warm day. "There's a large trunk up there that I'd like him to bring down." Aaron had done as requested. Setting the trunk down on the porch, he opened it to reveal some old and worn baseball gear. "Back in the day we used to hold a picnic for the entire town every spring. This stuff belonged to my boys. We always kept extra stuff so the hands and neighbors could join in."

It wasn't even a question. With fourteen willing farmhands, Miles, Monroe, Aaron and Brian Greene they had eighteen people, seven gloves (almost enough), a bat and a ball. It was all they needed. As they started to set up, Miles headed back inside. "Hang on a second," he told them. He returned a few minutes later with a cloth bag. He tossed it to Monroe.

"What's this?" he asked as he caught the bag.

Miles just shrugged nonchalantly. "Something I came across in St. Louis when we went back on our way down south from Michigan. I was gonna give it to you on your birthday, but seeing as how you were being a giant fucktard, we didn't exactly throw you a party. After that, I just kinda forgot about it - until now."

Feeling a little guilty at the reminder of his backsliding and problems when he'd returned home, Monroe opened the bag, pulling out a faded hat. Charlie leaned in to see what he was holding. "What is it?" Her curiosity only increased when she saw the smile spread on his face. He turned it around so she could see the entwined letters on the front of the cap. "STL?"

"St. Louis Cardinals," he explained. "They were a baseball team. Growing up in Southern Indiana, you either followed the Cards, the Cubs or the Reds. The latter two were never even an option for anyone in the Monroe household."

Rachel scoffed from where she stood. "That's because you didn't know any better."

"Hey Rachel, What do ball-less bears and the World Series have in common?" he baited. Charlie looked at him like he'd gone crazy while her mother narrowed her eyes in annoyance at him. "No Cubs!" He had to dodge an apple that came flying at him for the remark.

Charlie still didn't get it. Miles tried his best to explain it to her. "The St. Louis Cardinals and the Chicago cubs were huge rivals. When your mom and Ben moved to Chicago, she became a diehard Cubs fan. Nobody knows why, they sucked. At least the Cardinals were good. They won the World Series in 2011. It was the last one before the power went out the next year."

Monroe came up behind Charlie sporting his new hat, backwards of course. Rachel rolled her eyes at him. He nuzzled her neck as he taunted the rest of her family. "Of course your uncle's taste was almost as bad – he always rooted for the Cincinnati Reds." He said with a laugh. "Seriously, thanks Miles."

Charlie looked up at him, smiling. In the world she grew up in hats were worn for protection from the sun. Baseball caps were rarely seen relics, but when they were worn, it was done so the bill shaded the face. "So, um… Why's it backwards?" she asked.

Rachel was only happy to explain. "Your husband is from Indiana which means he doesn't know how to wear a hat properly, because he's a fucking hick."

"The term is Hoosier - not hick, and I'm damn proud of it," he said as he gave Charlie a quick peck before joining a retreating Miles to start up the first pickup baseball game he'd played in almost twenty years.

Charlie watched as they played. Only a handful of them were any good. A few of the farmhands could at least catch the ball, and Miles seemed to be an adequate pitcher. She was surprised when Monroe hit the ball right over the fence into the pasture. "Show off!" Miles snapped. Monroe just laughed as he sent Brodie after it. Of course her husband and uncle had made sure to play on opposite teams and spent the majority of the time baiting one another.

Brodie may have found the ball a lot sooner than any of the men would have, but he was also reluctant to give it up. Mother and daughter watched as Monroe and the twins chased the dog to retrieve it. Danny and Angie were squealing with glee as their father pounced on the happy dog. Charlie locked eyes with him. He smiled at her brightly as he grabbed the dog's collar. "I've never seen him like this," Charlie commented.

He was now doubled over with laughter at the face that Miles had made when Monroe had tossed him the drool covered leather ball. She'd seen him happy before, but it always seemed to be accompanied by an underlying wistfulness that never seemed to leave him. Today, it was like there was nothing hiding behind it.

Rachel laughed at them both. Miles had just hit Monroe in the back of the head with his glove and now the two were wrestling and charging each other in the dried grass. "He was always like this before his family died. When I first met him, I was convinced that he didn't know how to be serious. He was always messing around, one stupid joke or prank after another." Rachel almost seemed like her mind was far away as she spoke of the past. "Miles was always the brooding, moody one and Bass was always the charming and happy-go-lucky one. He was a good man back then, always in a good mood."

