Author's Note: I did not change hardly anything from the episode. This is actually less of a fictional story and more of an insight into what Miles, Bass, and sometimes Charlie might have been thinking during all the scenes the guys had with each other during One Riot, One Ranger. Even though it's not a completely new story, I hope you enjoy it! =)

Miles followed Charlie out of the town and along the stream that ran along the train tracks. He'd given up questioning their destination and instead decided to try and breach the sore topic of Rachel, "You know, she really missed you, Charlie." The girl didn't even glance back at him. She kept up the steady pace and the resolute silence so Miles continued, "I'm just saying, when you see her again go easy on her. Okay?"

Charlie finally answered but her tone was sharp and sarcastic, "Yeah. I'll try to play nice. Promise." With her back still to Miles, she didn't let him see the frown on her face. She didn't know exactly why but she knew she didn't like Miles defending Rachel to her. They had almost reached the spot where she left Bass so she glanced back at her uncle, making her tone light as she told him, "Okay, so now you need to promise me to not...you know...explode or go crazy." Honestly, she didn't know what to expect. On one hand, Miles had once tried to kill Monroe. On the other, she'd seen him broken up by the prospect when they walked to Philly.

Miles raised an eyebrow, still following her, "Wait, huh?" He followed her around the outcropping of rocks and up the embankment as he shook his head with a smile, "No. That's never a good-" he broke off when he saw Bass standing a little ways away.

Miles abruptly stopped in his tracks and Bass, holding his shotgun in one hand, raised the other in a calming motion, hoping the man wouldn't completely freak out. "Miles," he greeted wearily. He stayed where he was, waiting to see Miles' reaction.

Miles stared at him blankly for a few seconds before turning his head to look at Charlie, frowning in bewilderment as he tried to piece together what in the hell was going on.

Charlie opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again, looking at her uncle apologetically as she gave a small shrug.

Some sort of understanding appeared on Miles face but as he stalked towards him, Bass knew Miles had drawn the wrong conclusion.

Miles got in Bass's face as he snapped, "What did you do to her?"

Bass didn't want another fight and tried to convey that through his body language, backing up a step and holding his free arm out as he tried to calm Miles down. "Whoa, nothing," he said softly, looking Miles right in the eye.

It didn't seem to work. "I know you, you son of a bitch. What'd you do to her?" Miles asked him again, tone rising.

That one hurt but Bass ignored it, not breaking eye contact with Miles as he replied, voice still calm but with a hint of desperation, "I didn't touch her."

Charlie chose that moment to break in. "Hey, hey! I wouldn't let him touch me," she told Miles.

Bass could see that Miles was listening to Charlie so he added, "I saved her life."

Miles looked at Bass again, studying his face as he tried to decide if that was a lie. Bass let him, refusing to look away as he silently willed Miles to just trust him again.

Finally, Miles glanced down and it finally occurred to him what all this meant. He turned to look at Charlie disbelievingly, "You brought him here." Since it was a statement instead of a question, Charlie didn't answer and Miles returned his gaze to Bass, wavering between laughing at this ridiculous situation and punching him in the face. "Okay," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Charlie, let's go." He turned away and started walking. Charlie tried to interrupt but he cut her off with a stern, "Now." It was Bass's voice that made him turn around.

"Hey, I just walked halfway down the map to help you!" Bass couldn't completely keep the waver out of his voice but he couldn't just let Miles walk away, not after everything he'd just gone through to find him again.

"Sorry?" Miles asked, challenging him.

Bass risked a few slow steps closer, "That's right. With these U.S. guys..."He gestured to Miles' bandaged hand, "By the looks of it, you're gonna need it."

Miles walked up to him again, stopping when he was directly in front of Bass. "Oh," he started sarcastically, sizing him up, "You're here to help me."

Bass just looked at him, not really sure what Miles was getting at and figuring he wasn't going to like it anyway.

