Prologue

The Patriot War is over and thankfully Miles and his band of merry men (as he's come to think of their rag tag group in his head) all came out of it alive. When the newly expanded Texas government had started handing out land grants to anyone willing to settle the recently annexed Plains Nation (now known as North Texas), Miles had called a meeting and everyone agreed it was a good opportunity. Well, almost everyone. Gene said he was just too damn old to pull up stakes now. He was staying in Willoughby. The rest of the crew had loaded their possessions into wagons and taken the two week drive north to what had once been Missouri. They staked their claim to forty acres near the Mississippi River that included a rambling farm house, an old barn, and long abandoned hay and corn fields. Everything had been in need of repair and Bass, Miles and Charlie had spent the first several months fixing the place up as good as they could. Rachel, Aaron and Priscilla had planted gardens, and tended to the goats and sheep the group had acquired.

Everything was going pretty well, until news came to them that the damn Nano was alive and well in Idaho of all places. Aaron and Rachel had immediately wanted to go and see if they could defeat it. Priscilla was easily swayed to join. Miles and Bass were skeptical and felt they would be more useful staying on the farm. Charlie decided to stay too. She didn't want anything to do with the Nano. The three were gone within a week of hearing the news. There had been some tearful goodbyes, but everyone knew this was the way it had to be.

Winter coming

This will be their first winter on the farm and Miles, Bass and Charlie are busy getting ready. They have a storm cellar that they are filling with provisions for the coming cold months. Every time Charlie thinks that surely they have enough, Miles thinks of something else they needed.

"There's only the three of us. Who is all this food for?" she asked, not for the first time.

"There's only three of us now, but what if your Mom gets back before spring?" Miles asks. "What if some neighbors need help?" The truth is that they haven't heard from Rachel in over a month and don't expect her back for a while, and they haven't met any neighbors. He still wants to be prepared.

"Fine. What do you want me to do today?" Charlie is tired of all this preparation work. A beautiful autumn surrounds them and the weather is beautiful. It's hard to imagine that the coming winter will be as bad as they think. She remembers winters in Wisconsin and they'd always managed through those just fine.

"You and Bass are going to organize the cellar. There's no room to even walk around down there." Bass and Charlie exchange glances. Neither of them is happy about this task, or the fact that they'll have to do it together. Tensions between the two have been high of late.

"What are you going to do while we're working in the damn cellar?" Bass asks, a note of irritation clear in his voice.

"Going to town. Gotta get some stuff. Gotta mail a letter." Miles is still writing to Rachel once a week. Nobody knows if she's getting the letters. The new postal service is sketchy to say the least. It doesn't matter to Miles. This has become his thing.

"Play nice," he says, "and I'll bring you back a treat." Miles chuckles as he mounts his horse and rides toward town.

The Cellar

Bass and Charlie stand side by side at the foot of the cellar steps, surveying the chaos before them. "I think Miles has gone a little crazy with all this doomsday prepper bullshit. Doomsday already came and went. If we survived that, we can sure as hell survive a snowstorm or two." Bass is growly and short tempered. He wants to be outside in the sunshine. He wants to go for a swim in the warm fall sunlight. He wants to get laid in the worst way… Glancing at Charlie as this thought crosses his mind, he has to remind himself for the thousandth time that he's out of luck. No way is THAT going to happen.

"What is a doomsday prepper?" Charlie asks.

"Before the blackout there were a lot of people who were worried something bad might happen and they stocked up on weapons and food so that they would survive even if the world crumbled around them."

"Seems pretty smart to me." Charlie says with a smirk.

He shrugs, "Yeah, I guess."

"Where should we start?" She points to the mess before them.

"Let's line up the baskets and barrels along the far wall. That will give us enough space to figure out the rest." Bass suggests.

"I think we should start with the shelves and organize the jars and the dried meat first." Charlie argues. She actually has no problem with Bass' suggestion, but she can't help herself. She always disagrees with him. Even when she agrees with him, she says she doesn't. Its like a compulsion. She yanks his chain whenever she can.

"Jesus Charlotte." He throws up his hands. "Why do you ask me if you already have a plan?"

