Author's Note this has just been floating around in my head for a while, and I'm finally going to get it out. I don't own any part of Revolution.

Charlie's Secret

The war with the Patriots has been over for nearly two months, though a few groups still lingered here and there. The Mathesons, along with Monroe, Connor, and Gene, had settled in Willoughby, trying to form some sort of normal Blackout life. Charlie was staying with her mom, Miles, and Gene while Monroe moved into the house across the street. Connor had decided that he didn't want to stay in the same house as his dad, instead staying in the house next door so he wouldn't be too far.

For the fourth time that week, Charlie woke up and barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. She heaved until her stomach and throat burned and there was a rancid taste in her mouth. She wearily pressed her forehead against the countertop with a sigh, only to jerk up, startled, by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her.

"Charlie?" Gene looked down at his granddaughter, who was still leaning against the counter, beads of sweat visible from her recent purging. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Charlie looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Grandpa, no, I think I'll be fine." Her eyes darted around, betraying her nervousness.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Because this isn't the first time you've thrown up, then felt fine for the rest of the day, and you've been sleeping an awful lot."

He watched as her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. "Do you really think that's what it is?" she nearly whispered, almost sheepishly.

Gene heaved a sigh and nodded. "From what I'm seeing, it looks like the early stages of pregnancy."

Charlie made a barely audible whimpering noise. "That's what I thought."

They stood there for a moment in silence before Gene finally said, "Who's the father?"

"A friend." She looked him directly in the eye, unyielding, even as he raised his eyebrows, waiting for a name.

Gene rolled his eyes as it became apparent she wasn't going to say more. "Fine. What are you going to tell Miles and your mom when they get back?"

Charlie slid to the ground, closing her eyes with a groan. Miles and Rachel had been gone for nearly two weeks on a trip to Austin with Bass, and they weren't due back for another few days.

"I don't know," she murmured. She suddenly trained her fiery blue eyes on him. "I want to be the one to tell them."

"Charlie," he immediately protested, "they need to know."

"Grandpa, please," Charlie implored. Then she paused, and smirked triumphantly. "What about that whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing? You can't tell them if I don't want you to."

Gene scowled at her, realizing she had him beat. "Alright, but you have to take care of yourself, and we'll have check-ups every week."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Every week, for the next nine months?"

"Yes ma'am." If she wanted to play the whole Pre-Blackout doctor rules game on him, he wasn't about to just let her get away with it.

He smiled at her frustrated noise before turning and calling over his shoulder, "Come down to eat. You need to eat well and stay hydrated."

Later that evening, Charlie was sitting at the bar with Connor for dinner. They had become friends over the last few months, and made it a habit to have dinner together at least once a week.

"Hey, Charlie," Connor called over with a grin as she walked in, and held up a bottle of whiskey.

She smiled back at him, suddenly nervous. She had completely forgotten about her inability to drink, and hadn't come up with an excuse for when people wondered why she wasn't drinking anything.

"I think I'll just stick with water tonight," she said as he made a move to pour her a glass.

Connor's eyebrows shot up under his unruly curls as he set the bottle down. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Charlie Matheson?"

She gave a small laugh at that but didn't say anything.

He frowned slightly. "What's up?"

"It's nothing," she lied, shaking her head. "I just haven't been feeling all that great the past few days, and my grandpa said I should stick with water for a few days."

"Well as long as you don't get me sick," he replied with a smirk and slight shrug. "That wouldn't help my game at all."

Charlie threw back her head and laughed at that. "God forbid that ever happens," she said, still chuckling.

They spent the rest of the night laughing and talking about their weeks as Charlie sipped her water, the small issue forgotten.

Miles, Rachel, and Bass came home three days later and immediately called for Connor and Charlie to join them in the Matheson's living room.

"So," Miles began, "Blanchard's deciding that he needs the rest of the Patriots mopped up." He pulled a folded map out from his pocket and tossed it to Charlie, who unfolded it to see a map of Texas with red dots on it. She surveyed it for a moment before handing it to Connor, looking back up at Miles.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say that he wants us to take care of them," Charlie deadpanned.

"Bingo," Bass said, smirking. "Blanchard gave me and Miles twenty guys, and we get to choose our captains." He gestured to Connor and Charlie. "You two."

Connor grinned up at his dad and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Charlie standing suddenly. "Sounds great, but I think I'm going to get some rest. It's been a long day." She glanced at her grandfather before turning and going upstairs.

Bass, Miles, and Rachel all frowned at her unusual behavior. "What's going on with Charlie?" Rachel asked, looking at her dad.

"She said the other day that she hadn't been feeling to great," Connor interjected with a shrug. "Probably still recovering."

Rachel looked to her father for confirmation, and Gene nodded quickly. "Nothing too serious," he reassured. "I just don't want her to mess up her stomach again."

