So, even though I wrote fluff, I had to torture someone... Sorry Miles.
Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.
Also, some scenes in here may be graphic. Please exercise caution while reading.
- o – o -
Perfect Nightmare
"There's only one guy that ever scared me… He's out there, right now. We're in trouble." – Miles Matheson, Episode 8 – The Ties That Bind
Miles was having trouble sleeping, again. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, or anything. He got the requisite eight hours of sleep a night he needed—or the requisite six cups of ersatz coffee he needed to get his brain jumpstarted if he didn't get enough sleep. He was just…
Nightmares. He was having a lot of nightmares. Night terrors, if he had to be all clinical and specific. Nightmares could be woken up from, and Bass and Jeremy could get rid of the last vestiges of them. Night terrors, on the other hand… He couldn't wake up from those, and he was jittery all day after one of them hit him—Miles knew he was getting erratic. That made him dangerous. Uncontrolled dangerous, not his usual calculating predatory animal dangerous.
Miles sits on a rocking chair in the hospital nursery, holding Danny in his arms. The baby is colicky and cries a lot for someone so little, but he's still breathing. The Marine looks up and smiles as he sees Bass come in.
"I just got him to sleep," Miles whispers, holding a finger up to his lips. Danny tucks his fist under his chin, still snoozing. His uncle smiles at him, and pulls his hand away so Bass can pick him up. "He's gonna be a Marine someday, grip like that," Miles says proudly, voice still soft as his nephew grips Bass' thumb with a tiny baby hand.
"Of course he is."
Miles frowns. That's not… Why is Bass speaking with Strausser's voice? He sits there, still frowning.
"He won't stop screaming."
Miles looks up, eyes going wide. Bass is standing over Danny's crib, playing with a knife. Miles goes over, and wonders why it feels like he's moving through fudge or water. The newborn lying in his crib, face and body covered in shallow cuts. Danny is wailing in terror and flailing as Bass drags the knife gently across his face again, leaving a shallow cut in its wake.
Kill him. Miles whirls around, looking for whoever is speaking—it sounds like Strausser. Kill Bass. He's torturing your nephew. Miles looks at Bass, who's holding Danny in one arm, laughing as the baby boy wails loudly.
Kill him, save your nephew. There was Strausser's voice again. What the hell was he doing, having a dream with that prick in it? Miles couldn't see anything through the fog, but he could still hear Danny wailing and sobbing his tiny heart out.
Miles reached for the pot of coffee, pouring more into his mug. He topped it off with a generous shot of whiskey—just enough to steady his hands. He knew Bass wouldn't do that. He was just…not getting enough sleep. If he got some more sleep, he'd be able to focus and go to more pleasant dreams. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in three weeks. Last night's nightmare had been the worst so far.
Bass wouldn't hurt Danny. He'd been just as thrilled to see the kid as Miles had been, if not more so. (Miles suspected that Bass had been sleeping with Rachel, but what the hell. The kid was Ben's. Bass wasn't stupid enough to have sex without protection...well, back then, anyways. Now he just stuck with Miles and Jeremy. Which Miles didn't mind—it was fun.)
The man sighed into his mug of spiked coffee and downed the whole thing in one gulp. It burned, and not just from the whiskey. He filled his cup again and turned his attention back to the reports. If he did enough paperwork, the boredom would kill any nightmares that might try to spring up when he felt tired enough to sleep again.
Charlie laughs and catches the baseball, managing not to get hit in the face. "Look, Unca Mi! I did it!" She laughs with all the enthusiasm a four-and-a-half year old can muster. "I did it!"
Miles swoops his niece up, blowing a raspberry on her cheek. "That's right!" he crows, spinning her around. His niece laughs gleefully. "My future baseball player! Right Ben?" He stops, cradling Charlie against his chest. "…Ben?"
Bass is standing over Ben, holding a baseball bat. Ben's baseball bat, and it's covered in blood. Ben is dead. Rachel is next to the grill where she was minding the hamburgers, throat cut. She's so deathly pale. Kill him. Protect your niece. Strausser's back in his head.
"Bass, what have you done?"
Charlie's not in his arms anymore. She's laying on the ground, clutching her leg and whimpering. "U-unca …M-mi!" She's sobbing. Miles struggles against the zip ties holding him to the lawn chair in Ben's backyard. Bass picks up the baseball bat again and smiles at Miles as he swings it down to land on Charlie's ribs.
"Whoops!" Bass laughs as one of Charlie's ribs cracks. "I missed, Miles!"
Miles screams in rage, struggling so hard his wrists crack open and begin to bleed. Kill him, before he kills Charlie Strausser's voice says, whispering in Miles' ear. Miles tries so hard to free himself. Charlie continues sobbing as Bass breaks more of her bones. Her cries are cut short as Bass hits her in the jaw.
"Look! She stopped!"
Charlie lies on the ground, so still. You didn't save her. Danny's next. Kill Bass. Danny! Danny, no! Miles breaks free from his restraints, rushing across the yard to find his nephew. It feels like he's moving through molasses. He sees Bass bring the baseball bat down again, and there's—
Miles jerked awake, upending his coffee mug all over his finished paperwork. The general swore, blotting uselessly at the spilled coffee with a napkin. His paperwork—almost four hours worth of work—was ruined. He swore again, adding in a few of the more colorful terms he knew.
That was the last time he added whiskey to that particular brew. He ran a hand over his face, sighing as he encountered stubble. He'd shave, but it was just getting to be a trial to even crawl out of bed in the morning. He knew he looked like a mess, or human-shaped road kill. Miles just couldn't bring himself to care.
His nightmares were killing him. Miles was seriously beginning to consider putting his gun to his head just to make them stop.
Bass is going to kill your family. Stop him.
And Strausser's creepy voice had invaded his waking moments too. Miles sighed and beat his forehead against his desk, willing the voice to go away.
Kill Bass before he gets to your family.
Miles reached for the whiskey bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth. Getting drunk probably wasn't the best idea he'd ever had in recent weeks, but he was getting desperate. He drank the bottle as he did his paperwork, keeping it measured out between food so he didn't get too drunk. Just buzzed enough to block everything else out.
Jeremy and Bass, at least, were happy with the results later that evening. Miles lay sandwiched between his two lovers, drifting off with a pleasant ache all over.
As if any nightmares could get him after that… He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Miles sits in his office in Independence Hall, working on paperwork. Charlie's sitting next to him, playing with her giraffe. Miles wonders if she shouldn't be a lot older by now—it's been almost eleven years since he's seen her, after all. But hell, he'll take what he can get. Charlie holds up her giraffe for his inspection.
"Unca Mi! Look!"
Miles picks Charlie up and settles her on his lap so he can look at the giraffe. It's wearing a Monroe Militia uniform now, and she's been attempting to make the poor toy wear a hat. It hasn't attached well, and Charlie's skill with sewing definitely leaves something to be desired.
He looks back at his paperwork for a second. When he looks up again, he's bound to his chair. Charlie and Danny are close to Bass. Bass is cradling Danny in his arms, a sick smile on his face.
"Don't wake him up," Bass says in a singsong voice, stroking the side of Danny's chubby face with his thumb. He smiles and places his hand over the baby's mouth and nose. Danny wakes up and begins struggling, little baby sobs and hiccups muffled by Bass' hand. Miles struggles and tries to speak, only to discover he's been gagged as well. Bass gets tired of watching Danny's struggles get weaker, and wraps his hand around Danny's neck. Miles' struggles cease as the crack echoes around the room.
Kill him before he gets Charlie. Kill him. Miles is used to Strausser's voice by now. God help him, but he's beginning to agree with the sadistic bastard.
Bass is holding Charlie on his lap now, talking to her about his knife. Charlie sits perfectly still, cradled against the man's chest as he makes tiny incisions on her arms and legs. Miles struggles, straining against his bonds even as he starts to bleed. Charlie's limp against Bass' chest, bleeding freely from too many cuts for Miles to count.
He's killing her, and you're not stopping him. Kill him. Miles roars in anguish as Bass puts the knife against Charlie's throat.
"Whoops!" Bass giggles as he draws the knife down Charlie's jugular. "I slipped! Let's try that again…"
Miles hangs limply in his bonds, hands clenched around the arms of his chair.
Kill him. Strausser cuts the ropes holding Miles to the chair, and passes him a knife. Kill Bass. He killed your family.
Miles surges up, suddenly free. He's too late to save Charlie, but he can still get revenge!
Miles moved out of the quarters he'd shared with Bass as soon as he got up the next morning. He lied to Jeremy, saying he didn't want to disturb him or Bass with his nightmares. Besides, he'd probably benefit from sleeping alone.
Jeremy gave him a dubious look, but helped him move anyways.
