A/N: This is a one-shot, an epilogue of sorts, about Monroe and Charlie that takes place immediately after the series finale of "Revolution." After I cried myself to sleep at the show's conclusion, I woke up early in the morning and this came to me. Inspired by A Great Big World's "Say Something." This fic is unrelated to my ongoing "Heartbeat" saga.

Charlie hesitated, unsure of her outfit. Her mom had helped her pick out the meadow green sundress and chocolate brown cowboy boots. She had so rarely worn a dress; she didn't know how to feel about it.

"Get a grip," she told herself. She proudly lifted her head and sauntered into the barn. She was Charlotte Matheson after all and she had helped bring down the patriots. She deserved to enjoy tonight.

To celebrate the victory, the townspeople of Austin had organized a barn dance. The guests of honor were Miles and Monroe for leading the charge and freeing them from patriot control.

Charlie spotted Miles across the dance floor and he was actually grinning from ear to ear, a beer in hand. Her mom was at his side and she, too, looked happy. Charlie smiled to herself. Miles had apparently taken her advice.

Looking around the barn, Charlie casually sought out Monroe in the throng of Texans. She wouldn't be surprised if he was surrounded by a flock of women. He seemed to draw them like moths, especially now that he was being heralded as the new leader of Texas.

A couple of young men approached her and jostled with one another to be the first to dance with her. Charlie covered her mouth to keep from laughing, her eyes sparkling. She granted each of them an opportunity to spin her around, after warning them she'd never danced before. All the boys nearly tripped over themselves offering to teach her.

She quickly caught onto the simple two-step and before long she felt like the belle of the ball. After several dances, she feigned exhaustion and warded off additional invitations, citing that she needed a break and scooted off the dance floor towards the drink table alone.

As she sipped her beer, Charlie more sensed his presence than saw him when Monroe appeared at her side.

"Did you save me a dance?" he gravelly whispered in her ear. Her stomach suddenly quaked with butterflies at his closeness. The unexplained chemistry between them sparked. She took another swig of her beer and faced him.

Damn, he was a sight for sore eyes, she thought. His hair was curlier than ever and he was dressed in a crisp button down shirt that matched his eyes, freshly pressed dark blue jeans and tan boots.

"The question is, can you spare a dance for me?" Charlie teased. She motioned toward the gaggle of ladies standing nearby swooning over him. "I wouldn't want to take away from your adoring fans having the chance."

Monroe refrained from rolling his eyes. He had been watching her for a while now, jealousy stirring as Charlie switched dance partners one after another. He had politely turned down each woman who had asked him to dance. The moment the secret object of his affection exited the dance floor he had excused himself.

Ignoring everyone else around them, Monroe gently removed the beer from Charlie's hand and guided her toward the dance floor. He pulled her into his arms and she automatically looped her arms around his neck.

"You look beautiful tonight, Charlotte," he said. Charlie furiously blushed.

"I bet you say that to all the gals, General," she breathily responded, trying to force herself to calm down. Her body was reacting to his close proximity.

"Only you," Monroe softly chided.

Oh boy, Charlie thought distractedly, as she nearly stepped on his feet. Monroe pulled her even closer to keep her from stumbling. They locked eyes. Charlie knew she was going to drown at this rate if she didn't stop this madness.

She looked away and saw Miles and her mom making their way to the stage where the band was playing. Her mom was giggling like a teenager as Miles leaned in the direction of one of the fiddle players to request a song.

"I want you to help me lead Texas," Monroe said, drawing her attention back to him. Stunned, Charlie stopped in mid-step, wide-eyed.

"You and I make a good team," he explained with a smirk, "not to mention you have deadly aim with that crossbow."

By now they were standing in the middle of the dance floor as couples twirled around them.

"What about Miles? Shouldn't you be asking him?" Charlie said. Monroe shook his head.

"He and your mom are planning to return to Chicago and settle down," he replied. "He's had his fill of leading the war. Besides, I would much rather have you by my side."

Charlie didn't know what to say, her mind racing at the revelation. Monroe knew he had stepped out on a limb so he decided to lay it all on the line.

"Stay with me, Charlotte," he said.

As the kerosene lamps burned low and the band began to pack up, Monroe and Charlie made a final lap around the barn, saying goodnight to the remaining partygoers. Miles and Rachel had already escaped into the night.

Charlie shyly accepted Monroe's hand to walk toward the main house. Without question, she glided past her room as he led her to his own.

Once he closed the bedroom door, he drew her into his arms and kissed her.

It was a new experience for Charlie. All her sexual encounters had been hard and fast — at her insistence — so she had nothing to measure this against. This kiss was soft and gentle. She felt like she was melting.

Monroe broke the kiss to lay his forehead on hers. They were both breathless.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he said.

Charlie mutely gazed at him.

It was almost unsettling, for she had never known Monroe to be so tender. The man she knew was rough around the edges, a harsh scrappy fighter who had murder on his mind most of the time.

Monroe searched her face for a moment before releasing her to step back and sit on the edge of the bed. He knew he was probably overwhelming her; heck, he wasn't even sure himself what he was doing.

He reached out to her, motioning she come to him. She tentatively stepped forward, her shins pressing against his knees.

"Say something," Monroe pleaded as his thumbs caressed the knuckles of her hands.

Charlie was at a loss for words. There wasn't a coherent thought in her head. She had never felt this way before.

Now here she was in the presence of the great General Sebastian Monroe like a nervous virgin.

She wanted him. There was no denying it anymore. She thought she had needed Jason. She had slept with Connor for the hell of it. But truth was deep down she really desired, no craved, the man in front of her.

Monroe could see she was conflicted and sighed.

"I know I have no right to claim you, to ask you to stay," he resignedly said, sadness tinting his voice. "By every account you should hate me. Even more so you should be hooking up with someone your own age, settling down somewhere, anywhere, finding out who you are and what you want out of life."

In that instant, Charlie realized Monroe was offering her a chance to back out without regrets.

Her decision made, she straddled Monroe's lap and slid her arms over his shoulders, looking him square in the eye.

"I don't want anyone else and I don't want to be anywhere else," she simply said.

Monroe spent the rest of the night showing Charlie how a woman should be loved. The lovemaking was raw and intimate as he bore his soul to her in a way he hadn't with another woman since his wife Shelley died all those years ago.

Charlie eventually drifted asleep, thoroughly satisfied and lethargic with him protectively curled around her. Monroe stayed awake, unable to get enough of touching her, staring at her, breathing in her scent.

He couldn't believe the stunning creature in his bed was so willing to take him as he was despite all the ghosts haunting him from his past.

"I'll be the one if you want me to," he quietly said to her sleeping form, stroking her cheek. "I will stumble and fall. I'm still learning to love, just starting to crawl."

Monroe leaned down and pressed his lips to her temple.

"You're the one I love, Charlotte."