She has no answer, and just shrugs.

"How about you work the shelves and I'll start moving barrels?" Then without waiting for her to answer he heads over to the far wall and starts moving things around. Charlie watches him for a minute. She admires the cut of his biceps as he lugs the heavy boxes and barrels around. She notes the cords in his neck that flex as he strains. She watches as he purses his lips in concentration. She's still watching when he glances up. "Or I guess you can just stand there and watch me work." He growls before turning away again.

Busted, Charlie is embarrassed but turns to the shelves so he won't notice the blush creeping up her cheeks. They work in silence for a while, ignoring each other, yet fully aware of the other's presence. They are both getting hot. Bass is the first to do something about it, pulling his sweaty tee shirt over his head with a sigh. Charlie glances over and has to hold in a sigh of her own. God he is beautiful. She shakes her gaze from him, and her thoughts from what she'd like to do to him. Talk about a waste of time. Fantasizing about doing anything with Monroe is ridiculous. He thinks she's a kid, and she thinks he's annoying. Doesn't she? Charlie sneaks a peek again, watching his muscles bunch and move under tight tan skin. She feels wetness pooling in her panties. She's overheating. That's the problem, surely. It's just too damn hot down here. She pulls her tank top up, tucking the hem of it under her bra, exposing her midriff to the air. She feels better – cooler – in moments.

Bass stops cold, a basket of apples in his hands. What the fuck did she just do to her shirt? Is she trying to kill him? All that tight skin on display brings to mind a lot of thoughts he knows he's not supposed to be having. Not about Charlie. She reaches high and suddenly everything shifts. Everything on the shelf in front of her, that is. She reaches to steady the shelf but she's struggling. In a heartbeat, Bass sits down his basket of apples and rushes over to where Charlie is trying to right the shelf that is falling. He reaches around Charlie's shoulders, his chest and abs pressing against her back. He grabs hold of the shelf so that Charlie can fix the support that had slipped out of place. When the shelf is sturdy once again, she realizes just how close he still is. Charlie's breath catches at his touch. She pulls away from him and loses her footing in the process. Bass reaches out to steady her, his warm hands grasping her hips firmly.

"Careful." His voice is just a whisper as he leans down, his mouth so close that she can feel his hot breath on her ear.

A shiver drills through Charlie's core. She presses back against him for just a moment before coming to her senses. She pulls away with a jerk. "I'm fine." She faces him, intending to show him just how fine she is, but their eyes meet and she sees something there – a need, a hunger. And she remembers…

When Charlie pulls away from him, Bass feels flustered and a little lost, and then when his eyes meet hers he sees in her gaze a yearning that matches his own. And he remembers…

Six Months Ago at the 'Victory' Party celebrating the Patriot downfall, Willoughby Texas

Bass is drunk. Miles is drunk. Charlie is drunk. Every damn body is drunk. This is the party of the century and with Texas paying the tab; this group is making the most of the shin dig being thrown in their honor. There is an honest to God live band playing decent covers of everything from Kenny Rodgers to CCR and the booze if flowing like Niagara Falls.

Miles is laughing, "I just saw Aaron dancing on a table!"

"Poor table." Bass chuckles.

"I like this." Charlie says with a wide grin.

"What, the party? Aaron dancing on tables?" Bass is leaning against the bar beside her. Her smile stirs him, not for the first time.

"This song." She points to the band. "I like this song. I can't believe you used to have music all the time." She shakes her head, taking another deep drink. "Music is amazing. This song is amazing. This party is amazing."

Her enthusiasm is contagious. "Wanna dance?" he asks, and as soon as the words are out he wants to pull them back. Not because he can't dance. He can. He's actually a very good dancer. It's because he knows she's going to say no."

"Yes." She surprises him, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Bass smiles a little half smile, downs the rest of his drink and takes her hand. He tries to ignore the spark he feels at her touch but it's not easy. He leads her to the dance floor which is crowded. She moves into his arms as if she belongs there – maybe she does – and he feels a heat coiling within as the scent of her hair assails his nose. Bass pulls her close – maybe too close but he doesn't care. She feels too good – so damn good in his arms, her body flush against his.

