A/N What follows is my attempt to retool those last four episodes with four very specific goals in mind: 1. Repair the friendship between Miles & Bass, 2. Put the Nano story to rest without any opening for it to ever return, 3. Give Bass a chance to be the guy we know he can be (not the revived psycho version who reappeared a bit in 19 & 20 in particular) AND 4. A Charloe happy ending – because that's what I do. I can't help myself.

In my stories, I have a tendency to bring people back from the dead and toy with canon like she's my bitch. I did not do either here. The first thirty-eight televised episodes are canon for the purpose of this story. The last four eps (2x19 – 2x22) are where I go off book. The comics do not exist in this world at all. Regarding MCD – it's an even split, folks…I'm keeping alive some that the show killed, and killing some the show spared. If you've read my stuff before, you will know the trinity is safe. Everyone else? I guess you'll just have to read and find out on your own. By the way, I hope you do. -Lemon

Title from the Robert Frost poem "The Road Not Taken".

Prologue

Images of the chaos in Austin and Jason's death are swirling through Charlie's head as the wagon jerks and bumps along. She feels numb, doing her best to ignore the guys, who for some reason, won't shut up.

"We gotta shoot Tom Neville." Miles is trying to give her a pep talk. Charlie is dazed, but even so, she knows one thing for sure. Miles Matheson sucks at pep talks.

"You're reading my mail." Bass says. "He's gonna kill you, Charlie – when he finds out what happened."

She doesn't respond, but then she doesn't have to. She knows this for what it is: the truth.

Later, when Tom's gun is pointed at her temple, she will remember those words. She will remember and she will wish she'd been more careful.

But what is it that Miles always says about wishing? "Wish in one hand and shit in the other. See which one gets filled first." That's what Miles always says. Miles sucks at pep talks, but the pithy old sayings? Those are his specialty.

Charlie doesn't need pep talks or pithy old sayings to know one other thing.

Wishing doesn't mean shit.

Chapter One: Shit Happens

The air is crisp with an early autumn breeze but Charlie doesn't really notice as she walks along the narrow stream in search of Miles. She struggles not to scream and rage as thoughts ping around in her brain. In one moment she is remembering Jason falling to the floor in slow motion, a gaping hole in his chest. In the next, she is assailed by the horrifying thought that something could have happened to Miles.

If he…

If anything has happened to him…

If he's not…

Charlie shakes her head, trying to clear the dark thoughts that plague her mind. She looks around for any sign of where he's gone. She sees little. Maybe Monroe was right. Maybe Charlie does suck at tracking. She definitely sucks at finding Miles when he needs to be found. She sucked at finding a way to get out of that damned library without killing a guy she could have loved.

She didn't love Jason. She knows that, and she figures (in those moments when she can distance herself enough to think clearly) that the fact that she didn't love Jason, is all that's keeping her sane. No, she didn't love him, but she had cared for him. He was a friend. He deserved better than what he got in the end.

Hell, he deserved better than what he got, period. She thinks about Tom Neville and all the ways he had gone out of his way to make his only son feel unworthy.

Charlie has never felt so conflicted about anyone as she does about Tom Neville. On one hand, she hates him with all her heart. He was in charge of the militia soldiers who had killed her father, after all. He was the man who had taken Danny away from her.

Charlie hates Tom, but she is responsible for the death of his only son, and that is the truth which haunts her every waking hour. Even Tom doesn't deserve to lose someone that way. Nobody does. Shaking her head, she tries to concentrate on the search for Miles and on all the things he's taught her. She tries to get into a Miles mindset, hoping to piece together where he's gone and what trouble he has most likely gotten into.

She yells for him, but a pathetic echo is all she hears in response. No. That isn't all. Her ears perk up to the faintest of sounds from behind where she stands. Charlie whirls, weapon ready.

It's Tom Neville in the flesh and he has a gun trained on her. "Drop it, Ms. Matheson."

She freezes. Evidently Charlie also sucks at noticing when people are walking up behind her.

Tom's eyes flit about, frantic, searching. "I said drop it."

She drops it.

"Where is he? Tell me what happened to my boy?

Charlie just shakes her head.

"Speak up! What happened to him? Where is that idiot son of mine?"

"I don't know where he is." Charlie's mind swirls with dread. A handful of half assed escape plans pop into her head all at once but she discounts each one in a heartbeat. The memory of Monroe's voice echoes in her mind: "He's gonna kill you, Charlie."

Tom steps closer, his teeth bared. "You know where he is. I know you do. He's always chasing your tail."

Charlie falters. "Listen. Miles will be here any minute."

"Don't worry. We'll be long gone by then." He nods toward her, urging her to walk.

She has no other choice. She walks. "Where are we going?"

"Your camp, of course. I've been out here busting my ass for days, looking for it. Running into you out here is the first bit of luck I've had."

"And I'm going to take you there why?"

"Because that's where Jason is. I need to see him."

Charlie walks with her mind full of memories of Jason. The way he'd wrapped his hands around her throat, his eyes filled with mechanical rage. The way he'd jerked back as the bullet tore through him. The way he had felt in her arms as she cried over his body.

