Charlie surveyed the gathering men, more than doubled in size now, with a true feeling of dread gathering in the pit of her stomach. Duncan's war clan, signed up to follow Monroe all the way to hell. This was getting out of hand, and would be impossible to stop if something wasn't done, she thought, trudging after the guard who was gently pulling the rope tying her hands, keeping his distance. She followed him down to the nearby lake, and watched him impassively as he untied her hands. She blinked down at them.

"Erm.. personal time…" the man muttered, his face reddening as he backed away, already watching her carefully. It seemed she had developed quite the reputation among the men, and especially since Duncan's men had arrived, and told everyone stories of their New Vegas adventures. If the war clan was surprised to see her tied up, they hadn't shown it.

"And, what's to stop me from running away?" she asked, already starting to scan the surrounding terrain.

"Me… I'm on watch" Connor's voice made her tense. She turned around to see him settling on a log, a shotgun balanced across his knees. Of course, Monroe's revenge for her little game. He hadn't been around since he'd almost killed the water guy, she had thought maybe she'd pushed him too far this time. Well, any guilty thoughts she'd had quickly disappeared as she crossed her arms over her chest, revelling in the feeling of having her hands free for the first time in days.

"Oh really… and you think just because we've slept together… I'm going to strip off in front of you" she said, scouring him with her eyes. Connor smirked.

"Well, it's nothing I haven't seen before, right?" he said, and Charlie bit her lip to stop herself from lashing out.

"True" she said, her eyes widening with faux revelation. She slid her jacket off, and then untied her boots. She didn't really want to take them off, but, there wasn't really another choice. She saw Connor cheeks start to redden as her hands moved to the hem of her shirt, and with a fluid motion, she pulled it up and over her head. Connor sat up straighter, his eyes locked on her, and she almost felt bad for a moment. Next she turned toward the lake, and started forward over the sandy shore.

"You're going to wash in your jeans?" he asked, and she stopped, hearing him stand up behind her, still too close. She sighed internally, and lowered her hands to her waistband, unbuttoning the stiff material and sliding them down. She cast them aside, and started tentatively forward, waiting to see if he'd stop her again. The water was cool, wonderfully cool and she closed her eyes a moment as she dipped her feet in, then walked in a couple of feet.

"That's enough, stay right there" Connor warned, his voice a little strained now. She turned to him, swishing her feet back and forward and forced a teasing smile.

"So, your dad gave you prisoner watch? Moving up in the world…" she cajoled him, distracted him, she hoped as she subtly moved further out. He was standing now, the gun in his hands.

"Look, whatever weird thing you've got going on between you two, leave me out of it… ok" Connor muttered scanning the leafy edge of the large lake. Charlie bit down a smile, he seemed unsure whether he was protecting her or watching her. She risked a larger step back, and found the water suddenly coming up to her waist.

"Don't go any deeper Charlie, I mean it" Connor said, suddenly focused on her, coming down to the waters edge as she started to swim backwards.

"Charlie! Stop… I'll –"

"You'll do what? You're not going to shoot me, Connor, and even if you could, I'm pretty sure your dad wouldn't like it… and you've seen what he does to people who don't toe the line…" she said, treading water now, her senses screaming at her. This was her chance.

"He'd never do that to me… I'm his son…"

"Well, I guess you didn't expect him to hurt me either, right?" she reasoned as she swam further and further out, seeing Connor hesitate at waist deep water, the gun still pointed at her. When she was out far enough, she turned toward the far away shore.

"Charlie! Don't do this –" Connor was shouting now, and she barely spared him a glance as she dived under the water and started swimming for all she was worth. She swam as though her life depended on it, which, in some ways, it probably did, and eventually reached the far shore, her muscles trembling as she heard shouts coming from the camp, carrying over the water.

She dragged herself out, and pushed herself to run at least into the tree line before stopping.

She was breathing hard, her body was wet and shivering. So, maybe not the best plan, considering she was now unarmed, wet and practically naked, but what other option did she have. She look across the water, and saw figures on the shore, pointing binoculars in her direction, she made sure she was blended into the trees before turning and starting to climb up into the foliage.

Time to move, he would be coming for her, and she had to be already gone, by the time he did, she told herself grimly, or there'd be hell to pay.

