A/N: This is part of the Charloe Xmas gift exchange. IceonFire, this one's for you! I did my best to keep this as a short one shot, but the second I got my prompt email, the wheels started to turn and I just couldn't stop it. This very long one snot is the end result. I assure you that this is a Christmas story, but like any good story, there's got to be some background there, so it really all begins with Thanksgiving. Without further ado, here is my Charloe fic gift to you (I proofed as best as I could, but I needed to get this up before it got any longer, so please forgive any errors…)

P.S. I will have my next chapter to Careful What You Wish For in a few days. I've been sidetracked by this story.

November 20, 2029

"Tell me again why you invited yourself on my hunting trip?" Charlie asked with annoyance as she led Sebastian Monroe through the woods. They were a good day's walk outside of Willoughby and she'd been seething ever since he'd shown up with his gear right as she was leaving.

"Because the last time you went hunting, you were gone for three days and barely made it back on a broken ankle," he snapped. She'd been griping since they'd left early that morning and he was at his wits end. He didn't bother mentioning that she'd only been giving the all clear by her grandfather just three days prior. "For some reason, Miles didn't think that you should be wandering around out here alone."

"I can take care of myself," she muttered as she continued to walk, scanning the forest floor for signs of game. Of course, just as she said it, she stumbled a little in the early morning light and he had to reach out to steady her before she fell. She knew she should have seen the root, but she was so aggravated with his presence that she'd missed it.

"Sure you can," he muttered under his breath as he released her. They'd cleared out of camp fairly early and had been walking around for at least an hour. "I don't know why you're so goddamned adamant about finding a fucking turkey anyway," he added.

Recognizing familiar landmarks, Charlie changed directions. "Because it's Thanksgiving and my mom wants a turkey, so she's going to get a turkey." She spoke with gritted teeth. And if I can't find one because of your constant yapping, I'm going to roast you instead! She added silently. "Now shut up. You're scaring all the game away."

Bass merely rolled his eyes at her and followed, scanning the ground for obstacles as he went. Charlie fancied herself an expert when it came to traipsing about the woods, tracking and hunting as she went. And, even when he was annoyed with her, he could still admit that she was pretty good—better than good when he wasn't so annoyed.

She seemed to forget, however that he wasn't exactly the city slicker she made him out to be. For all of her snide remarks about being a city boy, she never seemed to recall that he wasn't from Philadelphia. He was from Jasper, Indiana, which was a small town even before the blackout. Miles may not have been much for the outdoors but he'd spent a decent amount of time in the country growing up. That was one of the very few interests the two did not share in their younger years.

He'd done his fair share of hunting both before and after the blackout. He hadn't been one of those guys that never missed a season, but he'd gone a few times with his grandfather as a teenager and once or twice with his own father before he'd died. After the blackout, well he liked to eat so Bambi had to bite it for the cause.

Despite her constant bitching about how he was loud and would scare game away, he was just as capable as she of walking quietly when the situation called for it. He could also track an animal or person through the woods if he put his mind to it. It just so happened that he rarely cared enough to bother. He lived in town now and made enough to buy his food instead of shooting it. That didn't mean he couldn't. He'd tracked her to Pottsboro the previous fall, hadn't he?

A few hours later, Charlie finally saw what she was looking for. Bass had slowed down right before she'd seen of the turkey feather, telling her that he'd seen it before she had. This only seemed to rub salt in the wound that was his presence. She made a decision not to acknowledge that, however. The feather looked fairly new. It had rained the night before (much to their discomfort) and if it had been out here beforehand, it wouldn't have looked so perfect now.

There were tracks in the mud not too far from it as well. They crept along and soon came upon what she was looking for. There it was; a very large tom. She raised her crossbow and carefully took aim. As she prepared to take her shot, she became increasingly aware of the man that stood next to her. She saw him out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning up against a tree, looking quite bored really. For some reason this bothered her, although she didn't know why it should. Distracted, she took the shot and missed. The turkey startled and started to take flight.

"Now look what you made me do," she snapped. Her blood was already boiling. She almost never missed, but the shot had been so far off it was almost embarrassing. Admit it, you're missed because he makes you nervous—he wouldn't if you'd stop acting like such a girl…

She watched the bird flee in frustration, jumping when his gun went off from behind her, the bullet sending the turkey to the ground. She whipped around and saw him standing there with his gun still raised. Her first reaction was to berate him for trying to shoot game with a handgun, but considering he'd taken the bird down while she had not, he'd only have another reason to rub it in.

He held a hand out, a silent invitation for her to collect the kill. When Charlie didn't budge, he merely shrugged and went to go retrieve it himself. Need glasses my ass, he thought as he picked it up. Charlie's grandfather had sworn he'd seen him squinting at the newspaper a few weeks ago and had been pestering him with a pair of readers ever since.

He dumped the animal at Charlie's feet. The bullet had taken its small head damn near clean off. "Can we go now? I've got a bar to run, and I'd rather not leave Stay-Puffed in charge any longer than I have to." In truth, he trusted Aaron to run things for him just fine. He was smart enough to keep track of the diamonds the bar brought in and honest enough not to rob him blind. He was just tired of her constant sniping at him, and had been questioning his own intelligence for volunteering to go with her since they'd left. I never know when to leave well enough alone…

They got back to Willoughby late the next afternoon. They'd seen another bird and her aim had been true the second time around, so all in all it was a successful trip. Both birds were large and would be more than enough. In fact, if it wasn't for her pride, Charlie wouldn't have even bothered with the second one. It wasn't like they could refrigerate the leftovers, after all. Still, there was bound to be someone that could use the extra meat—it wouldn't go to waste.

She'd barely spoken to him on the entire way back. Bass hadn't been sure if that had made him happy or served to irritate him more. Strangely enough, he suspected it was a little bit of both—not that had made any sense. Of course, she'd made him carry both kills just because she could. He'd accepted the task out of masculine pride, but they'd started to get heavy.

November 22, 2029, Thanksgiving Day

Much to Charlie's relief, dinner had gone exceedingly well and her mother was ecstatic. Miles had made more than one joke about how Rachel Matheson was the only person he knew that could make the day more stressful than it had ever been before the power went out. That had gotten him smacked every time he'd said it, of course.

Deep down, Charlie didn't see what the big deal was. Her father had always insisted on celebrating the day, even though it hadn't been recognized by the Monroe Republic. Still, they rarely had even had turkey for the occasion. The bird wasn't as plentiful up north as it was in Texas and until she'd gotten old enough to go hunting there hadn't been anyone really interested in taking the time to track one, either. She'd have been just as happy with a deer, really—those were more plentiful than turkeys at least. Still, it made her happy to give her mother something so simple. After all the war and turmoil, they deserved to have a good day.

The Pittmans had joined them and it had been nice to be together as a family. Now that dinner was done, everyone was gathered in the living room for an after dinner drink; everyone except Miles, which was unusually considering that the activity included alcohol. Charlie had snuck off and was headed into the kitchen to sneak a second piece of the pie that Priscilla had brought when she saw Miles there packing up some food and shoving it into a backpack. "Oh, there you are," he said as he zipped it up.

"What are you doing?" she asked. In the morning, she'd take some of the leftovers to the families that her mother had designated as being the most in need when she headed back home to her meager loft on the main drag in town.

"Listen, I know you didn't plan on going home until morning, but I was wondering if you'd do me a favor," he asked as he offered her a very rare smile.

Charlie knew that look. He was going to ask her for something he knew she wouldn't like. "Okay," she replied, cautiously.

"Can you take this over to Bass at the bar?"

"Excuse me? Um, why?" The second he mentioned the man, she felt her blood boil.

"Because it's Thanksgiving, and he's alone." After the war had ended, Connor had never returned. Despite all of their best efforts no trace had ever been found. "And because he deserves it, considering he did help you kill one of the turkeys."

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him. "How..?"

"Come on Charlie. There's only a handful of people in Texas dumb enough to try and hunt with a 9mm. And Bass is probably the only person in Texas that's a good enough shot to actually pull it off." Of course he'd seen the bullet wound with only a quick glance at one of the animals. It was hard to miss considering the bird was missing most of its head.

"If he's all lonesome, why didn't you just invite him?" she asked, feeling quite put out.

"Yeah, cause that would have gone over well." He handed off the bag to her. "Please?"

She reluctantly took it. "Fine, but you owe me," she said as she grabbed her jacket from the hook by the back door.

"Oh, and Charlie?" He waited for her to stop and turn around. "Listen, he doesn't handle the holidays well—especially this one, so take it easy on him."

"Why does have a problem with Thanksgiving?" she asked, curious.

"Because that's when they all died—his family." He'd lowered his voice, even though he wasn't there to overhear. Bass had never gotten over the loss and the topic was off limits. Anything that reminded him of them tended to send him into a downward spiral that left him depressed on a good day, downright crazy on bad ones.

Miles knew he didn't have to tell her to keep that piece of information to herself. Her errand would not go well if she did. He'd spent most of the day thinking about Bass was likely holed up, all alone and miserable. It wouldn't have been appropriate to include him, but he still felt guilty for the exclusion now. He'd fought just as hard as the rest of them to eradicate the Patriots, but for him there was no happy ending—not like the Mathesons had gotten, anyway. He'd gotten a full pardon and a sort of reluctant acceptance from the people of Willoughby, but that was it really. And, in the end, it had cost him his son.

As Charlie walked the distance to the bar, she considered the man she was being forced to deliver food to. She knew that he often hid his loneliness by going out of his way to be an asshole, but she'd never understood the depth of that loss. She'd overheard Miles mention a woman once—Shelly. Bass had gotten pissed and had literally thrown himself at her uncle.

