Episode 18 from season two was the spark for the start of this story. There are so many interesting dynamics within their group when Charlie and Miles, Bass, Connor and Jason travel to Austin and those dynamics were the inspiration for this story.
This is fan fiction. I do not own Revolution and this is just a daydream and exploration about what could have happened too.
Pressure
Chapter
1.
Bass' eyes are filled with a deep focus as he scans the alley around him for anyone who could kill him before he gets a chance to kill them.
High buildings are towering around them. These streets used to be filled with cars, cabs and noises that everyone is starting to forget. Now, the streets of Austin are filled with ivy that gradually wraps itself around walls of structures that are slowly losing the battle to time moving along in this blackout world.
His hands are in the pockets of his leather jacket when two Rangers pass them. He feels the surface of hard concrete under his boots. It's a nice fucking change from all the hiding in the woods from the past few months.
Although he is aware of all the boring Ranger beige and every single thing that is happening around them, they are both trying to keep a low profile. Because when the Rangers find out Miles Matheson and Sebastian Monroe are in town, he knows things will probably go to hell pretty fucking fast.
He is kind of supposed to be dead and Miles kind of tried to assassinate Blanchard once when Texas was being.. .well, Texas. Like his brother who sucks at math, would say, it would all add up to awful faster than Rachel starts bitching every single time she feels they are not doing the right thing.
There is no right thing. This is war.
He is walking shoulder to shoulder through Austin, Texas, with a brother who would use to understand that. They are on their way back to their rendez vous point a couple of blocks away. Miles has hardly spoken to him since they left Blanchard's place.
His kid, and a set of blue eyes and a lot of stubbornness in the swing of those hips of hers, are on his mind again.
After Scanlon had found intel about cadets moving their ass to Austin to take down the Texan government and kill their president and after the Neville kid had walked his ass into their camp with a gun trimmed against the back of his kid's head , they had packed their shit and went to Austin for the road trip of the year.
That intel had lead them to a patriot safe house in an apartment building hidden in a quiet alley. While Connor, Charlie and Neville Junior had stayed behind to see if they could find more intel, he and Miles had been busy drinking whiskey at Blanchard's place.
With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he had told his mind to shut up every fucking time it had reminded him that Charlie was alone with his kid and Junior. Even a damn fine blonde, one of Blanchard's whores, touching the inside of his thigh with her knee when she had given him his glass of whiskey, had not been able to yank his thoughts away from Charlotte completely.
Blanchard's whiskey and an opportunity for some revenge had helped shoving that thought and why the long blonde lush hair of that one whore reminded him of Charlie so fucking much, to a dark corner of his mind. They had tried to get Frank on their side. It worked. End of story.
He looks at his brother, who should not be doing his whole frowning and pathetic let's think about everything some more thing.
Frank fucking Blanchard is on board with their whole let's wipe Kaki of the map for good plan. They have found a new ally in the form of Texas. And right the hell now, an ally is an ally. They need it.
There was a damn good reason why Miles tried to kill Frank, but if Frank himself is willing to let that one go, he can too. Bass cannot look at the doubt in Miles' eyes or listen to his brother's bullshit any longer. Austin is a win.
As far as Bass is concerned this means that the whining and nagging part of this year is over.
But because Miles is busy making plans to play house with a certain holier than thou bitch, his brother cannot even fucking see it. His next breath is filled with old and some new frustration, while his boots hit the pavement under him. He swallows the bitter taste of frustration away.
It is time for some good old fashioned action and Bass can feel the hunger to fight and thirst for revenge in his damn blood. They pass some Rangers and both of them lower their head instinctively when they take another right and walk into a small street.
Miles pushes open the door to the hallway of 19 Arnell street. While he and Bass are walking up the stairs of the apartment building they suddenly hear and feel an explosion above them that wakes up all their instincts.
They never hear the shot coming from only one block away from their current location.
Bass' eyes are wide as they fill with shock and deep steel fear. Miles' heartbeat runs wild in his chest as Charlie's name keeps on repeating itself in his head. Two brothers share one look. And then they just quicken their pace, moving up the stairs with adrenaline flooding their blood. Bass covers Miles while they make their way through the staircase.
Their training and experiences takes over. Their large hands firmly around their weapons. Their boots hit the stairs in a desperate rhythm.
They both have one goal and two people on their mind. Charlie. Connor.
Now.
10 minutes earlier
Jason never stops listening to the possibly of threats coming from the other side of the door of the small apartment. Monroe and Miles had left one hour ago. He is leaning against a wall close to the door. The crosses that mark the pressure grenades under the floorboards near the door are close to his boots. His hands are still cuffed. Miles gave the order to cuff him and he can't blame him.
He is keeping his distance from Connor. And her. She is the Charlie he remembers, but he can also feel a shift within her. She is stronger. Harder. She has every reason to not trust him. And yet, a part of her refuses to block him out completely.
And he knows that's still her. Her inability to shut someone out completely and that need to reach out for a part in someone worth fighting for, has survived the past year.
His eyes move from her to Connor. Their eyes have met more than once as both men have tried to figure out what the other means to her.
He looks at Connor. Monroe's son. When he had been sitting across from Charlie and Connor in the back of the wagon on their way to Austin, he had been unable to not think about what it would have been like. Philly. Independence hall. To see Connor standing right there with Monroe himself, when the heavy wooden doors to his office would be opened.
