Chapter three! I have one more chapter to go then this is finished and I'm planning on posting that tomorrow mid-afternoon (in UK) so that'll be late-ish morning in America? I don't know Eastern times :P. Either way it's up and complete before the next episode - as promised!
This chapter has a tidgey bit more Charloe in it, right at the very end, but no actual physical interaction because this isn't a ship fic - so just skip over those lines if it's not your cuppa tea ;).
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you may recognize. Any relation to my version of the characters and real life persons is purely coincidental. There is no copyright infringement intended.
- Here We Go Again: Part Three -
Charlie's head was fuzzy, she could hear the quiet murmur of voices but they were so garbled it sounded like she was underwater. She tried to open her eyes but everything was burry, the shapes spinning around her. Her head pounded and her stomach cramped. She slammed her eyes closed again and tried to push herself up but everything was shaking and her elbows gave way, she collapsed onto the bed. What the hell happened?
'Charlie?' A familiar hand gripped her own and squeezed. She peered her eyes open again, grateful that only the edges of her vision were blurry. No sitting up on her own for the moment then. She blinked and Bass' face appeared in her line of vision. 'You sure do like your sleep.' He was grinning but his eyes were scanning her face intently, looking for signs of distress.
'What-?' She would have tried for more but her voice was a croaky whisper, barely audible and she winced at the forced wheezed sound. Why had Bass so worried about her? Why could she barely move? Scratch that, someone just tell her what the fuck happened.
Bass seemed to understand the frustration she was feeling. He knowingly smirked, disappearing out of her vision for a second though she could still hear him as he spoke from somewhere off to her left. He was rooting through something, she could hear the objects knocking together as he pushed them out the way. 'It's annoying isn't it? Knowing while you've been out the world kept on going without you but you-' His face reappeared above her. '-just can't remember why you were unconscious.'
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was talking about the time her mother had drugged him, mocking the appearance of death so that they could get him away from the patriots. Though she couldn't help wonder how many times he had found himself in similar situations to this. How many times had he awoken when leading the Republic, or even before that, with only Miles' face for explanation. How had he not gotten sick of seeing his face? There would have been a chuckle there somewhere but her chest hurt and the pain just wasn't worth the laugh. That sucked. She'd been in this situation quite a few times herself. Back when she was fighting with Miles, when they'd been under Philly and the bullet had grazed her head. Or when the Bell Tower had collapsed on top of her - she'd had no one then, totally alone. She'd had awoken to Bass before now, when she had been drugged and nearly gang-raped in that bar. No matter how many times had she found herself unconscious, it seemed it was never something you got used to. Waking up from the blackness, everything blurry and unfamiliar, not knowing what happened.
Bass watched her carefully, his eyes passing over her face. 'Well, you seem a little distracted.' His voice was light and teasing and Charlie took that as a good sign. Everything seemed okay, he seemed okay. Was Gould dead? He was still staring at her so she scowled at him, deciding she was sick of staring at his stupid face and the ceiling. She struggled to sit up, his arms immediately circled her and she grudgingly let him help her. He only let her go once he was sure she could sit up on her own. He passed her a flask, pushing it into her hands, eyes silently telling her to drink. He then stepped back, sweeping his arms out in gesture. 'Welcome back to the land of the living.' Charlie blinked at the sudden change in demeanour, he smirked at her. 'Now get on your feet already. I'm bored and Miles is gonna kill me.'
She wasn't used to seeing this side of Bass. He seemed a lot less troubled, almost lighter on his feet and by the look on his face a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked a lot like the Bass she'd imagined when Miles – on the rare occasions – talked about their time growing up together. Or the Bass she had caught glimpses of when he was sitting in a corner with Miles, talking quietly. The genuine quirk of the lips, the blue eyes brighter and not burdened with loss. When had she become privy to such moments?
She shook her head, focusing her thoughts. The flask was still tightly gripped in her hands, she took a swig to distract herself and the cool water immediately soothed her throat. She quickly took another three pulls before disguarding the empty flask on the cot next to her. She swallowed, closing her eyes in relief when it was pain free. 'How long was I out?' The sentence, again, reminded her of the last time she'd woken up with only Bass for company. 'What happened… is Gould dead?'
Bass nodded, his face falling serious again. His eyes burned into hers as he spoke. 'He shot you… I killed him.' Charlie frowned, eyes flying down to her stomach. She lifted up her tank a little, enough to see the bandage peeking out from behind her top. She was shot? She pulled a face as she moved a little and the wound stretched, ouch. Bass laughed at her. 'First time? Hurts like a bitch doesn't it?'
She rolled her eyes and ignored him. Deciding not to tell him about the bullet to the head incident, a few inches to the left and she wouldn't be here now. 'Where are we?' She looked around; the dirty green walls of the tent seemed familiar, she just couldn't place it.
