A/N: This is a gift for the NBC Revolution LJ Secret Santa Gift Exchange for Hithelleth. It was meant to be posted by yesterday, but I've been fighting with my computer and internet since yesterday evening, with a brief couple hours to sleep. I'm so sorry Thellie! I combined bits and pieces of your prompts with (eventual) Charloe, Charlie being heiress to the Republic, and affectionate Miles & Charlie, with bits of Jeremy thrown in. The rating may eventually change.

This is the first chapter for a longer fic that will eventually be Charloe and everything else will take place at least six years further into the future. I'm sorry I've been MIA when it comes to posting, but I've been in the motivation doldrums. Once again I'm feeling a bit rusty, but delving back in has been a lot of fun. *Hopefully* I'll be posting again soon!

Six Years after the Blackout

The soldiers had very big guns.

As the little blonde girl crouched in the dirt hiding behind some bushes, she bit her lip as she anxiously studied the militia men outside the fort. They made her nervous and her family had always hid from them in the past, but Daddy had told her to come here and ask for Uncle Miles right before he...

Feeling the threat of tears, she bit her lip hard, refusing to cry anymore. She had already done too much of that in the past two days and she had to be strong. Mom had said she was becoming a young lady, so she would need to act like one. It was starting to get dark out and she didn't want to spend another night sleeping in the forest; it was frightening alone. If she was going up to the gates, it would have to be soon, as the soldiers were getting ready to seal them for the evening. Making up her mind, she looped her arms through her backpack, steeled her shoulders in determination, and slowly walked out from behind the bushes.

As she reached the guards, she stopped in front of the one that looked the nicest. "Excuse me?"

The guard looked down at her, bemused. "What do you need miss?" He asked kindly.

"I was hoping to speak to someone in charge," she said slowly. "My village was attacked and before he-before he died," her voice broke and it took her a few seconds to get her emotions under control. "My Dad said to come to the fort and ask for my Uncle."

Sympathy softened the man's face as he gazed at her. "Is your uncle stationed here, kid?"

She shook her head in the negative, but supplied an answer anyway. "I don't think so, he's in a city, but my Dad said you'd be able to find him for me."

"Do you know his name?"

She nodded. "Miles."

"What about a last name?"

She shrugged.

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"Charlotte Matheson."

The man's eyes widened.

Miles had stormed into the fort HQ demanding to know where his niece was. Her lessons in the militia school had just ended and she'd been taken back to the home of the garrison's commanding officer, Colonel Lang. His wife had been looking after Charlie and she'd been staying with Lang's two daughters. The Colonel had been quick to escort General Matheson to his home, nervously explaining the situation, anxiously trying to please. Miles had to roll his eyes and bite his tongue to keep himself from telling the man to shut up. Once they'd reached his home, he'd cut the man off and asked to be directed to his niece.

Slamming into the room, the door swinging hard against the wall, he saw a small blond girl sitting on a chair jump at the noise and drop the book she'd been reading from her lap.

His mouth opened and closed.

Nothing came out.

Wary blue eyes assessed him. Ben's eyes.

He had no fucking clue what to say.

Miles had been so stuck in the idea of getting to Charlie, that he'd never bothered to figure out what he'd say when he found her.

"Uh, hi," he tried, before wincing at his own idiocy, calling himself five kinds of a moron.

She seemed to agree, one little eyebrow arching up, an eerie facsimile of his ball-breaking, scary-as-fuck sister-in-law. Miles shuddered, manly playing it off as a shiver.

"Bit cold in here."

That little brow moved higher.

It was 80 degrees out and his undershirt was clinging to him like a second skin.

He was messing this up, badly. Miles knew that. But hell, he'd never been all that good with kids. Hence why he'd never particularly wanted any. Sure, he was good at being a cool uncle, giving great gifts and treats behind the parents' backs, but actually having a conversation with a kid? Never.

Besides, the last time he'd seen his niece she'd just prattled on about some cartoon explorer chick named Dora.