She went on to describe how she'd met him when he'd been one of Ben's groomsmen on their wedding day. "The flower girl was my cousin's daughter. She was seven and decided that she had a crush on him. He must have been only a year or two older than you are now. He danced with that little flower girl half the night, even though I'm pretty sure it ruined his chances with my maid of honor later."

"So he was a slut back then too?" Charlie asked with a chuckle, well familiar with her husband's reputation.

Rachel shook her head as she started to set out a stack plates for lunch. "No, that came later. After his family died he started drinking heavier and chasing after anything with boobs and a pulse. Before then he'd loved women, don't get me wrong, but he wasn't what you'd call a womanizer. Not until he lost them. He was still a decent guy, but he wasn't the same. More sarcastic than funny, you know?" She started setting out the platters that Priscilla was handing her as she continued. "God, I remember picking him up from the airport when he came home to bury them – all jetlagged and looking like he was ready to shatter into pieces." She wiped a stray tear that fell as she remembered.

She caught the bewildered look on Charlie's face. "We were really good friends back then. You know, Bass and I have tried very hard to put the past aside for your and Miles' sakes. I don't think I can ever forgive him from Danny, even though I think I already have for the rest – but, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad to get this piece of himself back, even if it's only for a few minutes here and there."

Charlie watched in silence for a while longer as they played. When Connor arrived with is bride to be, he replaced Aaron in the game. Her former teacher and friend came up to stand next to her while he watched them continue playing (thankfully) without him. "You okay, Charlie?"

"I just can't get over how happy he is, how different," she said. "Seeing this, it's like I know everything will be okay now."

After lunch, Priscilla brought out the cake she'd made for the twins, which was later followed by the entire group giving them their undivided attention as they played with the handmade toys they were given, including a pair of rocking horses that one of the farmhands had helped Monroe build for them.

Later that night when they got into bed, Charlie curled up next to him. "Good day today?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, a very good day." He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this okay with the world.

"Guess what?" She waited until she knew she had his attention. "It's only going to get better."

"Oh? How so?" He raised a brow at her.

Charlie leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Monroe abruptly sat up. "Really?" Charlie nodded in response, the smile on her face matching his own. He settled back down on the bed facing her and rested a hand on her belly. "When?"

"End of May, maybe." She offered her mouth to him. His tongue swept lightly over her lips, parting them for him. He went slowly, as if he was afraid she'd break. He slowly explored her body like it was the first time, noticing the subtle differences as his hands skimmed over her – the new fullness in her breasts, the slight rounding of her abdomen. "How did I miss it?"

Charlie arched her back as he nuzzled the valley between her breasts. "For someone that can sense a scout in the woods ten minutes before he finds you, you are remarkably unobservant," she rasped as she let out a surprised moan when he pulled a nipple into his mouth through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She was unprepared for the intensity of the stimulation coming from his attention to her newly sensitive breasts; not used to how the changes in her body would affect their lovemaking.

Raising her nightgown above her waist, Monroe splayed his hands on her belly, placing a tender kiss between them. "God you're beautiful," he whispered with a groan as he slid back up to capture her mouth. He unexpectedly found her new condition arousing. Their tongues still dueling, he slowly slid her panties off and touched her center. The sensation almost made her jump off the bed.

He kicked himself free of his sweatpants and settled between her legs, entering her slowly. Afraid to hurt her, he kept the pace gentle and slow. He'd barely even begun when she was bucking under him, bracing herself for an overwhelming orgasm that seemed to overtake her unexpectedly.

Her satisfaction gave him the green light to seek his own. Charlie urged Monroe on. "You won't hurt me," she said as she bit his earlobe before dragging her mouth to his neck, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth. He increased his pace, carefully bracing himself on his elbows. As he came closer, Charlie felt herself build back up again, but he stiffened and climaxed before she could get there. Sensing her renewed frustration, he slid his hand down between them and stroked her where they were joined until she burst again.

He rolled off of her, panting and hot. Charlie stared at the ceiling dazed. "That was… wow," she breathed.

