Charlie Matheson stood before the mirror, assessing her latest battle scars. Patches of blood covered her face. This was the patriot's fault. She sighed, picking up a nearby rag and dipping it into the bucket of water she brought into the guest house from the pump outside. She could wash away the injuries easy enough- but hiding scars and hiding memories was much harder. Earlier she had come too close today- had Bass not be there she'd be another faceless girl, dead on the side of the road. She shivered as the cool water on the rag touched her bloodied skin- whether from the rag or the fact that she nearly died, she didn't know.

Sebastian Monroe sat in silence, the memories of the earlier encounter with the patriots fresh inside his mind. He remembered how close he came to breaking his promise to Rachel- that he would protect Charlie. He was reliving the moment the knife was pressed to her throat over and over. The time it took him to run across the road to where she was. He remembered the fear when he thought he was too late, as blood ran down her neck. He remembered the relief, when he saved her- and realized it was just a flesh wound. At least one promise was kept. Where was Charlie, anyways?

When she was finished, the bucket was tinted a faint red color. It always was. No matter how many times she came out on top, she always felt as if she was fighting a losing war. She laughed quietly to herself- ever since the bombs hit, everybody has been fighting a losing war. Between widespread sickness in the refugee camps, and patriot occupation in almost every living city- there was nowhere to hide from the present. She wished she could hide from the present. A silent tear ran down her cheek- she wanted to save everybody, and yet there were only a few people willing to do the same for her. She slid down against the wall on the far side of the room, burying her head in her knees. Shake it off, Charlotte. You can't be weak- it will get you killed.

Monroe got up, still shaky from the earlier adrenaline high. He'd fought countless battles, but he always felt shaken. He shook the feeling off- you are Sebastian Monroe. You cannot be weak. Chalking it up to nerves, he went to look for Charlie. "Charlie? Charlie, where are you?" After a few minutes of him half heartedly calling, he realized that she was probably outside. They were holed up on a farm east of Austin, Miles and Rachel were out looking for supplies. Charlie was probably off in her own world, inside the ransacked guest house on the other side of the farm. Should I drown myself in whiskey, or go see if Charlie is holding up OK? She was pretty freaked out after they encountered the patriots. He tossed thoughts around in his mind for a second, finally deciding that a diversion was just what he needed. Besides, he figured she might need some help coping.

Charlie didn't know how long she'd been sitting alone in the dark. It didn't matter though- everyone knew to give her space. Miles and her mom were probably off canoodling or something, and who only knows where Bass was. Things were easier here anyways, she needed time to think. Even though she was tough as a damn nail, even tough girls feel some sort of remorse. It really hit her today, though. She flashed back to earlier, when she and Bass were walking back from a supply run. A patriot patrol approached them from behind- she remembered the click of a bullet falling into a chamber, and how quickly Bass jumped into action. He took down two of them, while she sprang into action, taking one down and entering into a knife fight with the other. She was slicing and dicing one second, and at the next moment someone was trying to slice her throat. Bass was ten feet away, across the road. He froze for a second, and quickly ran towards her. All the while, the knife was digging lightly into her skin. She felt something warm drip down her neck as she stood there frozen, every awful thing she had ever done playing through her mind like a movie. She remembered Bass saving her life- again- and the numbness she felt the rest of the way home. She handed her supply bag off to Bass once they arrived at the entrance to the farm, grabbed a bucket of water, and ran to the guest house where she was staying.

Monroe slipped on his boots and leather jacket, and walked across the lawn to the guest house. He held his hand against the door, about to knock, but he heard a faint sniffle from inside. He pushed the door open slowly, bracing himself for whatever he might find. As he stepped across the threshold, the first thing he noticed was a girl sitting slumped against a wall, staring blankly into a mirror- Charlie.

"Charlie, are you alright?"

She looked up at him, her eyes slightly glossed over after all the thinking she'd been doing. "Yeah, Bass...I'm fine. Always am."

He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Fine is sitting slumped against a wall, not moving? All those guys I stabbed earlier must have been fine as well." At the mention of earlier, he saw the slightest tension in her shoulders.

"Charlie, something on your mind?" She turned her attention back to the mirror, her eyes devoid of emotion. He mad his way across the room and sat down on the floor next to her. He wasn't the best at comforting people- hell, that was Rachel's forte. Since she was off with Miles, he would have to do.

"The high eventually wears off Charlie, I know. You feel so powerful when you hold a weapon, and afterwards it's so quiet that you just feel...dark." She continued to stare at the wall, deep in though.

"Back when I, when I was, uh, General Monroe, In the early days, I felt this way too." She looked over at him.

"Do you, Bass? Do you really know how this feels? Back before the Blackout...before the bombs, even, things were bad- but at least it was everyday bad. Now there's patriots and bandits and bar rapists and a million other opportunities for bad memories. I feel like nothing is normal anymore." There was barely any tone to her voice, it was flat.

"Well, the fact that things are consistently shitty should bring you some comfort. At least you know what to expect."

"Well, it doesn't. Nothing does." He didn't know how to respond to that, so he pulled Charlie into an awkward side hug. She tensed, as if remembering when he was still general, but relaxed and leaned into his shoulder. He traced circles on her shoulder as they sat in silence.

Monroe broke the silence. "Charlie, it's getting dark out." She didn't respond. "Charlie, wake up." He shifted his arm in an attempt to wake her.

"Leave it." She wasn't asleep.

"Bass, just...stay." He moved his arm again, back into its previous position. He had been in her position before. Sometimes, words just can't express how a person is really feeling.