Bass followed her gaze, sweeping the area before refocusing on her. 'Infirmary.' At her frown he cracked an amused smile. 'An infirmary. You know, a place where you take the injured-'
If he was within arms-reach she could have pushed him off the bed, but he wasn't and she wasn't strong enough to get up. So she settled for an irritated Matheson glare. He smirked in retaliation. 'I know what an infirmary is.' The unaired idiot was clear to the both of them, she didn't need to say it. 'How did I get here?'
'You were that out of it you were seeing stars. We brought you here.' She turned towards the new voice as it entered the tent, the entrance flaps fluttering in the light breeze as he stepped through. 'How you feelin' Matheson?' He dipped his hat and walked towards her bed. She didn't miss the fact he avoided Bass as he approached her, giving him a wide berth. What had Bass done now?
She shot a mocking smile at him as he reached the bed. 'Just peachy.' Even she picked up on how like Miles that sounded. She scrunched her nose up, glancing at Bass from the corner of her eye, he was grinning at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. 'Ready to get moving.' She stretched her legs out, wincing at the cramp. How long had she been asleep? 'Which reminds me-' she shot a pointed glance at Bass. '-you never told me how long I was out for.'
Bass remained silent, shrugging. Cowboy Joe looked at her, voice quiet when he spoke. Charlie wondered how much he knew, did he know that if they weren't back within a week then Miles would be out looking for them? He wasn't one to wait around. As mentioned earlier, the Matheson's were impatient people. Miles more than most. ''Bout two days.'
Fuck. Now she understood why Bass was staying so quiet. Charlie's eyes widened and she immediately went to jump up. Bass reacted and pushed her back onto the bed. She glared at him. 'What are you doing?' She struggled against his grip trying to stand up. He kept his hands on her shoulders, firmly pressing her down and between her weakened state and the shoots of pain she wasn't going anywhere unless he let up. 'We have to get moving.' She sent him an irritated glower, did they really want Miles finding her wounded and shot in the middle of a war clan's camp? The answer to that was clear: no.
'You're not fit to travel.' Bass shook his head at her death glare. 'I know you want to be stubborn and tough it out to prove you can, but I don't want you collapsing on me.' He matched her glare, eyes intense and voice firm. 'You're no good dead.' He shrugged, letting his hands loosen a little. But he remained where he was, by her side. 'We'll deal with Miles if he shows.'
She knew he was right. She was still tired, her eyes were barely open and her stomach was killing her. He was only being truthful, she wouldn't be any good dead. Not that she was afraid of dying, sometimes when she was alone and stewing in her thoughts she found she was clinging to the familiar hell in this life because she didn't want to face an unfamiliar one in the next. It was only the fear of what would happen here; in this bloody world filled with fighting, the desperate struggle for survival and the stench of death, which frightened her. What would happen to Miles? Would he lose himself again, fall down that hole he was trying to avoid, let the earth swallow him whole? What about her mom? Would her death result in a lapse back to that catatonic state? Even Bass; what would another Matheson leaving him – this time permanently – do to him?
She was so distracted that she hadn't realised Bass was talking. He was currently waving a hand in front of her face. 'Charlotte.' She blinked at him, trying to focus and force away the haze in her mind. 'You do that often?'
He was frowning now. Not the usual obvious what am I missing frown or his something's wrong frown – she wondered when she'd become able to determine which frown was which and decided that was a thought to store away for later – but a small puckered line on his forehead, his eyes tightened a little. She'd never seen this one before but it was eerily similar to Miles' frown whenever he was concerned he was pushing her too far. Usually when he found her after a fight, covered in blood and out of breath after the adrenaline rush had worn off. Though Miles had been using the frown less and less frequently, in fact she couldn't remember the last time he'd used it. At first she hadn't minded so much, taking it as a sign that he was finally seeing her as a capable woman who could take care of herself and not the young innocent girl that once needed his protection. But seeing it on Bass' face – even if it wasn't for the same reasons – had her realising how much she longed for Miles' concern again, he had been pulling further and further away from her after discovering her mother was still alive. Despite the greeting when she'd arrived back in town, she hadn't really had a moment with him. She understood he cared about her mom, it was clear they had a past, she just didn't understand why Miles had to leave her to be with Rachel. It hurt more than she realised, almost like a physical punch to the gut, but she guessed that could be because had been injured in the stomach. If Miles showed up, would she have the courage to demand answers? She missed him, missed their time on the road together. She wished he'd come with them.
Bass was still watching her, his expression hadn't changed and his heated stare bored into her, she stared back unable to look away. She wondered what he saw there, how far had their silent communication developed? Could he tell what she was thinking just by facial expressions? She could read his frowns, how far did that go? She shook her head to clear her thoughts, scrambling to remember what he had asked her and inwardly thanked her stars when she didn't have to ask him to repeat. 'Do what often?'
It was less than a second before he answered, always having a retort or an answer prepared. It was no wonder he won all his fights, he could tell a person's move before they even knew what they were doing. 'Go off into that broody Matheson head of yours.' He cocked an eyebrow, drawing her attention back to him.
