A/N: Well, I'd hoped to have this up a week ago, but the dialog just wasn't flowing well and I swear every time I sat down to work on it another distraction popped up (and the hubby seems to have an uncanny ability to transform into a chatterbox only when I write).

I'm still not sure I'm 100% happy with it, but if I don't post it now, it will never get up, so here we go. This was much longer than I'd intended (my initial goal was to keep all chapters between 1500 and 2000 words, but that doesn't seem to be working out).

Thanks again to everyone that has left feedback for this story so far!

We've already been here and done this. Don't you get bored doing the same things over and over again?

Monroe just sat there, tangled in his sheets and waited for Miles to say or do something—anything. It felt like they were frozen in time—he just sitting there and staring, heartbroken that it had come to this once more; Miles just standing there his eyes cold and the tightly coiled rage emanating off of him.

Miles took a step forward further into the room. "You know what they say, Bass. Learn from history or you're doomed to repeat it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he ask as he got out of bed, his wary gaze never leaving the man that he'd once thought he could count on no matter what.

"That's close enough," Miles said, ignoring the question for the time being.

"Relax. I'm just getting dressed. I'm not going to stand here buck ass naked while you decide if you're going to shoot me or not." With one last sidelong glance, he reached for the dresser drawer. Miles moved quickly and got there first, effectively stopping him.

"I will shoot you," he said through clenched teeth. He hadn't expected him to be so Bass-like. This wasn't like before at all. The last time he'd been visibly nuts. It was like he'd either learned how to control himself a little better, or he'd just gotten better at hiding it.

With a sad shake of his head, he yanked the dresser open and pulled out his old pair of jeans. They'd have to do for now. They were the only thing he kept in that particular drawer, and being on the bottom it didn't have a weapon. The last thing he wanted was to go for some boxers and Miles mistake it as an attempt to pull a fast one. He'd only shoot first and ask questions later.

He started to yank them on, never taking his eyes off of his former friend. "So are you at least going to tell me why this time?" he asked as he zipped them up.

"You have the balls to kidnap my niece, but not the brains to figure out that's why I'm pissed?" He jabbed the barrel of the gun into his back and forced him through the study and into the front sitting room. "Light the lamp," he instructed as soon as they'd cleared the doorway.

Monroe went to the end table and did as he was told. As he did, his mind began to whirl. Miles had obviously found out about Charlie, but how? It was sickening that the man automatically assumed that the only reason she could possibly be here was by force. It spoke volumes about Miles' opinion of him. What it didn't tell him was how he'd found out.

If he'd found out from Blanchard or anyone else in Austin then he'd have known she'd been in Texas. There's no way he could make that accusation if that were the case. The only other way he could have found out was from Connor. That meant that either his son had either gone to Texas or Miles had been involved in his escape. He didn't believe for a second that his presence in Nashville, after all those months of begging for him to come was a coincidence now. It was just too perfectly timed.

"You've got it all wrong about Charlie, Miles. She's here of her own free will. I-"

"Shut up and take a seat," Miles ordered. He waited for Monroe to sink down onto the sofa and then sat down on an armchair on the other side of the coffee table.

"Listen, I don't know where you're getting your information, but you're wrong. I can take you to her, she'll tell you herself."

Miles laughed. "He thought you'd say something like that." He paused to lean forward in his chair. "You can give her any official title you want. You've done that to prisoners before just to justify their presence. Why would she be any different?"

"Because I'm different," Monroe said with no little indigence. He jumped to his feet. "You have some nerve coming here and presuming to know anything about me or her, or about the Republic."

Miles gestured with the gun for him to sit back down. He waited for compliance before he responded. "Really? I think your own son would have a good idea what's going on. And, from what I've heard this new Republic is shaping up to be no better than the last."

"We've had some problems, sure. There's been a food shortage and people get hungry and they get angry. For the most part, the problems have been isolated to the lakes, but-"

"And the best way to deal with that is shoot up a village?" Miles arched a brow, daring him to deny it.

