Nights in white satin – sweet dreams (I'll turn into a monster for you…)
A Revolution fic: Bass Monroe/Charlie Matheson, Charloe; Blackout AU. Miles Matheson, Rachel Matheson, Aaron Pittman, mention of other characters from the show. This follows 'Nights in white satin – sweet dreams.' After the Tower, and before he found New Vegas, Bass travelled towards Philadelphia, aiming to see what was left of the Monroe Republic… Somewhere along the way, something happened that made him wonder about the power of dreams, and why Charlie Matheson kept turning up in his…
Rating M
Author's note:
Hi there and thanks so much for having a look at this… hope you enjoy … The story is based on prompt #277 from the Orgy Armada's Revolution, The Second Coming and follows on from my previous story: Nights in white satin – sweet dreams, a new favourite sin… ongoing thanks to LoveForTheStory who is kind enough to be a lovely sounding board and who made this story a whole lot better! Thanks Love, you're awesome, xx
I don't own any part of Revolution and am writing this purely for love of the show and its characters.
Nights in white satin – sweet dreams (I'll turn into a monster for you…)
He couldn't stop thinking about her...
The strain and despair in her voice and the desolation in those lost blue eyes haunted him…
Where was she? And what had she meant about Rachel being crazy? He'd never quite understood Miles' feelings for Rachel, his brother's wife; and he'd felt sorry for Ben being stuck in the middle like that... Bass found Rachel to be cold and calculating; brilliant of course… but crazy? He sniffed… he'd always known that she knew much, much more than she was telling about the blackout, maybe she'd finally noticed all the blood on her hands…
Then he frowned, Miles could fight just as well drunk as sober, sometimes better – but the way Charlie had said it… it sounded almost like he was drinking all the time, and that would take it's toll. And the other guy with them, Staypuft? He hadn't looked like much of a fighter; so if Miles was out to it, was Charlie trying to look out for all of them - on her own? Was that why she'd sounded so desperate?
In Philadelphia he'd seen her bravery, her determination to look after her brother, the vibrant life in her when she stood up to him, to Strausser… but just now, when she was there in his arms, it was like she'd almost given up hope, given up trying…
He paced up and down, past the spot where he'd been lying when she appeared, his gaze returning to the towels still laid out there, hoping…
Or maybe he was just imagining the whole thing, had finally gone right over the edge? Although looking back, the Monroe he'd been back in Philly seemed to be the insane one; driven by betrayal, loneliness and grief to do things to people he'd cared about that weighed on his soul now like boulders…
But then Miles had called him brother again, which didn't heal anything or bring anyone back, but had meant a whole damn lot, and maybe had brought him back from the brink, even when everything else was falling apart…
The upshot was, he didn't feel insane, in fact he felt more himself than he had for a long time, even with everything that had happened, and as for the Republic, he'd never cared about that, didn't care that it was gone - except that things seemed about to get a whole lot worse for everyone if the rumours about the Patriots were even halfway right…
Whatever, it was family that was important and Miles was his family, and so, by that logic, was she…
And she'd felt so real, so solid; so damn good in his arms... He could still smell her on him for fuck's sake, still feel her lips; still taste her… So he waited at the river while his clothes dried, eating what was in his pack when he got hungry, wanting to be where she could find him if…. No, when… she came back...
And as he got dressed, his pants and shirt stiff and strangely unfamiliar clean and smelling of sunshine and soap, he paused, a button half done; that's what she'd said too, that he smelled of sunshine and soap…
What the fuck was happening?
He needed to focus on something, anything other than her… so he got busy with more sword practice, his movements choppy and restless this time, his earlier calm turned to jagged thrusts, harsh parries, his blades slicing the air with the sound of whips…
But she didn't come back…
And when the sun started to slip down the other side of the sky and the air became cooler with the promise of evening he gathered his crap and headed back to the cabin… At least he had a comfortable bed for the night, and he wasn't forgetting that she'd come to him there too…
He smiled then, the old Moody Blues song playing like a soundtrack in his head, Charlie Matheson had given him his own night in white satin…
Back at the cabin, he dumped his pack on the wooden slat table set outside the door and sat on the bench seat, leaning back against the wall, a foot propped up on the tabletop. He ate again, some more jerky, not bothering with a fire this time, watching the moon rise against a gradual and gorgeous blanket of stars that filled the sky with Van Gogh swirls as he stared at them so hard his eyes started to blur…
He had a drink from his canteen to rinse his mouth and listened to the sounds of the night, the rustle of smaller animals and birds in the bushes and tall trees around him, the breeze cool but not unpleasant… He leaned back, his eyes gradually drifting shut…
…
He woke? Somewhere else; the air was different, it was humid, damp, the smell of wet grass filtering up from the ground squelching beneath his boots and down from the leaves and branches that hung, dense and crowded above his head. He could hear the small sounds of water dripping from leaf to ground and when he looked down a puddle of water in the muddy ground showed him his own dark reflection, foreshortened and dramatic… He checked his belt and pockets, swords, knives and gun were still there, good… He also had his canteen in the breast pocket of his jacket, and his little flask of whiskey; comforting, at least he'd have something to drink, wherever the fuck he was…
So the dreaming thing worked both ways then? So where was she?