She looked at him for a minute before shrugging a shoulder, turn away and staring at the tent wall behind his shoulder. 'I like to think.' She mumbled.
'It's not thinking it's festering, and look where it got Miles.' He was smirking, but she could tell he was being serious. His eyes were slightly narrowed and his jaw was set as he stared at her. Miles was known for drinking his way through life, even giving himself title of town drunk back in Willoughby. – She didn't know if that was done on purpose or not, you never really did with Miles. His thoughts drove him to dark places and he drank to drive them away. Charlie used to berate him for it, now she often found herself sharing the bottle… or buying her own. She wasn't sure if it was his influence or if being a fully functioning alcoholic was simply in their blood. Either way it was dangerous path, yet the comfort of the bottle was too comforting to leave. The thought of spending every waking minute of every day in her thoughts, letting them torment and torture her with everything that's happened and everything she's done and everything she's going to do – all the people she's killed and bodies she'd left to rot, was horrifying. Nope, that wasn't happening anytime soon.
She decided to play him at his own game and matched his stare with one of her own, lifting her head a little in defiance. 'You're no better.' She gestured with a tilt of head at the bottle of whiskey she knew was hidden on the inside of his leather jacket - briefly she wondered when he'd gotten that back - and raised an eyebrow. They both knew he drank, almost as much as Miles, it was the source of comfort as he came to terms with all the horrors he'd caused as president and leader of the militia, but it was unspoken territory. Everyone knew about Miles' problem, and were starting to grasp the habits of the younger Matheson, but Bass was never mentioned. Despite herself and Miles she wondered who would care if he drank himself to death… not Rachel or Gene that was for sure.
She could see all the unspoken words flicker over Bass' face as he stared at her. Mine and Miles' actions will never be forgivable. You're not as lost as us yet. But he eyed her carefully, eyes briefly landing on her fresh bandaged bullet wound and then tracing the few visible scars on her arms and settled on her knife that was lying on the makeshift table next to the cot. He was still staring at it when he spoke, voice somber. 'We're pretty messed up.'
She couldn't help the small laugh that spilled from between her lips and she was nodding before she knew she was doing so. 'Yeah we are.'
He turned and grinned at her, if a little forced, and reached into his inside jacket pocket revealing the whiskey she knew he had there. 'Here.' He passed it to her. 'Should help-'
'-with the pain.' She cut in, raising an eyebrow and taking the whiskey from him. 'How do you think I got into the stuff in the first place?' She took a swig, letting it swirl in her mouth for a minute before swallowing, she closed her eyes against the familiar burn.
He laughed at her expression. 'The beauty of post blackout medication.'
She smirked, taking another mouthful before passing it back to him. She'd drink it all otherwise and she needed a clear head for now. He took it from her, lifting it to his own lips first before stuffing it back into his jacket. She could already feel a slight numbing sensation and it was proving immediate relief, leaving her with small tingles. It was no way near enough to inhabit her senses, but just enough to temper the pain. 'So, how long till I can travel in your expert opinion?' Her voice was sarcastic, she was teasing but it was an important question. How long would they have to hang around for? She really did want to get moving, she was already sick of staring at the same dirty green tent walls.
'A day at least.'
'Woo. Fantastic.' She sighed, resisting the urge to flop back down onto the cot like an irritated teenager. That wouldn't do her stomach any good. 'I suppose you'd prefer to wait two.' It wasn't a question and it went unanswered, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to wait. She shook her head. 'I'll give a day. That's it.' Her voice was final. She definitely wasn't in the mood for a heated argument, arguing with Bass was like two brick walls with steel reinforcements trying to shove against each other. Neither one gave and someone had to become the buffer. This time she had a sneaky suspicion it'd be Duncan… so she'd rather to avoid it altogether.
Luckily Bass knew when and when not to pick an argument with her and nodded. Before he could speak though someone cleared their throat. Charlie had forgotten Joe was even standing there. She carefully turned her body to face him and raised an eyebrow, why was he here? 'Glad you've come to your senses Matheson and it's good to see you up. But I wasn't here for a social call.' He looked at Bass. 'Boss needs ya. Better hightail it over there before she grows impatient.'
Bass nodded. 'Right.' He pulled the whiskey from his jacket and placed it on the table next to her knife. Charlie withheld a smile at the thoughtful gesture, nodding at him. 'Stay in bed,' was his way of saying goodbye. He turned on his heel and walked towards the entrance. 'Keep an eye on her Joe.' He called over his shoulder as he sauntered out the tent. If his jacket was in his hands she imagined he'd have it slung over his shoulder… he was probably wearing it to cover his injuries. She wondered how bad they were, had anyone checked him over? She knew how dangerous it was for a wound to get infected, it wasn't that long ago Miles had nearly died. She shuddered at the thought, shoving it to the back of her mind and decided she'd ask someone about Bass later.
