It's over. The Patriots have been slaughtered, the East coast of the former US of A is one chaotic mess, and everyone important to Charlie has made it out alive.
The exception of course, is Jason, who died in her arms and at her hands, with his life and love at her fingertips. The boy is too far out of her reach now, and neither of his parents made it through the most recent war.
Also, there is the unknown factor; Connor. They haven't seen him since he tried to murder his father, and while Charlie is content to hate him like she once hated his father, the original Monroe is not. Which is how she inevitably ended up in a screaming match with aforementioned idiot, who is determined to run straight towards his homicidal and power hungry son. To be honest, both are traits Connor inherited, the idiocy as well.
"What am I gonna do, Charlie? I don't get my Republic, Miles will kill me. I don't get my son, he will kill me. I don't get Miles, the bitch you call your mother has him trapped in her box of crazy."
Charlie really should defend her mother now, but she can't bring herself to. She just exited a particularly heated argument with the woman herself, concerning her quick rise amongst the ranks of the Texas Rangers and her increasing murder count. Instead, she goes for the low blow.
"Your box of crazy…," she is ready to finish her sentence and see if he will slump his shoulders, or attack her in the middle of the camp, where they will have to dodge the gathering onlookers while he kicks her ass.
There is no shame in admitting that she cannot beat Sebastian Monroe at hand-to-hand combat. Miles can't. Though there is that memorable time five weeks ago where she broke the former president's rib with a nice left hook.
Anyway, she won't find out, because Miles comes running to save the day, or rather, save them from each other. His hand is on Bass' arm before the temperamental man finishes her sentence in his head and gets the chance to attack.
Both Mathesons know that calming the general down with a gentle touch only works when you use the manoeuvre sparingly, which is why Charlie had been spending the past few minutes baiting the guy instead. She's been calming him down like it's her full-time job. She knows every trick in the book that Miles could write about his best friend, and a few more that she had to invent now that Monroe sometimes gets that completely insane look in his eyes.
Bass takes one look at her, jams his thumb into the pressure point on Miles' hand, and storms into his tent five feet away. He completely misses Miles wincing and practically bending over from pain. The hand had been broken and his thumb re-broken while escaping another set of chains just three days ago. That, and pressure points hurt like hell all on their own.
Charlie puts on her most commanding voice and sends the gathered crowd back to their stations. You would think they'd gotten used to her and Bass arguing at the top of their lungs. Miles said something about soaps that she didn't get. She's pretty sure he mentioned mindless entertainment.
By the time the soldiers have scattered, Miles has recovered, intermittingly shaking his hand as if twitching will help the pain subside. He has Rachel, who apparently came with him to separate them, keep Bass from running by stationing her in front of his tent. Next, he drags his niece to the tent next to it; his own.
"You know he's going, right?" Miles starts. She nods. Suppressing the need to tell him that he is the reason Bass can't stand staying with them at the camp because her uncle is too busy screwing her mom is getting easier the longer they do so. "I need a favor."
That's bad. Miles runs a hand through his hair. That's worse. His fingers drum on the table that serves as a desk, stacked with maps and battle plans. Now she's feeling elated and apprehensive. It's story time.
"I tried to kill Bass the night I deserted, sort of." She knows that. Everyone knows that. The 'sort of' part is new, though not entirely unsuspected. Her uncle opens his mouth to continue, then closes it.
"I'm going about this all wrong." There's a reason Miles never says much. Besides giving orders, he's not all that good with words. Not all that eloquent with emotions either. That's Bass.
"Just after the blackout, Bass and I stumbled on two guys beating up Jeremy Baker. I shot them both." He gives her a quick out-line of the creation of the Republic, but Monroe has already told her all of this. He always gets that look in his eye too, like he wants to go back to a time where everything was done together. Still, she lets him speak. Miles' voice is soothing, and hearing the story from his perspective is almost frighteningly different. In Bass' version, Miles is a hero and not all that far removed from a saint, the man himself makes it sound like the young Miles was a destructive force that cut humanity down like weeds.
"Bass always tried to stop me, hold me back. One day, he didn't, and I was so far gone that my newest nickname became The Butcher of Baltimore. I slaughtered one hundred and forty-two soldiers that day, Charlie."