Two generations of Monroe men around one desk, looking at maps, reading reports and talking about strategy.
When Connor and Charlie had been busy loading the wagon in their camp, he had watched Monroe. Monroe had not been watching Connor. He had been watching Charlie,with his hand on the hilt of his sword.
He had grown up in the Republic. He had met Monroe at several official parties. His mom had always been busy charming her way into a more secure and comfortable life in Philadelphia while she would speak to Monroe with that fake smile plastered on her face, his dad always around.
His years in the Militia had taught him many things about its former General and President when it came to woman. And one look at him, while Monroe had been looking at her, and he had known that smething is happening there.
Charlie is going through bags and drawers . It has gotten dark and an oil lamp is burning on top of the fireplace to give them some light as they search the apartment.
Connor looks at Jason before he looks at Charlie. She has barely talked to him since they left their boat behind that helped them across the river and into Austin.
He can feel the tension or whatever the hell it is between her and Jason. He wishes he did not give a shit but he cannot wonder what the hell happened between her and sixpack. He has a feeling the asshole hurt her. And he finds himself in that place again where he somehow can't stand to see her hurt, no matter how much she is shutting him out.
He steps closer to her on purpose, making sure sixpack sees it. He refuses to break their eye contact first.
'Anything useful in there?' Connor asks when Charlie goes through some papers she has found on a small table.
Charlie doesn't look up when her eyes move over the papers in her hand. She can feel Connor's eyes on her but more than that, she can feel Jason staring at her again.
No matter how much she has tried to forget him. No matter how many times he had screwed them over and no matter how hard her mind reminds her of his lies and their start on that bright day near that river, when he was still Nate. A part of her still can't ignore him.
She can still see his damage and fear in his deep eyes that remind her of a cornered animal. She has seen the tattoo. She knows what it could mean. She can sense he keeps his distance. She noticed he did not even protest when Miles gave the order to cuff him. She knows why Miles never lets go of Jason with his eyes when he gets too close to her.
The room feels small, too small, for all of them here. She can feel the hostility between Connor and Jason. Her mind flows to Monroe and Miles. It is not the first time her mind has taken her there since they left to see Blanchard.
'I found some Californian papers.' Her voice breaks the heavy silence in the room. Charlie looks at Connor, while she tries to connect this new piece of information to the things she knows about Texas, the patriots and California.
'What the hell are Patriots doing with I.D's from California?' Connor asks.
But there is no time to answer his question because from the corner of her eyes she sees how the door slowly opens. The shot of adrenaline that her heart pumps through her body tells her it is not Miles. It is not Monroe.
Jason immediately reacts. His training in the Militia and what they did do him in that hellhole of a re-education camp set his instincts on fire. You are nothing but a weapon. He hears the voice of one of the cadet handlers again when they broke him down and rebuild him again.
Charlie is standing directly across from the door and if there is one thing he knows for sure, is that she cannot get hurt. Not because of him, and the tattoo at the inside of his eye. Not because of anyone.
Jason moves fast. He knocks the gun out of a hand that is slowly trying to open the door even further. The metal of his cuffs yams into the gun before it crashes down on the floor.
He yanks the door open. In a mechanic way his brain tells him to step over the two pressure grenades under the floorboards. He knows they are there because he knows their playbook. A part of his mind tells him he knows this son of a bitch he is following.
'Jason...' Charlie yells, while Jason runs into the narrow hallway. She follows him, Connor is right behind her.
Later, the sounds of his boots following her through the hallway is the last thing she will truly remember. What happens after that moment will be branded inside of her heart like the lines of Monroe's brand on her wrist.
She takes one step, and then another. And then, things move faster and slower at the same time. There is a low pressure that is swirling around her body and against her eardrums and then everything starts to fade into a dull unfocused image around her when she is knocked down to the floor.
She forces herself to stay conscious. When she is able to make sense of the world around her again she sees him on the floor. He is barely breathing, his eyes are unfocussed. Her heart shoves his name through her system with every heartbeat. Jason.
Jason. She needs to get to him. The rest fades. The lies, the past. She can only remember every single struggle she has witnessed between him and Neville. She knows his struggle. She knows his pain. It is all that remains when she pushes herself up from the wooden dirty floor of the hallway of an apartment building in Austin.
'Jason...' She crouches down next to his tall body on the floor. Her voice does not sound like it belongs to her. The ring in her ear mixes with nauseating fear. His eyes are closed. And when she gently turns him to see if there is anything she can do, she can see a small knife in his stomach as his shirt, and her tank, slowly turn into a deep red.
She cups his head with her hands. Her heart refuses to believe what her mind already knows.
And what started near a river on a bright day ends on the floor of a dirty floor in an apartment building in Austin.
And all that remains is for her to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Her tears mix with his blood that is slowly flowing from him him into her tank. She holds him. Hoping he can feel her, her desperate comfort in his last moments. Desperately trying to give him something. Anything.
She does not hear the sound of two sets of heavy boots behind her and a rough desperate voice calling out her name.
Author's Note The grenades from this episode always intrigued me and I really wanted to explore what could have happened when something would have happened with them in that episode. Thank you to the fabulous Threemagpies for her support. And thank you to all of you who are there, enjoying writing and reading fan fiction as well! Chapter two will be published next week. Love from Love