Author's Note: First off, shout out to driver picks the music for perfectly putting into words in their review exactly what has been frustrating me about Revolution lately. Miles and Rachel have got to be the most annoying T.V. couple since Ryan and Marissa from The O.C.

And don't even get me started on how useless Gene is to this whole cause! Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing!

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

Bass liked to think he was a patient man when circumstances called for it but his fuse was rapidly deteriorating. One of Conner's "buddies" thought it necessary to shove the butt of his rifle into Bass's back every few paces despite the fact the Bass had been walking just a step behind Conner.

Oblivious to the identity of the man in front of him, the thug once again slammed the butt of his rifle into Bass's back, laughing as he did so.

Bass turned and glared at the kid, murder gleaming in his ice blue eyes as he took a step toward him. The kid flinched back a little and Bass smirked viciously before following Conner once again. He still had it, apparently.

That dealt with, Bass turned his attention to Conner, "You're making a mistake."

"You still trying to sell that?" Conner tried to keep his voice sarcastic but there was a definite weariness beneath the tone, "You and me are gonna be kings of the world, huh?"

"Could've been," Bass answered, "If you didn't have your head crammed so firmly up your ass."

Conner kept walking but turned his head to flash a grin at Bass. As tired as he was, even he found that comment somewhat funny.

They came to a gate that was swung open by two armed guards, both of whom seemed very familiar with Conner. There was some sort of party going on in the courtyard beyond but Conner ignored all of the activity as he made his way through the crowd to the impressive villa seated at the edge.

None of that really caught Bass's eye as much as the man hanging from a tree, whip marks evident all over his body. "What'd he do?" Bass asked Conner.

Conner just smiled and said, "Didn't do his job."

Bass took one more look at the man before looking back to Conner. That scene was a little too familiar to Bass, reminding him once again of the things the Militia had done under his command. The worse part was that it was his own son brushing it off nonchalantly, so much like Bass had done not too long ago. His thoughts were interrupted as he was shoved roughly through the front door of the villa.

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

Miles and Rachel had been tracking Bass and Conner through the streets but ducked under the cover of a bar front as they saw them go through the gate. Miles immediately began going through all the possible plans in his mind but he wasn't coming up with much. From the small glimpse he had gotten inside, there were plenty of civilians but also a fair amount of armed guards. That wasn't counting the home, either.

"I can't believe we have to rescue that son of a bitch," Rachel declared in disgust, looking at Miles for agreement.

Miles hesitated for a second, mind replaying the many times in their lives that Bass had pulled his sorry ass out of trouble. He shook the thoughts away and answered, "I know, I know." He didn't really want to get into this discussion again, at least not until everyone was back where they belonged. Without a word to Rachel, he walked inside the bar and ordered himself a shot, downing it in one quick gulp before going back out. After this trip, he had a feeling he'd need much more where that came from.

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

After navigating several halls, Bass was finally led into a bigger room that was lavishly decorated with all manner of pre-Blackout paraphernalia. "Wow," Bass said to Conner, "Your boss has really nice taste."

Conner ignored him in favor of grabbing of bottle of something, Bass couldn't tell what, from a table stocked with alcoholic beverages and pouring himself a shot.

"It's like Donald Trump threw up on Scarface," Bass went on, watching the man in front of him tighten the bindings on his wrists.

Conner finally faced him, all traces of humor gone. He looked seriously close to lashing out when another man entered the room, drawing Conner's attention.

"Conner!" the Mexican man exclaimed before rambling something in Spanish.

Conner answered the same way and Bass watched with growing suspicion as the two interacted so comfortably.

The man said something else that made Conner laugh before clapping him on the shoulder in affection.

Bass stood there quietly, evaluating them both until the man finally acknowledged him, sizing him up as the smile dropped off his face.

Bass stared right back at him, waiting for him to make the first move. After all, he wasn't entirely sure the man even spoke English.

"Sebastian Monroe," the man said finally, "It really is you standing here in my house."

