A/N: Initially there was this chapter and then the epilogue, but then I had a little plot bunny run through the garden that was this chapter, and all hell broke loose. The dialog wasn't flowing well, and I felt that it was too much at once (and as it is, it's already pretty long) and that it needed to be broken up a bit.

Initially, I'd wanted to post this chapter and the next, but it still needs a bit of tweaking and I've been busy with life so I haven't gotten to it. To be honest, I wasn't going to post this right away, but I snuck out for a girl's night and the vodka is making me publish…

If I'm lucky, the last chapter and epilogue will be up by the end of the weekend, if not, please don't hate me. As it was, if I don't post this now, lord knows when it'll happen. Thanks again to everyone that's stuck with this story despite the lengthy breaks and broken promises. (P.S. please excuse any errors I didn't catch because… Vodka…)

The smile on Miles' face broadened when he saw who he was looking for. Monroe let his gaze travel in the direction Miles was looking. It took him a second to see who they'd come to meet, but suddenly there she was; Charlie stepped off the train holding Bethany.

"Charlie?" he looked from Miles to Charlie and back again. "What the hell is going on?"

Before anyone could answer, a porter came up behind them. "Miss Matheson?" when she acknowledged that he'd found the right person, he looked at his clipboard. "Your baggage is being loaded into the wagon, as you've requested. If you will please provide me with the address, I can have it delivered for you."

In a daze, Monroe answered the man's question when Charlie indicated that her baggage was being delivered to his house. The porter wrote it down and then disappeared. "Excuse me, what's being delivered?"

Charlie reached up and patted his cheek. "Our stuff. Bethany needs more than a pack and play, don't you think?"

"Wait, what?" Monroe stammered. "You're—you're moving here?"

"Wow, you're slow, Bass," Miles answered for her.

He turned to face her idiot of an uncle. "So all of this today..?"

"—was to make sure you were here—on time, when she got off that train," he replied, his grin widening, so much was he enjoying watching a baffled Bass finally start to get it.

If it wasn't for the fact that she was here and obviously intent on staying, Monroe very well could have hit him right then and there. "You could have just asked me to be here!"

Miles shrugged. "What's the fun in that? Besides it would have spoiled the surprise."

Monroe felt he had two options at the moment—he could turn into an emotional wreck in the middle of the train station for the entire world to see or he could get really pissed off at Miles. He quickly decided on option two. "You've been practically torturing me all day!" he shouted. "Was that really necessary?"

The reaction sent Miles into a fit of laughter. "Oh, that was just for me. Rachel doesn't let me get out much."

"I can see why," he muttered as he turned back to Charlie. "You're really here? You're really staying this time?"

"Yeah, and I'm starving. Let's go home?" she affirmed as she handed Bethany off to Monroe. Linking her arm with her uncle's, she let him lead her from the platform.

Monroe watched them disappear into the station house, laughing like idiots as they went. Bethany cooed at him and reached up to tug on his ear. He looked down at her and caught her happy smile. "Don't look at me, I have no idea what just happened here," he told her before finally moving to catch up.

The wagon beat them home, so they were met with a pile of furniture and bags in the front yard. Charlie took the baby inside to feed and change while Monroe and Miles were left to bring everything inside. Halfway through, Chuck came home from work and helped them.

Within a few hours, Bethany had her own room set up and ready to go. Taking pity on Monroe and the way his life had gotten flipped around overnight, Jackie sent her oldest son over with a loaf of fresh bread and a casserole for them. Before Miles had a chance to raid the kitchen, Monroe pushed him towards the door. "Not that I don't appreciate it and all, but I've had just about enough brotherly love as I can take for one day. Go away."

He shoved Miles out on the porch and locked the door behind him. Miles laughed until something dawned on him. "Damn, my shit's still inside." He was getting ready to knock when the door opened again and he was hit in the face with his jacket and backpack. Moments later he was locked out once more, and he could have sworn he heard the dog flop down in front of it as an added layer of defense.

With an amused shake of the head, he put his jacket on, grabbed his gear and started off down the road towards the closest inn. When he'd arrived the night before, he'd still had his reservations about Charlie's plans, and so he'd gone out of his way to do everything he could to force a knee-jerk reaction from her chosen jerk. He'd pulled off all the stops in trying to get Monroe to explode.

He had to hand it to him; his brother had handled it surprisingly well. Instead of following him to that last class, he'd cut him a break and had done a bit of snooping instead. He'd talked to the man's colleagues and even tracked down some of the students he'd noticed in Monroe's classes throughout the day.

