A/N:

The hiatus has truly buggered up my scheduling, the times I used to have to write are now being spent either getting an extra hour in bed, browsing Tumblr, or catching up with the telly!

PIP's gone lazy!

Going to make a habit of ending on a high note:

The weather in England has done a U-turn, we've gone from weeks of rain, wind and plenty of flooding, to glorious flippin' sunshine! Which almost guarantees snow in July or something...

PIP

The journey back to Willoughby was boring, but mercifully uneventful and quick; the Monroe men were being pushed on by what Charlie had said about Miles needing these men as soon as possible, Bass wanting to be back by her side also helped, the ache in his chest was more of a comfort now, reminding him that what they had was real, it wasn't all in his head.

But as signs for the Texan town they'd all been calling home started popping up, his focus was entirely on Miles, what would he tell him? None of what had happened in Vegas would be good news to his aging ears, and then there was Charlie, or rather the lack of her, he definitely wouldn't be pleased about that, Bass could almost feel the fists smacking into his face already.

As the sun set on another day spent travelling, their mini-army took refuge in a small patch of woodland, making camp and sparing Bass from the Matheson fury that awaited him just a few miles down the road. Despite being out in the open for days, he felt suffocated, he needed some alone time.

With a sharp, trusting nod to his son, Bass took off towards the darkening horizon, he wouldn't go far, he just wanted to get away, just for a little while, it wasn't too much to ask after the hell they'd all been going through recently.

He came to a large, rocky hill just as a multitude of stars began making an appearance in the sky, it would take a while to climb it, which is exactly why he did; it required concentration and was a welcome distraction, regardless of the bruising and scratching he was sure to have received from clambering around jagged rocks in the dark.

Collapsing at the top, Bass heaved in what he had been longing for: air. Fresh, clean, cool air. It cleared his mind so that all he had to think about was breathing in that sweet, sweet oxygen.

Out of nowhere, he laughed, seemingly at everything, and nothing. Staring up at the stars and breathing so deeply had made him dizzy, the world spun around him, it felt good, almost euphoric. He hadn't felt this spaced out since Rachel OD'ed him on barbiturates! He was well aware that hell awaited him just around the corner, but he really didn't give a damn.

All that mattered was the here and now, just for a few precious moments.

Bass had friends, sort of, he had family, and even a lover, and perhaps a home too, what more could he possibly want? All the armies in the world couldn't equate to that. He hadn't really thought much about the Republic recently, but if losing it is what it took to get a little normality in his life, then he didn't want it back.

Normal seemed like such a funny word in connection with him but it was the right one. Normal people had friends, didn't they? They had someone to spend their days with, right? Sure, they didn't lose it and go crazy with a sword in their hand, but still… He was close enough.

A cold chill in the breeze sobered him, he'd been so absorbed by his thoughts that he hadn't realised just how cold he was. Sitting up, Bass let the cool air sting his still flushed cheeks before climbing back down, he'd got his breathing space, he'd had a think, it had been fun, now it was time to head home.

From a distance, Willoughby didn't look all that didn't from when they'd left; Bass had decided to scout it out with the excuse that it would give the men a chance to get used to the area, but in reality, he just wanted to keep away from Miles just a little bit longer, still unable to think of an acceptable enough reason for Charlie not being with them.

After several hours of time-wasting, the familiar track down to the barn came into view; there was a collective sigh from the Monroe men, "Time to face the music."

Bass hadn't taken more than a few steps ahead when a large figure charged at him from the treeline, brandishing what appeared to be… A frying pan. Reflexively, Bass's sword was in the air in moments and crashed against the pan. Pinned against each other, they got a good look at their opponents and immediately lowered their weapons, "Stay Puft?"

It was indeed Aaron. Fat, beardy, depressed Aaron, he looked rough, but Bass would've happily brought him in for one of his and Miles' 'bro hugs', if they didn't both stink so bad! It was another welcome distraction.

Aaron sighed, chuckling at his poor excuse for a weapon, "Thank God, it's you."

