A/N: This is the second of two chapters published at once, so if this is the first one you went to, you missed one. Just a heads up! Thanks again for previous comments and thoughts and for sticking with me and being patient.

Saturday night…

Charlie approached the address Chuck had written down for her warily. He'd been reluctant to let her come here alone, but she would not be deterred. She was a big girl and knew how to handle herself. Of course, she wasn't a total idiot. She'd gone over to Shawn's that morning to enlist his aid in dragging Monroe home, but the landlady had told her he'd already left town again Friday morning.

The night before she'd learned a few things about both her neighbor and her partner that she'd hadn't known before and she was still a little disturbed by it. Chuck had reluctantly told her about his own past. Before moving to Austin with his wife and children, he'd been the son of a particularly brutal Warlord in Nebraska. As heir apparent to the clan, he'd spent his formative years going on raids and as he grew older had become quite adept at killing just for the sake of it.

And then, when he was twenty years old, he'd met Jackie. In the end, he'd betrayed his clan for her and for the unborn child they'd accidently made together. Because of the reputation that followed him and the bounty his father had put on his head for turning traitor, they'd eventually made their way to Austin. They'd changed their last names from Donnelly to Coyle and had left the plains behind them completely.

As it happened, his younger brother had uncovered their whereabouts during the war. The clan had wintered over closer to the border. Because of the Patriots' onslaught on all of the clans, they'd lost their former lands in Nebraska and were now nomadic. Johnathon Donnelly had managed to slip away for a few days to "hunt". Instead, he'd met up with Chuck in a less than desirable part of town.

Charlie had heard that the once blue collar suburb on the western edge of town was seedy at best and downright criminal at its worst, but she'd never actually been there. She'd had no reason to seek the entertainments to be had there. It was there that Chuck had met his brother, and there that he'd accidently run into Monroe.

Her neighbors had explained that up until that night, they knew that he'd ducked out every now and then, but hadn't known where he'd gone. Once every month or two, he'd just ask them to take care of the dog for a few days. Of course, Chuck had confronted Monroe about his presence in the red-light district.

It had been just after the holidays and he'd been devastated when Charlie hadn't sent word or offered to let him see Bethany during that time. He'd told Chuck he'd just needed to blow off some steam. He didn't mention his previous visits here, but his friend had put two and two together. It was obvious that this was where Monroe disappeared to when he "left town".

The neighborhood was the worst kept secret in Austin. For the most part, the local authorities left them alone as long as the people there kept themselves and their activities out of the rest of the city. Every so often there'd be a particularly nasty murder and then they'd swoop in and crack down for a while. When that happened, it almost always involved someone from the "right side of the tracks" that had been slumming. The people that actually lived there were deemed insignificant and therefore were left largely alone to police themselves.

Chuck had insisted on her waiting a day to see if he'd come back on his own. By the time he'd finished telling her his tale and giving her directions, it was almost dawn and he'd reasoned that more than likely Monroe had found someplace to sleep it off by then. She'd reluctantly agreed and had spent the day exhausted and worried, only getting a short nap in while Bethany took hers.

On her guard, Charlie entered the bar Chuck had seen Monroe in. The second the door closed behind her, she could feel every lecherous eye in the place landing on her. Knowing she was being sized up, she waited until someone got a bit to forward with the placement of their hands. With a smirk, she drew her gun out of the back of her jeans and held it to the guy's head. "I'm not looking for a date," she said coolly.

The bar grew silent and time seemed to stretch on. A few minutes later, Mr. Hands started to laugh. "Fair enough," he said as he raised his roaming digits in surrender and backed away.

The rest of the room went back to business as usual within seconds. Charlie knew she'd be left alone now. There was always someone out there that couldn't resist a challenge, but most would consider her to be more trouble than she was worth. There were much easier conquests roaming around.

She went up to the bar and ordered a drink. After a while, the bartender came to check on her. She still had seen no sign of Monroe. She'd get nowhere like this. "Hey, where would I go if I was looking for some action? Nothing too crazy, just looking to make a few bets—boxing, cards or whatever."

She paid for her whiskey while the bartender considered her. "They run a few fights next door but it's kind of exclusive. If the price is right, I could get you in maybe."

Charlie was well aware that he'd not exactly been referring to monetary payment. Arching a brow in challenge, she slapped a few diamonds on the bar and waited for him to consider her offer. The bartender scooped them up and looked them over, making sure they were real. "Done," he said as he pocketed her payment and turned to get one of the waitresses to watch the bar for him.

Ten minutes later, Charlie found herself in the neighboring establishment. From the outside, it looked like just another slum, but it was a least a small measure nicer than the bar she'd just left. There were already two men squaring off in a roped off area in the center of the room, neither of which was hers. She looked around nonchalantly, but she didn't see him hanging outside of the fight ring either.

She ordered a drink and leaned casually at the bar and tried to blend in. Experience having made her wiser, she didn't actually drink the whiskey, just held it. Some of the patrons in this place reminded her of those assholes in Pottsboro and she wasn't taking any chances. When no one was looking, she dumped her glass into some poor drunk's empty one and then innocently ordered another.

After a while she was almost ready to move on and start looking for him at some of the other places in the neighborhood when she happened to overhear two women talking. They were obviously whores, and seemed comfortable with their surroundings. If Charlie had to hazard a guess, she'd say they worked for the club's patron.