This had been during the war and two of their men had been forced to drag him off of Miles. He'd been drunk at the time and Miles had blown it off, but she'd wondered what had caused that reaction. When she'd asked, Miles had only told Charlie that she was someone that had been important to the man and that she'd died. That seemed to be the common theme in his history—everybody died. That was something she could relate to. It made her feel for him, even though she kept lying to herself and saying that she didn't.

Across town…

Bass sat at the table in the corner in his bar. This had been Marion's place. Texas had paid him well for his services during the war and he'd used a chunk of his earnings to buy the bar from her third-cousin, Martin. The man had been her only next of kin and so it had gone to him when she passed. Considering he lived in Austin, he hadn't wanted it so he'd let it go for a good price.

Bass live a simple, if not slightly boring life now. He ran the bar and had over the past few months become obsessed with brewing new ales and distilling different blends of whiskey. Most of what he made was fairly decent—who could have known that he'd be almost as good at making booze as he was at drinking it? He'd briefly entertained the idea of going back east and looking for the remnants of his militia, but without Connor around, his heart really hadn't been in it. He didn't really have anywhere else to go, so he'd stayed in Willoughby, tended his bar and tried to keep a low profile.

Alone, with only one small lantern lit he slouched in his chair with his feet propped up on the table and a glass in his hand. He took another drink and tried not to think about the fact that here it was, the first official Thanksgiving (fucking Texas and their stupid holidays) since the blackout and here he was, all alone. It may have been par for the course for him, but it didn't make it any less pathetic. Who needs turkey dinners when you own 75% of the booze in town?

He heard the door open. The latch on the inside was busted and he had to lock it from without. He'd been meaning to get it fixed, but hadn't quite gotten around to it. This evening, he figured no one would be about, so he hadn't bothered locking it from the outside before going back in the back entrance. "We're closed," he said, his tone emphasizing his sour mood.

"Whatever," Charlie said as she shut the door behind her. "Crab-ass," she muttered under her breath.

"If it isn't little Charlotte Matheson," he said as he refilled his glass. "And to what do I owe this honor?" He knew that the use of her full name drove her nuts, and he was just feeling ornery enough to use it for that purpose. So did any reference to her youth. She practically bristled when Miles called her 'kid'.

"Miles asked me to bring this to you," she said flatly as she dropped the bag on the table in front of him. She couldn't help but note that he looked a bit rough. Miles certainly hadn't been lying. By the looks of him, Bass was not handling the holiday well at all.

Curious, he slid his feet to the floor and sat up to investigate. He opened the backpack and looked inside to see Miles' version of a Thanksgiving care package. He shook his head at it. Leave it to Miles to be thoughtful and find a way to make him feel shittier all at the same time. "Tell him he didn't have to bother. It's just another Thursday."

Charlie fought the urge to smack him for his rude rejection of the gesture. Then again, it was his way. The more vulnerable he felt, the more he lashed out. He was the wild animal that snarled when it was wounded before running away to hide. So, instead of giving him a piece of her mind, she took a deep breath, counted to ten and pretended that she didn't care one way or another. "What, no tip for the delivery?" she asked, arching her brow at him. Secretly, she was proud of her pre-blackout delivery boy reference (that she'd picked up in a book recently, thank you very much).

"Here's one. Don't let your uncle sucker you into delivering food to crabby old drunks," he scoffed. Still, he got up and went behind the bar to fetch a second glass. He returned a few minutes later and poured her a drink. "Well, have a seat then," he said under his breath when she just stood there.

Three hours later…

"God, you think she was bad today, just wait until next month—I'm sure your mom will be a peach on Christmas," Bass said with a chuckle as he opened another bottle.

"I can't wait," she drawled. She was well on her way to being plastered. At first she'd just intended on enjoying her nice free drink. She'd just been about to get up when she remembered why Miles had sent her here in the first place. He was alone on the holiday because he didn't have a soul to spend it with. So instead of getting up and heading back to her loft or her back mom's place, she'd held her glass out and waited for him to refill it.

They'd only had a few moments like this over the past year; moments where they weren't griping at each other. She'd forgotten that he could be amusing when he wanted to be. Maybe it was the alcohol that had mellowed him this evening, or maybe he was just happy to not be brooding in his whiskey alone. For whatever reason, the crudeness had fallen way just a little and he hadn't said a single nasty remark at her expense.

"I'll have you know she was already making plans for it after dinner tonight. I'm considering pretending we're not family until after New Year's just to save myself. I think she's trying to make up for all the years she wasn't there with this one Christmas," she joked. The moment those words left her mouth, her drunken mind realized her blunder. There was a momentary flash of pain on his features before the sardonic grin returned. "I'm sorry, that was stupid of me." Way to go Charlie! Make him feel even worse.

"No, that's okay." He said. "Not everybody has what you have. That's just life."

They both fell silent as he refilled their glasses. He picked his up and took a drink. "So tell me, what does Charlie want for Christmas this year?" he asked, doing his best to play it all off and to recover the aloof sarcastic air he held onto like a lifeline. Lighten up. She didn't mean anything by it.

Charlie shifted in her chair, leaning on the table. The way he'd said her name just now sent shivers down her spine. Only he could make her nickname sound so—suggestive. The room was starting to spin just a little and she knew she should be going before she said something else stupid or even worse, passed out in front of him. "Snow," she said after a moment.

"Really?" He'd just been messing with her, really (and in his raw and drink addled state, he might have been making a very small pass at her). He hadn't expected her to answer.

"When we were kids, Danny and I used to love snow around Christmas. Since we were in Wisconsin, there was usually at least a little on the ground. Dad and Maggie always insisted that we celebrate a little, even if things were tight. They gave me my first crossbow for Christmas when I was fifteen."

She spent several minutes talking about them all; putting ribbons on the tree that her father always insisted on cutting down and bringing home each year, handmade presents and sitting next to the fireplace while Maggie told them about some tradition or another. Sitting in the window on Christmas Eve with Danny and watching the snow fall when they were lucky enough for a true white Christmas.

The whole time she talked, she didn't realize how much those memories wounded him. Those things were gone forever, and it was really his fault. Still, he listened to her, fascinated by the way that she spoke about them with him. They both knew what had happened, and yet she could bring up her memories without the resentment he'd expect.

"What was Christmas like for you growing up?" she asked when she realized she'd been babbling on for quite some time.

Bass took an unsteady breath. "Well, for one my mother was about as nuts when it came to the holidays as yours. She had boxes of crap that she made us help her put out—everything labeled so perfectly. She must have had five crates of ornaments. The Marines could have learned a thing or two from her about organization." He smiled sadly as he thought about them.

"We always had to have a real tree, never a fake one. God forbid anyone tried to open a present on Christmas Eve; and if I recall correctly, I think she threatened to murder me when I was a senior in high school and let it slip to my youngest sister that there wasn't really a Santa Clause."

Charlie giggled as she tried to picture him being that young, to no avail. When he raised his brows at this, she blushed. "And what does Bass want for Christmas?" she asked, mimicking his earlier question.

"All those other Christmases back," he said as he started to rise. He was drunk enough to speak so openly, but sober enough to be embarrassed by it. "It's late and you're trashed. I'll walk you home," he offered.

Charlie realized that she'd accidently hit another nerve. She knew better than to argue, so she stood up unsteadily and followed him to the door. It only took a few minutes to reach her place. A bit dizzy, she couldn't quite get the door unlocked. She stabbed at the deadbolt with her key for several minutes before he finally took it out of her hand and did the honors for her. "Thank you, and thanks for the walk home," she slurred.

"Anytime." He opened the door for her so she could go inside, out of the cold. "Oh and Charlie? Thanks for the food, and the company," he said as she turned to close it behind her.

"Anytime," she echoed. He took a step back and she closed the door and locked it. She hurried up the stairs to her loft. Unable to help herself, she peeked out the window. He was still standing there, looking up towards her window. She was sure he couldn't see her, but it was almost like he could sense that she was looking at him.

A few hours ago…

Miles Matheson is carrying a large box of food, per Rachel's instructions across town. They'd intended to wait until the morning, but Rachel had suddenly gotten a bug up her ass about it going bad, so here he is carrying it to several different families in town that have had trouble making ends meet since the end of the war.

He peeks inside the window to the bar, and sees Bass and Charlie sitting with drinks. It looks like they are both laughing. Feeling very pleased with himself, Miles continues on his way so he can complete his errand and go back home. "My good deed for the day," he says as he disappears down the sidewalk, whistling a random tune.

December 17, 2029

Over the course of the next few weeks, things shifted between Charlie and Bass in ways that had surprised them both. She'd stopped whining so much when he was around and he made a concentrated effort to become a little less of a dick towards her. Granted, he'd always been that way for a reason, but since she'd stopped acting like he was the scum of the earth he found it harder to remind himself to continue to be a dick.

It really began just two days after Thanksgiving. He'd been at the market, haggling over the price for some spices he planned on using for a new batch of ale, when he happened to run into her. On a whim he mentioned that he had a new batch of whiskey that he was getting ready to bottle that evening and had asked her if she wanted to play guinea pig.

He always seemed to having something new in the works, and at first she'd questioned it. "I thought Miles was your lab rat," she'd said wryly.

"Yeah, well I learned pretty quickly that he doesn't have the most discriminating palate. If I want to know if it'll kill anyone, he's my go to guy. If I want to know if it's good, well I need someone else," he'd casually replied. "Interested or not?"

