A/N There are a few brief mentions of suicide here, so just be warned. I skipped Shelly's actual death because in my head it happens exactly the same way it did in the show, so this is just the aftermath.
The cool water flows through his fingers in a rush of red swirls. His bloodied hands are hard to make out in the cloudy water below him. In the distance, Miles and Jeremy are screaming for him, though Bass pretends not to hear. His breathing is slow and deep, like his body is deliberately trying to keep itself under control while his brain tries to comprehend the end of his life.
Not in the literal sense. He is still breathing. He can still feel the thump, thump of his heart in his chest, even though he's sure he no longer needs it. Shelly and the baby are both gone. Dead. Just like his mom and dad. Just like his sisters.
What's life without a family? A life wasted.
That's what he is now. Bass Monroe, a waste of man with nothing left. No one to love, no one to love him back.
"Bass!"
Miles' voice is getting louder, his footsteps coming closer. He's torn between running as far away from here as he can get and just dunking his head in that nice, cool water. Just for a little while, and then they can all be together again.
"Bass!"
And there's Jeremy. He's coming close from the other side and now Bass is trapped. He can't do this, not again.
"Bass!"
The blood is dried on his skin and will require more scrubbing than he has the energy to do. Plus, he's not entirely sure that he wants it to go just yet. It is the only part of them that he has left.
"Bass!"
His heart rate rises and he can feel the organ pumping blood throughout his body as he gets to his feet. He turns to flee but he apparently took too long in deciding whether to run or just end it there, because Miles is suddenly before him.
The other man takes one look at his face, tear stained and covered with dried blood, and shakes his head. "Bass... Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
His body feels numb as Miles pulls his red stained shirt over his head and starts to scrub at the stains on his skin. At some point, Jeremy arrives with a bucket of warm water and some clean clothes. He's stripped down to nothing right there next to the river, though he barely notices. His eyes have found the camp across the river. It's hidden through the trees but their fires are burning brightly in darkness.
His mind drifts back to Shelly as Miles leads him into the river to rinse off. Shelly, bloody and broken. Their baby, who never even got to see the world outside of the womb. Both of them will be burried in the field with all of the others. His wife and unborn child will rest forever amongst the starved and forgotten.
It didn't have to be this way. Maybe if they had had some medicine or some more food she could have been healthier and this wouldn't have happened. It's all his fault. His family needed him to provide for them, and he failed. It's all his fault.
Miles is pulling a pair of worn jeans up over his hips as Jeremy tugs a shirt down over his chest. Bass looks down at his hands and finds that the blood has been washed away, but the memory is still there. He knows right then that he will never be free again. He will spend the rest of his life trying to correct this injustice.
The boys guide him back into camp which passes in a blur. They stop at Jeremy's tent and lead Bass inside.
"Why don't you go watch Charlie and I'll stay with him," Miles tells Jeremy.
"Are you sure?" Jeremy's voice drops even lower. "Maybe we should take turns watching him."
But he can see Miles shaking his head. "No, I've got him. Just go take care of Charlie. Leave her with Julia if you need a break."
Jeremy disappears from view and the world slants as Miles pushes him back onto the cot. "Just sleep, Bass. Everything's going to be OK."
But he can't sleep. He isn't sure if hours pass by or if it's merely a minute, but when he sits up, Bass finds Miles asleep on the ground next to him. He can't stop thinking about the other camp.
Do they have medicine?
How much food do they really have?
How much of it can he take in one trip?
Their field now holds twenty-two bodies. That's twenty-two, too many. The other camp has everything that they need to prevent adding more to that number. The only option is to take it.
He moves silently. Years of training and experience shutting down those emotional parts of his brain that aren't useful and letting a cool calm take over. Jeremy's gun is stashed beneath the cot and he grabs it, checks the clip, and leaves without disturbing his sleeping friend.
The walk through camp is a silent one. The full moon is hanging bright in the sky. If it weren't for the darkness in his heart, it would be a beautiful night.