Overhead, beyond the tree line a few clouds raced each other, the moon turning their edges silver then grey then back to silver as they moved across it… The trees around him were different too, taller, thicker and he was in amongst them, hidden in their shadows…
There was a building a couple of hundred yards ahead of him in the open field, a barn maybe; looming dark against the sky. The big double doors on the side closest to him were open and the golden glow of lamplight coming from inside was a stark, bright contrast to the dark with several figures visible, silhouetted against it, the glint of moon and lamplight bright on sword edges, gun barrels, belt buckles, and the rough edges of torn and makeshift clothing.
His mind searched for a match to the description – War clan? Deserters? Militia? It could make a difference in fighting style, weapons… and as he got closer, the sounds of fighting, swords clashing, men's voices, yelling, a woman's scream echoed out into the night towards him.
Shit, she said they'd gone to a barn for shelter...
He hurried, darting from cover to cover, his eyes darting round; checking for any other hostiles and not seeing any, so they had to all be in or by the barn…
He moved, silent, up behind the three waiting at the door and sliced and diced his way through them before they knew he was there, their bodies falling onto the wet grass without a sound.
Then he crept inside the big space, the lamplight throwing crazy shadows on the high metal walls, storage bay walls stretching back into dark perspective along one side of the barn…
He saw Miles first…
There were seven…no eight bodies on the ground, and his brother was surrounded, face tense, his attention split between fighting two swordsmen, the six more gathered around waiting their turn and something else, his gaze darting out into the shadows…. Bass could just see what had to be Rachel crouched on the ground behind him, her arms round her head in a sort of foetal position, Staypuft on the ground in front of her, collapsed and limp, unconscious?
He searched, eyes frantic…where was Charlie?
Then he saw more of the rough looking men, further into the shadows on the other side of the barn. Three of them were standing, gathered around a furiously struggling Charlie who was down on her knees, another man behind her, holding her arms, forcing her down and yet another in front, pulling at her legs to get hold of her feet…
Then, somehow, she looked up and saw him… her eyes opening wide and a sort of blazing hope bursting to life in them…
Ok… He didn't care what this was, dream or not, but none of these guys were walking out of here, especially not the two who had touched her…
First, he had to get Miles out of the woods, then between them they could take care of the rest…
Bass felt himself fall into the zone, his mind planning moves, his body executing them without further thought, almost like a dance, instinctive, natural; he was very good at killing… He took out four of the six guys around Miles in a lightening flash of double scythes and graceful turns, heads rolling (almost) as well as a hand and a few fingers, blood spurting in bright lamp-lit fountains.
Miles saw him, his eyes widening for a moment in shocked recognition – and relief? Then he was back on the job, his sword flying with renewed fury and purpose.
Bass left him with four – easy odds - while he dealt with the bastards around Charlie.
All five of them were looking at her, not paying attention to anything else… The guy in front had pulled her legs out and was sitting on her thighs, getting to work undoing her belt, and the guy behind her was kneeling on her arms, and had ripped open her belly shirt, his hands roughly kneading her breasts. The other three men were crowding closer, their faces avid and bestial, hands clenched.
Bass grinned, although his eyes were hard, implacable – he'd take a bet she had let them do it, to keep them all distracted – good girl… He glanced back; Miles had finished off another two, with two more to go… so, ok, he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, time to do this…
He moved forward, first guy machete/throat, and at almost the same moment, a belly thrust with his sword for the second, then the third… a slice up into the heart with the machete, and by then he was behind Charlie and had slid his arm around the throat of the bastard with his hands on her breasts, pulling him choking, eyes bulging and his windpipe crushed, up and off her.
As soon as she was free, Charlie burst into action, a hand snapping forwards with fingers stiff, jabbing hard, into the eyes of the man sitting on her legs as he looked up in shock at what was happening…
He reared back and off her in agony and she reached down for her knife, flipped it out and that was that; the man fell back, death rattle sounding and she pulled her legs out from under him, kicking one of his away.