Joe was staring at her, eyes narrowed, hat still tilted down. He had procured a toothpick from somewhere and was chewing on the end. She hadn't seen him on a horse yet, but with a whip and maybe Bass' leather jacket she could imagine him being the post-blackout version of Indiana Jones. She may not have seen the films, but through Aaron and reading she knew who Indiana was. The adventures as he travelled across the world kicking ass fascinated her as a child. She wondered what she would think if she read them now… probably think they were stupid.
She was becoming uncomfortable with the way he was staring at her. 'What?' She pulled her feet back onto the cot, crossing them and wishing she had a headboard, or a solid wall to lean against. Though she wasn't going show how exhausted she was, she'd just wait till Joe had cleared off before she collapsed.
'Monroe has adopted your nickname.'
Charlie let out a small surprised snort, and coughed back the following chuckle. That's why Joe was avoiding Bass like the plague, because he was using her nickname? She wanted to retort but thought she'd probably better not rile him up more; the whole thing was her fault after all. 'Have you told him your real name?'
He shook his head. 'None of his business.'
She could tell he hadn't taken a liking to Bass, then again not many really did, the stigma attached to him wasn't great. He was charming, smart and undeniably witty which had rewarded him with the women but he was dangerous, impulsive and often uncontrollable. Those who knew or knew of him had learned not to get too close. Though his presence was hard to ignore, he walked into a room like he owned it, sauntering around with his infuriating smirk that was all Bass. 'Then don't moan about it, he has to call you something.' She shrugged.
'My names Julian.' He was standing with his arms crossed now, leaning against a wooden pole supporting the tent near the cot. 'Julian Rhoades. Not many people know that Matheson.'
'Then I suppose it's nice to meet you Rhoades.' She only used his surname because he used hers. She didn't mind her surname being used but Charlie wasn't that unappealing to use once in a while. 'What does Duncan want with Bass?'
The question had obviously been unexpected because Julian blinked, pushing himself off the beam with his arms still crossed. The name did suit him Charlie decided; Cowboy Julian still had a ring to it. It kind of sounded better than Joe. 'Why you asking?' The question was suspicious and Charlie was immediately on guard, she sat up straighter. 'Maybe Duncan just wants a little quality time with that precious Monroe of yours.'
Her immediate reaction was a ripple of repulsion and disgust surging through her body and she turned her lip up; not because he had just paired her with Bass – which was another thought for later – but at the imagery of Duncan luring Bass away from her so she could have quality time. 'He isn't mine.' The phrase spilled from her lips, but here was a lot less conviction than normal. Maybe she was just tired of it all, she'd deal with it later. Right now she needed to sleep, her mind was still a little foggy and her eyes were sore and eyelids heavy, but despite what she needed what she wanted was to find Bass, just to check he wasn't…wasn't what? Distracted. That was it, she had to make sure he wasn't distracted, it still wasn't really clear who they could trust and they had to keep on guard.
'Does that mean you belong to him then?'
She frowned at him in confusion, what was he talking about? 'I don't belong to anyone.'
He pointed at her wrist, which was lying limp over her knees. Her fingers twitched as she looked down at the ringed M forever branded onto her skin. 'I'd say that says something different.'
She pulled her wrist away, turning it over and stuffing it behind her back. She shot him a glare. 'That's none of your business.'
'So you are his?' He raised his hat a little, the twitch of lips told her he was playing her, seeing how far he could push her. It was a dangerous game but she knew why he was doing it, she'd done it with Bass – calling him sociopathic and delusional – the name Matheson was fascinating, almost as much as Monroe. Miles hadn't exactly given their name a good reputation.
She glared at him, deciding to put an end to his little game now; last year she would have steeled herself and battled him through it but she hadn't been very stable recently, it was best not to push it. 'I was rescuing a kid from a conscription ship, pissed off the soldiers and this was my punishment.' She showed him the brand. 'Hurt like hell… he's dead now though.' She raised an eyebrow, knowing the pragmatics of that statement. She'd killed him. In actual fact it had been one of the first times she'd killed without needing too, Miles could have handled it, but the all-consuming rage that had filled her he stood on that deck took over and she knew she had to take him down. He needed to die, by her hand.
'Yet here you are, fighting on the same side as the great General Monroe.'
She wondered why he was grilling her, she wasn't very prepared for it. Her limbs ached and her stomach was still throbbing. She eyed the whiskey by her bed but avoided it for now. Did Bass know, have some inkling that Julian was here to cross-examine her? Did Duncan not trust her now? She sighed, letting it drag out through her lips. 'Look, I know when to pick my battles. And right now that's against the patriots, they're the bad guys. They bombed Philly and Atlanta, infected my town with illness and claimed they were there to fix it.' She tightened her hands as the image of trying to force oxygen down to her grandpa's lungs to make him breathe filled her mind. She willed it away and gritted her teeth. 'They're manipulative liars, more dangerous than anything we've come across. And they need to be taken out.'
He took a few steps towards her, unfolding his arms. 'You're talking about starting a war.'
She nodded, recognising the same exact words she'd relayed to Miles and Bass little over a week ago. Her opinion had changed a lot since then. 'It's what Bass and Miles want.'
