Poison and Wine
Chapter 38
Disclaimer: Revolution is not my property. I'm just playing around with it.
A/N: Major character death alert. Sorry.
Gun shots echoed all around them. The sound was slightly muffled by walls but occasionally one would ring loud and clear letting them know that they were being fired close by. The battle had been raging for the better part of twenty-four hours. Charlie had a bloody rag wrapped around her arm to stem the flow of blood caused by a slice of a sword. Bass had severed the Patriot's head before Charlie could even blink.
The White House was gone. Buildings were exploding all around them as the Patriots enacted their last ditch plan to destroy any records of their actions. Bass and Charlie had been separated from Miles for six hours after a building near them exploded. Both worked hard to keep the sickening fear from swallowing them whole. Neither would survive Miles' death very well. Through it all, Bass and Charlie clung to each other. Bass utterly refused to be more than steps away from Charlie after having endured the unspeakable agony of Nashville. It was mere instinct that had him wrapping his arms around Charlie seconds before the building had exploded so that the blast wouldn't separate them.
Together they stumbled through the smoky streets of Washington D.C. caused by building explosions and secondary fires. The air was thick with the smell of gunfire and the choking stench of fire and smoke. They'd tried to find Miles but everything was in chaos as people were shooting or engaging in hand-to-hand or sword fights in the streets. Several people had fallen from sniper fire. In all that chaos not even a tracker as skilled as Charlie was able to keep up with Miles' trail—if she'd even managed to find the right tracks to begin with. Their search was surrendered when they were fired upon by a sniper and they'd sought refuge.
The building was large. It was once an office building. They were seen going into the building and were followed by Patriots. Charlie and Bass were moving their way through the building towards the back exit. They finally saw a door with an old "Emergency Exit" sign on it and stumbled out of the building. The afternoon was on its last legs and people were losing the light to see targets with. Pretty soon people would hunker down through the evening and wait until the close hours before dawn before staging another assault.
Charlie and Bass ran across a parking lot littered with rusted out cars and an old school bus rolled on its side. They had to clear a cracked and pothole riddled street to reach a bar across the way. A Patriot wagon was speeding down the road—it was a miracle it hadn't broken an axle with the speed it was traveling on the uneven ground—as the couple pushed their legs furiously to eat up the ground as quickly as possible. It wouldn't do for them to be in such an exposed area for long.
Everything happened all at the same time.
They were spotted by the Patriot wagon.
Suddenly Charlie's legs just stopped. They nearly buckled underneath her. "Charlie?" Bass cried out when he noticed his wife hadn't kept his stride. He stumbled a few steps as he slowed and spun to go back to her side.
Shots rang out and Bass pulled Charlie to the nearest safety: behind the rolled over school bus. They heard shots as they hit the underbelly of the bus chassis.
The men following them inside the building burst out of the same door they had and immediately took fire upon them. A grunt from Bass pulled Charlie out of her daze and shot one in the chest as Bass shot the other in the head. "I'm nearly empty," Charlie said.
"Me too," Bass grunted.
"I'll go steal their guns while you lay down cover fire for me," Charlie said and took off running. Bass leaned around the edge of the bus and started firing at the Patriot Wagon. Charlie swung the two rifles over her shoulder, swiped any extra ammo and ran back towards Bass while she shot the automatic towards the wagon. She flinched a few times as spent shells zinged her but it was all par for the course.
She reached the bus and ran towards the opposite end of Bass's position and then proceeded to shoot at the Patriots once again. The light faded into a distant glimmer and Charlie and Bass waited but no return shots were volleyed at them. Charlie moved back towards Bass. "Here's one of the guns," she said.
"Oh-kay," Bass slurred.
"Bass?" Charlie asked worried. She fell to her knees, ignoring the shock of the hard pavement through her bones. "Are you okay?" She pulled him close to look into his face as best she could with the dim light. She noticed even in this light that his eyes were a little glazed and that her hand was wet. She knew what it was: blood. Thick and slick. "Bass, what happened? Why didn't you say you were hit?"
"There wasn't exactly time," Bass said.
"We need to get out of here and find some shelter. Maybe a lantern so I can take a look at that wound," Charlie said. "Can you stand, Bass?"
"Yeah," he said. It was a struggle between the two of them to get him to his feet and Bass staggered slightly almost as if he'd stood up too soon. Charlie swung the rifles over her shoulder and then acted as a crutch for the weakened Bass.
"Let's just get to that bar, okay?" Charlie said. "I'm sure there'll be a lantern in there and I can use some of the alcohol to sterilize my knife in case I have to dig the bullet out."
