A holiday in New Xanadu - or - Bass and Charlie take a diversion on the road to Willoughby, have an adventure, star in a movie, practice with swords and see each other in a bit of a new light…
A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson with mention of and possible appearance of regular characters in the show: Miles Matheson, Rachael Matheson, Aaron Pittman, Charloe. Rating T, heading towards M later…
Summary: Sometime before the blackout… a very rich doomsday prepper read a poem called 'Xanadu', thought that it all sounded like a Really Great Idea and built his own version with a little help from some very creative friends. This is what happened when Charlie and Bass – on their way to Willoughby from New Vegas (the first time) stumble upon a garden, fall into a deep sleep after eating genetically manipulated, intoxicating fruit, veg and Honeysuckle and wake up in New Xanadu's hollow hills. They meet some very interesting people and learn a few unexpected things about each other. I really hope you enjoy the ride as much as they did… The story ends up with them (eventually and, well…mostly) back in canon and back on the road to Willoughby
Length: 4-5 chapters
AN – A very sincere and special thank you to the wonderful LemonSupreme for lots of encouragement, support and excellent advice. You are truly awesome :D
Chapter 1: About a week after Bass saves Charlie from a horrible fate in the bar in Pottsboro.
Somewhere on the road to Willoughby…
It had been several days since she woke up after Sebastian Monroe rescued her from the – now very dead – attempted rapists in Pottsboro and she was still a) embarrassed about falling for the date rape drug in the drink thing, b) amazed and embarrassed that Monroe had found her, c) angry and embarrassed about feeling grateful that he had and d) confused and embarrassed about the fact that she was really attracted to him even though she still hated him (?)… She had absolutely no idea how he felt about it all – he hadn't given much away… Despite this, Charlie and Monroe had arrived at a sort of strange understanding. She didn't actively try to kill him (for now anyway…) and he didn't try to attempt unnecessary conversation - which suited her just fine. They seemed to communicate quite well really though gesture and weirdly effective eye contact with a word or two thrown in every now and then.
He was so different to what she'd expected, and he was being such a 'complete gentleman' that it was beginning to irritate her – a lot… She had found her gaze drawn to him again and again during the long hours on the road and around the campfire, puzzled by the apparent change from General Monroe and trying to work him out… He'd said that he needed her to get to Miles but why did he really want to? He'd said he wanted to try to make up for what he'd done but could people really change so much and again why? Their truce was so new and fragile that she didn't want to ask him directly yet – there was still a long way to go to Willoughby...she would find out before they got there…
Monroe had been doing all of the driving (she had offered to take a turn but he'd thanked her – politely – and just kept going…), looked after the horses and did the maintenance on the wagon. For some reason she couldn't work out the horses seemed to really like him and he spent a lot of time with the pair during breaks and when they set up camp for the night… quietly grooming, tending and talking to them. He actually seemed to care about their welfare… which didn't fit at all with her increasingly fracturing image of him as heartless General Monroe; although she supposed if he didn't they'd be walking…
Monroe had also proven to be a (much) better cook than Charlie – somehow managing to make the very basic provisions so kindly provided by the – ex – bounty hunters into almost edible meals so he tended to take this role on too. It was all a bit … surprising…
Unfortunately he also looked after – which meant he wore, hid or slept with all of the actual weapons – and even some of the cooking utensils. Charlie was pretty sure she could come up with something that might do the trick – but she doubted that she could either take him by surprise or attempt to out fight (or out manoeuvre) him at the moment. Even walking away was probably pointless - he had demonstrated in Pottsboro (lucky for her that time) that he could and would find her if he wanted to... So on the way to Willoughby they went…
She was still a little bit woozy too after the drugs the morons had given her – and while she was in that state (and even after…maybe…), having ex General, ex President of the Republic and current killing machine Sebastian Monroe apparently willing to help her out if needed was not a bad thing. In fact his presence was so strangely comforting in a really unsettling way (cue flashback to being drugged and falling down in the bar then seeing him burst through the door, eyes like blue suns…) that she didn't quite know how to explain it to herself let alone anyone else and she flatly refused at the moment to think of Miles' – or heaven forbid - her mother's attitude to Monroe when she waltzed in to Willoughby with him...
