A/N This is the first chap of a little birthday fic for ChelleyPam. Sorry it's a day late. The rest will follow throughout the week. The following story is VERY loosely set in S1 Ep 6 "Sex and Drugs".

Chapter 1

Bobby Drexel is standing on his balcony, enjoying a cup of coffee (yes – it's the real stuff, and no – he won't tell you how he gets it sixteen years post blackout). He's standing there, enjoying the Columbian goodness when unexpected visitors pull up in a stolen Monroe Republic wagon. Drexel knows it's stolen without being told, because these days President Monroe would never willingly give a wagon to his oldest friend and most bitter rival, Miles Matheson, but it is definitely Miles holding the reins.

The former General is not traveling alone and Drexel takes note of his travel companions curiously. There's a big guy with glasses, a teenage boy with blond hair, a slightly older girl with long dirty blond curls and someone lying in the back of the wagon – hard to tell from here but maybe it's a woman. He sighs heavily, setting down his mug.

Time to go see what this is all about.

Miles pulls at the reins as they reach Drexel's front gate.

A beefy black guy with a gun approaches, "Private property. Turn around."

"Tell Drexel that Miles Matheson needs to see him. Now."

The guard hesitates, but decides to let them pass. Aaron points at the fields of red flowers. "Those are poppies." He says, surprised.

"Yeah, heroin in the raw. Drexel supplies half the Republic with the stuff, among other things."

"So you and this drug dealer are good buddies?"

"He's not just a drug dealer. He's also a pimp…and 'buddies' might be stretching it just a bit." Miles says with a shrug as the wagon nears the house.

"But he at least likes you?" Aaron is starting to get nervous. "He'll help us?"

"Well, it kind of depends on what memory he chooses to focus on – the time I saved his life or the fact that it was my fault his life was in danger to begin with…"

"Oh great." Aaron mutters. "We're all screwed."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Miles Matheson. How are you these days? Drexel is standing on his front porch, flanked by guards. He seems amused and Miles lets out s relieved sigh. Evidently Drexel is going to focus on the good memories.

"Have been better. My friend is injured. She needs a doctor."

"Injured how exactly?"

"Well, she was stabbed. We think the wound is infected." Miles is getting impatient. "Listen, can you help or not?"

"You came to me, Miles. Don't be a dick." Drexel walks over to the wagon and peeks in at Nora. "Oh, she's pretty. I can see why you want her to make her all better." He licks his lips, "Yeah, I can help. My personal physician is a guy named Pike. He can take a look at her." Drexel eyes the rest of Miles's group, his gaze resting hungrily on Charlie, "You're a tasty little thing. Don't suppose you need a job?"

Charlie arches an eye brow and starts to speak, but Miles cuts her off. "That's my niece, you fuckhead. She's beyond off limits, okay?"

Drexel holds up his hands as if in surrender. "Yeah Miles, I get it. Off limits." He sighs and then turns to his men, "Have the maids get the east wing ready. We have guests. Also, get Dr. Pike. Tell him it's urgent."

Charlie and Danny are given adjoining rooms. Miles and Aaron have similar rooms across the hall. Nora has her own room, and Drexel assigns her an around the clock nurse as well. Dr. Pike is a nice older man with a soft voice. He says Nora needs blood and Miles offers his because he is a universal donor. The blood transfusion appears to be a success and along with the home grown penicillin he administers; Dr. Pike feels Nora has a decent chance of survival. He says that Nora will need to rest for at least a week and probably two to fully recover.

Drexel is clearly an ass, but he's also a very good host. They are given huge meals and free reign of the property. The rooms they are staying in are luxurious and Charlie feels that she could get used to the hot baths and cool sheets.

Drexel's sister appears shortly after their arrival. Her name is Duncan and she takes an immediate interest in Charlie. On the second night, after a luxurious dinner of venison stew, fresh baked bread and cherry pie, Charlie and Danny go to their rooms. Charlie is surprised when there is a knock on her bedroom door. She opens it to find Duncan waiting with a mischievous smile and arms full of fabric.

