Red right hand - chapter 3

A Revolution fic: Bass Monroe/Charlie Matheson. Charloe. Blackout AU. Post S2 (no comic). Set in the same universe as another story of mine, 'Halloween dreams'. While Miles, Rachel, Aaron and Priscilla head to Bradbury to investigate the nano threat there, Charlie and Bass are working for President Blanchard, hunting patriot remnants but with a special mission to track down the rest of the nanotech pendants created by Ben and Rachel Matheson and Randall Flynn's scientific team. They've heard a rumour out of the Plains Nation of a travelling healer, a shaman who could do things no one could explain…

Rating M

Author's note:

Hi there, and thank you so much for reading and for some lovely comments, Its been hard to find time to write and this has taken much longer than I planned, so a big, big thank you for coming back :) Magpie

Red right hand - chapter 3

Sanchez pulled his horse up in a scatter of small stones and dust with Ren just behind him, both mounts snorting in a lather of sweat. He swung down from his saddle and shook his head, expression a mix of amusement and annoyance in roughly equal amounts. 'Hey, Charlie. Bass. If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to avoid us. Good thing we found your tracks.'

Charlie smirked and lifted a hand, fingers doing a Mexican wave.

Bass shrugged, an arm draped casually around Charlie's shoulders, 'don't know why you'd think that Sanchez, we've been right here waiting for you, in fact we were starting to think you two must have gotten turned around.'

Ren chuckled, light blue eyes sparkling under his sweat streaked blond fringe when he saw Charlie's flushed cheeks, kiss swollen lips and Bass' satisfied, smug smile. 'Must have.'

Sanchez dismounted, walking his horse to cool it down, behind him Ren did the same. He looked across at Bass, meeting his eyes, 'if it's all the same to you, we've been up here with you the whole time, ok?'

Bass cocked an eyebrow, 'Sure. Whatever makes Blanchard happy.'

Sanchez huffed, 'it's not Blanchard I'm worried about, it's Miles. He's expecting a full report on you guys not getting it together as soon as we get to Bradbury.'

Charlie slanted a grin up at Bass, 'see? I told you it was Miles.'

Bass shook his head, amused but pissed too. 'Blanchard must have said something to him.'

Sanchez circled round again, then stopped near the others, his horse snorting and reaching down to grab a mouthful of grass. He hooked the reins over a branch. 'Well whatever Blanchard said, it was enough to make Miles threaten me with a fate worse than death if I let you two be alone long enough to…' he shrugged, 'you know.'

Ren brought his own horse round, 'Chez, they can't have done anything like that because we've been here all the time, remember?'

Sanchez took a deep breath, 'Ok, whatever. I might make you talk to Miles, I'm not that good at lying… But right now we'd better start thinking about a plan,' He pointed a thumb towards the tent city down in the valley. 'Security's tighter than a drum down there, only way we're gonna get in to that tent is if we got someone needs healing.'

Bass stood silent for a moment, then took his arm from around Charlie, unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off.

Charlie frowned, 'Bass?'

His eyes met hers, a slow, deep pain in them but a steady calm too, 'it's ok, Charlie.'

She looked at him for a long moment then nodded, silent.

He passed her the shirt then stripped off the singlet underneath.

Sanchez glanced at Ren. 'D'you know something I don't?'

Ren shrugged, 'I'm a medic, I help him out every now and then.'

Sanchez looked back at Charlie, worry in his eyes when he saw the look on her face.

Charlie stood very still. The scars from the whipping Bass'd got in Mexico from his own son for fuck's sake still gave him trouble, even now. The strokes had cut deep into flesh and muscle and damaged nerves in his back, shoulders and neck and they hadn't healed properly. Ren had been supplying him with liniment and had shown her how to massage it in, where and how to apply pressure to reduce stiffness and adhesions, how to help. Despite that, the pain and stiffness was getting worse especially in colder weather, or the rain. And even though he was still deadly and fought like nothing else she'd ever seen, she knew how much it hurt him, could see it in the lines around his mouth, the tension in his eyes. She knew why he'd been so careful not to hurt her and why she'd trusted him not to.

Bass turned around, showing Sanchez his back.

'Shit.' Sanchez marched closer, lips set in a hard line, 'who the fuck did that to you?'

The scars slashed across the broad shoulders and sculpted back like terrible silver grey and red snakes, knotted and writhing with every movement he made.

Charlie's face wore an expression of disgust, 'his son did it to him in Mexico on the orders of a bastard called Nunez.'

Sanchez looked horrified, 'his son did that?'

Ren came up behind him, put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, 'yeah, can't pick your family, huh?'

Bass reached over to Charlie for his clothes, 'Nunez would have killed Connor if he hadn't done it, then he'd have finished the job on me himself and I'd be dead for sure.'