Monroe flinched. "I didn't order it. I ordered Gray to stand down, but he went on the attack anyway. He's been tried and punished for it, along with everyone else involved. I've been negotiating with the rebels, Charlie's been helping me. If you'd just get your head out of your ass and listen…"

Miles just sneered at him. "You know what? I don't care, Bass. Shoot up towns, kill your people, starve them, or whatever it is you're doing. All I want is Charlie back. If she's unharmed, I'll let you live long enough to try and protect your demented little throne from your kid."

So he is here… He let the mask fall into place. Even if he had nothing left, he still had pride. He couldn't let Miles know how much that stung. He got up and headed over to the liquor cabinet. "I need a drink," he grumbled as he opened it up and started to rifle through it. "Well that answers one question. I should have known it was you. Kid's not smart enough to plan an escape and over his tracks."

"Well, it's a hell of a lot easier finding a prisoner when you have someone that knows where to look," he acknowledged. "As soon as I hear the signal that they've got her-"

"You sent Connor to find her?" he asked, his heart leaping into his chest. "Miles, do whatever you want to me, but you can't let him anywhere near her." His hand closed on what he was looking for. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Bass?"

Monroe knew it was now or never, so he took his chance. He abruptly turned, raising his arm as he did so. The gun he held was already loaded and ready. "We can sit here and go back and forth about this until one of us pulls the trigger, or we can get to her before Connor does. If he finds her, he'll kill her."

"And why would he do that, Bass? Why kill her when he's the one that told me she was here in the first place?"

Monroe locked eyes with him and silently pleaded that Miles would believe him. "Because she's next in line for the presidency if something happens to me. If he wants a legitimate claim, he's got to take us both out. It's the only way he'll get his hands on it without a civil war."

Miles searched his face for some indication that he was telling the truth. As much as he didn't trust Monroe—not after he came back east to reform the Republic, still he couldn't risk Charlie's life. He sat there in indecision for several minutes.

"Miles, I could have just pulled the trigger. I'm asking you to trust me, for her sake. Connor fed you a bunch of bullshit. I'd never hurt her. Deep down, you've got to know that." He added. "I know you think I'm the one that's lost it, and maybe over the past few weeks I've done a lot of backsliding, but Connor makes me look like Mother Theresa."

With a sigh, he stood up, finally taking his gun off of his prisoner. "God, I hate you."

"Well, at least some things ever change." Knowing they were very likely running out of time, he didn't bother to grab anything else. His only concern was getting downstairs as soon as possible. They raced down the hall and into the stairwell. "Where's the guards?" he asked as they headed down together.

"There weren't any when I came up."

Monroe didn't bother to mention that when he'd come up, he'd essentially just passed Charlie's room. He'd figure it out soon enough, and later he'd laugh at the irony of it. In the hallway by the door to her office, the two guards that Harris had personally vetted and assigned to her detail were dead on the floor. One had been stabbed and the other looked like his neck wasn't positioned naturally.

After spending on a few brief seconds describing the layout of her quarters, he slowly opened the door. It only opened halfway, having been stopped by some unseen obstruction. Going first, Monroe slid through the opening and looked down to see what was blocking the door. His mouth formed a grim line when he saw Rachel sprawled on the floor behind it.

As Miles entered behind him, Monroe squatted down and searched for her pulse. Finding one, he stood and nodded briefly, indicating to Miles that for the time being at least she was still alive. The door leading from her office her personal rooms was ajar and they could hear a struggle inside.

Forcing his worry for her and his rage for the entire circumstance deep inside, he led the way. "You bitch!" could be heard as they approached cautiously. Monroe peered around the corner into her bedroom to see Connor and Charlie locked in a struggle. He punched her hard in the stomach, causing her to double over. Another slap sent the small knife she held scattering to the floor, it's blade red. The way he moved his arm when he reached out to grab her neck suggested she'd gotten in a decent hit.

