One-shot post 1x10, Monroe captures Charlie after the escape goes south in order to find out Miles' whereabouts so he could finish what they started. When the interrogation goes south, Monroe lets her go, but not without a fight. Based off a tumblr sentence prompt (could possibly add to this, at least one more chapter, but I want to finish some other fics first).
"Sir, permission to speak freely," Captain Jeremy Baker tiptoed around the elephant in the room. General Monroe had said, countless times, that he was always free to speak his mind, but still he felt the need to ask every time. Monroe was a man who often asked for the truth when he wasn't prepared for it.
Sighing, Monroe tipped the rest of the remaining whiskey in his crystal tumbler into his mouth, swallowing before he nodded tersely.
"Sir, I don't know what else can be done without permanently hurting the girl. Your methods haven't been working, I think we need to go in a different direction."
The interrogation was going nowhere. Charlotte Matheson had been in his custody since the jailbreak of her brother and mother, which didn't go as planned. That was also the day that his former best friend and brother, showed up, prepared to shoot him, and this time for good.
Miles danced around the thought of killing Bass before, but was never quite able to bring himself to pull the trigger. This time though, it felt different, Bass could see a look in his eyes that wasn't there previously. This look was one Bass had never seen before, a miracle because Bass knew Miles better than he knew himself, but nevertheless chilled him to the bone. He never anticipated a day when Miles would not only seriously consider killing him, but actually be willing to go through with it, had it not been for others showing up.
What should've angered Bass only filled him with sorrow. There was a time when he thought he had nothing to live for, when he had lost everything, but the one thing he always had was Miles. Miles always had his back from the time they were children, and Bass had his, but today was different. And with that thought, Bass could feel the anger brewing, starting at the tip of his toes, all the way up to the very top of his head. It was a warm, tingly sensation, not unlike the feel of alcohol settling in, but where alcohol made you feel warm and secure, anger ignited your bones until they were drenched in a blazing fire that would never be quenched.
He had grown so quiet Baker feared he overstepped his boundaries again, internally cursing himself for always listening to Bass when he knew he didn't really want the truth, not if it disagreed with his plan.
Buttoning the first two buttons on his uniform, Bass ran his hands along the crinkles in the suit, standing up, "I appreciate your honest criticism Jeremy, you've always been a good friend to me."
His breath hitched as Bass cupped his shoulder, advancing to the door. Only when Bass fully shut the door behind him did Jeremy release the breath he was holding onto for dear life, in hopes that it wouldn't be his last.
Bass couldn't help but frown as he brushed past Jeremy and saw the look of fear in his eyes. Sure it made Bass feel powerful at times, but when he saw those fleeting looks from people he considered to be friends, he cringed. Could he really have been that bad of a leader that people feared for their life for criticizing what obviously wasn't working?
The answer to that question simply, was yes; he was that bad, but Bass didn't have time to think about his leadership abilities right now. He had a country to run since Miles left him holding the bag while he went out and did…whatever the hell he did. Bass couldn't just walk away and leave, then who would keep everything up and running?
Unbolting the door leading to the holding cell, Bass' breath left his lungs immediately when he took in the sight of Charlie's head, slumping over in the chair in apparent defeat. When Jeremy said 'permanently hurting,' he didn't know that meant they were already causing physical damage to her tanned, silky, seemingly unmarked skin. Bass was an idiot to think that assigning Strausser to the job would've resulted in anything other than bodily torture, but at the moment Bass hadn't been thinking, he was too caught up in finding Miles.
Will Strausser, meticulously cleaning the blood residue from his knife, looked up at Monroe with a gleam in his eye, "a few more hours with me and she'll be singing like a songbird, although there are other methods that would get us results faster…Sir." It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was offering as a means of torture.
Miles taught Charlie well, that much was obvious. The only way to make her talk was to strip her of her safety, that being the last remaining bit of innocence she had left. Bass couldn't do that though, he wouldn't do that, and he sure as hell wouldn't let Strausser lay a damn hand on her, even if that meant he would never figure out where Miles was. Nothing was worth compromising Charlie.
