Chapter 14

Gene dug around in his saddlebags, then glanced up and looked around the room, his eyes searching for Bass and Miles. "Crap," me muttered. "Rachel, I collected some willow bark on the way here and must have left it hanging from my saddle horn to dry. Go out and get it, would you? As soon as Charlie wakes up I want to give her some willow bark tea. It'll help with her pain and the fever." Rachel hesitated, reluctant to leave her daughter's side. "Nothing is going to happen in the two minutes it will take you to get to the garage and back," Gene assured her gently. "I promise."

Rachel slowly rose to her feet, her gaze lingering on Charlie and her face pinched with worry. "OK," she agreed quietly. "But if she wakes up while I'm gone, yell for me, alright?"

She turned and raced through the kitchen for the back door, unwilling to be away from Charlie one minute more than she had to. As she approached the makeshift stable, she heard Miles and Monroe talking through the half-open door, their voices pitched low as if unwilling for anyone to overhear their conversation. As she drew closer, however, their words became clear and Rachel jolted to a stop, the blood rushing from her head, leaving her dizzy and reeling. No, she thought desperately. Please, God, don't let it be true.

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Miles and Bass were silent as they made their way to the garage, both lost in his own thoughts about Charlie. When they reached the horses, they moved together with the practiced ease of old friends, lifting the deer from the saddle and stringing it up over one of the structure's rafter. Miles started butchering the deer while Bass began removing the horses' saddles and rubbing them down. Finally, Miles managed to shake himself out his reverie and looked over at Bass.

"What the hell was that, Bass?" he asked calmly as he continued to skin his kill.

"What are you talking about?" Bass replied, never faltering in his movements.

Miles lowered his knife and turned, watching Bass carefully for reaction. "That look between you and Charlie right before Gene started working on her." He saw Bass falter for a moment and then continue moving the brush along the horse's smooth back.

"There was no look, Miles," he said calmly, a note of confusion in his voice. "I think you were imagining things."

Miles chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. "I gotta hand it to you, man, if I didn't know you I would completely believe what you just said. But," he added grimly, "I do know you. And so I know that you're full of shit. I can always tell when you're lying, remember?" He glared at Bass' back, as the man remained silent. "Answer me, damn it!" he finally snapped.

Bass slowly turned until he was facing Miles, his hands loose at his sides and a look of resignation on his face. "What do you want me to say, Miles?" he asked, resigned, and Miles huffed out an impatient breath. "No, really, how do you expect me to answer that?" Bass pressed. "If I tell you that I was just trying to give her encouragement, you'll just say that I'm lying. And if I say . . . what you're obviously expecting, you'll probably come at me with that knife. So you tell me what it is you think you saw."

"I think I saw you making googly eyes at my niece, Goddamit!"

"Seriously, Miles?" Bass asked, almost smiling. "Googly eyes? I feel like I should be asking to copy your algebra homework"

"Don't you dare try to brush this off, Bass," Miles ground out, his hand tight on the handle of the knife. "What the hell happened between the time you left with Charlie and when the rest of us got here?"

Bass' eyes were fixed to the knife clenched in Miles' hand. "Fine," he told him. "But I'm getting that itch in between my shoulder blades. The one that tells me that someone wants to plant a blade in my back. So put the knife down and we'll talk."

The thump of the knife hitting the concrete seemed magnified in the tense silence that stretched between the two men. "Alright, Bass," Miles said finally, nodding at the knife. "It's down. Now I want answers. What happened?"

Bass dropped the brush and ran a hand through his hair, his head lowered as he searched for the right words to explain to Miles the incredible change that had occurred between Charlie and himself. "I . . . don't know how to explain it," he began. "We really didn't speak during the ride to the cabin. Charlie was in no condition to have a conversation. Neither was I, to be honest. I just wanted to get here, put her in one room and myself in the other so we wouldn't have to deal with each other. I got her settled on the mattress and she fell asleep. She . . . started to have a nightmare. I knew she would. I've been waking her up before they get too bad for the past few days but this time . . . This time I didn't."

Miles managed to hide his shock at the news that Bass had been keeping such a close eye on Charlie and focused his lack of action. "You didn't wake her up . . . because she was talking in her sleep."

Bass' head jerked up in surprise and he frowned at Miles. "How did you know that?"

"Charlie told me right before you two left that she had been having nightmares. She was worried that she was going to say something in her sleep and . . . give away things she wasn't ready to talk about yet."

Realization flooded Bass and he took a step towards Miles, his eyes locked on his face to catch any change in expression. "You knew," he breathed and his face quickly flushed with anger. "You knew what happened and you didn't say anything? How could you not tell me, Miles?"