Charlie is not a great dancer but the thing about dancing with a partner is that if your partner knows what they're doing – and dear God Bass knows what he's doing – it's not so hard to dance. Charlie melts into him, following his moves, swaying to the music – she loves this song – she loves dancing to this song with him. She nuzzles against his neck, inhaling his scent. Without meaning to – or hell maybe she does mean to – she touches his throat with her lips. It is the softest kiss, barely anything – maybe he won't notice. He notices. He notices in a big way – a big way that is suddenly growing hard and thick and which she can feel against her belly through the fabric of his khakis.

Jesus. What is she doing? She kissed his neck. Charlie fucking Matheson just kissed his neck. Now he's hard. He's so damn hard he knows she can feel it. He knows because now she's making a point of pressing against him – she's letting him know that she knows. God how drunk is she? Pretty damn drunk evidently because now she's kissing his neck again and this time it's not subtle. It's not something he can pretend is anything that it isn't. Charlie is making a move. He lets his hands wander low on her back and then lower. He pulls her closer still, his cock straining between them. She's not just kissing anymore. She's sucking on his neck now, right at his pulse point. "Charlie." His voice is gruff. "What are you doing?"

"Something I've been wanting to do for a really long time." And with that she bites down on a cord in his throat and he can't help the moan that escapes his lips. He looks around the crowd as she sucks on his neck. He's gonna have a fucking hickie in the morning. He doesn't care. He's looking for Miles or God forbid – Rachel. If either of them sees this it will be his head. It doesn't matter that Charlie is trying to eat his neck right here on the dance floor. Fuck. This thing she's doing with her tongue is going to drive him crazy. He doesn't see Miles or Rachel but he does see a door. Without thinking about it too much – truth is the parts of his brain that think are far too busy thinking about Charlie's hot mouth on his flesh – he twirls her around and through the door, shutting it smoothly behind them.

The space they find themselves in is mostly dark. A small window lets in just enough moonlight for Charlie to see the look on Bass' face, a look that she knows because it matches how she feels. "Bass." She says, her voice is all scratchy and needy and he closes the space between them and there is no pretense. His mouth crashes down on hers and she returns his passion fully, opening her mouth with a low moan so that he can invade with his tongue. Charlie finds herself pressed between Bass' hard body and the cinderblock wall to her back. His muscled thigh moves between her legs and she reaches for his shirt tails, yanking them from his pants. Her fingers move up his back, under the shirt. She explores the tight skin and defined muscles there, trailing her fingertips along his spine before dropping her hands to his firm ass, pulling him close.

Fuck. She tastes like whiskey and heaven. He wants to bury himself in her. He wants it more than anything. Oh hell, she's reaching for his waistband. He lets her work the snap and zipper as he continues an assault on her willing mouth. He groans when her small hand wraps around his hard cock and she pulls him free. Charlie swallows the pathetic little sounds he makes as she starts to pull, occasionally she slows and strokes the velvety tip before pulling some more. He snakes his fingers under her shirt, pushes her flimsy bra out of the way and begins to knead her small but full breast, tweaking at the perked nipple. He's getting close and Charlie seems to know it. She's not easing up. If anything, she's tightened her grip, pulling and stroking his thick penis like it's her job. Bass squeezes her breast firmly as his balls start to tighten. "Gonna come Charlie." He warns her, speaking hotly against her mouth as he thrusts into her fist.

She loves how powerful it feels to have a man like Bass Monroe trembling under her touch. She loves the noises he makes as he gets closer. She loves the taste of his mouth and the feel of his muscles under her caress. When he comes, he spills over her fingers and she smiles into the kiss, happy to have given him pleasure. Bass changes the kiss, slows it down, deepens it. Charlie feels a quaking in her belly, a quickening in her core. Now it's Bass who is unfastening jeans – hers. His fingers slide inside her jeans, under her panties, through the short curls, finding her wet and ready. He strokes her clit a few times – oh God he knows just what to do - and is just speeding up when the door crashes open.

