Chapter 2: Haunted By Dreams

Aaron Pittman watches Charlie as she sleeps on the other side of a dying fire. His brow furrows with worry. He knows her well enough to read the signs, and all day he's been dreading this moment – the return of the bad dream that has haunted her sleep for years. Charlie begins to groan, her arms thrashing. He finds the canteen, keeping it ready.

The first time he'd witnessed her having this nightmare; Aaron had tried to wake her. She'd only been a child, but she had panicked and struggled and nearly broken his arm before finally coming to. Now, he just watches sadly. He knows the rhythm of the dream, and because she's told him how it all happened, he even knows approximately what she sees in the darkness of her subconscious.

It is always the same.

Charlie is thirteen again. She walks toward home, a dead rabbit dangling from one fist, her new bow perched jauntily on the opposite shoulder. She is smiling. The air is cool. The birds are singing. When she hears the new sounds at first, she isn't scared or worried.

She is curious. That is all.

As she gets closer to the home she shares with her parents and younger brother, the sounds become more distinct, and Charlie's curiosity gives way to a gnawing dread. She drops the rabbit and moves stealthily through the small orchard, breaking into a run toward the house when she sees that the coast is clear.

She finds her father on the porch, a bullet hole in his chest, his eyes vacant. Charlie bites her hand to keep the scream inside. She lets up a little when she tastes the warm copper of her own blood. The sounds from inside the house are louder now and she can make out the voice of her mother – clearly in distress. Charlie kneels beside her father's body, pressing her palm to the side of his face. "Love you Daddy." She whispers before standing and slowly opening the screen door that leads into the kitchen.

Danny is on the kitchen floor, his little Bowie knife still clutched in one small hand, but the hand isn't moving. She doesn't even need to get closer to know it will never move again. There is far too much blood. She chokes back crushing terror and grief, silently promising her brother she'll come back to say goodbye. For now, she needs to help her mom.

Charlie edges slowly down the hallway. The sounds intermixed with her mother's cries are strange and awful. She peeks around the door frame and sees the men who have ruined her family in the time it took her to hunt one rabbit.

There are four intruders. One is on the floor behind the sofa. All she can see are his legs. The other three are watching him and laughing. She does not recognize their faces, but she can tell they are all war clan members.

Charlie readies her bow, hoping to shoot at least one of them. Charlie knows it will mean her death as well, but she doesn't care. She's pulling back to fire an arrow when the guy who had been on the floor, suddenly stands. The others are still laughing. They leave then, never even noticing the young girl hidden in the shadows of the doorway.

Charlie lowers the bow as the door slams shut. She moves around the sofa to her mother who is crumpled on the floor - beaten and bloody. Her clothes are torn and hanging oddly from her body. A gaping knife wound in her side oozes blood. Rachel looks up at her daughter with panic in her eyes.

"It's okay Mom. They left. I'll take care of you." Charlie is sobbing now.

Rachel is weak but shakes her head. "No. Losing too much blood." Rachel rasps out, "Go to Miles. Tell him Andover did this. Andover. Miles will take care of – "

"What Mom? Uncle Miles will take care of what?" Charlie frantically searches her mom's face for signs of life, but they are gone. She curls next to her mother's body and cries. She will have to be strong. She knows this, but first she has to be a little girl who just lost her whole family...

The door bangs open and even though Charlie is dreaming, she sees this for what it is – a new twist to an old nightmare. Slowly Charlie stands. She isn't thirteen anymore. She is an adult and she stands tall, facing the door. He is here in her childhood home - the man from the village street – the man from yesterday. His blue eyes blaze with fury, "How could you kill my son? You know what it's like to lose your family. Why would you take mine?" He steps closer and she sees the gun in his hand and his eyes are full of hate and revenge as he points it at her and pulls on the trigger, and then –

Charlie wakes in a panic, sitting bolt upright – her eyes wide. She searches the camp site and her heartbeat slows only when she sees Aaron. He's got that look that she hates, the one that is full of pity. She looks away but takes the outstretched canteen, gulping lukewarm water. She hates that pity look, but having Aaron around is a balm to her soul. He has been her rock ever since she lost her family.

He is her family now.

Slowly, she begins to calm down. She lies back on her bedroll and stares into the night sky.

Aaron pats her awkwardly on the shoulder, "It's gonna be okay, Charlie."

