AN: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! And a special thanks to Iceonfire, Ryansdreammaker, and the Guest who reviewed my last chapter. You guys really helped me push through and get this chapter posted much sooner than I envisioned.

Bass woke up to the sound of his own neck snapping. Eyes flying open, he jerked awake and jumped to his feet only to see… his lifeless body lying on the ground at his feet.

What the Hell?

Bass looked down. He was still dressed in the same clothes he'd fallen asleep in that evening. The same clothes that the body in front of his was wearing.

Monroe frowned in confusion. Hesitantly, he took a step forward.

There was a body in his tent.

A. Body.

And it looked a Hell of a lot like him.

Bass shook his head, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. He needed to call Forbes; find out what the Hell was going on…

But something deep inside his head told him that even Forbes wouldn't have that answer.

And then he saw it – another figure, kneeling over his body, steady hands still wrapped around the body's throat. The man – it looked like a man – gradually pulled back. The whites of his familiar brown eyes gleamed with reflected light, and the flash of his teeth as he let out an unsteady chuckle were enough to send a shiver of dread down even Bass's spine.

In a daze, Bass stood by and watched as his murderer reached out to touch the body's still, twisted neck with two fingers – checking for a pulse. For a moment, Bass thought he could feel the icy fingers on the side of his own neck, probing for life-

Bass jerked away from the phantom touch, his mind snapping back into focus. He didn't have time to stand around waiting for it all to make sense. He needed answers.

Cautiously, Bass approached the man, taking care to stay in tent's many shadows. But strangely, the man didn't seem to notice him. He was too busy staring down at his victim, who, as Bass got closer, began to look more and more like the man Bass always saw in the mirror. But lifeless. And pale – like he'd never even been alive to begin with.

As Bass stared down at his own corpse, he could feel his heart rate begin to spike.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

But before that really sank in, a deep, dark chuckle snagged Bass's attention. Looking back towards the murderer, Bass suddenly felt a sick sense of recognition in the pit of his stomach.

The man had the same familiar slicked-back hair, sharp brown eyes, and sarcastic half-smile. Only just now, that smile looked a bit twisted.

Alex.

Monroe watched in shock as his second-in-command rose up, dusted off his spotless pants, and turned to leave.

"Alex?" Monroe's voice was saturated in disbelief.

The major paused for a moment, turning his dark head to look back at the body on the ground. And then, with a slow smile, he left, the tent flap fluttering shut behind him.

Eyes wide, Bass looked back down at his own body lying on the flood. None of it made any sense… And Alex?

Unless…

"Am I – dead?" Bass's voice wasn't even loud enough to be called a whisper. It was the barest exhale of breath, carrying with it a deadly certainty that seeing truly was believing. And believing made it real.

"Well, wouldn't that be a nice surprise?"

Bass jerked around, nearly losing his balance in the process. And then his heart really did stop beating in his chest.

"Miles…" Standing at the other end on the tent, his brother looked fit to kill. His brown eyes were glowing with something violent, and his hands were fisted at his sides.

"It's been a while, Bass." Miles shook his head slowly, his serious, dark eyes trained on Monroe's face.

"Miles…" Bass stopped, unable to continue. There was his best friend, standing right in front of him for the first time in almost a year, and he just… didn't know what to say. But Miles sure as Hell did.

"Yeah, I'd say it's good to see you too, Bass, but the trouble is-" Miles smiled that smile, the one that had the odd effect of sending men to an early grave, "-I really want to rip your throat out." His smile widened, making his teeth glow bright in the darkened tent.

"You wouldn't… Why- why would you say that, Miles?" Bass's eyes were wide, his expression one of shock and disbelief. Miles wouldn't say that. Even at their worst, Miles hadn't been able to kill him. Even after everything, they were still brothers.

Miles simply shook his head like he couldn't help but feel sorry for Monroe for not understanding something so obvious.

"Yeah, Bass, why the Hell would I want to kill you?" Voice dripping with sarcasm, Miles continued, driving the existing pain even deeper into Monroe's chest. "Oh, I don't know, maybe for killing my brother." Miles took a step toward him, his twin swords flashing dangerously from his belt. "My real one Bass – not like the kind you claimed to be." Pain like a grenade blew though Bass, making his bones rattle and his heart bleed red. Miles' face twisted into a grimace. "Or maybe for what you did to Rachel." He choked out a shallow laugh. "God, knows I want to kill you for that."

Unable to stand against the sudden weight that seemed to be pressing down on him from all sides, Bass sank to his knees, chest heaving with the simple task of remaining upright – he had to. He had to face this. He owed Miles that much.

"You really can't imagine why I'd want to kill you?" Miles seemed equally surprised and furious. "Could it be for Nora, Bass? For Danny?" Miles paused, seeming to forcibly restrain himself before continuing.

"For Charlie?" His voice was quiet, but Bass felt the two words like a double-tap to the heart. Suddenly, he found that he couldn't breathe anymore.

