I know another one but it wouldn't leave me alone!

Things you need to know Miles didn't leave Bass. Militia still killed Ben but for unrelated reasons to the show and Danny still died later on but it had nothing to do with Bass/Miles. Charlie went looking for Miles but got abducted along the way.

Everything else will be revealed in the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Revolution or anything else that you recognise.


Prologue

She's been here four days.

Four days of beatings, starvation, interrogationsand being left to lay in her own filth. Her mouth tastes like moth balls and her chest feels like it's weighted down by lead. She doesn't mind it as much as they think she does. It's familiar actually, oddly comforting, it reminds her of the Pits. That's where they found her, where she'd called her home before they busted in and slaughtered most that had been there. She'd been there for a year, she'd been picked up outside New Vegas, been told she'd make a pretty penny for her services, only she didn't play too well with others. They hadn't touched her since she'd wrapped a chain link around the first client's neck and pulled until it'd made that resounding crack. So they'd put her on display instead, used to entice customers in. She was good at it too, been told that just her blue eyes alone were hypnotising. Apparently the Militia soldiers agreed; herself and a handful of the girls had been spared, the only difference being that those other girls were safely tucked away with high ranking officers who'd took a shine to them. She'd refused to whore herself out so here she was; a war prisoner. It's almost laughable. She hasn't been a fighter for a very long time, not since Danny.

She still hasn't spoken, hasn't given them the satisfaction. She shouldn't have had to, if they'd took one look at the dog tags around her neck they'd have all the answers they needed but it didn't matter. They didn't matter, they were nothing but foot soldiers sent to deal with the filth, do the dirty work so those in charge don't have to. So she waits. She'll wait until someone more important shows face and then she'll talk.

Oh, she'll talk.

It's been eight days. They feed her now although the beatings don't stop; Strausser seems to take perverse pleasure in trying to coax out cries of pain before relenting and sending in her meals. Servants bring her plentiful plates of food with varying expressions on their faces, some pitying, some disgusted but some, some are awestruck. It almost makes her want to talk but she doesn't. It won't be long now.

She's heard the whispers outside her cell. President Monroe and General Matheson are coming back in two days. Two days and Monroe gets to decide what to do with her, apparently they don't have as much leeway in the Capital as they do outside it, they can't just off her and be done with it or worse take her unwillingly; apparently there are strict rules about that. Colour her surprised, they didn't seem to have a problem with taking unwilling women back in her hometown.

It's been ten days. Her skins been scrubbed raw, blood and grime washed from her hair and they've let her put her dress back on. It's as short and tight as she remembers and she both loves and loathes it. If it wasn't for her dark ringed eyes and varying shades of bruises she'd say she looked almost normal.

President Monroe is home and willing to see her straight away, Captain Baker quietly informs her, tugging up her strap and looking like he's done her the world's biggest favour. Maybe he has, he could have kept her in her cell, let Strausser have his way with her finally but he didn't so maybe she owes him. Maybe she won't slit his throat open given the opportunity.

The walk to Monroe's office is a long one and she's sort of grateful they didn't force her feet into her towering heels, the cool marble feels nice but it doesn't change the fact that her body is beaten to its extent, she's exhausted and the only thing keeping her upright is Baker. He smooth's a hand down her hair comfortingly as they wait outside the large wooden doors disregarding the odd looks he gets off his fellow officers as he does so and all she can think about is Danny, Danny who was always so fascinated with her hair. She decides then and there that no, she won't kill him.

They're summoned inside and the movement makes her force bile back down her throat. She steadies herself, her bleary gaze locking on the imposing man before her. She doesn't remember much about him pre-blackout, just the bright blue eyes and wide smile. He's actually kind of handsome, she thought he'd be disgusting, fat or at the very least disfigured in some sort of way. Maybe it's just his soul that's dark and damaged.

His eyes sweep down her body approvingly but she hears the small tut he gives at the sight of her various wounds. That's nice; the evil dictator who has slaughtered hundreds is disappointed in his men's treatment of her. She feels like she should be honoured. He side glances at Strausser who stares back unflinching but she catches the slight nervous twitch as he swallows. It seems he does fear someone after all.

Baker is giving him the rundown, where they found her, that she was unwilling to cooperate once rescued, violent even. That she hasn't spoken a word the entire time she's been here. She listens impassively, watches Monroe, stares back as he stares at her. His lips tug up into a half smirk at her stubbornness.

"So what do we call her?"

Baker blinks once, twice before answering slowly, "She didn't say."

Monroe only seems amused by his answer before he turns to her again, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Baker sighs while Strausser looks away in exasperation, they've played this game before, they know the results. But that was before, things are different now.

Her voice is scratchy and rough from lack of use but there's still something satisfying in her first words, "My name is Charlotte Matheson. I'm the niece of Miles Matheson, co-founder of the Monroe-Matheson Republic."

She takes great pleasure in the way Baker chokes on thin air as he stares at the side of her face wide eyed, the way Strausser blanches and goes pale looking like he'd love to be anywhere but there. Monroe's smile slips from his lips as they part in shock, something dark passing through his eyes as they cut to Strausser. They all flounder for something to say, Monroe even takes a step towards her but they needn't have.

"Charlie?!"

The voice is rough and deep and despite the tone of shock it's exactly how she remembers it. Miles Matheson's standing in the doorway looking completely shell-shocked. He might not remember her; from the look on his face he's having a hard time placing her from the happy toddler he'd played with but she remembers him. So she lets go, lets her brain turn off and her body gives out almost immediately, tumbling to the floor as it takes a reprieve from the pain she's in.

It was okay now, she'd found Uncle Miles, just like Dad had told her too.