The first time Bass does it, he uses it as an excuse to get out of an obnoxious officers meeting.

"Sir, The Plains Nation has been sending more and more men in for weeks. They're all holed up in an abandoned building near the western edge of Des Moines. They've got rifles and grenade launchers on the roof, anyone that goes near the building ends up dead."

Bass shows no outward signs of irritation, though an inner battle is already waging. "How do you plan on getting them out of there?" The question is met with silence, the officers around the table unwilling to voice an opinion that the President may not like. "Well?"

A harsh looking man with an animalistic gleam in his eyes leans forward in his seat. Bass is pretty sure that his name is Strausser. "Sir, if I may, we need to deal with the situation as soon as possible. If The Plains Nation is allowed to remain on our territory without consequence any longer, they may start to move even more people in and try to take over the city."

"I'm aware of that, thank you, Sergeant. But what exactly do you propose we do about it?" The other man smiles a very creepy sort of smile that sends waves of nausea through Bass' stomach.

"I think our most effective option would be to burn the building to the ground along with all of the people in it. It'll send a message to those Plains rats that we won't be pushed around on our own turf."

Murmurs of agreement sweep around the table and Bass finds himself reluctantly nodding along until a tiny squeak echos through the room. Everyone turns to find a horrified Charlie Matheson staring back at them. Bass doesn't remember her being there when the meeting started and he definitely doesn't remember her entering once they got the meeting going. Somehow, nine year old Charlie had managed to give a room full of soldiers the slip.

He gives her one of those 'you shouldn't be in here right now' looks, but she ignores it and comes over to stand next to his chair. She's dressed in an old t-shirt and holey jeans, clearly ready for a day of playing outside, but must have been sidetracked by their meeting on her way.

"Charlie, don't you have somewhere you're supposed to be?" But his not so subtle suggestion to get out falls on deaf ears and Bass promises himself that this time he really will ground her for interrupting another meeting. Well, maybe.

She looks over at him, their faces on the same level even though she's still standing. "You can't just burn it down, Bass."

He ignores her use of his first name, having given up on trying to get her to address him properly in front of company years ago, but wonders why she seems so against the idea. It's not like they hadn't done this sort of thing before. "Why not?"

Charlie huffs impatiently as if she thinks the answer is obvious, but when no one seems ready to come forward she simply rolls her eyes. "You can't do it because of the drought." Some of the officers look a little confused at her simple explanation, but Bass can see where she's going with this. "Everything's so dry that if you start a fire, you might accidentally burn down the whole town."

The officers, while not thrilled about being shown up by a little girl, agree that burning down The Plain Nation's headquarters in this climate isn't a good idea. All except for Strausser.

"Excuse me, sir, but I think that losing one city would be an acceptable loss if it means keeping The Plains off our backs."

Bass doesn't even have a chance to argue before Charlie's staring the man down, hands on her little hips, and a glare that rivals that of her uncle. "Well excuse me, but I don't think that it's your city we're talking about burning, now is it? How would you feel if we burnt down Philly and called it 'an acceptable loss?' We can't just go around burning down people's homes, that's no way to run a country!"

Strausser glares at her. "Now you listen here, little girl-"

"Enough." Bass stands up from his chair, a headache suddenly forming in the front of his brain. "Just... Enough. Burning down an entire city is not an option."

"Then what do we do, sir?" One of the other officers asks.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He really isn't in the mood for this right now. Actually, he would really rather be doing pretty much anything else.

"You know what, you guys will have to think on it without me. I just remembered that I promised The First Lady that I would take her our riding today." He looks down at Charlie and watches her face turn from confusion to excitement when she realizes that he's talking about her.

"You did? But I don't remember-"

"Yes, I did," he says loudly and then she seems to catch on.

"Oh yeah, that's why I came in here. So we could go out... riding." It's so obviously a lie that no one buys it, but they also don't dare contradict the President as he offers little Charlie his arm and leads the giggling girl from the room.

The second time Bass does it, it's to save himself from public humiliation.

It was the fifth anniversary of The Monroe Republic and Julia Neville had gotten it into her head that they needed to throw a party. She'd gotten Jeremy Baker on board and word of the party had spread like wildfire through the ranks. By the time Bass and Miles heard anything about it the entire Militia was so excited that there was no way they could say no.

Which is how Bass ended up sitting at a long table on a stage, in a banquet hall, surrounded by suck ups and socialites.

Everyone is dressed in their best clothes. Soldiers in their pressed uniforms and their wives in colorful gowns with painful high heels. The hall is decorated with blue and white banners, the pure white table cloths ironed to perfection.

