A/N: Sorry for the long delay in this next chapter. I was stuck at a point in the story where I had to decided where I wanted the story to go. I think I've got it figured out now though, so hopefully there won't be more than a day or two in between chapters. I was also trying to keep chapters a little smaller, but it's not really working out as well as I'd planned. This story is turning out to be more complicated than I'd originally intended it to be.

At any rate, thank you to all of those that have been awesome and offered encouragement , kudos and comments. I hope that everyone considers the long delay worth it in the end.

P.S. Rating will be upped to "M" for the next chapter, so if you don't receive notifications for updates, you'll have to make sure to reset your filters to find future updates after this (and now I've given a spoiler as to the contents of next chapter)…

It had been four months since Charlie had first shown up. Little by little Monroe's days had gotten a little easier, and now he was to the point where he could at least get out of bed and start his day without dreading it. He was still overworked and their efforts may not have been entirely successful yet, but at least he had a glimmer of hope now.

He was convinced that if they just kept it up and handled one thing at a time that something would start to give. Charlie's natural talent for diplomacy and her fresh perspective went a long way towards implementing the ideas he'd already had as well as in helping him come up with new ones. He now knew that he'd the right decision when he'd written to her so rashly.

He was more than prepared to have her presence and position as his successor made public, but she'd been arguing against being named Vice-President of the Monroe Republic outright. "Not yet. I'm still not sure that this will be permanent yet," she'd told him more than once.

"If you're going to have any authority you have to have some kind of title," he remarked as he emerged through the doors separating his office and his quarters, carrying a wrapped bundle. Charlie and Harris were already there waiting on him. "I've had you commissioned as a captain in the Militia."

"You what?" Charlie turned to face him, exasperated.

"It's the way the whole thing is set up; you know that. You have to have a rank, even if you don't actually have soldiers under you. All the leeches do, so you have to have one too or they won't respect you. At the very least, you have to be at or above Harris' rank. I'd have made you a major but I figure you'd have just thrown a bigger fit."

He handed her the bundle then. "I swear you'll only have to wear the uniform for official functions, and even those will only be when it's unavoidable."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, trying her best not to whine in front of Harris. She got it—he needed help and was just desperate enough to send for her as a surrogate Miles. She still didn't understand why he was so insistent that she become president if something happened. She was too young and had no experience with this sort of thing. She was a fighter when she had to be, but to be in charge of the entire Militia was something else.

"I told you—"

"You can't do this alone," she finished for him.

Monroe raised a brow at her as he sat down at his desk. "Have I been sounding just a little too much like a broken record?"

"Maybe just a little, General," she replied with a wicked grin, her tone saccharine sweet.

He offered her an annoyed glare, telling Charlie exactly what he thought of her use of that title before turning to Harris. "Make sure that this is announced to every staff member in the compound?" he said as he held out the latest set of instructions. He waited for the man to leave before he got back down to business with her.

"That announcement outlines for everyone here what your role is. Since you won't let me make you my VP, I had to find something else."

Charlie cocked her head to the side and eyed him suspiciously. "What did you do?"

"I told you, you have to have an official position. I've named you my Chief of Staff."

"Your what?" Having been so young when the power went out, she'd had no idea how the government was run before and was unfamiliar with the title.

"You're the gatekeeper, Charlie. No one gets in without going through you first. In a way, you're in charge of everyone here with an exception for me—in an official capacity. Unofficially, you're job also entails continuing to make sure I don't do anything stupid when no one's looking. You're even above Harris now, so have fun bossing him around."

He was adamant. If she didn't accept, he didn't know what else to do with her. At some point, people were going to start talking and thinking there was something a little more sordid about her presence. The last thing they needed was for everyone to start thinking they were sleeping together and that was how she held sway. It could undermine everything they were working on—that and it would make it all that much harder for him to remember to keep his hands to himself.

Charlie could tell that he wasn't going to let it drop. "Okay," she finally said as she slumped into the chair she usually sat in when they were working together.

Monroe just nodded and picked up a stack of papers. "These are the negotiations with Blanchard for the next shipment of food and another loan. This is your baby now."

"What?" She practically yelled it as she jumped back to her feet. Helping to strategize and hammer out polices was one thing, but taking an active role in getting the Republic further indebted to Texas something else entirely.

"We need more food to get everyone through the rest of winter and we're still broke. Without help from Blanchard we're in serious trouble. I can't feed everyone and on top of that, I can't pay the Militia either. You saw what the result of that was the last time around. It's not like someone can pick up a phone and call me to say there's trouble. If factions start taking matters into their own hands, I won't find out about it for weeks, if not longer." On top of that, they needed those soldiers in place to protect the western border, where clan raids had picked up. They were always higher in the winter.

"But why me?"

"Because while Frank and I may have called a truce, we're not exactly BFF's. That and he's a sucker for pretty girls. You'll get a lot farther with him than I would," he explained.

"You do realize that if Blanchard knows I'm here, so will the rest of Texas," she said meaningfully. "That means my family will find out."