Bass raised an eyebrow just slightly before flicking his eyes to Conner, giving him a look that was clearly asking him if this guy was for real.

Conner didn't give any indication that he noticed, just stared at Bass stonily.

When Bass didn't answer, the man held out his hand, "It's an honor to meet you."

Bass glanced down at the man's hand, scoffing a little as brought up his bound wrists to shake the man's hand. "Yeah," he replied, grasping the other man's hand tightly, "I can imagine the thrill."

The man took a step back and looked back and forth between Conner and Bass, "So, it's incredible Conner, here, is your blood."

Bass almost smiled at the man's wording; he'd inadvertently quoted what Bass had told Conner mere hours ago. "That's right," Bass said, meeting Conner's annoyed gaze.

"You know," the man said, "I always knew he was special somehow. I knew it from the first time I saw him." The man's tone suddenly lost the friendliness and turned cold, "That's why I took him off the street, gave him a home. My home." He turned his attention from Conner to Bass, "I practically raised him. And now look at him. He's my right hand."

Bass snorted quietly. He knew the man was trying to make him mad but it wasn't working; the guy was a joke and a full head shorter than Bass, making intimidation futile, "That's touching, really," Bass answered derisively. His tone turned challenging, "So, uh...what're you gonna do to me?"

The man glowered at him as he asked Conner, "What do you think, Conner? What should we do with your dear old dad?"

Conner studied Bass for a moment, "I say we sell him to the highest bidder. Texas. Mexico."

Bass nodded slightly and dropped his gaze to the floor. He hadn't really expected Conner to defend him or even want anything to do with him...but it still hurt.

"Someone's gonna pay a lot for his sorry ass," Conner went on with a smirk.

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

After observing the villa for about about an hour, Miles had a plan. This party was making things easy for him; he simply walked to where men were unloading crates of drinks from wagons and walking them into the lower level of the home, grabbed a crate, hefted it onto his shoulder so his face was shielded, and joined the workers. He had Rachel stay behind outside the gate, working as a lookout and generally just staying out of the way.

Miles ran into a bit of a snafu when he entered the basement and tried to walk past the bartender, though. The man attempted to stop him, speaking to him sharply in Spanish. Trying to play it off, Miles turned, answered with some gibberish that he couldn't even understand, then darted around the corner. He quickly put down the crate and, sure enough, the bartender swung around the corner, meeting Miles' fist before dropping to the floor, knocked out cold.

With that taken care of, he moved the man's body into hiding and dashed up the stairs, slowing down and creeping stealthily past the guards as he searched the house for Bass.

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

Bass, by this time, had been unceremoniously dumped into a small jail cell where he sat on the floor, leaning against a barrel. He thought back to the last time he'd been in a cell, right before his execution. If he didn't figure something out soon, he might very well find himself in the same position again. He looked over at the sound of footsteps, a little surprised to see Conner approaching.

Conner walked up to the bars and tossed a hard slice of bread onto his lap.

Bass picked up the slice, turning it this way and that as he inspected it. Sure, he was hungry but this didn't look the least bit appetizing...and it certainly didn't feel edible, "You know, out by the pool I swear I saw empanadas."

"You'll have to make do," Conner answered sharply, looking down on him, "We only need to keep you alive a couple days. 'Till we find a buyer for ya."

Bass shrugged, it was worth a shot, and let the piece of "bread" fall to the floor. "Look," he said, climbing to his feet, "I know I am completely screwed, okay? But I gotta warn you."

Conner took a small step back from the bars; clearly he had more respect for Bass's skills then he gave credit for. "Warn me?" he asked, mocking Bass with a condescending smile, "What, I should be scared of you?"

"Not me," Bass said seriously, "This guy, Nuenez, I've seen a thousand psychos like him. You should get as far away from him as you can." He wasn't joking; people called him crazy all the time, Miles, Charlie, and Rachel included, but Bass could see Nuenez trumped that by a mile.

