Chapter 17: The Awful Truth

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

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

Trigger warnings: POV Stockholm syndrome/PTSD

I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit.

Ten years after The Blackout

Miles woke up in his bedroll, panting, sweating, with jizz in his boxers. Nora was sleeping soundly nearby. He and Nora had a large former National Guard tent all to themselves – a perk of leadership. Miles stared at one mold-stained corner of the thick canvas tent. He didn't know what he was going to do with himself. It was as if seeing Rachel naked after all of these years had thrown a switch in his mind, had released some mental block. He'd been lying to himself this whole time. He wasn't protective of Rachel because she was Ben's wife; he was protective of her 'cause Bass was right. He loved her. It was a sick and twisted thing. He was a sick and twisted thing. Miles shouldn't be dreaming about Rachel. Rachel was Ben's wife. He respected Ben too much to poach his wife – he repressed the fact that he'd been keeping the self-same wife as a prisoner for over three years.

And he had Nora. Nora wasn't some guilt-free consolation prize. She was an amazing woman who could understand him better than Rachel ever would. Could understand what made him tick better than Rachel could. Could throw a knife through someone's eye into his brain from 30 feet away. Could build a pipe-bomb from random scavenged crap. Could snark with the best of them. She was one hell of a woman. Then why did he keep dreaming about Rachel?

Not just any dreams. Not simply dreams of college-Rachel, or simply lusty sex. No, his dreams were elaborate rescue scenarios. He'd come back early from his training session two years ago and save Rachel from her nightmare-man. Most of the time he just had a blank skin-toned oval for a face, but sometimes it was Strausser, and sometimes it was Bass. But Miles would get there in time. Would prevent her nightmares from ever coming into being. Rachel would wrap him in her arms, and then she'd show him how grateful she was.

He was fucked up. He wished he'd never taken Rachel in the first place. Then he wouldn't be in this situation of having to decide if he should see if Rachel wanted anything close to what he wanted, or if he should let her go and try to forget about her, or if he should man up and push his feelings aside.

Miles rolled out of his bedroll and went over to his washbowl. He splashed some water on his face and wet a washcloth. As he cleaned himself up, he thought about what he should do. Bass would be excited that he finally got the balls to admit his feelings and tell him to go for it, completely bull-rushing over the morality of the whole fucking situation. Ben, well even if it wasn't his wife, he would still probably tell him to not even think about going there, and to let Nora know as gently as possible that his heart wasn't fully in their relationship. Ben had always been the angel on his shoulder and Bass the devil. What Miles really needed was a third opinion – but whose?

Jeremy wasn't here right now, and he was kind of a bozo. He'd probably draw comparisons between Miles' situation and some soap opera, and that wasn't exactly the sort of advice he wanted. Alec was a good kid, but Miles wasn't about to ask him for advice about women, it was supposed to be the other way around! David Kipling was a solid man, but he liked his hookers – no strings, no emotions, just a nice fuck. Jim wasn't around either, and he too liked his women to come without strings. And Jim genuinely liked Nora. As a person, which was saying a lot for the normally chauvinistic guy. Both of them would be bewildered by the amount of thought he was putting into this.

Anyways, he had time to decide. They were almost done with their retaliatory land grab. That would teach 'President' Foster what was what. Miles crawled back into bed and accidentally woke Nora. She gave him a sultry look and Miles responded in kind. What better way to take his mind off of his issues with Rachel?

Fifteen years after The Blackout

Rachel stared into the fire, shivering in the cold mountain air. The boys were off looking for more firewood, and Charlie was watching the camp armed with one of the stolen rifles. Rachel had nearly drowned in their escape from The Tower via the water-cooling system, and the Penrose River was pretty damn cold. The water was fresh snowmelt, and even though it had been used to cool down The Tower's supercollider and klystron, the water was still only a few degrees above freezing.

Miles had warned them that the water would be cold and Rachel intellectually knew it would be cold, but damn; it had been so cold that her peripheral nervous system neglected tell her she was cold after the first few minutes. It had been almost pleasant. Except for the whole trying not to drown thing. It was second time in as many days that she had almost died, and the second time in as many days that her body won. Perhaps the universe was telling her something; maybe that the mind over matter cliché was a load of crap.

Rachel laughed a cold harsh biting laugh – a laugh without a trace of mirth or joy.

Rachel could feel the weight of Charlie's eyes on her back. Rachel turned and looked at her daughter, memorizing the glint in her eye, the set of her jaw, the slight curl to her lip.

…In what distant deeps or skies/ Burnt the fire of thine eyes?...

Charlie said, "I hate you. You're a psychopath."

I was angry with my friend:/ I told my wrath, my wrath did end…

Rachel suppressed another mirthless laugh, knowing it would only drive her daughter further away – and not really help her illusion of sanity. Rachel knew her daughter hated her for leaving Nora to die, but Rachel could only feel a dull, distant echo of regret. She had done what she had thought would be best at the time, and looking back, second guessing, only led to more pain.

Rachel wanted to mend her shattered relationship with her daughter, but was certain that it would be impossible. She tried calming herself with her mantra but the words tasted like chalk on her lips – dry and faintly bitter. She looked up and caught Charlie glaring at her with her stark blue eyes. On one level Rachel was sad that Charlie hated her so, and on a deeper level she was sadder that her happy little girl hated anyone so fiercely.

…And what shoulder, & what art./ Could twist the sinews of thy heart?...

Rachel looked at her daughter and said wearily, "Go ahead and hate me Charlie. I deserve it. But just know one thing."

Charlie retorted, voice full of attitude like the teenager Rachel never got to meet, "What?"

Rachel softly replied, "No matter how much you hate me, you'll never hate me more than I hate myself. I've got a lot more practice than you."

…And I sunned it with smiles,/ And with soft deceitful wiles…

Charlie just looked puzzled and Rachel continued, "Do you think I want to be this person? This cold calculating bitch? Of course I don't. I'm broken Charlie, broken."

Rachel paused and looked at her daughter. Charlie seemed on the verge of caving.

When the stars threw down their spears,/ And watered heaven with their tears,/ Did he smile his work to see?

Rachel continued, "I thought that by fixing the world I could fix myself, by revenging Danny I could revenge myself, but look at how that turned out. And being her is the only way I can stay together enough to… " Rachel trailed off, did she have any goals to live for? To finally kill Bass? To help Aaron find this Texan hacker and turn the power back on, again? To get to know her daughter? For Miles?

As Rachel was pondering why she fought to keep the shattered pieces of her self together, she felt a young, wiry arm rest over her shoulder. Rachel leaned into the warmth of daughter's lean legs. Carefully timed reveal of the truth for the win, again, celebrated Rachel.

… And it grew both day and night/ Till it bore an apple bright; …

- Author's Note: Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :)