A/N:

Whenever Gene does something we all know he shouldn't, I can't help but scream "No, Genie, noooo!" at the television, and now I can't stop calling him it, it's cute!

PIP


Truman could hardly contain his mirth, letting out a quick, sharp chuckle, "I can see where Rachel gets her crazy from. Monroe is dead; you stuck the needle in yourself."

Gene shook his head, "It was a fixed injection, filled with barbiturates apparently. Dig the coffin up if you don't believe me," Truman's face hardened as the idea became more feasible in his mind, "Just be quick about it, I'm begging you."

Ed stood and walked outside to speak to the guards, shooing them away hastily before returning inside, "Alright Gene, we'll dig him up, and if you're telling the truth and he's not there, deliver him to us, or we'll have to come and get him."

A chill ran down Gene's spine as he thought of the carnage and bloodshed that was sure to ensue if they went looking for him, "And what about my granddaughter?"

Truman sat back behind his desk, now paying more attention to the mess of papers than to Gene, with no shortage of annoyance and even boredom on his face at the prospect of continuing their conversation, "If you bring him to us, you'll get your antibiotics."

Gene nodded solemnly, clenching his jaw, "I'll be in the lab tent if you need me."

The lab tent was pretty much as the name suggested, a laboratory in a tent, Rachel had been working tirelessly in here in search of a cure, books and little pieces of paper decorated with her handwriting were scattered around the room, along with chemicals and other suspicious liquids and there was an entire desk devoted to vials, petri dishes, needles and microscopes, the place was a mess of science.

Despite her lack of good sense and judgement, Gene was immensely proud of his daughter's intelligence, he had always encouraged her, even when she was busy bringing drummer boys and ninjas home, her textbooks served as her constant, never changing, never leaving, and always fascinating her.

Sure, she ended the world, but it took brains to do it! Now she was passed out drunk after spending days, and nights, trying to create a cure to typhus, and uncovering yet another Patriot plot in her spare time, sounded like an average weekend for someone like her.

The relentless work had kept her away from the men, thankfully. They'd been doing their own thing anyway, partaking in whatever they classed as 'bonding time' since they returned from Mexico. Charlie had been stuck in the middle, both parties wanting them with her, though her and Sebastian's tiff had her sticking a little closer to her mom and grandpa in recent days.

The men that had been sent to dig up the coffin were taking too long, the sun was beginning to rise, bringing a terrifically dehydrating heat with it, which did nothing to improve Gene's chilly sweats, fatigue was setting in and he desperately tried to keep his eyes open, not knowing if he'd wake up again otherwise.

He hadn't seen typhus for a long time but he knew its current progression was too rapid to be natural; it wouldn't surprise him if the Patriots had gone as far as making a completely new strain of the virus, something deadlier, quicker.

Trying to figure out the endgame was a headache and a half, they were letting too many people die to suddenly waltz in with a cure, was it an extermination? Why would they want to take out a town like Willoughby? Perhaps this was happening in other places… It was a frighteningly plausible thought; these guys were everywhere, after all.

Finally, the soldiers returned, looking dirtied and sweating from exertion, breaking the usual Patriot appearance of polished and respectable. Gene splashed some water over his face to liven up, he felt like death warmed over, there was no doubt he'd be looking rough too.

Back inside Truman's tent, he took a moment to delight in how small this tent was compared to his daughter's, the air was a stifling cocktail of sweat and death, it was nauseating, he hoped it lingered, hoped it would serve as a constant reminder for Truman of just what was going on outside the tent walls.

"Well, Gene, it looks like you're useful again. I'll give you two days to bring him in," yeah, if him and Charlie lived that long, "By allowing a criminal that had been sentenced to death to live, you and your family perverted the course of justice, I'd hate to see how that pans out should you fail."

The threat finally made Gene realise just how bad his idea was, not only was his granddaughter's life at risk, but now he'd put the rest of them in danger too. No surprises there though, really, his family was his pressure point and Truman knew this all too well.