Light floods the space. The door closes as quickly as it had opened. Once again darkness surrounds them, but the spell is broken. They stare at each other for a moment, not touching, breathing heavily. Charlie grins at him, her eyes wide. "Later?"

He nods, still in shock that any of this is happening, but knowing that he can't wait for it to happen some more. "Later." He agrees, kissing her quickly one more time before they re-enter the party, going their separate ways… for now.

He looks for her after a while, but doesn't see her again that night. The next day she refuses to speak to him at all. She never gives him an explanation, just glaring when he attempts any conversation. Eventually Bass gives up. When they do speak to each other, it's all sarcasm and arguments from then on out. They can barely be in the same room before the tension builds.

Back in the Cellar - Present

Bass runs a hand nervously through his curls. Charlie watches as the muscles in his chest dance with the movement. She takes a shaky breath.

"We ever gonna talk about it?" Bass asks, his voice thick. He doesn't have to define 'it'. They both know.

"Nope." She says definitively, before moving back to the shelves to continue organizing the things stored there.

Bass has had it with this bullshit. He stomps closer and puts a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "I want to talk about it damn it."

"Why?" he sees something new in her expression. It looks like fear.

"What are you afraid of Charlie?" Bass keeps his voice soft, but takes a step closer.

"Nothing."

"Are you afraid of me?" he asks, thinking please say no – please say no – please say no.

"No." she looks surprised that he would even ask that. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then what? We were doing so good. I think we were friends even, and then that dance changed everything."

"Yeah." She won't meet his eyes.

"But why did it have to change anything?" he frowns, rethinking, "or, why can't it have changed things in a different way?" Throwing caution to the wind, he reaches up and strokes her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes go wide and he can feel her shiver.

She doesn't speak for a long time. When she does, he swears he can hear tears in her voice. "Because I know I'm not the kind of girl you really want. I don't want to be some meaningless fling or the stupid kid who gives into a stupid crush only to be laughed at later. " She turns and heads for the cellar stairs, leaving behind a stunned Bass Monroe.

"What stupid crush?" he asks the empty cellar as the door slams shut behind her.

Dinner

"How was town?" Charlie asks Miles. She's been ignoring Bass ever since he came out of the cellar hours after she'd escaped the space.

Miles shrugs, "It was fine. A lot more homesteaders settling around the old town, filling in the buildings. There's a new general store that might have some stuff you'd both enjoy. Maybe you two should go in next time?" he watches them carefully. Something is up.

They speak at the same time. "Sounds good." Bass says. "Nah." Charlie says. Their eyes meet and Miles looks from one to the other.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asks. "You two are acting weird."

"Nothing." They say in unison. Once again their eyes meet and the tension hangs heavy in the air around them.

"Jesus you two are worse than an old married couple." He can't stop eyeing them. What the hell happened today? "Thanks for finishing the cellar. It looks great."

Charlie starts to say she didn't really do much, but Bass cuts her off. "It wasn't a problem. We got it all straightened out just like you asked."

Miles nods. "I know you both think I'm crazy, but when we have three feet of snow outside you're gonna be glad I badgered you about stocking up." He stands and moves to leave the kitchen. Darkness is slowly enveloping the farm house. Miles is almost through the door, when he hears them start bickering again. It's been like this ever since he got home.

"I'll clean up." Charlie says.

"I'll help." Bass offers.

"I don't need any help." She retorts.

It goes on and on.

"I need a fucking drink." Miles moans leaving them to whatever it is they are in the middle of.

Good Night Charlotte

Charlie is curled up on an old sofa on one end of the long living room in the old farm house. She's reading Stephen King's "The Stand" by candlelight. Aaron had given her a copy after finding it in town just before he headed to Idaho. She's half through and enjoys her evening ritual of reading a few chapters before bed.

Bass and Miles are lounging on the other side of the room, drinks in hand. A lone candle burning between them on a low table.

"So what's the deal between you and Charlie? You guys get in a fight?" Miles asks, his voice low.

Bass shrugs, "Not exactly." He takes a drink, watching her read, soaking up the image of candlelight bouncing off her skin and hair, the way she bites her lip when the book she's reading makes her feel tense, the way she...

