A/N: Look! A new chapter! And I've still got 12 days before the show comes back! I'm so going to make it. (Shhh, Miles, no one cares what you think.)
Favorites, follows and reviews, oh my! I'm so so so glad you're all still enjoying this. I think especially since it was MEANT to be a one/two shot, I've been really nervous that it's less interesting now that the initial premise is old news. So thanks for sticking around!
A little domestic!Aaron and scheming!everyone for your reading enjoyment. I'm starting to get really excited about how this is going finish up.
"God, no, absolutely not!"
"Charlie, no way. That's not what I meant."
Miles and Jason fought to be heard over each other's objections, and their unified front made Charlie want to punch something. Or someone.
She looked to Nora and Aaron for support, but Aaron was staring off at the sky, white-faced. Nora shook her head and said, "You're on your own, kid."
They'd walked for the last several hours, at high speeds, trying to make up time. Miles and Jason both estimated they were maybe two miles from the old power plant that had been converted to a research facility in Willow Grove. Neither man was sure why prisoners would be held there, but they'd settled on Monroe trying to trap them at the main base.
Jason's stolen bag was at his feet, the contents spilled onto the ground in the forest grove they'd stopped in for cover. He'd laid out his plan: He would bring Miles in as a captive and then Nora and Charlie and Aaron would create a diversion with an explosion, giving Miles and Aaron time to grab Danny and get out.
"There are two uniforms," she insisted. "And I have the militia brand. Why not let me use it?"
"It's too dangerous," Miles growled. "You're not trained for this."
"I'm sorry, what exactly have I been training for these last few months when I walked from Chicago to Pennsylvania, got thrown off a train," Charlie saw Jason wince at that, "and infiltrated the most fortified city in the Monroe Republic?"
"But Charlie, in close combat-" Jason began, taking a step toward her, his hands out in a conciliatory gesture.
"You think I'll be a liability, don't you?" she snapped at Miles, tears starting in her eyes. "After all that we've been through, the number of times that I've-"
"Stop it, Charlie," her uncle said tiredly. "You want to count? We can count the number of times your crazy ideas got you captured, or one of us injured, or gave away our position…"
"Miles, that's not really fair," Nora broke in, her voice slow and reluctant. "We've all made mistakes. And she had the steepest learning curve."
"So you think she should play soldier?" Miles asked coldly.
"Danny won't know either of you! He'll only know Na-Jason," Charlie still stumbled not to think of him as Nate Walker, and in her emotional state she forgot to check herself, "because he was part of his father's company, the men that captured him. And you haven't seen him since he was a kid, Miles."
There was a moment of silence as the other four processed this.
"The only people in this group that he knows are Aaron and me," she said stubbornly. "And Aaron isn't branded."
Miles threw up his hands, looking to Nora and Aaron for better arguments. Jason looked disapproving, but Charlie was pretty sure he could be convinced.
"Miles," she pleaded, walking over and looking into his hard eyes. "He's my little brother. I need to be there."
He rubbed his hands over his face before pushing them up into his hair in exasperation.
"Dammit, Charlie," he said, "you will follow every single order we give you. No sudden changes in plan, no ideas, no exploring." Charlie felt like his eyes, no longer hard, were pleading with her. "We're in and out as cleanly as possible."
"Deal," she said solemnly. She stuck out her hand, and her uncle took it in his own. He shook it once, and then rolled his eyes and pulled her in for brief hug.
"You remember our agreement," he said sternly, and she nodded reassurance before realizing he was looking away from her, at Jason. Twisting her head, she saw Jason take a deep breath before answering.
"I do, sir."
"Then you'd better do your best to make her a soldier, Junior." He stalked off, leaving Jason and Charlie alone next to the bag of supplies.
Jason tried to steady his shaky emotions as Matheson stormed away. They'd been covering ground at breakneck speed, working out the details of the plan on the go. Nora's stash, luckily, had been intact, but that had meant strapping several pounds of explosives to their backs and hoping they didn't get stopped or searched as they moved in broad daylight. They'd long since lost the cover of darkness, and as the sun had risen, Charlie had gotten more and more vocal about her involvement.
It wasn't that he didn't believe in her, but Miles was right. No matter what she'd seen – and he still needed to hear the rest of that story about the opium grower – this was different. He and Matheson and Nora, they'd signed up for this life, one way or another. But Charlie and Aaron both had a certain innocence that no one in the group really wanted to endanger.
"One of these uniforms is going to look all wrong," Charlie said, pulling him from his thoughts as she bent down to shake out one of the shirts with SMITH across the chest. "Either too big for me or too small for you."
Right, because the thing that would give her away was her uniform being the wrong size, he thought with a wry smile. Not the wide-open eyes, the inability to take orders, the hesitation to inflict violence. But he couldn't do much about those now.