The walk was slow going and Bass tripped a couple times and nearly fell back onto the pavement. By the time Charlie had barricaded the door her body was dripping in sweat despite the brisk evening air. She and Bass hid out behind the bar. She figured it would provide the most security and wouldn't allow people to see a lit lantern if she managed to find one. Charlie stumbled around in a storage room until she found a lamp. Returning to Bass, she saw his eyes closed and lightly tapped his face to wake him up. "I'm going to look at the bullet wound, Bass. It might hurt. I found this strap in the back. Bite on this so you don't scream," she told him. By dim lamplight, Charlie inspected the wound that had cut through his left shoulder. There was an awful lot of blood on his shirt and she knew that blood loss and shock were going to be the biggest issues. The walk from the bus to the bar hadn't been a smart move in terms of stemming the blood flow but the only viable option to avoid being ambushed again.
"Bass you need to stay with me," Charlie commanded. She felt around the back of his shoulder and found an exit wound. That meant the shot had been through and through and she didn't need to dig out the bullet. Small blessing. The next concern was stopping the bleeding. She also needed to find a way to keep Bass warm. She couldn't risk lighting a fire in the fireplace. "I have to go find some blankets or something, Bass. Promise me you'll hang on okay? Don't leave me."
"I'm okay," Bass muttered.
Charlie bit back the hysteria that wanted to slip through. It felt so oddly reminiscent of her stepmother Maggie's death but that had been a stab wound to the leg against the counter of a defunct diner. Charlie had been taken away and in that time Maggie's condition had deteriorated such that Charlie barely made it back in time to say goodbye. It was the hardest steps Charlie ever took to let Bass out of her sight to find supplies. She'd already been twisted with worry over Miles' absence. So many of their friends and family's locations were unknown—Miles, Rachel, Connor, Bones, all of them. They had no way of knowing who was living and who wasn't.
Now she had her husband's blood on her hands.
And it was her fault.
She'd stopped. She'd panicked. Nearly twenty-four hours of fighting without thought and in one second she'd slipped. Because she thought she recognized a face on that wagon. It wasn't even likely that the face belonged to who she thought. Her error may cost Bass his life and she didn't know how she'd ever live with herself knowing that.
A fast search gave Charlie a couple of blankets, some cloth to use as bandages, some liquor and a jug of water and jerky strips to eat. It wasn't much but she'd worked with less. Though it made the memory of her death fresh, Charlie kept trying to remember all of the things Maggie forced her to learn over the years. She ran back to Bass and stumbled into a table and chair. She swore at herself but kept moving back towards Bass, afraid of every second he wasn't within her sight.
"Bass?" Charlie asked as she knelt down beside him. His eyes were closed and she tamped down the panic. His eyes fluttered open and her relief was brief but sweet.
"Charlie?" Bass replied.
"Stay with me, Bass. Don't you dare die on me, Sebastian Monroe," Charlie snarled. Charlie packed the cloth around the wound to help staunch the blood flow. Then she pulled his General's jacket back around and buttoned it so he'd keep warm. For the first time in her life, Charlie was thankful that he had on the uniform because the wool material was warm and would help in the battle to stave off shock. She wrapped the blankets tightly around him and forced him to drink some of the water. Then she broke off pieces of the jerky and made him eat some. He didn't want to stay awake enough to chew and she had to slap him on the face to keep him conscious. The water and the food seemed to give him a little bit of energy which relieved Charlie somewhat.
"You need to leave Charlie," Bass told her.
"No."
"I'm serious. They are going to come back, either sometime in the middle of the night or in the morning. They know we are in the area," Bass told her. "You aren't safe and I'll just slow you down if we try to get away on foot. Go. Make your way back to the train."
"Absolutely not. I'm not leaving without you," Charlie informed him.
"I don't want you to die for me, Charlotte," Bass begged.
"Stop it!" Charlie snapped and grabbed his face. "I'm not going to die and I'm not going to leave you here to die. We promised remember? Promises! They meant something." She flashed her wrist in his face to remind him of his promises to her.
"I promised to protect you. This is how I can now," Bass argued.
"No. I don't believe that. Besides I made a promise to always look out for you. I can't do that if I just leave you here to possibly be ambushed alone," Charlie reminded. "And maybe you're right. Maybe this is where we'll die but I'd rather die right here with you than know I ran away and left you to die alone. You don't get to ask me that of me. So shut-up."
"Don't cry, Charlie," Bass beseeched.
"Then don't be an idiot," Charlie snapped. She angrily swiped at her damp cheeks.
"It's cold. Take one of the blankets, Charlie," Bass told her.
"No. You need them to help prevent shock. We'll wait until it's light out and if I have to I'll go out then and find my grandfather or anyone else to help move you," Charlie told him. "But I won't leave you without looking back so don't ask me to do that again."
