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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.
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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"Now that you're awake, you're gonna eat. You're gonna get a bath. Tomorrow we work our way back to Philly - slow - but back. People need to know that you're okay. You can ride in the wagon, but we can't stay here." She's not going to go into specifics. "I'll go get someone to bring you food and send Miles in because I know he's worried, too."
Leaning over, she runs her fingers gingerly through his curls, then drops a kiss on his damp forehead. "I'll be back."
His hand gets another squeeze and then she steps out of the tent. There's a deep breath, a long sigh, and then she goes to find people to do what she needs. The doctor? He's told to go check on the general again. Two people are told to warm water so that the general can bathe. Dinner is ordered. She goes to find Miles to have him to talk to Bass.
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Miles watches her with a worried look, but nods and heads directly to the tent as soon as she tells him to, eager to get to Bass's side, ensure he's okay for himself.
Bass smiles in relief at seeing Miles really is okay, too, if a little bloodier than Bass has seen him in a while. "I hear you have a story to tell. What did you two do?"
Mile doesn't really want to tell him, but Bass knows how to wheedle and get him to do as Bass wants, and he finds himself telling the tale, even as the bath and water are brought in. He finishes it just in time to help Bass into the tub as the President seems unsteady on his feet.
"...Damn." Bass looks stunned, even as he sinks into the water with Miles' help. "That seems distinctly off brand."
"Yeah."
"You're not as impressed as I am." Bass sends him a shrewd look.
"Oh, I'm impressed. I just didn't think she'd follow in our footsteps quite so fast."
"She was motivated. We've both been there."
"Yeah."
Bass stopd pushing, mostly because the doctor comes in to check on Bass. He's seen the bruises that are making Miles wince at their extent and vibrant colors, so he just examines Bass's eyes, checks his other neurological symptoms, and, finally, decides if he was going to have a seizure or stroke, he probably would have in the multiple days of unconsciousness before, so he can be allowed to sleep without needing to be awakened every two hours--which would likely get someone shot and then he'd have to deal with that.
"You need more laudanum?"
"Yes. Definitely."
"I can leave..."
"NO," Miles interjected.
"It with General Matheson or his niece with dosage instructions," he finished with an inquiring look at Miles, who let out a breath and nodded.
Bass shoots Miles a look and rolls his eyes. "General Matheson knows the drill, Doc."
"All right, then get some sleep, sir, and I'll be in to check on you in the morning."
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While Miles is talking to and helping Bass, Charlie is taking care of herself and her guard. Making sure he's eating, getting sleep, then ordering a small bath for herself. She's filthy and she wants to make sure she's some semblance of clean before she goes back to see Bass in all his injured glory. She firmly intends on spending the night in that bed with him - only to sleep - and she doesn't want to be smelly to do it.
After she's fed and cleaner, she goes back toward the tent, catching a muttering doctor on his way out.
"What's going on?"
It's the first thing she says as she goes back in, fresh faced, hair braided down her back. If she's bothered by what's occurred, it doesn't show. Hell, she doesn't even look capable of what she's done when she looks like she does.
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"Doc was gonna leave my pain meds with me, as a fully functioning adult. Miles almost had a stroke and has taken away the pretty bottle of sweet relief," Bass informed her with a pout pulling at his lips.
"Only because I know you can't, in fact, be trusted with the sweet relief," Miles said repressively. "We don't have a cold shower to throw your ass in here if you chase the dragon too far, Bass."
Bass made a dismissive sound, waving a hand at Miles like he was ridiculous. His gaze ran over Charlie appreciatively, and he gave her a kind of sappy smile. She does look too innocemt to have done what Miles described, but he knows Miles. And Rachel. He's not deceived. "You're so pretty. Like my own angel..."
"She's not giving you the drugs, Bass."
Because Miles wasn't giving up that bottle.
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"No."
Simple, straightforward, and easy. She gives her uncle a soft look, full of thanks, and then nods toward the exit.
"I can take it from here. We're gonna sleep so go eat, take... a bath or whatever, and we'll get on the road early. I want us all back in Philly as soon as possible."
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"It's 2 droppers in water, no more often than once every 4 hours. Keep it out of his reach, because, I'm serious--I may trust him now with you, but I do not trust him with that. He can have more in 2 hours from now, if he wakes up in pain."
He hope she understands how serious it is, but he's got no idea if Maggie used it in treating people, or if she'd gathered how addictive it was in their little interlude with Drexel.
He moves to brush fingers through Bass's hair affectionately, once, giving him a smile. "Be good. Don't do anything to tear your stitches." Look, he knows Bass, and he's been apart from Charlie for a week.
Back to her. "Good night. Send for me if you need me. I'll come up with a safe way to travel with Jeremy tonight." She might've cowed Georgia for now, but he still doesn't trust any rebels along the way who see Bass weakened.
With a final tired smile, he leaves.
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"No." She sets the bottle down just far enough away that she'll hear him or feel him if he moves to get it. He'd be in enough pain getting it that she'd know. "If you really, really need it, you can have it but--" Charlie takes a breath as she sits down next to him and slides a hand into his, threading their fingers together.
Her voice softens. "You've always slept better with me here and that's what I'm hoping for."
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His fingers tighten against hers and he snuggles in closer.
"Sleep would be good. I fell asleep in the tub a time or two until Miles splashed me with water," Yes, now he's aggrieved again. "But I'd rather sleep snuggled up with you anyway."
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Despite being away from him for weeks, Charlie has no intention of letting either of them get carried away enough to let him tear his stitches. Instead, she curls up next to him on the side with less bruising and rests her head as carefully against his chest as she can. As long as she doesn't do a lot of moving - and he doesn't either - this should work for both of them for most of the night.
The lights have been dimmed to almost nothing and it's in that darkness that she finally vocalizes her fear and her new ultimatum.
"You scared the shit out of me." There's a breath and then, "You're never leaving me behind again. Ever."
If something happens, it can happen to the both of them.
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He had to have been for her to get here, to be here and...fuck.
"They've got some kind of rocket launcher, Charlie..." He didn't remember much, but Miles had told him what happened. "You shouldn't be here."
At the front. In his tent, with the target he was. "I never wanted to put you in danger..."
But, notsbly, his arm doesn't loosen to push her away. She can protest all she wants. His job puts him in danger, always. Her position in his life shouldn't (even if he knows it does. If people realized she was more than his plaything, found out how he felt about her, she'd be in even more danger, though. Thank Christ, no one believed he had a heart anymore.
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A girl with the same last name as his former right hand man, a man who'd been right there with her when the slaughter occurred.
It's too late to think about it now and Charlie presses a kiss to his skin. "It doesn't matter. I'm here now and tomorrow, we'll head back."
And in the morning, she'll start giving those orders, too. Whether or not Jeremy and Miles have prepared the rest of his army for her to do that or they're aware of what she's done and agree, she'll have to see then.
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For now, he smiles at the press of her lips to his skin and brushes one of his own over her hair.
"Miles says we're safe tonight, at least," and isn't it funny how he trusts that again? "Getting back to our own bed will be good..." He sighs a little. "Sleep well, love."
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