"If we're lucky," he said, clearing his throat past the lump that was in his way, "he's one who doesn't have the money to have things repaired and…" Jason knelt next to her and felt around the lining of the militia-issued bag until his fingers felt a small lump. "There we go."
He ripped away the loose fabric and pulled out what fell into his hand. It was two metal needles, three or four small wooden spools of thread, and the real prize, a tiny pair of metal scissors.
"Are those…" Charlie trailed off, her surprise evident.
"Scissors and some needles, yeah. Contraband." He rolled the valuable metal around in his palm. "Completely illegal, but repairing other soldiers' uniforms can be a lucrative side job if the recruit is good enough at it."
"I haven't seen a working pair of scissors in years," she said softly, reaching out to take them off his hand. Her fingers brushed his skin and he blinked at the rush of heat that went through him, mildly embarrassed when he saw that she was entranced with opening and closing the tool over unresisting blades of grass.
"How's your sewing?" he asked hopefully. He was serviceable with needle and thread, but his work wouldn't stand up under close inspection.
"It's pretty lousy, honestly," she admitted. "I was always better at, uh, outdoor tasks."
Jason sighed, although he wasn't surprised. "Well, I'll give it a shot. If you're going to come we'll have to tailor one of these down quickly."
He held the shirt Charlie had been examining up to her small frame, seeing that it was going to be far too long and wide for her slender build. The last time he'd done any needlework was years ago, when his mother had taught him to repair his socks after he'd ripped the third pair in a week. It was a punishment, but she'd made sure he could do it to her satisfaction, and he was relatively sure he could still remember the basics.
"Ok, so I guess it probably needs to be about, uh, that much shorter," he said, pulling out the scissors and preparing gingerly to make a first snip where the garment should end.
"What are you doing? That's going to be way too short – are those scissors?" Aaron wandered over to watch the proceedings, and Jason scowled at the criticism.
"Uniforms are supposed to hang to the hips," he said.
"Yeah, but if you cut it that high, you can't turn the hem, and then it'll be totally obvious that it's a rush job," Aaron countered.
Jason and Charlie stared at him.
"I thought you worked in computers," Charlie said slowly, "you know, before."
"It hurts my soul that saying the word 'ComicCon' will mean nothing to the two of you," Aaron said, "but let me just say, I cosplayed a fair number of Star Wars characters in my day." At their blank looks, he rolled his eyes. "I sewed my own costumes for fan conventions. You're going to do it all wrong."
Jason considered his own experience – socks and small tears – and reluctantly handed the small sewing kit to the larger man. Aaron motioned to Charlie to put the shirt on, and she shrugged out of her jacket, handing it to Jason.
"Costumes, huh?" she said with a smile in her voice. "I hope I don't come out looking like those comic books we found in seventh grade. That woman was not wearing enough clothing."
"Charlie, she's Wonder Woman, she doesn't need clothing when she's got the lasso of truth," Aaron said absently.
Jason had completely lost track of their conversation, but Charlie turned back to share an amused grin before sliding the uniform over his head. The warmth and laughter in her eyes hit him like a rock in the solar plexus, and he was still struggling to catch his breath when her head reemerged from the tent of faded blue fabric and she turned to face Aaron.
He would do just about anything to get her to look at him like that again, Jason admitted to himself with a sad twist in his gut. Hell, he was doing it right now, going into the lion's den to face the worst of the Monroe Republic on the slight chance that they could find and save her brother.
He bent to retrieve the other set of clothing. Smith had been almost his size, luckily, so his shoulders didn't strain the seams of his borrowed uniform too badly. The second pair of pants, he shook out and walked over to where Charlie was talking about… the Amazon? Warriors? She and Aaron were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't notice him lay the clothing on the bench.
"But if she's bulletproof, why wear clothes at all?" Charlie was asking with a laugh.
Jason missed the answer, distracted by the way her eyes sparkled as she shook her head. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss her until she agreed to stay hidden and far away from Monroe, and the militia, and his father. Instead, he was going to walk her right inside. How the hell was he going to keep her safe?
Miles had to admit, Junior was thorough. The kid had checked Charlie over three times – although the last round Miles suspected had been just to do some unnecessary touching – and her uniform looked as spot-on as it could with the mere hour they'd given Aaron to shrink it down to her size. Her shoes were wrong, but that wasn't unusual. They'd left the "Smith" on her chest, giving her an honorary last name.
Young Neville had spent his hour nervously picking out the "Smith" on his own shirt. Miles could tell that bringing Charlie wasn't making Junior happy either. They'd decided that as an actual militia member, Jason might know soldiers and officers on base, so they would be less inclined to question him. That was why he was using the stolen bag to hide Miles' sword. Hopefully he wouldn't be searched.
