Charlie frowned as she watched the soldier scurry out of the room. "Miles, why are we here?" she demanded.

Miles pressed the tumbler of alcohol and ice to his forehead. Damn but his temperature seemed to be up today. It was probably all the walking they did. "We're here to see Monroe," he replied, not opening his eyes. "Just like I told the soldier."

"Which doesn't make any sense," Charlie snapped. "I mean, you wake me in the middle of the night, drag me from the Georgia Federation and sneak into Independence Hall only to tell me to sit here and wait? What the hell are we waiting for?"

"For me, I'd assume," a soft voice said. Charlie's head snapped towards the entrance where Bass Monroe now stood. Bass took in the situation. Miles was sitting next to his side board with a glass of whiskey pressed to his temple not looking at anything. Charlie was leaning on the window sill next to him. Both had been stripped of weapons. "Hello Miles, Charlotte."

"Easy, Charlie," Miles said as he listened to her scramble for a weapon. "He's not going to kill us." He opened one eye to look at Bass. "He wants to know how we got in first."

"That information would be nice," Bass nodded.

Miles smirked at him as he sipped his whiskey. "Let's just say you have some holes in your security that you might want to have checked out."

"I'll be sure to do that," Bass agreed. He began to slowly walk towards Miles, his eyes flicking to Charlie every so often. She was wary of him but she didn't move from Miles' side. "You come into my office, start drinking my whiskey, order my soldiers around. Miles, I'm beginning to think you have a death wish."

"Funny thing that," Miles said as he put the tumbler down still half full. He stared at the reflection of the amber light in the ice cubes. Then he smiled up at Bass. It was a smile full of pain and heartache but it was still a smile. "I'm dying," he said bluntly.

Charlie and Bass reacted exactly the same way. "What?"

"God's honest truth," Miles replied, running his fingers over the tumbler. He sighed. "Always figured I'd go out in a hail of bullets you know? Or at the very least liver failure. But this? Didn't see this one coming." Miles got to his feet, the morbid air about him gone. "But hell, everyone has to go sometime right?"

"What are you talking about?" Charlie snapped. "You're not dying."

"No I actually am," Miles told her.

Bass frowned. "How long do you have?"

"Let's see, Charlie and I started out from camp about two weeks after I learned I was sick…and given how long the trip took us…" Miles shrugged. "A week. Two if someone up there really likes me." The painful smile was back. "And we both know that's not true." Miels started laughing but it quickly turned into coughing. He felt his knees go but before he could hit the floor, two sets of hands were on him. The stray though that this was the first time Bass and Charlie had ever worked together crossed his mind for brief moment before he started heaving.

"There's a trash can next to my desk," Bass told Charlie. "Go get it."

Charlie barely darted back in time to get the bucket in front of Miles. She and Monroe continued to hold Miles as his lunch came up. Both of them tried to ignore the amount of blood that came up as well. "You're going to be alright," Charlie whispered as the vomiting slowed. "You're going to be just fine."

"My bedroom is behind that door," Bass pointed. "Help him into bed. I'll get the doctor."

Charlie nodded and helped Miles to his feet. "Come on," she said. "We need to get you lying down."

"I don't need to lie down," Miles muttered.

"Miles, don't fucking argue," Bass snapped. He hurried out the door and down the hall where he found Jeremy heading for him. "Jeremy, thank god," he panted.

"Sir?" Jeremy frowned.

"Jeremy, I need you to get my personal doctor. Tell him he needs to come over to my room right away. I don't care what he's doing, he needs to be here."

"Sir, what's going on?"

"It's Miles, Jeremy, he's sick. He vomited blood. Now get the doctor."

Jeremy snapped off a salute. "Yes sir."

Bass hurried back to his bedroom. Charlie was struggling to pull the covers off and continue to hold onto Miles. "Let me help," he said quietly. Charlie held Miles up while Bass pulled the sheets and covers back. Together they sat him down then pulled his boots and jacket off before maneuvering him into bed. "The doctor is on his way," Bass explained as he watched Charlie cover Miles with blankets.

"He's going to tell you the same thing," Miles said, not opening his eyes. "I'm dying and that's that."

"You've certainly made your peace with this," Bass noted.

"I never was one to fight a lost cause," Miles pointed out.

"Well I like to think my people are somewhat better trained than those rag tag rebels," Bass retorted. "So we'll see what my doctor says."

Miles tried to sit up but couldn't manage it. He sighed as he turned to Bass. "Call in all the doctors you want. The diagnosis isn't going to change. Now can we please focus on something else?"

"This is my house and I am still the President," Bass insisted. "We'll focus on what I say we'll focus on. Understood?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Sir," a new voice said.

"Doctor," Bass nodded. "This is your patient. I want to know what's wrong with him."

"Yes sir," the doctor agreed. "I'll need you both to wait outside whiel I examine the patient. This won't take long."

"Of course," Bass agreed. He held the door open. "Charlotte."