Conner's gaze turned icy and he took a step closer to the bars, "When my aunt and uncle died I was alone. Starving. Nobody cared. Nobody even looked at me. Except for him. He treated me like I was his son."

Bass closed his eyes for a second, reining in his temper. When he opened them, there was a new resolve, "But he's not your blood. Yeah, he's nice to you 'cause that keeps you on the hook. The minute you screw up, you're gonna be strung up and whipped to death, too."

"Yeah?" Conner asked, "Well, I'm not gonna screw up, so-" He was abruptly cut off as a pipe made contact with the back of his head. He hit the ground, unconscious, to reveal Miles standing behind him.

Bass was extremely surprised; he had figured Miles and Rachel were long gone by know, had expected them to pack up and leave as soon as they saw him missing. He met Miles' eyes and Miles sent him a look of pure irritation as he grabbed the keys from Conner and unlocked the cell door.

"Let's get outta here," Miles said shortly, already walking toward the door.

Bass started to follow but as he glanced back and saw Conner start to stir, the words he'd just said replayed in his mind and he stopped. He'd been telling the truth; Nuenez would no doubt kill Conner if Bass left. That didn't mean he couldn't protect Miles though, "You gotta go, Miles."

Miles halted and spun around, stalking back to Bass, "What? What're you doing?"

Miles had every right to be pissed, Bass figured, but he tried to explain, "Look, if I get away it's on the kid. Nuenez is gonna hurt him, maybe even kill him."

"Right!" Miles agreed, "But what do you think is gonna happen to you?"

"He's my son, Miles!" Bass said, "I'm not leaving."

A shout from downstairs and a bell tolling announced what was happening.

"Go," Bass told Miles softly. Miles just stood there and Bass felt anxiety creeping up on him. "Go!" he shouted, giving Miles a shove on the shoulder to start him moving.

Finally, Miles shook his head and took off out the door. As soon as he did, Bass turned to Conner, taking his gun and pointing it at him as he hauled the kid to his feet. Then, he flipped the gun so the handle was toward Conner, not attempting to stop him as he grabbed the gun and turned it on Bass, stepping away from him and breathing hard.

"You're a hero, kid," Bass told him, seeing how confused Conner was, "I was trying to escape. You caught me." He stepped into the cell and Conner quickly locked the door again.

"I don't understand," Conner said, still pointing the gun at Bass's head, "Why you doing this?"

Bass didn't get the chance to answer as several men came running into the room behind Conner.

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

Bass was leaning against the corner of his cell thinking about what had just happened. He could've sworn Miles had sounded concerned when he brought up what would happen to Bass and he had been extremely hesitant to leave without him...what was that about? Could Miles actually- Bass shook that thought away immediately. Miles didn't care about him, he just needed Bass there to help fight off the Patriots. A disturbance outside the room caught his attention and broke him away from his thoughts. His heart sunk a moment later as he saw two men drag a bleeding Miles in. They opened the cell door and tossed him onto the floor before leaving.

Bass stayed quiet and unmoving as Miles raised himself up, blood pouring from his mouth, and rolled himself onto his back. As soon as Miles looked at him, Bass moved to his side and sat next to him without a word. He and Miles just looked at each other silently for a few moments.

"You're a dick," Miles finally declared.

Bass let a small smile onto his face at that; it sounded just like the old days. From the time they were kids they would frequently find themselves in trouble together and that was usually the first phrase Miles would utter when it was Bass's fault. Apparently, not much had changed.

Miles got to his feet and started looking around the cell. Not finding anything of use, he started pacing.

Bass settled back against the bars with a nearly inaudible sigh. He and Miles had been in a position similar to this before and if this was anything like last time, he had a lecture heading his way. When Miles didn't say anything, Bass figured he should get it over with and finally broke the silence, "What was I supposed to do? He's my son."

"Oh, shut up," Miles replied, finally stopping his pacing and throwing a glare at Bass, "You've been his dad for five minutes. Now all of a sudden you're Cliff Huxtable?"