The walk back to the barn was long and arduous, his body ached and his stomach had begun churning again. The sun was high in the sky when he eventually spotted the old, half-dilapidated structure.

Poor Gene had no chance to rest though as Monroe stalked up to him, a face like thunder, "Where the hell you been, gramps? Charlie's been chucking up for the past hour."

Gene felt his heart stop, leaving an empty, pained feeling in his chest, now they definitely didn't have much time. He began storming towards the barn, quickly losing his breath and slowing, "She's got typhus."

Bass caught up with him easily and tugged him back by the arm, "Whoa, hold up, typhus? The thing that's sweeping through town and killing everyone?" he couldn't hold back a concerned frown when Gene nodded, "That's not good."

The good doctor's patience was being pushed to the limit, he needed to see his granddaughter, he shrugged aggressively out of Monroe's grip, keeping his eyes trained on the barn doors, "No, it's not, where's Miles?"

"Scouting with Connor." Bass's mouth twitched with amusement at the thought of his son and his best friend working together.

"Go get him."

He scoffed, "Excuse me? I don't think so, I'm not leaving."

"Are you a doctor? No, I didn't think so; you're no good to anyone just sitting around here waiting for her to die." He regretted his words as soon as they tumbled out, he wasn't thinking straight.

Bass's lips parted with a silent gasp as the words registered in his head, Charlie couldn't really die, could she? He must be lying, just trying to get rid of him. He couldn't think of a retort quick enough and Gene shoved past him, slipping inside, leaving Bass with a heavy, pounding heart and feeling like he'd just had an argument with his parents… And lost spectacularly.

Inside, Rachel was leaning over a very pale and clammy Charlie, wiping her forehead with a damp cloth, "Dad, where were you?" she pulled him into a tight hug, "We were worried."

Any amount of affection from his daughter was a rare and wonderful thing, soon to become even rarer when she found out what he had done, he made the most of it and held her tighter, placing a delicate kiss to her head, "Don't worry about that. How you doing, kiddo?" he called over Rachel's shoulder.

Charlie shuffled up onto her elbows, offering him a weak and heart-breaking smile, "Hanging in there, grandpa, you ok?" she smiled again when he nodded, still holding his daughter close, neither of them needed to hear of his suffering.

A ruckus could be heard outside followed by Miles, Sebastian and Connor clambering in, interrupting the warm, heartfelt moment.

"Okay, who blabbed?" Miles's tone was serious, he rolled his eyes at their confused expressions, Gene felt his gut twist with knowing guilt, "I took the kid over to Bass's 'grave' an-"

Bass interrupted, "I seriously can't believe you took my son to see where I was buried!"

"Shut up. Get over it… Anyway, ended up watching a bunch of Patriots dig the coffin up, and they didn't look too surprised to find a bunch of rocks and dust inside. So, who the hell blabbed?"

The silence weighed heavy on all of them as they cast their minds back, had they said something? Given something away without realising? They couldn't have, they'd all been careful about keeping Monroe a secret, he was their secret weapon, they couldn't afford for him to be caught.

Bass watched each of them, looking for signs, for the nervous tics, and for a sad moment, he thought it might be Charlie; she had the motive after what had happened between them. Instead, he approached the elderly man who couldn't look him in the eye, "What about you, Genie? You never said where you've been all this time."

His silence was proof enough of his betrayal, he lifted his head bravely, "I'm not sorry," he heard Rachel and Charlie's joint gasps of shock, or perhaps it was disgust, "Handing you in will get Charlie some meds."

Miles shuffled to get a better look at his niece; finally realising that she wasn't looking too good.

Bass's gaze passed over Charlie briefly as she struggled to her feet, he nodded in understanding just as his son's voice piped up, "You slimy piece of sh-"

"Connor, stop, it's fine. I'll go." There was a mass shout of 'what?' parroted through the room, he shrugged, eyes fixed on the girl weakening before him, "If this is the only way to get a cure then so be it, I'm not gonna sit by and watch her die."

Propping herself up against a table, Charlie finally found the strength to speak, "If you go, they really will kill you this time."