"Crash and burn?" The brunette asked the redhead as they sat down a few stools down away Charlie. "You'd better watch it, offering freebies like that. Tony's warned you 'bout it twice now."

"Not like he took me up on it anyway. Who'd have thought it? Jimmy King finally found himself a girl. What's the world coming to?"

The brunette sighed. "It's always the lookers. I wonder if he fell in with a working girl. You know, like Cinderella?" She cackled at her own joke, pausing to light a hand-rolled cigarette before ordering another drink from the bar. "You know if he's fighting again? Might as well get another look at that ass. I need a good mental image—the prospects tonight are a little… ick."

The other girl just rolled her eyes at her friend. "Yeah, well I wouldn't hold your breath. Tony'd be stupid to let him go back in. He might be good for fucking, but not fighting—trust me, he's spent."

Charlie knew they had to be talking about Monroe. Jimmy King? It couldn't be a coincidence. So, at least she knew he wasn't getting laid while he was on this increasingly disturbing hiatus. That meant that she only had to kick his ass, not kill him—that is if he was even in any condition for that. The whore's words had her worried more than ever.

Before long, the current match had ended and a new one was set up to begin. Monroe came out of the back, shirtless and looking like hell. He was already sporting some cuts and bruises on his face and ribcage. The bartender announced the fight—Jimmy King and some guy simply known as Burley. The cheers the latter received suggested he was a regular around here and favored to win.

Charlie had almost found the fact that he was using his old alias laughable. Anyone that had survived the Patriot purge that had been in New Vegas when they'd gone on their second trip to the settlement would know who Jimmy King really was. From what she'd happened to overhear, there were quite a few refugees from that den of iniquity that had landed on their feet here. Then again, there were probably very few people that could make the connection that would ever cross paths with him when he went back home.

Someone banged on a large old gong that was hanging from the ceiling near the bar and the match began. She could tell immediately by the way that he moved that Monroe was on his last legs. His stance was unsteady and he didn't move as quickly as he should have. She'd seen him fight a lot better in much shittier circumstances, by far.

"Didn't you get a bet in on time?" A voice from behind her had Charlie turning away from the fight for just a second. The man that had taken the place of the now missing drunk appeared just a bit cleaner than the rest of the men in the bar. Something about the way he carried himself told Charlie that he wasn't a threat—and that he just might be worth talking to.

"Huh?" She asked, confused.

"You don't seem too excited over the fight. Just figured it was 'cause you didn't have anything riding on it," he said with a shrug.

Charlie hadn't realized that she was the only one in the bar that didn't obviously work there that wasn't cheering for one fighter or the other. In short, she stuck out like a sore thumb. "I like to scope out a few fights before I throw down," she said, playing it off. She immediately pegged him as being someone important—he was too urbane in comparison to the others. "What's with this King guy? Looks kind of beat up," Charlie added.

"Oh you mean Jimmy? Comes in every now and again—not really a regular like the other guys." He nodded in Monroe's direction as he casually leaned on the bar. "It's too bad. He's got what it takes to make some serious dough."

"Really? Cause he's about to get his ass kicked," Charlie said, trying her best to sound impartial about the whole thing. In reality, her heart was pounding in her chest. Monroe really was taking quite the beating and it made her feel sick to see it.

"Yeah, he's in a weird mood tonight. Usually goes a few rounds, ties one on and then takes the money and runs. This time, he says wants to fight 'til he drops." He turned to the bartender and signaled for two shots. He waited for the man to comply and then handed one to her. "Doesn't come around very often, but when he does, he's usually something to see. Shoulda seen him last night, he was on it then. This? Well, it's his eighth fight since yesterday."

Charlie had to hold her breath to keep the panic at bay. Eight in two days? He was going to get himself killed if he didn't stop. Just then, Burley got a few more good hits in and Monroe went down hard. Two men dragged him out of the makeshift ring and towards the back of the establishment. "Where they taking him?" she asked, trying to play it off as just mild curiosity.

"They'll take him round back to wake him up. He's done. Don't worry about him—got a thick ass skull. If he's got a brain left in it, he'll pay his tab and get the hell out of here."

Charlie made small talk with her new "friend" for a while, sharing another drink and just making conversation. Eventually, she asked him how he knew everyone so well. "I own the joint," he said as he offered his hand. "Tony Frey."

Charlie accepted his handshake, introducing herself as Sally Barker. In her mind, she offered a silent apology to the sweet housekeeper that had worked so hard to keep Monroe's house in order in Nashville. The last thing she wanted was someone repeating her name and Monroe finding out. He might bolt before she had a chance to confront him—that is, if he was even awake yet.

"So, wanna get out of here?" Tony asked as he very plainly checked her out. He obviously liked what he saw.

Charlie offered him an apologetic smile. She didn't want to offend him—he was the best chance she had of getting to Monroe before he did something else stupid. She decided to let him down the easiest way possible. "Sorry, Tony. I don't swing your way. Now that redhead over there…" She trailed off, nonchalantly nodding her head towards one of the whores she'd eavesdropped on earlier.

Tony laughed knowingly, obviously not put off by her denial. "I'll send her over—she kind of works for me," he offered.

"Actually, I was hoping you could introduce me with that Jimmy King guy when he comes to. I've got a business proposition for him," Charlie countered, digging her hand into her pocket and revealing a few more diamonds. "I need something taken care of, and he looks like he just might be the type of guy I'm looking for."