Hey, just want to thank everyone again for all the reviews. I really love getting them.

I still don't own Revolution...or David Lyons...how sad is that ;)...

He needed a few minutes to process things.

Bass shook his head. The last thing he remembered was being strapped to a table in Texas, a poisonous liquid pumping into his veins. And now he was...back in Philadelphia...in his bedroom...and Miles was in town.

Jesus, he really was dead. Because there was no other explanation for how he'd wound up in his old city, as the President of the Republic, while the events of over half a year ago played out.

So what the hell was he supposed to do now?

He'd already sent Maria away, telling the guards to get her back home safely, and to give him a few moments to dress. It felt weird to him, so weird and wrong, to wake up in bed with a woman who wasn't Charlie. So he'd gotten rid of the brunette, ignoring the pout she shot him. Besides he had far greater things to worry about.

Staring at his closet, he cringed at the array of different uniforms hanging at the ready. Jesus, had he really been this self-absorbed? What he wouldn't give right now for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He reached for the casual navy; at least that one was understated. Still, the very idea of putting on a uniform he had come to loathe in the last year curled his toes. But for some reason he couldn't even begin to remember, he had no street clothes in his suite, so his options were extremely limited.

He dressed quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed to strap on his boots. He needed a moment to think before leaving this room; a moment to figure out what the hell was happening to him. He ran a hand down his face, curling it to stroke his...aw, Christ, the beard was gone. He'd gotten so damn used to his face with that thing; being without it was going to suck. Oh, God, if the beard was gone than that meant...

Only one candle was lit, so he'd dressed mainly in darkness. The thought of what he might find on his own body hadn't even occurred to him. He stretched out his arm and rolled up his sleeve. And there it was, in perfect black ink. His Monroe militia tattoo, the one he'd burnt off nearly six months ago.

He felt the laughter bubble up in his throat before he could stop it. But what erupted from his mouth was more a terrified whimper than a laugh. He rested his head against his hand, fingers covering his eyes as he breathed deeply in an attempt to calm down. Ok, this was happening. And there were only two explanations.

Either he was really dead and this was some form of hell; a hell of his own making that would force him to live in the Republic for the rest of eternity. Or...somehow, somewhere, the universe had gotten a few wires crossed and sent him back in time. He had no idea which was the truth, but he needed to pull it together before someone came back to look for him again.

He stood up, his mind rehashing what had been going on a year ago in Philadelphia. If this was really playing out, he had to know specifics. So Miles had been found; he remembered that, remembered some of his guards waking him so he could be briefed by...Major Neville.

Well, he had more than a few choice words for that son of a bitch. He started for the door, prepared to break every bone in the traitor's body. He forced his brain to recall what Neville had told him so many months ago. Miles was here, and Tom had mentioned leaving for the house in Boston. Bass had gotten pissed at the mere suggestion of him turning tail and running. He'd told him to find Miles, but instead Neville had returned with...Miles's travelling companions.

Charlie!

Dear God, Charlie was here. She was in Philly. A smile crossed his lips, and his heart began to pound. Suddenly, his mind replayed everything; all the events that had happened and were about to happen. What the hell was he going to do? How could he get his friends out of this?

Wait a minute...how could he get his friends out...he was the goddamned President. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. He could do whatever he wanted. He paused for another minute. My God, he could do whatever the hell he wanted!

He could fix it all; he could make everything better; he still had the chance to bring this Republic back from the brink...he could stop Randall Flynn...he could keep Philly and Atlanta from being bombed. He could yank his damn head out of his own damn ass and turn things around.

He could...he could stop Danny Matheson from dying.

Rubbing his hand over his chest, he struggled to breathe as that knowledge hit him. He could give Charlie her brother back. "Charlie..."

He could see her again, his Charlie...he felt tears in his eyes and chuckled at himself. Only a few hours had passed and yet he missed her so much. As he'd felt the darkness overtaking him, he'd fought to hold onto her face, never expecting to see her again. But now she was here.