He shrugged again, allowing himself a smile, "Better me than you."

Connor couldn't handle what he was listening to, choosing to storm out like a petulant child instead, closely followed by his father.

Those that were left behind had to find their own way to deal with their new problem, Rachel had no words, undecided on how she felt about everything, she wanted her daughter to live, of course, but her father had once again let them all down, it was becoming a habit of his and she couldn't help but wonder if it was safe to have him around.

Charlie wasn't as quiet in her convictions, "What the hell were you thinking? I tell you the guy saves my life and this is how you repay him?" she was having difficulty keeping herself up, "You need to fix this, I'd rather get a thousand diseases than have anyone die for me, even if the ass deserves it."

Tears stung her eyes, "I thought you were the normal one, grandpa, the person that had started staying away from all the stupid."

As Charlie continued to lay into Gene, outside, the Monroes were having a heated discussion of their own.

Connor paced back and forth, hands placed firmly on his hips, the flicking of his hair against the breeze gave him an overall feminine look, in any other circumstance, it would have been funny, "Why the hell would you let yourself die for her?!"

"Because she's family!" Bass didn't mean to sound so unhinged, shouting at his grown up kid probably wasn't going to win him any brownie points either, "She's important."

"Yeah? And what about me? Am I not important to you, daddy? And how exactly do you expect to run a Republic if you're dead?"

"Please tell me I'm old and my hearing's jacking up." Miles made them both jump as he rounded the corner, looking none too pleased with what he'd just heard.

Monroe Junior looked between the pair, anticipating the fight that was bound to ensue. Bass didn't move, keeping his eyes fixed on his old friend, "Miles."

"What's going on, Bass?" Miles didn't really know why he bothered asking, he knew exactly what was going on, he'd almost expected it but stupidly thought better of his friend, thinking he may have finally turned a corner.

Bass turned to his son, his words more for him than for Miles, "Nothing, nothing's going on," he began to walk back towards the doors, "Not anymore."

Without warning, Miles grabbed Bass's shirt and slammed him up against the barn wall, making quick work of sending a fist flying into his nose. "You don't get to walk away from me, you're gonna tell me, right now, what the hell is going on inside your head?!"

Bass gripped his face, coughing up the blood that was now rushing out of his nose and down his throat, "Alright, fine. But you're not gonna like it," he shoved Miles off of him, his face a mix between a grimace and a smirk, spitting out the metallic-tasting liquid into the grass, he continued, "We were going to take the Republic back, think how easy it'd be to get rid of these Patriots with our thousands, no, our hundreds of thousands of men fighting them."

"I wanted something for my kid to have, something to carry on with when I'm gone, which turns out is going to be sooner than expected. It wouldn't have been like last time, you and Charlie would've made sure of that."

Miles straightened, "Charlie... Does she know?" he chuckled at Bass's telling eyes, "Well that explains why she's been avoiding you. The Republic's dead, Bass, you've gotta accept that it's not coming back."

"We built it up from nothing, we can do it again."

Connor butted in, "Not if you're dead you can't." he was ignored, as usual, as they did their whole talking-with-their-eyes thing. It wasn't too bad when it was Miles and his dad, but whenever Charlie joined in, he couldn't help but roll his eyes, it was weirdly awkward to watch.

Before they could continue, Rachel crying out Charlie's name from inside drew their attention.

Bass was the first to charge in, finding Charlie passed out on the floor with Gene and Rachel huddled over her frail body, checking pulse points and her breathing through their tears and sniffles. He nestled himself between them and scooped her up, delicately putting her back down on the sofa she had been using before.

He stroked her hair back from her damp face and checked her pulse himself, needing to be sure. She was alive, that was all he could gather for now, how long she'd remain that way was the pressing question, he hadn't seen her this weak since she had been drugged in the bar that night, it felt like a lifetime ago. He looked over to Gene, saddened to see that gramps wasn't looking too hot himself, he looked like he could fall at any minute.

"I think it's time to go get those meds now, Gene."