When she had first found him, in New Vegas, she had been unable to look away from the fight happening in that crowded and raucous tent – and gods the memory of that still made her head spin. He was so alive, so dangerously capable… and beautiful like a storm… The poor guy they had put up (set up?) to fight him hadn't had a chance against Monroe (aka Jimmy King), even though physically they were a similar size and looked on the face of it evenly matched. Monroe had made beating him to a pulp look almost pathetically easy. She had found herself weaving around the crowd in the tent just staring at him, keeping out of sight behind the cheers and shouts…She was watching him so hard she was honestly surprised that he hadn't felt her there…but maybe he was just so used to women staring and…lusting? Charlie mentally kicked herself, hard… The pretty blonde he had gone to the roulette wheel with seemed awfully happy to be there with him though...and Charlie had had this odd urge to hit her on the head with something…
She just hadn't expected or been prepared for this new Monroe... Hard muscled, toned and obviously deadly but so different than the General Monroe she had met/hated in Philly…. She found herself thinking of the young ex Militia bartender who told her about having seen Monroe – sending her racing off to New Vegas. He had been sweet and she'd enjoyed herself but when she pictured him next to Monroe it was like putting a lanky puppy next to a timber wolf…
Damn it she was going all poetic over Monroe and his amazing, well everything… she so needed to get a grip…
She had still wanted to kill him though – it was kill him or… but she really didn't want to think about that. Then just when she thought she had him right in her sights … those idiot bounty hunters arrived and both she and Monroe ended up in that empty pool. It had felt so good at first to see him tied up to the wall - even if she was too – as well as sore as hell from the salt shot and the fall in… But somehow she knew that he wasn't really helpless at all… in fact she had this crazy feeling that he was somehow indestructible…he just kept surviving…everything…
He escaped from the Bounty hunters just after they hit the road - just as she told them he would, he killed the older one and beat up the younger one. She had run after them and in a frenzy of – something - tried to knock Monroe out with a length of pipe she'd found – she vaguely remembered him telling her to stop but she couldn't so he hit the air out of her – and while she lay there gasping like a fish out of the stream he took the hunter's wagon, driving away while all she could do was lie there…
A bit later, while she and the surviving bounty hunter were following him – on foot - Monroe had stopped, hidden the wagon, walked back, come out of nowhere and casually knocked out the younger man (Adam?) with the butt of the guy's own rifle. Well ok, she had been about to deck him herself (his eyes had been so firmly fixed on her butt she was surprised he hadn't been swaying in time with it…) just so he could show her the Patriot's wanted posters of him - and her mother!
Monroe then proposed (suggested - demanded?) that they go together to find Miles and her family as they would, quote, 'need him' to fight the Patriots. She had refused – naturally - getting so close into his face when she told him he was delusional she could smell his sweat, feel his breath and the heat of his skin (thinking weirdly that they both so needed a bath…), and could see the bruises and the blood drying on his face and body from the fight and capture by the hunters…
He hadn't backed away though and for long moments they just stared into each other's eyes – almost close enough to kiss (the thought seemed to float between them….). He was completely focused on her – almost smiling and he really had the most intensely blue eyes she thought - though they flickered and changed with the light and the emotions behind them…. It was like falling into the sky... She broke away abruptly from that gaze, turned on her heel and walked away. She'd told him he couldn't track her but hadn't really believed it, she thought he could probably do anything he wanted if he wanted to enough...and she had dared him to shoot her (or to do something…she didn't want to think what…) if he wanted to stop her leaving. She could feel him watching her though as she strode down that road, the rings on her belt jingling with the sway of her hips, half hoping that he would do something… but he didn't …
Pottsboro: and she'd got herself so badly (sorry Miles – stupid to the max...) in trouble…. Then Monroe had suddenly burst in the door out of nowhere…(again?) and simply mowed through every single one of those men in the bar in a graceful, efficient display of swordsmanship, energy and controlled violence. In her drugged (and to be honest) despairing state - she was good but had really thought she was going to die – and not in a good way, he had appeared like a vengeful angel/devil? She really wasn't quite sure which and really didn't care - but that was another memory that kept coming back at odd moments, making her breath catch; her heart pound and liquefying her bones with the power and strange beauty of it…
Miles was really good – he had taught her a lot and she had become a pretty good fighter but this Monroe was in a completely different league…. he had been like one of the gladiators in the pictures that Aaron used to show her of ancient Greece and Rome… but the General Monroe she remembered from Philadelphia was all starched uniform and cold gaze – handsome in a marble way, a statue moving… Even when he saved her the first time (?) in the tower, he had seemed completely in control and unflustered; still in uniform he had even suggested politely that 'a thank you would be nice Charlotte….' then looked calmly down at her, expecting her to ...what? She remembered being so utterly furious….
