- Author's Note: Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

Thank you also to xyber116 for beta'ing this chapter.

I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit. T for language and some sexual themes. Mild spoilers for 1.8.

Miles stared at Nora, standing just past the doorway of his office. As he was in the process of shaking off his amazement, and suppressing his arousal – it was important to get this started on the right foot – Nora startled him once more.

"I also heard you're leading an expedition to Baltimore," said Nora.

"Tell me how you found that out, now" he demanded, voice deadly calm. Only four people were supposed to know the final destination of the expedition: Bass, the quartermaster, the mayor of Baltimore, and himself.

Nora responded with a smirk, "You just told me."

Before Miles could stop himself, he was up, out of the chair, and holding Nora against the wall, his hands firmly around her throat. Miles now seriously began considering the possibility of some sort of long con directed by R.J. Martinez, the damn leader of Texas.

Miles was miserable; he'd have to execute this woman for being a Texan spy.

Nora shifted her body slightly in his grasp, Miles thought she was wiggling in an attempt to be provocative, but then he felt an intense bloom of pain. Instinctively, Miles let go of Nora's throat to grab his leg. Nora had scraped her foot along his shin, and it felt like hitting his funny-bone, times a thousand.

Nora darted around him, and slipped into a defensive stance several yards away from him, her eye on the window in the far wall of his office.

"Now that you're not with the choking, would you mind telling me, what the fuck just happened?" exclaimed Nora.

Miles pushed the pain to the back of his mind, and placed his hand over his sword-hilt, "Get out of here Nora, if that is your real name. Tell R.J. the con didn't work." Nora seemed genuinely confused; Miles continued his rant, the flow unabated. "Tell R.J. she picked the wrong bait. Tell R.J. it won't ever work. Tell RJ …" Miles stopped talking, Nora had stopped inching her way to the window to stare at him in puzzlement. If she was a Texan spy, she was a damn fine one.

Nora stared at Miles for several heartbeats, "You think I'm some sorta mole working for a woman named RJ?" At his nod, she guffawed, and started laughing uncontrollably.

In between laughs Miles could make out a few phrases, "… my life … a ruse … the hell …" Nora's knees gave out, and she slid bonelessly onto the floor. The hysterical laughter turned into sobs, "… self-absorbed… naïve…that's rich… a fucking con!"

Miles licked his lips, he at a complete loss of what to do. Under strain Nora had reacted as if she didn't know who R.J. was, and picked up Miles' subtle gender pronoun usage to call R.J. a she. On one hand Miles no longer had to execute Nora as a Texan spy, but on the other he had a sobbing woman on his floor.

Miles stepped back, one eye on the now hiccupping woman, and grabbed the bottle of applejack and his tumbler. Upon second thought, he grabbed a rag too.

Miles approached Nora as if she was unexploded ordnance. He loomed over her, and handed her the tumbler. It contained at least three shots of applejack. She took a gulp, and started coughing when the alcohol vapor hit the back of her throat. She placed the tumbler down, and scooted back a bit.

Nora looked up at Miles, eyes red and puffy, nose runny. "What do you do to suspected spies?" she asked.

Miles tossed her the rag. She blew her nose, sniffed, and wiped her tears off with the sleeve of her Wesleyan hoodie.

Miles waited until she was done, and then replied matter-of-factly, "Suspected spies are interrogated and then executed."

Nora froze; Miles continued, "But I don't think you're a spy anymore."

Nora quirked her eyebrow inquisitively, Miles resumed, "R.J., the leader of Texas, is male. If you had been working for him, you'd likely have not picked up the subtle gender indicator I dropped."

Nora looked like she was about to start laughing again, "So now I'm not a spy because I called R.J. a woman? I think you're tilting at windmills."

"You know Don Quixote, but not Fozzie Bear? What tribe of culture-hating barbarians raised you?" said Miles.

Nora snorted; Miles' weak attempt at a joke somehow, miraculously, relieved some of the tension. Nora said, "Let's try to forget this oddly-cathartic event ever happened, and start again."

Miles nodded and gave Nora his hand. Nora glanced at it with a hint of disdain, and sprang to her feet.

"So, I heard you've got a job for me?" she began again.

"Yes, the militia is in need of your skills with bombs on a diplomatic expedition that may get ugly."

"I heard about the expedition, as well as that fact that you were looking for me, from a friend who works in the Atlantic City Militia Base mess hall. I figured that the two things might be related. I had hoped that it might have something to do with the Baltimore Empire, and the human-trafficking bastards they refuse to take care of."

Hearing Nora's thought-process laid-out so logically made Miles feel like a dick. Miles said, "Well, now I feel like an ass. I'm sorry. I guess I am seeing monsters in the shadows."

Nora looked at him with disbelief in her eyes; she was clearly surprised he apologized. Miles gestured with the applejack bottle, wordlessly inquiring if she wanted more. At her headshake, he took at large swig directly from the bottle, and then asked, "You okay?"

Nora walked over to Miles' desk and sat down leadenly. "No," she said simply. Miles waited silently, to she if she'd continue, and she did. "I just barely convinced Mia that it was okay for me to come here, and that she'd be safe. She hasn't let me out of her sight since… And then you thought I was a mole. And you were gonna execute me! Then I cried in front of you – you! I haven't cried in years and then… in front of you!"

Miles wondered if the emphasis was because he was General Matheson, leader of the whole Monroe Militia, or if, just maybe, it was because he was Miles, a guy she liked. Miles pushed that thought back, and asked Nora carefully, "So, Mia is not doing so well?"

Nora scoffed softly and responded, "No, Mia is not fine. Just because she had been rescued by 'Prince Charming' before she'd been raped, didn't mean she is actually okay. And I love her, I really truly do, but its hard being a mercenary bomber if you have to take your kid sis everywhere."

Now here was an opening Miles could take, so he floated a trial-balloon. "It might be easier on you, and Mia, if you worked for the Militia."

"Why do you thing I'm here, instead of half-way to Boston?" snarked Nora. Miles suppressed a grin at her pluck.

"But I wouldn't have to…" Nora gestured at his body. Miles felt his face go stony, hoping he was misconstruing something, "… join the Militia?" She added.

Miles was heartily relieved. She had been gesturing at his uniform, not asking obliquely if she had to sleep with him. Miles responded, "No, you'd be a civilian contractor. You can see Master Sergeant Wells, the quartermaster, in the morning about pay and benefits."

"Yes sir, General Matheson, sir." She saluted half-seriously, and stepped towards the door.

Miles grabbed her forearm, "Please, call me Miles." His voice cracked on his own name, he cursed himself mentally, and dropped her arm. Nora gave him a look he was unable to interpret and said, "Miles" softly, before leaving the room.

God, how could one damn word be so arousing, thought Miles.

- Author's Note: This is the penultimate chapter guys, and I know it's a bit of an emotional roller-coaster. Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!