Set after Austin City Limits, and based on promo, sort of... Charloe.

Charlie swayed through the slender tree trunks of the scrappy forest she had found herself in, watching the way the moon sliced shadows of midnight with their trunks, black against the whitewashed ground.

She had drunk too much, she realised, stumbling a little, uncaring. What did it matter anyway? What did any of it matter. So what if she got wasted, alone and hopeless, in a run down bar in the back of beyond, while her uncle slept around his campfire with his men.

Would they ever get back to Willoughby? She wondered, accidentally shouldering a tree, and staggering back a little, before leaning forward and forging on. She was dreading seeing her mother's face. She didn't want to share, she didn't want to have a mother daughter heart to heart and cry about having to kill her ex-boyfriend.

Because he had never really been a boyfriend, and they had never really stood a chance, and Rachel had never really known him, and she would just say all the wrong things and make it worse. No, he had never really been her boyfriend, but she had loved him, or she thought she had then, and she had cared about him, and… she had killed him.

A snapping twig underfoot brought her up short, as she heard the click of a gun being cocked. She swallowed heavily, feeling her senses shot to alarm, sluggish and slow.

"Hands up, where I can see them" a voice warned, and she slowly complied, turning around. Tom Neville was standing before her, his gun in hand, pointed right at her chest. He was staring at her wildly, his eyes bloodshot, unshaven. He looked like a man on the edge. She could understand, she realised as she waited for him to speak. She was becoming fairly familiar with the edge herself.

"Where is my son?" Tom demanded, and Charlie stared at him, her eyes close to that familiar sting of tears again.

She couldn't speak. Jason had died in her arms, and taken all her words, all her breath with him. He had taken the little light that remained in her world, and snuffed it out, and she wondered how long it took a body to stop moving, even after it has died, and wondered when hers would too.

"Tell me girl, or I swear to god, I'll put a bullet between your eyes" Tom spat, stepping closer with the gun.

She felt he world slow in that moment, the moonlight heighten, her heart beat more purely. This was it, she wasn't going to lie. She would absolve herself of her sins, and be free. She stepped closer, a tear already running down her cheek.

"He's dead… he's dead, and I killed him." She whisper, a harsh sob stealing her last words. Tom's face tightened, a death mask of shock and pain. His hand gripped his gun, as he slammed forward, against her. She felt a tree hit her back, and her breath fly out of her as sobs stared to gather, untameable in her chest.

"You are lying…" he whispered, menacing, his mouth by her ear, his gun to her temple, the tree hard against her back. She spat out a hard sob, a cough, a cry, ugly and inhuman. She was shaking her head without realising it, and as Tom leaned away, he searched her face.

"Tell me you're lying" he demanded, his eyes tracking her tears, the hopelessness of her eyes, his tone lacking urgency, pleading with her almost.

"I can't" she whispered, caving in, air sucking out. She leaned against him, as he took the news rigidly, his eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder. She cried, let her tears fall on his shoulder, and he let her, strangely connected, enemies who share something, united by a grief so sudden and unwanted. She felt when he collected himself, when the Neville mask fell back into place, as it was accompanied by the cool feel of steel at her temple. She drew in a shuddering breath as he slowly pushed her head back against the tree, using the gun. She was confronted by a father who has just lost a son, and his look tore into her anew.

"You killed my boy?" he shouted roughly, and she nodded, her eyes caught in his.

"You killed my boy? Do you even know what he felt for you?" Tom demanded, sending a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks.

"I'm…I'm so sorry…" she breathed, speaking made impossible by the sobs in her chest.

"Oh, you're sorry" Tom barked, his face twisted in a manic look of glee, horrifying in itself.

"You think it's something that can be forgiven?" he asked, driving her head back against the tree hard again. She slowly shook her head, her eyes once again caught in his.

"No… It can't be. I know… I can't… I don't want to be forgiven" she breathed, and without pausing to think, she reached her hand for his, and even as he tensed against her attack, her fingers pressed his gun harder into her temple. He frowned at her, unsure of her meaning.

"Do it.. just do it… for Jason. Do it for Jason" she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Tome grabbed her shoulder, and brought the gun around to her forehead, pressing it in there, as his eyes burned into hers. The moment seemed to drawn out, and she felt like she could count her heartbeats. She thought it would hurt more, preparing to die, and knowing that death was imminent. But it didn't hurt, in fact, it was a relief.

She wished she could see her mom, tell her that she loved her, and she always had, no matter what had happened between them. Tell Aaron how much she admired him, and how much she'd miss him. She wished she could warn Conner, not to change too much, and not to forget the man his mother had made him. She wished she could tell his crazy father that she had forgiven him, that he had come to mean more to her than she could ever let him know, and she thought a whole more about him than she should. She wished she could tell Miles that being with him, had made her feel like her father had been watching over her, and that she wanted him to be with Rachel and for them to be happy.

Mostly she wished the world would get better for the people she was leaving behind, wished them happiness, and safety, and love.

She took that last breath, and nodded, and waited…. And waited.

"Drop it Tom. Drop it now" Monroe's voice was cold as it called to them, jarring them from the world they had gone to, created for the two of them, and the memory of him, joined by loss and vengeance.

Eventually, her heart strangely calm now, she opened her eyes, and saw Tom still before her, his strong face crumpled.

"I failed my boy ever day of his miserable life. His curse was having me as a father… he was better than I deserved, and I destroyed him, wore him down, burnt him out. I never did a damn thing worth mentioning for that kid… nothing he ever asked me to, anyway… " He was muttering, and suddenly surprised her by lifting his gun away.