Sighing, Miles moved closer, crouching down in front of her. They studied each other for a few minutes, eyes locked in a staring game.

He blinked first. Her mouth shifted a fraction.

"Do you know who I am Charlie?" He finally asked.

His niece studied him with big, solemn eyes, her face far too serious for a child of her age. Although after what she'd seen, Miles didn't expect any different. Her gaze ran over his face and uniform, taking everything in. Finally she nodded slowly, her tongue licking her lips nervously. "You're Daddy's brother. You're my Uncle Miles."

"That's right." Miles paused unsure of what to say about the loss of her family, but knowing he had to say something. "I'm really sorry...for what happened. I got here as quickly as I could when I heard."

Well, that had sounded completely generic.

She nodded again, bending forward to pick up the book that she'd dropped when he'd startled her.

"You're safe now. No one will ever hurt you again."

Charlie's eyes flitted back to him. Assessing. Taking his measure. She opened her mouth to say something but instead decided to reopen her book and pick up reading from where she'd left off, dismissing him.

Conversation over.

Raking his hand through his hair in frustration, Miles stood to his full height, knees creaking. He couldn't force her to talk to him. She was obviously unsure of him. Here he was a stranger, a relative, but a stranger just the same. He didn't even know if Charlie remembered him or not. He'd have to ask her later when she started to talk more.

Now that he'd seen his niece, finding Lang was a necessity. He should talk to the man's wife as well. Miles needed all the information he could get.

Mumbling that he'd be back in a little bit, her eyes never moving from the page to acknowledge him, he made his exit, this time closing the door quietly on his way out of the room. Seeing no one in the hallway, Miles's shoulders slumped.

He had no clue what he was doing. He was a soldier and had no idea how to raise a child, especially not a girl. He fidgeted with the fancy cuff-links Bass had gifted him in the first few years of the Republic.

Inspiration struck.

He had to get back to Bass. His friend would know what to do; he'd had younger sisters.

With that thought in mind, Miles rallied and hastened down the hallway, plans already forming for their departure.

She was slightly afraid of him. And he hated it.

Miles thought part of it was the uniform he wore, as her eyes would flick to it frequently and her already stern little mouth would flatten even more. She didn't have much to say, which was a stark contrast from the happy, talkative, rambunctious little girl he remembered.

He knew Charlie was traumatized from witnessing her family's deaths, that she was grieving, but she wouldn't talk about it. She preferred to watch, constantly wary of her surroundings, startling at loud noises liked a spooked horse. He was unsure how much of her behavior was from the violent murders and how much had been bred into her from simply being on the run.

He'd asked if she remembered him and only gotten a shrug for an answer.

Miles almost wished for tears, at least then he'd know what he was dealing with. Instead he was getting the Rachel Matheson ice-queen facade. It was obvious Charlie had learned the behavior from her mother. It was something his sister-in-law had used as a defense mechanism, a barricade to hide emotional tumult. Underneath it was a raging inferno of feelings, tightly controlled, and all the time that super-sonic brain was firing away.

He shouldn't have been so surprised that Charlie took after her mother in this respect. He just would never have imagined an 11-year old to be so good at it.

While awake at least.

At night, Charlie's sleep was wracked by terrible nightmares, her cries and screams reaching his ears in the room next to hers. He'd rush into the room and wake her, before getting her a glass of water and giving her an awkward pat on the back or shoulder. He didn't know what else to do, whether or not Charlie would welcome a hug from him. She never asked and so Miles never offered.

Good Christ, was he out of his depth. As far as he was concerned, they couldn't leave this place and get back to Bass fast enough.

"What do you think about living in Philadelphia?" Miles asked his niece, the day before they were due to leave the fort. "It's the capital of the entire Republic. My friend Bass is the President and he lives there."

Nothing.

"I have a house there and the schools are good. Do you think you'd like that?"

Her serious eyes fixed on him as she pursed her lips in thought. After a few minutes, Charlie shrugged her little shoulders and turned back to her book.