"Uh, what is all that?" Charlie asks, eyeing the clothes suspiciously.

"No offence Kid, but your wardrobe could use a make-over." Duncan eyes the faded brown pants and worn grey tank that Charlie is wearing. She shakes her head. "You are a beautiful girl and you should try a little harder."

"Why? When I leave here we'll be back to fighting for our lives and I'll be spending my free time hunting for dinner with my bow. Seems to me like fancy clothes are a really stupid idea."

"Fancy clothes are never a stupid idea. Before the blackout I dreamed of being a fashion designer. These days, dressing hookers is as close as I get."

"I'm not a hooker."

Duncan sighs heavily, "Yes, I'm aware of that, but you are going to be here for a week or two, so humor me while you are here. Then you can go back to your usual look when you leave if you feel that you must."

Charlie sees determination in Duncan's expression and gives in, sort of. "Fine, but nothing frilly, and don't dress me like one of your brother's girls."

Duncan chuckles, "I think they all look lovely, but you're right. The clothes I choose for them are much different than anything I would choose for you. I've selected more conservative choices for you to look through. Don't worry."

Charlie and Duncan are late to dinner that night. When the door finally opens, Miles glances up and stops with his spoon halfway to his mouth, his eyes on Charlie.

Danny looks up and stares.

Aaron chokes on a bite of soup.

Bobby Drexel chuckles appreciatively.

"Shut up, all of you." Charlie scowls as she sits down at the table. Duncan settles into the seat to her right, grinning proudly. The men continue to stare.

"You look…." Miles starts.

"Different…" Danny finishes.

Drexel shakes his head, "Not different. Hot. She looks hot, boys."

"Is that a dress?" Aaron asks, eyes wide.

"Yes, it's a dress. Eat your dinner." Charlie growls, staring daggers at Duncan.

Charlie isn't sure how to handle this much attention over her appearance. It's just a stupid dress, and not even a very fancy one. It's navy blue with a scoop neck and cap sleeves. The hem hangs just past her knees. Duncan said it was the least frilly dress she had, and Charlie had actually felt really pretty in it… right up until she got to the dining room.

Now she just feels weird. She fidgets, finally daring to glance at Miles. The look on his face surprises her. He's not teasing or snarky. He looks sad. "What?" she asks.

"I was just thinking about all you've missed out on because of this life we lead. You look beautiful Charlie. Really beautiful. I hope someday things are different for you. Maybe someday you can lead a life where wearing a pretty dress doesn't shock everyone at the dinner table."

Charlie relaxes a little then, seeing a rare glimpse of her uncle in this moment. "Thanks Miles."

They eat quietly until one of Drexel's guards walks in and goes straight to his employer's side. He leans in close and whispers something in his ear.

"When?" Drexel asks, his jaw tense.

The guard answers, but only loud enough for Drexel to hear.

"What's going on, Bobby?" Duncan asks her brother, concerned.

"Looks like we're expecting even more visitors tomorrow."

"Who?"

"President Monroe and his entourage will be coming and staying for a week or so."

"Shit." Miles mutters. "Nora isn't ready to move yet…"

"It's okay." Drexel says, though he doesn't sound very convincing. "You are all in the East wing. You will stay there. I'll put Bass and his men on the other side. You'll never have to see each other."

That night Charlie waits till well after dark and takes a lantern down to the library on the first floor. It's probably technically no longer an area she's supposed to be in, but she loves the books. When she gets there, she finds Duncan already looking at the shelves.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Charlie starts to back out. "I know I probably shouldn't be here."

Duncan shrugs, "Come on in. I won't tell."

Charlie hesitates, but finally moves into the room, heading toward a wall of shelves. "Duncan, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure kid. What's on your mind?"

"What's the deal with my uncle and the President? Do you know?"

"Oh, that. Well, how long do you have?" Duncan sits down on a long velvet covered couch and leans back, clearly making herself comfortable.

"So you do know?"

