Don't Leave Me (1/1): A Revolution Fanfic

Rating: K

Pairing/Theme: Miles/Charlie/Maggie, family-centric

BEWARE: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR 1X04 BELOW.

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Author's Note: I know I'm jumping all over the place with my fanfics… But all of my shows are back, and WOW, am I getting inspired. If any of you guys watch Revolution, but Monday's episode really hit me pretty hard. I didn't seen Maggie's death coming at all, and that being said, I thought it was a needed surprise. It sets a good, realistic tone for the rest of the show. The world following an apocalypse is not an easy place. You don't live after severing an artery.

I wanted to quickly mention Tracy Spiridako's performance… It was amazing. I thought she did a fantastic job, and she even gave me chills. Her performance is what made me want to write this.

Inspiration: Maggie's last scene in 1x04, and in particular, Charlie's line to her as she dies.

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"Please don't leave me, Maggie. Everybody leaves me."

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Charlie hadn't wanted to see it when she first arrived back in the diner, but part of her knew that Maggie was already gone by the moment she crouched down in front of her. The blonde's eyes were glassy already, though Charlie told herself it was only from the pain. People went delirious from pain, didn't they? Their eyes went unfocused, but they'd come back soon, wouldn't they?

Rocking back and forth on the dirt with her arms wrapped around her knees and her head buried into them, Charlie felt like she was going delirious herself. She would've suspected that delirium wouldn't hurt this much, though.

She couldn't breathe. It had been hours, but still, she couldn't catch her breath. Part of her scowled vindictively at that, finally appeased—at least she'd gotten her comeuppance for treating Maggie as horribly as she had in the past. And for letting her guard down for one second… and letting that man grab her.

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think. It didn't help. Cutting off the world didn't cut off her mind, or shut down her memories. As the hot tears cascaded down her cheeks, every fight between her and Maggie in the past few years ran through her mind. Just as her tears' wet streaks were drying on her face, others arrived promptly to cover them. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. All the times she'd accused Maggie of trying to be her mother ran through her head. All the times she'd shouted that Maggie was less than, and hated, and unknown…

Charlie didn't know if it was her grief-stricken mind that was making her past voice louder and angrier, or her shattering sobs, but either way, it didn't matter. The words didn't change. She could remember every name she'd ever called Maggie—jerk, bitch, fake mother, stranger, outsider, whore—

Charlie's breath caught, and her body doubled over as she clutched at her stomach. She felt like heaving. She pressed her forehead into the dirt, willing the bile in the back of her throat to rise high enough so that she could dry heave. She didn't have enough food in her to expel; then again, when did she ever have enough? She couldn't deal with all of these thoughts, all of these memories in her head. She'd rather focus on vomiting than being locked up with her thoughts. She couldn't deal with all that she'd left unsaid.

She'd never told Maggie that she'd loved her. Never. Not once. Not even as she was dying.

Charlie sucked in a breath at that though, but she was unable to really take it in. Did I love her? Part of her wondered, genuinely confused. Did I love her when she was alive, or is it only now, after she's dead? Is it only because I feel guilty for getting her killed? She could feel her lungs constrict from lack of oxygen, her throat straining and stretching for the air that was so close yet unable to gain entrance to—

"Breathe!" Miles's sharp voice cut through her wheezing, made her jump, and caused her body to lurch forward. His hands where on her shoulders before she had a chance to run—or attack. "Breathe, Charlie. It's just me." Without a word of explanation, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "Breathe." His voice was gruff in her ear, but beneath it, strained—and worried. Almost concerned. "Breathe, Charlie, come on. Come on."

Finally, she did. Her lungs burned for air and greedily gasped it in when it was offered.

"Did—Did you mean it, Miles?" She gasped, clutching onto his shirt as if for dear life. Her frenzied eyes searched his. He wasn't leaving, too, was he? She couldn't take another desertion. First her mother, then her father, then Danny, and now Maggie… Everyone had abandoned her, no matter if the departure was voluntary or not. Everyone left her because she drove everyone away. She was alone; her family decimated. He—a distant uncle and former enemy—was all she had left. And she didn't even deserve him. "What you said, did you—"

"Yes," he answered calmly, slowly. She opened her mouth in disbelief at his tone. How could he be so calm, so collected? He was reaching for her hands, gently separating her claw-like fingers from his shirt when she remembered why he was acting like this.

Miles didn't know Maggie. Miles didn't care.

Miles Matheson, former (or possibly not-so-former, Charlie was beginning to suspect) Commanding General of the Monroe Militia didn't give a shit about anybody or anything. Least of all his niece's stepmother, a woman he knew she didn't even like to begin with.

But Charlie had liked her. The rest—the anger, the annoyance, the eye rolling—it meant nothing. Charlie had liked her, loved her, looked up to her. That woman had traversed across the country, a foreign country, multiple times—over three thousand miles each way—and survived on her own for years during and after. She'd been so strong, stronger than Charlie had ever been or could ever hope to be. And what did Charlie do?

Charlie yelled at her that she hated her, that she was ruining her family, that she was trying to be her mother but that she never would be. She screamed and shouted and ranted. You will never be part of our family! was her weapon of choice. She saw the damage on Maggie's face, in her eyes, saw the lines on her face grow deeper every time she said it. If there had been sturdy doors to slam or non-essential things to throw, she would have done both of those things. She had wanted to make Maggie's life a living hell for invading her own, for taking her father when he and Danny were all she had left…

Charlie's sobs turned to hysterical laugher. She could feel Miles's body stiffen against hers; uncomfortable and unaware of what to do with this rapid change in her behavior.

Well, she'd accomplished that, hadn't she? She'd made Maggie's life a living hell… and she'd gotten the woman killed, to boot.

She bled out because Charlie was neither watchful at the time of her abduction nor capable in the minutes afterward. She bled out because Charlie let her, because Charlie was weak and stupid and couldn't take care of anyone. Her brother's disappearance and her father's death had proved all of that, time and time again.

"Are you… okay?" Miles asked worriedly, placing his hands on her shoulders as her body wracked with terrible laugher. Charlie shook her head, doubling over and clutching at her stomach. It ached worse than it ever had—through stomachaches and disease, this hurt more. Her muscles were already fatigued from heaving and crying; laughing only added salt to the raw wounds. "Charlie, talk to me." His voice was sharp again, and clearly worried. Charlie's laughter rose. She wasn't surprised at his worry; she wasn't surprised that he didn't know what to do with a hysterical woman. Judging from his and Nora's hostile behavior, she doubted he had any idea what to do with a woman, period.

"I'm—fine," she managed with a weak chuckle, just as the last vestiges of her laughter were finally dying down. With their departure, her psyche was wracked with shame and confusion. Why had she started laughing? Why had she been smiling? Maggie was dead. She'd died today. Charlie's father's love and the closest thing Charlie had to a mother since she was five… had died.

The tears collected again in strength, regrouping tenfold after their brief respite.

She was grateful when her uncle pulled her into his arms. She didn't question his kindness, didn't wonder why he was being nice to her or why he was taking care of her. All she focused on was the fact that he wasn't leaving—not yet, anyway.

She fell asleep in his arms less than a half hour later, he body and mind exhausted to the point that she barely knew her own name anymore. Her last thought before she went under was how long she'd be able to play the grieving orphan card, how long she could force him to stay before he finally turned tail and ran off to his militia buddies.

She gave him a week, tops.

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Author's Note: I know this was really short. It was just a quick reaction to what happened in the last ep. I hope you like it. Reviews would be LOVELY, if you would be so kind. This was my first foray ever into writing for Revolution. Thank you so much for reading.

I'd love to hear your thoughts below. :)