Bass was suddenly reminded of the conversation last night and he lifted his head to look at Miles, trying once again to make him understand, "What, you wouldn't do the same for Charlie?"

Miles looked down at him and the frustration and hurt in Bass's eyes prevented him from snapping back. He glanced away but Bass's soft voice made him look back.

"Look, I saw the kid in trouble, I couldn't leave him, alright?" Bass stated, leaning his head back against the bars. It was what it was, this was the situation they were in and arguing wasn't going to change it. Miles didn't answer, turning his back and Bass's tone turned slightly desperate, "Maybe this gives him a step up with his boss or something, wh-what do I have to give him, huh? What have I got to give him, Miles? I got nothing!...So, I gave him me."

"Yeah," Miles scoffed, turning around again, "Well, you gave him me, too." Bass opened his mouth to apologize but Miles shook his head, "I cannot believe the first selfless act of your entire life is the one that screws me, too. Thank you."

Bass frowned at that. In all their time together, Miles had always been the leader and Bass followed him everywhere. He would've followed Miles to the ends of the earth without Miles ever needing to ask him to. No selfless acts, huh? How about leaving the Marine base after the blackout to help Miles find his family? What about when Miles had been shot in the Trenton campaign and Bass never left his side, despite the fact that it should've resulted in both their deaths. It was only by the grace of God that they'd managed to escape. Or when Miles had been hurt in the explosion and Bass had committed every bit of manpower in the Republic to finding and eliminating the culprits. Granted, that act had been the beginning of the end for them but it didn't change the fact that Bass's biggest concern has always been for his brother before himself.

But Bass didn't bring any of that up. Instead he just let out a breath and sagged against the bars of their cell again. Nothing he said would change what Miles thought of him, especially not now.

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

After their argument, Miles finally took a seat against the wall opposite the bars. He felt Bass's eyes on him but just closed his own and ignored him.

Bass had been leaning against the bars but tensed when Miles closed his eyes. Until now, Miles had been pacing the cell and Bass had felt safe enough knowing that if anybody came in, Miles would let him know. Years of fighting had taught him to never leave his back unguarded. He might be stuck in a cell with nowhere to go and no way to fight but that fact didn't erase the weariness.

Bass got to his feet and stood there awkwardly. After all, it was a small cell and Miles was sitting so his legs were taking up Bass's spot against the barrel. The only other spot facing the door was at Miles' side. Well, he wasn't going to stand there all night. He dropped down beside Miles, expecting a snarky comment or at least a glare. To his surprise, Miles actually scooted over to make a little more room for him.

As they sat there silently, Miles considered what they were going to do. They had no weapons. They were badly outnumbered. Hell, they couldn't even get out of the damn cell. They had Rachel on the outside but Miles didn't hold out much hope for that. Bass's voice brought him back to reality.

"I'm sorry," Bass told him, staring straight ahead, "I didn't mean for this to happen, for you to get caught up in this."

Miles sighed, "I know." There was a pause and Miles didn't know what else to say. He knew he should probably apologize but he'd always been bad at stuff like this. Just then, the door swung open and two guards came in. They opened the cell door and one covered Miles with his rifle while the other hauled Bass up and dragged him out of the room. The other guard slammed the cell door shut and left just as quickly.

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

The guards led Bass through the house and onto the balcony overlooking the party down below. The body that had been hanging over the edge was gone and Bass felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Sure enough, they took off his shirt and put him in the same position; hands above his head and attached to the beam, feet barely grazing the edge of the balcony.

Bass wasn't sure how long he'd been hanging there when movement to his side caught his eye. He saw Conner walking toward him, a bull whip coiled in his hands. It didn't take Bass long to put the pieces together and he correctly assumed Nuenez was behind this. He stoically turned his head to look down at the crowd again, trying his best to ignore the anticipation of the coming pain.