Monroe resisted berating Connor for the tenth time as they walked almost the green trees, the falling darkness necessitating the use of flaming torches to see. Great, he thought wildly, now it was night, it was cool, and Charlie was out here, running around in her underwear, probably still soaking wet, and without even a knife to her name.

The men zigzagged over the search grid, and he held back his frustration as they seemed bewildered by their lack of progress in finding her. They didn't know who she was, and everything she'd done. They didn't know who her uncle was, and what blood ran in her veins.

As a scout came up, reporting some fool who'd fallen and broken his leg in the dark, Monroe bit back a curse, and instructed the men to fall back. Connor hesitated, unsure, feeling responsible, until Monroe let him go to. His son wasn't responsible, it was his own fault. He had let his injured pride keep him away from her, when he knew what she was capable of. But, to see her after the previous night, had been too much to stomach. So, yeah, maybe he had goaded her, sent Connor to watch her, and it had been petty. So now, she'd probably die of exposure, just to be rid of him. If he'd ever needed a reminder of why he was terrible for Charlotte Matheson, this would definitely be up there.

He stayed, let the men go. He didn't care what they thought. They already knew that something was different with their 'prisoner', so what the hell, he thought as he moved quietly through the trees.

He had to think like her, follow her strategy, because, if he knew anything at all, he knew her, and he knew how she'd think. She'd think like Miles, and that… he could predict.

Charlie shifted a tiny amount, and froze as she saw a torch come into view. She been perched in the tree for hours, and her legs were completely numb. She couldn't outrun them, but she could hide until they were gone. From her vantage point, she'd seen Monroe send the men back, and had let her hopes rise for a moment, but then, he had turned back to the forest, a determined look in his eyes, and she knew he wasn't going to stop until he found her. She was shivering, her fingers almost uncontrollable at this point and she felt a intense urge to sneeze. She was probably going to get real sick, she thought, if she got out of this. She saw his torch move below her, passing under her, and once again reflected on how strange it was to be hiding from the one person who had always saved you, something that was true, in this world, and the other.

Finally he moved off, and she didn't waste time. She had to move, before he figured her out. She started down the tree, ignoring the scrapes and cuts of the bark. She bit her lip as a long splinter embedded itself in her forearm, swearing in her head, and sighed with relief as her feet finally touched the leafy forest floor. She was quiet, and moving in a semi crouch, started in the opposite direction from the way Monroe had gone. The forest seemed alive around her, insects rustling and animals moving, as she slipped from refuge to refuge, trying not to think of how cold or hungry she was, and what the hell she was going to go after she got out the woods.

A twig snapped behind her, and even as her heart clenched with disappointment, maybe, just maybe, there was a little relief as she spun around, immediately followed by dread.

The two men standing behind her were not Militia, or Duncan's clan, nor patriots, as far as she could see. Maybe they were just drifters, probably, but they were looking at her scantily clad body like it was Christmas morning, their dirty hands clutching at their thighs eagerly, knives flashing in the moonlight, filtering down through the forest canopy.

She had no time, no time to strategize, or plan, or even think about the consequences, she was unarmed, and tired, weak from cold and hunger. She wouldn't win. She let instinct take over.

"Well… who do we have here?" one of the men said, a broad smile stretching across his face, as Charlie let her head fall back, opened her mouth and let out the most ear-piercing scream of all time. The two men tensed, apparently expecting some kind of follow up to it, looking at each other and her as her voice faded from the air, and she stood, simply looking at them.

'Some pair of lungs you got on you, girl… not that'll do much good now" the bigger one laughed, coming forward and grabbing her arm. She tried to punch him, but was too slow, her arm moving in slow motion, her muscles gelatinous. He easily avoided it, and shoved her to the ground.

"Come on now, this doesn't have to be bad" he was grunting as he ran his hands down her body.

She screamed again, terror starting to choke her, Gould's pleasure town and the chain rearing up in her memory. She screamed in his ear, she bit him, scratched and clawed. Apparently he wasn't a fan, as he leaned back and socked her, right in the eye. She felt as though it was exploding as she slumped down, feeling his hands travel to her breasts, groping them. She made an attempt to stop him, kept trying to fight him off, because… she just had to wait… she just had to last a little longer… she thought madly as she evaded the mans hands, even when they wrapped around her throat.

He would come. He would come for her.

She just had to make it till then. She gurgled as she felt her air supply cut off.

