November 10th, 2022
"It took me six months, but I've found the men responsible for the attack. They tried to hide but we rooted them out like the cancer they are." Bass's hands were tucked behind his back as he paced, his eyes glittering with some mad delight.
He waved to the hooded figures and smiled darkly, "These people provided material support to our enemies, fostered hate and rebellion within the Republic, nearly killed myself and the Ambassador, and murdered our son."
His gaze flickered to mine and I saw fathomless pain in the depths of his sea green eyes. My stomach was bitter, watching the spectacle before us. Miles stood straight next to me, hands behind his back, eyes forward, the General persona hiding any emotion he might be feeling.
"For these crimes, they are sentenced to death." Bass turned and nodded to the militia members standing at the ready, guns clutched at their sides. The men lifted their rifles and pointed them at the dozen men, women and children.
"Fire!" Bass shouted, watching eagerly as the militia fired, the report of the guns making me flinch.
My hand darted out to wrap around Miles's, clenching as they continued to fire until the bodies hung limply from the posts. My stomach trembled, bile rising in my throat until I was forced to turn and hurry away, running through the halls to my room until I was safe, the door slamming shut behind me.
Retching into the pot in the bathroom I wept bitterly, fear and anger making me shake. Curling on the cold tile of the floor I sobbed, arms wrapped around my chest as I tried to hold myself together.
The hole that had been in my chest since the death of William was raw around the edges, throbbing angrily, my insides felt like they were being chewed up. I shuddered and gasped, tears rolling down my face as I pressed my forehead into the tile, a low moan scraping against my throat.
I don't know how much time passed till I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, strong and hard. I was pulled into an embrace, my face falling against a firm chest and a large hand stroked my hair, hushing me softly.
"Shh Becca, I'm here."
At the sound of Miles's voice I gasped and looked up at him through my tears, fingers winding around the lapels of his jacket. "M-miles…he-he's a m-monster," I gasped, shuddering and crying.
Miles sighed and shook his head, "He's hurting Becca, just like you. You both lost William, he needs you now," he whispered. "He's just trying to fix that hurt," he told me.
"By murdering two whole families?" I snarled, hiccoughing as I struggled to breathe, "Their children?!" I shouted, shoving him away as I rose to my feet. He followed me, reaching out a hand to comfort but I spun away, eluding him.
"How does grief translate into murdering children?" I shouted, running a hand through my hair as I glared up at my friend.
Miles frowned and shook his head, "He had the perpetrators of your son's murder put to death, don't you care about that?" he demanded.
"Of course I care! I care that I didn't get to tell them exactly what they took from me. I care that they were put to death without any real trial! I care that their children were put to death to keep them from avenging their parents in the future."
I slapped a hand against Miles's chest and glared, "That's the kind of shit dictators do when they commit genocide," I snarled.
Miles huffed heavily, "I know Becca, I know," he murmured, "But he's just as broken as you are right now. He needs us both," he told me.
Shoving him away I shook my head and wiped angrily at the tears on my face. "Get out Miles."
"Becca…"
"GET OUT!" I screamed, whirling to punch him, growling when he evaded my fist, my other hand whirling up to slap his face, nails raking into his skin. "Get out! Get out!" I shrieked, pushing and shoving until he was stumbling out the door, slamming it shut in his startled face.
Turning the lock, I slumped to the ground and broke out into fresh sobs, burying my face in my arms. I wept until I was exhausted, curling on the floor and cried myself to sleep.
December 12th 2022
"We've received word from Texas they would like to open up negotiations for a treaty. I know tensions have been high with them, but this is an opportunity for us to form a powerful alliance. If we open up trade we can get fruit and beef, guns and ammunition, all things we've needed."
I leaned forward and looked at the faces of the men on the council, watching as they either nodded or shook their heads. I had about a 50% support from what I could see, but if Bass decided to veto my plan, well, I'd be screwed.
"What does Texas want in return?" Bass asked, leaning forward to stare at me.
I avoided his gaze and peered around the table once more, "They are looking to receive medical aid. We have doctors and medicine they need, and they are willing to be very generous in trade."
"And what would the Republic do without these doctors and this medicine? Should we let our own people suffer and die to help our enemies?" Bass asked sharply, slapping a hand against the table and I flinched, turning my jaw to glare at him.
