Monroe woke up later than normal to the sound of someone banging on the door. He sat up and looked down at Charlie's still sleeping form. It took him several moments (and a few more knocks) to come to life enough to get out of bed. After ducking into the small washroom and relieving himself, he stumbled over to the dresser and picked up his pocket watch. "Shit!" he exclaimed. It was past ten and he'd called for a meeting at nine with the Militia's higher counsel. It just now registered that the banging on his door was because he'd slept right through the damn thing.

The last thing he needed was anyone barging in and seeing with whom he'd spent the night. "Hold on a minute!" he called out as he rushed over to the closet and started pulling out a clean uniform.

Charlie picked that moment to sit up, stretching her sore muscles, a smile on her face as she remembered how they'd gotten into that condition. "What time is it?" she yawned.

"Late—it's almost quarter after ten." His voice was muffled as he yanked a shirt down over his head. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started pulling on his pants. "And you have made me miss a meeting," he added as he leaned over to give her a light kiss.

Charlie padded across his bedroom, intent on finding her clothes in the front room. She turned when grabbed her hand to stop her. "What?"

"Someone's been banging on that door for the past ten minutes. It's probably one of Harris' boys on the other side of that door. You can't be seen in here." He finished dressing and then went to go fetch her clothes.

She didn't look very happy when he returned. "While I'd appreciate being dressed before anyone barges in, explain to me exactly why you're that terrified of us getting caught?"

"It's not what you think, Charlie." He sat down to pull on his boots. "It doesn't matter what your title is, you're essentially second in command here. President or not, I can't be caught like this with you."

Charlie knew he was right, but something about the Republic first attitude grated on her. "What are they going to do? Fire you?"

He shot her a heated glance. Finishing up with his boots he stood and went over to her. "I still have to be held accountable. Refusing to answer for my actions got me into a lot of trouble the last time. On top of that, if it gets out that we're sleeping together and something happens to me, the Counsel may very well back Connor instead of you." He brushed her cheek with his thumb tenderly. "That could very well get you killed. I can't risk your safety."

Charlie sighed, nodding her head. Not wanting to ruin the morning after, she stood on her toes and kissed him. Before she knew it, he was backing her up towards the bed, a growl in his throat. The pounding on the door broke them apart. "Go to your meeting," she said, smiling up at him.

He reluctantly left her, throwing open the door. Sure enough, one of Harris' men was there. "Go ahead and tell them I'm on my way," he barked at him, sending the poor kid scurrying off. Am I really that scary? He wondered as he headed down the hall.

He ran into Harris as he worked his way to the other side of the compound. "Private Jacobs sure seemed skittish a few moments ago," his secretary commented as they both headed towards the main wing of the capital.

"You know better than to hire someone that spooks that easy," Monroe said with a shrug.

Harris laughed. "You seem… well rested," the younger man said with a knowing smirk.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Uh huh. Hey when you see Charlie, tell her I rescheduled our meet and greet with Blanchard's man. I went looking for her, but her quarters were empty," he said innocently.

Monroe stopped short. "What were you doing in her quarters?" He couldn't quite help the little spark anger that flared up when he thought of Harris standing in her bedroom.

"Really? That's what you're worried about? Not my type, in case you needed reminding." Harris shook his head at him, clearly amused. "So… you finally got your head out of your ass and went for her."

Both men started walking again. "You know, a friend would know when to keep his mouth shut," Monroe commented lightly. "You know, especially when gossip could cause problems."

"A friend would give me a heads up so I knew ahead of time to cover for him. But, that's neither here nor there," Harris countered. "I'm glad the two of you finally caved. You really do look happier this morning." With that he offered a half-assed salute and went down the left corridor, while Monroe's meeting would take him the opposite direction.

"I am," he called after his secretary. Feeling really good for the first time in a long time, he opened the door into the conference room. "Sorry to keep you waiting, boys. Let's get to work," he said as he walked into the room, offering them all a salute so they could sit down.

Over the next week, Monroe found that he was getting less and less work done. At first he figured it was just because of the newness of it all. For one thing, he'd gone so long without a woman; it was like his libido was making up for lost time. For another, well it was Charlie. Once he'd finally given in, it was like he couldn't get enough of her. He figured after a few days, he'd get it out of his system and things would start getting back to some semblance of normal.

He couldn't deny that he'd slept better in the past seven days than, well probably ever. Harris' couriers seemed a lot less frightened of him, which he hadn't decided was necessarily a good thing, but it was nice to walk into a room without everyone scampering out of his way.

It was not quite noon and he was supposed to be writing a letter to the leader of the largest and loudest faction in Michigan. The man had asked for additional aid in exchange for ceasefire until their grievances could be addressed. Instead of working on that reply he found himself instead nuzzling Charlie's inner thigh as she sat with her shirt and bra pushed up and her pants discarded under his desk. As he closed his eyes and kissed the sensitive skin there, it briefly occurred to him that he might have a serious problem.