"Stop being such a bitch –" the man panted over her, trying to sit on top of her thrashing legs.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, echoing in the forest, and the man on top of her froze, before standing up, and dragging her with him. She stumbled, her eyes swimming as she tried to see in the dark.

He'd abandoned his torch, and now stood in the darkness, his gun raised at her attacker, his face set in stone, moonlight glinting off the hard planes. The other man already lay dead, a pool of blood growing around him.

"Let her go… and we're good" he said, his voice quiet, full of barely controlled fury.

"Yeah right, why? You want to take a crack at her too? I'll give you first go" the men replied, and Charlie felt her lip curl in disgust. Monroe's head fell to the side, as he circling them slowly, his careful movements coiled with the power of some kind of animal, a wolf maybe, or some kind of big cat. She pulled her mind back to the task at hand, and locked eyes with him, still repulsed by the man's comment.

They shared a long look, and with a invisible signal, Charlie yanked her head roughly to the other side, away from the knife, throwing the man's balance a little, clearing a slither of pathway between their heads. The single gunshot rang out, deafening her. The sound echoed around her head as she staggered away from his crumpling body. The forest noises, and Monroe's voice was coming in and out of focus, and she wiped at the liquid trickling from her ear drum, staring at her fingers, feeling the shock, exertion cold and hunger take over, seeing his face rushing to her as the world went black.

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She shut off the lights, and hefted the garbage bags from the back. Stepping back into the bar, she realised everyone had gone, and only Bass had remained. She felt nerves sweep through her at the sight of his strong back, bent over the duke box, lost in contemplation. She locked the cash register, and pulled her jacket on, casting small glances over at him, listening to his song choice.

"I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real"

She slowly approached him from behind, feeling the song wrap around her. The words. They were so raw, and so real to him, she could see it in his eyes. As though they had been written for him. She stopped behind him, and she wanted to touch him, wanted to feel the leather of his jacket under her fingers, wanted him to turn to her, see her… to have missed her, to have longed for her, as she had him.

"What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt"

Instead, she stepped past him, and joined him before the glass façade. In the deepening night, creeping in the windows, she had rested her hand, lightly, so lightly, on his, leaning against the hard top. They had stood there, and she had met his eyes in the reflection. Staring through the glass, they had stood side by side, and spoken to each other without words.

He had finally turned to look at her, a long look, before interlacing his fingers with hers, and tugging her gently toward the door.

"Let's go Matheson, time to get you home"

They had been quiet on the walk back, he had seemed pensive, and she thoughtful. Reaching her door, feeling the nervousness that comes with the fear of losing the grip of someone you have waited too long for, missed too much. He stopped as she fished around in her bag for keys, slipping her hand from his finally, as the search proved to be more difficult than she had expected. She finally fond them, brandishing them with a flourish, she turned and unlocked the door. As she stepped inside, she glanced back over her shoulder, ready to say goodbye, when she saw with surprise that he was right behind her, slipping his hand back into hers, avoiding her eyes.

Her heart started to pound, a long, steady beat, pushing the blood through her veins with increasing intensity. Her skin started to hum, her breath felt short, as they walked down the hall toward her door, the hall held once carried her over his shoulder along.

They reached her door, and, carefully she opened it, with one hand, and walked into her flat.

It was dark and still there, the space already holding memories of them together. Very conscious that his hand was still holding hers, she walked slowly along the hall, without looking back, feeling very inch of her skin on high alert. She was aware of his eyes on her, moving over her, yet, it wasn't intimidating, in fact, she felt very much in charge as she pushed open the door to her room and walked in. She finally dropped his hand, and turned, pulling off her jacket, and kicking off her boots, all the while, the blood singing in her veins. She was so acutely aware of his presence in her room, right behind her, his eyes on her, it was overwhelming. She turned and met that blue gaze full on.

One heartbeat.

Another.

And then, he was closing the gap, pulling her in, his hands cupping her cheeks, their bodies coming together as though they had been separated too long, forcing apart something that should never be apart, Pan and his shadow.

He was kissing her, and boy was he kissing her. He was kissing her as though she was oxygen and him a suffocating man, his hands sliding into her hair, twisting the long strands around his fists, tilting her head, trying to get closer, trying to keep even a participle of air from coming between them.

