A/N: Judging by all the promos for the rest of the season, I can tell that my story is going to become AU, so far the sake of this fanfic let's just say that Randall never went to Monroe about the power, ok?

Sebastian Monroe sat behind his desk in solitude. Leaning back, he twirled a handgun around on his desk, trying to occupy his fingers while his eyes scanned the room. From his seat at the center of the office, he could see every nook and cranny, every ornament on the wall. He was the only person with a desk in this room. He was the only one with the power here. It didn't used to be that way, though. Not too long ago, there were two occupants of this office, one desk in each corner. Bass was never alone then. Not when he had Miles, who was always so good at finding a way to break the silence in the room.

Bass hated silence. Silence meant there was no conversation, and no conversation made it far too easy to think. He spent too much time thinking now, about the way things used to be and how much he wished he could go back. For years he and Miles had worked together, sharing this office, sharing control of the Republic. They had worked constantly to better their nation and create order in the middle of the chaos. And yet, even in such serious times, everything seemed sure to work out, because they had each other. Both Bass and Miles and agreed to never abandon the other, they could count on each other. But then Miles betrayed that trust.

And now here he was, sitting alone at his desk, contemplating that terrible day just like he had done for the past four years. He hated it, but in his heart he knew he would never stop. He would continue to do this until the day he died. Bass let out a low chuckle and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Silently, he cursed his shaky hands. Thinking about his eventual death made him nervous now, though he could never admit it to anyone. He barely admitted it to himself.

Before things changed, Bass had always felt a sense of peace when thinking of his eventual death. It never truly bothered him, and he supposed it was because his priorities were different than most others. The majority of people would do nearly anything to stay living, but that wasn't enough for Bass. For him, it was more important to be remembered, to leave a legacy that none would forget. The Republic was that legacy, and he had always been certain that if he were to die, Miles would keep it alive.

But that wouldn't happen now, would it? With Miles gone, what would happen to the Monroe Republic if he were to die? He supposed that his second in command would take over the job, but he also knew that if that happened, it wouldn't be the Monroe Republic anymore. The name would change to fit it's new general, and no one would care about Sebastian Monroe anymore.

It frightened him to think about it, a world in which the Monroe Republic no longer existed. Everything he worked for would have amounted to nothing in the eyes of history. In a hundred years, none would know his name. All the lives lost, all the sacrifices made. All for nothing.

But Bass couldn't let that happen. He would not allow all of his efforts to be in vain, just because Miles Matheson had betrayed his trust. There had to be some way to ensure that his name continued, to keep the Monroe Republic, and Bass would be damned if he couldn't find it.

Charlie Matheson stood over her brother's grave in silence, just as she had been doing every morning for the past two weeks. By now she had spent so many hours staring at that cross, she had every detail engrained in her memory. The crack in the wood close to the top, the small hole on the left side, every detail. And yet she still stared, because she wanted to make sure she never forgot the symbol of what Monroe had taken from her. Had there not been a blackout, she was sure that people would have tried to comfort her. They would have told her that everything would be okay, and that things would get easier with time. They would have told her to move on.

But no one says that now. In fact, they say the opposite, that Monroe needs to pay for what he's done, and they have to fight him like Danny did. That's why Charlie's working with the rebels now. Not because she wants to make the world a better place, or because she knows it's the right thing to do. No, she's not nearly as noble as most of the people fighting with the rebels. She's doing it for revenge, pure cold-blooded vengeance. It may not be the most righteous motivation, but she couldn't change the way she felt. She was angry over Danny's death, and she wanted Monroe to die for it. Simple as that.

Charlie turned and began the walk back to the rebel base. Today was a big day, her first official strike against the Republic. Miles was leading a team in to a militia armory in Norristown, right outside Philadelphia. It wasn't the most important hit they could make, but it was a start, and a good way to test their timed explosives. Now that they had a small amount of power, the rebels were in good shape, but it would take time before they were fully equipped to take down the Republic. They needed tanks and missiles, but right now all they had were bazookas and radios.