'And you just go with it? Follow their orders? The great Generals Matheson and Monroe? Because that worked out so well last time.' She had a feeling he wasn't just following Duncan's orders here, he was letting his own emotions cloud his thinking.
She felt a little sorry for him, she knew the feeling. Yet, he didn't have the whole picture, he was watching and judging through a looking glass and it was cutting off the edges. 'They were successful the last time. It was only after Miles left that Bass started to lose control of the Republic.' She shook her head. 'Plus, we're not planning on starting a Republic. It will be different this time.'
'They hadn't set out to start one either.' He shrugged.
What that was this about? She remembered Duncan warning her about Bass restarting the Republic, were they trying to figure out if it was a real possibility? Why were they coming to her? They could just ask Bass, he would be the better option for information. Unless, unless they thought she was in on it. She closed her eyes a little, did they know nothing? She was the last person Bass would tell if he were thinking about restarting it. It was the Republic that had killed nearly her entire family. 'I don't know anything.' She sighed, resigned.
He frowned. 'What are you talking about?'
She shook her head. 'There's no point trying in trying to be discreet. You want to know if Bass wants to restart the Republic, and you want to know if I know anything about it.'
He opened his mouth to deny it but snapped it closed when she raised an eyebrow and sent him a small knowing tilt of her lips. He leaned back on his heels and ran a hand over his face. 'Look, I'm sorry. Duncan just wants to know.'
'I'm not entitled to such privy secrets.' She snarked, before dropping her head tracing the woven threads on the blanket with her eyes. 'He wouldn't dare involve me. He knows I'd fight him every step of the way.' Julian remained quiet, after a moment she looked up to find him regarding her carefully. His eyes shifted away when she caught them. 'What?'
'Nothing.' He shook his head. 'It's just that you're a Matheson. It's in your blood.'
She was too tired to ask him what the hell he was on about. She just wanted to sleep, but her body wouldn't let her, not until she knew where Bass was. Then she could sleep. 'Just tell me where Bass is.' She pushed herself up.
He shook his head. 'I know you risked a lot to save him Matheson. But right now Duncan has asked to be alone with him.' The implications in that statement were clear and Charlie refrained from shuddering. 'Rest up. Tomorrow you'll be on the road.'
'Because you're not willing to help us?' She narrowed her eyes. 'Am I right? Not without the money.'
'It's not our fight. We helped you get Monroe back, now we're out.'
'And what happens when the patriots come storming in here? Guns blazing.' She looked around, she could hear the sound of bustling and voices outside the tent. The sounds of life. 'They'll burn the place to the ground.' Charlie swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripping onto the blanket. 'You'll be wiped out.'
Julian had the decency to look a little alarmed, but he reined it in smiled regretfully at her. 'I'm sorry but it's not my decision.'
'You're letting yourself walk headlong into disaster. Come with us.' She looked at him, scanning his face, there had to be some inkling in his brain that they were in real danger. This wasn't another war clan they were up against, it wasn't a slightly insane casino owner – it was an organised and painfully committed group of brutal soldiers claiming to be the American Government. 'Stand with us.'
'Us?' He was midway through turning around, it was clear he wanted to get out of her presence, out of the tent that smelt like illness and death. He spoke over his shoulder. 'You sound like you're starting an army.'
She nodded. 'We are, well trying too; it's harder now we don't have your men. We're declaring war. We can't constantly be on the defensive. If we want to win we have to fight back.'
'And who'll lead after you beat them?' He halfway looked at her, eyes accusing. 'You say you don't know anything about restarting the Republic. But what you say and what your actions are implying speak differently.'
The man who was talking to her now was very different to the one who had thrown her the lock picks barely a few days ago. What had happened in the in-between time? She shook her head, fed up of being accused of things she hadn't done. She pulled her legs back up on the cot and shut her eyes. 'I'll be seeing you then.' The closed eyes weren't really meant as a dismissal, she was just trying to grasp control of her flailing emotions. She never dismissed people but when she opened them she found the tent empty. The tent flaps fluttering in the light breeze. A hollow feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach… how had she become the bad guy?
She forced herself back into a sitting position, re-swung her legs over the bed, and used her hands to push herself up so she was standing. With no Bass to lean on this time, her legs wobbled and she immediately grabbed onto the pole Julian had been leaning on for support. She kept her death drip, knuckles white with strain, until the blood rushed to her legs and she regained feeling. She winced a little but gritted her teeth and let go of the pole, shaking her legs a little and wriggling her toes.
She scouted the room for her jacket but found it nowhere. Her eyes landed on a zip-up hoodie flung across a chair that she knew to be Bass'. He barely wore it, on the rare occasions he did he claimed it was cold. She knew he wore it for comfort, and that it was from before the blackout. What was it doing here? She glanced around, not spotting another option and shrugged, grabbed it, sliding in her arms and flinching at the pulling it caused in her stomach as she pulled zipped it up. She ran her hands under her top and over the bandages closing her eyes in relief, feeling no sticky wetness, that she hadn't pulled any stitches. 'Come on Charlie.' She bit her lip, reached for her knife and sheathed it, turning towards the way Bass and Julian had left. She steeled herself and walked towards the entrance. She peeked around the corner, no guards, looks like they thought she'd be immobilised for a bit longer.
