A/N: So from now for awhile, you're going to get a mixture of flashbacks to the past and the present, rather like the show. You'll see why the story takes on this format in a moment. This means the present story might not move forward quite as quickly as it has been, but it will provide crucial context to next stages. Enjoy! And yes, those of you dear Charlie-Jason nuts, there is much more of those two youngsters ahead.


Miles was lying in a clean, white bed, so white, in fact, that he was embarrassed about how filthy he was. His armpits reeked of sweat. His hair stuck to the pillow. He tried to scratch his legs, but they were covered in bandages. Then pain, blinding and excruciating, abraded his nerves, his muscles, his skin. And his brain begged for death.

(One week earlier)

The attack on the border began so well. The bombs went off according to plan. Miles, Rachel, and Nora had slain the whole of the border guards, stolen their guns, and barreled forward. Then things turned bad. Georgia Militia was crawling all over the prison, which was really more of a fort. Miles wondered what Rachel's friend had done to get interned there. It took hours longer then they had planned to locate the room where the prisoners' belongings were locked up. Miles and Nora left Rachel to extract the pendant, while they looked for her friend. On the way to the cells, one of the guards managed to grab Nora, holding a bowie knife to her throat.

"Drop your weapons, or she's dead," the guard drawled at Miles. Miles was just about to do so, when the soldier scrutinized Nora more carefully. "A dark-skinned beauty like you. You'll make a nice slave," he purred, grabbing clumsily at her breast.

In a fit of fury, Miles lunged at the guard and finished him, but not before Nora had taken a deep slice down to the bone of her arm. Miles examined the wound and could tell it was bad. It was an ominous injury before they'd begun the hardest part-liberating the prisoner. Miles insisted on sending Nora back to find Rachel to blow the cell walls from the outside, otherwise he saw no way in hell he was getting back out of such a secure location.

After a furious battle with the cell guards, it looked like Miles and Rachel's friend-a man so fragile from starvation that his skeleton shone through his papery skin-were going to make it out. Nora's first bomb produced a gaping exit. But at the last moment, a Georgian militiaman emerged from nowhere and delayed their escape. Nora's second bomb went off just as Miles was trying to extract them from the rubble, and both he and Rachel's friend got hit. The older man was instantly gone, his face blown to a hideous, unrecognizable mush. Miles used his elbows to crawl out of the mess. He didn't dare look at his legs, though he felt certain that he'd never walk again. Searing pain told him that he had extensive burns and shards of rubble lodged in his flesh like pieces of a macabre mosaic.

When he finally looked up from the dirt, strong hands hoisted him up and began dragging him. At first, Miles thought he was hallucinating, but when the voice finally spoke, he realized it was Jason Neville.

"I'm going to carry you across the border. It's going to hurt. Hold on and don't lose consciousness."

"No. Leave me. I can't make it." Miles had never been wounded this extensively. It wasn't plausible to waste time on his rescue.

Jason ignored him. Miles tried not to scream in agony when he was hoisted onto the muscular young man's back, but he abided by what Jason had said. He knew the kid was correct. Staying awake meant the difference between life and death. He worried about Nora and Rachel, and if they were alive, but concentrating on not blacking out from the pain suddenly required his entire mental effort.

What felt like hours later, Jason laid Miles carefully in the grass. Its wet tendrils cooled his hot cheeks as he started to loose consciousness. Miles suddenly smelled his own charred flesh and felt sick, jarring him back out of his descent. He barely turned his head to dry heave, and Charlie's face was filling his view like a ghostly moon. She lifted his head gently into her hands.

"Are we in the Republic?" Miles asked gritting his teeth. He just wanted to know that he was home. He had a sudden powerful urge not to die in Georgia amongst the slave traders and swindlers he so despised.

"Miles," Charlie shook, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, we're back."

Well this must be bad, Miles thought. He could almost see his wounds reflected in the terror on her face. He still refused to scrutinize his own legs. Whether he looked or not wouldn't change what happened next. It was all up to fate. A fresh wave of lightning pain swept over him. And then anger. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he growled:

"Charlie! I told you to keep Jason away! How could you be so stupid to bring a Neville here!" He opened his eyes to look at her and saw her shrink back like she had suffered a barrage of bullets. He felt instant, throbbing remorse. Everything was pain. If he was dying, this was not the way to go out.

"I'm…sorry," he barely got out through his teeth. It was like he had Tetanus, his jaw ached from clenching so badly. He tried to let her know with his face that he loved her, was truly sorry for all of the pain he'd caused her. He was past the point where he could form coherent words. He choked out, "Hurts…" which was not what he'd intended.

"I know, Miles. We're going to get you help. You need to hang on." Tears were splashing down from her face onto his. And that's all Miles remembered.

