Miles was sick. He'd denied it for as long as he could but when he collapsed during their trek through the forest, there was no more hiding. He was sick as a dog and they had no doctor to tell them how to treat him.

Actually, sick as a dog was putting it mildly. It was more like hovering on death's doorstep. Miles had a fever that had been steadily climbing since his collapse. His body was wracked with pain and the few bites of food they tried to feed him were violently hacked back up.

They couldn't move forward with the ex-solider in such condition so they made him as comfortable as they could and tried to wait it out. Nora and Charlie kept perpetual watch over him in shifts. One or both of them could always be found at his side, pressing wet clothes to his forehead and trying to get him to eat anything at all. Nate and Aaron took over most of the other duties. They foraged for food and kept watch for any other militia members that might also be on their trail.

The fever seemed to cause delusions for Miles as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He mumbled strange phrases and reached for people only he could see. Nate was the closest thing they had to a medic so he took over Miles's care as the man grew worse. No one liked the idea much but Nate pointed out that Munroe wanted Miles alive. Nate couldn't hurt him.

"Ben," Miles panted. "Benjamin, I'm here!"

"Calling for his dead brother isn't a good sign is it?" Aaron sighed as he handed Nora another wet cloth to wipe over Miles's face.

"Does it sound good?" Nate snapped. "His temperature is spiking. If we can't get it down soon, he may not last long."

Miles reached out for someone, staring into the distance with distress in his eyes. "No! Ben, don't! Ben, please!" He was seized with pain and they turned him on his side so he could dry heave.

"What can we do?" Nora asked wearily as they set him on his back.

"I know of a few plants that might help," Nate said.

Nora handed the cloth to Charlie and got to her feet. "I'm coming with you."

Charlie watched them leave. "Do you think they can find what we need?" Aaron asked.

"I just wish I knew what was going on in his head," Charlie sighed, looking down at her uncle.

In his head Miles was currently standing in front of a bar he'd never seen before. Which was odd because this was Chicago and he knew every bar in Chicago. "This should be interesting," he muttered to himself.

He headed inside to see people that looked vaguely familiar sitting all around. He ended up bumping into someone behind him. "Look where you're going," a familiar voice snapped.

Miles turned to see his niece dressed in a waitress's uniform. "Charlie?" he frowned. "Charlie is that you?"

"It's Charlotte," she replied, pointed to her name tag. "If I don't know you, and I don't, it's Charlotte."

"Sorry about that," Miles muttered. "Didn't mean to offend."

"No problem," Charlie smiled. "But watch where you're going next time." She turned back to the bar. "Daniel! I need table three's order!"

"It's coming!" Though he hadn't seen the boy in years, Miles knew instinctively that the boy who appeared from the kitchen was Danny. Miles liked the look of him. In a world with inhalers and other rescue equipment his nephew would have made a good football player.

Charlotte rolled her eyes before turning back to Miles. "Look, sir, why don't you have a seat at the bar?"

"That's probably a good idea, kid," Miles agreed.

Unsteady legs took him to the bar where he settled onto the stools. Miles shucked his coat and set it on the stool next to him. He couldn't quite take his eyes off Charlie the entire time. "Careful, stranger, she's a pistol. I'd look for someone more your age if I were you."

Miles turned to the British voice. "Maggie?"

"I'd prefer Margaret," the curly headed blonde smiled. "Can I get you a drink, soldier?"

"Sure, why not?" Miles sighed. "Maybe things will actually make sense if I'm drunk."

"What would you like?"

Miles shrugged. "Got any good single malt?"

"The best in Chicago," Maggie proclaimed proudly. "Single shot?"

"Make it a double," Miles declared. Maggie poured the drink and set it before him. He took a long sip and smiled. "Damn fine whiskey," he agreed.

"Told you we have the best in Chicago," Maggie smiled. She moved to the other side of the bar and tossed some coins down. "Charlie, put some music on for our guest," she ordered.

"Round of Bon Jovi comin' up," Charlie grinned.

Miles watched as she threw the coins in a jukebox in the corner and "It's My Life" poured from the speakers. "Oh, that brings me back," he murmured.