The general didn't have the courage to tell his best friend that he was afraid he was going to kill Bass. He had a feeling that if he did, the nightmares would stop. He was afraid for Bass, for Jeremy… He was afraid for himself.
Miles put a knife under his pillow before going to sleep that night, just in case.
Miles struggles against the ropes holding him spread-eagled to his bed in his new quarters. Bass is cuddling Charlie, telling her another story. The man is fully clothed in his dress uniform, and Charlie is wrapped up in a thick, fuzzy towel. Miles grinds his teeth against his gag, trying to chew through it so he can finally demand answers.
"Unca Mi," Charlie says, with all the seriousness a four-and-a-half-year-old could muster, "save me." Miles reels in horror as the towel falls away to reveal his niece's naked body. Her pale, soft skin in a tapestry of bruises and welts, and there are deep cuts on her chest and belly. Miles struggles, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Isn't she beautiful, Miles?" Bass says, settling Charlie on his lap so she's facing her uncle. "Just look at her. She's going to be Miss America some day, isn't she?" He smiles that sick smile of his again and pulls on a lock of Charlie's hair, which is matted and filthy. "That's saying, of course, that she wants to be a Rebel. I think Miss Monroe Republic has a nicer ring to it, don't you?"
Miles nods weakly, hoping he can distract Bass long enough to free himself so he can save Charlie.
Kill Bass. Kill him now!
Miles slips his hands free from the ropes holding him to the headboard, feeling under his pillow for his knife. His hand closes around it. He's grateful that Bass is occupied elsewhere—standing over a bassinet… Oh god, no. NO!
The general lunges forward, slashing wildly with the knife. He pulls Bass away and punches the knife into the man's kidneys, slashing anywhere he can reach.
His nephew is in the bassinet. What's left of the baby boy, anyways.
Good boy… Kill him. Strausser's voice is reverberating around his head, giving Miles praise for killing Bass. You saved them, Miles. Good boy.
Miles cradles Charlie in his arms, sobbing into the little girl's hair. He can't express his grief enough. This is all his fault.
Miles dressed in civilian clothes the next morning. Corporal Strausser was waiting outside his door, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of paperwork in the other.
"Going somewhere, sir?" the corporal asked, the picture of concern. Miles grumbled something halfway obscene into his mug of coffee, flipping through the stack of annotated reports Corporal Strausser had given him. Just more crap about the Rebels, some boring crap about the Plains Nations, some interesting crap about the latest Amazon nutcasery (led by the amazingly insane General Hall), and some more interesting crap about Georgia. Basically, it was just crap. But he had to deal with it.
Kill Bass. He's planning to kill your family, you know.
Miles started, sloshing some coffee over the reports as he jerked. He shook away Strausser's concern, ordering the man to get him some more coffee. Miles headed for Recruit Clayton's desk as soon as the man was gone.
"I know where your sympathies are," Miles said as soon as he'd dragged the recruit—Nora—into a quiet room. She reached for the knife on her belt. Brave, but stupid. He held up a hand to stall her. "Can you get people out of Philadelphia without being noticed? Or getting them captured?"
Nora looked at him. "If they make it worth my while…" she said slowly, giving him a calculating look.
"Good. Midnight tonight. I'll have a package waiting for you. Don't be late." He left without another word.
Despite the nightmares, Miles didn't think he'd be able to kill his best friend from childhood. He couldn't…
Danny's in his stroller, gurgling happily at whatever's caught his attention. Miles' nephew can't really lift his head up on his own—he's so weak, for a baby that's almost a year old now—so he's probably caught side of a cloud. Miles smiles and readjusts the canopy on the stroller. His future Marine, despite the coordination issues. Charlie's latched tightly onto the hem of Miles' shirt, staring wide-eyed at her baby brother.
"Unca Mi! It's Unca Fishy!"
Miles looks up, smiling as he sees Bass. Rachel and Ben aren't around, so he's babysitting. Yeah. Cool. Bass has a caramel apple and ice cream. Despite the numerous rules to the contrary, Miles' best friend hands the ice cream to Charlie.
"Rachel's going to kill us for that," Miles says, watching Charlie sit on the edge of the sidewalk to eat her ice cream. Bass shrugs, occupied with his apple, which is starting to melt in the heat.
"Oh well."
Miles rolls his eyes, sitting down next to Charlie. He barely restrains the curses he'd like to utter when it starts raining right out of nowhere. Bass drags the three Mathesons into a beach shack, laughing and shaking damp curls out of his face.