"Of course not, but we have the manpower to have our doctors go there for a year and train their staff. They can show them how we make medicine and aid them until they are better equipped to handle the outbreaks of malaria and swine flu they've been experiencing. The benefits far outweigh the risk," I explained through gritted teeth, struggling not to snap at him.
"I agree with the Ambassador," Jeremy murmured, flashing me a tiny smile before looking around the table. "We've still got Georgia as an enemy to the south, and the Plains Nations have been knocking at our door for years. With Texas as an ally instead of an enemy we'd have supplies we need and we'd be safer."
As more members of the council expressed their agreement, Bass's face grew stormy. "And who would lead this diplomatic expedition?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
I lifted a brow at him, "Me, of course."
"Of course. Because no one but you can act as an ambassador for the Republic," he snapped.
"Not at all. But our best ambassadors are spread through Canada, working on getting a treaty formed with the nations that have formed there. If you want this done right, you need me," I told him sharply, a grim smile on my face.
His face went blank but I could see the rage in his eyes, in the way he held himself so still he looked like a statue. Our gazes were locked, the tension growing until he growled low in his throat and shook his head, "You're not going," he snapped, expression daring me to argue.
Heat bubbled under my skin at his tone.
"You want another war we can't afford? You want more militia to die? More children?" I snapped, ignoring the low murmur that went around the table. Bass rose half out of his chair and slammed a hand into the table, glaring at me.
"Enough!" he shouted, "Enough! You aren't going, and that's final!" he growled.
Leaping to my feet I leaned toward him, glaring darkly. "Screw. You." I snarled. Whirling away, I strode angrily from the room, heart thrumming so hard it made my head pound. I slammed my bedroom door shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
Slamming a hand against the door I wiped angrily at my tears before going and pulling out my canvas travel bag, shoving in winter clothes and lighter summer linens. Travelling to Texas would take nearly a month, if we pushed the horses.
When my bag was nearly full a rap at the door had me pausing before shaking my head and resuming packing.
"Becca?"
Miles's voice filtered through the wood, concern tingeing his voice. He rapped again, "Becca, let me in," he called.
Zipping the bag shut I grabbed my gun and went to the door, throwing it open to glare at Miles. He stared down at me, eyes lingering on the gun in my hand before he sighed and gave me a tired look.
"You gonna use that on me, huh Becca?" he asked softly.
Scowling up at him I scoffed, "No Miles, but I'm leaving and anyone who gets in my way will regret it." I shook my head at him, turning away to grab my bag off the bed, pulling my heavy jacket off the hook by the door.
Miles had followed me into the room and now he reached out, grabbing onto my bag, pulling to stop me. "Becca, don't, please, don't go," he murmured, hurt inundating his voice, his brow furrowed.
My chest ached at the sorrow in his eyes and I glanced aside, shaking my head. "I can't stay Miles. I can't. He's not my husband anymore, he's gone."
"If you leave that'll be true. He won't ever be himself again if you leave Becca, you'll break what's left of his heart," he whispered, voice choking.
Tears welled in my eyes and I struggled against them, pain breaking my heart open and scraping out my insides. With a shuddering breath I shook my head and pulled my bag from his grip.
"I can't Miles."
I hoisted the bag onto my shoulder and fled down the hall to Natasha's room, pounding a fist against the door until she opened it, looking unsurprised to see me. Behind her I spotted a half packed bag and an array of weapons.
She glanced over me and then nodded, "Give me five minutes," she murmured.
Relief spread through me and I nodded sharply, "I'll go gather the doctors and medicine. You get twenty more to ride with us. We leave in thirty minutes," I ordered.
She nodded and we parted, her to resume packing, me to gather our medical team. Thirty minutes later there were thirty of us, saddled and riding out of the city, five extra horses carrying medical supplies and food for the journey.
Leaving in the dead of winter made the trip far more dangerous, but I wasn't going to wait another hour. I didn't want to give Bass time to shut the city down and prevent me from leaving.
Glancing back over my shoulder I frowned at the city as it disappeared from sight. We had days until we were out of the Republic, days in which Bass could send men after us, after me.
Straightening in the saddle I urged Beda faster and didn't look back again.