"Favorite song?" Maggie asked as she wiped down the bar.

"Favorite band," Miles corrected. He finished the whiskey and pushed his glass forward. "Mind pouring another?"

Maggie filled it with a smile. "Want me to leave the bottle?" she asked.

"That would probably make things easier," Miles agreed.

"So, you're into Bon Jovi," Maggie said.

"Who isn't?" Miles countered. "Man's a genius. My brother and I were raised on their music." He glanced at his drink. "It was our favorite band," he added softly.

"Sounds like you were close to him."

"I was," Miles nodded, straightening. "And I'm sure he's in this bar somewhere because this is a dream."

Maggie opened her mouth but a soft touch on her shoulder stopped her. "I've got this, Maggie. Go help, Charlie."

Miles looked up at the soft tone and found himself looking into the calm blue eyes of his dead brother. "Benjamin," he greeted quietly.

"Avery," Ben smiled.

Miles scowled. "Don't call me that, no one calls me that." He finished off the rest of his whiskey and poured more. "Who the hell names a kid Avery anyway?"

"Our mother," Ben chuckled. He paused before looking his brother over. "What makes you say this is a dream? Which it isn't by the way."

"You really want the list?" Miles asked.

"Sure. We've got time after all."

"The biggest clue was Charlie starting up the jukebox. Even if the power hadn't been out for fifteen years, a girl her age wouldn't know how to work a jukebox. Hell, we were 80's babies and we barely knew how to work one. Not something your daughter could work out."

"What else?" Ben probed.

"That girl at the table over there." Miles pointed without looking. "Her name is Annabelle. She was my first serious girlfriend and she died in a car accident when we were sixteen. At the table on the other side is our father. He drank himself to death right after I joined the Marines. And, of course, you've got Maggie at the bar." Miles knocked back his whiskey. "Not to mention I have my favorite leather jacket which I lost just after the black out." He grumbled as he refilled his glass. "I really liked that jacket too."

"I do recall you having a strange attraction to that coat," Ben agreed.

"It was a damn good coat," Miles insisted. "Anyway, there's too many dead people here for this to be real. So it's either a dream or I'm dead." His hands froze and he looked up at Ben. His eyes were surprisingly vulnerable for a hardened soldier. "Am I dead, Benny?" he asked softly.

"Not yet," Ben replied. "But you are having a hallucination. The fever is getting too high for your body to handle. It could cook your brain unless your group figures out how to bring it down."

"In that case, I think I need a bigger glass."

Ben laughed.

In the real world, Charlie was watching her uncle twist in what appeared to be pain. "You can't leave me," she whispered. "You promised."

She looked up at the sound of cracking twigs. Nora and Nate were coming back with a small sack full of plants. "Any change?" Nora asked.

Charlie shook her head. "He called out for my dad again," she admitted quietly.

Nora pursed her lips. "Let's get these ground down," Nate said, getting comfortable. "Then we can see if he'll take them."

Back in the bar, the song had changed to "Wanted Dead or Alive". Miles grinned at his brother. "Now, this song brings back memories. We used to howl this at the top of lungs. Drove mom and dad nuts." His eyes lit up at a memory. "Remember that Bon Jovi concert we went to right before I enlisted?"

"How could I forget?" Ben chuckled as he poured them both more whiskey. "For one thing it was the year my daughter was born. For another, I stuck out like a sore thumb."

Miles let out a little laugh. His brother had stuck out horribly at the concert. But Ben had only agreed to go because Miles had insisted they do one last thing together before he shipped out to basic training. "Yeah, I remember that. That asshole…the one with the Mohawk, he gave you such shit."

"Yes, he did," Ben nodded. "And you gave him a bloody nose for his troubles."

"He was an asshole," Miles repeated. "And you're my brother. Besides, I had to repay you for Billy Johnston."

Ben let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Billy Johnston was back when I was in seventh grade," he reminded Miles.

"Yeah and you knocked his front teeth out because he made fun of my first name."

"That's when you started going by Miles," Ben recalled.

"Miles sounds cooler anyway," he declared, finishing his glass off. "We were the terrors of the school that next year, remember? No one wanted to tangle with the Matheson brothers."