Of course she had been. They both knew it, and he wasn't sure why she'd even bothered pretending otherwise. "Lead the way, Jack Daniels," she'd replied.

Her reference had cracked him up. "Look who's picking up on pre-blackout references." She'd followed him to the bar and he showed her his still room below the building and they'd ended up getting just a little buzzed together.

From there he just always seemed to be around, and she stopped acting like she hated it. She got into the habit of stopping by the bar when it was slow. They'd share a few drinks and talk about nothing in particular. When her upstairs neighbor's carelessness had rendered her apartment a smoldering mess, he was the one that had helped her pick through the charred remains and move what was salvageable to the house Miles shared with her mother.

When she later learned that she got along with Rachel best when she didn't live with her, it was Bass that Charlie went to when she needed to vent. Somehow in those few short weeks they'd become friends. It was around this time that Bass finally admitted to himself that he'd kind of, sort of (maybe) fallen for her. There were things that had bothered him from day one, but he'd never understood why exactly before now. Seeing her with Connor had filled him with a sort of rage that he'd refused to recognize as jealousy at the time.

Of course the entire thing was ludicrous, so as December slowly passed, he did his best to repress those feelings—and failed miserably. He knew he should back up and let their relationship revert back to rude forced interactions on his part and reluctant whining on hers, but he just couldn't force himself to do it. He liked spending time with her. There were precious few things in life that brought him any measure of happiness and so he was incapable of denying himself the pleasure of her company.

To make it harder for him, Miles always seemed to be finding reasons for them to interact outside of their increasingly awkward friendship. His old friend knew that she hung out at his bar and that he accompanied her on her forays outside of town and he didn't really seem to mind. It was hard to remind himself to keep his thoughts out of the gutter when he began to wonder if Miles wouldn't kill him for it.

He'd gone to the rail yard to track down Aaron at his office/lab to get a sub for a day so he could go with Charlie to Crocket. When he happened to see a notice advertising new stops along the North/South rail line, his brain started to go on overtime. Aspen? Denver had made sense. Aspen? Not so much. Granted, the silver that was once more being mined there was reason enough to send people there, but it still wasn't exactly a major settlement. The entire trip to Crocket and back, his mind kept drifting back to that notice. By the time they got back to Willoughby, he'd come up with a ridiculous and yet brilliant plan.

December 17, 2029

Miles had managed to escape Rachel for a few hours and was spending it at the bar. It wasn't as if she'd specifically said she disproved of his spending time with Bass. It just happened that whenever she caught him at it, he didn't get laid for a few days and his dinner was always burnt.

Since coming home from the war, he now spent his days as the town's new sheriff. It was a position he'd taken with reluctance, but Rachel had pointed out if he was truly going to move on with his life, it would be an excellent place to start and after a few weeks, he decided that he enjoyed it well enough.

"Thanks again for going with Charlie to Crocket," he said as he raised his glass to his lips. He was currently enjoying one of Bass' new small batches. Despite his friend's claims of his inability to discern from one batch to the next, Miles knew what he liked—and this current blend, he liked. Since the man had started messing around with recipes, his business had steadily increased. Who knew that this was something he'd be so damned good at?

"My pleasure. It was nice to get away for a day, and Stay-Puffed has been pestering me for a few more shifts." Bass replied as he dried a few glasses with a towel. Aaron would never admit it, but working in the bar was far more entertaining to him than the work he did for Blanchard. Quite frankly, he wasn't even sure what the man did, but he thought it had something to do with improving the efficacy of the trains.

"The two of you seem to be getting along better lately," he commented.

"Me and Aaron?"

Miles chuckled at Bass' response. "No stupid, you and Charlie."

"We're not… We don't… I guess so," he stammered.

Miles couldn't help himself sometimes. "By the way, why was Charlie under the impression that I sent you to babysit her on her hunt for the elusive turkey?"

It took everything he had to bite back a frustrated groan. Busted… "I have no idea." All of the sudden, Bass decided he really needed a drink of his own. He grabbed another glass and spent way too much time picking out what he wanted to drink. He didn't make up his mind until he'd composed himself and Miles had decided to change the subject.

A few drinks later and Bass finally had enough liquid courage to put his very rash plans into action. "So, I got a letter today from a guy that served under me in the war. He has a still up for sale," he said casually to Miles. "Real nice pre-blackout stuff."

"What do you want another still for?" Miles asked. For some reason, he had a feeling Bass was about to ask him for a loan or something.

"To keep up with your whiskey consumption," he joked with a laugh. Really well put together stills were very hard to come by and they both knew it. "Actually, while Charlie was shopping I hit up that James Lerman guy that owns the bar there. He liked that bottle I sent him a few weeks back. Said he'd be interested in a case a month to start. Might be interested in a few barrels here and there if he can ever get his tap working, too."

"So you're going to start supplying your competition?"

"Good money in it." Bass said thoughtfully. They were getting off topic. "Anyway, this guy, he's been out in Cali since the war and his moving back east—Nebraska or something like that. He said he's willing to sell it for a decent price. He heard that I was running the bar now, so offered it up. He's taking a train to Aspen and then moving on after a day for Nebraska. Said I can meet up with him if I want it. If not, he'll sell it when he gets to Nebraska."

"Do trains even go to Aspen?" Miles asked.

"As of last month they do. I might need some help with the thing. Wanna hitch a train with me?" Please say no, please say no. As much fun as he would have going on the road with Miles, it would sort of ruin his plans.

Miles shook his head. "You know that's not gonna fly, Bass. I've got work and Rachel will flip out."

Thank you Rachel! "Come on, you're gonna let Rachel stop you from helping out a friend? One that's known you since you were five?" He knew if he just gave up, Miles would be suspicious.

"Why don't you ask Aaron?" Miles suggested. "There's no way. If I went with you to Aspen right when Rachel's in the middle of the Christmas plans from hell, I'd never get laid again. I'd have to kill you, and this time, I'd go through with it."

"Gee, thanks a lot pal. I can't ask him; I'll need him to run the bar for me." He sat back and let Miles mull his words over a bit, trying his best to look disappointed and annoyed. "What about Charlie?"

"Charlie?" He watched Bass over the rim of his glass. "You know what? That might not be such a bad idea."

"Huh? I mean, "Really?" He was more than a little surprised that this was the reaction he'd gotten. "I was just kidding."

He is so pathetic… Miles plucked the bottle up off the bar and helped himself to another drink. "No, think about it. She's handy when it comes to trouble—which happens to follow you around everywhere you go. Plus she doesn't really have anything going on right now, and her mom is driving her nuts with this whole Christmas thing." Miles took another sip of his whiskey and then went for the kill. "Plus it'll give Rachel and me some time to ourselves. I know it hasn't even been two weeks since she moved in after the fire, but you know how high strung Rachel gets."

"Not something I want to hear… ever," Bass grumbled.

His friend stood up and downed the contents of his glass before picking up his jacket. If he stayed any later, Rachel would come looking for him. "Want me to mention it to her?"

He pretended to hesitate. "Sure. She'd have to be ready to leave first thing," Bass told him as he put the cork back into the bottle Miles had been drinking and set it behind the bar. He'd never had to try to appear more casual in his life. "Train leaves at eight. Two days there, one night in town, two days back."

December 18, 2029

Bass waited at the train station the next morning, tired and nerves shot. He'd been up all night wondering why he'd come up with this scam in the first place. The cost of two tickets and all of the other expenses involved was astronomical. Granted, he had a decent amount saved up. He still had some money left from his service to Texas and the bar had been successful. Since he made his own booze now, he no longer had to buy it—he was surprised how much that had decreased his living expenses (and had been ashamed when he realized how much he'd spent getting shitfaced beforehand).

If she didn't show up, he'd not only be out the cost of her ticket, but he'd still have to go to Aspen anyway to avoid suspicion. The whole thing was absolutely insane and he was almost ready to call the whole thing off, but then she was suddenly there and headed his way. He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped.

"Well, Let's go!" she said enthusiastically as she reached his side, as if she'd been the one waiting on him instead of the other way around.

"Okay then," he said, swallowing nervously as he picked up his bag and followed her to the train. I'm actually doing this…

Charlie settled into her seat and waited for him to stow their bags. Despite their newly bloomed friendship, her initial reaction when Miles had brought the trip up had been to decline. Having a few drinks was one thing. Going on a trip north with him alone, well that was something else entirely. This wasn't the same as a two day hunting trip or a ride over to Crocket. It wasn't like they hadn't spent weeks on the road before, but that was before.

In the past two weeks, as more barriers between them had collapsed, she found herself thinking about him just a bit more than she was comfortable with. She'd seen him damn near every day, so that shouldn't have been so surprising—except for he'd been creeping into her thoughts even when they weren't together.

As fate would have it, her mother had been the deciding factor in her decision. Rachel had not been happy with the idea. Even if it wasn't Bass that was going—which was bad enough in her book, it was also one of the snowiest places on the continent and it could be downright dangerous in December in the post-blackout world. She'd been surprised that the trains were even passing through there this time of year.

That had cemented the entire thing for Charlie—snow. So, she'd done her best to sound reluctant and had eventually told them that she'd go, if only to make sure he didn't do something stupid while he was gone. If he did, there'd be no telling how long the bar would be closed until a new owner came along.

"You're awfully chipper," Bass commented as he took his seat. "We've got a two-day train ride ahead of us. I hope you're prepared to be bored."

He'd shelled out the extra diamonds to get a private coach on the train. This way there was still someplace to sleep—they'd have to share a sleeping berth and he knew that doing so at the same time was out of the question.