Rachel seemed to be placated for the moment, but Bass and Miles looked unconvinced. They glanced at each other, having one of their silent conversations before Bass let out a small sigh and nod, accepting the fact that Miles would probably have a better chance at talking to Charlie alone.

Miles quietly moved up the stairs while Bass distracted Rachel, Connor, and Gene. He approached Charlie's door cautiously, not sure what to do. He had known Charlie for over two years now, and had lived with her in close spaces for almost the entirety of that time, and she had never once gotten sick. Hell, he'd seen that girl down bottles of whiskey without a problem. "Sick" and "Charlie" just didn't go together.

"Charlie?" He waited, but after a moment with no response he softly pushed the door open to see Charlie curled up on her bed with her back towards him. He studied her for a moment, his concern growing.

"Charlie," he repeated, firmer this time. "I know you're faking it."

He waited another moment before Charlie turned to face him, and he was surprised at the weariness he saw in her eyes.

"Hey, kid," he whispered, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "What's up with you."

She studied him for a moment before saying, "I just haven't been to well lately, Miles."

He frowned at the half-truth, knowing she was leaving something out, which wasn't like her at all.

"Why lie to me, Charlie?" he asked. "You and I both know that I can read you better than anyone else."

She sighed and rested her forehead against the outside of his thigh, finding comfort in the mixture of smells of whiskey, sweat, and the outdoors that was so Miles.

When she didn't respond, he knew pressing her for more answers wasn't going to do any good. She was without a doubt the most stubborn creature to ever grace this planet, and would always be.

He scowled in defeat, but leaned down and pressed his lips against her temple before murmuring, "Get some rest, kid."

He barely heard her soft, "Night, Miles," as he walked out, closing the door behind him.

He went downstairs to see Bass sitting on the couch alone with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey in front of him.

"Gene and Rachel went out, something about getting more supplies," Bass said, answering Miles's unasked question. "And Connor went to the bar, trying to find some girl."

Miles snorted as he sat next to his brother. "He is just like you when you were that age."

Bass rolled his eyes as he handed Miles a glass, but didn't say anything. Finally, he said, "How is she?"

Miles let out a huff, but Bass could easily see the worry lining his best friend's face. "I don't know. She doesn't seem sick, just…tired. And different." He shook his head and downed his glass, holding it out for Bass to refill. "I just hope she isn't going through what we did, Bass."

Bass's eyes darkened as he remembered how they had been after they came home from war, suddenly unable to find things funny in everyday life, struggling to forget their dead. He shuddered and drank quickly, catching himself silently praying that Charlie, their beacon of light and moral compass, wasn't going through that now.

"Well, in a few days, she won't be out of our sight. We'll make sure nothing happens to her." Miles looked up, meeting Bass's intense blue eyes as he continued. "We'll make sure she doesn't turn out like we did."

"I just don't know how to stop it," Miles whispered, feeling his shoulders slump in defeat while, at the same time he felt lighter for having shared this with Bass, the hopelessness he felt when he knew his niece needed him, but had no idea how to help her.

"I don't know either, brother," Bass replied, just as quiet.

The two men sat in silence, whiskey in hand as they were consumed by thoughts of a time so long ago, when things had been simpler, with their little blonde, blue eyed princess in the backyard of the Matheson home.

The next few days passed, and both Miles and Bass had seen little of Charlie as they got to know their men.

It was the night before they were supposed to leave, and Miles, Bass, Connor, and their men were out at the bar, celebrating. Charlie was supposed to be there too, but she had yet to make an appearance.

Miles was in the middle of telling a story to Connor about him and Bass in the Marines, when he felt Bass jab him sharply in the ribs with his elbow.

"Bass, what the hell," he complained. He glanced at him, realizing he wasn't looking at him and quickly following his gaze to see what had caught his attention.

"Charlie," he murmured, watching her cross the room. He frowned as he watched her make her way across the bar, moving as gracefully as always but now without her usual air of confidence. Her head was down, and her shoulders had a slight slump to them that Miles found worrying.

He looked at Bass as she drew near and could tell that Bass had noticed, too, judging by how tight he was clenching his jaw.

"Miles," Charlie greeted him quietly, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes as she drew close. She glanced at the Monroe men briefly before focusing back in on her uncle. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," he replied, confused. "Shoot."

Charlie looked around warily. "Not here. How about we go outside?"

Miles glanced over, noticing Bass's deep frown. Something wasn't right, and they both knew it.

"Alright, kid," he grumbled in agreement.

They strolled outside, stopping a few feet away from the bar when Charlie turned to face him.

"I can't go."

"What?" Miles stared at her for a moment, perplexed.

"I can't come with you on the mission." Charlie looked down again, unable to meet his eyes as she nervously twisted her fingers together.

"Why the hell not, Charlie?" He felt his concern growing, now interlaced with a slight fear. Maybe she's doing worse than they had realized, Miles thought, on the verge of a panic.

"I haven't been doing that great lately, Miles," Charlie said quietly, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Grandpa and I talked, and he said that it would be best if I didn't go."