"What do you mean she's gone?" Bass shouted, eyes flashing.
"She took twenty of her personal guard and fled the city with ten nurses and doctors, along with medical supplies and enough food to get them to Austin."
I watched as Bass paced, shaking his head like an angry bull, his hair in disarray from running his hands through it so many times.
"Send the militia after her. Bring her back," he ordered, growling out the words.
Sighing heavily I shook my head, "Bass, you know that's a bad idea. Tell the council you ordered her to go and avoid a mess." Stepping forward I grabbed him, shaking him until he looked up at me, eyes wide, glistening with unshed tears and anger.
"Bass, she's not just your Ambassador, she's your wife. She had her heart broken and she needs space. You both do. If you force her back here she'll pull even further away. You have to let her go for now," I murmured.
I watched as he seemed to crumple, his face falling as he choked, clutching my shoulder as he turned away, a broken sob coming from his chest.
His voice was broken when he spoke again, "I-I've lost them…I got…I got nothin left," he stuttered out, sobbing.
My throat burned with unshed tears and I grabbed him, pulling him into a tight embrace as he shuddered and wept. Tears rolled down my own cheeks as Bass howled in agony, his hands clutching desperately at my back.
"Nothin…nothing," he sobbed.
Choking on my breath I cleared my throat, "You've got me Bass," I murmured. "I won't leave."
He stilled and pulled back, wiping furiously at his face tears still falling as he nodded, "You're my brother Miles, I know you won't," he whispered.
I sighed heavily and nodded, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder tightly.
"Never," I murmured.
January 22nd 2023
Men in Stetsons surrounded us, aiming rifles at our heads as we slowed our horses. Leaning forward I waved a hand in greeting, "I'm Ambassador Rebecca Flynn of the Monroe Republic. Your President extended us an invitation to form a treaty. I'm here to supply medical aid and work on said treaty."
The men regarded us for a moment before nodding and waving us forward, leading us into the city. It had taken just over a month to get to Austin, and once again I was in sweltering heat, heat that reminded me of Atlanta.
A shiver passed over my skin at the thought and I pushed aside my nausea, swallowing hard as we approached the Capitol Building. At the foot of the Capitol a handsome man stood waiting, smiling warmly at us.
As I slid from my saddle he removed his hat and stepped forward, extending a hand. "Ambassador Flynn, we've heard so much about you. I didn't think you were coming after our last letters with your government," he murmured.
I shook his hand and smiled softly, "There was some back and forth about our position, but eventually the President saw that the alliance would be beneficial to us both." I hesitated for a moment and then smiled wryly, "I'm sorry, I don't think I know your name, unless it was told to me recently in which case, I'm not even sure of my name after being on the road for a month," I joked.
The man laughed and shook his head, "Not to worry Ambassador, I failed to introduce myself. I am Ambassador Miguel Herrera," he murmured, extending his hand once again with a warm smile.
"Nice to meet you Ambassador Herrera," I replied softly, "Do you think we could get some rest and food before we begin negotiations?" I asked cautiously.
Miguel grinned, "Of course! You have been on the road for weeks. We will have baths drawn up for you and your fighters, if you'd like, we're having dinner this evening to celebrate your arrival. If you are too tired to join us, we would of course understand and hold no grudge against you for it."
Sighing softly I nodded, "We would appreciate baths and time to recuperate. We will be happy to join you for dinner, it is much appreciated," I told him with a tired smile.
Miguel laughed and reached out, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, "Excellent! Please, let me show you to your quarters, our stable hands will take care of your horses."
Grinning at Miguel's enthusiastic kindness I slung my canvas bag off Beda and followed, glancing back to make sure Natasha was behind me. She nodded sharply, gathering her bags and the remainder of mine, uttering short directions to the rest of our guard before following after us.
Miguel talked as we walked, pointing out landmarks in the distance, chattering about the history of the building, how Austin had survived the blackout, every topic under the sun it seemed until we were lead to a thick oak door.
Miguel pulled a key out of his pocket and handed it to me, his expression solemn now. "This is the only key to your quarters. No one here has another, it's private and safe. If you need anything, you need only ask and we will do our best to accommodate. Your personal guard has a small room off yours, and your guardswomen have quarters all in this hall. Is this satisfactory to you?" he asked.
