Bass woke up to the sounds of a dying battle echoing around him. He remembered Charlie, her small arms wrapped around him. There were tears, shockingly, mostly hers. And there had also been blood. His blood. Automatically his hand went for his chest and he was astonished to find there was nothing there. Not even a hole in his shirt. Confusion reigned.

But there were more important things to do right now. Like finding Miles and Charlie and making sure they hadn't gotten themselves killed. He got up, seeing a bunch of people he didn't recognize moving around in a daze. They didn't pay any attention to him as he left.

As he walked, he found himself running his hand over his chest, searching for the hole he knew had been put in him not long ago. Charlie had seen it, her hand had touched it.

The desperate look on her face came to him. The way her features had been screwed up in fear, for him, the first time he had ever seen that expression on her face.

It made him pick up his pace, the urge to go to her intensifying.

"Don't leave me. Please." Her broken voice, the softest of kisses, the deep feeling of comfort and acceptance her small actions had given him despite the pain he had been in.

Charlie cared about him. Bass wasn't sure what to do about that information. Ever since that night by the stolen train, when Neville had threatened her things between them had shifted again. To a friendlier place. More of her smiles were directed at him; the real ones, that lit up her already beautiful face and made it stunning. In a way, it was a good thing. A great thing even. But it also caused him more spontaneous unwanted erections than he could ever remember suffering during puberty. Every time she smiled at him he couldn't help wondering what that happy grin would look like from an entirely different angle.

And there had been moments where it seemed like maybe she had similar feelings about him. Sly touches that technically weren't necessary, odd intense looks when she knew that no one else was watching. And the thing he enjoyed most - her absolute and total hatred for any woman that decided to flirt with him. He'd never admit it out loud, but sometimes he had caught himself encouraging the attention - just so he could bask in the irritated reaction of his best friend's niece. Bass wasn't sure what that said about him.

He regretted it now though - wasting so much time holding on to the idea of her being even slightly possessive of him. What he should have done was grab her and plant one on her, a long time ago. Which was exactly what he planned on doing when he found her. If she shot him down he could always claim temporary insanity after passing out like that. Not like he didn't have a history of being slightly wacko.

But somehow he didn't think that she would shoot him down. She'd told him that she wanted him. Even if she had believed he was about to die, Charlie wasn't a liar. There had been nothing but honesty in her earnest gaze in that moment.

A small smile formed as he approached the clearing they had arranged to meet at when everything was over.

The first people he saw were Rachel and Aaron. Neither of them looked very happy and they were shooting worried glances over at someone curled up by the fire. They didn't look up as he walked over to the them.

"Well?" He spread his arms. "What happened? Are we finally robot free?"

They ignored him.

"Hey, what's up with you two?" Again, neither of them even glanced his way. What had he done now?

"Rachel!" Bass reached out to grab her arm and watched in mild bewilderment as his fingers passed right through her.

Confusion quickly turned to horror as his hand flew back to his chest, clutching at the undamaged shirt.

Fuck.

"Staypuft.." He tried. "AARON!" Aaron didn't even blink.

Bass whirled towards the figure by the fire. Charlie.

There were tears on her face as he came near her. She looked distraught.

With dawning terror, he realized what was happening here.

The sheer absurdity of the situation left him baffled. He'd never really believed in an afterlife, but apparently some form of it existed.

Charlie suddenly shifted, letting out a cry of total emotional pain. His heart broke. It seemed like it was his destiny to always be the cause of her pain. A swift surge of emotion made him kneel next to her and raise his hand to her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Charlotte."

He heard the gasp from her a split second before he noticed that his hand was actually touching her, not just passing through her body like it had with her mom.

Springing back with a jolt of panic, he stared at his fingers as if he'd never seen them before.

"What the hell?"

What was happening to him? Was he dead? Dreaming?

Bass was distracted by the sight of Miles staggering into the clearing and making a beeline straight for Charlie. His brother looked fucking awful. Red, blotchy, sorrow-filled face, his normally squared shoulders slumped in defeat - half-empty bottle clutched tight in his fist.

Miles half - fell down next to Charlie and immediately pulled her to him.

Bass watched as Charlie rested her head on her uncle's shoulder and never felt more alone in his life.

They were clearly devastated. He had long since stopped expecting anyone to give a crap when he died, but the sight of their grief brought him no pleasure.

"We have to go back for him." Charlie's voice sounded small, wounded.

"We can't. Not yet." Rachel told her as she approached them with Aaron close at her heels. He patted Miles on the back and took a seat beside Charlie.

Rachel grimaced under the furious glare of her daughter.

"Charlie, the Nano aren't gone yet. They'll take a while to die out. We're not entirely safe here as it is. If we go back there now we'll probably be walking into a Nanite firing squad."

