This has been in my head since the cancellation. What I would have really wanted after Revolution got cancelled. A spinoff with Charlie and Bass fighting the bad guys. This is very slow burn Charloe because I want it to be realistic. The good news is they are together almost all the time. Just no smoochies yet. But there will be a lot of eyef**ks and snarky banter like at the beginning of S2. And a lot of BIG conversations between the two. I really needed to do this considering how I suspect the comic book is going to turn out.
Please leave a review if you have a chance.
I don't own Revolution, but maybe they should have given it to some of the fans. We'd probably take better care of it.
"So, did you get your vengeance on the Patriots?"
Bass stopped, strolling over to Charlie as she sat in front of a tent cleaning her gun. "A little. Lots more of these sons of bitches to go through until we're even."
She cocked an eyebrow. "It's a start."
"True." He glanced over his shoulder. "You see Miles around anywhere?"
Charlie smiled. "Just left. I, uh, think he may be talking to my mom."
She saw the moment the light bulb went off in his head. He chuckled. "Yeah, why am I not surprised. You good with that?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but, yeah, I am."
He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, not trying to pick a fight. Just asking. They deserve each other."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Few people had the ability to piss her off as much or as quickly as Monroe.
"Nothing, Charlie, it doesn't mean anything. Holy hell. Stop being so sensitive." He turned to walk away when she stopped him.
"Monroe." He looked back at her. Her face was stern, and he could tell she was struggling to voice her thoughts. "Back there...with the president. Thank you."
He stood still for a moment, then stepped closer, cupping a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry. Did you just say thank you?"
"Don't be an ass." She sighed.
"No, I just want to make sure I heard you correctly." He was being an ass, but he couldn't resist. Charlie was so easy to rile up.
"Fine. I said thank you. I didn't think you were going to come through, but you did." She lowered her head. "I won't forget that you helped us out."
He nodded. "Well, look at that. I've been thanked by two Matheson women in the last 24 hours. And the world didn't actually end."
She shook her head, a reluctant smirk on her face. He took two steps away from her when Miles's shriek echoed throughout the camp.
They both took off running, racing past tents until they reached her mother's. Miles was shouting her grandfather's name as they entered. She took one look at the scene before her and fell to her knees beside a bleeding Rachel.
"Mom...Mom..." With shaking hands, she reached for her mother. "What happened?"
"I don't know." Miles held her mother's head in his lap, his hand bright red as it covered her abdomen. He looked up to Monroe standing just inside the door. "Bass, get Gene. Go!"
Monroe was out the door before the word completely left her uncle's mouth. He was back in a matter of moments with Gene in tow.
"I heard you calling." Gene crouched by his daughter, moving Miles's hand away to get a look at the wound.
"Grandpa, is she going to be OK?" The panic in Charlie's voice was palpable. "Is she?"
"I'll have to see, Charlie."
Gene glanced up at Miles, who looked to his best friend. "Bass, get her out of here."
"No, I want to stay." Monroe reached for her, pulling her up by the sleeves of her jacket; she squirmed against him, trying to get away. "I want to stay."
"Charlie, come on," Bass said, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "Let them work on her."
As he led her out, she yanked away from him, stomping a few yards from the tent. He knew she was pissed and wasn't sure whether to say anything or just leave it be.
"Do you think she...do you think she's going to be OK?"
He couldn't remember ever hearing Charlie's voice so uncertain. And he was no good at the sensitive stuff. Clearing his throat, he stepped closer to her. "You're mother is one of the strongest women I've ever met. She's not done riding my ass into the dirt yet, Charlie, so yeah, I think she's going to make it."
He got nothing but a nod. No rolling of the eyes or tiny little sarcastic smirk she liked to throw at him. He understood that despite the fact that Rachel got on her daughter's nerves, she was still her mother. Charlie was worried out of her mind.
She plopped on the ground beside Rachel's tent, a solemn look on her face. He could imagine the things running through her head; if anyone understood losing loved ones, it was him. As much as Rachel bugged the shit out of him, he hoped for both Miles and Charlie's sake that she was alright. Instead of wandering off on his own, he sat beside her, close but not too close, a comfortable silence settling over them.
A little over 30 minutes later, Gene emerged from the tent, wiping blood off his hands. Charlie was up in a flash, Bass following right behind her. "Grandpa?"
