Author's Note: This story is a Secret Santa 2013 gift for Team Nivy (remainvanishing & ivy_b) and their prompt "Miles & Charlie & Bass on a roadtrip". It's my favourite AU thing for these three, imagine all the snark and flirting and eyerolling... *flails* I tried to stick to one plot but I get the feeling I didn't succeed entirely. \o/
Disclaimer: I own neither the show nor the characters. I don't earn any money with this piece. I just do it for whispers they hear aren't reassuring.
The whispers they hear aren't reassuring.
The Patriots are becoming more powerful each day, more people disappear, some come back but different, nothing more than empty shells, others don't come back at all.
Then, one day, Rachel and Gene vanish without a trace, and all Miles, Charlie and Bass have is the rumor that they're brought to a place somewhere in the Wasteland.
They leave the town the next day, long before dawn breaks, and head out west.
o0o
The first few days, they stay off the roads, aware of the Patriots' eyes and ears everywhere, some visible, some hidden.
They walk most of the days and nights, barely sleep, and if they do, it's for no more than an hour, sometimes even less, always with one hand on the hilt of their swords.
After eight days, when no pursuer are in sight, they dare to settle for a full night in an old barn. They still keep one hand on their weapons.
o0o
They don't talk about Ben or Danny.
It's like an unspoken rule, their names never passing their lips, but sometimes, when the day is long and the road seemingly never-ending, Charlie can't help but feel she's betraying her father and brother.
Those nights she settles down further away from Miles and Bass, and stares into the darkness beyond the camp until the sun is rising, her mind and heart at war.
o0o
Miles watches from across the fire as Bass gently pulls Charlie's jacket around the sleeping girl's shoulders, making sure she's warm and won't freeze tonight.
Something pulls in the hollow of his chest, something he thought he'd lost a long time ago, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair with what may be weary resignation.
o0o
They avoid towns and cities as best as possible, the number of wanted posters with their faces on them getting higher each week, but once in a while, when their supplies run low, they have no other choice.
The first time, Miles and Bass are so busy arguing about who's going in, they don't notice Charlie slipping away to do it herself, tired of feeling like they think she isn't as capable as they are.
When she returns, Miles grips her shoulder with one hand and pulls her close, sliding his other arm around her waist. "Don't you ever do this again, Charlie," he whispers, his voice low against her ear, before letting go and picking up the backpack she brought with her to go through it.
Before Charlie has the chance to follow him, fingers close tightly around her wrist, and she turns to find Bass standing next her. He tugs at her hand, his palm was warm against her skin, thumb curved along her wrist, pressing along her pulse line, and she swallows hard at the dark look in his eyes, her heart a wild thing inside her chest.
o0o
When they stumble upon a Militia hide-out, the soldier's guns pointing at their hearts and the swords pressing against their skin, Bass isn't sure if they going to make it, and his fingers flex against the hilt of his own sword.
Someone moves in his peripheral vision, Charlie's stepping forward, and Bass jerks involuntarily, the blade at his throat nicking his skin, but the pain is nothing against the tight feeling growing in his chest.
She pushes her sleeve back, and the feeling turns into something fierce and possessive as he sees the brand on her wrist, and Bass drags in a much-needed breath.
They leave as soon as possible, don't stop until sunrise, and while Miles goes in search of water, Charlie tends to the cut as his throat. The light tip of her finger traces over his collarbone up to his throat, and Bass expels his breath in a long hiss. Her touch licks fire against his skin and he thinks, he won't mind being burned if it's by her.
o0o
Charlie knows, it's their way of finding middle ground again, edging closer to the point where they can call each other friends, maybe even brothers again, but there's this shadow of envy at the edge of her mind, tainted with jealousy, that she won't ever be part of it.
Pittsburgh. Cincinnati. Springfield. Fort Smith - cities with good memories for Miles and Bass.
Whenever they say just the name of a city and share one of those rare grins, her own smile feels less bright and real.
o0o
A bemused smile flits across his lips as Charlie stares in rapt fascination at the once-red car sitting in a ditch and loosing color fast.