Maybe it was because she reminded Bass so much of Miles. She was headstrong, determined, fierce, loyal, and dedicated to her family, but the more he thought about all the qualities she possessed, the more he realized she wasn't like Miles at all…she was like him. Charlotte Matheson was a younger, more innocent version of himself. The person he used to be before life dealt him with the world's shittiest hand.
Upon hearing his voice her body shook, a knee jerk reaction to his presence. There was something about him, other than him being an evil madman, that made Charlie uneasy, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She let her palms, calloused, cut, bruised, and covered in scars, fall to her side, hanging there like a limp ragdoll. Her breathing, the only indication of her heart still beating, had slowed, due to the loss of blood, to an almost nonexistent beat.
Strausser was not his favorite person, mostly because he didn't trust him remotely; in fact, the only reason he kept him around in the first place was because he knew how to get a job done. He never argued and never let his emotions or morals get in the way, though Bass suspected it had to do with the fact that he possessed neither of those things. That should've been his first clue something was wrong with that man. What kind of man looks downright giddy to interrogate someone and suggests going above and beyond normal means of questioning.
Bass, kicking his own ass for leaving her with Strausser in the first place, turned to him, "thank you, that will be all for now. I'm taking over."
Charlie froze in her hunched over position, due partially to the fact that she was too exhausted to move, and partially because those words raised a red flag in her mind.
Monroe was taking over, which could either be a good thing, or a disastrous thing, and Charlie wasn't confident which it would be. One thing she was sure of, she would rather get interrogated by Monroe than that sadistic, creepy, filthy Strausser she had the unfortunate experience of being left alone with.
Stunned into a few seconds of silence, Strausser forgot about cleaning his weapon for the moment to furrow his brows, "if this is about how long it's taking I apologize, though I did just offer up a solution on how to fix that predicament."
Shaking his head Bass would not back down, "this has nothing to do with the time it's taking, I've just come to the conclusion that I will take over from now…unless of course you have a problem with that?"
Raising his brows, Bass silently dared Strausser to speak out against him, then Bass would be able to justify killing him or exiling him, not that he needed a reason for doing so. He was the president of the Republic, he could feasibly do whatever he wanted, but it looked better on him if there was a just cause for his actions.
He should've known better. Strausser was overzealous and opinionated, but he wasn't suicidal or stupid. He knew that publicly opposing what Bass said would not result in anything favorable for him, so he kept his mouth shut, peering down at Charlie's almost lifeless form before snapping the heels of his boots together and exiting the cell door.
Turning towards the guards posted outside Charlie's door, with a wave of his hand he motioned for them to excuse themselves. Once the door was shut behind them Bass went hesitantly towards Charlie, "you can sit up now Charlotte, I sent Strausser away."
Wheezing, she kept her chin tucked down, "maybe I don't want to look at you either, ever thought of that?"
Sighing, Bass pinched the bridge of his nose, "Charlotte I'm trying to be nice here—"
"Nice?!" Her head snapped up so fast that black dots started to surround her vision, but she didn't care, "You're trying to be nice? Well I'd sure hate to see you be mean if your idea of nice is tying me to a chair and letting that disgusting asshole carve into my skin like he was cutting flesh off an animal."
Breathing ragged, chest heaving up and down as anger washed over her body in persistent tsunami waves, Bass could finally get a good look at the injuries caused by the 'disgusting asshole,' as she rightly put it.
There were cuts all over her face, some as deep as canyons, others shallow like streams or creeks. All of them sent a pang right to Bass' heart, cutting him like knives. Yes he was a ruler, and he had done terrible things, just like what Strausser had done to Charlie, but for some reason this affected him more than all of that. She was Miles' niece and, as much as he tried to hate Miles right now, he couldn't help but think about that.
His eyes softened as he took in the cut on her plump lip, sticking out more than when he first saw her due to the swelling. Even as his gaze softened, Charlie's never did. That fire he saw burning wildly in her eyes didn't seem to be tapering off in the least bit.
Reaching forward, he internally cringed when she flinched away from him as he began untying the rope, currently cutting off her circulation and making rings around her wrists and ankles no doubt.
