My first piece for the Armada is a dedication to brothers. Two brothers and two characters I love so very much. Miles and Bass. I picked this piece as my first one because I really loved the opportunity to write them here.

Brothers

A dedication to brothers.

We made a promise we swore we'd always remember
No retreat no surrender
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend
No retreat no surrender

Now young faces grow sad and old and hearts of fire grow cold
We swore blood brothers against the wind
I'm ready to grow young again
And hear your sister's voice calling us home across the open yards
Well maybe we could cut someplace of our own
With these drums and these guitars

Blood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defend
No retreat no surrender

Bruce Springsteen, No surrender

It was cold as hell. Miles could barely feel his damn feet. The forest around them heavy with the late autumn cold and filled with the past, the love and the demons through time they had build from that love between two brothers. Two brothers raised in the small town they called home.

Miles watched as Bass was staring into the small fire in the shadows of the small shed they were currently spending the cold autumn night in. His shoulders were arching low. His look miles away from their spot to spend the night. His jaw sharp, tension running through. It reminded him with dull ache through his chest, of the day he had found Bass in front of four graves in Jasper. He had almost lost Bass that day.

He felt like he was slipping away again with every day they were on the road again now. The idea made him feel like a complete idiot, because that meant he had to have Bass at his side again. On some days it felt like that, one some days they were so far away from what they had been that even half a bottle of whiskey could not dull that pain.

Summer was over. The war was won. A war they had both fought in again. As Generals. But with every fight, with every battle behind and still ahead of them, it had pumped through their veins. Their mutual shared blood of being brothers.

After the war they had returned to Willoughby. For the last hours on the road, Miles had walked next to Charlie who had walked silently in between both him and Bass. Waling in shared silence for those last miles before Willoughby. She seemed to be the only one to understand him. To understand Bass. Her willingness to look at everything from more sides then her own, burned like a bright fire between both men. A sharp distinction from the crap he got from Rachel.

Miles had looked at her, at Rachel. That day in Willoughby in the late afternoon when Bass had started to grab his shit. And then Miles had looked his brother. Harsh lines in his face and a body filled with aching for his son. For needing to get out of this small town life. To walk, to think, to drink.

A couple of hours later Bass had told him he was going to look for Connor. He had told Bass he was coming. Rachel had watched both men from her spot near the kitchen counter at Gene's place, her eyes on them from a distance with blue icy disapproval. Miles had packed his crap anyway.

Charlie had given Bass a short nod of understanding right before he had walked out of the kitchen. Standing still, looking at her. Miles had watched Bass nod back to Charlie, his eyes so much softer when it she was there. Miles understood. Charlie had done the same for him, bringing back some of the man he thought was dead. Then she had looked at him.

'Miles, let me come with you guys..'

'Not this time kid...' Miles had watched her blue eyes fill with stubborn protest, aimed at him while she had looked quickly from him to Bass and back at him again.

His own heart filled with guilt and darkness for the what ifs in his life. What if he had not hidden Connor from Bass, what if things had been fucking different. He had swallowed.

'Let me do this for him Charlie.' He had felt tears crash into his eyes. He watched Charlie raise her eyebrow, her eyes thoughtful at his sudden openness.

'Take care of the both of you all right?' Her voice had been low and almost sad. He had pulled her close, feeling and smelling her hair, her smaller body in his large arms, where he had wished he could have kept her.

Rachel had not wanted to talk to him anymore after he had decided to follow Bass. Miles had tried to say goodbye but she had crossed her arms before her chest. Miles had looked at Charlie before he had walked out of the kitchen door, Bass waiting before the porch outside.

And now, days on the road had moved their asses into autumn and far from home. A trail of whispers where Connor could be leading them. It had been another long day on the road. More cold meeting their faces in the afternoon. They had not been able to find any kind of shelter but this small shed, hidden from any unwanted eyes in a dense part of the forest, shielding them from some of the biting wind.

Tonight, it was late autumn night. Two brothers, two sleeping bags and one fire. Miles sighed as he pushed himself away from the wall he had been sitting against. He walked over to Bass with his hand on the hilt of his sword, reaching out his arm to share his whiskey.

