A/N: So hello y'all. Like many of you, I need some Miles to carry me through the hiatus-thus I began this story. Because Revolution is so new, it may turn out that some of this story conflicts with what we learn about canon. Sorry! It's been quite some time since I've fanficed on this site, and therefore, it might take me a bit of time to get back up to speed with everything. I don't beta my work, but I am a professional writer, so I tend to catch most of my own errors. If you do see typos, I would appreciate a kindly-phrased heads up, as I like to fix them. Because writing is also my day job, just know I do this strictly for fun! Please, have fun too!

Note: The title of this story comes from T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland." Eventually, all will be revealed. Yeah, I went there.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. But you knew that, yes?

Shortly before 0900 the next morning, Miles rode up to where Jeremy was training new recruits. He dismounted his chestnut horse, Zeppelin, and handed the reigns to an orderly. The recruits looked terribly young; it made Miles a little sick. When had it come to this-snatching children before they could be corrupted by the rebels? Jeremy had his hands on his hips, barking orders. Bodies were awkwardly worming under barbed wire. At least one youngster's shirt was hopelessly caught, pinning him in the mud like a fish on a line. He looked like he couldn't be more than 15.

Miles addressed Jeremy confidentially. "He doesn't look old enough for this, Jeremy."

"He begged to enlist, sir," Jeremy responded. "You said rather than an age limit, you wanted dedication…"

"I know what I said," Miles responded impatiently. He was annoyed with himself, and he realized instantly that it wasn't because of this kid. No, the problem was the woman who was coming to meet him, and her perfect, brown sugar skin. He had thought about that skin all night. The recruits were lining up to freeze at attention, just as the very woman of his torment strode up, wearing her dusty cap from yesterday and a sleeveless shirt that revealed thin, muscled arms.

"Recruits, say hello to your general," Jeremy barked, furtively smiling at Miles, as he too caught sight of Nora. Jeremy had know Miles a long time. He didn't think he recalled Miles looking at a woman that way before.

"Morning, sir!' The recruits enthusiastically shouted.

Miles just nodded, irritation having unshakably set in. He folded his arms across his chest and felt the irresistible urge to do something cool to win Nora's favor. And then he hated himself for having such a juvenile impulse, especially in front of his own troops. While he had this minor scuffle with his subconscious, every eye remained on him.

"Good morning," he replied to the recruits several beats late in a low, gravely voice. He glanced over the line and noticed in the distance a number of soldiers being carried in on stretchers toward the medical tents. He had heard reports of a rebel attack on the city walls, but he didn't know how critical the wounded were. Something changed in him at the sight of them, and he stared stoically into the eyes of each of the young faces standing before him. He forgot about Nora for the time being.

"Do you know why we have this militia?" Miles said, magnetic energy coursing through his muscles. Each recruit stared at him like he was God.

Jeremy smiled. This was his favorite Miles. The orator. The inspired general. There was no doubt-Miles was a military genius.

Miles' face was set. "When the lights first went out, there was chaos-relentless violence and pain. Somebody had to bring order to disorder. That is what we, the militia, do here. We do not have the luxury of giving into hate or rage or fear. We are the force of calm in the republic. If you want to be a soldier, you will have to prove that you have discipline, self-control, honor. You must be good to earn the right to arbitrate, to kill only when necessary." Miles swallowed. Did he believe his own lies? He looked right at the young recruit, who now appeared to be trembling in fear. "We are humanity's best hope for survival." His pause was pregnant. "Carry on."

Jeremy said jovially, "Yes, sir! Two columns. Double quick to the training wall. Fall out!" He then lingered behind. "Like what you see, Miles?" he said under his breath, noticing that Miles had turned inadvertently to gaze at Nora.

"Better go with your men, Jeremy," Miles grumbled, scowling.

"I did mean the quality of the new recruits," Jeremy laughed.

"About my bag of gold…General," Nora said smiling, entering the conversation.

Miles lifted an eyebrow. Damn, he was falling for her.