Smiling softly I nodded, "Thank you Miguel, this is more than satisfactory. I appreciate all you've done to make us comfortable."
"Think nothing of it. I'll have water heated and sent to your rooms for baths; dinner will be at 7pm. If you need anything before then, my quarters are three halls away. Take a left up ahead, then a right, and then a left. It's the third door on the right," he informed me, rocking on his heels before nodding and walking away, leaving Natasha and I to stare after him.
Pushing the door open I glanced around, smiling softly at the warmth and luxury within the room.
"Nice digs," Natasha commented from behind me, grinning as she went to the door on the far side of the living area, pushing it open to find a small bedroom.
Walking across the living area to the other door, I opened it and smiled at the small bedroom. It had a bed with a soft looking mattress, a mattress that called to me after a month on the road. Tossing my bag on the floor I began to strip until I was down to my tank top and underwear, laying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.
Bare feet on hard wood whispered and then the mattress sank beside me as Natasha lay back, staring up at the ceiling too.
"You know I wouldn't presume to tell you what to do," she murmured.
Smirking, I turned my head to lift a brow at her, "That's literally the definition of your job. To tell me what to do so I don't die," I told her. She snorted and ducked her chin in a nod of agreement before continuing.
"Right, well, still, I wouldn't tell you how to run the Republic. But did you think maybe, that running away from your husband might make things worse?" she murmured.
I inhaled sharply and turned my head away, brow furrowing as I struggled not to cry. My voice cracked as I spoke, "Of course I considered that Nat, I also considered that if I stayed I might end up hurting us both. I love Bass, but I'm so broken right now that being around him, feeling all this anger and sorrow and, and, hurt…it just kills me," I whispered.
Tears leaked out slowly and I muffled my weeping with a hand over my mouth. A gentle hand wrapped around my free hand, squeezing it tightly as I cried.
"I'm sorry Becca," Nat whispered.
We lay in silence for a few minutes until she spoke again.
"I don't know if you remember, but I had a kid. Older than William, about ten when the power went. He was kind and funny and sweet, and he loved to play with puzzles and create things. It was his ideas that saved us more than once, kept us from drinking contaminated water or food that wasn't good."
She sighed and laughed softly, "My Marcus, he knew so much more than me about science and all that, if he had lived he probably would have been sent ahead to high school."
Her voice grew sad, "But his little tricks and ideas couldn't save him from the men who attacked our encampment. He was too little, but he fought back anyway, trying to protect me." She struggled for a moment before continuing.
"The men killed him and then raped me. They took everything I had and left me for dead. I almost did die," she admitted, voice bitter. "But eventually I got stronger and started training, fighting, making myself stronger. I had let my guard down and had paid the price. After that I vowed never to do so again."
She stopped speaking for a few minutes and then sighed, "So maybe I can understand why President Monroe chose to act as he did with the families of those who killed your boy. If I had the chance…" she trailed off and I could hear the unsaid thought.
She would do exactly the same.
It perturbed me to hear such a brutal admission from Nat, even with her being my head of security and fully capable of killing someone with her bare hands.
To hear that she agreed with Bass's decision, threw my whole world out of whack.
A knock at the door sent us both to our feet, Natasha brandishing a knife, my gun gripped tightly as we stepped out to the main door. Natasha nodded at me and went to the door, keeping the knife tucked behind her back as she answered it.
A group of men and women stood outside, holding large steaming buckets of water. "For your baths, ma'am," one of the woman murmured.
Natasha studied them for a moment and then ushered them into the room, watching as they went to each of our bathrooms and filled the tubs. When they had departed we shared a grin and quickly turned to our own bathrooms.
I stripped off my remaining clothing and slid into the water, scrubbing with the soap and shampoo provided until the water was grey and I was toweling off happily. My skin smelled like cranberries and citrus, a festive scent that made me crave thanksgiving turkey.
With a wry laugh I wrapped a towel around myself and went to my bags, dumping the clothes onto the bed as I searched for the appropriate outfit for the party tonight. After some debate I pulled out a summery cotton dress that hung to the knees, stretchy lace bike shorts for underneath, and my boots.