Gene gave her a little smile. "Your mom's going to be fine, Charlie. Whoever did this stabbed her in exactly the right spot. No major organs were hit. I stitched her up, and she's resting with Miles."
"Can I see her?"
"Of course."
Without a second glance in Monroe's direction, she hurried into the tent. He nodded at Gene, then turned and headed to his tent. It had been an eventful 24 hours, and all he really wanted to do now was sleep.
"So what am I doing here, Frank?" Bass asked. Less than a week had passed since Texas discovered the full truth of the Patriots. Less than a week since they'd kidnapped the President. Less than a week since he'd lost his son. He'd gone back for him, but both Connor and Neville had escaped from the shack.
Sitting behind a big desk in some field ready makeshift office, the brim of his cowboy hat passing through his fingers, Blanchard stared at him for a few moments. The big guy was nervous, and it was starting to freak Bass the hell right out. "I've got what ya might call a proposition for you, Monroe."
Bass rolled his eyes. "I don't even like the way that sounds."
"You gonna give me a chance to explain it or you just gonna bitch and moan?"
He sighed, motioning with his hand. "Give it to me."
"We got these Patriots on the run, it's true. Some are going to be easy to handle, quick and painless. But there's more of these sons of bitches than we thought. And they are proving to be ridiculously loyal." Frank stood and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Bass before returning to his spot behind the desk.
"Well, they brainwashed the kids." Bass took a large gulp of his drink. "I have no idea what the hell they did to the adults to get them to comply."
"What I'm saying is we don't want a repeat of what happened earlier this week to keep happening." At Bass's blank look, he explained further. "With Rachel Matheson."
"Ah."
"The official report is that someone snuck into her tent and stabbed her. Gave her a little something from Davis. Meanwhile, someone else helped him escape. We never even found Truman. Now we can't have these bastards finding their way back to being in charge."
Bass was in full agreement there. "What's the plan?"
"We need some people out there tracking down and bringing in some of these Patriots that are getting away or are holed up somewhere else. Whether it be here in Texas, or out in the Plains, maybe even in the Wasteland." Blanchard raised an eyebrow at him.
"Bounty hunters."
"Something sort of like that. We're getting together some...specialty teams."
"What, like Black Ops? Why not just have the Rangers do it?"
"Well, Rangers have a code. And right now we're less worried about the dead or alive thing." Blanchard gulped down the rest of his whiskey, smacking the glass down on his desk. "Never know what's going to happen out there. These teams will have full discretion to do what they need to take down the enemy."
Blanchard stopped and stared at Bass again. Understanding exactly what was being laid on the table here, Bass chuckled. "What, you're saying you want me?"
"It's a good job, Monroe. You'd be well compensated by the state of Texas. And these jobs would take you out of here for a few days, then bring you back. You could have a decent house here, around the people you know."
Bass shook his head. "I've got my own plans."
"Planning to get the Republic back. That's horseshit and you know it." Blanchard leaned back, the chair creaking with his full weight. "If we start dividing and conquering again, those khaki bastards are going to come right back at us. Now we wipe them out, maybe we can gather up those leftover troops of yours and Foster's. And maybe we can really get back the U.S. of A. The real one."
Bass glanced away, running his hands through his hair. It made sense. This was exactly what he'd been preaching to Connor, to Miles. He'd wanted the Republic back so it could be better. At least he'd convinced himself that's what he wanted. But working with Miles again, doing the "right" thing, it sort of felt...good. It felt like old times.
But his son was also out there, all alone with Neville. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that Connor could handle himself far better than he'd ever let on. He had no idea where they were, and he was half sure Connor would just shoot him on sight the next time they came face to face.
So what did he really have? A kid that no longer trusted him or wanting anything to do with him. Or a Republic that had turned on him before those bombs had ever even dropped. Maybe he should just keep his ass put, in the place that the only remnants of his family lived. "These are two man teams?"
Blanchard nodded. "We've been putting ex-Rangers together, a couple former bounty hunters. But you say yes, you get to pick your man. Anyone you want for a partner is yours."
"Miles."
"Except him." Bass raised an eyebrow and stood, prepared to leave without another word. "Monroe, sit back down."