He was going to make things right. It was too late for him to help Ben, didn't that knowledge sting, but he would not allow anything to happen to anyone else in Charlie's family. He was General Monroe, President of the Monroe Republic, but he had a secret. He was also Bass Monroe, best friend of Charlie and Miles Matheson, a man who gave a shit about the people he cared for. A man who had been forgiven by the only one on the earth who mattered. The woman he loved.

He had so damn much to do. But first he had to fake a few people out. And he could be one hell of an actor when he needed to be.

"General Monroe, sir. I assume you've been informed of Miles Matheson's...arrival in town." He nodded his head in that formal manner he always had. It had always pissed Bass the hell right off, but he'd needed a man like Neville back then. Now things were different.

"I have, thank you, Tom." He turned in the direction of his office, the other man following just a step behind. "And we're sure it's him?"

"Wheatley is one of our best agents. He sent a coded message yesterday saying he was bringing in Miles Matheson through the subway tunnels."

"And yet you found this Wheatley dead?" He knew the answer; he just liked to see Tom squirm. At Neville's nod, he continued. "Well then, how good could he be?"

Neville's eyes widened. "Against Miles. How good is anyone?"

True, jackass. Miles would kick this pain in the ass all the way to the Plains Nation and back. But Bass had other plans at the moment. "So Miles is in town."

"Sir, maybe you should think about heading to the house in Boston. Just for a few days."

It took Bass every effort not to roll his eyes. Instead, he fixed Tom with the hardest glare he had. "Run away...is that what you're telling me?"

He could see Neville backtracking in his head. "I'm just trying to be cautious."

"I don't run." Yeah, the son of a bitch was still afraid of him. They hadn't yet reached the time when the dickhead felt secure enough to steal his troops right out from under him. Wait, damn it, how the hell did the rest of this conversation go. Something about Rachel and the border war. Yeah, none of that was important just yet. Right now, he just wanted Charlie. "Just find him, Tom. Are we clear?"

Neville nodded as Bass walked away. He knew where they were. They'd been found hiding in Kipling's house last time. He'd already sent his personal guards to locate them and bring them back safely, Kip included. He'd also sent for Rachel out at the factory. Let Neville go on a wild goose chase for a little while. He had something else to do.

The knock on the office door ten minutes later jarred Bass out of his reverie. He'd been walking around the room, touching the things that had always brought him such pleasure. A vase here, a statue there. It was truly beautiful stuff. But he found he really hadn't missed any of it. "Come in."

He turned to the man who entered, the man he'd sent for. Now this, this was something he'd missed. He swallowed thickly; the old son of a bitch was a sight for sore eyes. "Jeremy."

"Mr. President."

"Shut the door, would you?"

The man did as he asked then came and sat in his usual chair in front of Bass's desk. Bass himself leaned against the front of it; so far, he'd been too uncomfortable sitting behind the desk for more than five minutes. "Can I ask why you sent for me, Sir?"

"Of course. I assume you've heard that Miles is here?"

Baker nodded. "Yes, Sir."

He stared at Jeremy, tamping down an overwhelming urge to give the guy a big old bear hug. "You know I want him alive."

"That's always been the standing order. I just wonder why that is, General?"

Bass mentally crossed his fingers. The last time he'd been so very wrong about Jeremy Baker; he just prayed that this time he was right. "Because I refuse to kill my best friend."

There was silence for a few moments. Jeremy's eyes narrowed. "Do you want me to do this, Sir?"

"No, Jeremy. I refuse to let anyone kill my best friend." The man's eyes lit up with understanding. "Tell me, Captain Baker, do you feel this Republic is living up to its full potential?"

"I, uh..." Talk about a deer caught in the headlights.

"This isn't a trick question." He didn't want to scare the man. Jesus, had his people really been this terrified of him? "Is this what you thought the Republic would be when it was first formed? Is this what you had in mind?"