Bass let the body of the other man drop, away from her…
And she was suddenly on her feet, facing him, looking absolutely and totally fucking beautiful; her breasts bare, her eyes on his, the look in them searing him to his bones, and her lips wide in a smile he would remember forever, she stepped closer… 'Monroe, you came…'
'Bass? Thank god…how the…flying fuck did you find us?' his voice hoarse, incredulous, Miles finished his last opponent with a casual thrust up into the heart, his breath coming in harsh gasps, chest heaving…
Then he walked over, pulling Charlie into a hug, his eyes checking her over, rage blazing as he saw the state of her clothes…'hey, kid, you ok?'
She nodded, eyes still slightly dazed, but the beginnings of a smile curving her lips as she looked up at him…'yeah' then she turned back to Bass… 'Monroe got there in time…'
Miles looked at Bass again and nodded… 'Yeah, he did…'
Bass saw the thanks in his brother's eyes, but he had to say something, they'd been taken by surprise, been careless… 'Miles, you need to pull it together, brother, this?' he looked round the barn, there were scattered bodies everywhere… 'This shouldn't have happened…'
Miles took a deep breath and looked away, then he nodded…'yeah… I know…'
Behind them, Bass could see Staypuft slowly pushing himself up, glasses catching the light and his mouth dropping open.
Then the barn, everything, everyone just… faded away; and the last thing he saw were her eyes, shadowy, bottomless blue, holding onto his...
….
Bass nearly fell off the bench seat as he woke, the reality of the dream still ringing in his head and her eyes still holding him…
His boots felt heavy, and in the moonlight he could see that they were thick with mud, the bottoms of his jeans were as well – and he smelled of blood and death… There was blood on his swords too, the blades looking pock marked and dull with it… He stared at them, then wiped them clean on one of the towels he'd used at the river. Then he pulled out his flask – taking a long swallow, the whiskey a welcome and fierce burn at the back of his throat.
Ok, so it hadn't exactly been a dream; it had been physical, like it had been with Charlie. Somehow, something had taken him to where he could help her, help them, because he could say with absolute certainty that they had needed his help.
Miles had been badly outnumbered – even for him, and as for Charlie, she'd been doing her best but the odds hadn't been in her favour, and by the time Miles would have been able to get to her, barring some sort of miracle, Charlie would have been raped or worse...
Rachel hadn't been any help that he could see, sitting there catatonic by the looks while everyone else was fighting, and even if Staypuft had been trying, he'd been out for the count…
So, if yours truly hadn't turned up like he did, they would all have been in a pretty bad fucking situation, especially Charlie…
Bass looked around, the night here was peaceful, quiet, calm… so maybe it was this place? Nothing like these – dreams - had happened until he arrived here… Well, whoever or whatever it was, it - or they, seemed to be on his side, or on Charlie's side or both – and he was damn grateful.
He didn't know if he should say anything or do anything, but he thought his thanks anyway…
He stood up, stretched, gathered his gear and took everything inside the cabin. Then he locked the door and took his clothes off – rinsing the blood off as much as he could and hanging them over the kitchen chairs to dry…
Then he pulled the white satin sheets back into some sort of order, put his swords under his pillow (just in case) and got in to bed, the fabric cool and smooth...