"Yeah," he said. He rolled onto his side so he could watch her. She was still panting and flushed; he'd never seen her look so perfect: her hair was tousled, eyes half closed and skin glowing. "Another baby…" He trailed off, still awed by the news. This time, he would be there for all of it.

"Told you today was only going to get better."

Monroe stood with Charlie by his side, one hand clasping hers. He held Angie on his other side; Charlie held Danny on hers. Angie was starting to get heavy, but she refused to let anyone else hold her. Miles reached over from where he stood next to Charlie and took Danny from her. Priscilla stood next to Monroe, with Aaron's arm around her as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

Monroe sits with Daniel in his room during lunch. He's made it a habit in the weeks following the twins' birthday. That day was the last time Daniel had been out of this room. Monroe has to help him on occasion. Daniel's hands are no longer coordinated enough to handle the task all the time. He knows that it's demoralizing to the old man. He'd had to deal with it for those first few days after being rescued from Truman's summer camp of horrors, so he knows.

Daniel has been talking about some exploits from his younger years. Suddenly he stops midsentence. He closes his eyes and slumps forward. Monroe tries to rouse him but he does not get a response. He tilts Daniel's head back. He's still breathing, but it is shallow. He races to the kitchen to get help. Gene is staying in town now, so even pushing a horse to its limit, it will be four or five hours before the doctor arrives. In the meantime, Rachel tries to help, but it's obvious to everyone that it will do little good. This day has been coming.

Half the town was gathered with them. One by one, their neighbors began to recount stories of Daniel and the good he'd done for the community over the years. Daniel was not a religious man, so there is no formal service; just those that loved and respected talking and remembering. Angie tightened her arms around her father's neck.

Before long, it became Monroe's turn to speak. He'd known it was expected of him and in some ways he'd been dreading it. "I, um." When he started to falter, Charlie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "When I first came here it wasn't to the warmest of welcomes – not that I could blame anyone for that. And what was funny was I had no memories of the things I'd done to earn it. I knew about them, but they were just stories to me. I wandered from place to place for a while before I got to Providence and everywhere I went, my past almost got me killed more times than I could count.

But Daniel – he took me in; gave me a second chance when nobody else would, even though he knew he was putting himself at risk. He became my friend and mentor and asked for nothing in return other than I work hard and keep my head out of my ass – and not kill his stupid goat." Despite the sadness that permeated the cemetery, a few chuckles erupted.

"And after I got my memories back, he made me accept it when I couldn't bear to. He took my family in when we had no other place to go. He never judged me, even though I deserved it. He treated me like I was one of his own and reminded me of who I used to be before the world fell apart. He trusted me, even though he had no reason to. He made me want to be worthy of that trust, even though I wasn't.

And when the Patriots came and all I wanted to do was stay out of it, he made me face my demons and reminded me that I had people and things in my life worth fighting for. And I'm stronger because of it." Monroe started to choke up. "And I will miss him." Connor put a hand on his shoulder from where he stood behind his father.

Charlie enters the room quietly. Her husband has been sitting in the chair for hours, unmoving. She squeezes his shoulder gently. "Hey Bass. Come to bed. Priscilla will keep an eye on him for a while."

Monroe reaches up and covers her hand with his own. He is exhausted but isn't ready to leave yet. "Okay. Can you just give me a few minutes?"

Charlie hesitates but eventually she leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her. The lamp is burning low, in need of oil. He makes a mental note to fill it for Priscilla before he goes to bed. After a little while longer, he reaches out and holds Daniel's hand. "Daniel? I don't know if you can hear me," he begins softly. "But I – I just wanted to tell you that you've meant so much to me these past two years.

Monroe doesn't even try to fight it. He cries like a boy that is losing his father – because in this moment, that's how he feels. "You were there for me when no one else wanted to be and…" He tries to find the words. "And I am so very grateful for that. I uh… I love you, old man." He may be imagining things, but he's almost positive he feels the slightest pressure from the leathery fingers in his hand, as if Daniel has heard and is responding. Priscilla enters the room just a few moments later. He rises form the chair so she can take his place.