He clenched his teeth as the lashing began; he would not give Nuenez the satisfaction of crying out. Again and again the whip landed on his back until he was bruised and bloodied. He heard Conner say something but couldn't make out the words through the haze of pain surrounding him. A moment later, the guards cut him down and started dragging him toward the house.

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

Miles was back to pacing his cell. He had no idea what the hell they wanted Bass for and the more time that went by since they took him from the cell, the less optimistic Miles became about his return. Finally he heard the guards coming and he watched the door intently. He was momentarily relieved as he saw that Bass seemed to be walking under his own power and Miles stepped back from the door so the guards would put Bass back in, tossing his shirt in with him. As soon as they were gone, Miles turned to evaluate Bass's wounds. His eyes widened as he saw all the whip marks that were still dripping blood. He grabbed Bass's shirt from the floor, wincing as he helped the other man back into it.

Knowing he was about to be questioned anyway, Bass told Miles the short version of what happened, trying to distract himself from the constant burning on his back.

"So your kid did this to ya," Miles stated, anger seeping into his tone.

Bass was bent over, breath coming in shuddering gasps but he answered, "Yeah. Guess I should've hugged him more."

Miles stepped toward Bass, hands hovering over him but not touching him. He didn't know what to do or how to help and he didn't want to make the pain worse. Footsteps had him spinning around and he stared in surprise as Rachel ran into the room, quickly unlocking the cell door.

"What're you doing?" Miles asked in disbelief.

Bass was just as confused as he watched Rachel step into the cell.

"Move," she demanded impatiently, looking back at the door.

"Keys?" Bass asked, "W-where'd you get keys?" He seriously doubted Rachel killed any of the guards...that left Conner as the only other option.

Rachel answered truthfully, "Your son."

Miles raised his eyebrows and turned his head toward Bass to find Bass was already looking at him. A look of determination came over Bass and he nodded at Miles.

Miles took the lead, Bass fell in behind him, and Rachel stayed a couple steps back. When Miles called for a halt at the corner of the hallway, Rachel's eyes fell to Bass's shirt where blood was soaking through in definitive lines. She hadn't hear the guard coming but as soon as the man rounded the corner, Miles punched him in the face and walked by while Bass took him down with a hard jab to the stomach, taking his sword from the sheath and quickly following after Miles. Rachel had to admit that, even after all these years, they still worked together impressively.

Miles, Bass, and Rachel were stopped in the middle of the next room by the appearance of Nuenez himself. It took a moment for them to realize he had a guard holding Conner with a knife to the kid's neck.

"That's enough," Nuenez told Bass, "Put the sword down."

Bass looked around for any alternative and when his eyes caught sight of the shelf near him, a plan began to form. He placed the sword on the shelf, handle hanging off just enough to grab. "Just let him go," he said calmly.

"He slipped that bitch the key," Nuenez said, "Actually thought he could get away with it."

"I'm sorry!" Conner told him, "I wasn't thinking!"

"Loyalty doesn't need to think!" Nuenez answered, glaring at Conner.

Bass didn't like where this was going at all and he tried to put Nuenez's attention back on himself, taking a step forward and keeping his hand near the sword as he spoke, "Don't-don't...don't hurt him, alright?"

"I have to hurt him now because of you," Nuenez replied tauntingly, "Because he tried to take you from me. And you I own."

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Bass would've made fun of Nuenez for sounding like an overzealous girlfriend right then but he held back, not wanting to make things worse while the knife blade was so close to Conner's throat. He tried another tactic, "I thought you said he was like a son to you."

"He is," Nuenez acknowledged, "He's broken my heart." He spoke directly to Conner, "I took care of you and you've chosen him," he looked back at Bass, "Over me."

Conner looked at him like he'd lost his mind, "Let's just talk about this!"

Nuenez shook his head, "Sorry, kid. But you know better than anyone that I can't have people thinking I'm weak."

Conner looked at the others for just a moment and swallowed when he saw that none of them looked too confident. Well, if he's going to die, he's going down with the last words, "Well, I'll tell you. You know who obsesses about weakness? Weak people."