"This looks like the one you had," she tells him.
"Yeah," he replies, and in a heartbeat, they're back in the past, remembering the day he picked her up for a ride, the laughter, the singing and the happiness they shared. Slowly, he reaches up and touches her face, gently stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles and brushing her hair away from her face.
In this moment, Miles comes close to hating Ben for what he's done, for what he's taken away from him.
o0o
Some mornings, Charlie wakes up to Bass lying next to her, his hand lightly touching hers.
Other days, Miles is lying behind her, his chest brushing against her back with every breath he takes.
o0o
When he had heard about Miles coming after his nephew, Bass had wondered what had changed Miles' mind, what had made him come out of hiding.
Then he met Charlie, Charlotte, and Bass began to see what Miles had seen. She's a force to be reckoned with, she pushed and shoved her way into his life, and before he knew it, she's gotten under his skin. She's like a spark of light in the darkness he'd been living in, waking feelings he thought had been long dead, and not matter how often he claims to hate it, truth is, he doesn't.
As he stands in the shadows and watches Miles and Charlie laughing as she tries to teach her uncle fishing, Bass asks himself if he's talking about Miles or himself.
o0o
The town is a trap, not specifically set for them but for anyone opposing the Patriots, and Charlie is just so unlucky to walk right into it as she tries to get new supplies for them.
She fights, uses all the tricks in the book, but in the end, there are too many of the bad guys, and she's thrown into a cell, bloody, bruised and half-unconscious. She looses track of time, doesn't know if it's day or night, and falls into a darkness full of nightmares and pain.
At one point she dreams of their voices, hears them yell her name and the sound of battle.
"Charlie, are you...? Stay with me, Charlotte, stay with me!" The voice is too real, and when she concentrates particularly hard, she can make out dark hair and bright blue eyes. Hands slip under her body and someone picks her up, holding her close to their chest, her head resting on their shoulder.
"Is she...?" With gentle fingers, someone else brushes her tangled hair away from her sweat-soaked face and she leans into the caress. Just before she drifts off again, something soft and warm touches her temple, and her lips curve into a tired smile.
o0o
They sit at her bedside and wait.
Their girl almost died, they almost lost her to a bunch of crazy people who think they're almighty, and the irony isn't lost on them.
They were once like that, and if it weren't for Charlie, they still would be.
"Damn it, Charlie, wake up."
They don't know what's going to happen if she doesn't.
Three days later, as a storm is raging outside, she does.
o0o
Charlie's rubbing her thumb over her empty sheath when a hand holding a blade appears in her line of sight, and startled, she raises her head.
"Here. A replacement for the one that was taken from you," Bass answers her unasked question, and slowly, she reaches out to take it, her fingers brushing his skin as she closes them around the hilt, and she hears his breath catch in his throat.
She glances up and finds him looking at her intently, the weight of his gaze settling heavy across her collarbone, and suddenly, Charlie finds it difficult to breathe.
Things have changed between them, she doesn't know when it began, the Tower? New Vegas? Or maybe Willoughby? What she does know without a doubt is that he's no longer the enemy, that he became something else to her.
All she has to figure out is what exactly.
o0o
"Stop it, Miles."
The quietly spoken words pull him from his thoughts and when he lifts his head, Miles finds the owner of the voice near the staircase, partly veiled by darkness, partly bathed in sunlight.
A flash in the shadows, the sunlight catching in her eyes as she shifts to lean against the wall of the abandoned farmhouse, and there's no blame or accusation in her eyes, only the strength of a girl who's been through much worse than being a prisoner of the Patriots.
Miles attempts to school his features but Charlie has learned to see beyond his mask, and before he can speak, she's stepped forward, until she's close enough for him to see the faint outlines of the bruises and scars on her skin.
His hands clench into fists, something cold winding up his spine, and he turns to go but Charlie reaches out, wraps her arms around his waist. Of their own volition, his hands grip the back of her shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric.