Those thoughts flew out of his mind as he lowered his mouth to her, inwardly smiling when she began to gasp and writhe under him. When she couldn't take it any longer, he stood and kicked his chair behind him, sending it flying into the window behind him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he considered himself lucky it didn't break.

Yep, I'm in big trouble, he thought, as he unzipped his pants and let them drop, losing himself in the moment. It didn't take long for her to come apart around him, leaving him free to let himself lose control. "God damn," he growled as he went over the edge and emptied himself deep inside her. The intensity of his release left him feeling drained and dizzy.

Monroe pulled out of her and stumbled back to find his chair, almost falling before he finally got into it. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling while he tried to catch his breath. Charlie fared no better, sprawled out on his desk with a satisfied smile on her face. "Good thing it's almost time for lunch, I'm starving now," he chuckled as he looked her over.

Charlie sat up and looked around the room. At some point he'd sent an inkwell flying and it was on the floor several feet away, having spilt all over the rug. There were papers scattered everywhere, including the long abandoned correspondence. Cocking her head to one side, she twisted to stare at the door that led to the hallway. "Bass? I think someone's coming down the hall," she finally said.

He looked from her to the door and then back again. "Hide," he suggested.

Charlie ran for what was once his sitting room, but was now a small filing room "Shit! My pants," she said with a loud whisper.

He looked down and found them, balling them up and tossing them too her as he rolled his chair forward. They were out of time and he had no time to adjust his own clothing. The footsteps had stopped just outside the door. No sooner did Charlie close the other door than a brief knock was followed by the door opening to reveal one of the maids bringing the aforementioned lunch.

"Sir," she said happily as she headed towards his old rooms. "Oh, I thought Captain Matheson was working through lunch with you today," she added with a frown. She'd brought lunch for two and now she'd have to go make another tray for her.

"Thank you- Mary is it?" he said a little louder than necessary. "The captain will be back shortly. Please leave it on the table in the other room," he added, wincing as he heard the door to his old bedroom close. Fortunately, the young woman didn't seem to notice. Monroe took the opportunity to pull up his pants and zip them, managing to sit back down just before she returned.

"Yes sir. Will there be anything else sir?" She eyed him, as if she was just noting that there was something off.

"No. Thank you," he said dismissing her. When the maid had gone, Monroe got up and went into the next room. Charlie was dressed and already digging into the food that Mary had left. "Planning on sharing that?"

"If you ask nicely."

He took a seat next to her and helped himself. "We've got to start being a little careful."

"You started it," she reminded him. "But, you're right. Harris said that there are already a few members of the counsel that suspect something was going on long before anything actually happened. The last thing you need is their suspicions being confirmed."

"That's the last thing either of us needs. I told you, it's not just about the Republic. It's about keeping a target off your back." They ate in comfortable silence for a while. "You know, maybe you're right about giving the counsel some responsibilities. At least it would keep them too busy to gossip about what I do in my free time—or before lunch."

This had her brightening. He was finally starting to see. "Well it's about time," she said quietly as she reached for the other half of his sandwich.

"Hey, I was going to eat that."

"Next time, eat faster," she shrugged as she took a bite.

He opened his mouth to offer further protest when someone else knocked on the door. With a sigh he got up and sat back down at his desk. "Come!"

The door opened to reveal a messenger, likely one of Harris'. This one barely looked old enough to even be in the militia. He just stood in the doorway looking like he was on the way to his execution.

"Well?" Monroe said, waiting for the kid to do something. "I'm kind of busy, so out with it," he added when the messenger continued to stand there.

"A message just arrived from Major Bradley with the 4th Indy. Connor Bennett has escaped custody in Jasper," he said, quite obviously afraid of how he would react.

Monroe couldn't quite blame him for that. He'd developed quite the reputation for shooting the messenger (figuratively and literally) in Philly. No amount of recent good moods could have completely removed that from the collective conscious of the Militia. If he had to guess, he'd say that this poor kid had drawn the short straw when it came to delivering this message. "How long ago?"

The corporal swallowed nervously. "Three days."

Monroe rubbed his eyes again and leaned his head back on the cushion behind him. What to do? "Dammit," he said under his breath.

"Your orders, sir?" the kid ventured warily.

He stared blankly ahead for several minutes, fighting the urge to go ballistic. It would only serve to scare the poor kid in front of him. "Find him—I don't care what it takes. And when he's in custody I want him brought to Nashville to face charges," he finally ordered. He offered the corporal a salute, dismissing him.

As soon as the door closed behind the messenger, Charlie came out from the next room. "So he's going to make a move now after all these months?" She sank down on in the chair across from his desk.

The mood from before had been effectively ruined. He yanked open his desk drawer and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. With shaking hands he opened the bottle and took a drink directly from it. His head was already beginning to pound as he considered what his son's escape could mean.