Those words took him by surprise. "You didn't tell them you were coming here?" Monroe hadn't expected her family to approve, but he hadn't even considered the fact that she'd just take off without telling them. He'd assumed all this time that they were quite unhappily aware of where she'd been all this time.

"Of course not. They'd have only followed me. I figured that the last thing you wanted was my mom barging in your front door," Charlie reasoned. "This only works if they don't know—at least until I've decided if I'm staying."

He flopped down in his chair and stared off into space for a few minutes, lost in thought. He couldn't help but be a little offended that she'd want to keep her presence a secret still, despite the fact she'd been helping him since October. She'd agreed to stay because he'd been able to prove to her that he was making a sincere effort here and in four months since, they'd become friends. The more he thought about it, the shittier he thought it was for her try to pretend to the outside world that none of this existed.

"I'm not sure I'm okay with that, Charlie." He pushed away from his desk and started to stand up, hurt and insulted. It was always something; the past was always there to haunt him. Pretty sad to be pushing fifty and one of his only was friends embarrassed to admit the connection to her own family—one that he used to be a part of.

"Monroe—Bass…" she reached out and touched his arm to stop him. "Every time you and Miles get together something happens and you end up on the short end of the stick. I'm just trying to stop that from happening until things get more settled."

She felt a little guilty. She knew him well enough to know exactly what he was thinking and could tell how it offended him. And in some ways, he was right. How could she tell her mom that she'd befriended and was helping the man that they held responsible for Danny's death? Unbeknownst to him, they'd given him a pass on Ben. He'd wanted him brought to Philly alive—he and Miles had once even sent a friendly invitation to the now ruined city.

The past wasn't the only thing giving her pause, however. She was starting to like being here too much. Letting it become public knowledge outside of Nashville would add a certain permanency in her own mind and it would hurt too much to leave if something happened. If her family showed up, it would most likely be to drag her away. On top of that, if it was a secret, she could still live in her happy little delusion that the past didn't matter for just a while longer.

His silence told her exactly how much her reluctance bothered him. "The last thing you need right now is Miles showing up. It could cause problems within the Militia and…"

"And you're worried he'll say or do something and I'll go off the rails," he finished for her, looking away in embarrassment. No one liked having their mental and emotional instability pointed out to them, no matter how true it might be. "I'll inform Blanchard that your involvement is to remain confidential," he added with a resigned sigh.

"Thank you."

"You do realize that you're going to have to go to Austin at some point, right? It's going to be hard to hide your position in the Republic if you're actually going there," he pointed out. Monroe had already taken into consideration that if she left for Texas there was a risk she might not come back. Still, it couldn't be avoided. He couldn't very well leave now and she was the only other person he trusted to get it done.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she murmured thoughtfully before changing the subject and getting back to work.

When Charlie finally reached the point in her negotiations with Blanchard that the trip to Austin was necessary, Monroe should have realized that her keeping her presence a secret was the least of his concerns. It was almost March and still it would be months before they'd see any results from the upcoming planting season. Blanchard was balking a little, concerned that the fledgling new incarnation of the Republic was getting just a bit too far into the red. His work with Florida was at a standstill for the moment and the aid from Texas was all they had to hope for. The coming months would be crucial in gaining self-reliance.

It seemed the second her train pulled away from the station, everything went to hell. Reports came out of Michigan that a rebel faction had decided to re-arm themselves and that Gray had taken it upon himself to strike back. In doing so, the civilian population had suffered heavy casualties—especially among those that had remained law abiding throughout the fighting. Monroe immediately recalled the entire 14th division. Having no other choice, he pulled portions of other divisions to cover the region. General Adams had balked, of course.

His logic was that despite the massacre outside of Detroit, they didn't have enough soldiers to recall Grey. Monroe knew that Adams was right, but couldn't see any other option. They didn't have the diamonds to conscript replacement troops so all he could do was pull from the 11th in Ohio, the 9th in Wisconsin and the 3rd in Nashville.

By the time that Gray had arrived to answer for himself, the entire Republic was on the edge of revolting. They people wanted blood, but Monroe couldn't give it to them. If he started executing officers for behavior that had been allowed once upon a time, the entire Militia would lose their faith in him. That would leave the entire Republic vulnerable. He was damned no matter what he did. Instead, Gray and the officers under him that were involved were instead sent to a work camp. They needed the labor if they were ever going to finish repairing that dam on the Ohio River that threatened to burst at any given moment, and when you were broke there was no labor like free labor.

When all was said and done, Monroe ended up sending the lower level soldiers back into the field, but had split them up. He'd sent them out to replace the troops he'd pulled from Ohio and Wisconsin. He didn't want them close to him so he sent some to Indianapolis and pulled troops from there to replace those stationed in the capitol. The few officers that had actually tried to prevent the bloodshed found themselves suddenly in charge of the new 14th division.