After all that, after all the work he had put into saving her life on two occasions now she had absolutely no doubt that she was better off with him than with anyone else she could think of at the moment (except maybe Miles) as long as he needed her to get to Miles to 'help him and her family…' and what was with that? Could she believe he had changed that much – and why? She was very curious about this new Monroe and somehow the urge to kill him was getting more remote each day she spent with him. How could he seem so different and what did he really want? She sighed…
She wasn't sure if he knew that something had changed in how she felt towards him… She was aware that he always watched her – even when he seemed to be sleeping (although she suspected that he didn't ever sleep more than surface deep), and her slightest move seemed to alert him. He obviously still didn't trust her with anything that could possibly be a weapon, although she knew her crossbow was in the wagon – he had told her that the Bounty hunters had found it and stashed it in there, her knives too…
Maybe he had noticed though because that evening, as they sat on their sleeping bags around the campfire after a meal of beans (again) and other assorted provisions from the Bounty Hunter's stores he leaned back against his improvised pillow, stretched out his long legs, and studied her by the glow of the firelight and the stars (no moon tonight). He was oiling a piece of the horse's tack, hands moving surely and smoothly over the leather and brass with a piece of rag…
'Maybe its time you started pulling your weight Charlotte…' he said calmly in his low, cultured voice; he didn't smile, just looked at her with those solemn and somehow remote and sad (?) blue eyes (he hadn't really smiled since that time at the pool when he said that she was like her mother…), except at the horses, she thought with a mental shrug… ' You're a tracker and a good hunter, you're looking better and we could do with some extra protein and anything else you could find… '. His hands kept moving over the leather with easy strokes but his gaze held hers…
'I'm good with my hands but better with my crossbow', she said – her head tilted slightly and a challenge in the set of her full mouth and the narrowed eyes – he could see her dimple flicker in the firelight and he wondered if she knew how very beautiful she was – even dirty and dishevelled (as they both were he thought wryly – he was even getting used to the smell…) then he put the thought away – not useful…he needed to move her a little towards trusting him now that she was getting physically better, not have her seeing him as a possible predator like those creeps he had put out of her misery in that dung heap of a bar...
He leaned forward again, putting the leather and rag down, rubbing his hands together to relax the muscles, his gaze becoming more intense as he met hers - the firelight making his eyes gleam (like stars?) in the shadows of his face; 'Ok' he said, nodding slightly, the edges of his mouth lifting a little. 'You can have the crossbow and bolts for hunting and the knives for butchering – if you give me your word you won't try to kill me – or do anything to stop both of us getting to Miles and your Mother'. Her eyes narrowed and her grin sharpened at that… (truth was though that he didn't want to have to hurt her if she tried…she was a tricky thing and he wasn't going to underestimate her…) 'and that you will work with me, calmly, for the duration of this trip', her smile broadened then into the one he remembered from the pool 'and what the hell makes you think I'll keep my word Monroe?', Bass got to his feet to return the tack to the wagon 'Because I believe you are someone who keeps their promises Charlotte'. She looked up at him, could still see his eyes, hard not to – even at that height they seemed to hold hers captive 'so you'll just believe me?' she challenged again… His lips tightened, his face became very serious and he nodded – 'I'll just believe you Charlie…'
'Ok' she said.
…..