The next two days were absolutely hell for him. She was increasingly excited the closer they got and when she got that way, she was positively radiant. This doesn't mean anything. You're just doing this to be nice. You don't get to keep her in the end, so don't even think about it. He'd practically chanted those words in his head for the entire trip.

December 20, 2029

They pulled into town just before noon. Much to Charlie's disappointment, there wasn't a single snowflake to be seen. Bass was more subtle, but he was equally disappointed. Now what?

His plan had been simple and in truth, not well thought out. He figured two days north; let her get a kick out of the snow that was almost always on the ground from about the middle of October until March. If they got lucky maybe it'd snow that night. Then they could head back south and be home well before Christmas. He'd tell everyone that his friend from Cali left early or didn't show and blow it off as no big deal.

Instead, he was now going to have to improvise. He'd asked one of the baggage men at the train station where they could find an inn with multiple rooms available and he was directed to one in particular. The man had explained that there were now only two up and running in town. One was cheap and seedy (Bass' kind of place, really), but it was smaller and tended to fill up quickly. A weary traveler was lucky to get in. Two rooms would almost assuredly be a no-go.

The other was rarely booked full because the cost was fairly high. It was nice though, the man had assured him. Because Charlie would have found it odd if he'd come to buy an expensive still without the diamonds to do so, he'd brought a damned fortune (getting robbed would suck right about now). And so, he led them in the general direction of the nicer of the two places, which had been creatively named "The Lodge."

They found it easily enough. It was at the far end of Galena Street, which was the main drag in town. When the blackout hit, the town had been a retreat for the nation's wealthiest citizens. All the money in the world couldn't buy their survival, however. The majority had frozen to death that fall as they'd been unable to survive without the use of technology. Maybe if they'd had time to prepare, but the weather had already turned by the time the power went out. It probably hadn't taken very long, either.

It wasn't until several years ago that the town had become repopulated when someone realized that the town was famous for something other than its extended skiing season and beautiful scenery. It was silver town and there was still silver in those mines. They hadn't dried up like so many of the others had. The government had simply stopped buying so much and so the lack of demand had shut them down. Now, precious metals were currency once more so there was (quite literally) money to be made and Texas was willing to lease the mines to do just that.

The town was once more a boom town. Because of the remoteness, it was likely to become abandoned again once the silver was gone, but in the meantime it was like taking a walk into America's past. The expansion of the rail lines had allowed much better access to the wastelands and they were being repopulated once more. Because there was no central organizing government to be had, it was likely that Texas would eventually take control of most of the region when wall was said and done.

As they walked, he told Charlie what he knew about the 19th century gold and silver rushes that had triggered westward expansion. She happily humored him and listened. He got so damned excited about the history of it all that she didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't really give a shit one way or the other. She couldn't help but think it was kind of cute when he went on like this. He got the same look on his face when he was telling her about what he'd done to a particular batch of ale or whiskey.

The first thing they notice when they reached The Lodge was that it was at least well-tended. It was most certainly part of a resort at one point. The wood building had been built to resemble a log cabin and boasted two stories and a veranda that extended across the front and down both sides of the building. The second Charlie saw it, she got a dreamy look in her eye and he knew he'd done well.

Yes, this trip was going to cost him the majority of his savings and if anyone knew what had been going through his mind when he'd come up with the idea, they'd say he was an idiot. In retrospect, he also knew he was a total idiot, but he couldn't quite make himself regret it yet. We're really here, he thought as they walked into the hotel. They were actually in Aspen and in all actuality they had a few days of leeway built into the trip just in case. You're alone… with Charlie… In a romantic little inn… You're fucked…

Surely a snowless December was rare. There was no doubt in his mind that more than likely a freak warm front had melted the landscape and that things would be back to normal any day now. They walked into the end and sought out the proprietor. The aging man behind the bar in the common room indicated he was in charge and offered to let them a room.

Charlie burst out laughing when he made a comment about them being an attractive couple. "No, we're not—"

"We'll need too rooms," Bass interrupted. He couldn't be mad at her reaction. In her mind, they were friends (barely), nothing more. It wasn't her fault that cupid was a dick, although it stung just a little. "So what's the deal with the weather? We kind of expected it to be, well- whiter."

"Yep, usually by December there's at least a good foot or so on the ground. This year? It's only snowed twice and just a few inches at that. Gonna be a low river come string if mother nature don't get her ass in gear," the man told them as he dug out the keys to their rooms.

Well isn't that perfect? Bass thought as they walked upstairs to their rooms. "Tell you what," he said as they both went to unlock their doors, "You unpack and do—whatever it is women do, and I'll go find my friend."

"Why don't you wait five minutes for me to drop my stuff off and we'll go find him together," she suggested, as if she was challenging him.

"He kind of didn't know I was bringing anyone. He's a bit… off," he countered while at the same time saying a silent prayer that she buy it.

"He stole the still, didn't he," Charlie said as she opened her door.

Bass almost breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped himself just in time. "That's his business, not mine. And probably, yeah."

Charlie shook her head at him. "I swear to god of you get me arrested or killed over this, I'm going to kick your ass." She went into her room and shut the door. Before he could move or respond she opened it again and stuck her head out. "And after that, I'm claiming the entire first batch you make on this thing."

"Fair enough," he told her. He didn't go inside, he just chucked is bag in and locked the room back up. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

Bass just wandered around the town for a while to kill time. Being a proper boom town, Aspen seemed to have it all. There was the shady side, complete with its slums, rough bars and whore houses (now this was more like it) and then there was the nicer side with the lodge and a few well-kept homes and businesses. They were separated by an open market in the middle. Just like Willoughby and hundreds of other towns that survived the blackout there were dozens of shops that existed as the boundaries of the marketplace and the streets were filled with various market stalls. It seemed that the center of every town these days were what resembled giant flea markets.

After an hour or so he slowly made his way back. He'd actually gotten a bit warm as he'd wandered, which only added to his worry. It was almost as warm here as it was in Willoughby the morning they'd left. It was very possible (okay, probable) that this was going to be one giant failure after all.

As he headed back to the hotel, he did his best to look pissed. It didn't take all that much, really. Spending two days with her on the train had made him a nervous mess. She'd been so close and yet remained untouchable. As he walked he realized how sad he'd look if anyone could read his thoughts. He was actually looking forward to spending the next day or two with her.

You really are pathetic—you're worse than pathetic… you're like a teenager with a crush. You're like Miles pining after Rachel, you schmuck. The narrator of his internal dialog was an asshole, and this did much to add to his ruse. By the time he was standing in the hallway, waiting for her to open the door he'd actually succeeded in putting himself into a bad mood.

"You don't look happy," she commented as they headed down the stairs to the common room.

Why should I be? I'm forty-seven going on sixteen… No, it's worse. I'm forty-seven going on Miles… "My guy is a no-show so far. The last train of the day was ours, which means we have to wait here until tomorrow."

"Don't be so crabby. So we wait a day; big deal. It'll be like a vacation. We might as well enjoy it." They'd found a table in the common room and waited to be served. "But, since you dragged me up here and there isn't any snow for me to play with while you do your whole cloak and dagger sale bit, you totally owe me. You're taking me shopping—and lunch is on you," she added.

Wait a minute. Nobody said nothin' about no shopping! "Okay," he said warily. When the waitress came to check on them, he didn't order a whiskey—he ordered two.

Much later, he found himself following her through the center of town as she went from one market stall to the next. Fortunately, she seemed content to window shop for the time being. He patiently stood, waiting on the sidelines while she looked at this or that, suffering in silence. Post-apocalypse or not, women would always be women.

Unbeknownst to Bass, Charlie didn't really care about shopping one way or another, but she was willing to bet he absolutely hated it. Just to have a little fun with him, she continued to drag him along. Knowing she was making him just a little miserable made the experience all the more fun for her and was far more entertaining than the actual shopping part.

She did see a few things that caught her eye. One was a small locket. She opened it up to see a small picture of a snowflake that someone had painstakingly painted with some type of silver paint. She almost bought it, but in the end decided the cost was too high for something so frivolous. Having grown up with so little, she wasn't one to spend diamonds lightly.

For all his attempts at appearing bored, Bass was more than aware of what she was looking at. He also knew that she'd never buy anything just because it was fun, her upbringing would never allow that. She was, after all raised by Ben. Poor now dead Ben who had been conservatism personified. Being raised in the oppressed lands he once held with Ben Matheson as her parental influence, she was practical to a fault. Something else that's entirely your fault, shithead.

He waited for her to move on to the next stall and then quietly negotiated with the stall owner, all the while watching her browse. By the time she turned back around to look for him, he'd caught up with her several stalls over and was several diamonds poorer. He didn't know why he'd bought it. The locket wasn't an appropriate gift, seeing as how she didn't reciprocate his feelings. There was also no way to give it to her without her knowing exactly where it came from.

He stuffed it in his pocket and hoped to god he could figure out what to do with the damned thing later. Their friendship was too new for her to accept it from him. Maybe for her birthday next spring…

By the time they'd settled at a table for dinner, Bass was a nervous wreck. She was happy as can be, having accepted the delay easily, but for him this was turning out to be a total disaster. Because the entire trip had been based off of a poorly constructed lie, it was getting increasingly difficult to keep it up. He knew he was a horrible liar and the fact that anyone had bought any of this was a miracle to begin with, let alone Charlie or Miles. Miles knew him too well and Charlie had a finely tuned bullshit detector.

If there'd been actual snow, he felt he could deal with the several years of embarrassment and teasing he'd suffer when she eventually found out the real reason he'd brought her to Aspen. Anytime someone brought it up, he could always play it off. After all, everyone assumed he was nuts anyway. Why Bass, you really went all the way to Aspen to give Charlie snow for Christmas? Isn't that a bit insane? Well duh! Look who you're talking too.