Now apparently, after all of that, he was still alive. Miles didn't believe in God, but he had to ask himself why he kept getting second chances. He blacked out once more in the pristine bed.


(One week earlier: Charlie)

Charlie, Jason, Danny, and Aaron had been watching Nora, Miles, and Rachel clearing out the Georgian border guards from above. Jason was engrossed, deeply focused.

"We've got to follow them in, Jason," Charlie said, praying he'd agree. She couldn't bear the thought of the three adults down there dying without her.

He looked briefly at her and stared back ahead. After a suspenseful moment, he finally said, "Ok. We go in. You two-"

"Danny and Aaron," Charlie informed him, with a strong desire to induct him into their little makeshift family.

"Danny and Aaron, we absolutely need you to stay here. If any of us gets wounded, we'll need something…a wagon? We'll need a way to evacuate."

"Got it," Aaron nodded with a frightened look on his face.

Charlie and Jason swiftly set off into the darkness, Charlie's heart pounding like a freight train. By the time they were outside the prison, they found Nora, bleeding badly from the arm, along with Rachel, who was practically holding Nora up. Rachel appeared to have some cuts, but was otherwise intact, Charlie noted gratefully. She hadn't exactly left things on the best terms with her mother.

"Where's, Miles?" Charlie gasped with sudden panic.

"Get down!" Nora instructed, and they all hit the deck as a massive explosion blew the side of the fortress.

Charlie felt something warm trickle down the side of her face and was afraid her ear drum had gone. She couldn't see anything through the smoke…until she did. Two pale figures. Then Nora screamed at them, but to no avail. A second explosion went off.

Jason ran into the rubble, and Charlie started to follow him in a blind panic, but Rachel stopped her. Charlie's eyes searched the smoke wildly, and finally Jason emerged dragging the body of her uncle out. Miles' body. He wasn't moving, and even from a distance she could tell that he was gruesomely covered with blood, parts of his legs singed black. Charlie's heart dropped into her stomach.

Charlie ran up to see Jason steadily mounting Miles on his back, as if her six-foot-one uncle weighed nothing.

"Let's get out of here, Charlie!" Jason said. The escape back across the border was terrifying. Nora had tossed Charlie a gun, and she fired erratically, unsure if she hit anything. By the time they found Aaron and Danny waiting with a wagon, Charlie felt sick from fear. Miles was dying. He had to be. He looked so far gone.

Jason sank to the ground, laying Miles down as gently as possible. Charlie immediately went to her uncle, who was heaving in the grass and cradled his head. She had to tell him not to leave. He had brought her back when she was dying, and she could do the same for him. She had to.

They exchanged a few words before Miles passed out, and whatever Charlie said felt like the wrong thing. Why hadn't she told him to stay even if he saw his brother on the other side? Why hadn't she told him that she loved him and couldn't go on without him? She was aware of a torrent of tears raining onto Miles' white face from her own eyes. Rachel finally pulled her away.

"Come on. I know. I know. We've got to go," her mother said soothingly.

Charlie had a moment of sudden clarity. "Did you get the pendant?"

Rachel's eyes were also filled with tears, Charlie realized.

"Yes."

"But your friend…?"

"Died in the explosion," Jason answered. "I saw him. He was already gone."

Jason and Danny loaded Miles into the wagon. Nora was looking very green, her own wound hideous to behold.

Everyone was shocked when Jason said, "I think I know where we can find someone to treat Miles. My dad told me about him-General Matheson's former personal doctor. The militia allowed him to return to civilian practice as a reward for his service. He's about two hours ride from here."

In the wagon, Charlie rested her uncle's head in her lap, while Nora sat across from her gritting her teeth and sweating. Nora had been wounded over and over to protect Charlie's family. Charlie wanted to tell Nora how grateful she was, but she was afraid to speak. Afraid this would become real, and Miles would be dying.

Aaron and Jason rode up front together. Aaron whispered, but Charlie still overheard: "Jason, is it?"

Jason nodded, focusing on driving the horses.

"You've seen battle wounds before. Do you think Miles will make it?"

Jason glanced at him. "It looks bad. But…well even though I joined the militia after Miles deserted, people in the ranks still talk about him in hushed tones. With awe. They call him invincible, indestructible. So if he lives up to the hype, maybe he'll be ok."

He looked back to see Charlie staring at him with her wide blue eyes and quickly focused on the road. He didn't want to give her false hope.

Finally, Charlie allowed herself to look down. Miles' pale face looked like it had lived a hundred agonizing lives. His chest rose and fell in tiny, hitched breaths. She felt so acutely that she roared aloud, "It's not fair. You can't have him too!" She had no idea whom she was raging at. But her voice sang out over the din of the horses hooves, the churning of the wheels, and into the woods that were just holding at bay the rising sun. She met her mother's eyes and saw something there she couldn't understand.