She stepped out the tent, folding her arms against the bitter wind as it whipped through her hair. She pulled the hood up, shielding herself from the worst of it. The air was heavy, down-pressing, there was going to be a storm soon. She blinked against the grit flying at her face and shivered, shifting from foot to foot to warm herself up. The hoodie smelt like Bass; his woody musk from spending so much time in forests and hints of something that was just Bass. She should have been disturbed that it calmed her jittery nerves, but the hoodie was warming her up faster than jumping from foot to foot was.
A few minutes later she was walking through people carrying weapons and fresh game, she sidestepped a few to avoid treading on feet and accidently brushing into people – trying to keep unnoticed. They had been out hunting, and were rejoicing at the large stag they'd butchered. She kept her head down and the hood up, to avoid attention. She eyed the deer as it passed her being carried by two burly men, and her lips quirked up into a hint of a smile, she'd taken down larger with her bow. She stuffed her hands into the jumper's pockets and stopped when her fingers brushed a small piece of folded up card. She pulled it out, absentmindedly stepped around another hunter, and stared at the folded card. She shouldn't open it, it was private, but she was already unfolding the edges. She convinced herself it could be something she needed to know, but deep down she already knew it wasn't.
She let out a quiet gasp as she stared at the photo she held in her hands. Miles and Bass were standing together, in their marine uniform, backs straight. They would have looked very respectable if it wasn't for Miles' lop-sided grin and Bass' amused smirk. There were two small girls next to him; a taller older brunette standing beside him, his arm was wrapped around her tightly, and the other girl sat crossed legged in front of him, leaning back against his legs, gapped teeth grinning into the camera. Miles had a young girl latched onto his side, he had his arm around her as he held her to his hip. She was wearing a pale blue dress, her dirty blond hair was in pigtails and her blue eyes were pinned on Miles, not even noticing the camera was there. Charlie gripped the photo tighter, she had seen photos at her grandpa's, and she knew the girl was her. That meant the girls with Bass were his sisters. She swallowed, this was taken before the car-crash, before his family died. She stared at the captured moment in time, they all looked so happy…
'Charlie?'
She snapped her head up, jolted from her reverie. She immediately stuffed the photo back into the pocket and winced at the sudden movement. Her hand went to her knife, but before she pulled it a pair of hands landed on her shoulders. She jumped, looked up, dropping her hands a little and frowned. 'Connor?'
He grinned at her. 'Hi.' He was clad in a tattered brown top and faded jeans which clearly weren't his, she'd never seen him dress so causal. He caught her scanning him and stepped back, using his hands to gesture to his body. 'Like it?' He winked.
She blinked. She'd forgotten he was even here, how come Bass hadn't mentioned him when she'd woken? He must have known where he was, on the hunting trip, dressed in clothes that weren't him. Connor may have been flirting with her but it didn't seem serious, just light-hearted. She scrambled in her head when she realised she hadn't answered him and forced out a few words. 'You look… different.' She tried for a smile.
'I'm not sure.' He looked down at himself and shrugged. 'Not me, is it?' He pulled a face. 'Monroe went back for his jacket yesterday, once we knew you were safe and that I'd stay watch while he was gone, but he couldn't find mine. My clothes were ruined and Duncan had these lying around.' Connor grimaced. 'Who knows who they belonged too.' He looked at her, frowning as his eyes landed on the jumper, but didn't say anything.
Charlie ignored his reaction and let out a loose chuckle. 'Hopefully we'll be home in a few days.'
He nodded, before eying her carefully, eyes landing on her stomach. She knew he couldn't see the bandages but she still crossed her arms anyway feeling exposed. 'Speaking of-' He looked up at her, eyes meeting hers. 'How are you? Are you even supposed to be wondering around out here?'
She narrowed her eyes. 'I'm not an invalid. I can do what I want.' She growled. He held up his hands, trying for surrender, and took a small step back as if she were a frightened wild animal. Charlie took a deep breath to calm herself down. She shook her head. 'Sorry, I'm just sick of sleeping and staring at the same walls.'
He smiled, lop-sided and genuine. 'Hey it's okay. I get it.'
She smiled a little back, before noticing the blood on his clothes. She pointed at it. 'That yours?'
He shook his head, pulling the top out to look at the dried blood. 'If it was I wouldn't be standing.' He smirked. 'It's the stags. I bagged it.' He looked rather proud of himself.
Charlie was slightly impressed, she knew he was capable but hunting was a very different skill from killing. Still, she couldn't help the taunt. 'I've caught larger.'
'I bet you have.'
The double meaning wasn't lost on her, the slight humour to his voice as he spoke. 'What are you talking about?' She could by his expression that something was bothering him.