"Sir, I...I don't know what you want from me." Jeremy swallowed thickly.

"I want the truth. Friend to friend. I want you to speak freely, and I don't want you to be afraid of the consequences."

Captain Baker looked him straight in the eye and sighed heavily. "Then, no. I didn't expect it to get so big. I didn't expect to conquer half the United States. And I didn't expect...we were supposed to help people."

Jeremy hung his head and Bass knew he was worried he'd just signed his own death warrant. If he'd still been General Monroe, he probably would have shot his friend, or cowardly assigned the task to someone else. But Bass could never kill a man who'd spoken all the things he himself had been feeling. Bass could never kill a man who was truly a loyal friend. "You're right, Jeremy. Nothing is as it should be."

"Sir, I didn't mean to-" Baker jumped up, trying to undo the damage he thought he'd done. But Bass reassured him with a pat on the back.

"Jeremy. Would you have my back...if I told you I want to make some changes?"

The captain just stared at him, and Bass got the distinct feeling he was being read. "I'm loyal to you, Mr. President. You and Miles saved my life. I don't like the idea of him dying either. But my loyalty is to you and this Republic. I'm behind you whatever you do, Sir."

Bass smiled. "And what do you think of Major Neville? Do you trust him?"

The next words out of Jeremy's mouth would tell Bass exactly which way this was going to go. A snake in the grass would tell him yes and follow whatever his president wanted; a real friend and trusted ally would tell him the truth. "Not even as far as I can throw him."

So he had been right about Jeremy. "So if I told you to take a few men, men that belong to you completely, and arrest Major Neville, you would do so?"

Baker was silent for a moment, uncertainty in his eyes, then a huge grin broke out across his face. "Yes, Sir, I believe I would."

"And Will Strausser?"

Jeremy sighed. "I wouldn't leave him alone in a room with my dog."

"So you think having him in charge of prisoners wasn't one of our better decisions." Bass paused. No, no more passing the blame. "One of my better decisions."

"No, Sir, I don't."

"And if I told you that Will Strausser had to be put down like a rabid dog, you would agree?"

"There are some men this world is better off without," Jeremy said. And the two of them shared a look that spoke volumes. Once, before this whole thing started, they'd been pretty good friends.

"We're going to change things around here. And you are the only officer in this militia that I feel I can trust." He clasped his hand on Jeremy's shoulder, squeezing it in a friendly gesture. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The only other one I trust...is Miles. I need him alive, Jeremy. For so many reasons." First off, Miles couldn't die. He was still his best friend and brother. Second, Charlie would never forgive him if something happened to her beloved uncle. And third, Miles knew where the hell his son was.

"I understand, General Monroe."

Bass cringed. Charlie sometimes mocked him with that title when she was pissed. He found he really didn't enjoy hearing it anymore. But he'd have to put up with it for a while yet. Although not among his friends. "Let's say we drop the formal titles, Jeremy. At least out of earshot. You know my name."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. "Bass, what do you need me to do?'

"I need you to arrest Tom Neville."

"We need charges."

"We have charges. Treason. Jason Neville is still alive. And he's working with the rebels."

Jeremy's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

Oh yeah, he was sure. "Yes. Neville's been lying to us the entire time."

"Well, that'll work," Jeremy said in that acerbic way of his. Bass had missed that. The two closest friends he had in the militia had always managed to make sarcasm an art form. Not that he had missed out on that trait himself. Still, few men could perfect it the way Miles did. He needed to find him before this came to a head. He couldn't handle hearing those words come out of Miles's mouth again...you're nothing to me.

"I thought it might." The irony of the situation was he was going to do his level best to find Jason and get him back to the Republic. But not to have him arrested. The kid was a good soldier with a good heart. Jason Neville was exactly the sort of man he wanted in his militia from now on. "Bring Tom back here as quietly as you can. And put him in the basement cells. I want a word."

"Yes, Sir." Bass rolled his eyes. "Sorry, old habits and all that."