She headed out before dawn – glad to be back to the familiar rhythms of tracking and foraging, so happy to be moving under her own power… She had brought a bag for gathering any likely nuts, berries, greens etc and string to tie up small game – anything larger and she might have to get help from Monroe. Her crossbow felt good in her hands, her knives – and other a few other things (the bounty hunters were at least thrifty enough to grab her pack as well as her weapons) were in their familiar places on her belt; the ground felt good under her feet, the sun was rising, the air was sweet - she felt ok and things were definitely looking up…
The country was quite heavily wooded with hills surrounding her, ranging off into the distance – she thought there might be caves maybe? Not good crop farming country – more hill country grazing, although she hadn't seen any traces of larger domestic animals as yet. She kept her eye out for predator tracks; packs of dogs and wolves had been seen in larger numbers over the years – and even some of the larger feline and ursine carnivores, escaped from zoos and private collections – or from previously endangered natural populations - were thriving with fewer people around and the return of clean wilderness….
She headed downhill towards the river – fast running in places but broad, maybe good fishing pools somewhere along there she noted for later - then almost immediately found rabbit sign. She took three in quick succession, glad to find that she hadn't lost any of her skills with her crossbow, and was after a fourth when she saw something in a clearing up ahead that looked really interesting… If it was what she hoped for the variety in their diet would be improved by about a million percent, she was so completely over preserved everything…. something would be in season and ready to pick…
Moving quietly and carefully towards the vivid colours and assorted greens of the (hopefully) abandoned garden, all of her senses on high alert for any human presence…her hand casually brushed aside a vine tendril hanging head high across her path as she passed between two trees. She continued on - not noticing that behind her the tendril retracted its leaves from the contact, the reaction spreading along its stem and continuing out of sight through the trees until it reached a small opening behind a rock at the foot of a hill some hundreds of metres away…
Charlie looked around her with great and hungry satisfaction; she was already chomping her way through a heavenly apple. The garden was wild and overgrown and there were no obvious recent traces of human intervention or presence – although the local wildlife had been having a wonderful time. She had found edible tubers, tomatoes, apples, snake beans - and carrots ! There were even some oranges still on their tree…as well as a variety of herbs and useable greens all growing in wild profusion; she was salivating just thinking of what Monroe would make out of all of this (Charlie was happy to do the collecting but happier that he would be doing the cooking…). She would have to come back to get more though … with a bigger bag... There were a couple of pumpkins still sitting after last season, their tough skins mostly protecting them from insects and birds, she also noticed some Passionfruit vines with - wonder of wonders - some ripe fruit, she ate a couple of those too... bliss…she caught every drop of the wonderful juice…
She suddenly caught a familiar scent and saw a Honeysuckle vine growing over the remains of a brick wall – flowering with glorious abandon and smelling divine. Charlie had always loved the scent of Honeysuckle and for a moment she was back with Danny and her Dad in Maggie's garden in Sylvania, before Neville and the Militia had come and destroyed her world. On General Monroe's orders…she thought, suddenly wondering what was happening to her, and what was going to happen between her and Monroe…
She sighed and picked some anyway, burying her face in the richly scented blossoms… It was simply and delightfully wonderful; she took another breath letting the delicious smell go deep into her lungs and she sucked the honey from some of the ripe flowers like she used to do in brief moments away from looking after Danny (who couldn't go near them as they set off his asthma). She sighed again, but felt refreshed and so amazingly glad to have found all of this; Monroe was going to be seriously impressed…
She packed up as much as she could carry (probably a bit more than she really could if she was honest…), and headed back – moving quickly … somehow she hadn't noticed the time slipping away and it was heading towards mid afternoon, she would be lucky if Monroe didn't think she had broken her word and walked away – or that something had happened to her - again... She sped up, intent on getting back, her usual instincts somehow distracted so she didn't feel the intent gaze of the man and woman – dressed in camouflage gear, their faces streaked in green and blue paint, who watched her from a short distance away from behind the Honeysuckle wall, and she had absolutely no idea that as she moved off they glanced at one another, exchanged delighted smiles and followed her.
…..