He shook his head, doing the usual Monroe thing and denying it. 'Nothing.'
She didn't have the time to pull it from him, she would later, for now she had something she'd set out to do. 'Do you know where Bass is?'
Connor looked at her carefully, something flickered in his eyes but he shrugged and answered. 'Command tent.'
Charlie allowed herself to feel a small amount of relief, at least he didn't say Duncan's private tent. She didn't know what she would have done then. She also knew where the command tent was, being led there herself on the first night of being brought here. 'Thanks.' She sent him a quick smile.
'Welcome. Now, I gotta make sure there not gonna dodge up my kill.' He gestured with his head in the direction the rest of the procession had filed off earlier. 'See you tonight?'
She nodded and moved past him, hands now stuffed back in pockets, her left tightly gripping the photo. She picked up her pace as she headed for the command tent, dodging around tents when she spotted people who may recognise her. She waited a second, before darting the final few steps to the main tent, dropping back against the entrance out of sight. She was grateful for the clouds, despite the impending storm it meant she was not in danger of being discovered by her shadow. That would have been an embarrassment.
'Duncan, as grateful as I am for the offer, I'm not staying here.' There was a pause, Charlie's breath hitched as she heard Bass' voice. Something was wrong. 'And neither is Charlie or my son.'
'Shouldn't you be asking them that?' Duncan's voice was a little sullen, this conversation had obviously been going on for a while, with her being smashed down. 'Who says you speak for Charlie? Or Connor?'
'They're with me. I speak for them.'
Charlie gritted her teeth, she hated being seen as an object but if Bass was doing it then there had to be a reason. She'd learned that he only became possessive when someone threatened him or someone he cared about. It was ingrained in him so deep, no one would be able to change that part of him, yet it still irked her.
'They have their own minds Sebastian.' Duncan's temper was rising a little and Charlie tensed, her hand going to her belt.
'I know. But Miles is relying on me to keep Charlie safe, and Connor is my son. They're not staying here with you.' Bass was remaining calm, his voice passive, but Charlie knew that wouldn't last forever. 'Tomorrow morning we'll be taking our leave.'
'She's just like you and Miles you know.' Duncan's voice had dropped again.
Bass sighed. 'I know. It's getting worse, she thinks I haven't noticed but Miles is pulling away from her and she's not handling it well.'
'She killed those guards with no hint of remorse…she's a good soldier. She'd made a good leader.'
That was obviously the final straw for Bass and he pulled back. 'Look, it's been nice seeing you Duncan, but I need to go.'
'She's felt your loss; she has the same look as you in her eyes. Who has she got left; you? Miles? Rachel? It's not enough, everyone else has left her. She's a Matheson but has suffered the same as you. Isn't that what you want? Someone who understood both you and Miles?'
'Drop it Duncan.' Bass' voice was hard, teeth gritted. 'Leave it.'
'You know I'm right Sebastian... Tell her.'
That was a loaded statement. Tell her what? Sebastian Monroe probably had thousands of secrets, she wondered how many related to her. Questioned flitted through her head. Was he really restarting the Republic? How could he do that? Why would he do that? He'd said he wanted to make up for all the hurt, pain and loss he'd been responsible for, how was restarting the very thing that caused it a fixer?
'We're leaving tomorrow.' His voice was final.
'Charlie and Connor would make good assets. Think it through.' With that Charlie heard Duncan place her glass down on the table – Charlie wished she'd brought Bass' whiskey with her – and stepped away. 'Can't say it's been a pleasure Sebastian.' Charlie had the grotesque image of Duncan stroking Bass' face, sending him a seductive smile. 'I'll be seeing you.'
Charlie froze, breath halting in her throat. Was she going to be discovered? She stepped back a little but Duncan's footsteps receded and she heard Bass' half growl half sigh in relief. Charlie relaxed, there must have been a back entrance she hadn't noticed before.
'You can come in Charlotte.' Bass' voice was low drawl and the panic she'd felt a second ago came flooding back. Of course he knew, he was Sebastian Monroe, it was nearly impossible to sneak up on him. 'I know your there.'
She turned on her heel and fled. Flight or fight. She wasn't fit enough to fight, even verbally, so she ran. She hoped he figured she wasn't really there. She didn't really know where she was going, she hadn't spent enough time scouting the area. She mentally kicked herself, she should have done that before advancing on Bass and Duncan. But as she rounded a wall of an old storage unit that had been left standing, a hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her sidewards. She struggled, pulling against the grip and spat out. 'Let go of me.'
The hands grabbed her other wrist and trapped them together. 'I thought we'd finished with the running Charlotte.' She froze and looked up, locking with eyes that matched her own. Of course he'd find her. His expression easily explained his words. I know the area Charlie. He'd obviously scoped out the area in the days she'd been unconscious, knew the shortcuts. She growled in frustration. 'Are you growling at me?' He seemed amused. But as he looked at her properly he blinked, eyes pinned to his jumper and his expression unreadable. 'You're wearing my jumper.'