The number is staggering, but she doesn't flinch. Charlie will never be scared of Miles. Bass told her how much good they did, and though the bad out-weighs it by far, they saved lives, thousands of them had been happy and healthy in Philly, under the leadership of the Monroe Republic. Nowadays, she knows that peace has a higher price that war does. She still can't pin-point why she is fighting. But she is no hypocrit, her own kill count exceeds hundred easily.
"One day, Bass killed a whole family of rebels, children included. We watched the coffins out, and he had a smile on his face. I turned him into that, not the other way around."
His voice breaks a little, and her eyes water. She knows the smile Miles talks about. It fleets across Monroe's face when the executions start, when the bodies on the battlefield are lit and turn into an inferno of burning flesh.
"I knew that I had to put as much distance between us as possible. So I went to his room to say goodbye. I had one rule; don't let him come with me. I stood there for what seemed like hours, watching him sleep. I was so far gone that I considered shooting my best friend in the head and completely take over Philly." Self-loathing bleeds through in his tone.
"But you didn't." It feels like she's reminding them both of this fact daily. Especially now that the war has worsened Bass' paranoia even further. Most of the time, she feels like she's clinging to his leg like a child, just to get him to stop because she has no idea how to keep Monroe from doing something completely stupid.
"But I didn't," he repeated, "Because we are brothers. So I ran all the way to Chicago, where you found me."
"Drinking yourself to death," Charlie supplied. He ignores her, like he always does when it concerns his drinking habits. "You have no idea how much you changed me, kid. How much you changed your mom, and how much you're helping Bass. So I need you to go with him."
Charlie practically slumps with relieve. She's been planning her getaway for a few weeks already. Now that she feels like Miles and Rachel can actually be left alone for a while, she is desperate to get out of here. Having the consent of her uncle makes it a lot easier.
"Alright," she says.
"Alright?" Miles asks, as if he's been expecting resistance. That's probably why he bothered telling the story. His eyes narrow. "You were gonna go anyway."
"Hadn't counted on having Monroe along, but he'll do." She says it like she can tolerate the man if necessary. Truthfully, she's kind of glad she won't be traveling thousands of miles on her own. "But I won't try to fix him Miles. That's not my job."
It's Miles who laughs at that. Sometimes, Charlie is still the naïve little girl that asked him to save Danny.
"You don't have to try, kid. Being around you for any span of time is more than enough." Charlie made him want to be a better person, and Bass is the target of her disappointment these days. Frankly, you don't start a sentence with : 'Bass isn't', 'cause he will prove you wrong just for the hell of it.
"Really, 'cause I've been travelling and fighting with Monroe for months by now, and he's still insane half of the time."
Miles' good mood vanishes. "That's because I've been around most of the same time." The downside turning Miles into a good guy is definitely the self-deprivation. Sadly, he's probably right. "He was different by the time the two of you found me. He hadn't killed you; he'd saved your life instead."
"Because I'm your niece," she helpfully reminds him. Bass does everything for Miles, no one else. She isn't foolish enough to believe she's anywhere in Monroe's top ten of friends. If she is, it's because he only has ten friends, and gets the spot as default.
Rachel interrupts the conversation by entering Miles' tent. "He's packing."
Charlie hops up from the cot she had started using as a chair halfway through her little talk with her uncle, and exits the tent, entering her own opposite to the former republic leaders. The young woman reaches for the two backpacks that are fully stocked for travelling and gets back outside just in time to run into her new companion.
He only has a small satchel with him, so she throws her second pack at the man, who catches it effortlessly. "Come on, Monroe. Road trip." She throws him a smile for good measure, but she's still frustrated with him, so it is a tiny bit more evil than she'd wanted it to be.
Bass looks at her, than to her mom and uncle ten feet away. He zeroes in on his best friend. "I don't need a babysitter."
"Yeah, well. She does." Her traitor uncle replies with a nod in her direction. It's a lie, which they all know.
"Let's go, Bass, we have a long way to go." Not that she has a destination in mind. She hugs Miles, one of the rarities she takes full advantage of now that she's allowed to, and grudgingly repeats the gesture with her mom.
She grabs Monroe by the wrists, pushes him in front of her, and starts marching.