If she found out that he'd dragged her here for nothing, however… Well, she'd be pissed. That idea didn't sit well. He could handle his unrequited feeling if she was his friend. He wasn't so sure it'd be so easy if she went back to hating him. You can't handle shit—you're already a wreck… His internal asshole once again began to get lippy. No, I'm not! Liar… Who asked you anyway? You did… Shut up!

"… Bass?"

He snapped out of his own head and looked at her. She'd obviously been talking to him and he hadn't heard a word she'd said. That's what he got for getting into an argument with himself and losing, he supposed. "Huh?"

"You okay? Cause you're acting weird, which is saying a lot since you're, well you." She was poking fun at him, and was trying hard to keep a straight face. It hadn't missed her that he'd seemed a bit nervous since the moment they got off that train.

"I'm fine, Charlotte," he said. "Just have a headache from all that shopping. You were saying."

She shot him a dirty look for the use of her full name. Someone needs a nap. "I asked if you knew what time the train from Cali comes in tomorrow. You know, the one you're friend will be on?"

In truth, he didn't even know if there was a train from Cali arriving the next day. There were several trains that ran the North/South route out of Texas and a few that ran East/West through the plains now. There was a train hitting most of the stops every other day, and some even daily. With the help of Aaron Pittman and the few others that had been working on the trains for the Texan government, they would only increase.

Cali, on the other hand was limited in what they had and after the war, Governor Affleck seemed determined to resume her isolationist policies. More than likely there wouldn't be anything arriving from Cali for a week or two, if not longer. Hopefully, they'd be well on their way back to Willoughby before Charlie figured that out, if she ever did.

She quite obviously expected him to answer her, so he had to make something up. "Umm, ten I think," he finally said. With each lie he told, he was getting in deeper and he knew it. Before it got any further out of hand, he needed to orchestrate a retreat.

Bass lucked out in that Charlie was tired after dinner. He walked her upstairs and after wishing her goodnight he practically fled to his own room. He flopped down on the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "You are seriously fucked," he said aloud. He knew if he had more than two working brain cells, he'd just tell her the still was broken or that the man he was supposed to meet had left a message saying he'd already left and get them on the next train home. Then again, what if it snowed that night? They'd miss it by a day and considering that had been the entire point of this disaster… "Yep, you're totally fucked, shit-for-brains."

As he waited for sleep to come, he vaguely recalled his mother watching a movie right around Christmas. It had always been one of her favorites. He barely remembered it after all these years (and because he'd never caught more than bits and pieces of it) but he thought the plot had something to do with a ski resort and no snow. As he finally got drowsy, he found himself regretting never watching it with her. If he had, at least he'd maybe remember what it was called. Those were the last thoughts he had as he fell asleep.

Charlie lay in her bed, watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. Not all of the rooms had them, and she'd lucked out to get one. Bass' didn't. All he got was an old stove for heat—not that it was really all that cold out. Today it had probably reached almost fifty, much to her disappointment.

When Miles had extended the man's invitation to come on this trip, she'd assumed it was because he'd wanted her company, or at the very least her skills. Even though she'd been initially a bit reluctant to come at first, she'd still found the idea that he'd wanted her around flattering (okay, it was more than that, but she refused to acknowledge it, even now). Now, she wasn't sure why the hell he'd asked her to come, because he was acting strangely and couldn't seem to wait to get rid of her this evening.

She'd be a damned liar if she said she didn't find him attractive. For that matter if anyone ever did actually ask, she'd definitely be a liar because there was no way in hell she was going to say it out loud. Knowing what Miles had told her about his family and having spent more time with him in the weeks since, she found it harder to pretend that he was just some monster she'd had the misfortune of being attracted to.

She'd even gone as far as sleeping with the man's son, just to prove to herself that she wasn't—and that still hadn't worked. She'd long since stopped hating him from the past. That had really been for her benefit more than his, of course. She just didn't want to hold onto the anger any longer. She saw what it had done to her mother and she didn't want to be that way. Rachel Matheson could drive herself downright neurotic with her hate when she left it unchecked. That wasn't how Charlie was built.

As she fell asleep, she tried to get the man out of her mind, but as usual, she failed. In the silent darkness in her room she was forced to confront the fact that she was actually disappointed that he'd been so uncomfortable at dinner. What happened there?

December 22, 2029

Charlie was starting to get suspicious. This was their third day in Aspen and so far his so-called friend hadn't shown up and he seemed more high-strung by the minute. This was interesting considering he normally tried to act as laid back as possible in all situations. "Okay, what gives? We've been here three days and so far, it's been for nothing."

Bass knew he was out of time and he knew that if he didn't agree to go back home now, he'd either have to explain the real reason for their trip or risk her getting genuinely pissed at him—and she didn't seem that far from the mark as it was. "Nothing gives. He just never showed. I guess it's a wasted trip," he reluctantly told her. "Pack your shit. I'll go get the tickets."

Later…

She was going to kill him, and then, when they got back to Willoughby, Rachel was going to kill him. As Bass left the ticket office, he knew he was screwed. The last train going anywhere until after Christmas had already left. Because Christmas was the only holiday that was observed by all of the Republics, it was kind of a big deal. That being said, there was no way to get Charlie home. What could be traveled in two days via rail would take two weeks on horseback.

Resigned to meet his doom like a man, he headed back to the inn. He stopped by the bar to pay the owner for the extra days they'd need before going upstairs to deliver the bad news. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on her door.

Charlie opened it and immediately knew he'd done something that she wasn't going to like. "We aren't leaving today, are we?" she asked as she stepped back to let him in.

"About that," he began as he put a little bit of distance between them. He waited for her go close the door before he continued. "We kind of missed the train. It left at dawn."

Charlie concentrated on taking several deep breaths before she allowed herself to react. Killing Bass wouldn't get her home any faster. It wasn't like either of them had been up that early, she reminded herself. Most trains didn't run that early unless they were on government business. There was no way he could have known it would already have left.

When she calmed down she finally responded. "So we're stuck until tomorrow. Please tell me you were smart enough to get them for tomorrow's train." It wouldn't put them back in Willoughby until the middle of the day on Christmas, but that she could work with if she absolutely had to.

"Yeah, that was kind of the last one until after the holiday." He flinched when he said it, expecting her to go on the attack. When that didn't happen, he got worried.

Charlie sank down on her bed in defeat. She was going to miss it. As much as she'd joked about avoiding her mother, she'd been looking forward to it. Sure, Rachel would have driven her insane, Miles would have gotten drunk and Aaron would have tried too hard to diffuse the whole thing. That was part of the fun of it. Gene would have brought up her grandmother and would have gotten all misty eyed and Priscilla would have brought pie and Bass… Bass would have moped in his bar alone; always just on the periphery, never to be included.

Was that why he'd dragged her to Colorado? Just so he didn't have to be alone for yet another important day? Was this all on purpose? It seemed logical, now that she'd thought of it—not that she was really thinking all that clearly. He'd ruined her happy day because he couldn't have one of his own. What kind of friend did that? "Why did you do this to me?" she asked sadly.

"Charlie, I'm sorry." He'd much rather that she be angry at him. Instead she looked disappointed—and not just because of the situation. No, she blamed him, and if he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn she thought he'd done this intentionally. "Nothing has quite worked out the way I planned. I-"

"Just go." Charlie turned away as she spoke, indicating that she didn't want to hear anything he had to say.

Bass looked at her one last time and headed downstairs. He needed a drink. Thinking better of it, he didn't bother with the bar in the common room. Instead he headed out the door. He was headed towards the other side of town. That was where people like him belonged.

He'd taken so much away from her—her father, her brother, her mother's presence and most likely her sanity (he was only willing to take partial credit for that one—only a crazy person would have caused the blackout in the first place). Even her stepmother's death was his fault in an abstract way. He'd just wanted to give her something back, and since he couldn't raise the dead this had been the only piece of her happy memories he could give her. Or it would have been had Mother Nature not hated him, along with the rest of the universe.

What the hell was I thinking? He finally reached what looked like the seediest bar in town. Feeling more depressed and lonely than he would have had he just stayed home and spent the entire last week alone in his bar, he went inside and ordered himself a whiskey, followed by another. It wasn't like he had anything else to do—for the next four days…

Meanwhile…

Charlie pouted for most of the day before hunger finally had her emerging from her room in search of food. She knocked on Bass' door but he didn't respond. Not really wanting to see him anyway, she went to the common room for dinner. When she brought her plate, the waitress just happened to mention that her companion had been gone an awful long time.

There wasn't a whole lot to do in Aspen, at least not that she'd seen. There were some bars and whorehouses on the other side of town, or so she'd been told. Then it hit her. That's where he'd gone. He'd ruined her Christmas and then gone to get shitfaced and laid; for some reason, that hurt more than anything else.

December 24, 2029

It just occurred to Bass that he was cold. Not chilled, but really fucking cold. The temperature must be dropping. He rolled over with a groan. He was sore and more than a little hung over. He sat up and took stock of himself. He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten back to the inn; the last he remembered, he was still in that bar on the other side of town.

Damn it's cold! He had hardly used the stove in the corner of his room. He went to check it and found the small coal pail next to it was empty. He got up finally and cleaned himself up. He was going to have to go downstairs to ask the innkeeper to send some coal up so he didn't freeze his ass off overnight. He wasn't even sure what time it was—it was already dark, which meant little. It could be anywhere between five in the afternoon to two in the morning and he wouldn't know the difference.