"Neville, I will shoot, drop it" Monroe was closer now, she could see him circling around behind Tom, his eyes intent on the back of his former Major's head, his strong arms taut with tension as they held his handgun out, unwavering.

"But, he did once ask me to spare you… and – I'm gonna keep that promise. Not for you. For my boy." Tom said, seeming to barely notice Monroe, standing back, finally letting her body fall forward, and she sagged forward. There was the sound of a struggle, and she pushed herself up.

She saw Monroe trying to get hold of the older man, and started forward.

"Let him go… just – let him go" Monroe had Neville in a choke hold now, his gun on the floor, and was now focused on him, his eyes wearing his most intense look yet. Monroe the serial killer.

"Stop it! Just let him go" she cried, coming to them and pulling at his arm, which barely moved.

"He tried to kill you!" Monroe snarled, looking over at her, his eyes feral, his lip vicious as it curled over his teeth. She knew the look, he wanted blood.

"But he didn't. Just stop it" she reasoned again, and then dropped down and picked up Tom's fallen gun as Monroe refused to budge. She brought it up and pointed it at his head. He didn't noticed, so absorbed was he in choking the life out of the man in his arms.

"Sebastian Monroe, if you don't stop it now… I'll shoot" she said, punctuating her threat with a loud click of the gun, readying it to fire. He turned to look at her in shock, and Neville took advantage of the moment, elbowing him in the gut. Monroe bent over, wheezing, and Neville took off, running into the night, without a backward glance.

Charlie dropped the gun to the ground and watched Monroe gathering himself.

"What the hell?" he growled as his blue eyes flashed up at her. She shrugged and turned away from him, starting back in the direction she had been heading.

"Charlie… what the hell is going on?" he was demanding, appearing at her side.

"Nothing."

"That wasn't nothing… he almost shot you, and you almost let him." Monroe pulled her roughly to a stop. They stood quietly like that, as she avoided his eyes and his chased hers.

"Well, he didn't."

"No thanks to you…"

"Whatever"

"No, not whatever… do you have a death wish Charlotte? Is that what this is?" he asked angrily.

"You don't understand –"

"Like hell I don't."

"Why do you care?" she suddenly asked, looking up at him. He was silent a long moment, before speaking carefully.

"What do you think dying is going to do to Miles? Or your mom? Do you want to put them through that? You're being selfish" he said calmly, and his questions sent a shoot of hot frustration through her. She brushed his arm off hers, and started walking.

"Hey, I'm talking to you" Monroe exclaimed angrily behind her, reaching out and pulling her to a stop. She jerked away and kept walking, changing direction as he started after her. He followed her a moment, before throwing his hands up in frustration and grabbing hold of her, his strong hands steel bands on her wrists.

"Charlie… talk to me" he said, leaning down, trying to see her face, hidden behind her curtain of hair. She shook her head silently, hiding her eyes, which felt once again like spilling over. He sighed and stood there, holding her still, seeming unsure of what to say. Finally, she felt the sadness in her chest start to leak out, like a slow seeping gunshot wound, dripping down her chest and onto the floor, stealing her life force with it. Her shoulders started to shake, and then, unable to prevent it, a stray sob escaped. Monroe tensed, realising what was happening.

"It's alright, just… let it go… get it out" he murmured, as he suddenly pulled her closer, into the cage of his arms, and tucked her face tight against his chest, resting his chin on top of it, his hands stroking long circles down her back.

And she did. She cried, and let that emptiness, placed there by him, for him, in his memory, bleed out. She cried for how hopeless her life was, she cried for everyone she had lost, and she cried for the piece of herself she had lost, in an abandoned office in Austin, never to be found.

"He never would have wanted to hurt you Charlotte… you had no choice, and he'd have been the first to agree" he was saying, and she leant away, and looked up into his face, so close now.

"Well, maybe I don't want to live in a world where those are the choices… maybe I can't anymore… I can't lose anyone else… I can't survive it" she whispered, meeting his blue eyes, as they stared down on her tear-streaked face.

"You have to …you can't give up… people depend on you… people need you…I know what loss is Charlie, and it never goes away… so, you need something to think of everyday… think of the people who need you"

"Who do you think of?"

"Connor… Miles… and you" he said the last quietly, so quietly, she was sure she'd imagined it for a moment.

"Why me?"

"To help me remember… to remind me of what I'm fighting for, who I'm fighting to give a better life to" she sighed, leaning into his arms as he finished speaking, still caught by his mesmerising stare. In that long moment, something shifted between them. Suddenly, she was aware of his arms around her, his hands on the small of her back, rough fingers glancing the band of bare skin there. His face was suddenly so close, she could barely take it all in. And his eyes, those eyes that always seemed aware of her, that never missed anything, they had dropped to her lips, and now lingered there, with a look of longing, impossible to ignore.

She knew that allowing her own eyes to drop to his own mouth, that would be the end of it, the end of their unspoken resolve not to make things more complicated than it should be, the end of their mutual denial.

"We should get back" she said suddenly, and saw the look of disappointment flash over his features, so fleeting it was almost indistinguishable. He stepped back, and offered her a hand when she swayed a little. Together they walked in silence toward the camp, the close call heavy in both their minds.

"What are you even doing out here anyway?"

"Looking for you, naturally" he replied easily enough. They walked on, the long grass swishing around their legs, the insects their orchestra as they neared the camp.

"Thanks" she said suddenly, glancing over at him. He gave her a lopsided grin, watching her approach her mother, sleeping around the campfire. It was the first time she'd ever thanked him for saving her life, he thought wryly as he followed her into camp.

It wasn't much, but maybe it was a start.