The look on Miles' face changed and for the first time Bass could clearly see the pain in his eyes. "I don't want your help, Bass!" Miles told him with a shake of his head, stumbling over his former best friend's nickname, "I should kill you!" Bass immediately picked up on the lack of conviction in that last sentence, as did Charlie and Miles himself.

"That's right," Bass answered him, bitterness seeping into his tone, "But you're never quite able to pull the trigger yourself...right?" He searched Miles' eyes for some sort of agreement and was slightly heartened when Miles didn't look away or disagree. "Come on, Miles," Bass urged him quietly. Still no response so Bass decided to switch tactics, try something they did to each other frequently when they were younger: Goad him into action. "Look at yourself, you handicapable schmuck. You can't do this alone. You need me," Bass told him, voice defiant. He saw the small smirk on Charlie's face out of the corner of his eye but didn't look away from Miles.

Bass honestly thought his somewhat immature plan would work when he saw Miles obviously struggling to control his temper.

Instead, Miles just grit his teeth and answered, "You wanna help me?" He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, his expression was carefully blank, "Then go away." Once again, he turned around and started walking.

Bass glanced at Charlie but she just looked back at him, waiting for him to do something. Well, Bass figured, he'd just be honest. Not like he had anything left to lose. "They nuked our city, Miles!" he shouted in frustration. Miles stopped walking, listening so Bass continued, "They burned it. They're trying to pin it on me. I want payback." Miles still wouldn't face him and while it irritated the shit out of Bass, he went on, "Best way to get it is you and me...together..." He cursed himself for suddenly sounding so uncertain. Making his voice firm, he finished, "You know it."

Miles finally turned around, looking at Bass with a guarded expression as Bass said, "I'm asking...I'm asking for a truce."

The silence stretched far too long before Miles sighed. "A truce," he agreed, "For now."

~~MM~~MM~~MM~~MM~~

The three moved closer to the railroad support, keeping them a bit more hidden as Miles filled Charlie and Bass in on what's been going on with the Patriots and Willoughby.

"If they're after my mom, why don't we just grab her and go? Charlie asked.

"Where?" Miles answered, fidgeting with the bandage on his hand, "Those plastic sons of bitches are everywhere." He glanced up and caught Bass's eye, shaking his head and looking down again as he stated, "This is as good a place as any to make a stand."

Charlie put her hands on her hips, "Miles, you're talking about starting a war."

Before Miles could reply, Bass jumped in. "Damn straight. That's smart," he said, sounding a little eager, "We get the Texans to fight the Patriots for us." Feeling a little like they were back in the old days and noticing that Miles was looking at him, Bass said, "You know, it's kinda like that thing in Ann Arbor!"

Charlie looked at him and then Miles with interest, "What happened in Ann Arbor?"

"Drop it," Miles said quickly, the barest hint of a smirk on his face.

Charlie looked over at Bass who just looked confused. Another quick glance between the two men and she could tell they were in the middle of some silent conversation. She looked at her uncle and was surprised to see a bit of...amusement? In his brown eyes as he looked at Bass.

Bass knew that look Miles was giving him; it was the one that said Bass should shut his mouth now, "Okay," he replied just as fast, "Sorry."

Miles looked forward again. Although he knew he shouldn't be, he was both slightly impressed and amused at how well they could still communicate without saying a word. "John Fry is leaving first thing," he said, changing the subject, "I'm supposed to have proof for him by tonight." He didn't mean to allow the hopelessness into his tone but if he were honest, it wasn't looking good.

Bass surprised both Charlie and Miles when he interjected, "Don't worry. We'll get you some proof."

~~MM~MM~~MM~~MM~~

Miles took Charlie and Bass to the train yard where he'd watched the tribe members get executed. Unfortunately, there was nothing there. Not a trace that any of the yard had been anything but abandoned for years. Charlie was scouting around the perimeter while Miles and Bass checked the boxcar.

"Well, it was filled with prisoners yesterday," Miles said, looking around. He jumped out of the car and onto the ground.

"Well, you knew they were gonna scrub the scene. What'd you expect?" Bass asked, looking around cautiously.