"Bass" she paused before continuing "Why am I so damn bothered?"

"Charlie, minds are weird. Sometimes they just break."

"It's just...I still remember the knife. Had you not..been there, you know?" He didn't want to think about that, or about the bastard who tried to kill Charlie.

"Charlie, stop."

"It's just, I hate being weak. I hate relying on people. They're weird too. And when they leave...then what?"

"It's not a weakness when someone is there for you." He would be there for her, like Miles. Only, not because she was family- because he felt obligated. That, and because it felt nice to do something good for a change.

"It feels like it."

She was stubborn. There was no convincing her.

He didn't know why she felt the need to be everyone's rock. He remembered her many instances of courage, though. Like when she almost took a bullet for her brother. Back when I first saw her. Monroe remembered the determination he saw in her eyes, then. Now all I see is cold, dark, emptiness.

"Charlie, you're not weak. Hell, I still remember you as the girl about to take a bullet for your brother."

"That was a long time ago. Danny's dead now." He felt guilty- and responsible. He knew comforting her once wouldn't be enough to make up for the fact that he killed half her family, no one could make up for that, but he had to try.

"Yeah? Dammit Charlie, you're not weak."

"Miles is always saving my ass. Even back in that bar a few months ago- you had to save my ass." He felt a dull fury at the memory of that night. It was before they were close-ish, but he was pissed nonetheless.

"Had you not been drugged, you could have taken them out easily."

"I'd like to think so."

"Yeah? I know so. The only reason that soldier from earlier caught you off guard was because you were distracted. What's on your mind- really?"

"What's on my mind?" She pushed his arm off and stood, growing more and more upset.

"What's on my mind is the damn state of everything. How fragile everything is. The fact that I could lose any one of you at any moment. Just like my dad, just like Danny. Hell, I almost lost Miles to sepsis! All because of a hand injury!"

"Your grandfather fixed him up."

"And what if he hadn't, uh? What if the patriots had killed him, before he could?"

"Then you'd still have your mom." And me. I may not be much, and I could never replace Miles, but I can listen.

"Joy of joys."

"She cares, Charlie."

"In a parallel universe. One where there's power and medicine and everything is okay." He got up and approached her.

"Charlie, things are okay. I mean, we're all alive."

"Unless those patriot bastards got Miles and mom! They could be dead for all we know!"

"I doubt it. Miles is tough."

"I doubt it, Miles is tough." Yeah Charlie thought he is.

"If he weren't, we'd all be screwed." Bass wrinkled his face up a bit, taking the smallest bit of offense to her comment. She wasn't thinking, but the old part of him, the General Monroe part, just had to say something.

"I lead a damn republic! I'm just as strong as Miles, if not more!" Charlie laughed at his defensiveness, before the familiar coldness made its way back. Her guard was up again- this was the Monroe she remembered.

"Slaughtering innocent people isn't strength or leadership." Monroe deflated a bit, before giving her a withering look.

"Charlie- that's just...it's not who I am anymore." His voice as he said this sounded broken, cold.

"Then who are you, Bass?" Her tone was defiant, as if she were asking this question to both Bass- and herself.

"Whatever I tell you, you're just going to remember me as General Monroe. It's clear now that nothing will change that. Hell, even if I saved some orphans and brought your family back you'd still hold a grudge." Someone pulled a 360. Guess I struck a nerve.

"What happened to five minutes ago, when you were trying to make me feel better?"

"Charlie, you're not the only one who has scars. Why can't you realize I've changed?"

"Yeah? Most of my family is dead. My mother is cold one second and caring the next. I'm being pulled in a million different directions- I'm not who I was."

"For some of us, that's a good thing." He was talking about himself.

"Yeah, alright."

They stood in the center of the room, still and silent, neither one daring to challenge the other. Finally, Charlie had enough of the silence.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to fight, but I just..Everything hit me at once tonight. I'm just...drained." Her voice was somber, as if she was still reliving her memories.

"Charlie, stop apologizing. We all go through shit, and it builds, and we feel like we're going to break. Some do. Some just get mad. Others are conflicted. Shit happens."

"Why now?"

"Well, you obviously weren't expecting anyone to come after you. And when your guard's down, crazy follows." Her face confirmed the obvious. She couldn't believe she was being comforted by someone she would have gladly put a bullet through a year ago.

"This is crazy."

"What is, Charlie?"

"This- You. Why are you doing this?"

"Because. I can't make up for everything I've done. I can live now, though. If that means being your punching bag or saving your ass for the fifth time, so be it."

"Nothing is going to fix anything."

"Well, I beg to differ."

"Why?"

"Twenty minutes ago you were a damn wreck. Your eyes were empty and you seemed like you were about to break. You still seem off, but there's Charlie here now, instead of some ghost in her place." The faintest trace of a smile flitted across her face, before she came forward and hugged Monroe.

"Bass, you are absolute shit at the whole 'atoning for your past mistakes' thing, but you did help."

Monroe smiled and held her closer. This was a part of him he wouldn't let many people see.

"I'll figure it out...eventually."

One thing he would never figure out? His need to go above and beyond. Mathesons drove him crazy, sometimes.

"When you dig someone else out of their troubles, you find a place to bury your own." - Anonymous

Hope you guys liked it! First fanfiction published here, because i've felt writey lately and it makes an amazing outlet. Anyways...I'm addicted to revolution, so Yeah.

EDIT: Just had to remove the lyrics, but the plot remains the same. :)