Charlie's lips tightened and her eyes were angry as she passed him the singlet and shirt. 'Yeah, I know. Connor's a saint.'

Bass took them, his hand holding hers for a moment, his voice low, urgent. 'I wasn't there for him, Charlie, I was never there for him, I don't blame him for being angry, or for what happened in Mexico.' He took a heavy breath, 'or since.' He pulled the singlet over his head and down, wincing just a little as the straps caught the scars on his shoulders, then turned to Sanchez. 'Do you think it's enough to get us in?'

Sanchez nodded once, his handsome face grim. His hand covered Ren's, their fingers lacing together, almost for comfort. 'It'll be enough to get us in the front door, but if it'll be enough to get us close enough to see if the guy's got a pendant, and if he has to convince him to give it to us or come with us to fight the Nano, I don't know.'

Ren frowned, 'I saw him when we checked the place out before. He was making some kind of speech out the front of the tent. He's younger than I'd thought he'd be, good looking too. He's not that tall but he wears this long black coat and heel boots that make him look a mile high, and he's got these scary eyes.' He shuddered, 'he doesn't exactly look like the type who can be talked into doing anything.'

Bass shrugged, doing up the buttons on his shirt, then he looked up. 'Only one way to find out.'

….

Charlie was having ongoing flashbacks to New Vegas as they walked through the crowded carnival style tent city. There were people everywhere. Women, mostly young, mostly pretty in tiny dresses and even tinier lingerie, men flocking around them, barkers advertising last chance to see shows, crowds of rough looking plains nation types in leather and rough woven clothing, tall lines of torches, smells of burning oil, searing meats, fresh bread, alcohol, weed, horse and human sweat and all the other sounds and scents of blackout communities. She recognised the clansmen and women, the regulars, the fighters. And of course there was the fight tent. As they passed it and heard the shouting, the boos and cheers, she glanced up at Bass who was stalking along beside her. He hadn't even glanced over at the noise, he had his alpha aura on full and the crowds were parting around them like water around a boulder…

His eyes gleamed down at her though, ironic blue, 'all we need now is Bret Michaels…'

She grinned.

Sanchez came up alongside them, 'this is quite a place, looks like they've got something for everyone.'

Ren slid an arm around Sanchez' shoulders, his blond head a bright contrast to his boyfriend's dark good looks, 'yeah, I spotted a stall back there with some boots I'd kill for.'

Charlie leaned across, 'mine need re-soling, do you think they'd do repairs?'

He shrugged, 'maybe,' he patted Sanchez' hip with a big hand, 'this one could do with a new gun belt too…'

Bass shook his head, amused, 'you can all go back and check it out once we get the job done, ok?' He pointed to a huge red and white tent up ahead, 'there's our guy.'

Long lines of people, some with visible injuries or the thousand yard stare of people dealing with something overwhelming, others obviously family or loved ones, slowly shuffled forward towards the arched entrance of the tent where guards in long red robes checked for weapons, using chalk to write on then passing out red tokens in exchange for guns and swords…

Charlie focused on the banner strung above the tent, 'God's red right hand?' She turned to Bass, 'weird name for a healing tent, isn't it?'

He shrugged, 'If I remember right it's a quote from an old book called Paradise Lost. God's red right hand was the hand of vengeance against the forces of evil.' He kept walking, brow furrowed in thought, 'I think there was a song about it too, around before the blackout.'

Charlie looked at him, surprised. 'How d'you know that?'

Ren nodded, 'he's right, the song was Red right hand by a guy called Nick Cave. My folks were musicians and mom used to sing it while my dad played guitar. She said he saw the future, how bad it was going to be.'

Sanchez frowned, 'so our man sees himself as the right hand of God?' He bent around Ren so he could see the others, 'and he's taking vengeance against who, or what?'

'The Nano maybe?' Charlie was trying to rescue a lock of her hair that had got caught on Bass' jacket, 'or the Patriots? he's healing people hurt by the bombs and the war.'

Bass stopped walking so she could get free, 'hope so, then our job will be dead simple,'

Sanchez and Ren stopped too.

Ren shook his head, 'you know it's never ever that fucking easy.'

No one contradicted him.

They kept going and joined the queue, coming up behind a woman guiding a younger man, frail and trembling, bandages wrapped round his head, covering his eyes.

The woman glanced back at them, her eyes full of a kind of desperate hope, and a need to talk tension out, 'The Red hand's a miracle worker, my son and I've been traveling for a month to get here, where're you folks from?'

Sanchez leaned towards her, 'down south a ways, and we heard he could heal all kinds of things too,' he tipped his head towards Bass, 'so we brought our friend here to see him, hoping it was true.'