He'd learned quickly that Monroe had settled into this next phase of his life in a way that he hadn't expected. Most of the other professors had gotten over his identity. The dean hadn't received any complaints either. Most of the student body saw him as being a bit tough but fair. At times he was even accused of being slightly reserved—not a word he'd ever consider when trying to define Monroe, by any means.

From what he'd been told, he let just enough humor show through so that his students and colleagues alike knew he couldn't possibly be a complete stiff. Sure, they'd still been a little terrified of him (which hopefully would be resolved sooner, thanks to the impromptu "history" lesson), but they'd all respected him.

He kept his classes casual, never graded on a curve and took the occasional shots that were still sent his way because of the past in stride. Laughing off insult was never something he'd been good at before, but he seemed to have learned a bit of humility along the way, or at the very least some self-control.

Miles now had every confidence that he didn't have to intervene and that the couple would be okay. Now, all he had to do was convince Rachel and Gene of it. He'd still stick around for a few days, just in case, but he knew he'd overstayed his welcome and they needed time alone—they had a lot they needed to talk about before they could really begin their life together.

After dinner, Charlie had disappeared with Bethany while Monroe cleaned up the kitchen. He was just drying the last few dishes when she appeared in the doorway. "Bethany's all ready for bed. Would you mind putting her down while I unpack?" she asked. "We can talk after she's down."

Monroe was surprised at the request. Charlie had been doing everything all this time and he'd never really had any one on one time with his daughter. "Yeah, I can do it," he murmured as he dried his hands.

Charlie handed the child off and then headed towards what would now be their bedroom. "Her book is on the rocking chair. After her story, I always rock her until she gets sleepy, but put her down before she falls asleep," she said over her shoulder before disappearing.

He was nervous as hell. He'd stared down Iraqi insurgents, other militias, rebels, Miles and the Patriots, but here he was, scared to death of an eleven month old girl—his girl. He found the book and sat down in the rocking chair with his daughter. The Pokey Little Puppy. The old Golden Book had seen much better days, but it still had all of its pages. He remembered reading the same book to his youngest sister years ago when he'd been forced to babysit as a teenager.

Taking a deep breath, he dug his reading glasses out of his pocket and got started. While he read, he was unaware of the audience that watched from just outside of the room. Charlie watched them together and couldn't help but feel just a little jealous. In Willoughby, Bethany never sat still when her mother or grandfather tried to do the honors. Monroe was still practically a stranger to the girl, but she'd taken to him and all of these changes beautifully.

Confident that he could handle the bedtime ritual, Charlie went back to work. She had a lot to do before the end of the night and wanted to get it done quickly so that they could really talk. Coming here and moving them in with Monroe was a big risk and she still had some reservations. There were a lot of 'what ifs' hanging in the balance and the past few weeks had been nerve wracking as she'd rushed to get everything done so she could get them here.

The story done and Bethany getting drowsy, Monroe was still reluctant to put her in her crib. He still couldn't quite believe that this was really happening. Now that it was, he was absolutely terrified. Yes, he wanted them here. He wanted it so badly that he didn't know how to process the day's events. He didn't understand why she'd suddenly decided not only to let him in Bethany's life, but into hers as well.

He eventually quit stalling and laid his daughter in her crib, handing her the teddy bear that he'd sent for Christmas and covering her with the old baby blanket that Charlie had draped over the side of the crib. He watched her for several more minutes, backing away when Bethany rolled over on her side, the small stuffed bear tucked under her arm.

Monroe knew Charlie was waiting for him in their room. Our room… It was still a foreign concept to him. He hadn't been a part of an "our" or "us" in so long that he wasn't sure he even knew what to do. And so, feeling like an intruder in his own home, he stood in the doorway and watched Charlie as she shoved a stack of jeans in one of the drawers.

When he'd woken up this morning, he'd been alone and single—well alone except for one very annoying childhood friend. Now, he was a part of something. Or, at least he would be. For now, he just needed to get through the talk he knew had to happen and yet dreaded all the same.

He wasn't an idiot. They needed to talk about Nashville and the way he'd treated her and the person he'd become. Needing to do something didn't make it easy, however. It didn't take a genius to see that he was a wreck most of the time; he knew it and didn't bother trying to pretend otherwise. The difference was that he didn't actually discuss it ever—not to Miles, not to anyone.

Monroe knew the moment Charlie realized he was there. She almost dropped the shirt she was hanging up. She paused and looked up at him. "Did you get her down okay?" she asked.