Running a hand over his relieved face, Bass smiled, "'Thank God… It's me'? You know you said that out loud, right?", they never thought either of them would be glad to see one another, but they were, they'd never been best buddies or anything like that but they got along, which was better than what most people were dealing with these days.

"I just… I thought you were a Patriot or something, it's nice to see a familiar face, thought I was lost for a while back there."

Bass eyed the rucksack on his friend's back, "You just getting back?" Aaron nodded, how long had it been? Weeks? Months? All the days seemed to merge now, it was a long time, they were sure of that, "Where've you been all this time?"

"To Hell and back, twice," Tears threatened to fall as he remembered everything that had happened, everything he had seen, he shook his head to push the bad thoughts out and finally noticed the little gang to the side of them, "You having a slumber party or something?"

Connor stepped forward and cleared his throat; he held his hand out in an all-too-gentlemanly fashion that made Aaron uneasy, "I'm Connor."

Aaron leaned close to Bass, ignoring the outstretched hand, "Is he meant to look like you?"

Bass smirked as a dejected Connor pulled his hand back and began shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, "He's my son."

Looking back and forth at the pair, he couldn't think of anything quirky to say, he'd forgotten that Monroe had a kid, he had been too busy going crazy in Nano World, "Oh… Good."

Bass grinned proudly and gestured for them to continue walking, "Come on."

They shared bits of their journeys on the way to the barn; most of the talking came from Bass and Connor, Aaron didn't really feel like opening his can of worms, and he definitely wasn't pleased when he found out where they'd left Charlie, but at least she was alive.

"Honeys, we're home." Aaron called out as they ducked down through the barn doors; his dry humour had been missed, Rachel jumped him immediately, wrapping her arms around him the best she could, she had missed her fellow brainiac, talking crazy wasn't so bad when he was around.

Meanwhile, Bass had to deal with Miles…

"What the hell have you done, you idiot?" Miles rolled his sleeves up in preparation. Five extra killers, a loony computer geek and no Charlie, something had definitely gone sideways out in New Vegas.

Bass backed up, self-preservation kicking in again, "Now, Miles, you know no one can tell Charlotte what to do. She's in good hands; I'm going back for her in a couple days."

"Don't bother." Rachel's unusually loud and stern voice from the other side of the room startled them.

"What?" The men responded in unison, the synchronicity making their lips curve childishly for a brief moment.

"This is what we talked about, Miles, she'll be safer there, they've already started taking people."

Bass frowned at her, he couldn't keep up with everything the Patriots had been planning, it seemed like it was something new and deadlier each time! "Take… Taking people? For what?!"

"Reprogramming. They take the young, the fit, the healthy and they… Reprogram them," Bass was still looking at her awkwardly, she thought of something even he would understand, "They make them into super soldiers."

"Super soldiers. Great, we've got five men going up against super soldiers!" It was times like this that Bass could do with Charlie by his side, a single look from her would keep him strong. He sighed, running his hands over his face, "If I don't go back for Charlie, she's just gonna come here on her own."

In an extremely rare moment, Bass could actually see Rachel scheming and piecing a plan together, she was normally so closed off, especially around him, his stomach did a somersault at the idea that she was finally starting to let him in.

Rachel thought back to the idea she'd had on one of her crazy days, about packing a bag for her only remaining child and the man she had detested for so long, and sending them on their merry way, safe, happy and away from all this mess.

No matter how much Miles thought he needed Bass, the fact was that this was a losing battle, they weren't going to beat the Patriots, not easily anyway and certainly not any time soon. And it was becoming obvious that they wouldn't all survive if some miracle allowed them to win, they'd been getting by on quick thinking in a crisis and sheer dumb luck.

It didn't help that they were a self-sacrificial, suicidal bunch of morons; they'd all take a bullet for another, which meant Miles was probably going to be the last man standing, him being the favourite.

She could see Bass trying to get into her head. Nodding quickly, she shut herself off again, they'd talk later.

Brain probing somewhat unsuccessful, Bass turned back to Miles, "So, looking past the super soldiers and the usual threat of mass murder, how'd it go with Tom?"

"He's on our side."

Bass smiled sarcastically, "Great. Finally, some good news!"

