A/N: The long awaited confrontation between father and son…

"Leave us," Monroe commanded the guards that kept constant watch over the bank vault that had been converted into a jail cell for his son. If he'd learned anything from his capture in Texas, it was that banks made the perfect place to house the most dangerous of criminals.

The head guard fought the urge to protest. If only for the safety of their leader, he didn't want to leave, but the look on Monroe's face told him that any argument would not be taken lightly. Instead, he opened the vault and ordered his men to wait outside after making sure that his prisoner was securely chained to the wall.

Monroe stepped inside the vault. His son sat on the cot that had been brought in for his use, staring blankly ahead. "You've certainly made a mess of things."

Connor refused to acknowledge his presence. This was the first time that Monroe had seen him since the night of the attack. All things considered, his progeny didn't look all that worse for wear. When the young man didn't answer, Monroe got as close as he could while still remaining out of reach. "Did you really think you'd get away with it? That you could bring me down?"

His son responded by laughing. "I already did," he said as a smile spread across his face. "Look at you—if anything I'd say that everything has right according to plan."

"Says the guy that's just been convicted of treason," Monroe said as he leaned up against the wall, trying his best to feign a casualness that he didn't feel. "How was that a part of the plan?"

Connor finally looked at him. "You're still living under the assumption that taking over the Republic was the point of it all. Don't get me wrong, had I actually been able to pull off killing you—and I almost did, I'd have taken it gladly. That was just plan B."

"Is that so? Well, in that case, enlighten me," Monroe said with a sweep of his hand.

Connor stood up then and shuffled forward as far as his chains would allow. "You're so stupid. This had nothing to do with the Republic and everything to do with you. Why else do you think I got Miles involved?"

"How else were you going to get out of Jasper and get into the compound?"

"Really?" Connor's smile got only bigger. "Please, I didn't need Miles. By the time I escaped, I had every soldier in Jasper convinced I was a model prisoner. And I had Levins, remember? He could have gotten me in without anyone the wiser. I got Miles involved because I knew it would wreck you—and I was right."

Monroe took an involuntary step back. "Why— so all of this was just to fuck with my head?"

Connor tapped a finger on his nose, the chains rattling as he moved. "Why else?"

"So that's why you went after her? Hurt Charlie to hurt me?"

"Hurt her? Oh, I really was going to kill her. I was going to take her away from you and watch you cry over her body. That's the only part of this that didn't work out."

"I thought you used to care about her," Monroe felt the bile rise to his throat and had to swallow it back down.

"You what?" Connor doubled over with laughter. "The only reason I ever went there in the first place was so that you wouldn't. I saw those sad puppy dog looks you gave her when no one was looking."

Monroe's jaw dropped and it took him several minutes to wrap his brain around what he'd just been told. "How could you do that? I loved her."

"She was a distraction. You dragged me from my home with a promise of a nation. Your feelings for her would have just gotten in the way; the Mathesons would have just talked you out of it, so I fucked her so you wouldn't."

Connor actually had to pause to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes. "I guess it didn't work. As I said that night, you apparently have no problem with sloppy seconds."

Monroe retreated again, not stopping until his back was against the wall once more. The cold mask of indifference he'd worn when first coming into the vault had crumbled to pieces. "And the article?"

"Read something you didn't like?" He almost giggled in satisfaction. "I might have made friends with that grunt from the Austin Times that came to town before you had me banished to Jasper. He got the scoop of the century weeks before the attack. Granted, that Bonnie Webster bitch is pretty much on the up and up. She'll figure it out soon enough that he and I wrote history before it happened; eventually she'll write a retraction and blah, blah blah. Not that it'll matter much. By the looks of you, the damage is already done."

For the first time, Monroe saw the full extent of the darkness inside his son. At first, he'd thought him to be a violent and power hungry thug, sick in his inherited obsession for control. This was something else entirely. It was as if the kid was pure evil. "I'm your father. All I ever wanted was to make up for not being there; to protect you. What have I ever done to make you hate me this much?"