Monroe offered her a weak smile. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt almost dizzy. "Uh, yeah," he replied. For lack of something else to do, he went over to the bed and started picking through the piles of clothes she'd sorted. He grabbed one of the hangers she'd dumped on the bed next to her shirts and got to work.

"Good," Charlie remarked as she grabbed a pile of folded undergarments and turned to stuff them in the top drawer.

Monroe kept his eyes on the task in front of him, silently reprimanding himself for spending too much time picturing her in said undergarments. They continued in without speaking for quite some time, until the bed was finally cleared and everything was put away. Being Charlie and practical to a fault, she didn't have any random odds and ends to unpack. Most of what she'd brought for herself was clothes and a few toiletries.

For Bethany, there were a few boxes of toys—some lovingly handmade and some hand-me-downs from the pre-blackout world. She'd painstakingly made some decorations for Bethany's nursery in Willoughby. Those would need to be unpacked as well, but otherwise she was already done invading his house.

Now with nothing between them to act as a distraction, Charlie and Monroe just stood there with eyes locked. With so much to say, they were both at a loss about where to start. She was afraid that if she pushed, he'd just push back—he was terrified that if he said the wrong thing, she'd change her mind.

Monroe took the first step. He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. He didn't speak. He just rested his chin lightly atop her head and locked his arms around her. Charlie had no choice but to rest her head against him, her palms flat on his chest. She didn't doubt that if she pushed him away, he'd release her—not that she had any inclination to.

When she realized that he wasn't going to do more than just stand there and hold her, she finally broke the silence. "Let's talk about Nashville."

He'd walked into the room with every intention of laying himself bare and just getting it over with, but when actually confronted with doing so, Monroe simply chickened out. He knew he had problems; Charlie knew it and so did Miles (and anyone else that spent any real amount of time with him, for that matter). The idea of discussing those issues was mortifying and he didn't know if he had it in him to do so.

"It's been a long day for both of us—longer for me; you sicked Miles on me, remember? Can't we do this tomorrow?"

Charlie straightened her arms, effectively pushing herself right out of his embrace. "We have to talk about it, Bass. This isn't unconditional."

Defeated, Monroe went over to the bed and sank down on the end of it, his elbows resting on his knees and head bowed. "I know, and we will. It's just… you showed up and then disappeared again; and then you were back and after that night I thought…" He trailed off and tried to collect his thoughts. He wasn't trying to make an accusation, but she'd been playing fast and loose with his emotions since she first knocked on his door in November. "… then you were gone, but now you're back—I don't know which way is up with you and this is a lot to take in."

Charlie was caught off guard by his outburst. "I—I thought you'd be happy we're here," she stammered.

He softened at this display of insecurity from her. Charlie was the most confident person he knew and to see her unsure now reminded him how important this decision was to her. "Of course I am. I'm just overwhelmed right now. After Nashville, I thought I'd never see you again and it took months, but I finally came to terms with that. Then, I found out about Bethany and everything changed. The only thing I've ever done that was harder than knocking on that door was walking away again."

Monroe waited for Charlie to join him on the bed before continuing. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why you changed your mind. Why are you here?"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, which was balled up into a fist in a vain attempt to keep his hands to himself. Forcing him to relax, she entwined her fingers with his. "You loved us enough to walk away, right? Well, we love you enough to follow you and give you a chance."

Monroe lost the internal struggle and pulled Charlie to him. As his mouth met hers, he reached up with his free hand and pulled the ribbon that held her hair captive, sending it cascading down. She'd never said those words to him before now. Not that he held it against her—he'd never said them until after it had been too late.

He had forgotten the power that those three simple words could have; it had been over fifteen years since anyone had uttered them to him. Shelly had been the last, in fact. To hear them now struck him straight through the middle and somehow made the darkness that he always carried within him seem to fade just a little.

"Tell me again," he practically begged against her lips.

Charlie broke away and looked into his eyes. They were intense; wild and desperate. "I love you."

Monroe's eyes fluttered shut and he let those words wash over him. When he opened them again, Charlie was watching him expectantly. His hands moved to cup her face as if they had minds of their own. "God, I love you so much," he told her as he kissed her again.

Things heated up and both forgot all about talking things out. Monroe pulled off his shirt and immediately went to undo the buttons of the soft flannel she wore. With fingers trembling in anticipation, he skimmed her collar bone with his fingertips before slipping her shirt off of her shoulders.

Charlie's bra soon found its way to the floor; shoes were kicked off and pants undone and shed. Charlie crawled into his lap, straddling him and sinking down to take him inside her. He cupped her bottom with one hand, helping to lift her. His other made its way to the middle of her back, settling there and pushing her towards him. He kissed her neck and then toyed with her earlobe, teeth lightly nipping.

