Charlie panted through the pain, clutching at her side, pinned down under the half-collapsed wall. All around her, gunfire continued. Turning her head, she watched Miles charge at the enemy, guns blazing, running for more cover to annihilate the last of the bastards tormenting them.

"Charlie!" Aaron was shouting, having seen her predicament despite the way he cowered beyond a rusted-out old 4WD with his hands over his head, trying to make his large body as small as possible. "Charlie!"

Charlie gritted her teeth. Her legs were pinned, and she was pretty sure she'd been shot because something on her left thigh burned like hellfire, but her arms were free. Aiming her gun awkwardly, breathing through the agony, Charlie lined up another Patriot and squeezed the trigger, ending his life before he could pounce on Monroe.

Bass twisted in surprise when the bastard she'd shot fell on him where he stood with his back to the enemy that would've cut his throat, his eyes snapping blue steel and hard fire as he shrugged off the enemy before realizing that he was already dead, a bullet-hole straight through his temple. His eyes searched quickly, scanning for more threats, but Miles was putting the last of them down, once and for all.

Monroe's eyes fell on Charlie when he followed the bullet's trajectory from his would-be killer to his savior. His eyes widened when he recognized her.

"Charlie, shit!" he shouted. "Stay there. I'm coming to get you."

Charlie snorted, watching him duck for cover before he zig-zagged his way toward her, dodging more gunfire as he ran.

"Stay here? Really?" she taunted him through the pain when he reached her. "There's a wall on top of me, genius."

"Shut it, Charlotte," he growled, tearing at the bricks and concrete trapping her.

Charlie whimpered as he flung it off her in a Hulk-like rage, hurling bits of the crumbled building away from her with frightening and violent efficiency.

"I think I'm hit, Bass," Charlie said quietly when he hauled more rubble off her.

"You'll be fine," he told her grimly, refusing to make room for any other scenario.

Charlie wasn't so sure.

She bit her tongue, trying to help him free her when he grunted under the effort of moving such heavy objects.

"Can you crawl out if I lift this?" he asked. "I can't throw it off you."

"I can try," Charlie nodded before snatching up her gun and spraying bullets at three men who'd gotten by Miles's assault line and were bearing down on them.

Bass turned, his gun tossed aside but his sword flashing viciously at the one Charlie missed, opening his throat ruthlessly.

"Fuck, Miles is struggling," he muttered, his eyes scanning the battlefield. "I gotta..."

He looked back at Charlie, indecision warring in his eyes, needing to save her and save Miles in equal measure.

"Shit," he growled before he dived back down to her, hauling the rubble up.

Charlie scrambled, using her arms to drag herself from under the fallen hunks of the wall as best she could. She couldn't hold back her scream of agony when she tried to pull herself free and the burning in her thigh worsened.

"Fuck. What? Charlie? What?" he growled, the fury and fear fighting for dominance in those expressive eyes of his, giving him away where his face and his voice never would.

"I think..." Charlie panted. "I think there must be a metal rod from the wall impaled through my leg."

"Shit," he cursed again.

"Bass, save Miles," Charlie insisted, reaching for his forearm and squeezing it, stopping him before he could give himself a hernia trying to haul the too-heavy lump of the wall off Charlie's body. "Promise me. Save him. I can't lose Miles, too."

His eyes searched her face. "Charlie," he said quietly.

"Save him," Charlie insisted. "Take this. Help him."

She reached for her gun again, pushing it at him.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"Go," she insisted fiercely. "If he dies because you're fucking around, I'll kill you myself, you idiot."

His mouth twisted grimly, and he nodded, taking the gun and moving to rise. Panic seized her for a terrible moment when Charlie glanced down the length of her body where she could feel and see the pool of blood spreading under her. She was definitely injured, and badly.