"This is great!" Bass laughs, shoving Miles into a chair. Miles struggles as his friend wraps a net around him, tying him to the chair so tightly he can barely breathe. "I'm going to have a lot of fun with Charlie and Danny now…"
Miles is too scared to contemplate just why he's hearing Strausser's voice instead of Bass'. Charlie's hanging from the wall, arms stretched over her head, tied tightly to a hook—her fragile little wrists are bleeding badly, and she's only making the injury worse as she struggles. Her sandaled feet kick uselessly against the wall as Bass shoves the broken end of a spar into her belly. He laughs as Charlie's screams fill the shack. Charlie struggles against the wooden spike holding her pinned against the wall, begging "Unca Fishy" to stop hurting her. The wall behind her is stained dark, rich red with arterial blood until she finally stops struggling. Bass is cradling Danny in his arms, a wicked smile on his face.
"It's almost a shame to kill this one, you know," Bass says with Strausser's voice. "He'd grow up to be such a beautiful child—just like his older sister!" Bass laughs insanely, tugging at Danny's peach fuzz hair, which is in dire need of a cut. The man laughs as Danny kicks feebly at his chest, wailing in terror. Miles struggles against the net holding him in place, watching in horror as Bass breaks Danny's arms.
Kill him. You're weak. You can't defend them, so avenge them. KILL HIM!
Miles sobs brokenly as the snap-snap-snap of delicate, brittle, baby-sized bones echoes around the beach shack, somehow louder than the pouring rain outside. Bass laughs loudly as Danny wails in his arms.
"I'll break his jaw next, Miles. Isn't he just adorable like this?"
Miles sobs as he hears his best friend kill his nephew. He doesn't even notice when he's freed. Bass is looking down at him, licking blood off his lips like it's melted ice cream. Miles grabs Bass' head in his hands and twists.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
All Miles can hear is the mantra that Strausser's voice is chanting over and over again as Bass falls to his feet, neck broken.
Miles ran to the meeting place he'd arranged with Nora earlier in the day. He was almost twenty minutes early, but it looked like Nora had been waiting even longer. She looked at Miles' pack and the bloody sword in his hand, eyebrows raised.
"Let's go," she said. "If you tried to kill him, I won't charge you for this."
Miles followed her out of Philadelphia through an old sewer tunnel. He stopped to look back at Philadelphia once they were far away, eyes misty. It was the last time he'd ever see the place he'd called home.
He prayed that Bass didn't die. A shallow cut… He'd only been able to manage a shallow cut. Oh god, what had he done?
You weak, pathetic old fool…
Miles prayed that Bass was never weak enough for Strausser to pry his way inside his mind.
He wished that running away hadn't been his only option.
- o – o -
Freeport was a nightmare. That was all Miles could think of as he saw Strausser on that bridge, so close to him for the first time in four years. As he'd thought, during that drunken binge while he'd done paperwork for the final time, the nightmares had stopped once he'd gotten far enough away from Philadelphia. They'd been…on the edge of his mind, when Strausser had been close to him—Miles didn't know how, but the nightmares were a good warning sign if the man was closing in on him. Alcohol had made the nightmares stop completely, once he'd reached Chicago. Miles had thought about just getting drunk, but that would have been dangerous. He'd opened a bar instead, used the fumes to get buzzed every day.
And then, Charlie had walked back into his life. Charlie, his niece, all grown up and stubborn as hell. Miles had retreated when he'd forced her away. He'd done his best to find the bottom of that bottle of single malt, but there'd been enough left for one more glass when he'd left with Charlie and her loyal band. The closer they'd gotten to Philadelphia, the more Miles had begun to miss his bar.
Freeport had hammered the point home.
Kill Bass.
The voice he knew for a fact was Strausser's had echoed in his mind from the second he'd dueled the prick. Strausser had gotten back in his mind. That wasn't a comforting thought. All Miles could be sure of was that he wasn't going to be sleeping easily for a while.
He took as many watches as he could, but then Charlie had decided to be stubborn and make him sleep. Miles did so grudgingly.
Miles is in Bass' office again. Charlie's sitting on a chair in front of the fireplace, wearing that ridiculous dress Drexel put her in. Miles wishes he'd been able to give Charlie a different dress—she's too old for Prom or Sweet Sixteen parties, but damn if he didn't want to make it up to her somehow. Danny's next to her, wearing that blue shirt he'd been wearing on the train.