"In the first place, it was Charlie's choice whether or not to tell you!" Miles retorted harshly. "I think you'll agree she earned at least that." Bass flinched, his face going pale, but didn't answer. "In the second place, you were an absolute wreck. How, exactly, was I supposed to tell you that Charlie had been tortured for protecting you? And –"

Whatever Miles had been about to say was cut off by a roar of outrage as the garage door was thrown fully open and Rachel tore in, her face mottled with fury as she lunged at Bass.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed and, before Miles could reach her, Rachel's arm swung and Bass' face snapped around as her fist made contact with his cheek. The three figures were frozen in a terrible tableau until Bass slowly brought his head back around and looked down at Rachel with eyes that were chillingly, menacingly flat. Rachel reached back to swing again but Bass' hand struck out and grabbed her wrist in a merciless grip.

"You only get one, Rachel," he said coldly as he started down at her. "Try that again and you won't like what happens."

Rachel wrenched away from him, too furious to be frightened, and sneered at him. "You think that scares me, Monroe? I got past being afraid of you years ago, you bastard. You took me from my family, you killed my husband and my son, you dragged Miles down into the filth with you and now –" She broke off as hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat. "Now, I find out that you're the reason that Charlie was almost tortured to death? My God," she cried, her voice breaking, "haven't you taken enough from us? From her?" Her face was a frozen mask of hate and suddenly she lunged. "I'll kill you!"

Miles wrapped his arms around Rachel's body, banding his arms around her torso and trapping her arms at her side; he shook her harshly. "For God's sake, Rachel, enough!" he shouted as he struggled to hold her. Rachel abruptly went still and she turned her head to look at Miles. "And you," she whispered. "You knew? That's what you wouldn't tell me." Miles was silent and Rachel's head dropped, her chin resting on the arms that held her against Miles' chest . "At least have the courage to say it, Miles."

The stillness stretched interminably until Miles couldn't stand it anymore. "Yes," he admitted tersely. "I knew." Miles felt the fight drain out of Rachel and tentatively loosened his grip on her. She stepped away and moved until she could face both men. "Why didn't you tell me, Miles?"

Miles threw up his hands. "Are you serious?" he asked incredulously. "After what just happened here, you're really asking why I didn't share this particular bit of information with you? In the first place, the last thing Charlie needed – or any of the rest of us – was for you to go completely bat shit crazy over this! She was sick and tired and wasn't in any shape to deal with your reaction. The rest of us had to focus on getting her to safety and throwing the Patriots off our tracks. Forgive me if I didn't feel like that was an ideal time to throw off your focus! In the second place, Charlie had made the decision to protect Bass and she was the one who paid for it. It was up to her to tell you, not me."
"I'm her mother!" Rachel exclaimed disbelievingly. "I have a right to know –"

"No," Miles cut her off. "You don't. She's an adult, Rachel," he said gently, hating what he had to say but knowing he couldn't avoid it. "And you . . . gave up that right a long time ago."

Rachel flinched and paled alarmingly. "How could you say that to me?" she whispered harshly. "You were the one who called me to Philadelphia," she reminded him, her voice gaining volume as she spoke. "You two were the ones who kept me there! I had no choice!"

"That's a popular phrase with you, isn't it, Rachel?" Bass said coolly. "You couldn't stop the power from going out because you had no choice, right? It was Randall's fault or because of Danny's health or because 'they' just wouldn't listen to you anymore. You missing out on ten years of Charlie's life wasn't your fault because Miles and I locked you up." He took a step towards Rachel, who found she was unable to tear her eyes from his. "But you did have choices," he reminded her smoothly. "You chose to develop the nanites, even after you knew what could happen. You chose to play God with them to keep your son alive, and damn the consequences for everyone else. You chose to come to Philadelphia when Miles sent for you and you had a pretty good idea of what you were walking into. I've done terrible, unspeakable things," he admitted grimly. "But at least I'm willing to take responsibility for them. Why don't you give it a try?"

Rachel's breath rasped in her throat, the sound harsh in the otherwise silent garage. "You bastard," she gasped. "How dare –"

"I'd dare a lot of things, Rachel," Bass answered, his voice flat. "Even telling the truth."

"You stay away from Charlie!" Rachel ordered him, raising her hand to stab her index finger into the air between them. "She's suffered enough because of you and I will not have you hurting her again!"

"Is this where I say 'Yes, Rachel' and slink off to hide?" Bass asked as he quirked an eyebrow; then he was suddenly serious. "Let's get something straight. I'll stay away from Charlotte if she tells me to. And if she wants me around, that's where I'll be. So get it out of your head that you have any say over this." For the first time he looked a little uncertain and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I . . . care about Charlotte," he admitted slowly, sincerely. "I'm not going to do anything to hurt her."

"Yes, you will," Rachel spat as she began to back towards the door. "That's what you do, Monroe. You hurt people. You don't know how to be any other way." With one final burning look at Miles, she turned and walked away.

Bass and Miles stood silently, each avoiding looking at the other. Eventually, Miles spoke. "What. The fuck. Was that?"

"What?"