By the time Charlie returned they were just recovering from the effects of the whole mess. She'd been gone a little over a month, and she found him as stressed out and on the edge as he ever was. At least the negotiations had been fairly successful. Blanchard had promised to send the additional aid and she'd even been able to work out better repayment terms.

He'd been working almost nonstop for weeks trying to fix the situation, sending Harris out with missives at all hours, driving both of them to the point of exhaustion. She could see it the second she stepped into his office. It was already almost time for dinner when she'd gotten back and she'd only intended on stopping in for a few minutes to tell him about the negotiations. She almost did a double take when she saw him sitting there. "That's it, get up from that chair. You're taking a break."

"I don't have the time, Charlie," he mumbled as he signed another missive. He began to review what he'd written before sending it on its way. In the past weeks, Harris had been forced to take on three more couriers just to handle the paperwork going from Monroe's desk to various locations in the city and beyond.

"You look like shit. When's the last time you really slept?" she argued as she plucked the pen out of his hand.

He ignored her and made a grab for the pen. He was too tired to chase her around the room for it, so when she jumped back to keep it out of his immediate reach he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, with every indication that he was going to start pouting soon. "Come on Charlie, I can't do this right now. I've got people waiting for orders, so I kind of need to write them."

"The world won't end if they wait until tomorrow. I know you. You probably haven't slept for shit in days and you've probably been drinking your breakfast, lunch and dinner. You're going to eat something and then you're going to take the evening off. I swear I'll have Dr. Barnes drug you if you don't."

"And I'll help her hold you down so he can do it," Harris said as he came into the room. He was beyond exhausted from the constant running. The more Monroe worked, the more he had to as well. "I'll never get a break otherwise."

Monroe offered them both an angry scowl. "You both do realize that I'm kind of your boss, right? Not the other way around?"

Charlie threw her hands up in exasperation. "And do you realize that we're your friends and we're only trying to help you since you're too stubborn and stupid to help yourself?" She reached over and snatched the bottle off the corner of his desk, handing it off to Harris to remove from the room. "I'll think you'll find that Sally has forgotten to send someone to on a whiskey run until you get some rest." She leaned over the desk and arched her brow in challenge.

Monroe was smart enough to know when he'd been outmaneuvered. With a resigned sigh he pushed away from his desk. He got up and headed to his quarters. "I swear I'm charging you both with treason, just as soon as I work up the energy to do it," he grumbled as he walked past them. Satisfied, Charlie went to see about getting him something to eat. By the time Sally had a plate sat up, he could barely keep his eyes open, but Charlie insisted on sitting there until he ate all the same.

"You're going to work yourself to death," she told him as she collected what was left of his dinner and went to set it on his desk, making a note to have a maid come for it later.

She rejoined him in the small sitting room outside of his bedroom. Despite her insistence that he not work, she knew he'd want to know how things went in Austin. He had a glass in his hand when she returned.

"What?" Monroe said innocently enough at the glare she shot him. "I've been a functioning alcoholic for over twenty-five years. You don't think I have it hidden everywhere? I guarantee you that Miles have bottles all over the place too—he'd have to, considering he lives with your mother." It was no secret that Rachel disapproved of Miles' tendency to overindulge. Monroe always figured that it reminded her too much of who Miles used to drink with—namely, him.

"If you keep it up, you're going to drink yourself to death way before the work and the stress do it," she snapped.

"And there'd be much rejoicing," he commented as got up to refill his glass and bring her one as well. She was, after all a Matheson. He wondered if she ever realized that Ben had always shared his brother's love of whiskey—albeit with a lot more discretion.

"Why do you always do that?" Charlie asked as she took the offered drink.

He settled back into his chair. "Do what?"

"You know exactly what. Whenever any of us show any concern for your sorry ass, you completely deflect it."

Monroe only shrugged. "Because you shouldn't care. I don't deserve it and you'll only regret it later. For the most part, everyone else who ever gave a shit has." Uncomfortable, he got up and went to retreat, obviously dismissing her.

She followed him and stopped him in the doorway, her hand on his shoulder. Unable to help himself, he turned to face her. "Well that's too damn bad, because I do care."

He didn't know why but those words seemed to lash at him more than any insult could have. Her proclamation had a lump forming in his throat. Before he even realized what he was doing, Monroe reached out and brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. Instead of pulling back, she only seemed to lean in closer. He opened his mouth to say something, but for the life of him couldn't think of a single word to say.

"You look like you're ready to drop right here," she murmured. "Promise me you'll at least try to sleep?" When he nodded his reply she stood on her toes and pressed her lips gently to his. It was just for a half a second and was as chaste of a kiss as it could be, but it was still a kiss none the less. "Good night then, Bass."

"Charlie," he called after her as she started to walk away. She didn't turn back around, but stopped. "Thank you… for caring."

He stood in the doorway and watched her retreat; his hands clenched to stop him from doing something stupid. A few minutes later he managed to crawl into bed without further incident or another drink. Before giving in to sleep, his hand came up to his lips. What the hell did she do that for?