Connor slammed her into the wall, his hand squeezing her throat and pinning her there, his other hand blocking her paltry attempts to free herself. When she continued to struggle she began to claw at his hand, desperate for air.

"Let her go," Monroe growled as he put his gun to the back of his son's head. It was all he could do to focus on saving her and not on the fact that if he pulled the trigger he'd be guilty of murdering the last blood he had on this world.

"Hi, Dad," he said with a laugh. The name sounded twisted coming from him now. "We both know you're not going to shoot me."

"Maybe he won't, but I will," Miles added as he entered right behind him. "Let her go and I might not kill you for using me to get to Charlie."

Connor weighed his options. He just needed to buy a few minutes. "So you really thought you could have her take my place? You've really got it bad for her, don't you- picking a piece of ass over your own son. It's sick."

Monroe swallowed nervously. He really didn't want to pull the trigger but he knew he didn't have a whole lot of options. "It had nothing to do with Charlie, and everything to do with that shit you pulled in St. Louis. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut and learn how to take care of it, but you had to play the badass."

"Maybe if you hadn't been such a bleeding heart with all your 'doing things the right way' crap I wouldn't have had to take matters into my own hands," he sneered as he increased the pressure on her windpipe.

"This was never about power Connor. It was about fixing things, you knew that. I told you that back in New Vegas."

"You said a lot of things in New Vegas. Too bad you didn't have the decency to let me kill you then," he said with a smile. He watched the hurt in Charlie's eyes, the way she ached for his father made this all too perfect. He'd been told they were sleeping together, but the fact that they cared for one another would only make the victory that much sweeter. "So tell me, how was it? Banging my leftovers? I guess you really have a thing for sloppy seconds, huh? First my mom, now Charlie. Oh that's right… Rachel was in there somewhere too, wasn't she?"

Monroe had heard enough. "Watch your mouth," he said as he made a decision and hit Connor on the back of the head with the handle of his gun. He may not have it in him to pull the trigger, but he had no qualms against knocking the hell out his kid. A second blow sent Connor to the floor. He stepped over him to get to Charlie. The second she'd been free she'd slid down the wall, coughing and gasping for air.

He helped her up, his brows furrowed with concern. "You okay?" he asked as he brushed his thumb lightly over her cheekbone. She winced; the skin would be bruised soon enough. Unable to speak yet, she grabbed his forearm and squeezed it to reassure him. He saw the way her tank top was torn, the shoulder strap having been ripped. The material had fallen away and the top of one breast was almost visible. He gathered the pieces and tied them together to cover her.

"Bass…" she rasped his name as he cupped her face. She could tell he had something he wanted to say, but he suddenly pulled himself out of the moment.

Miles had already pulled Connor to his feet and had his gun on him. "As touching as this is, we've gotta go. Connor had a handful of guards helping him," he said. "And we are totally going to have a conversation about all the touching later."

Monroe snapped back to attention and helped her across the room. When they came across Rachel, he took over moving Connor along so Miles could pick her up. "My office is next door. I've got some spare clothes and weapons—"He didn't even get the sentence out before they were met with half a dozen guns.

He stared coldly at the men that had just a few hours before been stationed for his own protection in the stairwells, or so he'd thought. Miles was forced away from Rachel and they were backed into the far wall. "Stand down, or I'll shoot him, and then you're totally fucked," Monroe finally said, having been smart enough to drag Connor there with them. "Hard to pull a coup without a leader, don't you think?"

"It's over, Dad. You won't shoot me and neither one of you will risk Charlie. Drop your weapons or they'll open fire." Connor said as a smile spread across his face. "You should have listened to Miles and gotten out while you could."

"You ungrateful little bastard," Monroe said under his breath as put the safety on his gun and tossed it to the ground. He gave Miles a meaningful look and waited for him to do the same before taking off his sword belt.

"Maybe, but I'm a smart little bastard, now aren't I. Smarter than you at least." With a nod of his head they were shoved out the door and down the hallway. "Somebody, do something with that," he added, pointing to Rachel.