"Well, yeah. Bobby has supplied the Republic with his…" she pauses with a smirk, "merchandise for years. We worked with them from the beginning. In the early days of the Republic, your uncle and Monroe did it all together. They were the best of friends and equal partners."

Charlie senses that Duncan knows a lot more than she's saying, "You knew them well?"

Duncan smiles coyly and looks away. "Yes, I knew them both…well. I used to help schedule some of the entertainment at Independence Hall."

"Entertainment?" Charlie watches Duncan for a moment, "I don't want to know, do I?"

"Probably not."

"So what happened? Between them I mean?"

"I'm not sure really. A general difference of opinion, I guess. They wanted to take things in different directions and their friendship fell apart. At one point Miles felt that Bass had betrayed him, tried to kill Monroe, but he couldn't do it. Ended up leaving it all behind instead. Left Bass to run the Republic by himself. Miles has been on the run ever since as far as I know."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Charlie runs her fingers along the leather bound books on a shelf, "I guess that's when Miles came to us. He arrived just after my folks died and convinced Danny and I to travel with him. He never would talk about the Republic. We knew he was part of it, but that was all. He never even mentioned knowing the President personally, much less that they were friends."

"Well I guess I can't blame him. Probably a lot of unfinished business there."

"So, what's going to happen if they run into each other here?" Charlie asks, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Good question Charlie. I have no idea."

The next morning is bright and clear.

Charlie wakes to the sound of horse hooves clacking down the lane toward Drexel's mansion. She peeks out through the curtains and steps through the door that leads to the balcony. She knows that she should not go any further. Drexel has warned her about being seen, but she can't help herself. Curiosity gets the best of her. Charlie wants to catch a glimpse of the President - to put a face with the name.

She edges out onto the balcony, the ceramic tile is ice cold under her bare feet. The wind is cool and brisk and her hair whips around her face. The white cotton gown (another of Duncan's brilliant ideas) pulls tight against her curves as it too is flapped out and away from her body by the gusts of air. The carriage comes to a stop and a blond man steps out. Charlie appraises him with a mental shrug. He is sharply dressed in his uniform. He's good looking in a way, but not at all the kind of guy who sparks Charlie's interest. She feels oddly disappointed and isn't even sure why.

Charlie is ready to turn when she spots him – the one who does spark her interest. He's riding on a horse at the back of the group of Militia soldiers who followed the carriage to the mansion's door. He is lean and lanky with dark blond curls. He's laughing at something another soldier says and Charlie watches him, entranced. Her heartbeat begins to hammer against her ribcage.

He is perfect.

His face is chiseled and well defined. His neck is powerful and his shoulders are broad. His arms are lined with hard muscles and his hands are strong with long lithe fingers wrapped loosely around the horse's reins. His uniform shirt is unbuttoned, showing a slice of tight flesh underneath. His laugh echoes up to her and she notes how perfect and white his teeth are, how perfectly offset they are by the tanned skin and dark blond stubble.

Charlie finds herself thinking very un-Charlie like thoughts… about what this man would look like naked and about how it would feel to let him sink slowly inside her heat. She wants him in a way that is new and fierce and immediate. This surge of need is almost scary in its intensity.

As if sensing her gaze, he glances up and their eyes lock. Her breath catches and her gut turns to jelly.

Charlie knows that she should take a step back into the shadows, but she's frozen in place - totally lost in the way he stares at her. He watches her openly, not trying to hide that he likes what he sees. When his smile grows into a grin, Charlie feels a surge of desire pooling in her core.

Monroe's body guard is a guy named Miller. He's funny as hell and has been listing all the things he plans to do to the whores at Drexel's – alphabetically – for the last couple of hours. As they approach the mansion, Bass is cracking up because Miller is just as funny as he is perverted. Bass's head is thrown back as he laughs into the morning sky. This is the moment that he sees the woman on the balcony.

At first it's just a movement that catches his eye – a flash of white cotton in the breeze. Then he sees her…the source of the movement. Miller is still talking – he's gotten to 'W', but Bass isn't even hearing him anymore. All of his senses are focused on her.

She is perfect.

