Author's note: This is set after the events of 1x11. A bit of angst, no real plot, canon-divergent. This isn't well-written, I just wanted to get it down and I really love the relationship between Miles and Charlie. (Father-Daughter, just to be clear.) Personally, I don't recommend reading this, it's basically awful.
PS; Disclaimer: I don't own anything, especially the characters who I effectively butchered writing.
This was all his fault. Well, maybe not all, but it was mostly his fault. A large amount of it could easily be placed on Monroe, but he wasn't here to be held accountable, so Miles picked up the slack. He'd always been pretty good at that. With all he'd done, he had a lot of experience with guilt. Piling it on unnecessarily wasn't very difficult, even if it made breathing that much harder.
He was pretty sure he could see it in Nora's sympathetic gaze; she knew it was his fault. She had to. The worst part (well, aside from the obvious worst part) was that she wouldn't actually let herself blame him. She had to realize it, but with the circumstances as they were, she must've felt that she wasn't allowed to place the appropriate blame on him.
Eventually, Nora actually talked to him about it.
"It wasn't your fault."
That was her opening. Straight to the point, even if the point was a lie.
He'd heard what she said perfectly understood what she was talking about, but...
"What?" he asked anyway.
"Miles," she entreated. He turned away from her. "This wasn't your fault."
He bit his lip, clenching his fist in an attempt to turn his grief into anger. Anger was easier. It didn't expose as much as grief did. He shook his head and continued walking.
"We're not doing this."
He refused her pity. He didn't deserve even that. Everything he touched ended up ruined.
Despite all his efforts, Danny was dead. Because of Miles. He'd gotten the kid killed just as he'd gotten his own brother killed. Just as he'd thought he'd gotten Rachel killed. It was really only a matter of time before he got Charlie killed as well.
Charlie...
The poor kid had tried so hard to save her little brother. She'd done more than Miles had ever done for Ben. She'd struggled against bounty hunters, militia, thugs, friends, even Miles on multiple occasions. She'd fought so hard, only to have Miles ruin it.
Miles was going to ruin her.
He'd already ruined her mother.
His first instinct was to run. She'd be safer if he wasn't around. But he'd tried that before. Charlie had been convinced that she wanted him there with her, and he had believed it would be best. Now Danny was dead.
He wanted to leave her and her friends and family alone. He made plans to go, maybe even turn himself in to the Militia, try to take them down or die trying.
Nora tried to assure him that leaving wasn't the right thing to do. He knew she would stay with the Rebels, and probably Charlie. It was better that way. She would be safer away from him, and they would all be safer with Nora helping them. She tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen.
Apparently, she decided to tell Rachel.
He was greeted with a slap in the face.
Somehow, he didn't see it coming. When he saw her, he assumed she wouldn't want to talk to him, wouldn't even acknowledge him, but suddenly, his eyes were watering from the sting of her hand. He'd taken his fair share of hits before, but this was still painful. When his vision cleared, he was met by a livid looking mother.
He wasn't sure it was wise to speak at this point, so he waited for her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She demanded.
His eyes narrowed at her sharp tone, but he didn't answer. He wasn't sure they had the time to go over it all.
"After everything," she huffed out. "You're just going to leave her?"
The thought of Charlie being abandoned by anyone broke Miles' heart; whatever may have been left of it (what Charlie had slowly been mending back into the land of the living with her pure innocence). But he didn't view it as abandonment. He couldn't. He had to believe that he would be giving her a better chance at life. She would be better off.
"You're just going to leave her?" Rachel repeated, her voice quiet. "Like you left me?" Her tone was low, but she pinned him with her stare.
He hadn't meant to leave Rachel either. There was a body. Proof that she had left him first. He still wasn't sure he'd recovered from that.
"All I've done is make things worse," he mumbled, averting his eyes.
"Leaving won't make things any better," she said, insistently. "She loves you."
Miles clenched his jaw. He wanted to run away from this conversation. If there was a chance that Charlie had been able to love him before, it was only because of how tightly she clung to her innocence. If she'd known the truth, all the things that he'd done, especially to Rachel, she wouldn't have come anywhere near him. Now that he'd gotten her brother killed, there was no way she could bring herself to care about him.