He was starting to hate that ambivalent little movement she made to avoid conversation. Striving to find anything positive about the situation, Miles was happy to note she hadn't ignored his question that time.

You're groping pal.

Glancing at the book in her hands, Miles grasped at inspiration and tried again. "We have a big library there. You could read as many books as you want."

Her gaze instantly meshed with his, a dim light burning in her orbs, obviously tempted by his offer.

It was resorting to bribery, but Miles frankly didn't care, as he desperately watched his niece, hoping for a response of some kind.

The left side of her mouth quirked.

Not a smile, but Miles counted himself lucky it wasn't another shrug.

He decided to push his luck. "Maybe...you could trust me, just a little." Her mouth pursed, mirth gone. He sighed, might as well go for it now. "Charlie, Please trust me."

She studied him intently, finally giving him a small nod.

She didn't know what to think of her uncle. He wore the militia uniform, carried a gun, and looked so sinister sometimes. Like one of the villains in her books.

Except he never hurt her or yelled at her. She rather thought Uncle Miles didn't really know what to think of having to take care of his niece. There was a look in his eyes sometimes, although she could only guess what it meant. Uncertainty, maybe a hint of fear.

She knew he wanted her to talk to him, but Charlie didn't know what to say.

Charlie wasn't sure of the situation, so she decided to do what her parents had always advised: observe. They had told her and Danny it was one of the keys to scientific research and understanding. One must be patient and observe.

Her memories of the world before the lights went out were vague, but she remembered her Uncle Miles. He had been handsome, and fun, always bringing great presents, taking her to fun places, and sneaking her candy.

He looked like the uncle she remembered. Sort of. He had the same brown eyes and tan face, although it never split into easy smiles anymore and he never laughed. There was the same dark shadow of hair on his cheeks that never quite went away, no matter the time of day. He'd use to rub it against her skin when he'd hugged her, always making her giggle. His hair was the same color, a bit more gray, but the style was different, all slicked back. She thought it looked a bit funny, all shiny. It didn't move like it had done when he'd taken her for a ride in his car with the windows down as they'd sung along to the music from the radio. He was thinner and there were more wrinkles around his eyes. Probably from worry, that's what Mom said caused the little lines to appear. And her uncle seemed to be a busy man. Everyone wanted to talk to him or give him messages or get orders from him, and now he had her to take care of too. Charlie decided that would probably be enough to cause wrinkles.

She didn't know what to think, so she stayed quiet, read her books, and stole glances at him from time-to-time.

Charlie looked away when her uncle caught her staring too long.

Could she trust him? He'd asked her to. Would he leave her alone as well? He probably wouldn't do that...right? After all, he'd come for her. Maybe she could trust him, just a little.

She wondered what Danny would think.

Blinking back tears, Charlie returned to her book.

She missed her family.

There was a lot of one-sided conversation on the trip eastward. After a week of nothing but silence from his niece, just gestures, and an endless stream of messengers reporting supply shortages and casualties, Miles was ready to yank his hair out in frustration. Bass would know how to fill the silence; it was a gift, his ability to make a quip and instantly relax a tense situation.

Miles frequently kept his eye on Charlie, making sure she was all right, and he was aware she was taking it all in, listening to all the reports and his replies. Finally, he would resort to explaining the minutia of his job to her, just to have something to talk about.

Maybe if he bored her badly enough, she'd pick another topic.

She never did.

God, he sucked at this parenting thing already.

"We're going to stop and pick up my friend here and go onto Philly together."

She shrugged.

Miles ground his teeth in frustration. He would not beg a kid to talk to him. He was a General, he could...

"Okay," Charlie said quietly.

A little grin passed over his lips quickly, and the furrows of his forehead smoothed out. Two syllables had never sounded so good.

The first time he saw this older version of his niece smile, it had been Bass who'd incited it.

They'd stopped at the fort in Harrisburg and Miles had been given the news that the President was already waiting for them. Satisfaction filled him, knowing Bass had been able to consolidate their gains in Maryland and gotten the treaties signed. All the terrible things he'd done in Baltimore wouldn't be for nothing.