Before Bass could rise from his crouch, his eyes already on Miles and the gun already lifted, firing at enemy soldiers remorselessly, Charlie reached for him again. He glanced down at her, his eyes questioning when she fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him back down to her. She struggled to rise, reaching to meet him. She didn't let him speak or second-guess what was happening before she crashed her lips against his for the very first time.

Maybe for the very last time.

He huffed in surprise against her lips, but he didn't pull away, opening to her when Charlie licked at his lips, begging entrance. She kissed him hard, trying to throw every emotion she had about this horrible, difficult, wretched, wonderful, frightening, protective bastard that had walked into her life and walked out of it too many times to count but who always, always came back.

When they broke apart after a few delirious seconds, Charlie was panting even worse, the pain building.

"Just in case," she whispered when his eyes filled with questions. "Go. Save Miles so we can get this damn thing off of me."

Sebastian Monroe searched her face for a few more precious seconds.

"Don't you dare die on me, Charlotte," he growled, his hand moving to cup her cheek and his forehead briefly pressing to hers. "Stay here. I'll come back for you, I swear."

Charlie laughed weakly, thinking about reminding him that she had no choice but to stay here since she was pinned. She didn't. Instead, she spoke the one simple truth she'd come to learn about this man who made her hot and cold and angry and deliriously happy all at once.

"You always do," she whispered, closing her eyes and sighing tiredly, beginning to feel lightheaded.

Bass sighed too before he pressed a rough kiss to her forehead and rose, running toward the fight, the bang of the rifle sounding again and again as he picked off their enemies. She could hear them shouting, though Miles and Bass had both run beyond her view now.

"Charlie?" Aaron called out helplessly and it occurred to Charlie when she opened tear-filled eyes and offered him a pained but reassuring smile that they really should teach Aaron how to shoot so that he might be more useful than just a hysterical lump cowering and waiting for the others to protect him. It'd been long enough and he'd seen enough to know what life at war was like.

Charlie made a vow to herself that if she lived through this, she would teach him to shoot and teach him to fight. That she would make sure that if the time ever came, like now, where she might not make it, where Miles and Bass and the others might begin to see him only as a burden instead of one of the most loyal men she'd ever known, he would be okay, even if Charlie was gone.

"I'm okay, Aaron," she called back. "Just stuck."

He didn't need to know about the blood dampening her jeans and pooling under her. He didn't need to know about the agony. But when she looked at him through the lenses of his dirty, scratched, old and banged-up glasses, she could tell that he knew it was a lie.

"Charlie!" he called again. "Don't go to sleep. Don't close your eyes. Hey, look at me! You don't get to leave me, Charlie. You don't... I can't... not you too."

Charlie smiled weakly, seeing his panic and his love. He had taught her math and science when she'd been young. She and Danny. He'd grown frustrated with her over and over again when she had more interest in sneaking out of class and going hunting, rather than learning about history and the science of why the leaves changed every season. He was the last vestige of the life and the innocence she'd left behind in Sylvania Estates when her father had died. It occurred to her as she laid there watching his panicked face that she might've lost Danny, but that Danny really hadn't been her only brother. She had Aaron, too.

"MILES!" Aaron started yelling, seeing the way Charlie's eyes started to flutter closed. "MONROE!"

More gunfire sounded and the ring of swords filled the air before the slump of falling bodies met her ears.

"Charlotte, don't you dare," a familiar rasping voice growled, and Charlie opened her eyes to find Monroe looming over her as he raced closer. "Aaron, get over here and help me lift this. Miles! A little help!?"

"You came back," Charlie breathed to Bass when he leaned down, squeezing her shoulder while the others rushed to help him save her. "You always come back to me, Monroe."

He met her eyes as Miles reached them.

"Always will," he murmured quietly.

Charlie smiled, comforted by the words, by the knowledge that she knew they were true. Even when he'd tried to leave her time and time again, he couldn't do it. Not since she'd tried to beat him to death outside New Vegas. Even when he had every reason to run and not come back for her, he'd returned. Even in the school when odds were grim and he'd taken the stairwell exit, leaving her at the mercy of Patriot soldiers, he hadn't been able to stay away for long.