"Listen, I want him under constant guard, again only men you trust. I don't want anyone to speak to him that isn't me, you, or Miles, you understand?" Jeremy nodded. "And I want Julia Neville under surveillance as well."

"Julia?"

"Yeah, I just have a feeling." Bass had no hard evidence against her. True, she had escaped with Tom to Atlanta the last time, but that was nothing strange; most wives would cut and run with their husbands. There was just something about the woman that raised his hackles. "You have your orders, Captain Baker."

Jeremy tipped his head, turned, and started for the door before Bass stopped him. "Oh, when they're brought in…Pittman, Nora, and Charlotte Matheson, I want to know about it right away."

"Bass...Sir, the girl is already in a cell." Jeremy looked uneasy.

"What do you mean the girl...Charlie...Charlie's here?" He rushed over to Baker.

"Charlotte Matheson was taken to a room with her mother and brother."

Bass's face darkened, a shadow of how terrifying he could still be. Charlie had alleviated that, but if she was in any danger, General Monroe wouldn't hesitate to reappear. "On whose orders?"

"Well...yours, Sir." Jeremy shook his head. "You didn't give those orders."

"I damn well did not. Who has her, Jeremy?"

Jeremy paused for a moment, his face resigned. "Strausser."

Oh my God...Charlie...

He bolted down three flights of stairs, probably scaring half of his guards and staff. Things were playing out differently. Last time, he'd had them taken to the factory, where he had Rachel working on the amplifier. Now they were here, probably in the basement interrogation rooms. Christ, if that son of a bitch hurt one hair on Charlie's head...

He ran until he reached Strausser's favorite room, forcing himself to slow down and breathe. It wouldn't do to have the President hurrying in all out of breath; he needed to appear formidable and imposing. But not to the prisoners, not this time.

What had he said to her; he racked his brain to remember. He introduced himself...nice to meet you, Charlotte...told her that Rachel had killed a man who was her friend. And my God, he'd given an order to kill both Charlie and Danny if necessary.

Entering the room, he surveyed the scene quickly, his heart drumming in his chest. Whatever he had already changed was rippling through. Things had already progressed further than the last time. Rachel was squirming as guards held her while Strausser pointed a gun at Charlie's head. The man was dead. Bass swallowed thickly. "So...what have I missed?"

"Sir," Strausser started. "We've found an excellent way to have Mrs. Matheson complete the amplifier."

Bass's blue eyes scanned over Charlie. She hadn't been harmed, he could tell, but she was tense and nervous, that beautiful defiant look on her face. He'd wanted to see that expression again, but not like this. God, he just wanted to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her hair. But this wasn't his Charlie, not really. Not yet.

"Guards, release Mrs. Matheson." There was hesitation. "Now! And get out."

Everyone left the room, leaving him alone with the Mathesons and Strausser. He'd expected Strausser to lower his gun as soon as he'd given the order, but the son of a bitch still had that damn thing trained on Charlie. Well, actually Rachel since she'd leapt in front of her daughter. "Sir, what are you doing?"

"Are you questioning me, Captain? Lower your weapon."

Still Strausser did not. "But, Sir, this will work."

"I gave you a direct order, Captain Strausser. Lower your weapon!" What the hell was going on here? Strausser had always been a good little lapdog, heeling the second Bass said the word. Was it possible the fucker had always had a defiant streak in him? Had he really been this blind about his own militia? And what the hell else had Strausser done without his knowledge? "Captain, I am warning you."

"I'm sorry, General. As soon as Miles Matheson gets involved in anything, you tend to lose your focus. You'll thank me for this later, Sir."

Bass whipped his gun out, pointing it at Strausser's head. "I said...lower your weapon."

"Sir...this is necessary."

Psychotic little dickhead! The guy really was insane, and he'd tossed him right into a position of power. Well, he was straightening things out, starting with Will Strausser. He'd been right when he told Jeremy the man needed put down. "I'm giving you to the count of three. And I will shoot you."