"You said anyone."
"And I would give you Miles. Hell, I'd be happy as a clam having Matheson and Monroe teamed back up together. It would scare the shit out some of those bastards." Blanchard sighed. "But Miles doesn't want it."
Bass dropped back into his chair. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I offered the job to Miles. Figured he'd want you and then I wouldn't be here trying to convince your sorry ass to join up. He flat-out turned me down." Blanchard propped his chin against his hand. "He said he wants to try to make a life in Willoughby."
Bass swallowed, eyes narrowing. "He what-he said he wants to do what?"
"I guess seeing his woman laying on the ground bleeding made him realize what he might lose. So he's sticking close to her."
"Of course he is." And if that didn't just piss his shit the hell right off. Once again, Rachel won, neutering his best friend like a damn puppy.
"He's still going to be working for me. Helping these new teams out if necessary, trying to track down some locations where we might find Patriot strongholds. And, uh, he'll be in charge of law enforcement down in Willoughby."
"He's going to be the town sheriff?" Bass let out a huge laugh. No way was he leaving Texas now. The insult capabilities were much too high. He was never going to let Miles live it down.
"Alright, alright. You can peel the tar out of your buddy later. Now, I can't deliver you Miles, but if there's anyone else you want, they're yours."
Bass crossed to the liquor cabinet, poured himself another drink, and swallowed it down in one gulp. "Charlie."
"Okay. Charlie who?"
"Matheson. Charlie Matheson." He sat back down, eyes locked on Blanchard. "She's who I want, Frank."
"Miles's niece?"
"That's right."
Blanchard's face darkened as he eyed Bass. "Is this some sort of revenge against Miles for not wanting to do this?"
"No." And quite frankly, he was a little insulted on Charlie's behalf that anyone would suggest that. "The girl's a damn good fighter. She's not afraid to do what it takes. And she's enough like her uncle that we work well together."
"We were teaming up men."
"She's as good as any man."
"And there might be a safety issue. Some of the places you have to go may be rough for a woman."
"Charlie can handle rough. I've seen her take out five men at a time. She's not some girl you need to sugar coat things for. And I'll be there." Frank still didn't seem convinced. "Look, some of this may require a little undercover work. A man and a woman can sometimes get things done better and with less suspicion. She's my partner, Frank. Or I'm out."
"Well, I can't force her."
"Yeah, let me worry about that part."
"Alright, Monroe, if she says yes and you think she's ready for this...works for me." They stared at each other for a minute. "Anything else?"
"Get her down here."
"Now?" Blanchard's eyes widened.
"Yes, now." Seriously, the entire next few months of his life were on hold here and Frank wanted to wait?
The old man sighed, standing and walking out of his makeshift office. He returned about fifteen minutes later, Charlie right behind him.
Her eyes widened when she saw Monroe. Settling carefully into the seat beside him, she focused on Blanchard. "OK...what the hell is this all about?"
"Ms. Matheson, I have a job offer for you. If you're at all interested in taking it." She said nothing, just stared at Blanchard until he continued. "It's probably not going to be enough to just sweep up the Patriots and be done with it. We're going to have to put a little more effort into it."
She glanced at Monroe once more. "Alright, stop beating around the bush. What is this all about and what does this idiot have to do with anything?"
Blanchard looked at Bass, who shrugged as if to say 'I told you so'. "So much for kid gloves. Looks like Monroe was right about you. You're not the kind of woman who needs to be handled with care."
"Got a problem with that?" Subconsciously, her hand rested on the hilt of her knife.
"Me, not at all. I've got myself one hell of a female general out there already." Most of the camp knew of General Donegan. It was more than Charlie could say for Monroe; his republic hadn't had any female officers that she was aware of.
"Just say what you gotta."
"We're putting together teams. To track down and hunt any last sign of Patriots wherever we might find them," Blanchard explained. "We'd like you to be a part of that. Would that be something you'd be interested in?"
She thought of her mom and the scar that would forever mar her skin where that Patriot bastard had slipped the knife in. "Might be. But why is he here?"
Blanchard's eyes skipped to Bass for a second before meeting hers again. "These teams will be specialized teams of two-"
"Oh, no...no, no, no...with him." She stood. "You think I'm going to team up with him? You're insane."
