Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Thanks to Aims 151-I couldn't reply back to you but your review gave me a push to keep updating so here's another one.

Enjoy!

Day 1

The first day was hell. Charlie thought she was tough before this, but now she wasn't so sure. Collapsing on her cot, she closed her eyes, wondering if Miles and Monroe had made it home yet. Were they eating dinner? Did they miss her?

Don't think of Monroe.

"Attention!"

Her eyes flew open and she jerked to her feet. Everyone stood where they happened to be with their arms by their sides and stared straight ahead. A man about ten years older than her with Captain insignia on his lapels walked in. He wasn't bad looking, but his eyes were cold.

"My name is Captain William Archer. This is Patriot Camp Liberty and I am your commanding officer. Some of you might be wondering what we do here. Well, I will tell you. We make soldiers." Archer walked slowly up and down the aisle between beds as he talked. Charlie made sure to take in every detail about him and the two lieutenants who stood by the door. "We make soldiers to protect this great country while we campaign to take it back from foreign invaders. Once upon a time, this land was known as the United States of America. It will be known as such again, I promise you."

He turned and started back up the aisle toward the other two men. Raising a finger at one of them, he motioned him forward. "LT Roscoe here will take down your names and ages and where you come from. Sound off from the front."

What would she say? She couldn't say Charlie Matheson, that's for sure. And how old should she say? Did only younger people get brainwashed? Jason was twenty-one. Should she say twenty-five?

In the end, when it was her turn, she went with, "Charlotte Foster, twenty-two, Granville, Texas."

And then a few minutes later, it was over and the soldiers left. Charlie looked around the room for a minute and then laid back down. She needed some shut eye if she was going to start snooping around tomorrow. There were twelve of them altogether and she was the only one who even looked capable of defending herself to any extent. There was one boy who reminded her almost painfully of Danny, but he also looked soft around the arms. Not a fighter.

How was she going to keep these kids from being hurt the same way Jason was?

XXXXX

"Can you see anything?"

Miles shook his head and handed the binoculars to Bass. "No sign of Charlie since she went inside, but other than those guard towers over there and the rotating patrol, it doesn't seem very tight. Fort Knox it is not."

The plan had been to ride the train back to Willoughby but they hadn't counted on it leaving so soon after dropping the cadets off. Miles made up some excuse about needing more time and truthfully Bass was glad. He didn't like the idea of leaving Charlie here anymore than Miles did.

Which was an uncomfortable thought.

He raised the binoculars to his face and scanned the building entryways. "There's guards posted at all the doors. We could take them. Hold on, there's movement on the west side."

There was a figure climbing out of the window on the third story next to a tree. It wasn't Charlie was it? No. Some boy who looked like he was sixteen or seventeen. "What's he doing?"

"Escaping, probably. Great," Miles said in a dry tone. "Hope this doesn't mess up our timeline."

Suddenly an alarm sounded and the kid slid from a branch and dropped hard onto one beneath him. He screamed and banged off it to the ground. Floodlights came on and soldiers swarmed the motionless figure.

"Is he dead?"

"I don't think so."

"Any sign of her?"

Bass scanned the solders and everything from the doors to the windows but didn't see her. He heard someone shouting.

"Take him inside. I'll deal with this in the morning. Line them up at dawn."

Bass had a sudden trickle of dread. He looked over at Miles.

"Yeah. We're staying. Get comfortable."

Bass gave the barest hints of a smirk at getting his way without even having to ask for it and turned over onto his back. "You know that kid's gonna get his ass kicked, right? Or worse. You think she's gonna do something stupid?"

Miles was quiet for a minute. "You should've seen her when I first met her. The kid literally couldn't go a week without doing something stupid. Letting bad guys go, helping stray children, getting cozy with Nora and her band of rebels… I just can't with her sometimes."

Bass was quiet for a moment. "When I first met her, she literally had a gun to her head. I couldn't believe it. She basically dared Strausser to put a bullet in her." He paused. "I remember thinking I hadn't met someone so brave in a really long time. I thought, 'She is definitely Miles' blood relation.'"

Miles turned his head and gave him a sour look. "And then you tried to kill all of us for weeks."

"I wasn't in a good head space at the time," Bass shrugged. "Besides, you tried to kill me first."

"You deserved it."

"Yeah … I did. But not from you."

They were quiet after that and for once Bass let it go, deciding to think of Charlie instead. Miles was an old dog who couldn't learn new tricks. There was too much bad blood between them and lately, Bass was thinking that maybe he didn't need him as much as he thought he did.

If Miles and Rachel went off together, that would leave Charlie and him all alone to do whatever they wanted to do with no interference. After the Patriots were gone, Bass would slowly start rebuilding his empire and he was very sure he could convince her to follow him.

She'd loved being with him. That much he knew. You couldn't fake that level of enthusiasm. The way she had so freely given herself over with wild abandon made him hot and cold all over and he had to stop thinking about her or he'd go insane.

He rolled over and propped himself against a rock. There. That was sufficiently uncomfortable enough. Now if his nether regions would follow suit he could get some sleep.

Four hours later, guard changed shifts and the sky began to lighten. The sun would break the horizon in about twenty minutes. "Miles, what's going on?" he asked tiredly, sliding back into place next to his old friend.

"Nothing yet-wait. There's movement."

Bass swiped the binoculars and watched as eleven figures marched out onto the grounds and arranged themselves into formation. "Not really a tight bunch," he remarked, thinking back to when he was a soldier himself.

"Shut up and see if you can find Charlie."

"She's in the first row, middle."

"What's that the off to the left? Is that what I think it is?"

Bass glanced quickly to the left and his heart sank. "Yeah." Well, this wasn't going to be fun.

The man in front of the formation-Captain someone-started talking but they could only hear every few words or so. Something about escape and duty and punishment. Then someone was dragged from the building and tied to the post off to the left.

Bass searched out Charlie's face and his chest felt heavy at the expression on her face. Her eyes darted over to the boy and then back straight ahead. The boy was crying now and pleading.

"Five strikes for attempting to leave the facility," the Captain ordered. He waved another soldier on and then stepped back to observe.

Bass looked over at the boy and then squinted. There was something about him… "Hey Miles, look at this kid."

Miles swiped the binoculars and focused in. "Tall, blonde, cute … he's exactly your type, Bass."

Bass rolled his eyes. "Funny. Look familiar?"

Miles fell silent. Then he scooted up a bit and swung over presumably to look at Charlie. The soldier with the whip swung his arm back. "Don't do it, kid. Just keep your mouth shut."

And then Bass heard Charlie's voice, clear as day, yell out, "Wait!"

And they both groaned.