'No.' Bass nodded, his voice tired.

'Come on Bass, since when do you say no to some whiskey?' Miles tried to ease the heavy darkness between and within them.

Bass was on his feet in two seconds.

'My kid is out there with Neville.' Bass's voice laced a hurt danger that Miles knew so well. 'With Tom fucking Neville, Miles. And I am not sitting here, having some kind of drinking party with you while he is still out there, alone.'

Miles heard his own name rolling through the cold air between the four walls of the shed. The words unsaid but within Bass' eyes rolling through the air too.

Because of you.

'I do not need a drink...I do not want to sit here wasting fucking time when all I want is to get to him.' Bass felt emotions spin out of control, old rage. New rage.

His eyes shooting blue rage into brown eyes before him.

'Come on..' Miles spat at him, like a challenge before a fight. Almost craving Bass to hurt him, punch him, beat him. It was easier than feeling like fucking hell for the hurt in his brothers voice. Another round between two men. ' Say it Bass...'

'You want me to say it?' Bass voice were rough, his eyes dark as he stood before Miles. 'All right...' Bass' eyes were filled with everything that was left unsaid in steel blue, the flames dancing in his almost dark eyes. ' My kid is fucking out there because of you Miles. Because of you and Emma...' Bass had to swallow, mentioning her was still almost killing him. Miles felt the surprise hit him, surprise at the anger aimed not at only him, but also at Emma this time.

'...the both of you making plans behind my back huh? Some stupid plan to keep my own child away from me. How could you do that huh?'

He shoved Miles in his chest with two hard fists.

Miles did not move. Stunned, his mind screaming to tell Bass he did not know Emma kept Connor from him, long before the Republic and the blackout were even there. Long before Bass changed for good. Miles never understood Emma's actions. He only knew that when Bass was of the rails, he had to help her when she wrote to him.

'You never thought one fucking second how much he could mean to me?' He was spitting tears now. 'Having to watch you with Charlie every damn day, seeing what she means to you and how you are so fucking different because of her and you...you denied me that Miles. You kept him from me...'

Miles felt the truth through his bones. He had kept Bass from Connor. Denied him of what Charlie did for himself.

And now Bass mentioned and how much Charlie meant for him as she had pulled him out of drinking himself to death he fucking got it. What could have happened too. What could have been if Rach had brought Charlie with her to Philly. What happened if he had told Emma he would not keep Connor away from Bass.

Miles was crying before he could help himself. His body frozen to the ground. His love for Charlie and what she means to him never a secret for Bass' eyes.

The time he stole from Bass and the young teenager with dark big eyes and dark curls so much like Bass. He remembers him, standing in the doorway of Emma's house the day he had returned to Jasper. And then, Miles was not able to take it anymore. Hurt and guilt and frustration and too much pressure on his heart result in one angry scream.

'I am sorry...' Miles yelled at Bass. His voice booming trough the shed.

Bass' eyes went wide in shock.

'I'm sorry all right Bass...' Miles was still yelling, so hard spit moved out of his mouth with his tears.

So much raw pain in that yell and in his eyes Bass could only stand still in front of him. Time passed. Both men were looking at the other, both in tears and in agony as finally something broke free between them.

Miles whipped his treacherous tears with guilt and hurt finally breaking free from his nose with the back of his hand and the sleeve of his jacket. Bass could only breathe. One long pained freeing breathe escaped his chest. Finally. Finally he felt he saw something of his brother again. Of Miles. Of the man he never stopped loving.

Bass felt something dark break in his heart, lifting high. He was not able to breathe. He had to sit down. Both men looking at the other for one more moment, knowing they had made it through time.

Bass moved back to his place to the fire. Miles crashed on his bedroll with the flask of whiskey trembling in his hand. The look in Bass' eyes and how much it meant to him what he had just said raging through his body.

Both men knew the other was there. But something had just happened that was so wide and new and necessary, it was too much to take in all at once.

Bass felt the cold of the night creep in with every hour he sat at the fire, knowing his damn bedroll was next to Miles. Thinking of who they once were. Jasper. Home. His parents, sisters. Miles' mom. Miles' old man. Connor. Emma. And hell, he wanted move over to him, not knowing how.