"I dunno," Miles answered, also scanning the area, "A lead. A thread. Anything but jack squat."

Seemingly satisfied that the area was still clear, Bass turned to face Miles, "Buck up, pal. We'll get Fry his proof." He'd meant that to sound reassuring but Miles narrowed his gaze at him.

"What is that?" he asked suspiciously.

Bass honestly didn't know what he was talking about, "What?"

Miles walked closer as he explained in a sarcastic tone, "You're practically skipping. You having fun?"

Bass resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that wouldn't help anything. Instead, he let out a small laugh that was anything but humorous and stepped up to face Miles, "Wait, what do you think? That I want to be here? With you?" The look on Miles' face told Bass that's exactly what he thought. "Don't flatter yourself," Bass remarked.

Miles glanced down, "Okay," he said quietly, getting in Bass's face, "Let's be clear. Maybe you are...useful. But this is not Butch and Sundance." Bass didn't reply, just looked at him, keeping his expression neutral so Miles continued, "You are nothing but a dark pit that I spent too many years trying to crawl out of. Last thing I'm gonna let you do is pull me back in." Miles didn't know the exact reason why, but every time Bass acted like his old self, Miles wanted to hurt him. Since he wouldn't do any physical harm, he tried to make his remarks as scathing as possible. Maybe it was the fact that Bass was being his old self and Miles didn't know how to handle that. It just made him miss what they'd had even more. It was easier for him when they were constantly fighting, when Bass was just General Monroe, the bad guy. Miles had gone to great lengths to make himself accept the fact that his best friend was gone. He'd finally gotten to the point where he didn't feel the pain of abandoning his brother every day when he shows up in Miles' life again, acting like going back to the way it was is a simple matter.

Bass again felt the pain from Miles' words but, just as he had with Charlie, he ignored it, responding with a simple, "Uh-huh." He didn't completely believe Miles, though. If Miles had said half this stuff before everything happened at the Tower, it would have crushed Bass. But he couldn't forget Miles' words to him as he'd helped him escape. Whether Miles wanted to acknowledge it now or not, he'd admitted they were still brothers and Bass was going to do his best to get Miles to see that he just wanted to help them. At least try and make it up to him.

The tense silence was broken by Charlie walking up to them, "It's not much but I found some wagon treads." She frowned as she observed the two men. She could tell she'd interrupted something but didn't know what.

Miles and Bass looked at each other again and Miles replied, "Well, it's better than nothing. Let's see where they lead." He turned and started walking to where Charlie had been.

Bass watched him go, suppressing an irritated sigh. He noticed Charlie casting a curious look his way and gave her a small smile, gesturing for her to follow Miles. With one last look around the train yard, he walked after them.

~~MM~~MM~~MM~~MM~~

The small group had been walking throughout the afternoon and into the night. Darkness had fallen long ago and they still hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. They were just walking into what appeared to be ruins of another small town when Bass finally broke the silence, "Well, I hate to break it to you, pal, but this trail is going nowhere."

Miles just looked away and kept walking. This time Bass did roll his eyes but allowed the silence to fall over them again. A barely audible sound to their front captured his attention. He tensed and brought up his shotgun a moment before the shots came raining in around him.

Miles and Charlie ducked, running for cover behind a decrepit brick wall. Being the only one with a gun, Bass stayed in the open, taking a couple steps forward and covering them the best he could without getting shot himself. He fired off a round from his shotgun but at that distance it didn't do much to deter the Patriots. Moving quickly, he threw himself around the wall, sliding down beside Charlie with Miles on the other side. Not taking his eyes off his targets, Bass couldn't help remarking sarcastically, "Well, I guess it is Butch and Sundance."

"Shut up," Miles replied distractedly, "How many you think? Seven? Eight?" He did have enough time to recall the last time Bass and he were in a position like this; Bass had joked that because of low ammo, they'd have to switch to swords. He remembered Bass's laugh as he'd said they'd be just like pirates. The irony that his sword was now his main weapon was not lost on Miles.

With a quick look around the wall, Bass nodded, "Yeah."