Charlie didn't really know what to say about that reaction. She'd been expecting a sarcastic observation or a demand she take it off, anything but staring at her perplexed. So she simply retorted with. 'Are you restarting the Republic?'
He looked taken aback for a moment, but collected himself. 'Charlie-'
She shook her head. '-No. Are you?' He remained silent. 'Tell me.'
He sighed, and dropped her hands. 'I'm thinking about it.'
Her heart stopped. 'No.' Her voice was a whisper, and he stared at her for a second before dropping his head having the audacity to look ashamed. Anger roared up within her and she shook her head angrily. 'No.' She went to push past him; Connor had to know about this and she was going to beat the crap out him till he told her everything. She had to tell Miles, he needed to know. But Bass moved to block her way, holding his hands out. She tried to move past him but he moved with her, so she launched herself at him. Red filling her vision.
He caught her easily, but she fought against him. 'Charlotte. Charlotte.' He forced her back, taking a few slaps to the face and gritted his jaw against the frustration. 'Listen to me.'
'No.' She hissed, continuing in her assault. 'Bastard. You bastard.' She went to kick him in the shin so he'd let go of her but he blocked the kick with his knee and forced her backwards. He was a lot stronger than her, so despite her struggles, she found herself cornered against the wall. She scratched at him, nails digging into skin and creating thin trails of blood.
He growled, low and rough, grabbed her arms tightly, pinning them above her head and jammed his knee between her legs. Effectively pinning her to the wall. 'Stop it!' He shook her hands against the wall and the scrape of skin against brick had Charlie wincing in pain. The order shocked her to the very core, and she stilled automatically. She hated that she responded and loathed the small flash of delight that flicked through Bass' eyes as he figured it out. 'Good girl.' His voice was low, husky and Charlie's stomach squeezed. What the hell was happening here? 'Now listen. Connor knows about the Republic, it was the only way he'd come with me.'
'How could you.' Charlie shook her head, voice quiet and strained. She relented to his grip and sank back against the wall. If he let go she'd run though, he seemed to know this because he held his position. She repeated herself, this time phrasing it as a question. 'How could you?'
'It was originally just to get him to come with me.' His eyes were trying to make her understand. 'But we need an army. We need a capable resistance against these bastards and maybe the Republic is our only answer.'
She swallowed. She'd basically said the same thing to Julian earlier, but she wouldn't stand for it hearing it from Bass' mouth. Maybe that's how Julian felt, was that how he saw her? Another version of Miles and Bass? She closed her eyes, what was she turning into that she even found herself considering it? 'We'll find another way.'
'What if there isn't one.' His voice was closer his time and when she opened him his face was right there, right in front of her. 'What if this is the only way.'
She knew she was staring at his lips. He'd lowered his face so it was level with hers and she knew he'd done it on purpose. Whether he was toying with her, or goading her, she wasn't finding it very comfortable or easy to concentrate. She pushed herself back. 'There's always another way.' She recalled saying the same thing to Miles once, he'd denied it then too but he'd come round.
He closed the gap she'd created between them, he lowered his mouth so his breath washed over her neck as he spoke. 'What if there isn't?' She swallowed against the heat radiating off his skin, stopping herself from shuddering. What was he doing? 'Admit it Charlie-' He pulled back to look her in the eyes, she barely registered that his breathing had picked up. '-the idea of leading an army. It frightens you. But not because it's wrong but because you're afraid you'd enjoy it.' She knew what he was saying, it was registering and if she was in the right mind she'd deny it. Of course she would. But heat was rising in her body, and the way he was looking at her was causing her skin to prickle. He released one of his hands, using the other to keep both wrists against the wall, and stroked her cheek. 'You're afraid you'd lose yourself to it.'
She shook her head in denial, but couldn't manage to tear her eyes away from his lips. Her voice had eluded her. She pulled her head back slightly, flicked her eyes up to meet his and swallowed. His eyes had darkened, the pupil expanding to the point only a thin ring of ice blue was visible. He wasn't just talking about the Republic anymore…
'Charlie?'
Charlie blinked. Her name hadn't come from the man standing in front of her, but the familiarity of it had her stomach dropping. Bass closed his eyes for a brief second and grimaced. 'Shit.' He pulled back slowly, dropping her arms which fell to her sides and turning around, side-stepping so he wasn't blocking Charlie's way.
'Bass?'
Charlie flexed her hands, her wrists ached a little as she rotated them, and looked up into the frowning eyes of one very confused uncle. 'Miles.' She nodded. Out the outside she was smiling, all bright and cheerful and nothing's wrong, but her inner mantra was repeating crap crap crap over and over as she stared at her uncle.
'Okay, what the hell is going on?'
A.N/ Okay, so I couldn't just not have Miles. Even though I know he probably isn't gonna appear anywhere near New Vegas next episode... but I missed him. He needed to be here. So, Miles everyone! :D.
I can't wait for next episode, literally bouncing in my seat... Thanks for reading!