For the thousandth time since he'd begun the stupid experiment he called a republic, he found himself regretting ever going down the Mexico. Miles had been right; he should have left well enough alone. Hell, Rachel had been right; it didn't matter where he ended up—Connor was his blood. He had a sneaking suspicion that the militia didn't need to go out looking for his progeny. More than likely the little psycho was headed right for them.

"Bass? Are you okay?" she asked finally.

"I need to go over security protocols," he said quietly. His features looked more drawn than ever. "You should go work on our response to the rebels up north. This will keep me busy the rest of the day."

Charlie looked at him sadly. All it took was something else to happen and the walls had immediately come back up. "You know I'm here when you need me," she said reluctantly and she left him alone.

The implications of what would happen if Connor had somehow found out about Charlie's position suddenly hit him. If his son had found out that Charlie was to succeed him in the event of his untimely end, that meant that she was just as big of a target he. If he somehow had found out that they were sleeping together, it would only be worse. Because there had once been something going on between Charlie and his son, it was possible that Connor would take it personally.

Monroe started to pace the room, images of her being harmed whirling in his mind. He bolted out the door. Finding a guard at the entrance to the residential wing on the bottom floor, he ordered that Harris be sent for immediately. A half hour later the captain appeared in Monroe's office, having been dragged away from a meeting Monroe had pawned off on him.

"I heard," he said grimly as he shut the door behind him. "How do you want to handle it?"

"I want security for Charlie's floor doubled until Connor has been found. She goes nowhere without a detail and I want two guards—people you trust personally stationed outside her quarters at all times, effective yesterday."

The young man resisted the stupid grin that threatened to escape his features. He knew their commander-in-chief had been trying to deny his interest there for months, but the urgency of the command spoke volumes. Whatever was between them, it was definitely more than sex. "You realize this is going to piss her off, right?"

"That's too bad," he snapped, not in the mood for secretary's amusement. "She doesn't have any say in this."

"And your own security? More than likely you'd be his intended target if he tries anything, not her. Or will you be sharing a detail?"

Monroe hesitated. He realized that the need for discretion was stronger now than ever. If Connor really was making a move then it was vital that no one knew about them. On top of that he still hated the idea of having a detail constantly buzzing around him. He knew what they needed to do, as much as he didn't like it. "No, we will not. Assign two men per stairwell between my floor and Charlie's. That's close enough for them to do their job."

"I'll send your orders to Major Levins immediately," Harris said with a nod as he headed out the door to seek out the man charged with overseeing security for the compound.

Over the next several days, they waited for word. It was all they could really do. Charlie had understood his need to keep them apart at night. If Connor was coming, they needed to be careful and guards weren't above gossip. But then he'd backed off completely. To her it was like he was going through the motions and had simply decided to pretend that they hadn't just spent a week practically living in each other's pockets.

She'd finally gotten fed up and had said something to him about it. All he'd said was that they'd made a mistake. She'd walked away hurt and angry. It had also been the last time he'd worked outside his private quarters.

The wound Monroe had been forced to inflict upon her had made him sick to his stomach. The fact was, he couldn't afford to be distracted if he was going to keep her alive. The thought of her being hurt or killed because of their relationship terrified him as much, if not more than the thought of Connor getting his hands on the Republic. He couldn't take that risk, no matter how much it hurt to ruin things between them. He'd rather have her hating him and alive than lying next to him and dead.

A few weeks after news of Connor's escape reached them, Adams sent a report stating that all evidence pointed to Connor having headed northeast. From what they could tell he was fleeing the Republic, most likely to Canada. While the majority of the staff breathed a sigh of relief, Monroe wasn't so sure. "Keep up current levels of security until we have proof," he ordered.

Later that same night, he found himself once again in his cold lonely bed. It had only been a week; seven unbelievably happy days but after years of waiting she'd quickly become a focal point in his life. Now he felt like there was a hole where she was missing. She wasn't even speaking to him now.

He'd asked for her to come to him for something work related twice in the past several days and she'd denied him both times. His greatest fear had come to pass and their taking their relationship forward had ruined everything they'd shared beforehand. He missed her body next to him at night, but he also missed her friendship during the waking hours.

Ever since he'd pushed her away, he found himself staring at the ceiling for hours before falling asleep. This night was no exception. He was finally dozing off when he got the sudden feeling that he wasn't alone. Instinct had him reaching for the gun in his nightstand, but his hand never reached the handle of the drawer. "Don't even think about it," came a gravely whisper. Despite the intruder's attempt to disguise his voice, Monroe knew it anywhere.

"Oh, what the hell?" he practically whined as he reached for the matches he kept by the lamp on the table. He shook his head in disgust at Miles as he turned the wick up, his eyes squinting as the light reached them. "We've already been here and done this. Don't you get bored doing the same things over and over again?"