"Okay. I won't. As long as you answer me something and share the blankets with me," Bass bargained.
"What?" Charlie asked confused. But she pulled the blankets around her and snuggled close to Bass to give him what little body heat she had.
"Why did you stop running before? That's not like you. What happened?" Bass asked.
"It's stupid and so foolish because it caused you to get shot. I'm so sorry," Charlie apologized.
"Hey. I'm not asking you for an apology—which I don't need anyway—I'm asking you for the truth."
Charlie took in a shuddering breath in and out. "I thought I saw Calder on that wagon."
"Calder? The one from Nashville?" Bass asked.
Charlie nodded her head. "Yeah. I mean, I know I'm wrong because what are the chances? But I swear for one moment I saw his face again and I just remembered everything he did to me in that room. I was weak."
"Charlotte Matheson-Monroe, you are a lot of things but weak is not one of 'em," Bass argued. "You went through hell. It's only natural that you'd have some reaction. Frankly, I hope you were right."
"What?!"
"Charlie, you just told me that the man who captured you and tortured you and nearly killed you is nearby. Revenge is quite a powerful motivation to stay alive so that I can find him and return the favor to him," Bass said.
"But you're right. They might come back. We're going to have to stay awake all night," Charlie told him.
"Okay."
Really Charlie needed to stay awake to monitor Bass and she needed him awake because she was afraid that he'd slip into unconsciousness. Patriots were a secondary worry at the moment.
"Tell me a story," Bass said.
"Did I ever tell you one about how I outwitted your Militia?" Charlie answered.
"Doesn't surprise me," Bass snorted. "Tell me."
Charlie went onto to tell him that one year the tax collectors from the local garrison came and taxed her village so heavily that they lost nearly all their harvest and her village people were starving. It was a brutal winter and game was hard to find and people were getting sick. Danny started losing a lot of weight and his breathing became difficult. Furious and determined not to watch her brother die, Charlie had organized a group of people in her village best at hunting and tracking. She led them up into the wooded mountains and they trekked through the snow until they came across a cave. Quick inspection told them there was a bear inside.
"I knew it heard us because bears can hear you even while they are hibernating," Charlie said. "So we set out to lure it out of the cave."
Once the bear had emerged from the cave prepared to defend itself against an intruder, Charlie took her shot on a perch above the cave. She felled the animal with two arrows. It wasn't a huge bear but it was meat. As they began their descent down the mountainside they also came across two deer and some smaller game. Together they all hauled their finds down the mountainside and loaded them on a wagon that they'd kept hidden at the base and returned to Sylvania. The portions were small because many homes had several people, but there was food and they survived the winter without starving to death.
"I vowed never to go through that again and I didn't," Charlie told him.
"How?"
"That spring as soon as the ground thawed I found the perfect location for a root cellar," Charlie told him. She had spent years tracking the Militiamen around her village. Every year they always took the same route in and the same route out. She found a good location that wouldn't be found by them as they were traveling so the militia would never know that Sylvania had hidden away some of their crops. Everyone worked in shifts tending the gardens and livestock and also working on the root cellar. They started moving crops to the cellar under cover of darkness.
"How did they not suspect anything when your bounty was smaller than last year?" Bass wondered.
"I made sure that it didn't look noticeably different and we worked hard to grow extra anyway," Charlie explained. "But the real kicker was that we still acted the same as normal when they came to collect. We protested that they would be leaving us to starve and they threatened to tax us harder and we relented. They bought it hook, line and sinker."
Bass coughed out a rough laugh. "How old were you?"
"Fifteen," Charlie said.
"Of course. God Charlie you're remarkable," Bass commented. "You were a leader at fifteen."
She shrugged as if it was no big deal but then she snorted a small laugh.
"What?"
"That reminded me that Aaron used to call me the 'Unofficial Mayor of Sylvania' because my dad was technically," Charlie answered.
"I think Miles and I should have kept walking until we caught up with your family. Maybe if we had things would have turned out a lot differently with the Republic," Bass lamented.
"Maybe. But we'll never know," Charlie said.
They exchanged stories throughout the night but Bass struggled to get the words out as the hours progressed. The exhaustion and crash of adrenaline hit them both hard. They fell asleep. The creaking of an old wooden board woke Charlie up. She looked around quickly trying to gather her bearings when she remembered the night before. She looked at Bass and panicked that she'd fallen asleep and that he had too. She tried to wake him up as quietly as she could but he wouldn't. Panic melted into hysteria. She took slow deep breaths to center herself. Charlie grabbed a couple of the rifles and moved towards the end of the counter. She hovered there before turning around the corner, with her rifle already set to fire.
"Put the gun down, kid," Miles snapped at her.