He thought for one second that Strausser was going to comply, then he noticed pressure being applied to the trigger of the gun. Bass fired and Strausser went down, dead before he even hit the floor. Rachel gasped, throwing her arms wide in front of her children, her eyes huge as she stared at him.

He lifted his hands, putting the gun away. "Rachel, I'm not going to hurt you. Any of you. I just need you to listen."

Her lip curled in disgust. "And what could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear, Bass?"

He ran through everything in his head. Where were they at? What had happened? What was going to happen? "I know you hate me. I know you think I'm a son of a bitch. And you're right. I am...but I'm trying to make things better, I swear to God."

Rachel let out a cold laugh. "Really, and I'm just supposed to believe what, Bass? That you had some giant epiphany and you're changing your ways."

Could there be a better description for what had happened to him? Yeah, he'd had a giant epiphany, starting with nukes falling on his city and ending with the Republic of Texas sticking a hypodermic needle in his arm. His eyes moved to Charlie. But the biggest change had come by falling in love with her daughter.

Rachel must have seen the hunger in his gaze. "Get your eyes off of her, you bastard."

Bass shot her a sad smile. "Believe me, Rachel, I would kill myself before I'd harm Charlie. Or Danny. Please...just give me a chance to explain."

"I don't want-"

"Mom," Charlie interjected. That rebelliousness was back in her icy blue eyes and directed at him. She didn't believe him, or trust a word he was going to say. But she didn't know he'd already kept one of his promises to her. He swore to her he would never let Will Strausser hold a gun on her again; not without putting a bullet in his head. "Let's just hear what he has to say."

"Thank you, Charlie." Her chin tilted up, like it offended her that he spoke her name. God, they had such a long way to go. This beautiful creature was his Charlie and yet...not. There was still a softness in her eyes that the Charlie in the future had lost; that Danny's death and a trip to the Tower had erased. So help him God, he wanted her to keep that small bit of innocence. "I know I have so much to apologize for. And I know those apologies won't do a damn thing. But all I can do from here on in is fix the damage I've done."

"And how do you intend to do that, Bass? You can't bring back Ben," Rachel said.

"No, I can't. But I loved him, too, Rachel. And I never wanted him to die."

"No, you just wanted him brought here to use against me. And instead you brought my son."

Christ, she was going to be tough. Just as against him now as she was in Willoughby. Well, she had every right. Now that he'd opened his eyes and really seen what Strausser was like, he was afraid to know what the bastard had actually done to her. He'd left her alone with a monster like Strausser; he'd condoned her torture, but Jesus, had more happened? There was a rule against rape in the Republic, but seeing the insolence Strausser had just shown, had that stupid little written rule done a goddamned thing? "I'm sorry I let Strausser anywhere near you, Rachel."

Rachel's eyes widened, a sheen of tears covering them. "Wh-what?"

"It was so wrong of me. And there is nothing I can say or do that can make it any better." He glanced down at the dead man. Amazing how they all just seemed to forget about the corpse in the room. That was no more than Strausser deserved. "But he will never hurt your daughter, your son, no one, ever again. I'm cleaning the militia out. I'm finding and court martialing any man found in violation of the rules that have been written. I don't want this in my Republic anymore."

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Rachel faltered. "And Tom Neville?"

"He's been arrested." All three of them seemed surprised at that news. He looked specifically at the boy. "I need you, Danny, to tell me exactly who else was involved in the death of your father. I also need to know if any of those men hurt you on your way here."

The kid's blue eyes brightened, and he nodded. "Okay."

"Rachel, I also apologize for putting you in the position you were in last night."

Charlie's eyes shot over to her mother. "Mom, what's he talking about?"

He would not tell Charlie this time. He wouldn't gleefully toss out the harsh news that her mother had shoved a screwdriver through a man's chest. After all, it was still his fault; he'd put her in that position where she had no other options. But that would be Rachel's secret to share. "I put her in a very bad spot. She had to make a bad decision, Charlie."

