Poppies and Guilt,

Chapter one – A package for General Matheson

'Package for you General Matheson, sir.' The lower ranking officer saluted General Matheson as he acknowledged the younger man with a short nod.

Miles gave him that nod and a hand gesture to tell him to get the hell out. His stubble had touches of grey, as he had not bothered to shave. His long coat open, a deep blue shirt around him. his belt strapped around his waist, the long swords next to his leg where he could not distinguish his leg from the sword, both of them together, the sword now a part of him. It had become a way to slash people, to fight, to frown himself in battles. But it had also become the one thing to protect what he needed to. The people that were his to protect from the start, even though he had forgotten himself literally somewhere down the road of hell.

Miles sighed. The war was over, they were regrouping, taking care of their wounds, in every meaning. He had trained younger Rangers just after dawn on the large field close to their camp, he had to oversee a meeting and had been staring at papers and documents in front of him, both of his large hands on the table in front of him, in his private tent as he wondered how the hell Blanchard had got him so far to do this shit all over again. His hair dark, his eyes on the table in front of him, his boots unruly tied.

With a niece, he missed more than was he was willing to admit out loud, of for a trip north to get some stuff done for Blanchard, a brother and former partner in crime who had been a pain in the ass and driving him to hell and back with his remarks about his current girlfriend and his moody mind shifts and said girlfriend who was driving him slowly insane in different ways, he had his plate full. Was it too much to ask for everybody to leave him the hell alone in solitude and a bottle of whiskey?

He was totally ready to put his feet on this fancy table Blanchard provided for him, get some whiskey, enjoy some well earned peace and quiet before heading back to Rachel.

That was before that officer walked in and he had grabbed the package. Before he opened the parcel with an easy movement, a glass of whiskey still in hand.

The envelope was in his hand.

Something jangled and clinked in the dark brown envelope.

In his eyes he held a bracelet with red square fake stones.

They could only belong to one girl.

His girl.

He held them in one hand, as it was the letter attached to it, that made his blood turn cold.

Her eyes went quickly through the room. And then she looked at him. As the shapes of the room came into focus.

'If it is all the same to you, I will pack my shit now and go. I have somewhere else to be. ' Tilting her head, wishing her voice had more strength. She was not going to let this man know how she felt. Which was like hell. They had beaten her up, scrambled up her body as her head was still buzzing with the blows.

He laughed, a free laugh that turned her heart cold and her body in a tensed state of readiness when the laugh turned into something more sinister.

'You know, you sound just like a friend from the past of mine. The same blazing daring challenging condescending attitude.'

The house felt out of place. The ceiling was high, the walls white. Expensive rugs on the floor in a clean sterile room as a large arch lead to another room, the wooden floors shiny and at the same time cold. Just like the feel in this house, this room. Just as his eyes.

Girls were hanging against the banister way above her. Wearing dresses that left little to the imagination. They were looking at her, like she was the newest spectacle, and this, was a lazy drawing out of steps to come they knew so well.

The man before her, tall, dark. His dark hair was accompanied by dangerous eyes. She had spent the past hours travelling, as three men had ambushed her. She had fought, struggled but a cloth with something in it over her nose had made it impossible to fight anymore. She was a long way from home. Or the people that made that basis for her. She had gone on a trip with Rangers, north because she couldn't think anymore of what lay behind. Of what she had done. One moment, one small town. A day behind her like the rest. Hours on the road, doing what she could to raise the people back on their feet after fighting and despair. One moment, one small town, and hands that were not supposed to grab her. One moment, one small town, hands that grabbed her and the lack of his presence as a painful reminder how much he was not there this time. How two swords did not save her this time.

'So, you are saying you are turning down my hospitality?' His voice had a contained kind of shiver in it, that she knew this man could break her in a second, like a shift in the air when a storm approached.

There it was, the shift. She could feel it coming as he approached her.

She stood there, as she felt the bruises under her tank. Missing the belt they stripped from her, missing her knife, her crossbow, her weapon. Feeling completely too exposed even with her clothes on, her jacket still around her shoulder, her hair clinging to her forehead. Her mind racing if they knew her. And how they found her. Looking for exits, looking for a plan out, just like Monroe had taught her. Think first, act, fire, blaze. Never give up. And if it is them or you, it is them. He could hear him say it as he was pissed at her once, as she had walked straight into danger. Fuck Charlie, don't you ever think? Eyes filled with rage, but also with something else that shook her to her core.

Dangerous eyes stepped closer. No crazy eyes, crazy eyes she realised as she kept her face firm and he come standing half next to her.

'I have to tell you a little secret.' His whole posture turning into a giddy explosion of a cat stalking its prey. His voice slow, his sickening breathing like he was touching her without touching her close to her ear. 'Your uncle and I, we have some unfinished business.'

He touched her hair, a finger going over the lines of her neck.

'And I think you, could be exactly what I need for some..' he was almost panting in her neck, ' settling of that debt.'

Charlie swallowed something away in disgust as she felt him touching her. She had her pride, her strength to not move an inch, because she knew that was exactly what he wanted, he craved.

The girls from upstairs walked down the stairs slowly.

'These are Amber and Theresa.' The crazy guy nodded. 'They will talk care of you, love.'

The two girls walked her way as Charlie watched him with anger, rage and disgust. Her eyes still scanning the door to get out here.

He was almost on the steps that let up to a higher part of the room before he turned around.

He chuckled. 'Well now, I forgot something, but what,' he looked at her as a mock frown appeared in his forehead, he stood before her again.

'Oh yes, I remember,' in one strike he moved, one flash, as he put his right fist in her face, knocking her of her feet. She could feel Miles, somewhere far away. Miles, Bass. No one was here, no one knew she was even here and as she went down, somehow they were on her mind. Bass. Miles. Miles.

She felt the warm sting on her cheek before hands grabbed her of the floor.

The guy left. Walked to his men on the other side of the room as he had something in his hand. Something he threw to the smaller guy on his right, who was standing close to a table. A bracelet. The stones in it catching a ray of sun. She could only hear his voice faintly.

'Send this to General Matheson. Tell him Drexel sends him his best.'

Hey everyone, as I told you with another story, I am rewatching season one. And it gives me so much new inspiration. This story meets season 1, and season two. Thank you for reading! Love from Love