The former general creeps forward, keeping an eye out for Bass. He sees his nephew first. The boy's face is a mess of cuts and bruises, and his eyes are closed. Miles presses a hand over his mouth to keep himself from vomiting as he sees that his nephew's eyelids are concave over what he's pretty sure are empty sockets. Dried blood seeps down from Danny's ruined eyes like tears. The boy's been worked over by a monster.
Charlie isn't doing much better. She's breathing shallowly, eyes closed. There are shallow cuts all over her body, and she's been tortured enough to stain her clothes rust-red. Miles sinks to his knees, hands clasped behind his head as he sobs. He's failed them again.
Bass is standing next to him, eating an apple. (Bass hates apples, Miles thinks muzzily.) "They really are my best work, I have to say. The boy especially. He's soft, like his mother. I had to take his eyes out, which was a pity. Don't want him looking for answers, you know?" Bass laughs, sounding insane. "It's perfect! He screams so beautifully…" Bass trails a hand down the side of Danny's face, and Miles flinches at the broken whimper he hears.
"Charlie, though… Oh Charlie." Bass paces around, still giggling madly. "She's still perfect. I think a few more cuts…"
Kill him. He's going to kill your family. KILL HIM!
Miles sobs as he hears Bass whistling. Long strands of gold hair fall down in front of him, and the former general looks up. Bass is sawing Charlie's hair away, laughing as she flinches. His knife slips, leaving deep cuts in Charlie's head, face, and neck. She whimpers brokenly.
KILL HIM NOW!
There's a warm breeze coming in the window. Miles looks away, hoping the window is open. There are tiny cracks in the window, and they look like they're getting bigger. He frowns as he sees the sun stubbornly poking its way through dark clouds.
KILL BASS! Sergeant Strausser's voice sounds desperate and incredibly angry. Miles stands up and walks over to the window, pulling it open. The summer-warm breeze wafts into the room, a little stronger than the light promise it had been as it wormed through the cracks.
Go away, and leave him alone. There's a new voice. It's softer. Feminine. Gentler. Miles looks back at the office as soft, buttery golden light fills the room behind him. Bass is sitting at the table now, laughing at a joke. Jeremy's there too, rolling his eyes and trying hard not to smile as Bass cracks up. Charlie and Danny are sitting at the table. Charlie's nursing a large mug of tea and telling another story. Danny's wolfing down strawberry tarts—his favorite, and he could eat his bodyweight in them if he could. Except…Miles knows he has no idea what foods Danny likes, or how much the kid would eat. Those aren't his thoughts… How does he know Danny likes strawberry tarts? All he knows is that Charlie looked after her little brother…
Go sit with them, the gentler voice instructs. Question the weirdness later, okay?
Miles smiles and sits down next to Bass. And, because it feels right, he presses a kiss onto the man's lips. "I've missed you," he whispers. Bass gives him a gentle kiss on the forehead in return.
"Come home," he says. This time, his voice is his. Not Strausser's. Miles smiles and gives Jeremy the same treatment, drawing a disgusted retching noise from Danny and Charlie. Miles laughs and pulls Bass down for another kiss. Jeremy gets in on it and laughs uproariously as Charlie shoots them a betrayed look.
Pleasant dreams, the soft voice says. Miles relaxes with his little family, laughing as Danny tells them about the time Charlie caught herself in her own snare. Even if this is a dream, it's a good one. He doesn't want it to end.
Miles woke up with a sigh, feeling tears drying on his cheeks. It was the best night's sleep he'd had in a while. No nightmares. He smiled and sat up, stretching. His spine popped loudly and he groaned.
"I'm getting too old for this," he complained, massaging the kinks out of his back.
"No you're not," Charlie said. "Pleasant dreams last night?" she asked, holding out a slice of traveler's bread with what Miles' nose said were eggs and real butter layered on it. Miles accepted the toast and stuffed it into his mouth whole. Charlie made a retching noise.
"Yeah, actually," Miles replied. He smiled at her and rolled his blanket back up. As they started out for the day, Miles made a point to walk next to his niece. "So, I've heard a lot about Danny, but I want to know some things about you. Well, more…"
Charlie looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Did you ever get yourself caught in one of your own snares?" he asked.
Miles laughed and sprinted away from his niece, who looked outraged. Still, there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she chased him, accusing him of talking to Aaron, who was obviously a traitor.
After a while, Charlie cooled off and deigned to let her uncle walk near her.
"Thank you," Miles added in an undertone.
Charlie smiled and rolled her eyes.
- o – o -
So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Did I torture Miles too much? Drop a line and let me know!