"Alright, I think she's got a spike through her leg. We lift it up and off," he was saying to Miles and Aaron. "On three, ready? One. Two. Three!"

Charlie screamed, feeling whatever foreign object must be embedded in her flesh rip free.

"Shit, shit, shit," Miles was muttering. "Hang in there, kid. We've got you."

"Charlie," Aaron said. "Don't die. You're gonna be okay. You're always okay. You can't leave me, Charlie. Who's going to look out for me if you die?"

Charlie opened her eyes.

"Bass and Miles will," Charlie promised him quietly, holding his eyes before looking to Miles and then to Monroe. Bass's mouth twisted in that grim line it always found when he had to do something he didn't particularly want to do.

"Don't die, and we won't have to find out," he growled. "Fuck. That's a lot of blood. Damn it, Charlie!"

Charlie groaned when he scooped his arms under her, one under her back, the other under her knees, before he hoisted her into the air, cradling her against his chest.

"You got her, Bass?" Miles asked, worriedly. "I can take her."

"With that bullet hole in your arm, Miles? Really?" Bass growled. "Let's move. We've got to get her back to the doc. This is bigger than field medicine."

He turned and started to run out of their battle zone. Charlie whimpered, turning her face into his neck, one of her arms wrapped around his shoulders while the other fisted the front of his shirt as she fought the urge to scream with every jolting step he took.

"I know, baby. I know. I'm sorry," he apologized into her hair. "Almost there, Charlie. C'mon. Just a bit further. Don't die on me, angel."

The whole way he murmured to her, his words soothing some of the pain. She was fading. She could feel it. Her jeans were sodden with blood loss and she was getting cold, her teeth started to chatter as shock and imminent death crept ever closer.

"I think... think it hit an artery," Charlie said.

"No," he bit out, refusing to believe it. Leaving no room for that kind of thing happening to her.

"Bass..." Charlie murmured, tipping her eyes up to look at his face.

He was grimy from battle, blood-spattered across one of his cheeks, bruises forming on his jaw and under his left eye. He had a gash through his left eyebrow and blood trickled from it slowly.

"Don't say it, Charlotte," he gritted his teeth. "I'm not losing you too. I won't."

Charlie bit her lip, seeing the hard set of his jaw and the fear and the anger and the helplessness and hatred for the entire world glittering in his blue, blue eyes. She knew he'd lost everyone else he'd ever cared about. His parents and his sisters were all dead. His son had turned traitor and hadn't been seen or heard from in months. All he had left was Miles. Miles and Charlie. And looking at him now, Charlie could see that if he had to lose anyone else that he cared about, it would break him once and for all.

He was already unhinged, but when his eyes darted down to meet hers as she reached to run her fingers over his cheek, she could see that if he lost her, he was done. He would check out for good. He'd probably go full Rambo and wipe every last Patriot from the map first, but she could see the fear in his eyes that said he knew what would happen without her, and it terrified him as much as it did her. They weren't a couple. They never had been. That kiss on the battlefield had been their first and if he didn't hurry, it might be their last; their only shared moment where his lips met her and utterly devoured everything she was and everything she knew. But she could see it in his eyes that whatever this thing between them that had been there from the beginning, all the way back in a cell in Philly, was, it mattered to him and without it, he would snap his bolt for good.

"Bass," she whispered again, but before she could say more, they were back at the safe-house and Miles was yelling for Gene to "get his kit and to fix her, goddamn it, don't let her die!"

Bass laid her on the table in the rickety safe-house kitchen, and suddenly her Mom and her Grandpa were there, ready to patch her up, their medical knowledge and skill the only thing standing between Charlie and oblivion. Their skill, and Sebastian's Monroe steely gaze. His jaw was set when Charlie turned her head to look at him. He wouldn't meet her eyes and Charlie knew he feared he'd have to watch the light leave them.