Miles shook his head. "She never would have even known me, if not for her brother being captured, and that was my fault. And now, if it wasn't for me, Danny wouldn't be-" he couldn't bring himself to say it.
Dead.
It wouldn't have sounded foreign on his lips, but he didn't want the full sentence to hit her ears.
He sighed, shaking his head again. "I'm sorry," was all he managed to get out before he quickly turned and walked away. He didn't want her forgiveness. He didn't deserve it.
He was far enough away now to pretend he didn't hear her.
"It wasn't your fault."
Miles still hadn't been able to bring himself to leave yet. He had anything he would take with him mostly packed. All he would have to do is walk out.
But he didn't.
He had been actively avoiding Charlie, but that didn't work out for him either.
"Miles!"
She grabbed his arm to ensure he couldn't get away this time.
Not that he couldn't easily pull out of her grasp. But he wouldn't.
He wasn't sure whether she would yell at him, plead with him, or give him her blessing.
He definitely didn't expect her to throw her arms around him. He nearly jerked back at the unexpected contact, but her grip was strong, even as she sobbed into his shoulder. He wasn't sure what was happening or what he was supposed to do, so he went by instinct and wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm so sorry."
He was surprised to hear the words had come from her, not him.
He wanted to ask why, how she could be sorry, but he couldn't make himself speak past the lump in his throat. He waited.
Her explanation came out as half sobs, muffled by his shirt. "I made you come with me. I made you give everything up. I made you trek across the country to save him and I failed. I still lost him."
He felt close to joining her in tears. How could she blame herself? She'd done nothing wrong. But he knew why she felt like this, to an extent. He already knew she'd felt guilty over everything that had happened with Danny. She had told him it was her fault that he got captured, because she was supposed to look out for him. He was familiar with that kind of guilt. He was pretty sure she got it from the Matheson side of the family, though he didn't think Ben suffered from the misplaced guilt quite as much. Still, it killed Miles to hear her blame herself.
He shushed her, bracing the back of her head with his hand. "Charlie, none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? None of it." He spoke softly beside her ear. "You did nothing wrong. This is on me."
She pulled back to look up at him, her eyes bloodshot. "What are you talking about? You nearly died trying to protect him."
He couldn't look at her. "I hesitated. If I hadn't, I could've gotten the shot off."
As he tried to pull away, her grip on his side tightened, refusing to let him go. "If you hadn't hesitated, you would be dead."
"But Danny wouldn't!" He almost cringed at his own volume, but looked her in the eye for the first time in days, trying to get her to understand.
She just shook her head. "And what makes your life any less valuable than Danny's?"
He had thought it was pretty obvious, but going into all that would be too long of a conversation. "Because of who I am," he settled on.
She tilted her head. "And who are you?"
Who was he?
Many things.
A brother. A friend. A soldier. A leader. A traitor. A failure. A mess. A killer. A curse.
"I'm not good for you," he sighed.
Charlie offered a soft smile. "Miles, you traveled across several stares with a niece you barely know, to go save a nephew you know even less. You helped keep me alive, and you rescued my mom. More than once, you've offered your own life to save me, and you helped bring me back from the brink of death." She stared at him fiercely, determined to hold his gaze. "Me, Aaron, Nora, my mom, we're all alive because of you. Not to mention all the people you've saved since Chicago."
He wanted to remind her that those people had been imprisoned by the Militia that he helped to create in the first place, but he held back.
"You're working to fix your mistakes. Despite everything you've done in the past." She poked at his chest, right at his heart. "You're a hero." She embraced him again.
He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to be her hero. Ben had probably been her hero for a long time. Miles wished he could be one for her now, someone she could look up to. Someone to rely on. He wanted to believe he wasn't a curse, that he could be better.
Maybe he didn't have to leave. Maybe leaving would fix what he had broken. But maybe he could stay to try to help repair it.
Charlie didn't need someone to abandon her in that hopes that it would help. She needed someone to stay with her, to help her in whatever way they can. He wanted to stay.
"Please don't leave me." Charlie's quiet, almost whimpered whisper made the final decision.
He pulled her closer, whispering into her hair, "I won't."