As she approached the camp, her legs and arms aching… she caught sight of Monroe and suddenly stopped, her bundles slipping unnoticed to the ground…she was having a flashback to a strange mix of Gould's tent and Pottsboro, her eyes were caught and held by the sight of him….
Monroe was practicing with his swords (he seemed to like using two, one smaller than the other) in a clearing near the camp. He was bare to the waist, doing a complicated set of exercises that involved lots of graceful movements and fast and dangerous looking turns, his swords snapping through the air with what seemed like impossible precision and speed. His upper body was covered in sweat – which only made his muscular torso and powerful arms look more…well…just more….
Charlie found herself completely focused on him – he seemed to glow with energy and he looked just so damn amazing with the late afternoon sun making his hair, body – and the swords - seem outlined in gold (the Gladiator image came back again to haunt her) and Charlie found herself thinking about him in ways she probably shouldn't given that she was taking him to Miles of all people, and to her mother - who would want to kill him anyway without any added extra reasons like for example her having had wild and probably incredible sex with him… which she really, really wanted to do, right here, right now….it had been quite a while since the night with the sweet (but puppy…?) barman.. But this was Sebastian Monroe! She caught her bottom lip between her teeth; she was so in trouble…
She should have known that he would know she was there… he slowed his movements and looked over at her, "I was beginning to think I might need these again..' he said calmly (he wasn't even out of breath, she thought), finished the exercise then stopped (sword dancing? she thought in a sort of delirium of awareness…). He walked smoothly towards her, sliding both swords neatly - and without looking - into the holster on his left hip then stopped just out of range but so close that she was finding it even harder to think straight and her insides were just …melting… 'Well Charlotte', he said looking down at her collection and shaking his head in amazement…then he grinned at her, teeth gleaming and eyes crinkling blue… "You said you were good but you didn't tell me you were some kind of food magician…", she swallowed and let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding.. 'Hey Monroe', she shrugged, trying be nonchalant but wandering whether she could prevent herself jumping his bones if he got any closer 'I told you I was better with my crossbow...'
He knelt down to inspect what she had found (deliberately putting himself in a - slightly -vulnerable position before her – a show of faith…), 'this is incredible – where did you find all of this?' He looked up at her – her eyes seemed a little out of focus and she ran her tongue over her lips without answering him… he held back a satisfied grin…Of course he had known what he was doing by staging his little demonstration (he'd needed the practice anyway but usually did it with his shirt on…), had seen how she looked at him sometimes, and had wanted to push her a little towards attachment – because he really needed – and wanted - her on his side. It seemed to have worked. From his position he could catch her rich scent and knew that she – and interesting parts of her body - had reacted as he'd really hoped they would, given that she was young, healthy and very vibrantly female...and seemed to find him attractive.
To be fair though he was the only possibly suitable male around (the only male actually) and he had saved her life etc etc… He didn't usually have trouble attracting women - quite the opposite - but this was an interesting situation to say the least…to his surprise and secret delight though, Charlie rallied quickly, flashed him that cheeky grin and gave him an appreciative once over, a searing glance that lingered on his bare chest and arms, slanted to the swords on his hip - and down further - then slid up again to his eyes – yet another challenge from her keeping him on his knees a bit longer for a slightly more - pressing - reason than admiring her vegetables…
Ruefully, he realised he was getting to really like and respect this girl… but then she was a Matheson wasn't she – his buttons were ready and willing to be pushed… Suddenly he caught another scent, flowers…? 'And where the hell did you find Honeysuckle out here?' he mused… he'd always loved Honeysuckle… he actually was amazed – his face showed it and she blushed a little…
'I found a… what did you call it in the old days? A super mart?' she actually smiled at him…a big full on grin and he couldn't believe his luck… 'Seriously though' she went on - looking at him intently 'will you teach me how to do that?' He was honestly confused for a moment, 'what…how to kneel?', …she sighed and looked at him as though he had grown another head. 'No, Monroe…' she leaned over, keeping eye contact and picked up her flowers, leaving him the bag and the string of rabbits then stood back up, having given him a (deliberate? and very rewarding he had to admit) view down the front of her tank top… 'What you were doing over there," she tipped her head towards where he had been practicing.. "I want you to teach me that,' she went over towards the campfire, hips swaying and belt rings jingling with that 'look at my ass' walk of hers… 'After you fix us dinner of course…' she said over her shoulder.
