Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.
This is only fan fiction.
Hope you like
Chapter 1
The stairs were narrow and the climb up the watchtower both long and difficult. Step by step, he moved further up to his final destination. From the top, he could see a view of the entire town below. He was breathing heavily but he needed to reach the top. He needed to see.
Bass could still hear the battle cries even though they were further and further away from him. Finally, he reached the top and stood in front of a big round window. He opened it and looked down at what was going on.
It was a mess; a disaster really.
Even though it was night, he could see clearly what was happening below him from the sea of torches. People were fighting— fighting hard against the enemy. It would be the final battle and would give whomever one final control over the town.
Bass had thought he'd been prepared for this. He and Miles had planned every move; every possible outcome for months. However, nothing would prepare him for the effect it would have over him. Too many memories of previous wars and battles flashed before his eyes and for the first time he felt overwhelmed.
"What's happening to me?" he asked himself. He felt his heart beating faster and faster and if he didn't calm down, he was sure he was going to have a heart attack.
The horror of what was happening below him wasn't helping at all. He felt so weak and that he might actually faint. Bass slowly dropped to his knees, but before he hit the ground he felt someone catching him and break his fall.
"Whoa, are you okay?" He heard a voice ask from behind him. His mouth opened to respond but the darkness overwhelmed him.
She wielded her sword and finished her enemy off. Another one came at her and she maneuvered through the gravel to take down her target. The battle cries were loud and she could hear it all so clearly.
Charlotte Matheson had been through it all before. She knew the drill, experience having taught her well. From losing her father and brother right in front of her, to watching her own mother go from crazy to psychotic. After Texas discovered what the patriots were up to and started bringing them down one by one, she knew she would join her uncle in the fight.
He and Monroe had been given an army to lead against the enemy and there'd never been a doubt in her mind that she'd be a part of it. Thinking back, she knew how much had changed; how much Monroe had changed. He'd gone from the dictator of the Republic to the man she fought beside now.
Charlie looked over to where the man himself and her uncle were fighting. She noticed then that Bass had drawn away from the fray and was headed to the watchtower.
What's he doing? She thought. This is not the time to steer away from the plan! She felt so aggravated, but another look at him gave her pause.
"Something's wrong," she said aloud as she rushed to follow him. She needed to see what was going on. He hadn't looked good and she was instantly worried. She remembered Miles telling her once about a night in a graveyard. She'd never asked about it again. The brief glance she'd seen when he'd stopped fighting had reminded her of the image Miles had painted when he'd told her of that night in Jasper.
After the events of the last year, she'd seen the toll that life had taken on a man she'd once hated more than any other. She climbed up the stairs, finally reaching the top. Charlie almost missed it, but somehow managed to stop Bass from falling. She would never have believed that the great General Sebastian Monroe would walk away from the battle and fall to his knees, but she understood why. Anyone would break after losing what he'd had.
6 months ago…..
"It's not gonna work Miles. Those sons of bitches are everywhere. We need more men, more fire power," Bass said.
"We got Texas on our side. They're an eight hundred pound gorilla compared to those Patriots," Miles yelled.
Both men had been at it for days now. Planning, strategizing and drinking far too much, they were exhausted. Suddenly the door burst open. It was the new leader of Texas, President Frank Blanchard.
"You two are still going at it?" He yelled. "Arguing with each other like a couple of school girls."
President Blanchard was a big tall man. He had a presence that would get everyone to turn for a second look— a real leader. On the other hand, he was a notorious ladies man who was known for being into some kinky Fifty Shades kind of stuff.
He walked into the room and poured himself a glass of whisky. He took a sip and looked around. It was an old office that was now the so called "war room" and was had been used for the past month by the two men he never thought he would fight alongside, especially after the bloody days of the Monroe Republic.
"Whatever it is you're planning on doing, you better do it fast. Those khaki sons of bitches are on their way here and they got double the fire power and soldiers. Turns out they got mind controlled agents everywhere and they are planning on using them. So you two better get your shit together and come up with a plan." With that, he put drink on the table and left the room.
"Well that was a great motivational speech." Bass said, sarcastically.