This whole time she said nothing else, in fear that if she did, it would remind him of his goal and deter him from letting her go. She hated him and wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but more than anything she wanted to get free from this place and go back to what was left of her family.
As soon as the rope sprang free and fell silently to the ground, she rubbed at her red wrists, rubbed raw from trying to wiggle away from Strausser as far as possible.
Bending down, Bass stuck his hands out with the intention of releasing her ankles, but he couldn't resist looking up at her one more time. While she said nothing verbally, her face said it all. She was confused as to why he was doing this, and a little afraid that it was the calm before the storm. Bass didn't know which hurt worse, to know she thought he was capable of causing more damage to her, or to see the look of fear. A look he never wanted to see again in her eyes as long as he lived.
Slowly, as though not to spook her, he reached up with one hand, leaving the other on her knee securely, and caressed the side of her face. Lightly ghosting over the cuts and bruises now starting to show on her delicate skin. He was content when she didn't flinch away this time in fear; instead she remained stoic and frozen in place. Her breathing and heart rate became so quiet that his hand wandered down to the pulse point on her neck, checking to make sure she was indeed still breathing. He could feel the chill bumps rising on her skin everywhere his fingers went.
After a few moments, Bass smiled to himself when Charlie let out an audibly breath and relaxed just a hair, which was enough to encourage Bass to speak again, "I'm sorry Charlotte."
The apology was so low, he wasn't quite sure he said it until he got a glimpse of her stunned face, mouth parted in surprise as her eyes went wide. Obviously that was the last thing she expected to hear come out of his mouth.
Recovering quickly from her momentary lapse, a bitter laugh escaped her scratchy, dry throat, "well since you're sorry that just fixes everything now doesn't it?"
His fingers instantly stilled on her face as his jaw clenched. What was he supposed to say to that? He knew that saying sorry wasn't going to fix everything, hell he wasn't even sure it was going to fix anything, but didn't that at least show some sign he was trying. He fucked up…big time, but he was trying to make things better right here and now, at least as far as Charlie was concerned.
Focusing on untangling the rope around her ankles, he went back to their moments of silence, figuring that was the best way to avoid the argument sure to come from their conversation. Charlie was passionate, stubborn, and didn't give two shits about his feelings. Bass was short tempered, defensive, and quick to act before thinking. He was going to say they were like oil and water, no matter how you shook it, they would never truly be unified. But it was more accurate to say she was like water, seemingly innocent by itself but destructive once you added it to his grease fire.
Free from all ropes, Bass stood up and moved back a few paces, waiting on her to stand up and leave. He was surprised, to say the least, when she just sat there dumbfounded and looking at him.
Finally he snapped, "this isn't some damn trap Charlotte, I'm letting you go…so go," he barked out at her.
She didn't even recoil when he raised his voice and threw his arm out to showcase the door she could let hit her on the ass on the way out. For whatever reason, as soon as he finished untying her, she didn't think it was a trap, but she also didn't know what to think. That's the real reason why she sat there, that and the fact she wasn't sure she would be able to get up.
Sure enough as soon as she stood, she winced in pain and prepared for her knees to thud against the concrete floor when her legs suddenly gave out. Shutting her eyes tight, she waited for a feeling that never came. Warm, firm hands enclosing her and holding her up replaced it.
Opening her eyes, she met with a concerned Bass, who appeared to be silently beating himself up for pushing her so hard, "you're in no shape to go anywhere."
The fright flashing across her eyes caused Bass to amend his former statement, "you don't have to stay, but you'll be no use to Miles if you end up dead before you make it back. You can stay here a few hours, days, whatever, as long as you eat and get cleaned up."
When she didn't look convinced he dropped his voice, whispering face inches from hers, "you have my word Charlotte, and if anything, I always keep my promises."
Nodding she tried saying something, find her throat to be parched, she cleared it and started over, "only for a few hours, then I want to leave…I want to go home."
Dropping her head with the last statement, Bass smiled at the crown of her hair, moving to sling her arm over his shoulders as his other arm cupped gently around her side, "of course Charlotte."