More alert (and no longer smelling like a distillery), he realized the reason why it was so damned cold in the room; in his drunken state he'd left the window open. He went to shut it before leaving. He almost keeled over when he looked outside. "Well it's about fucking time." His plans now having been abruptly altered, he went rummaging through his bags to grab a hooded sweatshirt and a few other things. He snagged his jacket on the way out the door and headed directly to Charlie's room.

He banged on the door several times and waited for her to respond. "Go away," was all she said. Her voice was muffled, but she still sounded upset.

"Come on, Charlie. Will you open the door?"

"Why don't you go back to the whorehouse and leave me alone?"

"The what? I wasn't at a whorehouse. Now will you open the door? There's something I want to show you." He decided he was going to wait only a few minutes longer and then he'd just have to kick the door in. He hadn't gone through all this effort just to have it ruined because she was being stubborn.

Charlie finally gave in just moments before he was prepared to do just that. "What do you want?" she asked. Her hair was tousled and her face was flush with sleep. "You ruined my before dinner nap."

Instead of answering, he grabbed her by the shoulders and backed her into the room. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get your hands off of me, I'm still pissed at you." she snapped. She tried to shrug out of his grasp, but he was determined.

Bass whipped her around and pushed her towards the window. "Look outside," he told her and then he took a giant step back. He didn't quite trust her to not deck him, yet.

He could tell the moment she realized exactly what she was looking for. The rigidness went out of her shoulders and she opened the window, letting in a rush of cold air and flurries while she stuck her head out to get a better look. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah, snow." He replied, not even bothering to hide his relief.

Charlie turned around and went for her jacket. In her excitement, she even hardly noticed he was still in the room. Go figure… Bass followed her down the stairs, barely keeping up as she bolted out the door.

She stopped short on the veranda, just taking it in. "I forgot how beautiful it is," she murmured as she watched it fall onto the silent street. Already several inches had fallen.

She went to step out into it when Bass grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Hold on a second." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bundle. "You'll need these," he said.

She waited while he unwrapped it, revealing a small pair of leather gloves and a woolen scarf. She looked up at him, just now noticing the sad expression he wore. There was something big she was missing here. "You planned for this?" she asked as he wrapped the scarf around her neck and carefully tucked the ends into the collar of her jacket.

"Pretty stupid, wasn't it?" he said with a nod as he handed her the gloves. "We came all this way and there wasn't any snow at all. It was just supposed to be a quick trip. I didn't plan on having to wait for it."

She pulled the gloves on and just stood there, trying to figure the rest of it out. "There wasn't a still, was there?"

"Considering how many bars there are on the other side of town, I'm sure there's one somewhere, but not one that I was planning on buying, no."

"Wait a minute. All of this was so-"

"—so I could give you the snow." He could see she was still confused. "It's what you wanted for Christmas, wasn't it?"

"Bass, I don't under-"

"Don't waste it. Go on," he interrupted, offering her a weak smile.

Bass pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and stuffed his hands in his pockets to ward off the cold. Leaning up against one of the pillars on the veranda, he watched as she ran around like a child and just played, kicking the snow around and making snowballs. When one of those snowballs hit him in the chest, her laughter rang out in the quiet evening. Seeing her like this struck him straight through the middle.

Charlie looked back to where he watched. Refusing to let him stand there and get away with it, she chucked a well formed snowball as hard as she could and hit him right in the chest with it. She whooped and cackled in glee. She was covered in white and having the time of her life.

He shook his head at her antics, but the smile on his face didn't quite reach his eyes. Even from the distance she could tell—there was something else there. It suddenly all struck her then. That conversation on Thanksgiving, he'd asked her what she wanted for Christmas and she'd told him snow. He'd remembered that and gone through all this trouble (and she was sure a small fortune) to make this happen for her. What she couldn't figure out was why.

…And what does Bass want for Christmas?

All those other Christmases back…

What did she have to give him in return? He couldn't have what he wanted. His family was dead; his son was God knows where and things would never be able to go back to normal with Miles—not completely anyway.

She walked back over to him. "Done already?" he asked. "Cold?" He noticed that she was shivering just a little and before he could stop himself, he ran his hands up and down her arms to warm her. The way her eyes widened at the contact brought him back to reality and he abruptly dropped his hands.

"This is just the beginning," Charlie said as she headed back inside. "Come on!" If she couldn't give him what he wanted, she could at least share what he'd given her. Playing in it was just the tip of the iceberg for her.

They went upstairs long enough for her to change into dry clothes before returning for dinner. Charlie practically squealed in delight when she found the table by the window was still empty. This was what snowy days were all about—eating dinner with family and friends while watching the snow fall, isolating them from the rest of the world while they were cozy and dry. And that's exactly what she did. While they ate in comfortable silence, her eyes never left the window—and Bass' never left her.

Their plates had been cleared and the innkeeper stopped by to give them mugs of homemade eggnog that he'd prepared for the holiday. With rum being impossible to make without sugar cane, his recipe contained whiskey. By the taste of it, it had quite a bit at that.

Charlie broke her gaze away from the window and noticed that he was staring at her. The second her head turned towards him, he looked away and tried to blow it off, but they both knew he'd been caught. "So this was the plan the entire time?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "I just wanted to give you something back. I'm sorry it took something else away."

Charlie blinked back the tears that welled up at the confession. No one had ever put this much effort into doing something for her before. It made her feel special. "Why, Bass? Why go through so much trouble for me?"

"You still don't see it?" It was hard enough finding himself in love with someone he couldn't have. It was harder still to realize that despite you were laying all your cards on the table, she still didn't get it.

She locked eyes with him and finally figured it out. "Maybe I do now," she said as she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

They sat there, unspeaking for quite some time. It wasn't until the innkeeper let on that he'd like to close the common room early for the holiday that they finally got moving. Bass walked her upstairs and to her door. She stepped inside and turned around in the doorway. "Thank you, for all of this."

Someone had come and rebuilt the fire in the hearth while they were downstairs and it cast a warm glow behind her. The effect was mesmerizing; he was having trouble focusing on her words, so distracted was he by it. "Merry Christmas, Charlie," he replied.

"Do you want to come inside a minute?" she asked, feeling inexplicably shy.

Well duh, he thought. He wanted to say yes, but he couldn't. "Charlie, I didn't do this because I expected anything from you. I just wanted to give you something that would make you happy—no strings attached."

Charlie knew how vulnerable he was; normally so snarky and crass, he was standing there with his heart on his sleeve and it melted her from the inside out. When he started to retreat, she reached out and grabbed his arm.

Bass froze in place, not knowing how to react to the contact. She took this as compliance and threw her arms around his neck, standing on her toes. She pressed her mouth to his, taking him by surprise. Out of reflex, he took a step back. She stumbled and they went flying and ended up in a tangled pile of limbs on the floor. Charlie couldn't help it, she burst with laughter. "Oops, sorry," she offered as she tried to get herself out of control.

He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and then lifted his head off the floor, capturing her mouth. Charlie was more than happy to participate. She sighed in contentment as he nipped at her bottom lip, encouraging her to open for him. She granted him access and he swept his tongue inside. He barely had time to taste her, when they heard someone clear their throat in disapproval.

They pulled back and both turned their heads to face an elderly couple that was also staying in the inn. "Excuse us," the woman said in a clipped tone. "Can you please do that elsewhere? You're blocking the corridor."

"Sorry," Bass said under his breath as Charlie rolled off of him. He got to his feet and helped her up. They pressed up against the wall to allow the couple to pass.

"Shameless…" the woman grumbled in disgust as she headed to her room, her husband by her side.

Charlie grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the room with her. They didn't have the door closed before they both erupted in laughter once more. Bass turned to face her just as she was reaching behind her to lock the door. He cupped her face with both hands, smiling in approval as she licked her lower lip in anticipation. "Now where were we?" he murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Things remained light, playful almost as they kissed and nibbled and explored. His tongue delved into her mouth and Charlie responded enthusiastically. She gave as good as she got, occasionally fighting him for dominance just to submit to him moments later.

Somehow, somewhere along the line, things changed. Their kiss went from playful and carefree to tender. The rest of the world seemed to fall away and in the back of his mind, he realized what was happening and where things were headed.

Bass gently pulled away, resting his forehead on hers, and they stood there for several long minutes, her back against the door. He watched her, his eyes searching hers for some indication that this wasn't just some alcohol fueled game to her. "Charlie, this isn't… I mean, you don't have to… Listen, if we do this, I can't-" I can't just walk away.

Charlie smiled up at him. He was stammering and so nervous. She found his hands and intertwined her fingers with his. "I know. Me too," she interrupted. That was all it took and he was lost.

Bass' mouth crashed back down on hers. He poured all of his longing into that kiss and Charlie could sense it. It was as if she could almost taste all of the years of loss and loneliness and yet all the hope that still held on despite all of the sadness.

They made their way over to the bed as their fingers sought buttons and zippers and layers of clothing gave way. Boots were loosened and kicked off. By the time they reached their destination, they but stood there fully exposed for one another. It was as if they'd just unwrapped each other with all the eagerness of children on Christmas morning.

Their mouths broke apart and their eyes simultaneously swept down, each taking in what was before them. Her breasts were firm and pert in her youth, just begging to be touched. His chest was hard, his muscles moving exquisitely as he reached out for her; his erection was there in all its glory for her to see, and if she was honest, just a bit intimidating.

