A/N: This story takes place during the season one episode 'Nobody's Fault but Mine', and then goes AU afterwards. Basically, Charlie went back for Miles during his final battle with Bass, and that was a big mistake.
Disclaimer: I do not own Revolution or anything affiliated with it or it's cast. I make no profit from this.
"Just come back to me." Sebastian Monroe pleaded, sweat beading all along his forehead. His eyes were nearly feverish, and an underlaying tone in his voice betrayed his manic thoughts. This was certainly the face of a man who had lost his connection to the real world.
"See, I can't do that." Miles Matheson's response was some odd mixture of honest pain and sarcastic denial. He wanted to be with his friend, he wanted to be comfortable, he wanted to stop running and fighting and to just give in. A few weeks ago he would have done just that. But those weeks had been long for the man, and he had seen amazing things, things his niece had set into motion. He was a changed man, if ever a changed man there was.
"I can't just go back, I can't let you keep doing this." Miles grated out between his teeth, his eyes burning with the pain of his own betrayal. It had all started out so simple, so good. He couldn't even pinpoint the moment it had all gone so wrong in their lives.
"Then what good are you to me?" Sebastian roared, his eyes flashing even more of the broken man within. He leapt forward, his sword slicing the air just in front on Miles.
It was a near miss, and it sent Miles stumbling backwards. His foot caught on some bit of debris, and Miles went sprawling, the sword in his hand clattering away from him. He tried to scrabble up quickly, to make it to his weapon before it was too late, but a sharp pain at his throat stopped him short. The tip of Bass' sword has pressed into the base of Miles' neck, and if he tried to move even an inch further, he'd be dead.
"Why are you doing this, Miles? What happened to make you so foolish?" Monroe sneered, leaning over his weapon so he could peer into Miles' defenceless face.
"Nothing you would understand." Miles grunted, the movement of his words causing a tiny beed of blood to appear on his throat.
"Miles!" It was a terrified shout and it echoed across the stone walls surrounding them, causing a deep sinking feeling in Miles' gut.
"Charlie, no! Get out of here!" Every muscle in Miles' body was tensing, the line of blood at his throat growing larger. "Get out!"
The look on Sebastian Monroe's face was chilling. The manic need that had been pouring from him moments before was missing, replaced by a cold, hard facade. Miles wanted to call out again, to warn Charlie away from this empty monster, but the words stuck in his throat, and he knew it was useless. They were caught; foxes in a trap, not quite wily enough to outsmart cold iron.
"Charlie? I thought you might show up here, eventually." Monroe's voice was controlled, even, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanour. "Come here, or I slice into uncle Miles' throat."
Sebastian and Miles were locked in a staring contest, one that had gone unbroken by Sebastian even with Charlie's appearance. He straightened, no longer hovering menacingly over Miles, his spine an iron rod and every inch of him the ruler of the Monroe Republic. Miles had never felt more helpless as Charlie's footsteps echoed around them.
"There's a good girl." Monroe smiled harshly, wrapping an arm around Charlie's neck the second she was within reach. He pulled her close to him, none to gently. Miles winced angrily, and the blade sliced deeper into his flesh. Charlie gasped and tried to wriggle against the chokehold, but it was futile. She was to concerned with her uncle's wellbeing to truly struggle, and Monroe's hold was far to tight besides.
"See? This is all going to work out perfectly." Sebastian announced, his voice oddly distant, as if he was simply narrating his own story. "I have Charlie now, Miles. Precious little Charlie." He punctuated his unspoken threat by burying his nose in her hair. Miles scowled darkly, and Charlie just seemed confused.
"So it's going to go like this; I'm keeping Charlie. She's mine now. There's nothing you can do about that. Do you know why?" He moved one booted foot to deliver a small kick to Miles' stomach. The man on the ground grunted and tried not to curl into the pain, as the blade was still at his neck.
"No!" Charlie gasped futilely, earning a tightening of the arm around her neck.
"Because you gave up your right to have things anymore, Miles. You don't get to have anything." The boot found Miles' stomach once again. "So, she's mine. And you're mine. And Danny is mine. Do you see how this works?"
Tears had started to roll down Charlie's cheeks and Miles hated his once-friend. He hated him with all he had. His own insides were roiling around with the amount of hate he was restraining, and he wanted nothing more than to rip this man to shreds. And yet, he loved Bass so much, he might just let the hatred consume himself instead.
"Now, you're not going to do anything about it. I can't kill you Miles," Monroe's voice seemed to falter for a moment then his eyes hardened. "But I will keep you. You will stay with me, as my prisoner. You won't try anything, because I," He hauled Charlie closer to himself than Miles thought possible. "Have your family. And I will not let her out of my sight. So you will not have an opportunity to betray me-again."
It all felt like too much. Miles had always thought he was a strong man. He had very few attachments, his biggest being the man in front of him, until recently. Until Charlie had burst into his shitty little life with her big wet eyes and her big words about family. He'd crumbled like a sand castle in the face of a strong little lost girl. How foolish that had been. Now the two most important people that had ever been in his life were trying to kill each other, right in front of him. Unfortunately, one of them was nearly succeeding. With this in mind, Miles did the only thing he could think to do. The only thing he could see ending this battle with as little bloodshed as possible.
"You've got me, Bass." Miles was a defeated man.
"No!" Charlie cried again, her teeth grit together. She flailed her elbows, striking back at the man who held her, stomping her boots onto his own. Sebastian grunted, shifted his weight to the side, the blade in his hand becoming loose. Miles took the opportunity presented; he rolled to the side, hopped up. He was about to leap into the fray, about to take down Monroe, save Charlie, make for the hills. Instead, cold steel rained down on the back of his skull and he slumped to the floor, a graceless pile of limbs.
"Miles!" The young woman struggled all the harder, and Monroe finally gave in, pushing her to the cold ground next to her uncle. It didn't matter now, there was nothing she could do. The militia had found them, and the area was quickly filling with the uniformed guard. Neville stood over Miles' prone body, sneering down at the sobbing Charlie as he wiped a few specks of blood from the butt of his gun.
"Shall we take them to a cell? Or are we to execute them here and now, sir?" Neville inquired, his well practiced voice calm and neutral.
Sebastian Monroe seemed to be thinking for a moment, or maybe just gathering himself, preparing for what was to come. "Take them back to base. Make up a room. Keep it simple, but...comfortable. Miles will be imprisoned there. Give him whatever he asks for, but do not allow any sharp objects into the room, nothing that could be explosive or used to pick locks. The girl," His face changed in a barely perceptible way, the tiniest frown on his lips. "She'll go to my chambers. Clean her up, get her some proper clothes. I'll need to remove anything that could be weaponized, and then I expect her to be brought to me."
Neville's face remained impassive for the most part, but Monroe had learned how to read the man over the years. There was a hint of judgement in his eyes, that look of knowing that followed what Monroe was implying would be done with Miles' niece. "You have your orders. Move out."
Neville nodded solemnly, reaching forward to wrench Charlie from her uncle's side. The girl screamed and flailed, but it was useless against the force of the militia. They were caught. They had been stopped. They had failed. Now they had to suffer the consequences.