"Dad nearly tanned our hides when we kept coming home with cuts and bruises," Ben grinned. "But he was always so proud when we told him that we had won the fight. Mom would just wring her hands and say we needed to be friendlier."

"And we told her we were plenty friendly," Miles added. "But people didn't seem to want to be friendly back." He shook his glass for a refill and Ban obliged. "So. I am clearly not here to reminisce about our glorious past as the kings of St. Joseph's Catholic School." His expression grew serious. "What's going on here, Benny? Why are you here?"

"Maybe your fever riddled brain wanted to cook up someone to make you comfortable while you die," he suggested with that same calm expression. "Picked the person you wanted to see most."

"Let's see if we can't find a more appealing option."

"Okay," Ben agreed. "Maybe you're conscious is trying to tell you not to be such an asshole to your only niece who has lost most of her family."

Miles winced slightly. "When did she get so mouthy?" he asked instead of answering. "Must have come from Rachel. You weren't ever that bad."

"You were," Ben countered. "Maybe those genes skipped a generation in me."

"Nah, definitely from Rachel," Miles declared loyally, drinking his whiskey. He gave his brother a long, searching look. "Why did you send her to me, Ben? You knew Nora. Hell, you probably knew plenty of people from your government work that you could have sent Charlie to so she could find her brother. Why send her to a washed up drunk like me?"

"Because I needed someone to take care of her," Ben smiled. "And because she's good for you."

"Good for me?" Miles repeated incredulously. "Half the time I wanna knock her upside the head just to shut her up. How is she good for me?"

Ben flat out grinned. "She is the best thing for you and you can't even see it," he said. Miles cocked an eyebrow. "This is the most fired up you've been about anything in years, little brother. You checked out of the world when it needed you most."

"Because I was sick of the fighting," Miles insisted. "I close my eyes; all I see is dead bodies, Benny. That's no way to live."

"Neither is wallowing in the bottom of a whiskey bottle," Ben shot back. "You needed a cause to get you off your ass and Charlie brought that cause straight to your doorstep." He smirked. "You're just pissed because a girl was able to get the jump on you."

"You're an ass," Miles muttered into his glass.

Charlie looked at her feverish uncle. "Do you really think these will help?" she asked, glancing down at the bowl of mashed up ingredients in her hands.

"It's the best chance he has," Nate explained.

Miles twitched suddenly. "Charlie," he muttered. "Charlie, Danny."

"I'm here, Miles," she whispered. "I'm right here."

Miles twitched again and fell silent. "Let's give it to him now," Nora said. "Hopefully he'll be able to keep it down."

Aaron moved behind Miles to support him as Nora worked his mouth open. Charlie poured the disgusting cure down his throat and watched him swallow. They laid him back down gently. "Please, make it through, Uncle Miles," Charlie said as she took his hand in hers.

Miles frowned and turned to spit beside his seat. "Something wrong?" Ben asked.

"Sudden bad taste in my mouth," Miles explained.

"That would be the plant mixture your friends just force fed you to help with the fever," Ben told him. "It'll pass."

"Okay," Miles shrugged. "Now where were we?"

"We were discussing my children," Ben provided.

"That's right. You were telling me why you sent your annoyingly mouthy daughter to me and I was telling you exactly what I thought about your plan."

"You always concise," Ben admitted.

"I stand by my earlier statement."

"Look, Miles, what do you plan to do if and when you wake up from this fever?"

Miles looked surprised by the question. "Get Danny back of course."

"And then what?"

Miles was now uncomfortable. "Didn't think that far ahead," he admitted.

"Planning was never your forte," Ben agreed. "But you can't just drop them off at the nearest village and run back to your bar in Chicago."

"Yeah, I know," Miles said as he took a drink of whiskey. "Your little girl made sure that place was forever unsafe for me."

"I'm serious, Miles." The younger of the brothers straightened up. "They're still kids, Miles. Charlie and Danny need someone to look out for them. That used to be my job. Now it's yours. They are yours now. Yours to care for, yours to protect." Ben laid a hand on his brother's arm. "Will you protect them for me?"