She felt the edge of the bed hit her knees, and knock her out of the moment. She drew back, breathing hard, and then slowly, leading him by the hand, sliding backwards, climbing onto the mattress and inching her way back, pulling him by the hand after her, as he watched her with fascination, desire… need. She reached the top and lay down, on her side, curling her arm under her head, and watched him. His fists clenched, his fingers trembled and she could see how close was to talking himself out of it. He sat on the edge, one leg on, one leg off, and watched her, while be battled himself.

"You don't really know me, Charlie… if you did, you would never look at me the way you do. I'm not a good person…"

"I don't care. You're good to me" she'd said simply, without trying to correct him, or argue with him, and she really meant it. He smiled a little at her instant answer. Gradually she pulled him down, bit by bit, until he was facing her too, their positions mirrored. They stared at each other. She raised a finger, and traced the line of his jaw, then his eyebrows, and nose, until he smiled.

"I like that… I don't see it enough" she murmured, stroking her thumb across his lips.

"I could say the same…" he replied softly. He raised his own hand, and caressed her cheek.

"You've no idea what you're doing to me kid…" he muttered, and she arched an eyebrow at him.

"You are you calling kid?" she asked, as his hand skimmed over the necklace she wore, a delicate silver computer key, a B.

"No one…"

And then, there had been no more words, no more futile speech. His lips on hers, his cheek, rubbing against her neck, as his full lips placed soft kisses along her collarbones. Shaking as his face, buried at her chest, his tongue merciless with its onslaught, its teasing its endless strokes and wet tugs. Her pushing back, changing positions and slowly undoing his belt, tugging it open with aplomb, his eyes latched onto her, feverish in their intensity. His jeans slowly inching down, his groan as he was finally freed. Her hands grabbing, stroking and exploring new territory. Her adventurous changing of direction, straddling his head, as she became better acquainted with him, licking, palming and tasting, as he made her body start to scream. Her first orgasm, moans muffled by him in her mouth, as he had held her there, relentlessly, evaded her desperate movements away and forced her orgasm to last an immeasurable time, before she collapsed down on him, a sodden puddle, as he shifted them around and slipped between her legs, inside her, making her bow with the deliciously full feeling.

The way his hands cupped her face, stroked her cheeks, while his eyes stared into hers, it was a moment forever imprinted in her memory. She felt sure she had never existed quite so wholly than she had at that moment, in her reflection in his eyes. Then, the feeling over taking, and the pace speeding up, her body rising to meet his, slam for slam, their sweat mingling, her fingers scratching, his lips seeking hers. His name spilling from his lips as he arched, deep inside her as she felt her second orgasm blossom inside her, gently unfurling with an unbelievable intensity, as he jerked and strained. "Charlotte…. Charlotte"

The cool morning light had seeped in to find them back in their initial position, side by side, this time, her head resting on his bare shoulder, his mouth pressing lazy kisses into her hair, as their hands intertwined in the air, again and again, as she traced the length of his battle hardened fingers, and he couldn't keep his fingers from the slender column of her wrist, the delicate arch of her thumb.

Everything had felt different, newer, cleaner, brighter somehow.

A new beginning.

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The smell of food woke her, either that, or the loud rumble her stomach let out as it registered. There was the sizzle of frying, and she felt so comfortable that she didn't want to open her eyes. In her mind's eye, she was still in her bed, her head supported by Bass, her heart full. She could barely remember feeling more complete… more whole… than she did in that dream memory. How cruel it was to wake every morning and remember again, lose everything again. She shifted. And felt a pounding shake her head. Ouch, there was the headache. She felt warm, unbearably so, she realised as she threw off the offensively warm cover, it felt as though it was suffocating her.

The quiet chatter around her was unobtrusive and low, and she basked a moment, that long moment before she had to face the aftermath of her escape attempt, and her current predicament.

"How are you feeling?' Connor's voice forced her eyes open, and she saw him longing in the folded back flap of her prison, miserably familiar at this point. She swallowed and closed her eyes as the light sent needles through her aching head.

"Alright… headache" she mumbled, burying her face in the make shift pillow under her head.

"Well.. could have been a lot worse… that was stupid Charlie… really dumb"

Connor said, coming to the room a little, passing her some water. She drank slowly, wincing as she had to raise her head.

"How long was I out?" she asked, blinking her eyes and trying to clear them.

"A couple of days" she spat the water out.

"Are you serious?"

"Well… what did you expect, after swimming that far, exposure, running about the woods all night" he grumbled as he sat on the end of her make shift bed. She let out a long sigh, and raised her hand to her eye feeling a certain puffiness surrounding it. She hissed as it burned under her touch.

