Miles had never been in love before. He HAD loved people, his parents, Bass, his brother. But he had never felt that mythical feeling talked about so much in songs and poetry, that feeling that wars were fought over and tragedy filled plays were written about. He had been very fond of Emma, in lust with Rachel, slept his way through life with women of all types and backgrounds. But that emotion, love, had never been part of the equation. So he might be wrong, maybe this all consuming need for Charlie, this obsessive, dark, have to have it fuck the consequences need, wasn't love. But it was something he had never felt before, something he knew he would kill to satisfy. And maybe that's what love was. An emotion that trumped everything else like shame and morality. He knew he shouldn't want his niece, he knew that. The thing was, he just didn't fucking care. He wasn't known as the Butcher of Baltimore, the General of the Monroe Militia, for his morals. He earned those names because he was a man who knew what he wanted and took it. No questions asked, no long, sleepless nights wondering about heaven and hell. In that sense, this post blackout world was made fire men like him. Men like him and Bass.
If he were being honest, that might be what rankled the most. Not that she hadn't chosen him, but that she had chosen the man most like him in the entire world.
He had tried to act on it before, this need. Of course he had, he was not known for denying himself anything, pleasure and vice most of all. The first time had been when he'd seen her there, kneeling over the man she had been sent to kill in that skimpy dress from Drexel. It hasn't been the dress though, plastered to her prefect body, that got to him. No, it had been that smile on her face. That look of complete trust and gratitude and joy to see him. From the moment she had shot back into his life like a bullet, it had amazed him that whatever she felt, she expressed it completely. It didn't matter if she was fighting or loving or just living, she did it with every part of herself, gave every part of herself. When she stood up and wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face in his chest and whispering that she knew he would come for her, he couldn't hold back anymore. He pulled her face to his and looked in her eyes, hoping, daring her to take this plundge with him, for him. With his mouth a millimeter away from hers, feeling her breath wash over his lips, he felt serene. Like something that was always going to happen, supposed to happen, was finally clicking into place for him. Then she pulled back and laughed, a nervous sound more that one of mirth, and headed to the window, telling him they needed to find the others without looking at him.
That had been the closest he had come. There were other moments, where he hugged her for a few seconds longer that necessary, touched her face in a way an uncle wouldn't. He had been content with these moments, willing to live off of them until he could have what he wanted, be who he needed to be to her. Then she came back with Bass.
He looked at them now, over the fire, deciding how to remove this threat to his happiness. Trying not to show the rage he was feeling as his best friend soaked in the joy and satisfaction that should have been his, would be his. The content look on Bass's face made him clench his fists.
He felt a hand pulling at his and looked up into Rachel's cool eyes.
"Ready to turn in?"
He looked back at Charlie and Bass, quietly whispering to one another, them back at Rachel.
"Not quite yet, you go on ahead and I'll follow you in soon."
He saw the brief look of anger flare in her eyes before she smoothed her expression back into it's customary blankness.
"Okay, don't be too long."
He gave a noncommittal sound as she stood up and went to their tent, saying nothing to the others.
He didn't know why she wanted to play this game, pretending that everything between them was the way it used to be, the way she had always wanted it to be. She had married Ben after he had told her to, letting her know he had no intentions of settling down and that his brother was a good man, the only choice for her that would be and do all the things she needed that he wouldn't, couldn't. She had railed and screamed, telling him she loved him and he loved her, and that he couldn't just walk away from her, from her feelings for him, their love. He could and did, and the wedding went off without a hitch. When she showed up in Philadelphia all those years later, he knew why she had come.
Miles had never been very good at pretending. He felt what he felt, when he felt it. He wasn't like Rachel, able to wrap it all up in a box and shove it down, down deep until it clawed it's way back up in a storm of destruction. He knew she knew the score. She had now put Charlie firmly next to Bass in that special catagory of "People Who Took Miles from Rachel." He was constantly weary of the storm that he knew was going to come from her when that box of crazy fought its way back up.
His focus came crashing back to the present when he heard Charlie's laugh. Bass was standing over her, pulling on her hands to help her up.
"Well, we're off to bed" Charlie said, throwing another log on the fire. She looked at Aaron "wake me when it my turn for watch."
"Will do" was his only reply. He still didn't understand or approve of Charlie's 'Monroe Thing', as he called it, and made certain everyone knew it.
"Night, Miles" she called as she tugged on Bass's hand. He looked up as they walked past, making eye contact with his 'friend'.
"Don't stay up late stuck in your head Miles, it's not good for you." Bass directed at him.
He just started back at him, an entire conversation happening in the span of a few heartbeats. Charlie tugged on the hand still holding hers and their eye contact broke, ending the tense moment. "Night" he grunted, more for Charlie's benefit than anything else.