Charlie gasped at the sensation, shivers going up and down her spine, the pressure in her belly increasing until it became unbearable. She was so close; the fullness within and friction without overwhelmed her. When his tongue found one taught nipple and began to slowly swirl around it, she lost it completely and came apart.

The feel of her contracting around him and the sound of her moans in his hear took Monroe the rest of the way. Both hands lifted her, slamming her back down on his length as he thrust his hips upward to meet her each time. "I'm gonna come," he warned her.

Charlie kissed him, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. "So come," she replied.

Somehow, knocking her up her first day back did not seem like a wise decision. "Too soon," he groaned, the sound of his voice strangled as he started to go over. He lifted her up at the last second, barely pulling out in time. "Fuck, Charlie," he moaned as he spilled between them.

Sated and now tired, Monroe flopped backwards, taking her with him. They stayed that way for quite some time; Charlie sprawled over him, his legs hanging off the end of the bed. As far as he was concerned, he was content to spend the rest of the night that way.

Unfortunately, Bethany wasn't having it and began to fuss in the next room. Charlie got up and used his shirt to wipe her belly clean of his seed, tossing it at him with a smirk as she went for the robe she'd hung up in his closet an hour before.

While she checked on their daughter, Monroe reluctantly got up and locked up the house and turned all the lamps down. By the time he got back into their room, Charlie was just yanking an old (and very large) t shirt over her head. She crawled into bed, clad only in that shirt and panties. Taking the hint, he found a pair of sweatpants and yanked them on before joining her. He hadn't considered that parenthood meant no more sleeping naked.

Charlie let Monroe pull her close and wrap himself around her. She snuggled in comfortable and warm. It really had been an exhausting day for the both of them. Still, there was something that bothered her. "Why did you stop?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

His beard scratched her skin as he kissed her shoulder. "I've had the both of you here for about five hours. Let me get used to having our little family before we try to enlarge it."

Satisfied with his answer, Charlie closed her eyes and sighed in contentment, ready to go to sleep—until more niggling thoughts began to bounce around in her mind. She knew he was dozing off; the rise and fall of his chest against her back was slowly evening out. "Are you asleep?" she asked.

"So close," he said, a tired whine in his voice.

"We can figure out the rest tomorrow, but I need to know… I don't understand how we can share this and you not think it was real for me."

Any hopes of putting it off for a day or two had been crushed. Monroe pushed himself up on one elbow and leaned over Charlie, waiting for her to roll over to face him. "I didn't—not really. When I calmed down, I realized what I'd done. It didn't even take very long. You probably weren't even to your room before I snapped out of it."

"Then why, Bass?"

"Because you're not the first person that I've accused of something when I knew better," he admitted. He then told her the fate of one of the last friends he had in Philadelphia and how in a moment of insanity and paranoia he'd ordered the execution of Jeremy Baker. It was one of the darkest secrets he still held and the confession did not come easily for him. "Of course I knew you wouldn't do that to me, but when I saw how easily my mind went there, I knew I had to get you out of there and away from me. You weren't safe there any more, Charlie. Neither were Miles and your mom. It didn't really matter—you were leaving anyway, remember?"

"You had us dragged out of the country under armed guard like we were criminals," Charlie sniffed. Her eyes welled up as she thought back to the way that day had felt.

"No, I had you escorted to the train station by a friend before I could hurt you worse. You've gotta understand. When Shawn told me you were leaving, I wanted to stop you, but I knew I couldn't. If you'd have stayed, I eventually would have done something I couldn't come back from." He stopped and wiped her tears away, ignoring the fact that his own were forming. "I went about it the wrong way, but it was the right thing to do. That and yeah, I convinced myself it would hurt less to force you to go than to let you be the one doing the leaving."

Charlie didn't exactly know how to respond to that, so she settled back down next to him. When he slumped back on the pillow, she curled into him, laying her head on his chest. As he absently stroked her arm with his thumb, Monroe continued to speak, the words just coming out, regardless of how little he wanted to talk about it. "It's funny. A year ago I was sitting in Blanchard's office, begging him to take my country away from me and all I could think was how I should have written to him in the first place. It would have saved everyone a hell of a lot of trouble."