Bass picked her up and gently set her down in the middle of the bed. Taking in the sight of her swollen lips and soft curves, he yanked back the covers and joined her. Charlie opened her arms and waited for him to come to her. The moment he was there beside her, she was suddenly on fire. In the dim light from the fireplace, he looked like a god: all muscle and passion.

Their lips fused together as he stretched out beside her and began his torturous exploration of her body. He left no part of her untouched as his hand roamed, cupping one breast and teasing the hard nipple before moving down and stroking her belly. He paused at her waist and dug his fingers in, forcing a gasp of anticipation as he continued further. When his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh, Charlie opened herself for him, letting out a soft moan.

Bass gently parted her folds and slid one finger down her slit. She was soaked and it nearly drove him mad. His damp finger found that sensitive bundle of nerves. He stroked it lightly and chuckled as she responded by bucking her hips and moaning his name.

Refusing to just lay there passively while he teased and tortured her so sweetly, Charlie slid her hand down his chest and stomach. He gasped when she ran her palm down his shaft and then back up again, rolling it over the tip of him. Bass flexed his hips and pressed himself further in her hand, letting a growl escape.

Unable to take much more, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. Bass moved over her and settled himself in between her thighs. He brought one hand under and lifted her leg up, pressing her knee almost to her chest to give him full access.

He reached down then and lined himself up at her entrance. Locking eyes with her just briefly he waited for her to nod her assent before sinking into her. She was so tight and wet and felt like heaven. "You feel amazing," he moaned against her lips, "absolutely perfect."

He began to move then, pulling back and then surging forward once more. They found the perfect rhythm. She rose to meet him each time he plunged back in. With one hand cradling her head, his other was free to roam. He slid his hand over her breast, kneading it gently before breaking off their kiss and lowering his mouth to it. As he continued to thrust he flicked his tongue on her nipple. The stimulation was almost too much for her; when it began to overwhelm her, she pulled his mouth back to hers.

He couldn't get enough. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, knees pressing into his flanks, all he could think was that it would never be deep enough. He slid his hand from her breast to her hip and then under her thigh. The smoothness of her skin against his calloused hand had him groaning.

Charlie could only cling to him, her nails digging into his scarred back as she moaned and murmured encouragingly. She dug in hard enough to mark him, winning her a grunt of both pleasure and pain. Already she threatened to push him over the edge.

He increased the pace, and as he did so her breathing quickened. Charlie inhaled in quick gasps and exhaled in soft moans. "There, right there," she said when he shifted and hit the right spot. She bucked her hips and tried to keep him in place. "Oh, God!" she shouted. She thought she was going to break, but he took her higher still. Just when she thought she couldn't take it any longer, she started to snap.

She all but screamed his name as the first waves hit her. She came apart in his arms, every muscle in her body becoming rigid as she found her release. "That's my girl. That's it baby, come for me," he whispered in her ear as she quivered and quaked around him.

Bass knew he was a lost cause as he began to thrust more forcefully. Each time he slammed back inside her he could feel what was left of his control slipping. All he wanted now was to find his own release. He felt his balls tighten and he knew he was past the point of no return.

With the last bit of rationality he had left, he realized that it was now or never. He went to pull out, but Charlie stopped him. The feel of him deep inside her was too perfect and she wasn't ready to give that up. "Keep going. Don't stop," she panted as she slid her hands down to his ass and tried to pull him deeper. She was already building back up again and it felt too good.

"Are you sure?" He asked, just barely holding on now.

"I've never been surer about anything in my life," Charlie panted.

He was helpless after that. He plunged in completely, their tongues tangling in one last kiss as he quickly thrust just a few more times. He stiffened when it hit him, groaning loudly as he poured himself into her. The heat of it pushed Charlie into another orgasm. Her walls squeezed him as he jerked inside her, pulling his see deep into her womb.

Charlie held him close as they experienced the aftershocks of their climaxes. Bass knew he was likely crushing her, but he couldn't summon the willpower and strength to move. His lips now moved gently over hers, the passion fading away and leaving the tenderness of what they'd just shared behind. For all his experience over the years, he'd never quite felt something he could compare it to. Being with Charlie and giving her this part of himself was like coming home and he was worried that he wouldn't be able to walk away from her now.

Eventually they came back down to earth. Their breathing and heartbeats returned to normal and the room was starting to get cold. Bass pulled out and rolled onto his back, taking Charlie with him. Happy and sated, she almost purred in satisfaction. He reached down and grabbed the blankets, pulling them up to cover them both.

Charlie snuggled in close, resting her head on his chest; Bass wrapped his arms around her and tightened them, as if by doing so he could confirm that she was really there. "How did all this happen?" she wondered aloud after a while. To her it was like someone had just flipped a switch and everything had changed, or at least everything had become clear.

"For me, it's been a long time; I just didn't admit it to myself until a month ago," he told her.

"When?"

"I'm not quite sure. Maybe there was something there from the start. Even in Philly, watching you stand there, so brave and stubborn—you were magnificent. But I think it was the night they executed me."

"Why that night?"

Bass spent a few moments collecting his thoughts, trying to find the right words to explain it. "The whole world wanted me dead and walking from that bank to the courthouse I could feel how happy everyone was that I was finally getting what I deserved—and I did deserve it. They paraded me about like a sideshow act and I could see them smiling and laughing; celebrating- but not you."

Bass absently stroked her hair as he thought back to that night. "You hated me, but when everyone else was excited about the fact that I was about to die, you looked so sad and I saw you there, and you looked like you were about to cry. And that's who you are. You're the one that sheds a tear for the last person on earth that deserves it. How could I not fall in love you after that?"

Charlie pulled back to look at him in the dying light of the fire. What does one say to something like that? She was speechless. "So beautiful," he said after several minutes. Her hair was tousled and her eyes heavy as she looked at him.

She knew she was pretty. She wasn't vain by any means, but she was happy with her looks. She also knew that she wasn't what someone would call classically beautiful either. The compliment, among all the others embarrassed her just a little. "No, I'm not." She'd seen some of the women that he'd fooled around with on occasion and had heard of his exploits (and had overheard him reminisce with some of them with Miles). She was well aware that some of the women he'd been with had been drop dead gorgeous.

"You are to me," he insisted, flipping them over. He braced himself on one elbow. He lowered his lips to hers, just barely brushing them. "Right now, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I happen to be an expert." He coaxed her mouth open with a thumb on her jaw, taking the kiss deeper. She squirmed a little beneath him.

With a suggestive groan he flexed his hips. He was halfway hard again, and the feel of her wetness against his shaft did wonders to finish the job. He reached between them and gently stroked her swollen and sensitive flesh, arousing her once more. "Let me show you how beautiful, you are," he whispered as he slid inside her.

Charlie accepted the invasion happily and lost herself in the moment. He toyed with her, moving in slow circles and then pulling out slowly only to tease her before slamming back inside. When she began to get worked up, he sobered and ground into her, hitting her just right. "Is that you're spot?" he groaned into her ear as his teeth gently nipped at her lobe? "Right there?"

She threw her head back, her eyes squinted shut as she started to come. The pressure and friction on her clit combined with the fullness within her was too much. Her orgasm was long and drawn out, rather than the sharp and intense one she'd experienced before. She felt it from her head to the tips of her toes and was helpless in his arms. "Yes, that's it," she finally panted.

"Good," he said, pleased with himself as he now found a steady pace and raced seek his own pleasure. As he finished, she watched him. His eyes were burning intensely, boring into her as if he could see all her secrets. He buried his face in her neck when he started to let go, crushing her to him as he jerked with the intensity of it.

They lay there, side by side, panting with the sheets and blankets tangled around their legs. Charlie watched the shadows from the fire dance across the ceiling, lulling her almost to sleep. With much effort, she turned her head to look at Bass, who was watching her through hooded eyes.

"That was…" she trailed off as her mind fished for the correct words.

Bass chuckled at her, grabbing her hand and bringing it up to press his kips to her knuckles. "Damn right it was," he said with a lopsided grin. "Come here," he added as he pulled her over to him, turning so he could wrap himself around her. He yanked the covers up for a second time against the draft from the window and settled against her back.

Charlie snuggled in close, relaxed and sated. She started to doze off and was almost asleep when her mind drifted back to that one conversation that started all of this.

And what does Bass want for Christmas?

All those other Christmases Back…

He'd done all of this for her, not expecting anything back—especially this. He'd made it very clear that he had been completely unaware that she'd reciprocated his feelings or would ever let him touch her. And yet, he'd still wanted to make her happy.

Bass felt her stiffen against him. "What's wrong? Did I-"

"No, it's not that," Charlie interrupted. "You—this, It's perfect."

"Then what is it?"

Charlie turned in his arms to look at him. "It's just… Well, you put so much effort into giving me what I said I wanted. I just wish I could do the same for you."

That statement had his emotions whirling. I don't deserve her. When Charlie saw his reaction, she reached up and brought her hand to his cheek, secretly loving the way his beard scratched her palm. He turned and pressed his lips to it, eyes closed.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "You did," he finally told her. With all the loss and memories and guilt, this was the first time since that he'd felt like he had someone to hold onto. Even Shelly had not done that—not like this.

Charlie settled herself in the crook of his arm, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. It was such a tender confession from such a hard man. He was a fighter, a deposed dictator, a soldier and a lost soul. He was all of that and so much more, and now he was hers.

Craning his neck, Bass pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then let himself drift, his thoughts turning to had just happened between them and how things would be different from now on. Although it had occurred to him that there were so many obstacles to holding on to her, he still planned on doing just that.

They were both almost asleep when they heard the chiming of the grandfather clock in the common room below. It played its gentle melody before chiming a total of twelve times. "It's Christmas," Charlie murmured sleepily. "Merry Christmas, Bass."