Miles could not take it anymore. He watched Bass, the moron was probably just as fucking cold as he was right now.

'Just get in the damn sleeping bag before we freeze to death, Bass.' Miles shouted with frustration. This moron was going to get himself killed this way.

Bass did not respond.

'You moron, you want to get yourself killed? Death by hypothermia, really?' Sarcasm flooded through his words. 'Because that sounds like a lot of fun?' Miles grumbled.

Bass knew this was Miles' idea of caring about the other. Shout at them, being an asshole. He clenched his fist. And then, he slowly got up from the fire cursing something that sounded close to dammit.

Bass walked over to him slowly, not being able to look at Miles. He moved into his bedroll, his back towards Miles. Their legs touching, his back touching Miles' side.

Miles felt the familiar contours of Bass next to him. Miles just a bit taller, but both men side to side near the fire.

The sky was clear above the shed, the cold biting. The fire burning slowly while the autumn air from the forest streamed in. There were stars high above their head.

Miles remembered one night of their second tour. They days had been long and terrifying, home far away. Two brothers all they had there, out there in a country so far from home it felt like home could very well not exists anymore.

It had been his sister's birthday. They had been through a day from hell. Miles had heard and felt him cry, next to him in a dark tent. He had moved closer to Bass and had moved one of his large arms around his chest and shoulder, Bass on his side next to him. Just for one minute there in the dark. An embrace between two brothers. Comfort. Home. Brotherhood.

For no one else to see, only for them to feel.

Brother to brother.

Miles felt Bass' tears again as they lay together, body to body, trying to get through another night. After an apology that finally broke free. He remembered a promise. That one promise that Bass been referring to over and over again with his mad rage since the day and every day that followed after Miles had betrayed him and left him. The promise he had not forgotten. The promise Bass had mentioned when they had both been fighting on a field outside the Tower.

A promise forged at a cemetery in Jasper. You still have me Bass. You and me.

Miles had never told Charlie. He had never told Rachel. But somehow Charlie seemed to understand. Understand what was between Bass and him that could not be erased. She was there the night Miles believed his brother had been executed. There to catch his hand. Hold on to him. her hands wrapped around his, her warm slender hand on his shoulders. And he heard himself, almost saw himself back there that night in Jasper, sitting next to Bass.

You still have me Bass.

You and me.

He remembered the promise, far from their home, far from who they were. Under his bedroll he moved one arm slowly over to Bass. He moved it into Bass' bedroll and felt the contours of his brother under his arm. He felt Bass breathing. His arm wide and now again over Bass' side, Miles hand landing on his chest. Tears into his own eyes.

He had broken that promise. But here, under this dark night sky above them, with the same stars that had been there longer than them, he wanted to mend it. To reach out. To his little brother.

He felt Bass' sharp intake of breath as his fingers connected with his chest, his fingers burning through the black leather of his jacket.

Bass felt the tears stream over his damn face. The cold biting and touching the salty wetness on his cheeks. He felt the heaviness of loosing every fucking thing he could have lost in his life. His home, his family, his wife, his kid, Miles, who he was. Connor. Fuck. Connor. His heart aching to find that last piece of him out there.

But Miles. God. Fuck. Miles. Here again. Under a different sky, across the world. And he remembered. Remembered Miles' body close that night in that tent in that desert, missing his family and home and his little sisters' birthday so much he had not been able to breathe.

He felt the weight of Miles' arm grounding him as Miles body was behind him. He did not move. He just felt him. They lay there, near a fire, knowing they would not stop until they would find Connor and bring him back home. This time together.

The night sky filled with stars.

One fire.

Bass breathing under Miles' hand.

Miles feeling Bass' chest with every breath.

Bass.

Miles.

Brothers.

Author's Note This piece was for the prompt #48 'Just get in the damn sleeping bag before we freeze' and was about brotherhood, love and forgiveness. Thank you so much reading. I really love these two brothers and all their layers so very much, that is why it was my opening piece for the Armada. Tomorrow I will post another, maybe I will see you there? Love from Love