Bass and Miles are drinking their way slowly through a bottle of scotch while they listen to their table mates drone on and on about things they really didn't care about, when Jeremy stands up from a table not far from their's and mounts the stage with a wide grin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please." He waits for the chatter to die down before continuing. "Thank you all for coming tonight so we could celebrate our country's success, together." The crowd interrupts his speech with excited applause. "Yes, yes, it's very exciting. But uunfortunately, the President and the General seem to have gotten a little too drunk a little too quickly, so I think it's probably best that we cancel whatever speech either of them was planning to make."

This announcement is met with loud laughter and both boys make a show of holding up their glasses for the crowd to see. They of course had made Jeremy agree to this little charade as soon as they realized that there was no way out of the party.

"However," Jeremy continued, earning their attention because this wasn't a part of the plan. "I think that our wonderful President, the man that has led us to where we are today, should lead us out onto the dance floor with the first dance. He waves his arms in a big sweeping motion, as if paving the way for Bass to take center stage.

Every eye in the hall focuses in on him. Bass can feel the woman around him viying for his attention, practically begging to be chosen to dance the first dance with the President. He can't bring himself to do it though. Picking a woman from the crowd would almost guarantee that he would spend the rest of the night in her unbearable company. Plus, despite the years that had passed, Bass still couldn't bring himself to move on from Shelly.

His eyes scan over the crowd desperately and catch on a pair of bright blue eyes. Smiling, he stands up, knowing exactly how to deal with Jeremy's trick, which had no doubt been meant to set him up with some random woman.

"Thank you, Captain Baker. Well, I think it's only appropriate that the first dance of the first ever anniversary gala be done with The First Lady." As he steps down from the platform, a hush settles over the room. Everyone's no doubt trying to figure out when their President had gotten married. But Bass' eyes train on Charlie who is watching him with a cool expression, though he can sense the held back glare she's sending his way. He holds out his hand in her direction and the woman around her start looking around excitedly as if he were talking to them.

Charlie stands, and although she is short, her back is straight and her head held high. At the young age of twelve she's still in that awkward teenager phase, though the frilly, pink dress she's wearing - chosen by none other than Julia - makes her look like a fairy princess. An angry one, but a princess nonetheless.

She weaves her way through the mass of tables, women glaring at her enviously as she passes, until she reaches him and reluctantly takes his hand. He'll pay for this later, he can see it in her eyes.

The dancing is easy. Julia had been insisting from day one that Charlie needed to learn the ways of proper etiquette so that when visiting representatives came, she could help the boys make a good impression. Despite complaining loudly and for long periods at a time, Charlie had taken the piano lessons, learned to speak French, use all the proper silverware, and even taken ballroom dancing lessons. Deep down she knew that those things, while uncomfortable or annoying most of the time, would someday come in handy. Which is why Bass and Miles had been caught many times throughout the past few weeks holed up in an empty room with her trying to learn to dance as well.

They glide seamlessly across the floor together as the music plays though as people start to join them they let themselves relax a little. Charlie waits until everyone it too busy dancing to pay them any attention before she starts in on him.

"You can't avoid it forever, you know."

He wishes he could pretend that he has no idea what she's talking about, but Charlie had been there when Shelly died. She remembers the blood and the crying. Twelve is much too young for a person to understand that kind of loss, but Bass can see the hidden pain in her eyes and the concern she has for him and his well being. So young in years, but with such an old soul. He doesn't want to insult her intelligence by pretending, so he takes another route instead.

"I know. Tell you what, you find me a woman that can do the duties of The First Lady better than you, and I'll marry her. Until then, you'll just have to live it."

She sighs and shakes her head but seems to know that this isn't the time or place for that discussion, so she let's it go. The two of them spend the rest of the night helping each other stay away from the gold digging whores that want to share the President's bed and Julia's friends that think that Charlie frowns too much.

The third time it happens, Bass is too worried about Charlie to even realize that he said it.

He's at some stupid cocktail party. Miles is out of town dealing with another border problem, which means that keeping an eye on Charlie is his problem. She had made it abundantly clear that if he didn't bring her along then she was going to go hang out with her little friend Jason Neville. Bass preferred it when Miles wasn't angry with him, so in order to keep Charlie away from the boy, he brought her with him.