Hopefully Charlie wouldn't learn how much of a monster her uncle was for a few years yet.

Things between them had shifted, marginally. She didn't stare at him in blatant mistrust anymore and didn't cringe from him when he tried to comfort her during the nightmares, although the frequency of her bad dreams had lessened. Their conversations were downright verbose now, compared to how they were in the beginning. He'd blabber for minutes on end and eventually he'd pull one or two words from the kid. When he got more than three, he felt absurdly pleased with himself. She was a tough nut to crack.

He couldn't wait to see Charlie shut down Sebastian Monroe. He knew his best friend would attempt to charm her; he just couldn't help himself. It was in his DNA. But Miles had faith Charlie wouldn't fall for any of that nonsense. She likely would eventually, most females fell for Bass's charm at some point, but Miles was sure she'd make him work for it.

They'd found the President in the command tent, alone and going over some maps. He'd looked up and grinned at the sight of his scary commanding general and the woebegone girl beside him.

They'd shared a manly bear hug, patting each other's backs and laughing. Charlie had looked on bemusedly.

Bass had turned his attention to her, holding his hand out, clasping hers firmly when she offered it. "Hello Charlotte, it's nice to finally meet you. I'm Sebastian Monroe, a friend of your Uncle Miles."

And then he'd bowed over her hand and laid a kiss on the back of it.

Ruthless charmer.

Miles watched in shock and the smallest bit of indignation as a small grin flashed across his niece's lips.

Traitor.

Miles had growled and Bass had laughed, turning to grab a couple items from the table behind him. There was a small package wrapped in brown paper and a basket covered with what looked to be an old lace doily.

Charlie had taken the wrapped parcel, carefully unfolding the twine and loosing the edges so it could be reused. Before the blackout it wouldn't have been much, but after, wrapping paper of any kind was a luxury. Most of it had been used as kindling, burned for fuel, toxic as it was.

There was a pretty suede bookmark; green, Charlie's favorite color. How Bass had remembered that, he'd never know. Underneath it was the book Jane Eyre.

Miles had never read it, had vaguely heard of it. He thought it might be by some repressed British chick who lived hundreds of years ago. But that didn't matter, because Charlie was actually smiling. It wasn't a gaping grin, just a nice simple smile.

Of course she'd smile at Bass for giving her a book. Never mind that he'd been the one to mention in one of his expresses that all his niece ever seemed to do was read.

Man up, you dumb prick.

"Thank you," she said quietly, surprising both men when she continued speaking. "It was Grandma Porter's favorite book. Mom would talk about it, but we were never able to find a copy before...," her voice trailed away.

"I'm sorry Charlotte," Bass said contritely. "Maybe I should have picked something else. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"I like it." Charlie clutched the book to her stomach, as if afraid they'd take it away from her. "Mom and Grandma would be happy that I can read it."

"Okay." Bass was relieved. "Want to look at your second gift now?"

Charlie took the lace doily off the basket, gently setting it atop her book. It was filled with strawberries. Her face lit with excitement. They had become somewhat rare. People foraged for and harvested whatever they could find these days and strawberries were not a necessary food source. They were gathered and sold at markets for those able to afford such an indulgence. She'd immediately grabbed a couple of the berries and popped them into her mouth, closing her eyes at the taste, humming in delight. Both men couldn't resist a laugh at her reaction. She opened her eyes and giggled a bit, smiling widely up at Bass, seeds stuck in her teeth.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Call me Bass, Charlotte. And you're welcome." He smiled that wide, toothy grin of his, skin crinkling, dimples on full display, and Miles watched as his niece's cheeks went scarlet.

Embarrassed, Charlie looked down at the basket in her hands. Grabbing a few more to nibble on, she generously offered the treat to the two men. As Miles chewed his berries, he mused over it. He felt a little twinge of jealousy that Bass was so easy with Charlie, had gotten such a big smile and a line of conversation out of her. But this was why he'd wanted to reach his best friend so quickly. Besides, as long as Charlie was smiling, it didn't much matter who'd caused it.