Just like the night before, the moonlight came softly in through the blinds, making the room into a gently stark, striped landscape… And as he relaxed back against the soft mattress, feeling it mould to his body, so luxuriously different from sleeping on the ground, or on wooden floors, or concrete, he wondered if she would come to him again… Then he wondered what they were doing, back there, wherever there was and he hoped Miles would realize that he had to pull himself out of whatever hole he was in and do what he needed to do to keep them all safe, or at least give them a fighting chance, because Charlie had been right. Miles had looked tired, his eyes bloodshot, and it had taken him longer to work through the four guys he left him than Bass had expected… although even at his worst Miles was good at killing too…
Then his mind drifted back to Charlie - the relief, the hope in her eyes when she lifted her eyes and saw him there, that smile…
He was glad that somehow, besides killing for her, he'd been able to take some of the despair and desperation from her eyes…
…
Her sudden weight on the bed woke him…because between one breath and the next she was there, lying next to him, her body warm and slim, her head propped up on one hand, moon dark eyes focused on his and a smile curving her full lips… Her dark golden hair hung in long, greasy waves over her shoulders, and a few strands lay scattered over her small pink tipped breasts, sliding down as she breathed and he could feel one of her cool (not cold this time) feet winding between his calves, her core hot and wet against his hip … and she leaned towards him, her eyes holding his until the moment her lips touched his; then she said thank you against his mouth, her tongue dipping in to touch his as she said the words…
This time it was tender between them, a slow, burning climb to the stars… She lay beneath him, looking up at him, her eyes going hazy and soft as he fucked her, her lips kiss swollen and her tongue flicking out over them as his cock slid in and out of her tight hot, wet centre. Her legs spread wide as she took him in, her hands sliding over his chest, his shoulders, her fingers teasing his nipples, tweaking the little pebbles…then laughing as he gasped and plunged in deeper, the satin sheets sliding over them…
She swept one of her knees up over his shoulder to give him even deeper access, the muscles of her leg tensing and releasing against his cheek as she pulled him in then let him out in waves of slow, sweet, friction…
He dropped his head next to hers; nuzzling her neck and the soft, sensitive skin there, smooth over the bones of her shoulder and collar bone, pressing kisses and soft bites there until she gasped too…
Then everything went faster, harder, more urgent; their breath mingling as he plunged in deep, pushing her down into the softness of the bed, her head back against the pillows, her nails tracing frantic lines across his shoulders and back, her moans louder as he drove her faster, harder, one of her hands snaking between them to play with her clit, the back of her fingers pressed between them at each thrust…
And then, she stiffened…her breath catching, her pussy milking him as he came too in lightening flashes and hot, bright spurts that had him yelling her name…
Then afterwards, she held him, his head resting on her breasts, his breath shivering her nipple and making it pebble again as he watched, his lips curving in a smile that found an echo on her face…
He ran his hands over the lovely contours of her body; the cushioned breasts, the smooth belly, flank… his fingers finding and caressing the many scars from her journeys and his eyes catching hers in a kind of shared awareness, because they all had scars... Then lower again; smoothing the skin over her belly, brushing over the soft curls between her legs, his fingers slipping between, making her gasp again, then sliding up again, then down over the smooth, swooping planes and curves of thigh and ass…
'Monroe?'
He looked back at her face, 'yeah?'
She looked at him, her eyes very serious, the moonlight shading the contours of her face so that her eyes gleamed out at him from a stunning, black and white portrait of her… 'I don't know how… this… is happening, or how long it'll go on for or even if we'll remember any of it, later…' she leaned closer, her lips very close to his…'but I want you to know that…that I…' she paused.
He didn't say anything, didn't know what to say, so he just waited…
She let out a long breath, her lips held almost as though she was whistling; he loved the way she did that…'I wanted to say that I'm glad it did, happen I mean…'
Then she kissed him, a soft, gentle kiss that brought a lump to his throat…
She leaned back again, 'and not just because you saved my life… again…' her lips curved in that wicked grin of hers…'and by the way, thank you for that' she reached up and dropped another quick, but intense kiss on his lips, then fell back… 'Or because you made me feel alive again…' the smile became softer… 'Thank you for that too…'
She cleared her throat…'It was what you said to Miles back there... ' Her face was serious again….'He said that he's going to stop drinking as much, that it was his fault that those guys got the drop on us.' She put a hand up to his face, fingers playing with his scruff…
Bass made a noncommittal noise – because, no argument there, Miles should have been more careful, he was the fucking ex General and former Marine after all, she was just one beautiful, incredibly brave and strong woman - and one that he could feel himself falling totally and irreversibly in love with… Fuck.
Then she laughed, her legs sliding around his…'You should have seen his face – and Aaron's, when you just disappeared?' she stretched her arm out above her head…'It was priceless' she turned laughing eyes up to him. 'I think you made Miles re think his attitude to religion…'
Bass laughed too, the laugh loosening things inside him he didn't know had got so tight…
Then she pulled him towards her into a long, sweet, swooning kiss, her body pressed against his feeling like heaven itself, her hot centre welcoming him back in…
Then she was gone; his lips left searching for hers, his cock left cold and aching without her; the bed empty except for him between one heartbeat and the next, the satin still falling in gentle folds into the space where she'd been…
Shit… He fell back on the pillow, staring into the moonlit dark…
He still didn't know where she was or where Miles was taking them… He'd stay a bit longer, see if it happened again, then he could find out more, then he lay there thinking, mostly of her, for a long, long time…
And eventually he slept…
From the corner of the room beside the door, a piece of shadow moved, gently wafting over towards the side of the bed, and something that looked like a slim finger reached out to stroke down the side of his face…
…
AN: hope you enjoyed this, cheers, Magpie