Dimly, she could hear Miles and Aaron telling her bordering-on-hysterical mother what had happened and how their supply run had turned to shit so fast. Charlie didn't really hear them. Grandpa had injected something into her thigh that was taking the pain away and when she looked, she saw that he'd cut her jeans right off her body, leaving her leg exposed. There was blood on her underwear, her own, from lying in the pool of it under that wall, but Charlie was too far gone to really care, even if she had really liked these jeans.

Across the room, standing far enough away to be out of the way but still close enough to help and to witness it all, Monroe stood with his arms folded, his eyes fixed on her leg and everything Grandpa was doing to fix it. Miles was holding her hand, one of his hands pinning her shoulder to the table to keep her from writhing in agony as her wound was washed out with disinfectant before the stitching started. Aaron was on her other side, muttering about how she couldn't die and how she would be okay, and asking her to remember all the times in Sylvania Estates before the militia had come and ripped her peaceful, boring world to shreds. Talking about Ben and Danny and Maggie and how Charlie had never listened in class; talking about how she'd cut her hand hunting once, and how this was just like that and she'd be fine because she was tough, and she was brave and fearless and how she wouldn't let something like this beat her.

Under the brave words, she could hear his terror. It occurred to Charlie that Aaron loved her as much as anyone else in this room, though she doubted she'd done much to earn it. It occurred to her when she lifted her head to peer down the length of her body and past where Grandpa worked tirelessly that her mother was terrified that she was going to lose another child. The madness gleamed in her eyes tonight and Charlie bit her lip, recalling how broken Rachel had been after Danny, after the Tower, after all, she had survived and all she had done.

There was another person who would lose it for good if Charlie died. They had their issues, myriad and messy, but Charlie knew on some level that her mother really did love her. Maybe it was a different kind of love than what she'd imagined a mother should have for her daughter, but Rachel did love her fiercely. She wouldn't make it if Charlie gave in to the darkness now.

Grandpa glanced at Charlie's face, lifted as it was as she morbidly turned her attention to where he was playing in the blood seeping from her thigh, the flesh slowly being knotted back together under his needle and clever fingers. He gave her a brave smile that she was sure he meant to be reassuring, but she could see the fear in his eyes, too. Grandpa loved her. Grandpa understood her far more than she'd expected, too. He had accepted she was an adult and a soldier and that there was little he could do or say to shape the woman she'd become, even if sometimes when he looked her, he wished for the little girl she'd once been.

Charlie gave him a brave smile in return even though he was hurting her. Even though she wasn't sure he could save her this time. Her gaze drifted to Miles and she could see the sweat dotting his brow and the pale hue of his familiar face. Monroe had said Miles had taken a bullet. He needed to get that looked at, Charlie thought idly, though she knew no one in this room, especially not Miles himself, would prioritize his bullet wound over Charlie's leg wound.

"Hang in there, kid," he grinned at her, though the smile didn't reach his dark eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," Charlie promised, searching his face and seeing that though he'd never said it and though he probably struggled with it, he loved her. He loved her as much as any father would. She didn't know if he was her uncle or her father. She'd thought she knew, but sometimes she found herself mimicking things he did and things he said without even realizing and Monroe would smirk at her when she caught herself and he would raise one eyebrow and he would get that look on his face like he knew something she didn't, and she'd begun to doubt that Ben Matheson had been her biological father.

"Damn straight," Miles agreed.

"Did the bullet go straight through?" she asked.

"You have a stab wound, not a bullet wound, Charlie," her mother corrected her, sounding worried. "Did she hit her head, too?"

Charlie just looked at Miles and raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to admit it.

"I think so," he nodded.

"You're next on this table," she told him seriously. "Promise me."

"Miles?" Rachel asked. "You… you got shot?"

"I'm fine," Miles insisted.

Charlie doubted it. His hand was shaking in hers as he tried to hold her steady while Grandpa worked.