"No, I don't think it is." She whispers softly. "It's never going to be okay." She waits until she hears him settle into his spot under a nearby tree before closing her eyes again.

President Miles Matheson is reviewing the latest correspondence from Foster in Georgia. He doesn't bother looking up when the door opens. He knows his visitor is his second in command - Jeremy Baker just from the sound of his boots on the polished wood floor. "What?" Miles asks.

"Thought you should know, Sir – Connor Bennett was killed yesterday."

This gets the President's full attention. He sets the letter down and looks up at Baker, "Where was Bass?" Miles sounds tired. These last six months have been awful for the Republic. Rebel uprisings have become more frequent. He has a lot on his mind.

"At his son's side when it happened. He's vowing revenge and he wants some of your men to go after the killer."

Miles leans back in his chair now, staring out the window. "Revenge." He says softly. "I don't know that we can spare men for a wild goose chase, Baker."

"It might not be such a wild goose chase, Sir."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Bass caught a glimpse of Connor's killer. Said he'd know her again anywhere…gave a detailed description."

"Her?" Miles asks. "You mean Bass saw…?"

"Yeah.

"Shit." Miles stands and begins to pace. "I suppose we can send a search party. Don't want Bass on it though. If I know him, he's going to be unhinged."

"You know him well." Baker mutters.

Miles notes something new in his friend's voice, "He's here?"

"Waiting outside the front entrance."

Miles nods slowly, "Send him in."

Miles sucks in a deep breath when his best friend walks in. They had met just a week before for a poker game but this is not the same Bass Monroe who had won big that night. The change Miles sees in Monroe today is staggering. Bass looks haggard. He clearly hasn't slept or bathed. His hair is sticking out oddly and his eyes have a crazed look that worries Miles more than anything else.

"I just heard about Connor, Bass. I'm sorry."

Bass nods, "I need some guys, Miles. I have to find her."

"You're sure it's a woman?"

"Yeah. I saw her. She's young, beautiful even. I'd know her anywhere. I asked around and a few people had seen her around town. She travels with someone. I didn't see him myself, but I've heard he's a fat guy with black glasses. I think they should be easy to find."

Miles watches, growing more worried with each passing moment. His friend can't focus, and is clearly itching to get on the move. "Bass? Have you slept at all?"

"No. I can't…. no."

"You need to rest." He turns to Baker, "Have Helga get a room ready for Bass." Miles turns back to Monroe, "You are in no condition to do anything at all. Get cleaned up. Sleep. Eat a good meal. Then we can discuss sending a search party in the morning."

"I don't want to discuss it tomorrow. I want to discuss it now."

Miles runs a hand through his hair, "No, Bass. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Bass is going to object but sees the look in Miles's eyes, and he finds that he's just too damn tired to argue. Miles is right. He needs some sleep. "Fine."

Hours later, Bass is clean and clothed. He's lying on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. He'd eaten a bowl of venison stew and several thick slices of bread. Bass feels better physically, though he's still dog tired. Even exhausted, he can't stop the endless barrage of thoughts which plague him.

Connor lying dead in the street is the image that haunts him the most, but being here in Philly again also brings up memories. These aren't bad ones exactly. He thinks about how different life would be if he'd taken up Miles's offer years ago to build and lead the Republic as a team.

Bass doesn't regret his decision to step aside and let Miles run things alone. Shelly's death had broken him, and in the bloody days that had followed, Bass had become a different person. The grief he'd suffered had been a game changer for Monroe. In the aftermath – where he'd lead an attack on a nearby camp and slaughtered the people there – he'd seen in himself a darkness that he had hoped to never see again.

The face of the girl with the bow flashes through his mind and he feels the darkness returning. He shakes his head in attempt to clear his thoughts of her.

The decision to let Miles create the Republic solo, had been a good one, and Bass has been happy with his quiet life as a small town sheriff. He and Miles have maintained a close friendship and they work together from time to time on local issues. This partnership has served both of the old friends well, and the Republic has flourished – until recently.

These days, the world is a different place. Resistance groups have begun to form against the Republic and the Militia has had to wield more power than they had done previously just to keep the peace. Bass and Miles have shared their concerns about the direction the Republic is headed in if these Rebels win.

Yesterday Bass had been worried about his nation's future. Today all he cares about is revenge.

Bass closes his eyes, finally unable to fight the wave of exhaustion that overwhelms him.

And he dreams.