"What do we do?" asked Charlie, loading an arrow into her crossbow.

Bass hesitated. "You remember South Bend?" he asked Miles.

Miles thought for a second, then nodded, "Yeah, that'll work."

Charlie shook her head. "What-you guys are just saying cities!" she snapped in annoyance.

Bass sent Miles a quick look of concern, "You sure you're up for this?" He was thinking about Miles' hand but Miles just glared at him.

"Just worry about yourself," he answered, getting his sword out.

"Heads up," Bass said to Charlie, tossing her the shotgun, "Cover us." He crouched beside the corner of the building, getting ready for the sprint to the closest shooter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miles doing the same thing on the other side. "Now!" he ordered, breaking into a run but staying low.

Charlie let out a frustrated yelp as Miles and Bass took off but covered them with the shotgun as best she could while staying behind cover.

Working from opposite sides, Miles and Bass took out the first two guys quietly with swords, picking up their assault rifles as they moved to the next Patriots. They worked their way through the line in a sort of leapfrog pattern. Every time one would get stuck, the other would be at an angle to take out the Patriot pinning them down. They moved quickly, criss-crossing each others' paths in order to keep the Patriots confused.

Miles caught the last Patriot trying to sneak away, punching him in the face and knocking him out cold. He grabbed one of the guy's arms, pulling him up. No small task since the guy, while slightly shorter than Miles, easily outweighed him.

Bass came darting around the corner, assault rifle ready but lowered the barrel as he saw Miles.

Miles glanced at him, "Help me get him up."

"What're you doin'?" Bass asked in confusion.

"He worked for Titus," Miles explained, "Works for the Patriots. We get him to talk, he's our proof." He nodded at the unconscious man impatiently, waiting for Bass to grab his other arm before he tried to move the guy again.

"Alright," Bass answered, sounding satisfied as he let the rifle hang by the shoulder strap and moved under the guy's arm, "Guess it all worked out."

~~MM~MM~~MM~~MM~~

They dragged the man to an old sawmill outside of town, chaining him to a chair in one of the small rooms and putting a gag in his mouth. He'd woken up by this time, glaring at Charlie who had volunteered first watch. Bass circled the man, making sure there was absolutely no way he could escape. Before he got to the door, he stopped and looked at Charlie, slightly concerned about leaving her with this man. He sent her a look silently asking if she would be okay in here by herself.

Charlie gave him a small nod and with one more glare at their prisoner, Bass walked out into the short hall leading into the main room. He stopped right before entering, seeing Miles already facing him. Bass leaned against the doorway and gave a quiet laugh.

Miles looked at him, annoyed, "What?"

Bass smirked, waving his hand through the air for emphasis as he replied, "Well, you gotta admit, back there that was..." he pushed himself away from the doorway, walking past Miles as he continued, "That was kinda fun...right?"

Miles didn't turn to face him completely, instead just turning his head as he tried to figure out how to respond because, yeah, he had kinda enjoyed that but he'd also told Bass he didn't want him around anymore. While Bass was having no trouble adjusting to their odd situation, Miles found it all confusing as hell. The door creaking open saved Miles from having to answer. Him and Bass looked over, not expecting Fry just yet.

Unfortunately, Rachel walked in, Aaron right behind her. She took in everything with a single glance, "What the hell is going on?"

Bass was taken aback, he hadn't expected to see her for awhile...well, he'd been hoping to avoid her altogether but at least not face off this soon. "Rachel...?" he said.

Miles could see the change in her immediately. "Oh, God," he muttered, almost to himself. He took a couple steps forward, placing himself in front of Bass as he tried to keep things from getting worse, "Alright, listen-" It didn't work. Rachel grabbed one of the assault rifles, pointing it at Miles' chest but aiming for Bass. "Hold on, hold on! Rachel, hold on!" Miles shouted, holding his hand out to stop her.

In a cold voice, Rachel answered, "Get out of my way, Miles."

Miles licked his lips, trying to think of a way to stall her, "We don't have time for this."