Not that she was complaining. The advantages they had were sure to be very helpful, and today would just prove that. When she arrived back at the camp, she found everyone gearing up to go, except for Aaron and her mother of course. Her mother, who she thought was dead, who abandoned her for who knows what reason. The only thing keeping Charlie from demanding explanations was the fact that she was mourning Danny, too, and that was hard enough to deal with.

"Charlie, you ready to go?" Miles asked, handing her a rifle. She nodded and hopped on to the cart, taking a seat beside her uncle. The horses moved forward, and they spent most of the journey in silence. It wasn't until they were almost there that Miles turned to her and asked her what she was thinking about.

"Danny, mostly," she said, then added more softly, "I miss him."

"Yeah," he answered, and looked away. Just when Charlie was beginning to think the conversation was over, he spoke up again. "Listen, Charlie. I didn't really know your brother that well, but he was family, so… I miss him too. He was a good kid."

Charlie shook her head. "But that's just it. He was just a kid, and I was supposed to take care of him. I never should have let him fight against Monroe."

"And I probably shouldn't let you fight either, but we both know I wouldn't be able to stop you, just like you couldn't stop Danny. It wasn't your fault, Charlie. It was Monroe's."

He was right, of course. That was why Charlie was on this mission in the first place, because she blamed Monroe for Danny's death. But that couldn't stop her from feeling partly responsible. Nothing could.

The strike they were planning was fairly simple. Create a distraction at the south wall, a small team would sneak in the north to plant the bomb and get out of there, then everyone would pull out and they would blow the building from a safe distance. Of course both Charlie and Miles were a part of the team planting the bomb, along with Nora and a couple other rebel soldiers. As soon as they heard bullets being fired, the group snuck over to the wall and opened a window, sneaking in to an empty room. Miles glanced out the door and noticed two guards at the end of the hallway, but the noise at the front soon pulled them from their posts.

They started down the hall, and Charlie started counting the doors on their left. Three, four, five… "We're here." She turned the knob and stepped inside the stairwell, holding up her crossbow and swiftly taking out the sole guard. "Seriously? Only one?" she asked.

"I guess our friends are making quite the distraction," Miles noted. "Come on, we need to hurry it up. Nora?"

"I'm on it." She began setting up the bomb on the steps, and Charlie glanced around. They had chosen this stairwell as the target because it sat right in the middle of most of the militia's weapon storage, and it was critical to the building's infrastructure. With any luck, their little explosion would cause the entire compound to implode. Nora had just finished arranging the C-4 when the room exploded with bullets.

Miles pulled Charlie beneath the stairs, and Nora dived behind a storage crate. Their rebel friends weren't so quick-thinking, however, and they went down within a few seconds. "Where the hell did they come from, Miles?" Nora shouted. "You were supposed to be on look-out!"

"I'm sorry, I was distracted!"

"Distracted! Seriously?"

"Hey!" Charlie interrupted, "Now is not the time for this! Nora, did you set up the detonator on that bomb?"

"Yeah."

"Great, then let's get out of here!"

"I'm on it," Miles said, and pulled out his gun. He glanced out at the doorway before jumping out and shooting the guards down with one bullet each. "Come on!" He rushed out the door, followed by Nora. Charlie quickly stood up to follow him, but a sharp pain in her leg forced her back down. She reached down and felt a tear in her pants leg, and her fingers were bloody when she brought them back up.

Charlie bit her tongue and forced herself to stand up, despite the pain telling her to do otherwise. She had to run, she had to get out of there. Hurrying down the hallway, she tried to keep up with Miles and Nora, but the injury was causing her to limp. She just couldn't keep up. As they rounded a corner ahead of her, Charlie tried to cry out for their help, but strong arms grabbed her from behind and placed a cloth over her mouth and nose. She panicked, tried to force herself free, but it was no use. The world was fading in to darkness around her, and Charlie quickly found herself drifting to sleep.