He watched his best friend stalk forward, his movements as familiar to Bass as his own.

"Did you know," Miles continued, his eyes glinting hard, "for the longest time, I would wake up in the middle of the night, with a gun in my hand. And do you know the first thing that came into my head? I would think 'Thank God, it was all just a dream. I didn't throw away my chance to kill Bass, and save my family.' And then I'd get up out of bed and go looking for you." Bass forced himself to meet his friend's eyes. "To kill you, Bass." Miles shook his head, and his eyes narrowed. "But then I would realize that I wasn't in Philly. That I'd missed my opportunity. You'd been right there in front of me, and for some damn reason I couldn't pull the trigger!"

In an instant, Miles had drawn his swords and crossed them at Monroe's throat, ready to slice open his neck at any time.

"I've forgiven so much, Bass. I let so much of the crap you've done go. I did that because I thought we could be a family again. Me, and Charlie, and Rachel. But then you-" The swords closed even tighter around Monroe's throat. He couldn't even take a breath any longer without risking decapitation. "

"You took my little girl away from me, you sick bastard." The swords trembled beneath Bass's chin. If he hadn't been watching Miles so closely – waiting for him to finally follow through on all the years of empty threats – he might have missed it. But he didn't. Two crystal tears leaking from the corner of Mile's eye, sliding down until they dangled off his jaw. Bass watched them for a moment, transfixed.

Miles hadn't cried in years.

"And now," Miles' voice was strangely shallow, like he couldn't take a real breath anymore, "you can't even keep your promise."

Bass's eyes snapped back to Miles', his throat constricting despite all the things he wished he could say in his defense. He knew what Miles was going to say next. But knowing wasn't the same as hearing.

"You promised you'd do whatever it took to keep her safe Bass." Miles' normally steady voice caught. His thunder-grey eyebrows drew together sharply, eyes never leaving Bass. "You promised me that!"

"Miles-" The swords bit sharply into his neck, making him gasp in pain. Through the tears, he looked up at his friend in a silent plea. After a long moment, the blades relaxed an inch, and Bass could breath again.

Miles' lip curled in disgust.

"What could you possibly say to me, Bass?" Miles' face scrunched into a pained sneer. "My niece is out there, somewhere-" Miles pulled one sword back, pointing it toward the tent's opening, fatherly outrage in his eyes. "Alone. Running from you."

But Bass was already shaking his violently back and forth.

"She's not-"

"The Hell she's not, Bass!" Miles' voice was an unearthly shout, filled with fatherly dismay. "Damn it, Bass! You told - promised her - you'd never become the old you again, Bass." He sneered down at his oldest friend. " And here you are." Shaking his head, Miles sighed as his shoulders slumped in defeat, the fight visibly draining out of him. "Who the Hell can she trust if she can't trust you?"

"She can trust me," Bass shouted over him, his fists clenching and unclenching in rhythm with his throbbing temples. "She can! Everything I've done was to protect her, Miles!" His palms were slick with sweat. Every single action he'd taken in the last twelve months flew before his eyes like a flock of wild birds, impossible to keep track of them all. Groaning, he sank back on is heels, gripping his head with one hand and shielding his eyes with another. The pounding inside his skull was becoming nearly unbearable.

"I… promise," he panted, his forehead dripping sweat. "I did… everything for… her." He squinted against the raw light that had suddenly just appeared inside his tent.

"Everything, Miles! I had to keep her safe, don't you understand? I had to do it!" Bass's voice broke off in a sob, his heart breaking. "You have to believe me, Miles. I just… I couldn't lose her too."

As he sat there, crying for the first time since… since Emma's death, he slowly began to realize how much light had filled the tent.

When did that… The light got brighter, brighter until he couldn't see anything but white. A droning, buzzing noise seemed to stick to the base of his skull, pounding it's way through his head and echoing back on itself, slowly building until it was all he heard. Until he couldn't even hear himself screaming.

And then it all stopped.

The light, the noise - suddenly it was all just… gone.

When Bass finally reopened his eyes, he flinched away from the total darkness. But as the minutes passed in silence, and his surroundings slowly become visible as his eyes readjusted, Bass realized that he was the only one in the tent. Miles had disappeared. The body on the floor was gone, and Alex was nowhere in sight. Letting out a short sigh of relief, Bass slumped to the floor, completely exhausted.

Closing his eyes, he reveled in the silence. He hadn't enjoyed the simple pleasure of a quiet moment in what seemed like a lifetime. There was always some order to give, some duty to perform. Some guilty piece of his conscience to ignore.

But now there was nothing. And Bass could even remember that this was what he'd once called peace.

"Bass."

Monroe's eyes flew open.

He knew that voice, knew it anywhere.

Making sure to move slowly, so that there was no chance of frightening her, Bass sat up and turned towards the voice, his heart very near to tearing itself from his chest.

"Charlie."