Rachel tightened her grip on the rifle, "Get out of my way."

"Fry's gonna be here any minute!" Miles told her, tone rising, "I'm supposed to be alone!"

"Why are you protecting him?" Rachel shouted at him.

Before Miles could reply, Charlie walked into the room, "Because he's helping us."

"Charlie," Rachel whispered, flicking her gaze from Bass to her daughter.

Charlie stopped beside Miles, "And because I brought him."

Miles, still watching Rachel closely, saw the expression on her face and knew this wasn't going to be good, "Perfect...thank you, Charlie. That's very helpful."

"You brought him here," Rachel echoed Miles' earlier statement, "And why would you do that?" Also like Miles, she figured that since Charlie hated Monroe, he must have forced her into this.

Miles figured it was time to step in. Slowly closing in on Rachel and the rifle, he said softly, "Look...You can shoot each other later." With that, he lunged forward, disarming her and taking the rifle himself. "Right now just...get out of sight!" Miles looked over his shoulder, "Bass..." he said, tossing him the rifle, "Over there." He gestured to a small closet area in the corner. "You three," he said to Charlie, Rachel, and Aaron, "Upstairs." No movement. Only Bass, who had learned early on in their military careers that it was a bad idea to screw with Miles when he gave an order, turned and walked away to his designated position. Miles clenched his teeth at the others, "I'm beggin' ya, just get upstairs! Please!"

Finally, the other three walked upstairs. Aaron stopped in front of Miles and Miles tried to ignore him, hoping he would just go away.

"So..." Aaron started, "Monroe...that's quite a twist-"

"Just get upstairs!" Miles snapped at him, all patience gone. Not a moment too soon because John Fry walked in less than two minutes later.

~~MM~~MM~~MM~~MM~~

Miles was exhausted. He kept telling himself that everything was about to get a whole lot easier once the Texans were on board but of course those plans were shot to hell when they walked in to find the prisoner dead. A cyanide tooth. The guy had a damn cyanide tooth. "Who the hell are these guys?" Miles asked, throwing the tooth down.

Fry just watched him as he asked, "So this was your proof?"

"Well, trust me, John," Miles replied, "If he could talk, you'd be blown away."

Fry frowned at him, "Well, I don't know what you want me to do, Miles. Now, I can go back to Carver and tell him I don't like these Patriots but he's just gonna go ahead and sign the treaty anyway. He's not gonna start a war."

Miles looked away, mind racing as he tried to figure out some way to get the Texans on their side.

Fry was still talking, "So unless you can come up with something-"

A shotgun blast cut him off and Miles jerked back, watching as Fry's body hit the ground, lifeless. He looked up to see Bass there, calm as ever. Miles clenched his teeth and rushed him, shoving him back into the wall as he shouted in his face, "What are you thinking?! What is wrong with you?! What is that?!" He was as close to hysterical as Miles Matheson ever got and Bass just looked at him in confusion.

"All we gotta do now is frame the Patriots for this," Bass explained, slightly surprised that Miles hadn't caught on to that already, "And you'll have your war. Texas is gonna go nuts." He lowered his weapon, looking over as Charlie ran into the room followed closely by Rachel and Aaron. He looked back at Miles. "That is what you wanted!...isn't it?" he finished uncertainly, suddenly losing his confidence when he saw the look on Miles' face.

Walking past Miles, Bass looked down at the dead Ranger and then glanced at Charlie. The look she sent his way made him want to groan. It wasn't anger or disbelief like the others, it was different. It told him that while she understood that he thought what he did was right, he'd made the wrong choice. He didn't understand. If this were back in the old days of the Republic, Miles himself would've been the one coming up with this exact plan-...and that's when Bass realized what was wrong. He was still doing things the way the Militia did them, which usually meant using manipulation and cruelness to accomplish the mission. He winced, glancing at Miles again. Yep, he still looked furious. Bass sighed; this was not as easy for him as Miles thought. It wasn't like he could just change from the Milita's ways overnight. Well. Back to square one.