Hands behind their heads, they were brought downstairs and out of the north wing of the residential half of the compound. They were met at the bottom of the main staircase by Major Levins and a dozen more men. "Report," Connor barked at him.

"Sir, anyone on duty that was unwilling to accept the change in command was eliminated. Twelve down, no casualties of our own," he said as he saluted the man he'd chosen to back.

"And the others?"

"Out of the way for now. There were rumors of an attack on the Texas Embassy on the other side of the city. That should keep them busy for a few more hours, until we have the compound secure. We're working on the eastern wing, but we should have the rest well in hand."

Monroe turned around and lunged at the man. "You son of a bitch!" he shouted as he went for his throat. He was rewarded for the attack with the butt of a rifle to the back, which knocked him off balance enough for Levins to get out of reach.

"Who is that?" Miles whispered to Charlie as they watched Connor's men try to subdue him.

She leaned close so they wouldn't be overheard. "He was our head of security. I wonder how Connor got to him."

"I swear to God you'd better shoot me now because when I get out of this, I'll make sure you hang," Monroe spat as he strained against the two men holding his arms. He stopped struggling and glared at them, clearly done after having made his point.

"Empty threats will get you nowhere," Connor said with a bored roll of his eyes as he turned back to Levins. "Any problems?"

"Some of the household staff have proven less than cooperative. They've been confined to quarters, of course. Most of them will accept the changes eventually, and the ones that don't can always be dealt with."

With a nod, Connor kept walking towards the corridor that led to the other side of the compound, where most of the Republic's offices were located. Levins kept pace with him while the guards brought Charlie, Miles and Monroe in the rear. "And the secretary?"

"He wasn't in his quarters. If rumors are correct, he's probably entertaining one of his, you know…" he let the insinuation hang out there, amused at his own cunning.

"Since my father has managed to stay alive this long, I suppose we'll just use him as a hostage until we're secure," he said.

Before they could move any further the doors to the corridor burst open. Harris stood there with a handful of men, a sword and gun in hand. Monroe almost did a double take when he saw the young man standing there in his pajamas, having clearly been dragged from his bed. Without a word, Harris aimed and fired, taking Levins down.

As soon as the chaos began, Monroe head butted the man that held him. He started to go down, giving him an opportunity to dive for his rifle. They struggled over it for a moment, but despite the guard's youth, Monroe still outweighed him by a good thirty pounds and had experience on his side. With the barrel pressed to his opponent's chin, he pressed on the man's finger, pulling the trigger. With a blood spattered face, he pulled the weapon free and immediately turned to fire on another guard.

He then tossed the rifle to Charlie and grabbed the second guard's sidearm and sword. More comfortable with this second set of weapons, he went to work. Miles had already gotten his hand on a blade and soon all hell broke loose.

"Good to see you finally dragged yourself out of bed and decided to show up," he said to Harris as he turned to block a blow from another guard.

"Next time, give me a heads up that someone's going to storm the castle and I'll set my alarm," Harris took down one and started slashing at the next. Out of nowhere several more guards joined the fray in Connor's defense.

"Dammit," Monroe grumbled as he dodged a swing and countered with one of his own. "This is getting annoying," he said as he took aim with the pistol, hitting his opponent in the head before moving on to the next.

"Oh good, reinforcements" Harris said with a smile as several more guards and three women spilled into the hallway. His housekeeper Sally led two of her girls into the fray with all the bravery of any soldier he'd ever commanded. All three were armed with rifles; Sally and the older of the two maids were dressed in their nightgowns. The third, however was dressed like she'd just walked the corner for a few hours.

"Is that Mary?" Monroe asked, noticing the young woman. She quite obviously was out doing something that wasn't befitting of someone in his employ when the attack began.

She blushed and then fired her weapon, her eyes wide as the guard that had rushed her fell to the ground. "I'm sorry General. I can explain," she stammered. She knew she'd be reprimanded for breaking the code of conduct she'd agreed to when she'd signed on to work in the compound.