"You're doing it again." Miles chuckles.

"What?" Bass asks, turning to his friend.

"You're looking at her like a starving man looks at steak." He grins.

Bass moves uncomfortably in his seat. "Must be a trick of the light."

"Yeah whatever." Miles is quiet for a moment and then says, "If it isn't Charlie you are interested in, maybe you should go into town over the weekend. Find a woman to ease some of that tension."

"Nah. I've seen the women that town has to offer. None of them are my type." Bass takes another drink, his eyes drawn to Charlie once more.

Miles leans back and cocks an eyebrow at his oldest friend, "Since when do you have a type?" his tone holds incredulity. "All I ever knew that you cared about was pretty and not dead. There are plenty of women in town who meet those criteria."

Bass frowns. "I want more than that now."

"Well, do enlighten me Bass. What are you looking for now?"

"Well, I'm still attached to the not dead thing, and I still like pretty." He hesitates, closing his eyes as if picturing his perfect woman, "She's gotta be smart and funny and tough. She needs to not take any shit from me. She needs to be able to take care of herself but also maybe need a little help once in a while. She needs to be able to hold her liquor and make me laugh. She needs to know the real me and still like me. She needs to be…" Bass trails off, his eyes still closed.

"She needs to be what? Charlie? Cause other than saying her name, that's who you just described, brother."

Bass opens his eyes and looks at Miles straight on. Their eyes hold for a long time before Bass says quietly, "Yeah. I know."

"Does she?" Miles motions toward where Charlie is still immersed in her book, "Does she know how you feel?"

"I don't think so. She won't talk to me about it. That's why things have been tense. I want to talk. She doesn't."

"God you're a girl." Miles laughs

"Shut up Miles. Not a good time." Bass is frowning into his glass.

"Whatever." Miles stands, "For what it's worth, you aren't the only one stealing glances when the other one isn't looking. I don't pretend to know what any woman is thinking, but maybe you should try to talk to her again. Maybe she'll listen." He pats Bass on the shoulder. "I'm hitting the hay. See you tomorrow."

Miles has been gone for a few minutes when Bass decides it's time to shake things up. He starts humming very softly. At first she doesn't seem to notice, but then she must recognize the tune because her head jerks up and she's staring. "What are you doing?"

"Humming a song." He says, before resuming.

"That's the song…" She looks unsure.

"Yeah, it's the song we danced to at the Victory party."

"What's it called?" she asks, realizing she doesn't know.

He stands and walks toward her. "You're Always on my Mind. Elvis sang it. My favorite version was Willy Nelson's."

"Oh." She says, looking away. Both of them are suddenly very aware of how appropriate that song title is. "It's pretty."

"Yeah. It is pretty. So are you."

Charlie is immediately flustered. She marks her place in the book and sets it down with a thump.

"Don't go." He says. "Talk to me." His voice is gruff.

"Why do we always have to talk about everything?"

"Because that's how grown-ups deal with their problems Charlotte. Don't be a child."

"Wow. Well, I guess it's nice to know how you feel. It's way past my bedtime, Uncle Bass." She sounds bitter.

"Hey, you know that's not what I meant." Bass places his hands on her shoulders, urging Charlie to meet his gaze, " I've never thought you were too young for… anything."

"Really?" She does not look convinced. "You are always correcting me, and you always make fun of me for not knowing stuff that happened before the blackout. Now you're saying that I'm a child if I don't want to hash out every damn thing. Clearly you think I'm too young… that I can't do anything right."

"Are you serious? Yeah I try to correct you sometimes, but not just you. I'm bossy. I used to run a country, Charlie. It's just habit, and I do it to everybody. Yeah I tease you. So does Miles. We both tease you because we're the kind of guys who tease girls." He steps closer then, mere inches separating their bodies. "And as for what you are able to do right… I can think of a lot of things." His voice has gone lower.

"Like what?" she asks, a little breathless.

Bass runs a finger along her jaw. "You are an amazing hunter, and a fearless soldier. You are a great tracker and a ruthless killer when you need to be…"

"Thanks a lot. You just described Miles – well except for the tracking part. He sucks at tracking." She pulls away, but he doesn't let her get far.

