Miles gave her enough time to get some food, take care of what she needed to, before making his way to Bass's tent. The guards outside looked uncertain about letting him in, but they had their orders, and he came in with a bit of a frown. He cast a glance her way, then moved first to where Bass lay, standing by his bed and watching him, just lying there.

For a moment, he had a flash of their positions, reversed, and another part of him welled with a rage he'd only felt once in the last several years--when Charlie was lying on the steps of the sewer and he didn't know if she'd wake up, and he'd have loved to resurrect the man who'd shot her, just to kill him all over again, only more slowly this time.

For the first time, he understood the five coffins, no matter how small three of them had been.

He moved to kneel down next to Bass's head, reaching out to brush a hand over his head on the uninjured side. Leaning in he murmured, "Wake up, asshole. For some reason, she needs you. And she's not the only one."

One more pass of his hand, and he stood up, moving back over to her and looking down at what's on the desk.

"What's he got there?"