"Don't be too hard on her," Harris said as he continued to fight. "If she hadn't been out and about, we wouldn't have gotten the warning. She saw someone scaling the back balcony when she was sneaking back in and came and got me."

Monroe glared at Miles. At least he knew how he'd gotten in. That certain someone shrugged as he prepared to swing his sword, only to find his opponent fall when Charlie's gun went off. They were fighting off the last few when Harris turned to face Connor.

Both young men went round a few times before Connor stuck, coming at him with a high swing. Harris blocked and countered. His son was completely unaware that none of his men still stood as he continued to go on the offensive.

"He's not half bad," Miles commented as he now leaned up against the wall next to where Sally and her girls stood.

Monroe let out a half-hearted chuckle. "He ought to be good, I trained him."

Moments later, Connor's sword was sent to the ground. Before he could pull his gun out, He found himself surrounded by Mathesons and his own father. "Now, it's over." Monroe said. "Lock him up, and for fuck's sake, this time keep him locked up," he ordered the four men that had come with Harris. He waited for them to drag is son off before turning to Harris.

"Flannel jammies Shawn? Where did you even get those." he said as if it was the strangest thing in the world.

"What? At least I own pajamas… Sir."

"Touché. What's our status?"

"They tried to take the other side of the compound but we fought them off. I've sent two more squads in through the back to clear out this side. Seven casualties on the other side, not telling on this one." Harris explained.

"And why are we using maids for backup?"

"Those sons of bitches tried to hurt my girls, that's why," Sally interjected.

Miles squinted at her. "Is that Sally Reynolds?" She was quite a bit older, but he remembered her working in Independence Hall briefly.

"It's Sally Barker now, if you don't mind. And shame on you, Miles Matheson for sneaking that spoiled brat in here," she snapped at him.

Charlie made a mental note to ask how Miles knew the housekeeper. Instead she went up to Monroe. "You're bleeding," she said as she touched his bicep lightly. A long slash went down it where he hadn't moved quick enough to avoid a knife.

"It's just a scratch," he insisted. He pulled her hair aside and inspected the finger shaped bruises on her neck. "I'm so sorry. I should have just gotten you out of the city when word came that he'd escaped." Now was neither the time nor the place, so he hoped that she'd understand what the past two hours had done to him.

"I wouldn't have gone," she said quietly. Not without you, she added in her head.

He shook his head at her. Always has to be so damned stubborn. "I should have at least tried." When Miles cleared his throat uncomfortably he took a step back. "Harris, Rachel Matheson is in Charlie's office and is in need of medical attention. As soon as we're sure the building is clear, send someone for a doctor."

"And the other intruder, sir?" Harris asked, sending a cold glare towards Miles.

Monroe hadn't yet thought about what to do with him yet. Technically Miles was still a ranking general in the Militia so what he'd done was essentially treason. Both men knew that Monroe would never have him charged with it, but the threat may be useful in the days to come.

"Harris, meet Miles Matheson. He's a drunk, a dick and has a habit of trying to kill me in my sleep. Miles, meet Captain Shawn Harris. Shawn is disgustingly efficient, loyal to a fault and as you've seen, a quick study at sword play. He also cheats at cards." He waited for the two men to acknowledge one another and the introduction, ignoring Harris' griping about the cards comment. "Now that you've both been properly introduced, escort Miles to one of the guest suites as soon as you hear back from your men. Make sure it's a decent one, he's going to be seeing a lot of it over the next few days."

With that, he turned and walked up the stairs. "Where are you going?" Charlie said, putting herself in his path.

"To get a shirt and a drink," he said as he side stepped her and continued on his way.

She couldn't believe him. "The building isn't secure yet!" she called after him.

"Don't care," he snapped, disappearing from sight—and he truly didn't.

She glared at two of the guards. "Well don't just stand there, go after him."

"Yes ma'am," they said in unison before running after him to catch up.