Fic: His Lady Luck
Title: His Lady Luck
Rating: PG
Warnings: none really
Characters: Sebastian "Bass" Monroe/Charlotte "Charlie" Matheson
Prompt: Lady Luck
Author's comment: I'm less than thrilled with the results. It completely got away from me. It would not be tamed. However, it's the first fic I've seen through to completion in several years, so I'm rusty, to say the least!
"This is crazy," Charlie manages, shaking her head in vigorous denial, "you can't just point out three men and order me to pick one for a...a...husband!" She eyed the pathetic selection.
Suitor Number One was about her age, maybe even a bit younger. Charlie had caught him following her around several times over the past few days. On one trip out for water, he attempted to grab and kiss her. She quickly and painfully put an end to that idea.
Suitor Number Two was standing in the midst of six children all under the age of ten, with an infant in his arms. He was obviously looking for a mother for his children. Unfortunately, for him, she wasn’t feeling very maternal.
Suitor Number Three was the oldest, probably in his late fifties. She didn’t remember seeing him before, not that it mattered. She was not in the market for a husband.
"Sister Charlotte,” Brother Loyal pitched his voice low, trying to sound soothing, but Charlie caught the lurking menace, “as God’s humble servant it is my duty to protect the immortal souls of the members of my flock...."
"I am NOT a member of your flock, herd, gaggle of geese or anything else," Charlie explodes in exasperation. "We sought out your hospitality," she nearly chokes on the word, "only because we needed medical help for Sebastian," Charlie said, gesturing to the prone figure sprawled in the dirt at Brother Loyal’s feet. Monroe had ruled the boxing rings in New Vegas when the fight was one on one. However, here Brother Loyal’s devoted followers outnumbered him. It didn’t help that he had still been recovering.
It was a freak accident. Monroe reaching for the spit to turn the rabbit they were fixing for dinner, when a log popped in the fire. The resulting shower of sparks landed on the threadbare sleeve of his shirt, quickly setting it aflame. The ensuing burns had not looked bad at first. Monroe had even joked that the resulting scar might be a blessing; the distinctive “M” tattoo on his forearm forever changed. However, despite their best efforts to keep the wound clean, infection set in, and with it a fever.
It was times like those when Charlie wished she had been less of a brat whenever Maggie offered to teach her about herbal medicines.
“Sister Charlotte,” Brother Loyal’s voice dragged Charlie out of her memories and back to the present, “you and your “friend”, by your own admission, have traveled together for weeks. I offered you both the honorable solution to cleanse your souls; your friend soundly rejected the idea. That doesn’t change the fact that the impropriety of your close association requires a remedy.”
When, a week earlier, she had spotted the remote settlement hugging Texas’ border with the Wastelands, Monroe’s condition had deteriorated and she was on the verge of collapse from practically carrying him for the prior two days. The settlement, a religious enclave, welcomed them, offering food, shelter, and the medical assistance that Monroe needed. All had been fine, until Charlie learned the community thought Monroe was her father. Her mistake was in correcting the misconception. Traveling with her father was fine; traveling with an unrelated, unmarried man was not.
“These men have all stepped forward with offers of marriage and a purity of heart to overlook the immorality of your behavior.”
Charlie could only gape at the absurdity. Before she could formulate a response, a hacking cough turned all eyes to Monroe as he struggled to his feet. Charlie tried to go to him, but Suitor Number One held her back. She stomped on his foot when a wayward hand cupped around her breast.
Monroe may have flatly rejected the suggestion that he marry Charlie; but he also rejected the idea that someone else assume do so, leading to his present bruised and battered condition. His body ached and protested his every move and his throat raw from the fever earlier in the week.
Nevertheless, he forced his battered body erect, refusing to show weakness to Brother Loyal’s, what had Charlie called them? Gaggle of geese?
“You’re a self-righteous aggrandizing prick, Brother Loyal, a charlatan of the highest order,” Monroe rasped through bloody split lips. “And do you know how I know that? I was you not too long ago. You’ve got it all wrong, Brother. Charlotte is purity itself. She found me, wallowing in a modern day Sodom, partaking of every vice and sin that came my way. Hell, I invented new ones. Despite that, despite knowing the even greater evils that haunt my soul, she pulled me out, saving me from myself.”