Miles turned to glare at Bass. "You heard me, Bass," he told him grimly. "One minute we're talking about what happened to Charlie and the next you're telling Rachel you care about Charlie and you're going to be around for her? What the hell are you talking about?" Miles was yelling by the end, his face flushed with anger.

Bass faced Miles' rage unflinchingly. "Charlotte and I talked last night. A lot," he said slowly. "About what the Patriots did to her. What I've done to her. Connor. And . . . Shelley and the baby."

Miles reared back in shock and shook his head in disbelief. "You told her about Shelley?" he asked, stunned.

"Yeah," Bass replied. "I felt like I owed it to her after . . . what she had gone through." He abruptly turned his back to Miles, his shoulders rigid with tension. "I still can't believe she did that," he murmured so low that Miles almost didn't hear him. "It makes me sick to think about it." Bass glanced at Miles over his shoulder. "But she forced me to realize that I couldn't . . . dishonor Connor by becoming President Monroe again. And that I had to live up to what she had done for me."

"Bass," Miles began and then stopped short, completely shocked by what Bass had said.

"I promised Charlotte that what she went through wouldn't be for nothing." Bass turned fully and Miles could see the sincerity on his face. "After everything I've done, she's willing to forgive me. I'm not going to turn my back on that, Miles."

"I get that," Miles said slowly. "Really. But Bass, I'm getting the feeling that there's more going on here than you feeling grateful to Charlie." He shook his head, his eyes on Bass. "Please tell me I'm wrong."

Bass stared at Miles for a long moment. He sighed and shrugged helplessly. "I don't think I can do that, Miles."

"Shit, Bass," Miles sputtered. "You cannot mean that! She's her and you're . . . well, you! Do I really need to go into all the ways that this is a terrible idea? For God's sake, you're old enough to be her father!"

"Miles, take a breath," Bass told him grimly. "I'm not an idiot. Charlotte's forgiven me and I'm . . . not looking for any more than that. But," he added quickly, "that doesn't mean that I'm going to give into Rachel and just avoid her. I'll be around for her as much or as little as she wants."

"Just . . . God, Bass, I don't even know what to say!" Miles exclaimed as he began to pace. "I wanted you and Charlie to ride together to talk not to jump into some weird-ass Shakespearean drama! And Rachel –" Miles paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Man, this is going to drive her off the deep end."

"She's wrong, you know," Bass said quietly. "I . . . used to be different. I'm going to be different."

"I really hope so, Bass," Miles sighed as he scraped his hands down his face. "And not only because I don't want to see Charlie hurt." He raised his head and looked over at Bass. "You've been eaten up by hate and fear long enough, brother." Bass moved as if to speak and Miles cut him off. "Don't think I'm any happier about this than Rachel is," he warned.

And," Miles warned menacingly as he stepped up to look Bass in the face, "the first hint I get that you're a danger to Charlie, you're done. Understand?"

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Rachel walked through the doorway into the front room as if she was in a trance. Gene looked up at her and frowned. "Rachel, what's wrong? Where the hell have you been?"

She jumped slightly at his voice and looked down as if surprised to find him there. "Nothing," she finally said faintly, ignoring his second question. "Nothing's wrong."

"Then where's the willow bark?" her father asked, confused. "Couldn't you find it?"

Rachel looked down at her empty hands and frowned. "No, I . . . didn't see it."

"OK," Gene said, confused. "I'll just go out and –"

"No!" Rachel snapped. "Don't go out there."

Gene rose to his feet and grasped Rachel's shoulders. "Rachel, what's going on?" he asked insistently.

Before Rachel could respond, Charlie stirred and Rachel dropped down next to the mattress. "Charlie?" she murmured, her eyes riveted to her daughter's face. "Honey, can you hear me?" Gene knelt down and placed gentle fingers on Charlie's wrist to check her pulse.

Charlie moaned and her head rolled to the side on the pillow. "Come on, Charlie, try to open your eyes," Gene coaxed. Her eyelids fluttered and he lightly ran the tip of a finger down her cheek. "That's it, kiddo, open your eyes."

Charlie's eyes opened slowly, her vision blurry, and shifted against the mattress. Pain knifed through her and she cried out weakly. "Honey, lay still," Rachel told her as she smoothed a cool hand over Charlie's fevered brow. "It's going to be OK."

Looking slowly from Rachel to Gene, Charlie smiled weakly. "Hey, guys," she whispered. "I guess you got it all, huh?"

"All of it," Gene confirmed as he smiled down at her. "You were very brave."

"Not really," Charlie replied, smiling faintly. "If it hadn't been for Miles and Bass –" She broke off and looked around the room again, missing the way her mother froze at the sound of Bass' name. "Where are they?" Charlie asked, oblivious to the turmoil raging through her mother. "Where's Bass?"

AN: Thanks for being so patient and I hope this chapter was worth the wait:) Thank you all very much for continuing to read, follow, favorite, and review my story. I'm so grateful for your encouragement and support and I'd love to hear what you think of this newest installment. XOXO