Later, with full and satisfied stomachs for the first time in what seemed like a really, really long time…. they both let out a long, happy breath and relaxed back against their improvised pillows… Charlie sighed again… 'That was so good…' she whispered appreciatively. He chuckled 'we make a pretty good team Charlotte – you find it, I cook it…' she considered that and shrugged a little – she wasn't ready to agree with the team thing (yet?) but she had to admit that that had been a wonderful meal… Even the horses were happy, they had had a carrot each and the expression on their horsey faces as they munched had been worth a few diamonds….
'There's a lot more food in that garden" she said lazily, rolling over to catch his gaze (disconcertingly near somehow…his eyes almost lavender in the evening light, with flickering highlights in them from the campfire), "We really should go back and get some for the road…" her voice tailed off… she yawned, she was so sleepy suddenly. Monroe must have caught the yawn bug and had his own moment… then smiled at her (again…) things were getting interesting she thought… his teeth were very white…and he had really wonderful cheekbones, and curly hair… she mused to herself… not realising that she was gazing dreamily at him… 'What about first thing in the morning Charlotte?' his said, voice teasing… interrupting her reverie, "I don't think the rabbits will eat it all before then..." he yawned again…'we might have to leave the sword prac to tomorrow too, its getting too dark anyway', he stretched himself out and plumped up his head rest – 'I think I might have a really early night…'.
He suddenly lifted his head and looked over at her again, very serious "I would be honoured to teach you some of what I have learned Charlotte", he moved his head in a small bow towards her, 'but you should know that traditionally exercises with the double swords are performed topless…' Charlie's eyes opened wide suddenly and she looked sideways at him, not quite sure what to think - but then saw his lips twitching just a tiny bit and found an apple core by her right hand that was promptly and very accurately thrown at him – getting him square in the left eye…'Hey!' he complained, 'can't blame a guy for trying….', though inside he was triumphant… 'got you'… he thought to himself, the Monroe charm still works – even on this stubborn, opinionated, infuriating and utterly engaging Matheson…
He felt his eyes drooping again, he really was sleepy, too sleepy to even think of pressing his, possibly temporary, advantage and getting a bit closer to her but, he thought with surprise…. it had been so long since he felt this relaxed… he was really enjoying just lying there... He looked over at Charlotte (he knew she preferred Charlie but he liked to provoke her – her full name suited her and he was the only one who used it and he liked that - a lot…) she already seemed to be asleep, tiny little snores escaping through her slightly open mouth… He smiled lazily watching her. He was really looking forward to tomorrow although reminded himself sternly that this really was Charlotte Matheson – and that he shouldn't take anything for granted. He frowned a little… It was a warm evening but he thought that maybe he should get up put a cover over her so she didn't get cold later, but somehow he just couldn't get himself up off his ass to do it though…just couldn't… he settled back into the suddenly much more comfortable bedroll and yawned yet again…
Some still alert, paranoid part of his mind was trying really hard to wake him up, shouting out a warning that there was Something Really Wrong! But he really couldn't pay attention to it right now, things were so soft and warm and he was so comfortable… his eyes drifted closed…
Far enough away from the camp that there was no chance of being seen or heard - unless like them you had binoculars and a listening vine (hollow, flexible, easy to transport, virtually invisible – a simple plant to other eyes and very effective…), the man and woman from the garden waited for the fascinating couple to go to sleep. The young woman's male companion (they had guessed there would be someone – a young woman travelling on her own in these parts would be unusual to say the least) had been a wonderful and very impressive surprise…
Things had gone well, once the young woman had found the entrance to the garden, springing the alarm and alerting Xanadu Scouts, she had been observed and followed to her camp where the couple had eaten the produce. The combination of soporifics in the various genetically altered vegetables and herbs together with the hallucinogens in the pollen of the Honeysuckle flowers, potent enough when breathed in but even more so if ingested (and the beautiful pair had each eaten honey from several of the flower tips…) would keep them asleep and unaware for several hours. Except perhaps for a dreamlike feeling of movement, they would have no idea of what was happening while they and their goods were moved to New Xanadu.