It took her exhausted brain a second to compute that it was her uncle and not Patriots come to slaughter them. "Miles? But how?" Charlie managed to sputter as she lowered the gun.
"The explosion blew me into a nearby alleyway. I was pinned down for a while but I shot myself out. By the time I did, you guys were gone," he explained. "I've been trying to find you two idiots since and manage to defeat the Patriots at the same time."
"What?"
"We won. It's over," Miles said. "Bones and his crew returned their favor in the form of explosives. Patriots crumbled pretty fast after that. Of course there are some that fled the city but not enough to make any difference now," Miles told her. "Where's Bass?"
Charlie gulped. "It's bad Miles. He was shot. We've been here all night." She moved him around the counter and showed him where Bass was slouched against the counter.
"Let's move him together," Miles said. "We'll use the blankets to carry him."
Together they laid out his body on the blankets and hauled him up and out of the bar. They each had a pair of rifles over their shoulders just in case any straggling Patriots decided for one last hurrah. A few of their fellow soldiers came across them and helped carry Bass to a nearby wagon. They transported him to the makeshift hospital tent that Gene had set up once everyone had set off from camp towards Washington.
Charlie made her grandfather personally attend to Bass' injury. It was a clean shot and Charlie had done a good job of mitigating any secondary effects. Gene treated for infection even though Charlie had poured alcohol around the wound, her only means of disinfecting anything. Bass' back had bowed painfully and his teeth had gouged the strap she'd given him to bite down when she'd done it. Gene stitched him up and said that he needed a blood transfer because that was really the worst part of it. Thankfully the bullet had missed the carotid artery.
Charlie kept vigil over her husband after Miles had donated some blood. The blood loss combined with exhaustion had forced Miles onto a cot into the main part of the tent. Bass was in a sequestered area away from prying eyes. It allowed Charlie privacy to pray and cry over Bass and beg him to not leave her. Or as private as it could be with people coming in to check on Bass or to see if she needed anything. Charlie had gotten to the point where she didn't even look up at them anymore. Her eyes were focused on Bass as if the heat of her gaze could force him awake.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance, Charlie Matheson." The voice quickly followed the sound of the curtain being pulled back. The sound of it snapped Charlie's head up and pulled her from her reverie. "You ruined everything. I was so surprised to see you'd survived that explosion in Nashville. It was some of my finest work."
"Calder," Charlie said the name like a swear word.
"Don't be like Charlie. You were some of my finest work too," he taunted.
Charlie stood and made to reach the gun nearby but Calder beat her by raising his on her. "Ah-ah. Don't be that way, Charlie."
"You'll never get out of here alive, Calder. Even if you kill me."
"I know. But as long as I kill you it'll be worth it. You destroyed years of work and planning you stupid bitch," Calder snarled.
"Good." Charlie was glib. She saw his hand trembling around the gun, watched the weapon wavering in the air. Charlie didn't know if it was from the adrenaline of a near kill or the fear that once he pulled the trigger his death warrant was signed. Knowing Calder it was probably both. She refused to close her eyes. Calder would have to look her in the eyes as he killed her. Not that it would make any difference for him but for Charlie it meant everything. She would not hide from her death. She would not give Calder an ounce of her fear.
"Charlie—" the voice came behind Charlie at the same moment she saw Calder make his decision to pull the trigger.
Rachel stepped into the tent and processed the scene quickly. She moved swiftly and pushed Charlie down as the shot rang in the tent. The impact sent Charlie careening to the ground, near the pile of weapons she'd left by the bottom of the bed. Her hand grabbed the handle of Bass' sword and she rolled out from under the bed near Calder. Charlie lunged up to her feet, startling Calder and she swung the blade knocking the gun out of his hand and sending the second shot wild and out through the tent ceiling. Charlie took the sword handle in both hands, drew back her arms and plunged the blade right in Calder's chest. For good measure she twisted the blade. The surprise and the pain were carved into his face and Charlie denied him the last word: "I told you that you'd never live for long you bastard."
Charlie pulled the blade from his chest. In the back of her mind Charlie heard the sounds of people moving around trying to find the source of the shots but she didn't pay attention. A quick glance assured her that Bass wasn't harmed but he was starting to stir. Charlie jumped around the end of the bed and dropped to her knees where her mother lay on the ground. The bullet had hit her right in the abdomen and already the front of her shirt was covered in blood. Instinct told Charlie it wasn't good.
"Mom! Mom," Charlie called out as she grabbed her mother. "Help! Help!"
"Charlie…" Rachel spoke softly. "Love you…"
In the few seconds it took people to push inside the tent she took her last breath. Those were the last words Rachel Matheson ever spoke.