The patter of light footsteps goes unnoticed until they're right behind him and a small hand is wrapped around his wrist. Charlie is standing in the middle of camp wearing one of Miles' t-shirts as a nightgown and no shoes. Her eyes are wide and confused, her mouth tilted into a frown.
"Where are you going?"
"I have to do something. Go back to bed." The coldness in his voice makes him inwardly cringe, though he turns and trudges on anyway.
Her hand grabs at the back of his shirt quickly and he can hear the anxiety settling into her voice. "What's wrong?" She sounds scared. "Where's Uncle Miles?"
Biting back the anger rising in his chest, he yanks himself out of her grip and walks away again.
"Bass, wait!" And now he can hear the tears in her voice. "What's going on? Why are you mad?" He looks back at her and sees the fat tears streaming down her cheeks.
He says nothing. He can't. Instead, they just stare. Hours pass, or maybe it's just minutes, before Charlie moves closer again. She ignores the gun he's holding in his hand and wraps her arms around his waist, pillowing her head against his stomach.
He can feel the sobs working their way out of him. The way his breathing constricts and his vision blurs with tears. Charlie leans back to look at his face, her eyes full of sorrow that doesn't fit on a seven year olds face.
"Julia said that Shelly had to go away on a trip," Charlie says quietly. "But she didn't go on a trip, did she?"
The gun drops to the ground and the sobs he's been trying so hard to hold in come flowing out like a waterfall. He falls backward and lands flat on his back as his body shakes with every difficult breath. He almost doesn't notice the small hand wrapped in his or the fingers gently combing through his hair, but Charlie's presence is probably the only thing that keeps him from grabbing the gun and ending it all right then and there.
It seems like they lay there for a long time before he realizes how cold he is and thinks about how cold Charlie must be. He sits up with her partially in his lap, her eyes are glued to his own and it's almost like he can hear her question before she asks it out loud again.
"No, Charlie. Shelly didn't go on a trip. She's dead."
To her credit, she doesn't start to cry right away. "What about Bass Junior?"
He can't bring himself to say it again, so he just shakes his head. She seems to understand though since she wraps her arms around his neck in a tight hug, wet tears sliding down his neck. When she finally pulls away from him, there's a moment where he realizes that not only has his entire life just changed - again - but that her little bubble of a world has just been officially popped. He and Miles are now once again her only guides in life.
His eyes flit down to the gun laying next to them and he cringes at the sight of it.
What had he been thinking?
What the hell had he been planning on doing with that?
Bass looks back at Charlie who is scowling at the gun as if it personally offended her. "I don't like it when you and Uncle Miles have to fight," she tells him.
He sighs and brushes some of her wild curls out of her face. "I know. But I'm not gonna fight tonight."
She nods slowly and lays her head on his chest. "Can we go home then?"
Sliding her off of his lap, Bass stands and swings her up into his arms where she latches onto him like a koala. "Yeah, let's go home."
They go back to Jeremy's tent, finding Miles on the floor right where he'd left him. His eyes flutter open when Charlie kneels down and kisses his cheek.
"Bug, what are you doin' up?" Miles asks, not seeming to really grasp what's happening until he sees Bass stow the gun back beneath the cot. His eyes widen, but he says nothing as Bass climbs back into bed. Charlie follows him onto the bed and wraps herself up in his arms, making herself right at home. Miles sits up so his face his level with their heads.
"Is everything alright?"
Bass' brain and body are so exhausted that he can't even formulate a response. Luckily for him, Charlie's there to help.
"Yeah, but I think Bass needs some cuddles."
Miles chuckles as she reaches out to him for cuddles as well. He kisses her on the nose and even though the cot groans in protest, lays down next to her.
It feels strange to be back to this. The months just after the blackout had been filled with lots of cuddles. Miles and Bass had fallen asleep countless times with Charlie squished in between them because she couldn't sleep without them by her side.
The three of them have somehow managed to survive this long. There is no blood connecting him to these two people, but the bonds of love and friendship run so much deeper here. Bass knows in that moment that he will spend the rest of his life protecting the only family that he has left.