Miles shook his head, shrugging his shoulders in that old carefree, hippy fashion that Bass could never understand, "But he can't help us."

"Oh for the love of God!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing. How had things gone so wrong? He was too exhausted to attempt to plan their next move, "You guys sort this out yourselves, I need a lie down." he couldn't recall ever sounding so old.

Shuffling into the adjacent room where the closest thing to a bed was, Bass felt his heart sink upon finding Gene chilling in there, he seriously disputed with himself whether or not he was about to kick an old man out of his bed.

Deciding against being a major ass, he pulled a blanket out of his backpack instead and huddled into a corner, he was used to sleeping on floors, it didn't bother him anymore but just once, a soft surface would have been nice.

He slipped in and out of slumber, mumbling 'shut the hell up' several times, and dragging the blanket over his face whenever the others started arguing and waking him up.

Hearing Rachel call his name snapped him right out of what was becoming a very lovely Charlie-centric dream, hearing her voice whilst he was sleeping had never ended well for either of them in the past, he eyed her warily before sitting up, certain she didn't have anything pointy on her.

She beckoned for him to follow her, another thing that normally meant trouble, but there was vulnerability about her now that tugged at that soft spot in his heart. They walked out through the fields and trees until the barn had completely disappeared from view and Bass stopped, "What's going on, Rach?"

"I want you to run away." Her response was quick and sharp, like she'd rehearsed it a thousand times, "Go find Charlie, and both of you just go."

"Go? Go where? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and Charlie need to disappear, you need to look after her, Bass, please, you owe me, keep her safe." The more she spoke, the quicker her strong façade slipped and tears began to flow down her cheeks, after what this man had done to her son; she had to trust him with her daughter.

Bass understood, for once, and cautiously pulled her into a hug, aware that she could change her mind and try and kill him at any given moment. She resisted a little at first but eventually allowed herself to snuggle into his chest briefly, appreciating the rare offer of comfort.

They stayed that way for a few more minutes but Rachel hadn't quite stopped sobbing yet when Bass caught movement out of the corner of his eye, making him painfully aware of how vulnerable they both were, he only had a little pocket knife on him, having left all his gear back at the barn, "Get down!" he threw them to the ground as gunfire erupted around them.

Covering Rachel's body with his own, he kept his head down until the shooting stopped, the grass around them was tall enough to conceal them but it also put them at a disadvantage, they had no idea where their attackers were.

Seeing an opportunity to make a run for it, he nudged Rachel, keeping his voice low, "We need to go."

Panicking, her voice came out rushed and in a harsh whisper, "No. I can't."

"Rachel," Frustrated, he flipped her over onto her back and she found herself looking up at General Monroe all over again, "You're going to get up off your ass and we're gonna run, alright? Or neither of us is ever going to see Charlie again."

Despite being utterly terrified and full of hate, she couldn't help but feel glad at seeing the General slip into place again, she needed someone to take control and tell her what to do, she wasn't good in these situations.

Grabbing her arm, Bass pulled them into a low crouch and began scurrying towards a thicker part of woodland; it would provide better coverage so they could figure out what just happened and what they were going to do next.

The first and most obvious thought running through Bass's head was that it was the Patriots behind the attack and, judging by the way they crept up on them like that, it was their new Terminator batch, let loose to train.

Fabulous.

Now they just needed to figure out how to get away from them, fighting them was not an option, knives didn't go well against guns and he was still pretty shattered from everything that had happened in Vegas.

He didn't even have time to scout out another place to hide before something shifted in his peripheral vision and the familiar click of a gun echoed on the wind, he grabbed Rachel again as he scrambled to his feet, "Run!"

Tom crashed through the barn doors unexpectedly, making Miles roll off the sofa in alarm, the bottle of whiskey he'd been cuddling in his sleep smashed to the floor but was ignored, "Time to go, Miles."

He let himself catch his breath before continuing, "The Patriots, they know you're all down here, they've sent the new recruits."

Miles pulled his jacket on quickly, instantly ready to leave at the mention of Patriots. Uncharacteristically, he paled as he took in what Neville said, "New recruits, as in… The army of zombies?"