It wouldn't be the most fashionable outfit, but I would be able to wear my thigh holsters and run if necessary, though it was never something I hoped for. Brushing out my wet hair, I braided it and dressed, reclining on my bed with a packet of papers I had brought with me to review.
The details of the treaty wouldn't be hammered out until later, but I was sure that we would begin discussing them tonight. Sighing softly I turned my attention to my work and tried to keep my mind off my husband and dead son.
People laughed and chattered happily, winding in and out of the Spanish oaks, enjoying the bbq pig and cow, the smells of the homemade food filling the air until my stomach rumbled loudly.
"I believe your stomach is letting us know it's time to eat," Miguel teased. I flushed and followed him to the line of people filling their plates, taking all of what was offered, surprise rippling through me when a cold beer was offered.
Miguel led me to a small table under one of the oaks, waving a hand for me to sit before he joined me. Natasha sat nearby, keeping a close, watchful eye.
"It's been years since I've seen a beer that wasn't skunked or warm," I told him before taking a sip, the cold carbonation tickling my throat as the flavor of the hops washed over my tongue. My eyes slid shut and I groaned softly, "Good lord Miguel, this is incredible," I murmured happily.
He laughed and I opened my eyes to find him regarding me fondly, "It's been a long time since I've had the occasion to see someone enjoy something so simple, I am glad we could share a drink," he murmured, lifting his beer for a toast.
I tapped my glass bottle against his and sighed happily as I took another sip, reveling in the taste. As I ate we talked, discussing the crops, livestock and economies of our respective nations without delving into deeper topics.
Each time I turned the conversation in that direction, Miguel gently moved us away and to other topics. After the fourth time I frowned softly at him, "Don't you want to begin negotiations or at least discuss what we'll be talking about?" I asked, confused.
He grinned softly and shook his head, "No Madame Ambassador, I don't. I wish for you to enjoy our hospitality and rest tonight. Tomorrow we can begin if you still wish. I have no desire to rush the process or force you to work after such an arduous journey."
I stared at him in confusion, and it must have been an amusing expression because he laughed, shaking his head before he rose and waved a hand, "Here, come, follow me," he ordered gently.
Hesitantly I followed him, stiffening as we approached the disparate grove of trees where lanterns were strung in the branches shedding light on the groups of people dancing merrily. Miguel paused when he notice my hesitation, grinning at me.
"Don't tell me you're going to refuse," he teased.
I glared at him, "I don't know how to square dance, we don't do that where I'm from," I snapped, rolling my shoulders uncomfortably. Eyes were landing on us and I was growing anxious, I didn't want to cause a scene, but I really didn't want to have to do this.
Miguel grinned softly, "How do you dance in the Republic?" he ribbed.
Snorting I shook my head, "We don't much, but when we do it's mostly waltzing and slow dancing. None of this," I muttered, waving a hand towards the people swirling around nonsensically.
Miguel laughed and scrubbed a hand over his mouth, "Alright, well, what if I promise to show you how? We'll go on a slower song," he promised.
I frowned and watched the people for a minute before nodding reluctantly, "Yea, ok," I acquiesced. He nodded in satisfaction and after a minute left my side to approach the band, murmuring to the band leader, their easy grins making me nervous.
"Dancing as negotiation?"
I huffed a breath and glanced over at Nat, grinning humorlessly. "I guess so. Though he seems more intent on welcoming me and making sure we're all relaxed than in negotiating any treaty."
Nat nodded and watched the people dance as Miguel worked his way back to us, talking and laughing with folks as he went.
"Maybe he likes you," she murmured as he approached and I looked over at her sharply before turning a slightly softer look on Miguel.
He smiled softly and sidled up between us, glancing over at Natasha with a warm grin, "Ma'am," he murmured with a nod of his head. "You know, we've got a couple real tall strapping boys around here that are interested in dancing with a beautiful woman like yourself," he told her.
I bit back a laugh, imagining Natasha biting the heads off the men like a female praying mantis. Her eyes darted to me and I saw dark humor in her gaze before she smiled faintly at Miguel, "If they wish to dance with me, they had better have the balls to come ask me themselves," she murmured.
Miguel grinned and then laughed sharply, nodding, "I like you very much ma'am," he confided and a moment later was swinging towards me, holding out a hand, "Shall we?" he asked, lifting a brow.