Priscilla is the only other person in their household that knows how acutely he is hurting right now, as she's become very close Daniel in the past several months. Before she sits down, she gives Monroe a hug. Although they'd never been close friends, they are now brother and sister in their grief.

A few hours later Daniel is gone. Priscilla knocks on their door ever so lightly. She opens it, but does not enter. The soft light from the lamp she carries illuminates her form the hallway. The expression on her face tells him what he needs to know. Daniel has gone. He nods in understanding and Priscilla closes the door. He waits until her footsteps retreat before he lets the grief wash over him. Charlie holds on to him as he loses control.

There were too many people that attended Daniel's funeral to have a formal repast. Instead, tables were set up in the center of town. Most of the attending families brought some type of dish so that there would be plenty for all. By the time that they headed home, it was late. Danny and Angie had fallen asleep soon after the wagon started moving.

After putting them down, everyone retreated to their own rooms. Monroe sat on the couch alone with a bottle and a glass. Charlie knew better than to protest. At least he wasn't hiding away like he'd done before. She would give him this one night to make a mess of himself. For the past two days both she and Miles had kept a wary eye on him.

Miles was not entirely sure that he'd make it through this in one piece. He'd seen events like these break Monroe more than once. As he sat on the couch, he loosened the tie around his neck. He'd already ditched the jacket from his borrowed suit. He poured a drink (he'd decided that since he was using a glass instead of just downing the bottle it meant that he wasn't backsliding – like somehow this would make a difference).

Brodie was lying by his feet, keeping a careful watch over his master. Monroe wasn't even halfway through his first glass when he heard the sound of little feet padding down the hallway. Angie peeked around the corner. Seeing her father she ran over to him and climbed onto the couch.

He set the glass down and let her settle herself in her lap. "And why are you up, little princess?" he said as he kissed the top of her curly head.

"Daddy sad," she said as she looked up at him. She jutted a finger at his wet eyes, almost succeeding in poking him in one.

He held her tight as she squirmed in his lap. "Yeah, Daddy's sad, Angie."

With the simple logic that only a two year old could have, she leaned forward and gave him a resounding kiss on the cheek. "All better," she said with a smile as she buried her face in his chest and snuggled close.

The innocence of her small gift made him chuckle. "Thank you," he said to her as he realized that it somehow really had made him feel better. A while later, Charlie woke to find that he'd still not come to bed. She quietly went to find him, knowing that he'd probably passed out or gone into hiding. Instead she found him stretched out on the couch with their daughter, fast asleep. The bottle still sat on the coffee table, having barely been touched. His half full glass was an indication that he was sober.

Charlie went and grabbed an extra blanket. Creeping back to the living room, she covered them up. Yeah, let's not leave this down where the kids can get it, she thought as she picked up the bottle and glass. After disposing of them in the kitchen she went back to bed knowing that Monroe was in very capable little hands.

More A/N: So when I was looking at the geography for a story a while back I found that there really is a Jasper, IN. It's about 3 hours away from St. Louis and Cincinnati respectively. I wanted to do the baseball scene because it's a completely mundane picnic pastime (it was either that or washers – does anyone outside of Missouri play that?), and I wanted to show that even with everything that our characters had been through that every now and then they were capable of doing things that normal people do – and hey, baseball predated electricity, so there's no reason to think that it would disappear completely (and I know people with gloves and balls that are well over twenty years old, so the stuff doesn't exactly go bad).

Because I'm a dork and do a bit more research than necessary for a simple fanfic, I looked up Jasper IN to find out what teams are blacked out there. A customer at my work grew up in Southern Indiana and is a huge Cards fan and has told me before that they have a decent following there, so being from St. Louis (Represent!) I decided that Monroe need to be a cards fan (because, hello they rock!). Anyway, apologies to any Cubs or Reds fans out there. (And that world series joke can be heard in any bar in The Lou in the first few weeks of any season and then doubly when we make the playoffs – albeit it is a lot less politically correct when told here, I toned it down a bit. SORRY!)

And in fact, sorry for this whole chapter really because I know that most of it is just pure feel-good fluffy camp. I hope Daniel's death didn't piss anyone off. His character was fun to write, but I figure that it wasn't much of a shocker because he was very old, and I wanted to show the changes in Monroe from losing his family before vs. losing someone close now.