For some reason, Aaron's gentle explanation sent her over the edge. Charlie angrily pulled away from Miles and stood, fresh tears glistening on her cheeks.

"We can't just leave him there!"

Miles said nothing. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. But Bass felt a sliver of fear creep up his spine. Somehow, he didn't know why, he was filled with dread at the idea of her going back there. "She's gonna go back there if you don't stop her you dick! Miles!"

"Your mom's right Charlie. There's nothing we can do for him, not tonight. We'll go back for him in the morning, give him a proper burial." Miles spoke up.

If Charlotte could see what it cost Miles to say those words to her, she ignored it. But Bass couldn't. He could see the pain in his brothers eyes.

"But-"

"But what Charlie?" Miles snapped.

"He's all alone. We just left him there, all by himself. With them." God, he wanted to hold her. He saw all three people with her flinch visibly. To his surprise, it was Rachel who stepped forward to comfort her.

"He's not alone, Charlie. He's with his family now. What's left behind isn't Monroe anymore sweetheart, okay? He's alright now." Rachel hesitantly reached out to take her daughters hand in hers. "And he wouldn't want you to get yourself hurt because of his body."

For the first time in years, Bass found himself nodding along to what Rachel was saying. Lucky she couldn't see him, or she'd have dropped dead along with him, out of shock. The mental image cheered him up for half a second.

It didn't stop his heart from giving a lurch when Charlie silently sank back down next to Miles. "Charlotte Matheson," he muttered, "crying over me... Never thought I'd see that." He couldn't help it, the frustration of what was happening to him was boiling over and the slightly sarky comment was out before he even considered the pointlessness of speaking.

Charlie's head shot up, eyes wide. "Did you hear that?"

Three sets of confused eyes followed her as she frantically looked around again.

"Hear what?" Aaron asked, shooting a worried glance towards Miles.

Excitement bubbled in his chest as Bass looked on, knowing her eyes were searching for him. "I'm here, Charlotte. I'm right here." He rushed forward, falling to his knees in front of her. "Charlotte..." But his words didn't reach her this time. He tried to touch her again but his hand went right through her like she wasn't even there. The only sign she'd felt anything at all was the slight shiver he saw go through her. But it was enough to send a spark of hope through him. Somehow, Charlie could hear him, could feel him.

He was scared, that much he could admit to himself. He'd died, hours ago, yet here he was. There was no white lightm no waiting family members. It could only be a good thing that there weren't any flames or men with pitchforks either.

If she could feel him then it meant that he was still around, was still him. There was a comfort in that at least. He sat beside her, watching as more survivors from the battle arrived back at camp. Rachel and Aaron took care of injuries and dishing out the news about him. Before long, the camp had settled for the night.

They had won. The greatest threat to humanity had been destroyed. The patriots were all but wiped out and come tomorrow morning, the world would know that the power was coming back. But the mood at camp was somber. Everyone was keeping an eye on the pair by the fire.

It was no secret that Miles and Bass were brothers who went back years. Or that they had both been to pretty dark places over the years. It was also no secret that Charlie, on a good day, held the same kind of exasperated affection for Monroe that she did for her uncle. And that she had the innate ability to push back the darkness in both men. Now, however, she seemed broken. If Miles went off the rails, Charlie would be more likely to follow him over the edge rather than pull him back.

If either of them noticed the wariness of the people around them, they made no move to reassure anyone.

As everyone fell asleep around them, Bass sat with the pair, keeping silent vigil over their grief as if he could shield them from it.

Eventually. Charlie fell asleep, head on Miles' lap. She looked so young and untroubled when she was sleeping. Bass had needed to stop himself from reaching out to touch her face on a hundred different nights. If she woke, or anyone had seen him, he'd surely have ended up stabbed.

At least there was an upside to being dead.

He intended on running his fingers across her cheek, her lips, maybe push her hair out of her eyes. Instead, he felt a pulling sensation in his stomach the second he made contact. He tried to pull his hand back, alarmed, but it didn't move. His head was spinning, the world around him dissolved into a whirl of colors. Before he could decide if he was petrified or not, the spinning stopped and his back slammed into the ground. Bass sat bolt upright and immediately saw that it was now daytime and he was no longer beside a camp fire.

Charlie was back home, where she had grown up. She found herself sitting in the fairground she always used to escape to when things were rough at home. She'd had this dream a dozen times. Usually, she was alone. But occasionally the quiet dream turned into a nightmare when her dead appeared one by one, to torment her with her inability to save any of them. And then she'd wake up and find it wasn't real.

This time though, she knew she was dreaming. Something felt different. The hairs on the back of her neck were prickling. The air seemed thick and everything was just a little bit too bright.

As her eyes adjusted, she saw someone walking towards her.

And the world shifted beneath her. She stood up quickly, heart hammering inside her chest.

"Monroe?"

He blinked at her, seeming as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

"Hello Charlotte."