Sebastian “Bass” Monroe was no longer President of anything, nor did he wish to be. He’d tossed aside that façade with barely a second thought. That didn’t mean he had forgotten how to wrap himself in the persona. He could feel the internal transformation from Bass to President Monroe; from charming deferential guest to ruthless dictator permeate his being like a malevolent spirit.
Charlie watched as her genial traveling companion turned into President Monroe in front of her disbelieving eyes. The changes were subtle yet obvious in the squaring of the shoulders, the set of the jaw. It is his eyes, however, turning from a warm, clear blue to the glacial blue of an iced over lake in the depths of a Wisconsin winter that finalizes the look.
Instinctively she recoils away from the monster of her nightmares, forgetting she was in the arms of Suitor Number One; for a fleeting moment, she wonders who presents the greater threat. Suitor Number One wins when he presses his groin against her ass. This time, when she stomps on his foot, she also twists out of his grasp. The fist that connects with his jaw would make Miles proud.
Monroe grabs her hand, pulling her against him, wrapping an arm around her waist, anchoring her to his side. “You have no idea what I am capable of, no idea the horrors I have committed,” Monroe growls, his cold eyes boring with deadly intent at Suitor Number One, who finally learns his lesson and slowly backs off several steps.
"Charlotte does. Charlotte has suffered because of me. I didn’t pull the trigger, but because of me, her father is dead. I didn’t pull the trigger, but because of me, her brother is dead. I didn’t order it, but because of me, her mother spent years as a prisoner. I had the power to release her, instead I ordered her torture.”
Charlie wasn’t the only one gasping at the blunt litany of horrors. The faces of Brother Loyal and his flock reflected their collective shock.
Monroe looked over at Charlotte. They'd developed a fragile friendship over the past several weeks. He didn't deserve it, but had come to rely upon it. He knew what he was doing next would either shatter it forever, or continue the healing Charlotte brought to his life.
He really didn't want to do this before an audience, but he no longer controlled the conditions. Monroe turned Charlotte in his arms. 'Charlotte...Charlie...when you found me in New Vegas, I knew you tracked me down, intending to kill me. Honestly, I only regretted you took so long to find me. The life I was living was one that I did not mind leaving. My whole world ended when a drunk driver killed my entire family before the Blackout. My faith, if I ever had any, in a higher power lost along with them. My faith in humanity was lost serving two tours in Iraq and the daily dose of man's inhumanity to man. My faith in friendship was lost when my best friend held a gun to my head, threatening to kill me."
Monroe startled when Charlotte reached up and gently wiped a tear from his cheek, he had not realized he was even crying.
"Bass, stop, this isn't necessary...."
He cut her off, "It is, Charlotte, this is my penance. Your mother once told me I always made excuses for my actions, she was right. But no more, Charlotte. I can't excuse my life away any longer. I have to own my mistakes. When I arrived in New Vegas, I needed funds; the only way to earn some quick money was boxing. I'm good at it, always have been. I could have fought in any of the casinos, but I chose The Lady Luck. I figured I was due for some. And she was lucky, I was surviving. Then you walked in, meaning to kill me, and I was ready to let you. Instead, for some reason, you chose to let me live. Why I don't know. I can't waste that gift you've given me, you're my own personal Lady Luck, Charlotte Matheson, and I don't want to go through the rest of my life without you in it. Marry me, Charlotte."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Rachel looked down at the paper Charlie handed her. A Marriage Certificate. She blinked and read it again. It didn't change. It still said that Charlotte Matheson was married to Sebastian Monroe. She handed to paper off to Miles, who looked at as if reading is a concept he had never encountered before.
"I promise you, Bass, I'm going to be the Mother-in-Law from hell," was all Rachel could manage.
Bass smiled, pulling his wife against his side and nuzzling her neck, enjoying watching Rachel's discomfort. "I've already warned Charlotte to hide all the screwdrivers…Mom."