"Like which of her children to choose to live?" That brazenness was so much a part of her. He loved her all the more for it and inappropriately found it incredibly sexy. Curb yourself, dickhead. She doesn't even know you.

"I didn't give that order, Charlie." Not this time, anyway. "Believe me. I did not want Strausser to hold a gun on you."

Her eyes locked on his, searching for the truth. The way she had learned to on their journey together. What she saw there must have convinced her. She nodded curtly, her eyes scanning him up and down. Taking his measure, he supposed. She'd been told he was nothing but a bastard; he hoped he could prove that wrong.

He glanced to the work table in the room. The amplifier had been brought over from the factory. "Rachel, I do need you to do something."

She caught where he was looking and rolled her eyes. "Why would I ever think you would change? You want me to finish that damn thing for you, don't you?"

He turned to her. "No, I want you to destroy it."

"Excuse me?"

"Randall Flynn is on his way here."

Rachel seemed horrified. "What?"

"Who's Randall Flynn?" Charlie asked.

"He's a man with very bad intentions. He can't get a hold of this thing, Rachel. He wants access to tanks and helicopters. He wants to turn the power back on." It really helped knowing all this stuff in advance. At least this way, he could keep his people protected and keep himself from becoming the world's largest patsy.

"That's impossible," Charlie said.

The look on her mother's face said differently. But he already knew that. "He's trying to gain access to the Tower, Rachel. With my connections, he could get in. But we don't want that to happen, do we?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then will you destroy it for me."

This one simple request must have convinced the woman who hated him most that he was trying to turn over a new leaf. Or that they at least had a common goal in mind. "Yes. And the pendants?"

"Their range is small, right? Maybe we can use them for something better than weapons." The best thing to do would be to give up all the electricity, but something told him maybe they could use it to do some good. Of course, he still trusted Rachel about as much as she trusted him. He glanced at the woman he loved. "Give it to Charlie."

"And make her a target?"

"I'll keep her safe in the Republic, Rachel." But that did remind him of something else. "But Flynn, he can turn them on at will."

"He what?" Rachel eyed him warily. "How do you know all this, Bass?"

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you. But right now, you just have to try to trust me." He sighed. "I know this is hard for you given our track record, but I need you to try. Can you stop him from turning these things on? Cause if you can't, we'll have to destroy it."

She was silent for a moment. "No, I can."

"Good. Your kids will be put in rooms by you, Rachel. Across the hall, there are two rooms that adjoin through the bathroom. Charlie can have one, Danny the other." He turned to Charlie then. "I know you may still hate my guts, but I could use your help."

She stared him down, her icy eyes fierce. "What about my friends?"

Damn, in all the craziness he'd forgotten about the others. "I'll find out what happened to them, Charlie. They should be here. They'll be given rooms on the same floor as you. They'll be treated as guests."

"With locked doors," Rachel added.

The thought made him cringe, but right now, he couldn't chance them escaping. His eyes pleaded with Charlie to understand. "Just for now. Until we can all trust one another. But you'll all be safe. I swear on the souls of my little sisters."

The look of shock on Rachel's face might have been comical in other circumstances. After she recovered, a simple nod told him she had accepted his declaration.

"Destroy that thing now," he said, pointing to the amplifier. He would send Jeremy's men in to get rid of Strausser's body. Right now, they had to get moving. "Charlie, I need you to come with me. Please."

"For what?"

He looked at her and smiled, filling it with all the love he had for her. "We have to find your uncle Miles."

So this was actually the chapter that started this whole little thing. It's been the chapter I've been dying to get to because it was the one that inspired the entire story. While rewatching S1 in early June, I thought, what if Bass woke up back in Philly as Gen. Monroe again, except with all the knowledge he has now...and with feelings for Charlie. And I always knew that he was going to wake up in that exact moment of Nobody's Fault But Mine, when he wakes in his suite and someone's pounding on the door.