Author's Note: I did change a few minor details in this chapter from the actual episode as well as filled in blank spots. Hope you like it!

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Bass awoke completely dazed; the first thing he noticed was numbness throughout his entire body. The next thing that occurred to him was that he could not see. That was actually more terrifying than the lack of feeling and the soft scraping noise that came from above him. He spasmed as the scraping got louder, trying in vain to direct his body movements, finally registering the dirt that was falling onto his arms and face. The drugs were still very much in his system though so all he managed was twitching his fingers. He didn't understand what was happening and the loud crack directly above his head sent him into a panic, blue eyes darting wildly around as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Rachel's face appeared above him, not at all helping to calm his nerves.

Rachel found Monroe already awake by the time she pried the lid off the coffin. She crouched above him, breathing deeply from the exertion of digging up the grave. She quickly looked him over and shook her head at the confusion and touch of panic in Monroe's eyes, "Don't try to move." She hauled him out and unceremoniously dumped him on the ground beside the grave, immediately setting to work filling it in again. She doubted anyone would be out this way but just the same she wanted to get Monroe moved before sunup. She was finished fairly quickly and walked over to Monroe who had fallen asleep yet again on the cold ground. Rachel frowned and nudged him with her shoe, waiting until he was blinking blearily at her before she bent down and pulled him up. She shoved the shovel into his hand as he swayed, figuring he could use it as a cane and help her get him to the abandoned farmhouse she picked for his hiding spot. She wrapped an arm around Monroe and kept one of his arms over her shoulders. She clenched her teeth as they began the slow journey, reminding herself that if this got Charlie to even speak to her again, it was completely worth it.

Finally, Rachel and Monroe arrived at the farmhouse, Monroe regaining the mostly efficient use of his legs about halfway there. Rachel shoved the door open and helped Monroe up the stairs and into the bedroom that she had already prepared, letting him fall onto the bed. She hesitated, then grabbed a blanket and draped it over him. If she wanted Charlie to see she was sincerely sorry for what she had done, Rachel needed to make sure Monroe was alive and taken care of. A quick glance told her the man was already asleep again. Rachel did not want to watch over him anymore than she had to so, even though she was exhausted, she decided the best course of action was to get Miles out here as soon as possible...which meant reaching him before he drank himself into a coma.

Rachel arrived back in town and, after a quick word with Aaron, walked into the bar where Miles and Charlie were still residing. Miles had apparently stopped drinking and was just gazing listlessly at the table, apparently lost in thought. Charlie was simply sitting at the bar, keeping an eye on her uncle in her peripheral view. They both looked up at Rachel as she stopped in the middle of the room.

"I need you both to come with me," realizing they were both probably furious at her, she elaborated, "I have something to show you but it's outside of town and we need to get there without Patriot attention."

Charlie just raised her eyebrows at her mother and Miles scowled, "Rachel, I told you. I'm done fighting."

Rachel gave a sigh and walked over to Charlie. "I know you're angry at me but this is important, Charlie. Make sure he's ready to leave town a half hour before dawn," she told Charlie in a low voice.

It was Charlie's turn to scowl, "What makes you think you have any right to order us around?"

Rachel hesitated and then replied, "You're right. But this will help him. I promise."

Charlie hesitated but she shot her uncle another worried glance and nodded, turning away from Rachel.

Rachel looked sadly between her daughter and Miles before leaving the bar, going to her house to catch some sleep before it was time to leave again.

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The sun was just rising as Miles and Charlie followed Rachel out of town. The villagers were still celebrating the execution and the Patriots' hands were full trying to maintain the rowdy crowd so the three were able to slip out easily. It was an uncomfortable trip; Miles and Charlie staying in sullen silence until they reached the house. Rachel took them in but hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, "I brought you here because I had to tell you...Monroe is not dead."

Miles looked at her in disbelief at first but almost immediately it switched to anger, "What the hell are you trying to pull, Rachel?"

Charlie broke in, "Why'd you really bring us here?"

Rachel nodded, "You don't believe me. Go check. First room on the right."