He wasn't sure how he avoided that fork.
Rating: PG
Warnings: none really
Characters: Sebastian "Bass" Monroe/Charlotte "Charlie" Matheson
Prompt: Lady Luck
Author's comment: I'm less than thrilled with the results. It completely got away from me. It would not be tamed. However, it's the first fic I've seen through to completion in several years, so I'm rusty, to say the least!
"This is crazy," Charlie manages, shaking her head in vigorous denial, "you can't just point out three men and order me to pick one for a...a...husband!" She eyed the pathetic selection.
Suitor Number One was about her age, maybe even a bit younger. Charlie had caught him following her around several times over the past few days. On one trip out for water, he attempted to grab and kiss her. She quickly and painfully put an end to that idea.
Suitor Number Two was standing in the midst of six children all under the age of ten, with an infant in his arms. He was obviously looking for a mother for his children. Unfortunately, for him, she wasn’t feeling very maternal.
Suitor Number Three was the oldest, probably in his late fifties. She didn’t remember seeing him before, not that it mattered. She was not in the market for a husband.
"Sister Charlotte,” Brother Loyal pitched his voice low, trying to sound soothing, but Charlie caught the lurking menace, “as God’s humble servant it is my duty to protect the immortal souls of the members of my flock...."
"I am NOT a member of your flock, herd, gaggle of geese or anything else," Charlie explodes in exasperation. "We sought out your hospitality," she nearly chokes on the word, "only because we needed medical help for Sebastian," Charlie said, gesturing to the prone figure sprawled in the dirt at Brother Loyal’s feet. Monroe had ruled the boxing rings in New Vegas when the fight was one on one. However, here Brother Loyal’s devoted followers outnumbered him. It didn’t help that he had still been recovering.
It was a freak accident. Monroe reaching for the spit to turn the rabbit they were fixing for dinner, when a log popped in the fire. The resulting shower of sparks landed on the threadbare sleeve of his shirt, quickly setting it aflame. The ensuing burns had not looked bad at first. Monroe had even joked that the resulting scar might be a blessing; the distinctive “M” tattoo on his forearm forever changed. However, despite their best efforts to keep the wound clean, infection set in, and with it a fever.
It was times like those when Charlie wished she had been less of a brat whenever Maggie offered to teach her about herbal medicines.
“Sister Charlotte,” Brother Loyal’s voice dragged Charlie out of her memories and back to the present, “you and your “friend”, by your own admission, have traveled together for weeks. I offered you both the honorable solution to cleanse your souls; your friend soundly rejected the idea. That doesn’t change the fact that the impropriety of your close association requires a remedy.”
When, a week earlier, she had spotted the remote settlement hugging Texas’ border with the Wastelands, Monroe’s condition had deteriorated and she was on the verge of collapse from practically carrying him for the prior two days. The settlement, a religious enclave, welcomed them, offering food, shelter, and the medical assistance that Monroe needed. All had been fine, until Charlie learned the community thought Monroe was her father. Her mistake was in correcting the misconception. Traveling with her father was fine; traveling with an unrelated, unmarried man was not.
“These men have all stepped forward with offers of marriage and a purity of heart to overlook the immorality of your behavior.”
Charlie could only gape at the absurdity. Before she could formulate a response, a hacking cough turned all eyes to Monroe as he struggled to his feet. Charlie tried to go to him, but Suitor Number One held her back. She stomped on his foot when a wayward hand cupped around her breast.
Monroe may have flatly rejected the suggestion that he marry Charlie; but he also rejected the idea that someone else assume do so, leading to his present bruised and battered condition. His body ached and protested his every move and his throat raw from the fever earlier in the week.
Nevertheless, he forced his battered body erect, refusing to show weakness to Brother Loyal’s, what had Charlie called them? Gaggle of geese?
“You’re a self-righteous aggrandizing prick, Brother Loyal, a charlatan of the highest order,” Monroe rasped through bloody split lips. “And do you know how I know that? I was you not too long ago. You’ve got it all wrong, Brother. Charlotte is purity itself. She found me, wallowing in a modern day Sodom, partaking of every vice and sin that came my way. Hell, I invented new ones. Despite that, despite knowing the even greater evils that haunt my soul, she pulled me out, saving me from myself.”