If this was the reaction a book and some fruit got, he'd build her a library himself and annex Georgia just to give Charlie her own grove of peach trees.

Charlie acclimated to Philadelphia well. She'd been a bit unsure of her surroundings at first, eyes swinging this way and that at the chaos moving around her. Sheltered away living in rural areas, Charlie was unused to the noise of the city, unexposed to it since childhood. She found it overwhelming at first, and mostly stayed indoors when not at school, but she invariably could be located staring out from windows intrigued by the action on the streets.

There was a woman who worked at the school who'd been a social worker before the blackout and Miles arranged for her to visit Charlie to try and counsel her over the trauma of losing her family. The woman helped and Charlie began speaking more and started venturing outside.

She'd met Captain Baker and had warmed up to him quickly. He was second only to Bass in receiving Charlie's smiles. The man was great with kids, just didn't want any himself. Jeremy made a point to stop by and speak with her several times per week.

Miles had sent ahead to have a bedroom readied for his niece and his personal gift had been one entire wall of bookcases, partially filled. She'd turned to him, both excitement and curiosity in her eyes. He told her she could pick out the rest of the books herself.

An unholy glee had lit her eyes.

It had deepened when he'd announced he'd take her to the library.

At seven the next morning, Charlie was waiting for him as he stumbled into his office, bleary-eyed and still hungover from the night before. Her hair was neatly braided and her windbreaker zipped up.

When Miles said they'd go the library he hadn't meant they'd go first thing that morning. But, he'd seen the wary expectation in her eyes and not wanting to let her down, they'd been out the door five minutes later.

The impromptu visit to the library was worth it though to see the happiness on her face, as she wandered up and down the aisles, pulling books free to peruse before replacing them carefully. She kept a couple out here and there and Miles passed them off to one of his subordinates playing pack-mule, trailing behind them.

On the way home, Charlie had reached out and taken hold of his hand. He'd squeezed back.

The library became a weekly visit, either Miles, Bass or Jeremy always willing to take her.

Charlie had taken to watching the men practice their sparring. Miles hadn't been sure what to make of it when she'd first shown up in the small workout and gymnasium area he and Bass had cobbled together for their personal use. It was really only the two of them that used it regularly, although Jeremy was found there often enough, and they'd invite the odd officer to square off in a friendly, albeit competitive fight.

He didn't say anything, not minding now that his niece was curious. She'd likely found them, following the noise, during her tenuous explorations. Always guarded, of course. As she'd grown more confident, it wasn't unusual to find her jumping off ledges or scampering up trees before her guards could stop her.

She seemed to find all the activity fascinating. Her favorite seemed to be when they sparred with practice swords. Her eyes tracked their movements, logging everything for future reference.

He'd been worried at first that the violence might scare her, but Charlie was recovering and getting better. Mentioning it to the social worker, he was assured there was nothing wrong with her interest, that it might help her to learn self-defense. Miles had been mulling it over in his head, not having made his decision yet on when she should start learning.

But he never discouraged her from watching.

After a couple weeks of this behavior, Bass had turned to him and raised his eyebrows before glancing over at Charlie and back again. Having one of their silent conversations, Miles rolled his neck, going over the variables in his head. Not coming up with many reasons to not allow it, he'd nodded at his best friend. Bass had grinned, pleased he'd gotten his way, and looked back at Charlie.

"Would you be interested in learning how to fight Charlotte?"

Her big grin had been answer enough.

The first time his niece smiled at him, she was holding a wriggling juvenile chipmunk a few inches under his nose while he was sitting at a conference table surrounded by Bass and the highest ranking officers currently stationed in Philly. Miles had spluttered and stared at the pathetic little thing, aware of the amusement of the men and women around him. Charlie had found it under a bush behind their house, with a mangled paw, and already named it Buddy. Miles knew what he was getting conned into the second he saw that hopeful gleam in her big blue eyes, Baker hiding a chortle behind a theatrical cough, and Bass smiling, while congratulating his niece on being so kind-hearted, causing her cheeks to pinken with the ever-present blush his smiles caused. Miles had groaned and nodded, telling her she could keep the critter. She'd smiled blindingly and given him a pat on the arm, as she pulled the chipmunk against her chest, and excused herself.