And of course, Miles thought as they walked the final mile to the facility, most of the assembled onlookers would be distracted by his presence. Ex-General Matheson, returned at last. Yippee-ki-yay, you bastards.
He hadn't said anything to Charlie when the plan was proposed, but there was no way they'd stay together once they brought him in. The moment the militia had him in custody, he knew orders were to put him under heavy guard and have him brought to Monroe. What he didn't know was whether Bass would wait at headquarters for him, or have expected him to make it here, the true target.
Was he about to face down his best friend for a second time?
Miles shook his head, unwilling to dwell on the bittersweet rush of emotions that question raised in him. Better to think about how Nora had kissed him, rather thoroughly, before heading off with Aaron to set up the diversion. In about 45 minutes, she would bring down the east wall of the compound, and hopefully that would give them enough cover to fight their way out with his teenage nephew.
"Miles, what if they hurt you?" Charlie's soft voice cut through his reverie.
"Shh, Charlie, we're too close to talk," the boy whispered. "Act like a soldier."
"He's right," Miles said under his breath. "No matter what, you stay in character. Your job is to get Danny and get out."
Charlie turned her blue eyes onto him, realization crystalizing as they widened. Miles stared back, offering her no further reaction. He'd just given himself away, he knew, but hopefully Junior could keep her on track. If she started trying to weigh saving his life against her brother's, she'd be mired in guilt and unable to decide. Or she'd do something stupid early and miss the chance to save anyone. Junior halted and slid a gag down over Miles' face as planned, and they made the final turn in the path that led to the power plant. Charlie shifted to behind him, her crossbow aimed in his general direction to indicate that he'd been captured.
They had only walked another fifty feet when three men erupted from the forest, guns pointed at them.
"Identify yourselves! Now, soldier!" one of them yelled, addressing Jason Neville. Miles tensed, and adopted a defeated glower as Charlie raised her crossbow and pointed it between his shoulder blades.
"Ease up," Jason said calmly. "Lieutenant Jason Neville, Private Charlotte Smith, bringing in a high-priority prisoner."
"This facility is closed; no transfers, no surprises," a second soldier growled. "You can't come in here." Miles fought the urge to roll his eyes, and then remembered that he didn't have to pretend anything – he was playing himself. So he sent the soldiers his best "are you an idiot" look.
"Oh, you'll let us in," Jason said confidently. "General Monroe won't want to risk Miles Matheson getting free on the march to the next militia base."
His name fell into the clearing like a bomb, and all three men reeled back, training their guns directly on him. He heard a sharp inhale behind him, and said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that Charlie could hold onto her terrible ideas until they had fewer guns pointed at them.
"Matheson?"
"How in the hell?"
Two of them were stuttering over each other, looking pale and anxious. Miles was watching the third man, whose eyes had narrowed as he looked back at Jason and Charlie.
"Would have thought the famous general would put up more of a fight," he said finally, letting his skepticism bleed through his words.
They were ready for this, Miles thought with relief.
"I've got a bruise the size of a dinner plate on the side of my head, and Smith there actually got knocked out and has an egg-shaped bump on her head," Junior bit out. "Sorry if that's not enough for you, but it's enough for me."
The skeptic made to open his mouth again, but Jason continued with a hard edge to his voice. "If you have more questions, how about you ask them inside, where there is a smaller chance that his rebel buddies might find us. If you don't mind, corporal?" Miles allowed himself to be mildly impressed.
"Fine, we'll walk him in-" the disbelieving corporal began.
"No way," Charlie interrupted desperately, and both Miles and Jason turned to look at her in warning.
"She's right," Jason recovered quickly. "We worked hard to bring him in, we're not giving you guys the credit for this one. We walk him in."
"What unit did you say she was with?" the corporal asked, and Miles sincerely wanted to kick his teeth in.
"Inside, corporal," Jason ground out, taking Miles' arm and shoving him forward. The whole group started moving back to the entrance, the guns still trained on his chest.
One of the other soldiers spoke up again as the corporal went forward to the door to explain what was happening to the guard.
"Hey, did you say you were Jason Neville?"
"Why?" Jason asked guardedly.
"Cause Major Neville got in early this morning," the man answered. "Your dad, right? Little family reunion, I guess."
Miles shot a look at Junior, hoping the news that his father was here wouldn't throw him too badly. Tom Neville would make this harder for everyone if his son couldn't convince him that he'd somehow overpowered Miles and known to bring him here. The boy clenched his jaw and looked away for a moment, hiding his reaction. When he faced the group again, his face was set and unreadable.
"Good, please let him know I'm here. This directly concerns him."
Miles swallowed a smile. A direct offensive? If he wasn't careful he'd start liking this kid.
The doors swung open; they were in.