She's warm and alive in his arms, bruised but not broken, never broken, and he presses a hard kiss to her forehead.
o0o
It's a little after midnight when Charlie gives up all pretense of sleeping and turns towards the fire, staring at the flames for a long time before speaking. "Do you think...mom and grandpa are okay?"
Miles looks up from the gun he's cleaning and with a sigh, sets the gun aside. "You do know your mom, right?"
"What do you mean?" she asks, confused with the odd question.
To her right, Bass snorts as he rolls over and grins at her. "What he means is that it's highly possible that your mom has already taken care of the Patriots when we find them and is going to complain why it took us so long."
Miles nods. "She will bring hell down on those bastards and make them wish they had never taken her."
Charlie laughs softly, knowing it may be even true. "The poor Patriots."
"Hey, who wants to bet that Rachel stabbed at least one of them?"
o0o
Bass is pretty sure she knows he's there, standing just beyond the treeline near the riverbank, but so far Charlie hasn't made any comment or thrown her blade at him.
She's dipping under the surface again, one heartbeat, two, three, and then she emerges again, droplets of water clinging to her hair and sun-kissed skin like diamonds glinting in the rising sun.
He should go, return to their camp and don't intrude on what clearly is private time, but something holds him back, this tight feeling that has been growing in his chest ever since she'd been captured. With a sigh, he sits down, brings his knees up to his chest and rests his elbows on his knees as he continues to keep watch over her.
When Charlie finally leaves the water, he fusses around with the stripe of leather around his arm and keeps his eyes averted until she's dressed. She walks towards him and for a second he thinks she won't acknlowledge him but she stops and holds out her hand. He takes it slowly, entwines his fingers with hers, the pressure of them warm and tight, and she hauls him up with a small smile on her lips.
o0o
The bounty hunter tugs at her bound wrists and glares up at Charlie before spitting at her feet. "I ain't gonna tell you shit, bitch."
A flash of steel and Bass' blade is at the woman's throat. "Answer her question."
The woman twists as best as she can, her furious expression melting into a seductive one, and she slowly licks her lips. "How about we ditch the kid and have a nice interrogation of our own?" The bounty hunter nods at Miles. "Maybe he wants to join, too? I'm sure we could come to an...agreement."
Raising one eyebrow, Miles chuckles low, a hint of teeth showing behind a dark smile, and Bass curls his lips in a cruel smirk. He twists one hand in the woman's hair, pulling her head back as he presses his blade against her skin. "You think we're running the show? Take a guess who caught you in the first place."
He lets go of her so abruptly that the bounty hunter almost falls over, her bound hands scraping over the ground as she scrambles to her knees again, her eyes going wide as she stares at Charlie. "What...?"
Charlie's expression doesn't change, no harsh grin or malicious smirk, only her eyes flashing in the firelight as she squats down in front of the woman, the point of her knife digging into the bounty hunter's collarbone.
"Let's try again. Where is the outpost?"
o0o
He's leaning against a tree trunk, his eyes scanning the burning horizon and the mountain range, when he hears Bass coming up behind him.
"If there's no trouble, we might get there in a few days."
"Yeah," Miles answers, closing his eyes briefly before he turns towards Bass. "I wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
"For everything."
Bass stares at him for a moment, then his eyes slide away and he shifts from foot to foot, shrugging slightly. "You're family, Miles. You, Charlie, hell, even Rachel and Gene. You might not see it that way anymore but I do."
A dull ache settles in Miles' chest, reminding him of what they once were, and he misses that, misses his best friend, his brother, despite what happened in the past, and he wants that back.
Clasping his shoulder tightly, Miles leans forward, and catches Bass' eyes. "You are family, Bass." He doesn't wait for Bass' reaction but moves past him back towards their camp. "But if you hurt Charlie, you're gonna wish the Patriots had gotten to you first."
He chances a look over his shoulder and his lips twitch upwards at Bass' expression, an odd mix between hope and horror.
o0o
They leave with the first rays of sunlight.
Two days later they arrive at the border.
- END -