They now had a pet chipmunk. A Goddamn chipmunk.

It was a petty revenge, but he assigned Jeremy the task of finding and building an acceptable habitat to contain the little guy and tracking down any books on the subject, sure that Baker had been in on the discovery and adoption from the get-go. As Charlie followed the captain out of the room, she'd turned and smiled once more at her uncle before leaving.

A pet chipmunk seemed a simple price for one of his niece's smiles. It also made it easy to ignore his officers' knowing smirks.

That incident had started a friendly pranking rivalry between Bass, Miles, and Jeremy. Charlie got advice from all of them and caused trouble equally between the three men. At Jeremy's instigation, she'd glued her uncle's whiskey cabinet shut. Bass had gotten dozens of fresh roses buried in his closet with all his uniforms. And Jeremy had gotten vegetable dye in his shampoo.

After that, the men had called a halt to things, but Charlie still loved to sneak a prank by them every so often. She'd inherited her parents intelligence and applied herself to the task.

Miles had taken a perverse amount of pleasure at the sight of Jeremy's perfectly quaffed hair colored a horrid green, and made the decision to assign him as Charlie's permanent guard.

She'd never let the man live it down.

It was nearly eight months after her uncle had come for her that Charlie knew they would be okay.

Bass had been over for dinner earlier, pulling grins out of her easily. She thought she might have a bit of a crush on him, as he was always nice to her, made her blush, and had given her the book Jane Eyre, which was now her favorite. It reminded her of Mom. He was the only one that called her Charlotte, and he'd kissed her hand when he'd met her, like one of the heroes out of her books.

It had started raining, so Bass had gone home after only one glass of whiskey with her uncle. She smiled at the thought. That was one thing that had never changed, Uncle Miles still loved to drink that stuff; Charlie hadn't known what caused the distinctive scent when she was little, but she'd recognize it anywhere now.

The storm grew worse and Charlie had come to sit with Miles in his office, wanting his company. He read over reports and she read from her book of short stories.

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes. He took care of her. She had a nice place to live, enough to eat, and Bass and Uncle Miles were teaching her how to protect herself. Charlie frowned thoughtfully. Her uncle never seemed to mind that she was so quiet with him, he'd never held it against her, and he always made an effort to talk to her, even when she could tell he was uncomfortable doing so.

And he gave her books and made sure she got to go to the library as often as she liked.

He'd asked her once to trust him and Charlie realized she did. Completely.

During a lull in the weather, she got up from the chair and walked to his side. Curiosity lit his eyes as Miles set his correspondence aside and glanced up at her. They looked at each other for awhile, not speaking, their silences no longer uncomfortable.

Charlie had bit her lip, unsure of how to start. Finally, "I remember you."

"Yeah?" He asked, the surprise in his voice quite apparent.

She nodded.

"What do you remember?"

She shrugged, eyes wandering around his office, taking in the changes she'd wrought on the room: her sweater over the back of a chair, her books piled here-and-there on tables, and treats for Buddy in a little dish. Her mouth twisted, before she felt it tug upwards, quite against her will.

"You always made me feel safe," Charlie finally responded, stopping for a few seconds. "You still do," she assured.

There would be more details at a different time. She'd tell him about that trip in his car, the visit to the zoo, the baseball game, and presents another time.

"I trust you, Uncle Miles."

She saw him swallow hard, his adam's apple moving visibly beneath his skin. Then his face split in one of those smiles she remembered from before the lights turned off, and he opened his arms. When she'd shuffled forward hesitantly, he gently folded her into a hug.

I'm not a huge fan of all the page breaks, but until I can figure something else out, it's the only way to make it work with the scene-jumps.

Comments are wonderful...I'm addicted to them and I love hearing from you!