Danny had been sitting in the interrogation room for hours – it was hard to count with no windows or clocks. He'd tried yelling, but the guards outside had ignored him, and since he was tied to a chair, he couldn't do much else. He must have drifted into sleep after trying futilely to free his hands, because the banging of the door opening had him jerking up in his seat.
"Oh, did I interrupt your nap?" The man's voice wasn't one he immediately recognized, and Danny tensed. New people hadn't tended to be gentle since his capture.
"I can come back later if this is a bad time," the man continued, sounding almost amused.
Danny didn't answer, but he couldn't resist looking to see who it was. His eyes widened involuntarily when he saw his mother, held by a guard, standing behind a tall man with shockingly blue eyes and a cruel face. General Monroe.
"You see, Rachel?" Monroe continued, "I told you Neville wouldn't have hurt him. Now can we be done with your little temper tantrum and get that device finished, please? I wouldn't want to have to change my position on young Daniel's wellbeing."
"You didn't see him, Bass," his mother said softly. "That man was insane. I had to be sure."
"General!" a shout came from just outside the open door. Monroe looked annoyed. "Urgent message from the front gate, sir. They're saying they've got Matheson."
Everyone in the room froze. Danny's heart dropped as he pictured Charlie in the hands of the men who had beaten him so often on the trip to Philadelphia. His mother was white as a sheet, and even Monroe looked stunned for a moment. But he recovered quickly.
"Take them both to the cell block," the general ordered his mother's guard. His voice was low and dangerous. "I don't want either one let out until I give the order personally."
The guard reached down to untie Danny, and Monroe looked at his mother.
"Rachel, this may keep me for an hour or two," he said smoothly, making Danny scowl. The asshole talked like he was taking her out to dinner or something. "But we'll get back to work when this is resolved. Understood?"
"Of course, Bass," she said softly. He nodded, satisfied, and strode away. In his place, two other guards entered with guns drawn.
Finally, free, Danny stood and walked over to his mother. She looked inquiringly at the original guard who nodded briskly. Permission granted, she wrapped her arms around Danny's waist, and he followed suit.
"I'm so glad you're ok," she said softly, but loud enough to be heard by all in the room.
"All right, enough, let's get moving," the guard muttered.
She squeezed him one last time, and as she pulled away he felt something heavy fall into his right pants pocket. Danny could barely catch her next words, but he thought she whispered "be ready" when she kissed his forehead.
Then they were moving, ushered back through the suddenly bustling corridors. His heart raced, and he was fighting the urge to check his pocket, to see if the mystery item was still there. He just barely remembered to keep his head up and look for Eve as he was led back to his cell, but it looked like she was asleep on her cot. His mother was locked into a cell about four down from Danny's on the same side.
As the door to his own clanged shut, he assumed his slouched and bored position, pretending to ignore the guard who was newly stationed at his end of the hallway. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared up at the ceiling, biting the inside of his cheeks to contain his reaction when his right hand closed around the cool metal of a key.
He didn't know how his mother had done it, or what the next step in her plan might be. But he knew one thing: if Charlie couldn't save him, he'd just have to save Charlie.
A/N: Heroic!Danny is pretty adorable. He'll totally be back. And Rachel is always badass, so I don't think she needs special designation as such. She's smarter than all of us. Seriously.
Also, can we all just take a minute to pity poor smitten!Jason? Because really, that boy is in trouble.
My lovely reviewers, you always brighten my day. Notes below:
Becc-gallanter: I think the fact that Miles has grown so fond of Charlie is beyond adorable, and really centers the show emotionally. So I'm super glad that their interactions read well to you! I snuck this one in just a week, but I'm going to have to speed up if I want to finish on time….
Kotero: Yeah, Charlie's got a lot on her plate, emotionally, so the whole falling in love thing is fighting with sister guilt and sad-father feelings and "oh did I almost just die again?" worry. But it's insidious, and she won't be able to ignore it forever.
Kiwiflea: Thanks so much! It's nice to know you're still reading. TWELVE DAYS! And then helicopters. Wow, remember the helicopters?
Thalia Bolt: Oooh, I like your screenname! Thank you very much for the kind review, and say hi to Artemis for me.
Cori573: Yeah, Miles DOES NOT LIKE being wrong. Serves him right. For something. Nora will know what.
Sam0728: All my best fanfic experiences read about like that, so I'm super excited to be providing such fun for you. The fandom is young yet, and very strangely fixated on exploring one relationship. So hopefully it'll grow and branch out as the show comes back! (I hope you liked the update!)
Mandaluv: Yeeeeesss, I got a "DUN DUN DUN" review. Cue silly grin. Thank you for the nice compliment! Cue sillier grin.
Sportygirl23: Why thank you very much! I do like some fun plot, and it's hard to be fluffy when Miles is ALWAYS RIGHT THERE. (Cmon, Miles, stop babysitting!)