Lean and long limbed, the wind whipping at her hair and her cotton white night gown and the morning sunlight shining through her long golden curls…but it is her eyes, trained on his own, that bring him up short. Her gaze is hot and direct. It sizzles down his spine.

Bass sucks in a breath through his teeth. He wants her. This need is instinctual. Primal. He doesn't remember ever feeling this level of lust at first sight. This isn't just garden variety lust either. This is need that makes his bones tingle and his balls tighten.

He lifts a hand in a bit of a salute, and this movement brings Charlie out of her trance. She steps back into her room and closes the door behind her, wondering just how big of a mistake she has made. Hopefully, the soldier won't feel the brief eye contact with the girl on the balcony is even worth mentioning to the President.

Charlie closes her eyes, saying a little prayer that this will be the case.

It's been a while since President Monroe was caught off guard by anything. He prides himself on being prepared. He wasn't prepared for this. For her.

And when she moves suddenly into the shadows, he feels an ache to see her again like a punch in the gut. He shakes it off and dismounts from his horse when he sees Baker walking over. He'll find this girl tonight. For now, they need to play nice with Drexel. Monroe smiles when Jeremy approaches, "So how was the ride?" He asks his friend.

Baker shrugs, "It was nice. Don't know why you insist on having me take the coach in your place. You should be the one in the cushy carriage."

"Nah, this is better. I hate being cooped up and if anyone wants to kill the President, I'll have fair warning when I watch them torch your ride." Bass laughs.

"You're in an awfully good mood."

Bass shrugs, "Fresh air, easy day on the road, Miller is fucking hilarious, and I think I found the lucky girl who will be enjoying my company while we're here."

"Already? I haven't seen anybody but Drexel." Baker nods to where their host is waiting for them on the porch. "You have something you want to tell me, Sir?" Baker smirks.

Bass shakes his head with a laugh, "No. Drexel is still not my type. I saw a girl up on the balcony as we were pulling up. She's perfect…" He trails off, remembering the raw beauty of the young woman with the flowing hair.

Yes. He will definitely be seeing more of her.

Monroe walks with Baker to the front steps. He and Drexel shake hands, "Nice to see you again Bobby. Thanks for welcoming us on short notice."

"It's my pleasure Mr. President. Please let me know if there is anything at all I can do to make your stay more enjoyable." As usual, Bobby is nervous in the presence of the Republic's leader.

Monroe nods, "We're hungry and I want a bath. Then you can send me the girl from the balcony." Bass notices Drexel's blank expression, "Long dirty blond curls, early twenties?"

Suddenly Drexel's uncertainty morphs into a moment of panic, but he covers quickly. If Bass hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have even seen the change. Bobby Drexel swallows hard, "Sorry Mr. President. I don't have any girls like that."

Monroe scowls, "For fuck's sake Bobby, call me Bass. And cut the bullshit. I saw her five minutes ago."

"No, you misunderstand. Yes, I know who you are referring to. She does not work for me though. She is just a friend. A guest."

Bass's expression is grim, "You know how I am when I don't get what I want."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Sebastian!" Duncan comes running out and right into the President's arms, giving him a big kiss on the lips.

Bass grins down at her, "Hey Duncan, you are a sight for sore eyes. How are you?"

"I'm good. Keeping busy, you know…"

"Yes I do." He puts an arm around Duncan's shoulders as she leads him into the mansion. Bass leans in close, his lips close to her ear, "So there's this girl…"

"I heard you asking about her, the one on the balcony?"

"Yes. I want her, Duncan."

"Like Bobby said, she's not an employee. She's a guest."

Bass squeezes her shoulders harder than is absolutely necessary, "Don't care. I want her."

Duncan sighs heavily, "Listen, it's possible that you might run into her in the library after dark. She likes to look through the books. I'm not promising anything, Sebastian. She is not a working girl, but you could talk to her."

"I don't need promises, just an opening."

"Well, now you have your opening."

"Thanks, Duncan." Bass grins, giving her a kiss on the temple, "I owe you one."

