outages | AND THEN...

Something about being left behind a day after thoughts of renegotiation and promises of being his and hers forever have eaten at Charlie for the last seven weeks.

They'd argued about leaving her behind (something something it wasn't safe to take her) and about her going (something something if he could go, how come she couldn't?) and it'd ended with a compromise that'd sounded suspiciously like pandering. A declaration that he'd let her visit if things seemed calm or he'd simply come back. Just that he wasn't going to allow her on the front lines of anything dangerous because otherwise, what was the point of trying to keep her safe?

She'd pretty much blocked it out once he'd started making excuses not to take her; feelings hurt, she'd pouted for the rest of the afternoon, through most of dinner, but she'd loved him all night long. She'd told him again that she was his, had let him press into her while he'd left marks on her skin and called her his. After, she'd reminded him that he was hers, too, and she'd be very put out if something happened to him and then, without exploring the ramifications too deeply if that happened, she'd curled into him and fallen asleep.

The next morning, she'd woken up alone. She'd woken up alone for the last seven weeks. It was agony as she'd realized that so much of her routine was caught up in this man, a man she'd finally realized that she loved, and now he was just gone. She couldn't be sure where, and the snippets of information she got were too few and far between.

Meandering around the large house didn't help with the boredom, though she spent time with Miles. She refused to leave, despite his insistence, and he still didn't understand. She didn't care and didn't change her mind. It surprised the men that the General had left behind, too, that all she did was entertain her uncle, and a few of the wives of the other soldiers. Just to keep up morale. That they sent notes back to inform him that yes, she'd stayed, and yes, she was keeping busy, was something they didn't share with her.

And then one day, all that tempered peace was rocked. When she came downstairs, she found everyone on edge and, when asked, the answers were vague. Not until she made demands did she find out that he'd been injured. He was expected to live, probably, but it'd been two days now, and Charlie was livid.

That she couldn't go was no longer an option. Who she was taking with her was the only question. Miles, of course. Her personal guard, naturally. And two other men. That was all. And a day and a half later, their group of five arrived at General Monroe's camp like they belonged there.

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As tempted as she was to ask for the soup now for the nutrients and possible health benefits, Charlie let it go. Instead, she listened to the rest of the instructions and nodded, down to the last little bit. It drew an unexpected smile from her.

"I can imagine," is all she said and then added. "I'll make sure he's taken care of. I've restricted access to you, myself, Captain Baker, and my uncle. So, please. Like you said, no medics. We can handle it."

Once the surgeon was gone, she made the arrangements to have soup in the morning, as well as breakfast for herself. She asked her guard if he'd gotten rest and then told him to do that, sending him on his way. Then she went to tell Miles the plan.

"I'm going to stay in the tent with him tonight. The surgeon thinks it's best." No arguments were allowed, according to her tone. She didn't even look at Jeremy. "I sent my guard to find a tent for himself. He hasn't gotten any sleep. I'm going to eat, then sleep. He's... responding to touch and to sound and the doctor thinks it's good."

The smile from her was good--he'd hoped to get one. The calmer she was, the calmer the General would be. He nodded his understanding, wished her a good night, and went to take care of his other patients.

Miles and Jeremy had gotten food and been a little at a loss, both of them more worried about Bass than either of them was willing to let on to the other. Charlie wasn't the only one who cared, after all.

Neither of them said a word of argument with Charlie's arrangements, though. They were sensible, and it wasn't like they were gonna leave Bass alone in there.

"If the surgeon's worried about his ribs, someone needs to stay awake and watch him," Miles responded, even as he nodded, having more than a little experience with those kinds of injuries. "Jeremy and I will trade off shifts sitting in there. If I know him, he's got something to read at his desk, if nothing else." The screen Bass usually traveled with to separate his "office" from his sleeping area should ensure she had some privacy

Miles' tone suggested there weren't any arguments allowed to that arrangement, either. "We'll be an extra level of security, as well."

Because Miles didn't precisely trust Bass's guards. He'd gotten past them, after all.

Charlie actually opened her mouth to object, then stopped because there was a screen in there. It peeved her to do it, visibly, but she gave in.

"You've been awake as long as I have," she argued, then looked at Jeremy. "You can stay, but you stay on your side of the screen. And the second you get tired, you go get Miles."

Giving orders like a tiny General Matheson; Bass would almost be proud, she was sure of it. Or irritated. Either way, she was going to get her way and she gave them both a smile that was more tired than even she realized. "Okay, give me about twenty minute to eat and then... you guys can rock-paper-scissors for it since I'm sure you're not going to listen to me."

As much as she thought they should.

She had a point about Miles and his lack of sleep, but he was used to it, even if he wasn't as young as he used to be. He had a few more hours in him, at least, needed to see Bass before he slept anyway. But he could at least get by on a little bit, and he could sleep tomorrow once Charlie was awake again to watch Bass.

"Yes, ma'am," he said dryly, casting a glance at Jeremy who nodded his agreement.

The tone wasn't appreciated and she gave him her own look as she turned to exit the tent. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what Bass would think about her showing up and throwing her weight around, as if she had any real pull. But while people were still listening to her, she was going to keep it up. So far, it seemed to be working.

Finding her own guard, she instructed him to get some sleep, that she'd be with the General and her uncle and/or Captain Baker for the rest of the evening so she was well taken care of. No one would thinking he was shirking his duty. It was with trepidation he let her go, but it was obvious that he was looking for some actual sleep. He didn't have Miles' stamina in that department. Nor the practice.

Back in Bass's tent, she finally took bites of the food she'd been given and, once that was done, she went to his desk to take a look at what he was working on. It'd be there that Miles would find her. She'd only been there five minutes when he walked in.

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?"

It wasn't easy to ignore Miles as he'd passed to the other side of the screen, but it gave her a chance to see that it was effective. And it gave her a chance to play at her "ignoring" skills, which she tried to do. She knew he was speaking to him, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. Not that it mattered, because she'd have known the moment Bass was awake. If he was going to wake up.

Not that she was going to let herself think like that.

Instead, she tried to make heads or tails of what was in front of her and when her uncle came closer to ask, she shook her head.

"I'm not really sure." She handed a piece of paper over. "But we have an army out there and if we can't move him, maybe we can do something for him. I know they're not happy about what happened and Jeremy's probably not happy about being sitting ducks, so." She looked up at Miles. "We should go after whoever did this. They can't be far."

Miles took the paper from her, surprise flickering across his face at her suggestion.

"You want to continue the fight?"

She'd been the one horrified by the militia and what they'd done through the Republic. Granted, the warlords of the Plains Nation were no better, and, in Miles' mind, nor were the rebels. Neither were Texas nor Georgia nor California, and, maybe Bass had gone too far, but Miles understood where Charlie was coming from, where Bass had been.

There was just a flicker of sadness that she'd gone from begging him to let bounty hunters go to this, frustrating as the former had been.

"It's probably a good idea, if they've got that kind of firepower. I mean, with what we've got..." With the power they had at their disposal, the only reason Bass hadn't wiped his enemies off the map was staying his hand to prove something to her. "It wouldn't be hard, to take them out."

AND THEN...

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