Miles frowned but headed up the stairs. Charlie gave her mother a long look and followed him. Miles stopped right outside the door, hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at Charlie and when she gave him an encouraging nod, he set his jaw and opened the door. His jaw dropped at the sight of his best friend asleep on the bed. He heard Charlie's sharp intake of breath but stayed focused on Bass. He crept in until he was right next to the bed. When he saw the gentle rise and fall of Bass's chest, he let out a breath that came out as a choking sound. Rachel and Charlie were standing behind him but he paid no attention. "Bass," he said sharply, the name sounding almost like a question. The effect was immediate; his friend jerked his head toward Miles' voice though his eyes remained shut.

At the sound of Miles calling his name, Bass was pulled from his sleep. He forced his eyes halfway open, trying desperately to find the source of the reassuring voice and hoping it wasn't another one of his tortured dreams. Everything was blurry and he blinked, trying to make the room come into focus.

"Hey, look at me," Miles ordered, concern making his voice harsher than he intended.

Bass's tired gaze finally landed on Miles and he stared at him for a moment, mind slowly registering the concern emanating from his friend. Bass's own eyes lit up and he forced himself to speak, wanting to erase Miles' worries. "Hey, buddy," he whispered, a small smile crossing his face as Miles relaxed. He heard Charlie and Rachel speaking in the background but he let his gaze wander around the room, trying to remember what all happened. He felt safe since Miles was by his side.

"How you feeling?" Miles asked him, trying to mask his relief, "Can you walk?"

Bass looked up at him, a goofy smile on his face, "Look at you. You're happy to see me." The drugs had gone from numbing his body to simply removing the filter between his brain and his mouth. He honestly couldn't tell the difference between what he was thinking and what he was saying out loud.

Miles tried to keep the smirk off his face and shook his head, "What?"

"You missed me," Bass stated matter-of-factly, "You're my best friend." He grinned at Miles, the drugs and the escape from death making him almost euphoric.

Charlie smiled at that and looked at Miles, waiting for his reaction and hoping he would take the chance to mend his friendship. After all, she realized she'd forgiven Bass when she heard the bell tolling his death.

Miles couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped or the happiness that sparkled in his eyes at Bass's honest proclamation. He'd just began wondering if their relationship was forever damaged because of his confession in Bass's cell but apparently his brother's trust and loyalty were still as strong as ever. "Okay," he said, "Thats-..that's enough." He started to turn away, not ready to have a heart-to-heart just yet but Bass's suddenly insecure voice saying his name stopped him. Concerned, he turned back and sent Bass a questioning look.

"You have to tell me," Bass whispered, eyes wide and voice low enough that only Miles could hear him.

Miles crouched next to the bed, leaning closer to Bass, "Tell you what?"

"You have to tell me where my son is," Bass replied softly. It was worded as an order but it sounded like a request.

Miles' eyes darkened for an instant before he glanced away, "One thing at a time." He laid his hand on Bass's shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze before he stood up and turned to Rachel, "How long until he's a hundred percent?"

Rachel shrugged, "Couple days."

Miles turned back to Bass as Charlie and her mom talked, not surprised to find Bass already looking at him. He winked at his friend and dropped into the chair next to his bed, lightly shoving Bass's legs over and propping his feet up on the side.

Getting the message that Miles meant to stay with him, Bass smiled and finally let his eyes drift closed again.

Charlie and Rachel had gone back downstairs and Miles was still keeping watch over Bass when a distant sound like thunder had him jumping up. He looked out the window and saw a dark cloud of smoke rising from the middle of Willoughby. He turned around just as the two women burst into the room.

Their entrance jolted Bass back to consciousness and his eyes darted around the room, searching for Miles. He relaxed when he located him but then he too caught sight of the smoke.

Miles knew he needed to go with Charlie and Rachel to find out what happened in town but he wasn't at all sure about leaving Bass here alone. He tilted his head at his friend and Bass immediately nodded to him, silently telling him to go. Miles raised an eyebrow, you sure?

Bass rolled his eyes, don't worry.

After threatening Bass with bodily harm if he didn't stay in bed and get better, Miles left with Charlie and Rachel. As soon as they were gone, Bass kicked off his blanket and tried to sit up. A lot easier said than done but he knew that explosion didn't signal anything good and he wasn't going to lay around in bed while his brother faced whatever it was by himself. Fifteen minutes later, he'd managed to move into a sitting position off the side of the bed. He groaned as a wave of dizziness swept over him, his body protesting the use of energy so soon after the large intake of tranquilizers. All this from sitting up and he hadn't even tried to get dressed yet.