"Charlie-" Bass interrupted.
She didn't even acknowledge him. "Why would you ever think of putting me with him?"
"I didn't. He did."
Charlie turned to Bass, staring at him as if he'd grown a third head. "What in our history together makes you think I'd want to work with you?"
"I don't know. How about the fact that we seem to fight well together, that we make a pretty good team."
"I hate you."
"I'm well aware." Bass leaned back his seat. Getting under her skin was almost as much fun as getting under Miles's. "And yet, we've been able to put that aside to get the job done before."
She glared down at him. "What's in it for you? I thought you wanted your Republic back."
He looked away, his mind on Connor. "Things have changed."
"And they always do with you, Monroe." She looked back to Blanchard. "Look, it sounds like a great offer, and maybe if you wanted to partner me with someone else...but I just don't think this is going to work."
She turned to go, stopping at Bass's loud outburst. "Charlotte...damn it. Frank, can I have a moment here?"
Blanchard was up and out the door faster than Bass had ever seen the man move. "Charlie, listen to me. A lot of the fighting in towns like Austin and Willoughby is done. They'll clear the Patriots out and life will go back to normal. So this is it. This is how life will be from now on."
"What's your point?" she asked, spinning back to him.
"Is this really what you want?" He stood, walking closer. "Small town life in Willoughby."
"I'm going to be here with my family."
"Yeah, your mom and Miles, working it out. It'll be fun to be around the two of them. Your grandpa, taking in patients and sitting out on the porch having a drink at the end of the night. And you're going to do what? Get some nine to five job waiting tables down at the bar?" He stepped even closer; he could tell he was getting to her. "Get up for work in the morning, come home at night, bake cookies with your mom. Maybe at some point, you'll meet some nice little farm boy, pop out a few kids, and this is your life..."
"Miles..."
"Miles is going to be the town sheriff. So yeah, your whole family is here. Might as well hang it all up and stay here with them. I don't imagine Aaron will be going anywhere either, so you've got a full set. Sounds great...sounds idyllic." He was really close now; he lowered his head to catch her eyes. "But is that what you want, Charlie?"
"I..."
"Charlie, I have done things to you that I can never make up for. Not ever. I know that. But in some ways, we're a lot alike."
She sneered. "I'm nothing like you."
"Well, you've got a strong moral compass and a good heart. And I-I don't have those things...not anymore." As she glanced up at him, he caught the question in her eyes. That was not something he wanted to get into right now. "But we both like the fight, Charlie. The adventure. We'd both get bored off of our asses sitting in Willoughby for the rest of our lives. Actually, I'm not sure how Miles is going to fight that. He's got that same wanderlust that we do. But he loves your mom, so I guess he's going to try. And hey, good for them...whatever."
"Can you not be so sarcastic when you say that?"
"No, I don't think so." She rolled her eyes. There would never be any love lost between him and Rachel Matheson. "Look, I'm asking you for a chance here, a truce. Maybe we can work together and just get rid of the rest of these Patriots. For the past year, we've been working on the same side as it is. And we didn't make too bad a team on the way to Willoughby in the first place, right?"
"I don't know..."
"You fight enough like Miles to make it easy for me. I fight enough like him to make it easy for you. It's a good match, Charlie, and you know it."
"It is...until the next time you decide you want your republic back or you want power or you want to side with the bad guys again." She cut his protests off before they even started. "Monroe, in the past two weeks, you turned on us and tried to steal our train."
He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I know...but I won't do that to you."
"You will."
"No, I won't. Miles knows that I am loyal to my family. You're a Matheson, Charlie, that means you're already a part of that. When Miles asked me to do the right thing, I did. I came through with the president. I know I walked away once, but I came back." She sighed, and he knew both of their thoughts were in that hallway in that school. "I won't let you down. I won't betray my partner. Not ever."
"Monroe..."
"I won't do that to you. I will not leave you alone out there. Some of the places we might have to go to could be rough. I won't leave you." He could see her processing the information in her brain. "Think it over. I don't need an answer right now."
She stared at him for a few minutes before walking out the door without a word.
Five hours later, the flap to his tent opened and Charlie stepped through. "Alright, I'm in."
"I'll let Blanchard know."
She nodded and stepped back out, the flap falling into place as she left. Partners...