"Sorry… if I got you in trouble" she said suddenly, throwing a limp hand over her eyes to shade them.

"It's alright… wouldn't be the first time. I always seem to be getting in trouble for you… for letting you escape… not watching your back well enough… sleeping with you" he broke off in a laugh. She joined him after a moment,

"Well… you dad is pretty crazy" she murmured.

"Not crazy… protective on a good day… possessive on a bad." Connor corrected gently and she met his frank gaze, seeing how much more Connor had been figuring out about them than they had realised. Unsure of what to answer to that, Charlie simply stared back.

"Where is he, anyway?" she asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen.

"Passed out… he's not exactly slept well, since we met up with Duncan's men… which you can congratulate yourself on… he's been here, waiting for you to wake up… that's the problem when there's only one doc…" Connor said lightly, yet, she was pretty sure he was watching her reaction. She forced herself not to give him anything, and simply nodded.

"When are we moving again?" she asked as Connor slowly stood, making his way to the door.

'Dunno, we'll have to see when the General decides… he'll want to know you finally woke up" Connor said, before ducking out.

In her minds eye, she saw the forest, alive with moving shadows and sounds, she saw the men, and she felt that absence of fear, despite being empty handed and vulnerable, because… because he had been near, and he wouldn't have let anything bad happen to her.

Her feelings were mangled, that much was clear, and yet, the one thing that seemed to stand above everything, was that Sebastian Monroe had become an important person to her, whether she happened to be hating him, or fighting to save him, or watching his back, or kissing him. There was no denying, that he mattered to her, in one way or another, and she clearly mattered to him too. The truth of that, the weight of it, and all it's implication were too heavy for her to digest at the moment, she thought sleepily, surprised to find a new wave of exhaustion wash over her. She should sleep, she supposed, before they had to move. She lay back, gingerly touching her eye for a moment, before closing them.

Monroe moved through his camp, watching the men rest, eat, stripping animal carcasses and practice their sword skills. Duncan's men had fit in, if a little unevenly, and to be honest, he preferred their self-sufficient style more than his own former Millitia. He had been on his own enough, recently, in this brave new world to remember what was important… survival, and the skills to go with it. He had gotten too used to ivory towers, and he had needed this, to come back to the ground. The reality was that there had been a whole lot wrong with the Republic… he knew that… the only thing he didn't know, was how to go about it differently this time, how to change a system that so many still remembered.

He had become too removed from the men, too distant, and had moved people like pieces in a chess match, so high above them that they hadn't been real, nothing had been real. He had forgotten that people, other people, have families, and loved ones, those that depend on them coming home. He had forgotten that not everything was a means to an end. It was important for him to remember that… important not to lose that insight going forward.

Charlie was awake, Connor had woken him to tell him, and now, he was doing everything he could, not to run straight to her tent and start in on her about how stupid she'd been. He had gone about it all wrong, he now realised. His history with Charlie, in the dream world, was not forgotten by her, just fought against. And, that history was on his mind more than he cared to admit right now.

He, Sebastian Monroe had been in love, wholly, fully in love, for the first time in his life. He had felt the abandon of loving someone else, so that their well being mattered more than his own, he had trusted someone else… something he had little capacity or experience of in real life. The truth was, in his memories of Charlie, he had been a more complete man, a happier man, by far, than anything her could recall from reality… so the real question was… how could he go forward without that feeling, now he'd tasted it?

He couldn't, was the answer, and he couldn't fool himself that some other woman would substitute, there was only one Charlotte Matheson, and she had turned his life upside down, and he wasn't naïve enough to think he'd meet her equal. It wasn't just about her either… though she was obviously without parallel. It was also about him, he was clearly not an easy man to love… not an easy man to trust… and if someone like her could… well, maybe sometimes second chances at a better life were given out… maybe.

He had circuited the camp a couple of times. Twilight was beginning to fall, and he was tired, and he wanted to rest, and he wanted to do that beside her, a place that had started to feel like home to him. He took his place in the line beside the deer roasting over the fire, waving off the men's attempts to serve him first. He waited, watched them, finally filling two plates and grabbing a canteen of fresh water. He turned and saw Connor sitting with some Mercenaries, flashing a smile over at him, as he laughed and relaxed with them, before turning toward the tent, and her.