"You existed. You ruined my life just by breathing. If it hadn't been for you, I'd have never been sent to Mexico. If it wasn't for you, my mom would still be alive." He spat at his father's feet in disgust. "You took everything from me, and then you had to show up in Puesta del Sol and do it all over again. I was happy; I'd have had the entire cartel under me in just a few years."

Monroe shook his head. His eyes stung, but for the moment, he didn't care. "No, Connor. Nunez never would have let you take over; he'd have eventually killed you. I just wanted to get you out of there before he had the chance. I'm so sorry I ever promised this to you—it wasn't right and I should have left well enough alone. I see that now."

"No, you should have bowed out and given me what you promised. At least then I could have stomached the sight of you. God, you're so pathetic. You just wanted to protect me? I didn't need your protection. I didn't need you. I already had a father and you made me betray him. If I had to do it all over again, I'd have just kept whipping you until you bled to death.

"But, seeing as how I can't go back in time, well this was the next best thing. When Blanchard's rivals approached me, I was only too happy to comply."

"What?"

Connor grinned again. "You know Dad, rumor has it that you've been driving yourself insane trying to figure all of this out. There was a conspiracy, but not where you think. Maybe you should talk to your little buddy in Austin."

Monroe was unable to move. Frozen to that spot, he was mind whirled around his son's vile words and what he was insinuating about Texas. He shut his eyes and tried to pull himself together. Out of self-preservation he conjured up the stony façade he'd worn for so many years. It was all he had left.

Once he composed himself, his eyes popped open and he stared his son down. "Connor Bennett, you've been found guilty of treason and attempted murder. You will die for your crimes; the Tribunal has already decided on the sentence and I will not interfere on your behalf. You may share my blood, but you are not my son—not anymore."

With that he turned and left the vault. He nodded to the guards that stood outside the bank with his security detail. With his men surrounding him, he walked across town, back to the compound, ignoring the occasional greeting he received from the people he ruled over. Although he had not often left the compound since setting up the capital here, most of the denizens of Nashville had always seemed happy to see him when he did. Now, they seemed scared.

Monroe tracked down his secretary, handing him the signed warrant. "Get this to the Tribunal. I want this over with by this time tomorrow."

Late that night, Harris found him standing on the balcony on the second floor of the wing he once shared with Charlie. "You okay?"

Monroe took a drink from the bottle he held loosely in his fingers. He shook his head sadly, his cheeks wet and shining in the light from the torches he insisted stay lit on the balcony now that they knew it was indeed possible to scale it. "I signed the warrant," was all he said. "I just sentenced my own kid to death."

"I heard," Harris replied, feeling bad for him. He watched as Monroe dug something out of his pocket. It was a letter from Frank Blanchard. The first one had apparently taken its time on the way from Austin. The second one had arrived shortly thereafter.

"Congress has voted. I've got until year's end to make good on the debt we owe. If I don't, they'll consider it a deliberate default. It could lead to war."

Harris' heart sank. "Let me send for Charlie. She'll have almost made it home by now. You need her here. She can help you figure out a way to pay Texas; we can find a way to make this right together."

"It's over, Shawn. There's no way to do it, and even if she was willing to help still—which I doubt, I can't face her. Not after what Connor told me today." Monroe repeated the gist of his conversation with his son. "I played right into his hands. I let my own son destroy anything good I had left in me. He didn't do this to take over; he just did it because he hated me. He won after all—I'm the fucking monster she used to accuse me of being and everything's falling apart."

"You're not a monster. And we can still fix this." Harris argued.

"No, Miles was right—I'm too far gone now. That's why Connor got what he wanted; I made it too easy for him." He continued to nurse his bottle and look out into the darkness over the city. "I'd like to be alone now," he said quietly, sending his last friend away so he could grieve in peace.