Choking on a protest I swallowed hard, eyes darting to the dancers as the music slowed. Christ I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to look like a damned fool, and that was the thing that made me the most nervous about this situation.
With a heavy sigh I slipped my hand into his and rolled my eyes when he laughed with glee, pulling me out into the crowd of people. They parted around us and while there were some side long looks and some murmured comments, most people resumed dancing without real incident.
Miguel pulled me beside him and pointed to his feet, "Okay, follow my direction, shuffle left, tap your heel forward twice, shuffle right, tap your heel forward twice, hands on your hips and turn," he instructed.
When I inevitably went the wrong way he laughed and guided me gently around, nudging my hip with his, "There you go, you're getting it!" he encouraged.
I grinned despite my flush of embarrassment and shook my head, "You're far too enthusiastic. But thank you," I murmured gratefully.
The music changed and slowed and in a breath Miguel's hand was around mine and pulling me into his arms. I stiffened and tried to pull away, "What're you—"
"Just relax Rebecca, I have no untoward intentions, I promise you," he murmured, leaning back to give me a solemn nod.
After a moment I sighed and loosened my grip on his hand, shoulders drooping as he began leading us through the steps of a slow waltz. Slowly I began to relax as Miguel chattered, my brain only half tuning in to what he was saying.
"Can you confirm something I have heard rumored?" Miguel asked softly and I hummed noncommittally, still lost in thought.
"You are married to President Monroe, is that correct?"
At this my eyes flashed to his, wide with shock. It wasn't unknown information, but most people chose not to acknowledge the situation.
"Where did you hear something like that?" I murmured, casting my gaze over his shoulder, avoiding his eyes.
"Spies, of course," he replied just as quietly, and I could see his brow lift out of the corner of my eye.
"Hmmm, well, what you've heard isn't strictly true. We were never married. We never had the time before our son was born and after…" I trailed off, throat closing up at the swell of memories that washed over me.
"Your son?" Miguel murmured softly, "I hadn't heard you had children," he admitted.
Swallowing hard I shook my head, blinking rapidly at the tears forming, looking away from him until I was able to speak. "My son William was two years old when he was murdered by rebels. It was his birthday and they bombed the restaurant. They killed fifteen other people and injured 37."
We had stopped dancing and Miguel was looking at me with such sorrow in his eyes that I tore my hand out of his and walked away, stomach curling with bile. I began running, heart pounding as I raced for my room, a cold sweat on my skin.
Slamming the door behind me I collapsed onto the couch in the living area, chest throbbing with the intensity of my grief, dry sobs wracking my body.
There was a knock at the door and then Miguel called out softly, "Rebecca?"
I inhaled sharply and pounded my palm into the fabric of the couch, muffling my pained cry with a pillow. The grief was so sharp it left me breathless. Struggling against it I took three long breaths and then rose weakly to my feet, stumbling to the door, dry eyed, but bleary.
When I flung open the door Miguel regarded me sadly and then shook his head faintly, "May I come in?" he asked.
Stepping aside I waved a hand, "It's your property anyway," I muttered, voice rough. He gave me a sad, reproachful look before stepping in and standing awkwardly beside the couch.
He waited until I sat and then joined me, hands twisting in his lap as he stared down at them. I didn't have anything to say to him, the grief and pain in my chest too intense for anything other than harsh angry words.
"I lost my wife and daughter two years ago. We had an outbreak of measles and it swept through the city, taking young and old alike. By the time it was over we had lost over 1200 people." He cleared his throat and shook his head, "It is not the same as your loss, but please, know that I understand what it is to lose a child. It is a pain that opens an abyss within your soul, a hole that can never be filled. You have lost something profound Rebecca, and I am sorry to have asked so lightly about it."
As he spoke the tears finally came and I turned away, hiding my face as I wept.
A firm hand closed around mine; squeezing it gently as I cried and in turn I clutched it desperately, weeping as the abyss within me opened.
AN: Yay update! I have a bunch of handwritten notes on how I want this story to go, I just don't have all the time to get it written, so I had to take a short hiatus on other stories to catch up. I think that this chapter gives us a better look into why Bass spirals more, and why Miles eventually betrays him. I hope you enjoy the chapter, please review!