William – and the others- would be delighted to meet their new guests.
A few minutes later, several other men and women – all in subdued colours or camouflage gear appeared from out of the woods and moved up to join the original pair; they wouldn't have long to wait until it was safe to approach…
…..
It would of course have been preferable - and more ethical, for the residents of New Xanadu to simply ask interesting people if they would like to visit but that had proven to be impossible in this post apocalypse world – the location of the refuge had to be protected or they would be overrun and their work of decades despoiled. The world was an even more brutal place now than it had been before the blackout event and there were a great many dangers on the outside… William was very right in keeping the community hidden…
Rumours and myths had been circulating in surrounding towns for a few years now though of a hidden paradise under the hills since a group of hunters - several injured from an encounter with a bear, had stumbled across one of the hidden entrances to the Hollow hill. This was before Petra had invented the lookout vines and worked her magic on various other plants of course…
The lost and injured men and women had found their way in and been welcomed and healed, their skills and genes enhancing the community. The new members had seemed to understand the need for continued secrecy to protect the refuge – all but one… He had wanted to go back to his family (they understood the need to do that) but the man had then foolishly started the rumours about what he had found – and he had never stopped looking for the way back… They had realised that they couldn't trust him though so had moved the entrances and altered the landscape to prevent him finding the doors again. Most of the people he told (even his family) thought he had been addled by the sun and trauma and didn't believe his tales of a lost paradise - and as people disappeared all the time these days, the search for his missing companions was perfunctory at best…
Since that time though, people occasionally become curious about the rumours and came wandering, seeking for Xanadu…. Mostly these searchers (or rare travellers) were ignored by scouts and lookouts and let pass by, and if they happened to find the garden (actually a chemical factory designed to look abandoned) they would simply enjoy a few pieces of fruit perhaps, pick a few flowers, have a comfortable sleep and then go on their way, thinking that perhaps they had found the answer and the remnants of paradise… leaving the apparently deserted garden to its dreaming...
If they looked interesting though, or if there was something about them that could provide aesthetic inspiration or practical knowledge for the benefit of the community then – like now – arrangements could be made to quietly spirit them to the community once Petra's genius creations had taken effect. When the new guests woke in Xanadu they were usually amazed and very grateful to be given the opportunity of joining the community although, after the incident with the hunters and thanks again to another of Petra's inventions, they could now if they wished, choose to drink one of her special potions and forget – and leave with the secret of the community safe, their memory of it as distant and as dreamlike as the garden…
Each one of the people waiting for the man and woman to fall asleep by their campfire hoped very much that these two would decide to stay….
….
Authors note:
This will be a story relatively light in angst, heavier in illusion and allusion – I felt that Bass and Charlie deserved a bit of a holiday and loved the idea of them having one in a hidden paradise built by a philanthropic doomsday prepper… There are some more serious issues that may be investigated along the way however.
I thought that something, as well as the obvious but emotionally complicated physical attraction between them that might help prompt Charlie to change the way she thinks about Monroe (he isn't Bass to her yet…) would be her recognition of and admiration for his fighting skills – as well as his almost uncanny ability to survive (Charlie is strong but has had a recent experience of being in extreme danger and I think would be strongly motivated to do anything she could to make herself less vulnerable). I also wanted her to see some of the other, gentler, more human sides to Monroe…
For his part, Bass is intrigued by her and finds her extremely attractive (for many reasons) but at this stage he is concentrating more on getting her to trust him/come over to his side and is willing to use his proven attractiveness to women to do this… in this chapter he is not yet (or doesn't realise that he might be) looking for a closer relationship with her… although that is really where they are heading (this is a Charloe fic after all…).
Reviews are very welcome – this is my first fan fic, so am hoping I have researched properly…any mistakes in geography or detail are mine alone of course. I am just enjoying writing about these two lovely characters who have been so wonderfully given longer life by so many wonderful writers…and, as others have said, I don't own any part of Revolution although I think the Charloe part of it has taken on a life of its own! :D