Tom cocked an eyebrow in exasperation and anxiety, he had seen what those kids were capable of, it wasn't something to take lightly, "Yes. You need to get out of here."

Aaron and Gene appeared from the next room brandishing rucksacks, "We're ready." Gene had been prepared for something like this for a long time; he knew they'd get discovered eventually.

There was a brief moment of tension as Aaron and Tom recognised each other but they quickly brushed it aside with silent nods, there were more important things going on than what had happened between them.

They all made their way towards the stairs when Connor stepped around them, "What about Rachel and my dad? They're out there."

Tom turned back to Miles, confusion riddling his features, "Who's the kid?"

"Long story, let's go," he nodded for the others to move out, giving him and Connor a moment alone, "I'll find them later, Bass can handle himself."

The group of men started heading in the direction of where Duncan's mercenaries were camped, it was time to put them to the test. They hadn't even made it over the hill when they started hearing gunshots.

When a bullet shot into the ground dangerously close to his feet, Miles spun around, weapon at the ready, and opened fire, taking two men out with little effort. He glanced over at Tom with no shortage of cocky glee, something that was quickly dampened as a bullet flew past his head.

They all made a dash for the treeline as the barn they'd been calling home for so long went up in flames behind them.

Rachel and Bass had been running around for hours, they were quickly running out of trees to duck behind. In all his years of wartime experience, Bass had never let himself get caught out in the open, it was a cardinal rule, especially when you were unarmed. But they were out of options, the fields was the only place left to escape through.

Thankfully, he didn't need to voice this suicidal idea to Rachel, she already knew what they needed to do. Bass wasn't sure if he was scaring or comforting her with the serious look in his eyes, he grabbed her shoulder gently but kept his voice firm, "Keep moving, a moving target is harder to hit, okay?"

She simply nodded, too afraid to try and speak for fear of garbling her words or getting noticed and shot at again. Taking a shaky step forward, she scanned the vast, open surroundings, all was quiet, it was unnerving. Her legs seemed to develop minds of their own and charged her onwards, shots rang out almost immediately and her first instinct was to duck and cover but Bass screamed for her to keep going, so she did.

Her legs were burning, but she kept going, her chest was heaving, but she kept going, sweat and tears were stinging her eyes and blurring her vision, but she kept going. She kept running until something happened that she couldn't so easily ignore, it felt like a dull thud at first, then the excruciating burning put her on the floor as blood erupted from her shoulder.

Bass collided with her seconds later and was sent tumbling to the ground as well, "Rachel, what are you doing?!" she rolled onto her back, coughing, which is when he saw the bloody bullet wound on the side of her chest, "No, no, no, no, you can't do this," he had to flatten himself to the floor as more shots were fired, he pressed on her wound to stop her bleeding out, making her scream, "Stay with me, please, Rachel?"

They had hurt each other a lot over the years, they'd even tried to kill each other on several occasions, but this is not what Bass wanted, not now, not like this, "Please don't do this," he could barely see, tears clouding his eyes, anger and desperation raged through him as her blood flowed around his fingers, "M-MILES?! C'mon, Miles, where are you?" he shouted out at the empty space around them.

With the last of her energy, Rachel covered his hand with her own, she looked peaceful, accepting that this was probably it, her voice was remarkably calm and soothing for someone who'd just been shot, "You have to take care of Charlie, Bass, don't let her go."

"I won't, I promise, I'll look after her." He didn't want to register that those were her last words, her last request, but he couldn't deny it any longer when she stilled, when her chest stopped rising and falling, "Rach-Rachel?" he shook her, "No, Rachel, come back, come on, you've gotta come back!"

He could hear an intense amount of gunfire going on, but none of it was aimed at him, it all turned into a droning earache as he checked Rachel's pulse, confirming what he didn't want to believe. Forgetting the world around him, he sobbed against her stomach, the guilt started to set in, he had killed her, he had made her life miserable, and now he'd killed her.

"Bass?" It was one of two voices he didn't want to hear right now, "Bass, what's go- Oh no…" Miles sunk to his knees beside his friend as his eyes ran over his lover's lifeless body, his voice was strained, strangled, "Rachel."