"We almost had it. If you'd have just let Miles and I help you, we might still be in Nashville right now," Charlie insisted. A part of her was still angry that he'd basically fired her, and not just because of their personal relationship. She'd worked her ass off to help him and despite her reluctance to admit that she wanted to stay on permanently, she'd really never wanted to leave. Once she'd gotten involved, she'd started to believe in it. It was insulting that he'd given up on her so easily. "All of that hard work, all gone to waste."

"I never should have been there in the first place. I should have just gone back to Willoughby with all of you after the war. I sure as hell didn't ever really want another republic." Monroe betrayed his bitterness over his decision.

"I thought you did it for Connor."

He scoffed at the idea of that now. "Deep down, I knew what he really was. It was my own pride more than anything that got me into that mess. It always is. No, I did it because no one thought I could or should."

Charlie arched her neck to look up at him. "Since when did you ever care what anyone thought of you?"

"Easy for you to say. You're the one that has everyone you meet tripping all over themselves to be near you."

Charlie rolled her eyes at that description. "Now that's just ridiculous."

"And yet it's still true. You got Miles to come out of hiding, made Aaron grow a couple, got that Neville kid to turn his back on his own family and made me, of all people, want to do the right thing—and you weren't even trying with us. Imagine what you could do if you actually put an effort into it.

"Me? Well, it's not easy being the guy everyone hates to love and loves to hate. You have no idea what it's like to have everyone around you see nothing more than a monster—and an incompetent one at that."

"That's not how we see you," Charlie snapped. "And I wish you'd stop that."

Monroe sighed, and slid her off of him. The proximity and weight of the day was making him say things he'd never intended to say aloud, at least not that night. "There's a reason Miles believed Connor without even questioning it. I mean, the guy's known me my whole life, but he believes a little thug he's known for a year?"

"And he feels like shit for it, and you know it. If he had to do it all over again, you know Miles would have come to Nashville to talk to you." She now lay rigid in the bed.

"It doesn't matter now. It's over." When he saw how tense he was, Monroe forced himself to relax. "Let's just go to sleep. I don't want to have a fight over how stupid and crazy I got, not tonight."

Charlie let the subject drop. She knew if she kept it up and insisted in taking the discussion further, he'd just shut down at any rate. He was already trying to. The days to come would be soon enough to try and figure the rest out. "I wasn't trying to pick one. I'm sorry."

He kissed her temple and shifted to get comfortable, resuming his early position. He pulled her tightly to him, her back resting against his chest. "I am happy you're here. No matter what, remember that." That was the last thing he said before they finally fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes again, Monroe realized that it was well into the day. A glance out the window showed that the sun was high, indicating it was almost lunch time. She'd just let him sleep all damn day (not that he hadn't needed it). He looked around, brows furrowed when no signs of life were in the house. Worried, he poked his head outside. The day was already proving to be warmer than it had been in weeks and Miles was sitting on his front porch steps, holding his great-niece.

Bethany was giggling as she yanked on his eyebrows and Miles was whining good naturedly about it. Charlie was chatting with Jackie while her two youngest (and only two that were not in school) ran around the front yard squealing with glee and Lump was sprawled just to the right of the door.

"Bout time you woke up," Miles quipped as Monroe snagged his daughter, lifting her high above his head. The baby giggled in delight at her father's antics, settling comfortably in his arms as he joined Charlie in the yard. He greeted Jackie and paused to give Charlie a quick peck.

Both women quickly explained to him that Jackie had come over to introduce herself now that Charlie had time to settle in. Knowing that he was running on empty from the previous day, Charlie had decided to keep to the outdoors so they didn't wake him. "Jackie was just telling me that she and Chuck were planning on cooking out, since the weather's so nice," she told him.

She didn't really see the excitement of it. If anything cooking on an open flame was a necessary evil to traveling, not a recreational pastime, but for city dwellers that rarely left Austin now, their neighbors considered it entertainment. "What do you think?"

"That good barbecue is becoming a lost art, so we should practice it whenever we can and pass it on to our children," `he grinned. "And that I wish we had beer. Barbecues were always better with beer."

"I second that!" Miles shouted from his vantage point.

"Well I guess that's decided then," Charlie mused as she took Bethany back from her man and headed inside to leave Miles and Monroe to start planning the evening meal and to get the afternoon one started. She still didn't get it, but then again she found a lot of the sentiments of people who'd grown up before the blackout to be odd at times.

As she made lunch and watched them out the window, she decided that she'd made the right decision. Granted, things weren't all resolved, but he'd at least gotten talking a little. After spending the morning getting to know the woman next door, she knew she'd eventually have a confidant as she adjusted to life here, and Miles had seemed to think that things would work out. That left her feeling optimistic at least.