Charlie didn't want to follow him out but she had no choice. They waited in tense silence in his office while the doctor examined Miles. It was a relief when the older man finally came out. "Well?" Charlie demanded.

"He's a very sick man," the doctor said.

"That's what he told us," Bass replied. "He said he had two weeks to live."

"Did he?" the doctor asked. "Sir, permission to be blunt."

"Please," Bass gestured.

"He was being incredibly optimistic. That man has a week on the outside. Unless you can find something to make him fight harder than he is right now. But I'd doubt it. I've never seen a man so happy to leave this world."

Charlie wanted to snap at the doctor but she held it in. "Is it contagious? What he has?"

"No, you can see if you'd like. He won't be up long though. He asked me for a sedative. Said he's been in some pain recently."

"Charlotte, why don't you go talk to your uncle," Bass suggested. "The doctor and I will discuss what's wrong with him."

Charlie didn't want to take orders from Monroe but she was dying to see Miles again. She darted into the bedroom, surprised at how pale her uncle looked. "Miles?" she called.

"Right here," Miles told her. "Come sit. I can't sit up like this."

Charlie found a chair and settled next to the bed. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

Miles gave an awkward shrug. "What would you have done?"

"I don't know. Something."

"Nothing useful."

"You don't know that."

"Actually I do because there's nothing useful that anyone can do. I am dying Charlie. The sooner everyone accepts that the better."

"I don't want to accept it."

"Your choice. But it's still going to happen. So I'm telling you, best make your peace with it while I'm still here instead of waiting to say goodbye."

Charlei took his hand. "You can't die, you promised."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But I can't control this one. I don't have a say in whether or not I get to go through this."

"So you're just not going to fight?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "I couldn't stop fighting anymore than you could stop being a whiny brat." Charlie gave a wet chuckle. "But odds are that I'm still going to lose. Still, if I'm really lucky and someone up there really likes me…well maybe I'll get enough time to say goodbye to everyone before I go."

Charlie squeezed his hand. "You will," she promised quietly.

Miles struggled to sit up but only managed to move a few inches. "Look, Charlie I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," Charlie agreed.

"We're…we're going to be here a while. So try not to rock the boat okay? I know you and Monroe don't get along and I'm not asking you to. But at least stay out of his way and don't go looking for fights."

"Alright," she said after a moment.

"Thank you. Now I want to talk to Bass."

"I'm right here," he said from the doorway. "Charlotte, if you'd go to my office please."

Miles looked at her. She leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'll see you in the morning," she promised him.

"Sure."

Charlie went out to the office where a fair haired officer stood there. "Miss Matheson," he greeted. "I'm Captain Baker. The President asked me to take you to your room."

"I'm not going to some cell," Charlie told him.

"No, I mean your bedroom. So you can sleep. Aren't you tired from all that walking?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she insisted.

"So you're just going to what? Stand here all day?"

"I won't let him hurt Miles."

Jeremy sighed. "Kid, I hate to break it to you, but Miles is dying. There's not much Monroe can do to him anymore. So you might as well get some sleep and come see him in the morning."

"Captain Baker—"

"Call me Jeremy."

Charlie pursed her lips. "Jeremy then. Monroe and Miles have way too much history for me to just leave the two of them alone."

"But most if it is good history." Charlie paused. "You know I'm right. It's only recently that they stopped getting along. And that's what Miles is banking on. So you need to go to your room before Monroe remembers that he's not supposed to like your family anymore."

Charlie hesitated. She had promised Miles she wouldn't go looking for fights. "Okay," she relented. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything you want," Jeremy agreed as he led her out of her office.

"How do you know my uncle and Monroe so well?"

"Kid, it's a long story."

While they were arguing in the front room, Bass took over Charlie's seat by Miles. "So you're dying and you come to me," he said quietly.

"That's about the size of it," Miles nodded. "Doc tell you what I have?"

"He tossed around a lot of medical terms I didn't really understand but the one sticking point was that you are letting life slip through your fingers faster than sand through the sieve."

"Maybe I am," Miles agreed. "But aren't you the one that wanted me dead?"

"I never said that."

"I don't know, Bass, the choppers coming after my family was pretty clear on that point."

"That was…"

"What it was doesn't matter, not right now," Miles told him. "And I'm about to conk out from drugs so why don't we hold the deep, philosophical conversations for another time?"

"I can do that," Bass agreed. "Not like you're going anywhere."

"No I'm not." Miles started to let sleep take him but opened one eye. "You're not gonna shoot me in my sleep or anything are you?"

"Why would I do that? We still have to have our deep philosophical conversation."

"Fair point. But you are going to move me to another room I hope."

"Well I would like my bed back."

"That's…that's fair. God, these are some good drugs. Can't…keep my…eyes open."

"Go to sleep Miles. I promised I wouldn't shoot you."

"What about Charlie?"

"I promise I will not shoot Charlotte either. No matter how much she annoys me."

"One of you be here when I…wake?"

"Both of us most likely."

"Good…night…b…b…brother."