"He's right," Miles said with frustration, "we gotta think of something."
Bass and Miles knew that the pressure was on, but they didn't know they had so little of it left. The Patriots were on their way to finish what they started and try to get their president back from Texas.
Even though Texas rangers were whipping them out, still there seemed to be more and more of them every day. They'd discovered hidden Patriot camps they'd been previously unaware of and that their brainwashed solders were carefully hidden within the population all over the country, and quite possibly across the continent.
It was time to hit the Patriots and hit them hard if they wanted to end it. Texas may be an eight hundred pound gorilla, but the patriots were smart, sneaky and harder to beat than they'd imagined.
"Remember Scranton?"
Miles shook his head. "That's not gonna work."
"What about South Dakota?" Bass was willing to try anything at that point. Even a tactical win they had in some nameless small town.
Then Miles remembered. They had no other choice. He looked up at Bass. "Baltimore"
Bass swallowed and looked at Miles. "Are you sure?" I mean I like a good slaughter but…" He knew what that city meant to Miles. More like why he earned his nickname.
Miles sighed. "We have no other choice"
"Yeah but Miles—" He was worried about his friend. He wanted to beat the Patriots, but not enough for what that could do to Miles. The cost was too high.
"We're doing it," Miles said with determination, "end of story."
Resolved, he left the room.
They sit by the camp fire. The sky is pitch-black and the only light comes from the burning fire. The day has been a long and grueling one and their spirits are down. Miles is sleeping several feet from them, snoring in his sleeping bag. They'd said nothing all night, and yet they say so much just by looking at one another. Charlie and Monroe have always been able to have an entire conversation without ever speaking. "It's not your fault," He now says. "There was no way we could have seen it coming. They out maneuvered us."
He is trying to be sympathetic. She is inexperienced compared to Bass and her uncle and it had cost them a big advantage in the fight today. It had been a rookie mistake that she'd made in trying to prove herself to Miles.
Charlie plays with a stick in her hand trying to banish her morose thoughts. Her heart is heavy and she feels like the tears were about burst free. Bass looks at her, feeling her pain. He wants to comfort her. He gets up and sits next to her, holding her tight. She cries on his shoulder as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He lifts her chin. "It's okay. It's going to be okay," he tells her softly.
Charlie looks up at him, slowly bringing her lips to his and they kiss. It's soft and gentle aft first, soon progressing into something raw and needy. She opens her mouth and lets him in. Their tongues meet and the world around them and all the pain disappears.
He pulls her closer and his hands move from her shoulders to her back. They work around to cup her breast. Hers slide down his chest to his stomach, gently grazing his hardening… "Bass!"
"Bass!" He jolted upright, the voice calling his name having brought him back to reality. He looked around and realized that he was not outside by the fire; he must have fallen asleep in one of the tents. God, he was so exhausted.
It was just a dream… He looked up at Miles. He knew that face— something was very wrong.
"What-what's going on Miles?" Please don't let it be Charlotte, he silently prayed.
Miles looked at his friend. He knew the words he needed to say, but couldn't bring himself to speak them. After everything that Bass had been through, he was afraid that this was the one thing that would finally completely and permanently break him.
"You should go outside Bass," Miles finally said, forcing the words out.
Bass' heart began to pound. He jumped off the cot and raced outside. There were people standing near the entrance of the camp. Texan soldiers and the camp doctor were there, all standing next to a wagon, staring down at whatever was inside of it.
Bass couldn't tell what they were looking at. Everything around him seemed to blur. He swallowed hard and approached it. Some of the soldiers turned in his direction, but none could look him in the eye. Their faces said it all, making him fear what he was to find.
He could see the back of the wagon now. There was someone lying in the back, covered in a white sheet. Bass jumped up in the back and knelt next to the body concealed from view. The elderly doctor was now next to him. He put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, son."
With shaking hands, Bass pulled back the sheet and stared at the lifeless body in front of him.
"No." That's all he could say; all his mind was capable of processing as he looked down at his son, lying there with a bullet hole in his head. "Nooooo!"
Thank you WhhyNotitsfun for your help.