Moving close behind her, he gently massages her shoulders. "I am describing YOU, not Miles, and I was not done." His mouth is close to her ear. "You are also beautiful and funny and kind and loyal. You can bake a mean apple pie." She smiles a little at this. He continues, "And if memory serves, you are also very good at kissing and touching and knowing just what to do to drive me crazy…" he brushes a kiss against her temple.

Charlie doesn't answer, but slowly pulls away. Turning at the door, she looks back at him – her eyes search his, blue on blue. She isn't smiling, but she's not frowning either. "Good night Bass."

"Goodnight Charlotte."

Neither of them realizes that Miles heard this exchange from where he stands just inside the next room. He's thinking back to the dance now, and wonders why he never noticed before how everything had changed right after.

A Literal Shit Storm

Whatever progress Bass felt they'd made the night before is gone with the sunrise. Charlie is moody and won't talk to him again.

Miles approaches Bass, and looks angry. "What did you do now?"

"I didn't do anything!" Bass is exasperated. "I talked to her last night after you went to bed. We said goodnight. I thought everything was fine. This morning she's at my throat again." Bass sounds tired. "I'm about ready to give up."

"Give it a day Bass. Maybe whatever is going on will blow over."

Bass agrees, but he's not hopeful.

After lunch Miles asks them to muck out the sheep paddock while he fixes the pump on the well. He thinks maybe working together again will help. Bass and Charlie work in silence flinging sheep shit with their pitch forks. At one point, Charlie 'accidently' tosses a fork full of rotten straw and manure a little too far and it hits Bass in the leg. "Watch it Matheson." He growls.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." She says lightly, but he can hear the smile in her voice. He's glad she's amused at something since she's been such a grouchy bitch all morning, but he would prefer her happiness not be at his expense.

"Just remember, payback's a bitch." He says pointedly as he tosses some very fresh sheep turds her way. A big chunk sticks hotly to her arm.

She turns on him, "You son of a bitch." And she picks the big brown glob from her arm and wings it at him. Bass ducks, but not soon enough.

He lets out an angry cry as it hits him just below his right eye. "You're gonna be sorry for that." He promises.

When Miles hears the yelling, at first he thinks the farm is under attack. He reminds himself the war is over and then recognizes the voices belong to Bass and Charlie. He jogs to the paddock which is behind the old barn, and the site he sees stops him dead in his tracks.

"What the hell?" Miles asks as he watches Bass pick up an arm full of rotten wet straw and throw it at Charlie's head. Charlie retaliates by picking up a handful of very fresh looking sheep shit and rubbing it into Bass' hair. They are both covered in shit and moldy, smelly straw.

"ENOUGH!" Miles yells. He's not sure if he should laugh or cry. This is the single most ridiculous activity he's ever seen two adults engaged in. "Stop throwing shit at each other. Just stop!" He points to each in turn. "Stay right here. I'm coming back."

Bass and Charlie are both filthy and they reek. They are both still fighting mad, but they stay put as Miles has instructed. He returns in a few minutes with two buckets. He hands one to each. The buckets each contain a sponge, a cake of soap and a towel. "You." Miles points to Bass. "Go to the river and clean up." Miles then turns to Charlie, "You go use the rain barrel shower. Should be full enough to do the job." Neither of them is moving, so Miles roars, "GO!" and then they do.

Miles watches as two of his favorite people in the world walk off in different directions, both covered in shit and looking discouraged. He tightens his jaw in determination. It will probably take them a half hour to get cleaned up. These two idiots are perfect for each other, but they'll never work that out if he doesn't help. Miles sighs. He doesn't have much time if he wants his plan to work.

Time to get busy.

Author's Note: There is only one more chapter of this. It's already written and I'll have it posted on Sunday sometime. I'm in the final stages of the next chap of Brush Strokes - just working through Priya's notes and that one will probably be published by Monday or so... Cold Dish has caused me some trouble...but I'm almost done with the next chap of that as well. Wednesday? Comment if you have a minute. I love hearing from you.