She's a natural at these things. People dote all over her and she works the crowd like a pro. At fourteen, she's pretty much past the awkward phase and has moved into young adulthood. Which is a problem. In her powder blue, strapless, knee length dress, she's attracting quite a bit of attention from the men in the room. Bass wonders where the dress even came from, because he distinctly remembers Miles going through her closet and throwing out something just like it a few weeks ago. Bass had thrown out a green halter top dress that he was sure wouldn't have covered her butt.

Fortunately, a single glare from the President and the boys back off, which leaves Charlie plenty of time to work the room. Unfortunately, that also leaves Bass with plenty of time to 'get to know' the single women attending the party.

They're like vultures. Circling around him like he's their latest catch. He's sweating and uncomfortable. It's not that he doesn't like women, he's certainly known for his womanizing qualities, he just doesn't like the ladder climbing, let-me-spend-your-money kind of women.

A particularly forward one, with bleached hair and lots of cleavage, is in the process of sticking her hand down his pants when the crowd parts and Charlie staggers through.

"Bass," her voice is weak and she grabs onto his arm for support.

He immediately pushes the other woman away and grabs Charlie under her arms to steady her, she sags against him. "Charlie, what's wrong?" He can feel the panic rising in his chest. Sick Charlie is not an option.

"I don't know," she moans. "I drank this thing a guy gave me and now my stomach hurts." She wraps her arms around herself and whimpers as she clutches her stomach.

"What?" And he will never admit that he actually screeched. "What was it? Who gave it to you?"

"I don't know. It smelled kinda funny." She slaps a hand over her mouth. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

By this point, the President and the General's niece have the entire rooms attention. The other guests have gathered around them to watch the disaster unfold. Bass, who is now more concerned for Charlie's health than anything else, picks her up bridal style and starts shoving his way through the crowd towards the exit. People are to stunned to have any sense to move out of his way, so he shouts, "move it! The First Lady's coming through!"

Charlie's head sags on his shoulder and she groans some more as he all but runs from the house and down the street, heading in the direction of Independence Hall. He yells at someone from his detail to fetch the doctor as they round the first corner away from the house, but before the guy gets more than three feet, Charlie starts to laugh.

It's a belly shaking laugh that shocks him so much he nearly drops her. Standing up on her own two feet, she gets her laughter under control and wipes the tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bass, I just thought that you looked like you needed to be rescued from that blonde chick."

First, he's releaved that she's not sick, but then he's angry that she scared him, then her words really sink in and he laughs.

"I should have known you were faking. 'It smelled funny.' Please, you're more familiar with alcohol than most adults."

She smirks. "Now we get the night off."

Bass slings an arm over her shoulder as they start the walk home. "So what do you want to do with it?" Charlie opens her mouth excitedly, but he quickly cuts her off. "But we are not putting manure in Neville's office again. He's still complaining about last time."

The fourth time Bass says it, it's more out of habit than anything else.

The visiting delegates from Texas have just arrived and the President is hosting them in the large dining room. Everything is going pretty well, the guy Texas sent - Blanchard is his name - is easy to get along with, and soon he, Bass, and Miles are joking around like old friends.

It's not until just after lunch that an urgent message arrives with a very harassed looking messenger. Bass takes the crumpled up note and scans it quickly, his blood running cold as he shoves it at Miles.

"I'm so sorry, General Blanchard, but Miles and I have an issue that needs our immediate attention." He looks around the room and spots Charlie who is looking back at him concernedly. "Why doesn't The First Lady give you a tour of the grounds while we handle it and we'll catch up soon, OK?"

Charlie catches the seriousness in his face and nods, standing up to take control of the situation instantly. At seventeen, she's all curves and lean muscle. Beautiful and confident, intelligent and strong. The young men around The Republic don't have to worry about her protective uncle, they simply cower at her feet. She smooths out her long, green dress and puts on her best charming smile. "Why don't we start in the gardens, they're absolutely beautiful this time of year."

Bass and Miles run to their office, grabbing officers along the way in order to deploy troops to their southern border immediately. Georgia has apparently thought that now would be a good time for a strike. It takes nearly an hour to get it all together, but with the orders sent out, there isn't much for them to do but return to their guests.

They find them in the downstairs hall. Charlie is sitting at the piano playing a beautiful melody while Blanchard's wife sings. When the women finish, Blanchard claps loudly, Bass and Miles join in. Mrs. Blanchard blushes but Charlie is looking to them for information about the emergency. Bass just shakes his head a little and she nods. She knows that they'll tell her later, but for now, they have guests to entertain.

The fifth time Bass does it, he knows that she won't mind.

Burried under a mountain of paperwork, Bass groans and rubs at his temples. What he really needs is for all of this stuff to sign itself, but since that isn't likely to happen, he plows on well into lunch until a newbie officer pokes his head into the office.