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Miles knew that, despite Aaron's own concerns, the guy would be safe with Bass, as would Cynthia. Weak as he was, Miles believed that Bass was still equal to himself in fighting skill and he would protect the two civilians because Miles would ask him to. However, the Patriots had locked down the town so delivering the news of Bass's new roommates in person wasn't going to happen. He was suddenly thankful they'd developed their own code during the Militia days. It was an offshoot of Morse code but they'd created their own meanings so it would be more difficult for outsiders to decipher and best of all, it only took mirrors and a light source to make it work.

Over two hours had passed since the others had left and Bass was finally dressed and lacing his boots up. A flashing light on the wall caught his eye and he stared for a moment before looking to the window. He moved the curtains aside and looked towards the town. When he saw the glinting, he knew right away it was Miles. He waited and sure enough the first message came through. It was a short one and Bass answered out loud, "No, Miles. I'm not alright. I'm hungry." The glinting resumed and this time Bass grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing down letters until the glinting stopped. When he read what he'd written, he sighed wearily, "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

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Bass was making his way through the underbrush to the sewer location Miles had told him about. Aaron and his girlfriend should be almost out and Bass wanted to grab them and go as quickly as possible. Although he was feeling a lot better, his muscles were extremely sore and he was still alternating between dizziness and nauseousness. The last thing he needed was to start puking and draw the attention of every Patriot in the area. He reached the sewer in time to see two Patriots with guns trained on the people he was supposed to protect. Before they could give another order, Bass rushed them. He made quick work of the first as he slashed with his machete. He used the dead man's body to block a shot from the second Patriot before stabbing him as well. The two men were down in less than ten seconds. Bass pointed his machete at the Patriots, making sure they were dead before turning to face Aaron and Cynthia. Unfortunately, just as quickly as it had shot through him, the adrenaline disappeared from Bass's system. He swayed on his feet, forgetting to sheath his machete. He barely registered the terrified looks he was getting. All of a sudden, the fierceness drained from his eyes and he blinked and let out a deep breath, "I uh...I think I need to...sit down...just for a moment..." Always polite, even when he felt like he was on Death's doorstep...again. He bent down, hands on his knees as he felt the blood rush to his head. Rifle rounds spraying the ground around him cut his rest short, forcing him to sprint to the nearest stand of trees.

Bass had been watching despondently as the Patriots had surrounded Aaron, trying to figure out how he was going to explain this to Miles without getting a lecture when, right before his eyes, every single Patriot burst into flames. Just...lit up like matches. His jaw dropped and he couldn't do much more than stare at the marvel before him. Still clutching his machete, he cautiously eased into the clearing again. He could see Aaron and Cynthia apparently unharmed in the middle of the burning bodies. That pretty much confirmed for Bass that somehow Aaron was the one doing this. He didn't know how yet, nor did he really care right that moment. This was definitely going to draw attention and he wanted to be far away when it did. He hauled Aaron up and urged Cynthia to her feet as well, forcing them in front of him as they all ran into the trees. Once they were well in cover, Bass took the lead, alertly picking his way through the woods and trying to stay on deer paths to cover their trail as much as possible. Finally, when he was sure they were far enough away that they wouldn't be easily tracked, he dropped into a walk and glanced back. "Aaron, you have got to tell me how you do that," he said, sarcasm tinting his words. As expected, Aaron didn't reply to him but instead talked to Cynthia, his tone condescending as it was directed at Bass.

"It's okay, you don't have to be afraid of him."

Bass snorted but didn't even look back. Some thanks for risking his neck to try and get them out of trouble. Sure, Aaron had taken out those other Patriots but from the looks of it, he didn't know how he was controlling those fireflies which meant he probably wasn't capable of bailing himself out of every fight. He should consider that before mouthing off to the guy assigned to protect him and his little girlfriend. There was silence from the woman and Bass heard the pain in Aaron's voice as he realized she was actually afraid of him, not the formal general of the Monroe Militia. Bass rolled his eyes; Miles had better meet them at the house soon because the last thing Bass wants to be a part of is a domestic dispute between two people that, honestly, already annoyed the living hell out of him.