Sebastian “Bass” Monroe was no longer President of anything, nor did he wish to be. He’d tossed aside that façade with barely a second thought. That didn’t mean he had forgotten how to wrap himself in the persona. He could feel the internal transformation from Bass to President Monroe; from charming deferential guest to ruthless dictator permeate his being like a malevolent spirit.
Charlie watched as her genial traveling companion turned into President Monroe in front of her disbelieving eyes. The changes were subtle yet obvious in the squaring of the shoulders, the set of the jaw. It is his eyes, however, turning from a warm, clear blue to the glacial blue of an iced over lake in the depths of a Wisconsin winter that finalizes the look.
Instinctively she recoils away from the monster of her nightmares, forgetting she was in the arms of Suitor Number One; for a fleeting moment, she wonders who presents the greater threat. Suitor Number One wins when he presses his groin against her ass. This time, when she stomps on his foot, she also twists out of his grasp. The fist that connects with his jaw would make Miles proud.
Monroe grabs her hand, pulling her against him, wrapping an arm around her waist, anchoring her to his side. “You have no idea what I am capable of, no idea the horrors I have committed,” Monroe growls, his cold eyes boring with deadly intent at Suitor Number One, who finally learns his lesson and slowly backs off several steps.
"Charlotte does. Charlotte has suffered because of me. I didn’t pull the trigger, but because of me, her father is dead. I didn’t pull the trigger, but because of me, her brother is dead. I didn’t order it, but because of me, her mother spent years as a prisoner. I had the power to release her, instead I ordered her torture.”
Charlie wasn’t the only one gasping at the blunt litany of horrors. The faces of Brother Loyal and his flock reflected their collective shock.
Monroe looked over at Charlotte. They'd developed a fragile friendship over the past several weeks. He didn't deserve it, but had come to rely upon it. He knew what he was doing next would either shatter it forever, or continue the healing Charlotte brought to his life.
He really didn't want to do this before an audience, but he no longer controlled the conditions. Monroe turned Charlotte in his arms. 'Charlotte...Charlie...when you found me in New Vegas, I knew you tracked me down, intending to kill me. Honestly, I only regretted you took so long to find me. The life I was living was one that I did not mind leaving. My whole world ended when a drunk driver killed my entire family before the Blackout. My faith, if I ever had any, in a higher power lost along with them. My faith in humanity was lost serving two tours in Iraq and the daily dose of man's inhumanity to man. My faith in friendship was lost when my best friend held a gun to my head, threatening to kill me."
Monroe startled when Charlotte reached up and gently wiped a tear from his cheek, he had not realized he was even crying.
"Bass, stop, this isn't necessary...."
He cut her off, "It is, Charlotte, this is my penance. Your mother once told me I always made excuses for my actions, she was right. But no more, Charlotte. I can't excuse my life away any longer. I have to own my mistakes. When I arrived in New Vegas, I needed funds; the only way to earn some quick money was boxing. I'm good at it, always have been. I could have fought in any of the casinos, but I chose The Lady Luck. I figured I was due for some. And she was lucky, I was surviving. Then you walked in, meaning to kill me, and I was ready to let you. Instead, for some reason, you chose to let me live. Why I don't know. I can't waste that gift you've given me, you're my own personal Lady Luck, Charlotte Matheson, and I don't want to go through the rest of my life without you in it. Marry me, Charlotte."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Rachel looked down at the paper Charlie handed her. A Marriage Certificate. She blinked and read it again. It didn't change. It still said that Charlotte Matheson was married to Sebastian Monroe. She handed to paper off to Miles, who looked at as if reading is a concept he had never encountered before.
"I promise you, Bass, I'm going to be the Mother-in-Law from hell," was all Rachel could manage.
Bass smiled, pulling his wife against his side and nuzzling her neck, enjoying watching Rachel's discomfort. "I've already warned Charlotte to hide all the screwdrivers…Mom."
He wasn't sure how he avoided that fork.