Miles stared at her for a moment before taking a deep breath and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Charlie," he said, quiet but firm as he waited for her to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

He watched as her expression changed from nervous to confused. "What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry we brought you into this war, and I'm sorry for not spending more time with you after it was over." He felt a lump rise in his throat and swallowed it back down, now suddenly unable to look her in the eye. "Hell, I remember how hard it was for Bass and me when we came home, and we had all of the required therapy shit."

Charlie finally realized what he was saying. He thought she couldn't go because she was going through something like PTSD, totally unaware of the real cause, and she hated watching him blame himself for something that wasn't even happening.

"Miles," she said quietly, reaching out to lightly place a hand on his arm. "That's not what this is about." He looked up at her, his face masked with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

"Then why can't you come with us, Charlie?"

She looked away, opening her mouth to answer yet no sound came out. Charlie found herself floundering for something to say, but unable to lie under Miles's look.

"I'mpregnant," she mumbled quickly under her breath.

"What?" Miles frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he leaned in to hear her.

Charlie looked up at him, blue eyes intently on his as she found the strength to say clearly, "I'm pregnant."

Miles took a step back, his jaw opening as his eyes widened in shock. He stared at her for a few minutes before finally strangling out, "Who?"

She closed her eyes briefly and braced herself as she said, "Bass."

At the silence that greeted her, she opened her eyes to see Miles practically shaking with rage.

"That son of a bitch," he seethed. "Did he force you?"

"No," she said quickly. "Of course not."

"Then how in the hell did that happen, Charlie?"

She glanced around nervously as his voice became louder, but thankfully the only people out and about were either drunk or didn't want to get involved.

"The victory party," she said quietly.

His eyes popped wide. "Two months ago?" he managed to get out. "You're nearly two months pregnant?" He waited for her confirming nod before daring to ask, "You sure it's his?"

She nodded again. "Haven't been with anyone else in the past three months," she said. "Only that one time."

Miles sighed in defeat. "Who knows about this?"

"Just Grandpa," she replied, pausing before adding, "and now you."

"When exactly are you planning on telling your mom? And what about Bass?" He watched her carefully, trying to gauge her thoughts.

"I'm going to have to tell Mom about being pregnant, of course," she said, her hands hovering around her abdomen. "But I was thinking of waiting until you got back to tell him."

Miles grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I think you're making a mistake, waiting so long," he said. "Bass is serious about family, you know that."

She gave a short nod. "I know. I just," she hesitated briefly before continuing, "I just don't want to bring this up and try to deal with all of the questions, then have him leave before we figure things out, you know?"

Miles rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair as he surveyed Charlie's determined expression. He was no fool, and he knew that Charlie and Bass had gotten closer, especially during the war when they were often partners while he was with Rachel. "It's your call, Charlie."

Charlie nodded in thanks. "I should be going home," she said, flashing a shy smile. "Grandpa's getting all crazy."

Miles snorted at that. "Just wait a few months, and for Rachel to find out." He looked down at his niece, who had walked into his bar in Chicago so young and naïve, filled with so much hope for a world that was long gone. She had transformed into a strong, beautiful, and loyal fighter, and was easily the most precious person in his life.

Charlie turned to leave, but Miles suddenly grabbed her arm and spun her back into his chest, holding her tight. "Take care of yourself, kid," he whispered against her temple.

Charlie burrowed her face in his chest and breathed him in. "I will."

He gently placed a kiss at her temple and murmured a broken, "Love you," before turning and hurrying back into the bar, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional moment.

Charlie grinned as she called out to his retreating back, "Love you too, Miles!"

Bass glanced up from his whiskey as he noticed Miles's approach. "What's up?"

Miles sat down heavily next to him and reached for the bottle. "Charlie can't come." He grabbed a glass before deciding he would need more than that and took a swig straight from the bottle.

He glanced up just in time to catch a glimpse of what almost looked like disappointment flash across Bass's face before he recovered. "What do you mean she can't come?"

Miles hesitated, unsure of what to say. "She needs to stay close to Gene," he finally decided on.

Bass stared at him for a few moments. "That's it?"

Miles shrugged helplessly, taking another drink. "I don't know what to tell you, Bass," he said truthfully.

Bass sat there, sullen and silent, before grabbing the bottle out of Miles's hand and taking a long drink. As he handed it back, a bosomy blonde sauntered up to their table, her sights clearly set on Monroe. She reached out a hand to lay on his arm, but before she made contact he looked up at her and growled, "Not interested, lady."

Miles watched the woman sulk off and was struck by the sudden realization that he hadn't seen Bass with a woman in months. He eyed his friend now, noticing how Bass had become glum, clearly focused on getting drunk as he finished off the whiskey.

Well, Miles thought, maybe there's something more to this after all.

Author's Note wow this is already way longer than anything I've done before, and it's only the first chapter! I'm not sure how many there will be, but please review below :)