Bass felt both surges of pride and panic at Conner's words; he had a feeling that Nuenez was on the edge already and Conner's words just pushed him off of it.

"Adios, Conner," Nuenez answered coldly.

Bass looked around desperately, he just needed an opening to make his move but he wasn't sure how to get it. Unknown to him, Miles was doing the same thing.

Just then, Conner slammed his head back into the guard's nose, breaking the hold he'd had on him. That was just the opening Bass needed. Quick as a flash, he made a grab for his sword and began slicing through the guards, trying to make his way to Nuenez.

Miles and Conner had joined in the fight and even Rachel took down a guy using a pan she'd grabbed from somewhere.

As Bass took down another guy, he paused for a second to watch his son fight. He glanced over at Miles who was also watching. "Hey, he's pretty good, huh?" Bass said breathlessly but with a smile.

"Shut up and focus," Miles ordered, sending his own guy to the ground.

Bass finished his guy off then jumped forward to he was protecting Conner's back, pointing his sword threateningly at the couple remaining guards. "Come on," he taunted one, dodging the man's wild charge and dispatching him with a few quick stabs.

In only a couple minutes, all the guards were dead or very near death, leaving only Nuenez in the room with Bass, Miles, Conner, and Rachel.

Conner glared at the man and Bass was right behind him but he could hear more guards approaching.

"C'mon, let's go!" Miles shouted, sprinting toward the exit. Rachel followed and Bass walked up to Conner, laying a hand on his shoulder, "Let's go."

With one last glare, Conner followed Bass and they caught up with Miles and Rachel. It was so hectic around the villa that the escape from there was actually pretty simple. They didn't stop until they were far out of town and darkness had fallen.

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

Bass volunteered for first watch that night and Miles and Rachel fell asleep immediately. Bass sat beside the fire, absently poking it with a stick, deep in thought about the events of the day. Miles hadn't left him and had actually come to rescue him, sticking by his side through the entire fight. Rachel had helped rescue him, although that might've been more for Miles' sake than his own. But still. He looked at them and couldn't help but think that maybe this could be fixed, after all. It would take time, lots of that, and plenty of work on his part. But maybe his "family" wasn't as broken as he thought. And he had Conner, now.

As that thought entered Bass's mind, he glanced around for his son, feeling a little worried when he didn't see him. He got up and walked to the firelight's edge, straining to see through the darkness until he could make out Conner's form. He walked up but stopped a couple steps behind. "That was pretty stupid back there," he told Conner lightly, "Sticking your neck out like that. I just, uh...I just wanted to say-"

Bass was cut off as Conner turned and angrily shoved him back. "Go to hell," he growled.

"Take it easy, alright?" Bass said in annoyance, "My back..." he trailed off as he felt for the wounds reopening.

"Helping you was the worst mistake of my life!" Conner snapped, "I lost everything I had 'cause of you!"

"You're welcome," Bass said sarcastically. Conner simply turned his back again and Bass rubbed his face, frustrated and tired as hell. He obviously had a lot to learn about being a dad. He was about to walk back to the fire when Conner spoke.

"You think you can get it back?" Conner asked.

"What?" Bass asked sharply.

Conner faced him again, "Everything you pissed away. Your army. Your Republic.

Oh yeah. Bass had promised Conner that, hadn't he? Well, now was not the time to tell Conner that he had no intention of ever running a Republic, a Militia, or anything ever again. The kid would just leave and Bass would be back to square one. Time to instill some confidence, "One, I can do whatever the hell I want. That's the way it's always been. Two...we're gonna get it back. You and me. Together."

Conner studied him intently, mistrust still apparent. Finally he gave a slight nod, "Good. But you better be telling the truth."

Bass smirked, "Okay, first we gotta mop up some of these red, white, and blue cockroaches but you stick with me. We're just getting started."

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

Once again, thank you for all the follows, reviews, favorites, everything! I'll try to update fairly quickly since there isn't a new episode this week.