She smiled, her gaze catching each of them in turn, lingering on Bass, 'it's true alright, I've seen things you wouldn't believe.' She turned to her son, gently urging him forward as the line moved closer to the entrance and the guards. 'And now we're almost there, God be praised.' She shuffled her bag away from her gun belt so it was easier to get to, 'he's had wicked people threaten him though, that's why there's all the guards and why they're taking our weapons for safe-keeping.'

Bass stooped a little and let some of the pain show on his face, 'why would people want to threaten someone like him?'

She frowned, 'they say he's unnatural, that what he's doing is against the proper way of things, that he has to be some kind of witch.' Her eyes flickered and her voice became a whisper, 'but other people say he's got access to some kind of power from before the blackout, that they've heard sounds, seen lights sometimes…'

Charlie felt Bass go very still beside her, 'so what do you say?'

They'd reached the tables and the woman turned to help her son, glancing back at them, 'I say he could be the devil himself and I wouldn't care as long as he could help my son.'

Then it was their turn.

…

After surrendering their weapons at the door and pocketing the numbered red tags given them by the guards, Bass, Charlie, Sanchez and Ren made their way through the crowds of excited, expectant sufferers and their companions to find seats as far towards the front as they could. The heady smells of sweat, unwashed bodies and crushed and trampled grass was overwhelming even in the huge space and the smoke from the many lamps and torches settled on everyone's skin in a greasy layer that Charlie couldn't wait to wash off in the next river.

She tried not to breathe too hard.

While Bass was busy using his smile and charm to get a couple of people to move over so they could have four seats together in the third row back from the stage, which was a kind of miracle in itself, Sanchez looked around. 'Where the hell did they find all these chairs anyway?'

Charlie glanced up at him, 'maybe they're nano chairs?'

Ren put his arms out to keep his balance as a couple of older people tried to get past him, scowling, 'they obviously have lots of resources, maybe that's why they haven't asked for money yet.'

'I'm sure they'll get round to it, probably make us pay to get our weapons back.' Sanchez sighed in relief as Bass beckoned them forwards. 'Would you look at that? He did it, he got them to move.'

Charlie grinned and moved in, taking the seat next to Bass. She glanced up at the handsome, confident face, the smug smile, and bumped her shoulder against his hard muscled one just because she could. 'Didn't doubt it.'

His eyes met hers in a clash of brilliant, hot blue and his hand dropped onto her thigh, the long, calloused fingers looking big, powerful and his grip hard and strong on her flesh. She shivered, remembering the touch of those fingers on her skin, his warm body close to hers. She reached out and ran her hand down his arm to his hand, lacing her own fingers through his and felt his lips close to her ear, his breath hot on her skin as he pressed a kiss on her neck.

He nibbled, tongue licking a little trail on her skin. 'Want to escape again later?'

Another shiver ran through her and she leaned into his lips. 'I'm in…'

Sanchez flopped down next to them and sighed, 'I'm just gonna pretend I don't see anything, ok?'

Ren chuckled.

Then there was the sound of voices chanting, the words indistinct, and a line of red robed, black masked figures walked slowly onto the stage, taking positions in a semi circle facing out.

The audience settled, a susurration of excited whispers rippling through the crowd around them that trailed off into an expectant, avid silence.

The lamps dimmed and very, very slowly, the image of a great, red hand appeared on the wall of the tent behind the stage, startling against the pale canvas. A couple of people gasped…

Then a man walked out onto the stage, standing in front of the hand. He had on a long, black coat and was wearing a red glove on his right hand. His face was in shadow until the moment he reached centre stage, then he looked up and a beam of light from somewhere high up in the tent shone down onto his face revealing glittering pale blue eyes, slavic cheekbones and spiked blond hair that seemed to gleam and glisten like a halo around his head.

'You're kidding me, you have got to be kidding me.'

Charlie felt Bass go rigid next to her and over the rustle of gasps, sucked in breaths and worshipful moans that rose around her from the rest of the audience she heard the shock and disbelief in his voice. She looked up at him. 'What is it? what's wrong?'

Bass stared at the man on the stage as the searing blue gaze roamed over the audience, caught, hesitated and returned like a searchlight or a damn magnet to look straight at him, the flaring recognition in those pale eyes unnerving, impossible. 'It's got to be a pendant, it can't be him, he's dead. I killed him.'

Jeremy Baker smiled, looking very much alive with his arms stretched out wide in welcome and his right hand red as blood. His eyes stayed on Bass as his voice rolled out over the crowd like a warm, inviting siren song. 'Hello friends and thank you for coming.' He raised the red gloved hand and pointed at Bass, 'and I see a man who needs healing and forgiveness…'

…..

AN: Hi there and thanks so much for reading - I couldn't resist bringing Jeremy into this lol! anyway, hope to see you at the next one. cheers, Magpie