Miles laid his hand over his brother's. "I would do anything for you, big brother." He looked Ben in the eye. "But I was never the responsible type like you were. There was a reason that you settled down with a family and I joined the Marines. You leave your kids with me and they'll turn out more messed up than I am."

"I think you'd make an okay dad, for the record," Ben said. "But that's not the point. The point is that the three of you are good for each other. Now I need your word that you will protect my kids. Can you give me that Miles?"

Miles glanced away for a moment. "Yeah, yeah I can do that for you, Benny."

Ben grasped the back of Miles's neck with a smile. "That's my little brother. Always stepping up when I need him." He pulled away and straightened. "You just drank the last of the whiskey, so I think it's time for you to be going."

"Probably right," Miles agreed, sliding off the stool and putting his coat back on.

"And Miles," Ben called, "You should really tell Charlie about…everything. Including Rachel."

Miles couldn't meet his brother's gaze. "Yeah…about Rachel." He glanced at his brother's understanding gaze. "I always meant to beg your forgiveness for that."

Ben spread his arms wide. "What's to forgive?"

Miles sighed. "Why the hell do you have to be so damn understanding all the time?" he whined. "Do you have any idea how much easier it would be to hate myself if you hated me too?"

Ben came out from behind the bar and stood toe to toe with his little brother. "I was never good at hating people," he shrugged. "Even when they did deserve it. But you didn't. So…no hate here. No judgement either. You did what you thought was right. And you're sorry for how it turned out. That makes us square in my book."

"You, sir, are a better man than I will ever be," Miles declared. Impulsively he pulled Ben into a hug. "I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye Benjamin."

Ben smiled as he hugged his brother tight. "Its okay, Avery. I knew what you wanted to say."

Miles pulled away, refusing to acknowledge the tears in his eyes. "Guess it's time to say goodbye for good, Benny. I'll look after those kids for you."

"I know you will," Ben said.

Miles straightened his jacket and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle to turn and salute his brother. Then he walked back into blinding sunlight.

Miles groaned as consciousness came back. "Easy there," a familiar voice said. "Don't try to move too much."

Miles blinked twice and saw Nora leaning over him. "Charlie," he demanded in a voice harsh from lack of water. "Where's Charlie?"

Someone squeezed his other hand. Miles rolled his head to see Charlie on his other side with tears in her eyes. "I'm here, Uncle Miles. I'm right here?"

"Danny?" he questioned, not properly oriented.

"Danny's with the militia," Charlie reminded him. "But we're going to get him back as soon as you're well again."

"Yes we are," Miles agreed, squeezing her hand back weakly. He looked between the two women. "Please don't tell me Chuckles is on sentry duty."

"I have a real name you know," an offended voice called from outside of Miles's eye line. Miles attempted to sit up but it hurt too much. Instead he collapse back and looked to the women on either side of him for answers.

"Nate has that post right now," Nora explained softly. Miles looked aghast at that statement. "Would you like me to be lookout?" she offered.

"Better you than militia boy," Miles declared. He let out a hacking cough but quieted soon after.

"I'll go spell Nate," Nora sighed.

"Good," Miles nodded. "If it's alright with everyone else, I'm just going to go back to sleep again." He closed his eyes and started to drift off.

"I'll start making dinner for you," Charlie said softly.

Miles tightened his still weak grip on her hand. "Uh uh," he muttered, already half asleep. "Stay here. I gotta protect you. Promised your dad." Charlie wanted to question him but Miles let out a soft snore and she knew he was back under. She gently tugged at her hand. His grip was iron. That was fine by her.

"I'm glad you came back," she told him.

A/N: Since we don't know exactly how old anyone is in the show, I'm guessing Ben is about 40 when he dies and Miles is about 37. Also, am I the only one who thinks Miles would be a total Bon Jovi fan? He really seems the rocker type. Or maybe I've just spent too many hours listening to my Bon Jovi CD and picturing the Miles fight scenes. Seriously, someone needs to make a video of Mile being a badass to "It's My Life". If you post it on youtube and send me a link I will write a one shot based on the prompt of your choice.