Chapter 18: Reckoning

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and following. Each notice makes me a happy camper!

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

It was late evening and Rachel was reading a botany book at her desk, yes she had scraped so low as to start reading about plants she'd never get to see, when Bass burst into her room.

"Rachel, Rachel, come quick, you've got to see this!" he shouted, gesturing frantically.

Rachel closed her botany book, tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, and followed him out of her room. Miles should be coming back soon. Was he back already? She was so focused on that happy thought, that she didn't notice the lack of guards at her door.

She raced behind Bass, hoping to catch her first glimpse of Miles. Rachel had managed to catch up with Bass, and even overtake him a little, when out of the corner of her eye she saw him stop. She tried to stop too, but the floor was slick – not wet slick, greased slick – she windmilled her arms, trying to stop herself when she slid right out a huge open window at the end of the hall.

A scream of pure terror was ripped from her throat as the Earth's gravity pulled her down at 9.8 m/s^2, and she thought of Danny, her sickly, tiny baby, of Miles, of Ben, of Charlie. She landed on the gravel with a thud, a wave of pain reverberating through her, focusing on her wrist and clavicle, and then her world went black in a profusion of pain.

Rachel woke up to the feeling of numbed pain and murmured voices.

"You have to hurry."

"He's coming."

"Here's the paralytic."

Rachel vaguely felt a needle pinch her at the elbow and then her eyes closed of their own volition.

Rachel felt a sheet being thrown over her, and some eternity later the cool breeze of it being removed.

Light-years away and eons, she could hear Miles' voice, ranting, raving, grieving. He would save her. Was she dead? She wanted to comfort him, but it was hard enough just breathing through this fog.

Inhale, thud, thud, thud.

Exhale, thud, thud, thud, thud.

Rachel heard Bass' voice, and felt the sheet being thrown over her again.

Inhale, thud, thud, thud.

Exhale, thud, thud, thud, thud.

Rachel slipped even further from consciousness.

Fifteen years after The Blackout

Miles walked back to the camp, a few sagebrush bushes piled on his back. He couldn't find any dry deadwood in this desolate area, and had gotten some stinky, sticky sap on his stolen sword while attempting to hack at the brush. He didn't know if it would burn, but there was no fucking way he would return to camp empty-handed.

Rachel had scared the shit out of him. Seeing her small hunched body, unmoving on the opposite shore, he had been sure he was going to lose another one of the few people he cared about, and before he could work out his rage at her too, Charlie had filled him in about how Rachel had ignored her pleas and had abandoned Nora to bleed-out.

Miles padded softly into camp, mostly to test Charlie's abilities, when he heard Rachel's voice crackle with emotion, "Do you think I want to be this person? This cold calculating bitch? Of course I don't. I'm broken Charlie, broken."

Miles paused; he wanted to hear more, to hear if Rachel would finally breathe a word about what had happened to her in Bass' hands. Why she was broken, and maybe why she wasn't more broken.

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, silent.

Miles could see Charlie lay an arm on her mother's shoulder, and Rachel lean against her daughter's legs.

Miles felt a strong sense of déjà vu. This was not the first time he had watched mother and daughter embrace in the firelight, but it was the first time he was afraid Rachel would hurt her daughter, unintentionally on some damned fool quest. He had yet to work out his own knotted feelings about Rachel and her single-minded focus on getting the power back – all of the destruction she may or may not have caused, her role in Nora's death, it was all just too much. His own feelings for Charlie were far simpler – he had failed to protect her mother, father, and brother; he would not fail to protect her. Even if the person he had to protect her from was Rachel.

Miles intentionally stepped on a twig, and was pleased to note Charlie's quick response – weapon and eyes trained on the direction of the unannounced visitor within a few seconds.

Miles softly called, "It's me." And watched Charlie lower her gun. It would be better if they didn't have to have a fire – it was visible for miles – even tucked away in this little stream-worn gorgelet. It blinded guards and the smoke could be smelled for miles too, but Rachel was damn near frozen solid and needed the heat in this cold, thin mountain desert air, especially since the militia still had her jacket.

Miles piled the sagebrush near the small blaze, and Charlie walked away to watch the camp from a different vantage point. Miles was grateful.

Rachel examined Miles in a series of small, attempting-to-be-subtle peeks. Eventually she worked up the courage or whatnot and asked, "How long were you standing there?"

Miles quirked a half grin, "You should be the one on guard duty."

Rachel replied wearily, "Well-honed survival instinct."

Miles grimaced at the implications.

Rachel continued, "I'm not trying to pass the buck on Nora. I knew what I was doing. I thought it was for the best, 'the needs of the many…' and all that, and I didn't know about Randall."

Miles nodded. You could trust Rachel to try to justify her irrational decisions by quoting Spock.

Rachel caught and held his eyes with her ice-blue eyes, with a darker, ocean-blue ring around them.

"Miles, I'm sorry about Nora. I know you loved her, I know Charlie loved her. I would have done things differently had I known about Randall."

Miles was torn. This apathetic 'apology' scarcely scratched the surface of their issues, but he wasn't ready to move on. Not by a long shot. Nora was an amazing woman how didn't deserve to die for such an awful cause. Miles tried to remember the vibrant, sexy woman in her prime, not as a corpse.

But Rachel was right, she was broken, and he had had a large role in her breaking.

Before Miles could come up with a response of any sort, he could hear Aaron trample through the brush and grass, disrupting the mood.

Miles studied what Aaron held in his hands, they looked like dried road-apples.

He looked at Aaron questioningly, and the chubby hacker quickly explained, "I couldn't find any wood, and this is what the old pioneers used on the Oregon Trail."

At Miles' further inquiring look, he continued, "The real one, not the computer game, and they should burn better than sagebrush."

Miles nodded, and stood up to spell Charlie in guard duty. It was a good thing his subtle training of Aaron was progressing so smoothly; someday he might be helpful and un-annoying member of the party.

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