"Promise me, Miles," Charlie said quietly. "Promise me you'll let Grandpa wash it out and stitch it up and that you won't let it get infected."

"Charlie," he warned, sensing that she wanted the promise in case she died.

"Promise. Me," Charlie bit out, lowering her voice so that only Miles would hear her. "Promise me you won't check out or go full-psycho, too."

His eyes widened and Charlie nodded at her mother and then at Monroe where he stood, immobile in the corner.

"Charlie…" Miles said.

"They need you," Charlie reminded him quietly. "Promise me you won't drink yourself to death."

"You're not going to die," he growled at her.

"Promise me anyway," she insisted. "Say it. Say, 'Charlie, I'll watch out for myself so that I can protect them'."

Miles narrowed his eyes one her.

"Charlie, I'll watch out for myself so that I can protect them," he parroted, though he looked bitter and angry while he glared at her. "I promise."

Charlie sighed, smiling, some more of the pain drifting away.

"Thank you," she breathed.

"Charlie," Aaron whispered worriedly.

"I'm okay, Aaron," she promised him, turning to meet his eyes. "I am. I swear. I'll be back up and at it in no time."

Aaron looked like he wanted to believe her but had seen too much of the way of the world they lived in to know it was anything other than a lie.

"And when I do," she said quietly, reaching to pat his arm, grinning. "You're gonna hate it because I'm going to make you learn to fight and I'm going to teach you to shoot."

"Charlie," he said weakly.

"No arguments," she shook her head. "It's time, Aaron. The nano has abandoned you, right? No more being able to set people on fire with your mind? So, you're learning. We'll get you a sword. It'll be like one of those video games you used to tell us about when we were kids. Guns and swords and bloodshed and never giving up as long as the mission continues."

"Charlie, I'm not… I can't…" Aaron argued.

"Aaron?" she interrupted his weak protests.

He stopped talking, waiting for her to speak.

"You're a wanted fugitive, buddy," she grinned at him.

"I'm a nerd," he disagreed.

Charlie scoffed.

"A nerd who walked thousands of miles and shot a mentally unhinged drug dealer and set a bunch of guys on fire with his mind," she pointed out. "A nerd who has been in the thick of it alongside us even with madmen and hardened soldiers shooting at you and trying to kill you and you've kept going every time. When are you going to accept that you're not weak? That you're not just a geek who drinks too much and wishes the power had never gone out? You're not that scared kid getting bullied on the playground anymore, Aaron. You're a killer and a criminal and a geeky genius guy who can and probably will find a way to end the nano and get the lights back on once and for all. Stop selling yourself short, okay?"

Aaron's eyes were full of tears and his chin trembled with barely contained emotion.

"Okay," he choked out, dropping his eyes to the hand he held, overwhelmed.

"Good," she said. "We'll start tomorrow. Basic hand-to-hand combat."

"You won't be in any shape, Charlie," Grandpa interrupted.

Charlie lifted her head and glanced back down the length of her body where he was still trying to staunch the bleeding and sew her would shut from the inside, out.

"Just watch me, Gramps," she challenged, and Miles snorted, looking away and trying to hide a pained laugh at her use of Monroe's favorite nickname for Gene.

"Charlie," her mother sighed. "You need rest, sweetheart."

Charlie rolled her eyes.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," she replied, craning her neck to look past Miles and toward Monroe.

He was trying to avoid her eyes, but Charlie knew the weight of her gaze always pressed on him when she watched him. He shifted his shoulders before finally, his eyes moved to meet hers. His face held a warning, just daring her to try and elicit promises or goodbyes out of him; daring her to even think about leaving him when he'd lost everyone else. Charlie smiled gently.

"We should find Connor," she told him quietly and his face twitched in surprise and pain at the mention of the son who'd walked out on him. "He's probably going crazy with Captain Neville by now."

"Charlie," he sighed, his eyes begging her not to talk about it. Not to even suggest it. Not to tease him with the promise of finding his kid and having her by his side when he did it.

"I don't think it'd be that hard," she mused conversationally even though the pain in her leg was worsening again, some of the drugs grandpa had given her already beginning to wear off. Unconsciousness was threatening now, dancing at the corners of her vision in pretty, dark sparkles. "Neville's a power player. He'll already be climbing the next political ladder, looking for an angle, trying to find some way to amass a command for himself. He'll be making waves somewhere. We'll find him, and if Connor's not with him, we'll beat him until he tells us where the big shithead went."

Bass looked tortured.

Charlie kept smiling, aware that her body had begun to tremble, growing colder now. Her mind wanted to drift, but she had to focus. She had to stay. She couldn't just float away. Her eyes begged him to come closer, hating that he'd removed himself from her reach. He resisted, shaking his head, not daring to get too close when he looked so certain that she was a goner.

"Don't make me get up and come to you," she said when he wouldn't move.

Everyone looked at him. Even Grandpa.

"Charlotte," Monroe warned again, and she could tell he wanted to run away.

Charlie raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not gonna stand here and say goodbye to you, kid," he growled at her. "It's too fucking morbid."

"Good," she said, unbothered by his aggression. "C'mere anyway. I wanna tell you a secret."

He glared at her, his chin lifting, and he looked like he was going to walk away.

"Charlie," her mother said quietly, obviously not liking this exchange between the man she despised and the daughter she wanted to protect.

"Don't be a pussy, Monroe," Charlie huffed, her eyes narrowing when he didn't budge. "You want me to get up off this table before Grandpa's done with me and kick your ass? Is that it?"

His eyes snapped fire and hatred and worry and fear and frustration and just how badly he really didn't want to even think about something that might resemble a final moment with her.

"Bass," Miles said quietly when Charlie squeezed his hand, growing impatient and willing to enlist assistance to guilt the stubborn moron into cooperating.

"Not you too, Miles," Bass shook his head, looking like he hated them.

"Just do it," Charlie growled. "Now."

He took a deep breath in, looking away, his hands clenched into fists before he unfolded his arms and huffed, shaking his head and crossing the room.

"What?" he growled when he stood next to her, looking down at her hostilely.

"Closer," Charlie grinned. "It's a secret, moron. I bet you were really bad at Chinese Whispers, weren't you?"

"The worst," Miles insisted sardonically from next to Monroe. Bass gritted his teeth before he bent forward, closer to her.

"Closer," Charlie teased, eliciting a growl of annoyance from him when she dropped Miles's hand and reached to fist the front of Monroe's shirt again, dragging him all the way down until her lips were right next to his ear.

She glanced at Aaron for a moment when she noticed that everyone, namely her mother, was listening hard, obviously desperate to hear what she said. She widened her eyes at the man, and he glanced around before his mouth twitched and he suddenly began to cough loudly.

With the noise of his hacking filling the air, Charlie pressed her lips to Bass's ear.

"That was a hell of a kiss, Monroe," she told him, seeing his fist clench where he rested it on the table by her head for balance and he leaned over her.

He sighed and Charlie laughed as he started to pull away before she pulled him back down by the front of his shirt.

"Hey," she said quietly, letting go of his shirt and smoothing her hand over the side of his neck to the back of it, her fingers tangling into his curls. "You don't really think you're going to get rid of me that easy, do you? Come on."

"Charlie," he protested quietly, and Charlie was aware of her family's eyes on her while Aaron kept pretending to cough, gesticulating like he needed water and was sorry for causing such a fuss.

While none of them could see, Charlie nipped Monroe's earlobe, feeling him tense immediately.

"You know I'm always gonna come back for you too, right," she whispered to him before letting her hand fall away, releasing him.

His eyes were full of pain and sadness and something else that she didn't dare name in front of her family when she might be dying, but Charlie offered him a reassuring smile even as unconsciousness rushed up to claim her. At least for a little while.