Disclaimer: I do not own Revolution.

Author's Note: I was discussing things with IronAmerica, the conversation turned to hot tubs and the theory that surely, General Monroe's got one of those stashed away somewhere, and then this happened. English is not my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know.

It has been a long day. A long week, actually. Month, even. He has been on edge since early this morning and he can feel it in his muscles, in his bones – tension like tiny tremors under his skin. But he's alone now, in this sparsely lit room with no windows. There's no one there to demand his attention, no one to ask his opinion. There is, for the next hour or so, nothing at all that he has to deal with, and he plans to enjoy this hour to the fullest. An hour may not be enough to wind down completely, but he sure as hell will try.

He discards the last of his clothing on the chair next to the tub, and climbs into the water. One leg first, then the other. He sits down, and a sigh escapes him. Bliss. There is a glass of whiskey waiting for him, next to his clothes. He reaches for the glass, takes a gulp, puts the glass back and closes his eyes while he's slowly sinking down into the hot water.

He takes a deep breath, almost a sigh; breathes in the warm air. He can feel it calm him down, and the thoughts of the failed interrogation from this morning and the irritation over the fact that he had to kill a man without getting the information he needed - those thoughts are just melting away now, he can feel it.

It's not that he enjoys killing, or causing pain. He doesn't. But he realizes that it's a means to an end, something that he has to do. A necessary evil. That is kind of how he sees himself, actually. A necessary evil. But not all the time. Right now, he doesn't feel very evil.

There are some herbs in the water to make it smell ... pleasant. It's calming. He sighs again, with contentment this time, and it is the only sound in the room. The candles make the dark room feel warmer, more alive, as the tiny flames flicker and cast dancing shadows on the walls. Not that he's watching them. He still has his eyes closed.

His thoughts, usually going a mile a minute, are slowing down. Things that have been bothering him lately suddenly don't seem that important anymore. The life he took this morning? It was a waste, sure, but unavoidable. The information he seeks? He'll find it, soon. It'll work out. It always does.

He shuts his brain off and refuses to think about anything other than the peace and quiet inside this room. The way the warm water moves over his skin when he reaches out, blindly, for the glass on the chair next to him. He fumbles, but finds it. Lifts the glass, takes a sip, rests his arm on the side of the tub and holds the glass against his chest - all without opening his eyes. He savours the taste, swallows and licks his lips. This ... this is his own piece of heaven.

Of course, that is when someone barges into the room. "General, sir, there's a situation with the …"

His eyes snap open without his permission, and the first thing he sees is a nervous figure in the doorway. The light from outside the room is bright, too bright, and it rips through his serenity like a sharp knife through cotton fabric. The worries are back, the problems, the irritation. He glares at the man who dared to interrupt his first bath in ... too long. Way too long. The man falters, seems to realize the error he's made. He starts to apologize. His eyes dart to the side and he swallows, seems to calculate the chances of him getting out before angering his General. Too late, though.

Said General continues to glare at the intruder as he stands up and climbs out of the tub. He puts the glass to his lips, throws it back and downs what's left in it before he saunters over to the man by the door, still stark naked and dripping water all over the floor. Not once does he break eye-contact.

The man in front of him may be taller than he is, but he is the General – the whole Republic is his- and he was just disturbed in his bath. This better be either really good or really bad, and the man - sweating now - knows it.

"Right", the General says with a deceptively neutral voice, "tell me." He holds up the glass to the light from outside, inspects it. "What was so important?"