"Merry Christmas, Charlie." He whispered back. When she flicked her sleepy eyes up to look at him, his eyes were still closed and she could tell he wasn't fully awake, but a ghost of a smile still lingered on his face.

When they awoke that morning they quickly learned that the snow had not abated. Bass had pulled the curtains back and they spent a good hour just watching it fall, still wrapped up in each other. "I don't think we'll be leaving any time soon if this doesn't let up," he eventually told her.

"Who cares," she groaned as she reached behind her and began to stroke him with her hand. After a very satisfying bout of Christmas Morning sex, they finally got out of bed. While Charlie got cleaned up and dressed, he went into his room to grab his things. There'd be no separate rooms for the rest of their stay.

After spending a few minutes rinsing off with very cold water, Bass got changed and returned to her. Charlie was just brushing her hair when he opened the door. He came up behind her and pulled the golden locks aside to place a kiss on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, shivering under his touch. When she opened them again, she looked down and saw the locket resting above her breasts.

"Hold still," he said as he fastened the clasp. When he was done, she fingered the locket toying with it. "I wasn't sure if it'd be right to give it to you before last night happened," he explained when she looked up at him questioningly.

Charlie giggled at the absurdity of that. He'd obviously seen her ogling it when they'd been shopping and had bought it with no plans on actually giving it to her? "What were you going to do with it then?"

A sheepish grin spread across his face. "I hadn't the slightest idea. For some reason the blood doesn't run in the direction of my brain when it comes to you."

Hand in hand they headed downstairs for breakfast. Charlie found her favorite table by the window while Bass found the innkeeper to discuss the arrangements of their stay. Obviously they wouldn't need the second room now, especially since there was no telling when they'd be able to go home.

Throughout breakfast they suffered from disapproving glances form the elderly couple the night before. The woman had had her own conversation with the innkeeper, and he made it a point of stopping by their table to discreetly remind them that the walls weren't soundproof. Charlie blushed, but Bass only laughed. Silently he swore to give the couple something to talk about the next morning.

January 4, 2030

The train pulled into the station outside of Willoughby just as the sky was starting to get dark. Bass descended and held out a hand to help Charlie down. She arched her brow at him, the unspoken message telling him saying that she could get down just fine by herself.

Instead of backing down, he just looked at her. "Humor me," he finally said.

Charlie shook her head at him and then took his hand. They waited for their luggage, which had sadly increased a little from when they'd left. She stood by their bags and waited for him to arrange a wagon to take them into town. "You don't get to play this whole breadwinner take care of my woman routine all the time," she scolded when he returned to collect her.

"Yes ma'am," he drawled. And then he picked her up by the waist and deposited her onto the back of the wagon before joining her there.

They stopped by the bar first to drop off their bags in the back rooms that served as his home. Aaron was (thankfully) still running the bar—he'd been a bit worried about that. The trip had cost enough as it was; hopefully sales had been decent in his absence. "You're back!" he shouted as he ran out from behind the bar and grabbed them both in an alarmingly strong bear hug.

"That's enough, Stay-puffed," Bass finally grunted as he finally managed to get away.

"Where the hell have the two of you been? Everyone's been worried sick!" He admonished.

"They knew she was with me," Bass began. It was insulting really—they'd really thought he'd ever let something happen to her. They should really know better by now. "They shouldn't have been worried about her."

"We've been worried about you too, asshole," Aaron snapped.

December 26, 2029

Miles rushes in the door. Aaron looks up from the bar. It's been slow all day and he's bored to tears. He was only planning on running things for a few days and it's been over a week. They were supposed to have been back three days ago at the latest.

"Word came from up north. There's been a blizzard from Wyoming all the way to Nebraska." He's frantic. "A few trains got lost at some point. We don't know where they are."

Later that evening he paces the living room. Everyone is there. Miles immediately let the Rangers know that Charlie and Bass are missing in the new northern territories of Texas. "This is all my fault. I should have ignored you and included him more," he says.

"How would that have helped?" Rachel asks.

"If he'd had other plans he wouldn't have gone on this stupid trip in the first place. But no, I refused to include him because I was afraid it would piss you off." Miles explains.

"What did I have to do with it?" She snaps. "I never told you to exclude him. You never took me into consideration when you dragged him everywhere before the blackout. Why would you have it now?" Knowing that she'd never truly get rid of the man, she's come to reluctantly accept his presence as a part of their dysfunctional little family, come good or bad.

Rachel has in fact assumed that the only reason he hasn't invited him for Thanksgiving and then Christmas was because he didn't want him there in the first place (not that she hasn't been grateful of his absence, but she'd have tolerated it for him). If she'd have known Miles had wanted him there, she'd have extended the invitation herself. Family was family after all, even if you couldn't stand one another.

December 31, 2030

Their worry has increased tenfold. They sit around waiting to hear back. Miles has been in contact with the Rangers the entire time, but they still have heard nothing.

"What if he got depressed again and disappeared? Charlie would have tried to track him and they could have been caught up in it?" Rachel worries aloud.

"Monroe doesn't seem like the type," Aaron comments.

"Are you kidding me? It's obvious," Gene points out. He hadn't had to know the man very long to see that he suffered from it—he probably had for years. From a doctor's standpoint he was horrible at hiding it too.

Miles is worried enough that her response pisses him off. "Are you fucking kidding me? He lost his family and then he lost a wife and kid. Who wouldn't be depressed?" He'd never really defended Bass' behavior to others before now. Something about his possibly being dead brought out a protective streak for his brother that he'd long forgotten.

They all argue over this and the status of his stability for several more minutes. Miles suddenly stops and smacks his forehead. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have pushed them. She probably rejected him and he wigged out. I should have stayed out of it?"

"What?" Rachel, Gene and Aaron say at the same time.

"Oh come on. You all didn't see the doe eyes they kept making at each other when they thought no one was looking—including the other one? He followed her around like a puppy and she pretended not to like it?" It didn't look like it was sinking in. "Really? He went with her on that stupid hunting trip—told her I sent him."

"So your solution was to set them up? On a road trip to Colorado in December?" Rachel was staring daggers into him.

"No, he sort of mentioned the trip. He asked me first but he was practically screaming that I say no. He wanted to take her the entire time. Dumbass thought I didn't notice. So, I sort of nudged her along. I didn't know they'd get lost in a fucking blizzard."

Aaron recounted the various "what happened to Charlie and Bass" scenarios that they'd all invented over the past several days, much to their shared astonishment. "Overreact much?" Charlie asked as she tried to keep a straight face. It was sweet they'd been worried but really? She'd been gone for six months on her own and no one had acted like this, even when she'd come back with Bass in tow.

Aaron just happened to catch sight of something for the first time since they'd been back. His eyes grew wide when it hit him. "Oh, they are so going to kill the both of you." He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. "Okay, I'm ready to go. I wanna watch." He said with a giggle.

"Well, I guess that means the bar is closing early today," Bass grumbled.

They made their way to Miles and Rachel's house. Charlie and Bass held hands as they walked to their doom with Aaron following happily behind. He really was getting a kick out of the whole thing.

"Mom? Miles?" Charlie called out as they walked inside. It was almost dinner time by now, so Miles should be off work.

"Anyone home?" Bass added.

"Charlie?" Rachel's voice could be heard from the kitchen. They sound of footsteps told them that her entire family was rushing towards them. They braced themselves as a united front while Aaron settled himself on the armrest of the couch, an excellent vantage point to watch the feathers fly.

"My God, Charlie. Where have you been?" Rachel said as she stopped short to see them standing there in the living room, their hands joined.

"What the hell Bass? What happened to five days, there and back?" Miles said as circled around them.

"Charlotte Marie Matheson, what on earth is that on your finger?" Her grandfather added.

They were talking all at once, and the result was quite dizzying, especially for two people that had been on a train nonstop for two days; they were exhausted as it was. "Will you guys stop? It's like you're vultures or something, and it's creeping me out," Bass finally said.

All three members of her family stopped in place. Charlie took a deep breath and prepared to answer all three questions at once. "Mom, we missed the last train before they shut down the lines for Christmas, so we had to wait. Miles, It was completely Bass' fault because he had to wait for it to snow so I could see it, and then it didn't stop for a week. Grandpa, that is my wedding ring. While we were snowed in, we got married."

December 31, 2029—January 1, 2030

They stand in the common room of the inn. The pastor is speaking a mile a minute, trying to get through the ceremony just in time. He's made no effort to hide the fact that their request is bizarre, but he's willing to work with it, in the spirit of the holidays and all.

Their vows are rushed because they might not make it otherwise. The other guests watch in absolute amusement. This has got to be the most ridiculous and most romantic thing they've ever witnessed. It's almost done and the innkeeper starts to count nervously. "Five, for, three, two…" The grandfather clock begins its short melody before the chimes begin.

As the first chime sounds, marking the hour the pastor skips the rest and blurts out "Husband and Wife."

"Happy New Year, Charlie," Bass says as he holds her by the waist and yanks her to him.

Charlie slides her arms up until they're wrapped around his neck. "Happy New Year, Bass."

Their mouths meet as the last chime sounds. It's 12 O'clock exactly and they are officially husband and wife—as far as the First United Church of the Plains Nation is concerned, anyway. They've timed it just so. According to the church, they were married on the 1st. According to the laws of Texas, they were married on the 31st.

They've deliberately managed to gain two wedding days for the price of one, having not been able to agree on if they should end or begin a year as a married couple. And, so as the first compromise to their marriage, they've just gone ahead and done both.

The End… (And Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and so on!)