"You owe me way more than one, Mr. President." Duncan says with a mischievous smile.

The night is full dark and Charlie lights a small lantern before making her way to the library. She knows she's supposed to stay in the east wing, but the books – rows and rows of them – call to her. She has little to do here other than read and she wants to spend some time picking the next book.

The library is silent; the only light comes from her lantern. She sits it on a low table and begins to glance at the spines of books neatly lined up on the shelves. A sound startles her, and she whirls. The room is nothing but shadows at first but slowly she makes out a shape. A person. A man.

No. Not just a man. It's him. The guy from outside this morning.

He's sitting in a leather chair, watching her. His uniform is gone. He's wearing dark pants and a simple white v-neck tee shirt. He looks very relaxed, watching her as he sips from a glass. Charlie notices a half empty whiskey bottle sitting on a nearby table.

"I'm sorry." She says, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll go."

"Don't go." His voice is low and rough.

She feels a shiver and her nipples harden as she watches him watch her.

He stands slowly, his eyes locked on her. She is a vision. If he's not mistaken, she's wearing the same simple white gown from this morning. The stark contrast between her tanned skin and the fabric is stunning. This morning the wind had molded the shapeless gown to her body. Tonight it hangs loosely around her frame.

He licks his lips, taking a step closer, "You one of Drexel's girls?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm just visiting." Charlie notices how he's watching her, his eyes occasionally leave her face to trail down her body like a caress. She doesn't get the significance at first as she is too distracted by his proximity.

When she realizes that she is standing between the lantern and him, and that he is seeing every curve silhouetted perfectly, she feels her cheeks flame. Moving to one side, she glances his way and watches as he laughs quietly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It doesn't matter." He taps his temple with a finger. "The image is burned into my brain."

Charlie is flustered, "I need to go."

"No. Don't go." He says again, his voice is firm, his expression is determined. "Stay. Keep me company."

She hesitates, finally deciding to stick around for a few minutes, "Why are you here?"

"In the library? I wanted some peace and quiet. It's been a long day."

"No, I meant here at Drexel's. Did the President make you all come here?"

He looks at her strangely for a moment and then glances away, an amused smile playing at his lips. "Yes, I'm here because the President wanted to come here."

"Is he hard to work for?"

Monroe tilts his head thoughtfully, "Probably sometimes, but not always."

"So the president wanted to come here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Well, because he was in the mood for some female company, or thought he was anyway.

"He's not in the mood for female company anymore?"

"Well, it's complicated. He wanted a particular girl. She isn't available." As he speaks, he slowly moves closer. Only inches separate their bodies. She can feel his breath hot on her cheek.

"What about you?" She asks, hating how raspy her voice sounds, "Is there a special girl you want?"

"Yes." He reaches up and winds a long strand of hair around two fingers.

"Is she available?"

"Don't know." His lips brush lightly across her cheek bone, one hand finds her narrow waist.

"Why don't you know?" She asks in a whisper.

"Because you haven't told me yet." And the words are barely spoken when his mouth finds hers. She lets him kiss her because her body can't even comprehend saying no to this man. She opens her lips and he slides his tongue between them, tasting her. His arms slide around her waist. Her hands move up to clasp behind his neck. This is what kissing should be like. Flavors and colors and sounds. Every sense is on high alert. Her body hums with the tension and the forbidden nature of it all.

Reality finally rears in and Charlie pulls back, her lips swollen, her pupils blown. "But I'm not one of Drexels girls…"

"Yeah, I know. But you're still the one I want."

Charlie sucks in a ragged breath, "I really do have to go." She turns and flees, her fingers pressed against her lips as she rushes toward her room.

Bass watches her go and then picks up the lantern she'd left behind when she rushed out. He smiles slowly, remembering the way she tasted, the way she felt in his arms. Tomorrow he'll talk to Duncan and find out more about this visiting girl. There is something about her that seems strangely familiar, but he can't put his finger on it yet. He'll figure that out in time. For now he focuses on one thought.

He will see her again.

A/N Happy Birthday ChelleyPam! More coming in a couple days.