Shelly is beautiful with her rounded belly and her big smile. He loves running his fingers through her hair as they discuss baby names late into the night. He loves the feel of her snuggled in his arms. He loves everything about her.

They are excited to start a family. She's convinced the baby is a girl and wants to name her Alice. He is just as convinced it's a boy and wants their son to be named Gabe.

They are laughing and kissing and then the scene changes and she is covered with blood, lying motionless in the tent where she'd died along with their tiny daughter.

He wails at the sight of their lifeless bodies.

He stares at his hands, covered in their blood.

The scene changes again and it's Connor who is laughing with him. Bass wraps an arm around his son's shoulders, feeling hopeful for the future. He feels a surge of love for his son and then the arrow sinks into Connor's heart and the laughter fades and again there is blood – so much blood.

Bass screams into the sky as he holds his dead son.

Then the two scenes merge and he is sitting on the floor of the tent with Shelly on the cot behind him. At his feet lie his dead children.

He hears someone enter the tent. He looks up, dazed and broken, to see the girl who had killed Connor. Her hair hangs long and loose around her shoulders. Her blue eyes are haunted and sad. "I'm sorry." She says.

"You aren't sorry enough. Not yet." He answers as the anger erupts.

She nods in agreement and then disappears. He tries to stand but he keeps slipping in the blood.

So much blood.

Bass wakes with a jerk and reaches for the bottle of whiskey that Baker had thoughtfully left for him. He drinks it all before finally succumbing to a blessedly dreamless sleep.

Miles Matheson is in his office again when Baker comes by. "He's asleep, finally." Baker says.

"Good."

"Are you going to tell him the truth?"

"Not yet. He is in no shape for the truth right now. It would break him."

Baker cocks an eyebrow. "By the looks of things, that ship has sailed, Sir."

"Yeah, I know." Miles rubs at his eyes. He needs sleep too. "Fuck." Miles mutters. Standing, he begins to pace. "Vengeful Bass will be no good to a search party, especially one who is looking for his son's killer."

"So, what do you have in mind?" Baker asks.

"Well, where vengeful Bass could be useful is on the battlefield. I'll make a deal with him. I'll take care of this girl he wants to find and cover his job in the village. He can take care of that bullshit in Illinois, and work out some aggression. Two birds,one stone."

"He'll go for it?" Baker is skeptical.

"Oh, hell no - not at first. He has a hard time saying no to me though. I'll use that here. When Bass wakes up, let's tell him the search party is going after Connor's killer and that while they are searching, he can help us by heading up a Militia battalion. We'll send him to Chicago. I don't want him around here right now, in case there is still a threat."

"All right then. Sounds like you have it all figured out."

Miles sadly shakes his head, "Not even close Baker. Not even close."

Charlie and Aaron have acquired a wagon and are heading west. "Where are we going?" Aaron asks.

She stares straight ahead as the wind blows her hair wildly, her chin a stubborn line. Pushing some of the hair from her eyes, she says, "Chicago, I guess. We'll find Adam. He always has more bounties than he can hunt. We'll make a little money and then move on."

Aaron is worried for his friend. She is more reserved than usual. Her eyes are haunted. He knows she felt obligated to kill that guy, but he can also tell she's now not sure it was the right decision. She's been hunting bounties for three years, and she's good at it. The killing though…that's new and he's glad it's not so easy. Aaron nods, "Chicago it is."

The truth is he'll follow her anywhere and she knows this. No matter what happens, he will never leave her.

"Chicago." She says again, her mind somewhere else entirely.

The next morning dawns and Miles has filled his best friend in on the new plan.

"You want me to fucking go to Chicago when my kid's killer is on the loose here? I want to join the search party!" Bass is irate.

Miles shakes his head firmly, "You know that's a bad idea. This is personal to you, and it should be. I get it. Your kid is dead and you want revenge. If we want to find this killer though, my men need to be able to search objectively. That can't happen if you're there."

Bass starts to retort but Miles cuts him off. "I've already lined up a guy to fill in for you in the Sheriff's office. This gig with the militia will get you a change of pace and I think you need that right now. When you get back, if they haven't found your mystery killer, you can join them in the search then."

Bass knows when he can win an argument with his best friend. This isn't one of those times. "Chicago?" he asks with a resigned frown.

"Chicago."

A/N: Another chap will be up in a couple days. That's where the cat and mouse will begin… Comment if you have a minute.