"Uh, sir?"

Without looking up from the tax report he's reading, Bass responds. "Mhmm?"

"Major Neville and Captain Baker said that they need to speak to you about the new training camp."

Bass sighs and looks up at the poor newbie who must have drawn the short straw to interrupt him. "What about it?"

"I'm not exactly sure, sir. They both just keep screaming at each other."

Typical. He'd be willing to bet that whatever it is, Tom probably thinks he's right and Jeremy knows he's wrong. Bass sighs again. He really doesn't have time for this.

"Do me a favor and have The First Lady handle it. She'll know what to do."

Now anyone else in the house would have known what that meant, but the poor newbie wasn't really in on the running jokes in Independence Hall.

"First Lady, sir?"

Bass frowns at his confusion, then laughs when he realizes that the kid is wondering who is wife is. "I mean Charlie, she can handle it."

"Oh, right. I'll get right on it, sir."

Later, when Charlie slouches into the living room she smacks Bass on the back of the head before slumping into the chair next to the couch where Miles is snoring loudly.

"That poor guy looked so confused, Bass. He kept calling me Mrs. Monroe. It took me about twenty minutes to explain it to him."

Bass chuckles and sets aside the book he'd been reading. "How'd it go with Jeremy and Tom?"

Rolling her eyes, Charlie gets up to snag a drink from the bar. "It went fine. No different than refereeing when you and Miles get into it."

She hands him a glass of whiskey on her way back to her chair. She's eighteen now, nineteen next month, and has become quite the extraordinary woman. Bass and Miles both depend on her for support on everything from moral issues to battle strategies. She's their go-to person whenever one of them needs something.

"Yeah, I figured you'd be able to handle it."

She nods, laughing. "I don't know what you guys are going to do when I leave. Who's gonna do all the stuff you guys don't want to?"

Bass starts to laugh, but stops as her words sink in. "Leave? Where are you going?"

But she merely smiles good naturedly and sips her drink. "Nowhere right this second, but I can't stay here forever, Bass. I'll have to move out someday."

"No you don't," he adds quickly. "No one wants you to leave."

She laughs. "I know that, but I highly doubt that my future husband will want to live in the same house as my uncle." She points at the snoring Miles with a significant look.

"Oh."

It's all he can think to say. Of course Charlie would get married someday. It just hadn't occurred to him that that would mean she would be leaving. Leaving Independence Hall and her Uncle Miles. Leaving him.

He realizes that he doesn't like that idea one bit.

The sixth time Bass calls her The First Lady, he fully intends for it to be the last time that it isn't actually her title.

It's very early in the morning, but the excitement is too much for Bass to bear. If he has to wait one more second, he might literally explode.

The door of Charlie's bedroom flings open at his touch and he stops, suddenly feeling very nervous, but he pushes it away and moves closer to the bed where she's sleeping soundly. Her golden blonde hair is splayed around her head like a halo, her skin gleaming in the morning sunlight. He sits down on the edge of her bed, the motion making her stir awake. She blinks up at him sleepily, then sits up, suddenly wide awake.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," he assures her. They fall into silence and Charlie stares at him.

"Bass, what's going on?"

"Nothing, can't I just come wish you a happy birthday?"

She looks over at the window, the rising sun casting rays of orange light across her face. "Yeah, but it's so early," she whines.

Bass looks away from her, his stomach churning uncomfortably. "I know, I'm sorry."

Something in his tone must clue her in, because she lays a hand on his cheek and gently turns him to face her. "Bass, tell me what's wrong."

The first words out of his mouth are the ones he's been thinking about for the past month. "I can't lose you, Charlie."

"Bass, I'm not going anywhere-"

"No... I mean..." And then he pulls the ring from his pocket. He'd bought it the day after she'd told him that she would have to leave someday. "I mean, I can't lose you to someone else."

Charlie stares wide eyed at the silver band with its glittering diamond and starts breathing heavily.

"So..." Bass looks uncertainly into her wide eyes. "Will you be my First Lady?"

She swallows hard, the sound audible in the silent room. Bass waits patiently for her to speak but nothing is coming out of her mouth even though her lips are moving. Eventually, Charlie nods and holds out her hand so he can slip the ring onto her finger.

"Really?" He asks in disbelief, which seems to break her spell of silence as she launches herself at him and wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"It's about time, you idiot," she says against his neck. And as Bass wraps his arms around his soon to be wife he can't help but think she's absolutely right.