"Tell me something. Is your ass made of candy?"

Charlie is startled out of her reverie by Tom Neville's hate laced words. "What?"

"Is your ass made out of candy? No? Then why does my half wit son keep following you? Is it that sweet or is he that desperate?"

"Shouldn't' talk about him like that." Charlie shakes her head angrily, turning to glare at him.

"He's my son I'll talk about him how ever I like." Neville sounds like he's just barely hanging on.

"He's not stupid and he deserves better than you." She looks away. "He deserves better than me."

"You're right about that, Girlie. You are the worst thing that has ever happened to him. After I get him back, you stay away from him. Do you hear me?"

She doesn't answer. Instead she turns to lead him down the road once more. They get to the currently unused safe house and Charlie opens the door. She looks around. Nobody here. Part of her had hoped Miles would be sitting at the kitchen table, bitching about something. She misses him so much.

"What the hell is this place? Where is everyone?" Neville's gun is still trained on her, but his eyes are taking in every detail of the shabby old house.

Charlie tries to focus. She needs to concentrate on saving herself. She'll worry about Miles later. "They're probably out scouting. Jason's with them. They'll be back." She isn't sure if he believes her or not. She prays that he does.

He watches her for a moment, sizing up the situation. "My patience has reached an end, young lady. You are going to take me to Jason or you die. Now."

Charlie doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what to say. Flashes of memory assail her once more. Jason's last moments replaying over and over in her head.

Neville's brow furrows with concern and fear. "What was that? That expression on your face?" He falters, before narrowing his eyes at her. "Where is Jason?"

Charlie wants to be strong, but she is having a hard time staying calm. Tears are welling. "I - I don't know."

"You're lying." Neville moves closer. His hand shakes. "Why? Is he hurt?"

"No he's fine."

Neville sees something flicker across Charlie's face and he knows he was right. "He is hurt." Neville sucks in a breath. "Is he dead? No. That's not… NO!"

Charlie shakes her head, but he isn't buying it. "Was it Monroe? Was it Miles? Had to be Miles. He always had it out for the boy." Neville's eyes are wild. His words are coming fast and bits of spittle collect unnoticed at the corners of his mouth. "This is what will happen. You are bait. I'm going to use you to draw out Miles and Monroe and your bitch mother. I'm going to work my way through them until I figure this out…"

Charlie closes her eyes tight. "It was me."

For a moment, Tom is confused. "What? No. That can't be – No."

"It was me. IT WAS ME!" She's sobbing now, big fat tears pouring down her cheeks. Her breath is coming in ragged gasps. "I'm so sorry."

"Please, out of all the people who would want to do this to him, it wouldn't be you. You would never do this." Neville's chin shakes as his tears begin to fall.

Charlie knows he's going to kill her. She hears Monroe's voice in her head again. Even so, she has to state her case. She must try. She takes a deep breath. "I didn't think I could kill him either. The patriots did something to him. They must have read that number. They turned him into something he wasn't. He was trying to kill me. I begged him to stop. He wouldn't stop. I cared about him. I cared about him and that's what I did and I hate myself for it. If you're going to kill me, you should just do it. Do it now."

Tom Neville's voice is heavy with grief and fury. "You were dead as soon as you killed my son." He raises his gun, pointing it at her head and Charlie shuts her eyes tight.

She is sure her life is over as shots are fired into the crumbling plaster above her head. As each tiny chunk of the wall falls around her and into her hair, her mind's eye sees the bloom of fresh blood on Jason's shirt, appearing again and again with each deafening blast echoing in the small house.

She feels Tom step closer. This is it. The muzzle of his gun presses against her temple. She chokes back a sob as he pulls the trigger.

Click. Not the bang she'd expected. She is still upset but she knows that sound. He's run out of ammo.

She's almost ready to let out a sigh of relief when the small space echoes with another gunshot. This last shot sounds different. She opens her eyes, expecting Neville to be standing there, still pointing the gun at her. And he is.

This time though, the bloom of fresh blood is on Tom's shirt instead of Jason's and Charlie thinks that she's imagining all of it when he crumples at her feet, eyes wide and wet and lifeless. Charlie bites back a scream, and then her eyes fly up to the open door. Her savior stands there, his blue eyes blazing furiously at the dead man on the floor.

Bass Monroe slowly lowers his gun before meeting her gaze.

"Told you he would try to kill you, Charlie."

"I'm starting to think this is the best song ever written." The thing that wears Priscilla like a suit is still listening to the walkman Aaron had found in the attic of the house next door.

Aaron just shakes his head. Why couldn't it have been Depeche Mode or the Smiths? Duran Duran or WHAM! would even have been better than this. Hell, Aaron never thought he'd be wishing for "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go", but alas, that is what she's driven him to. Of all the bands in the entire world, why did the only cassette still in existence have to be Starship? Aaron shudders, watching Nano-Priscilla as she smiles and sways to the music, not that he would ever call THAT 'music'.

Aaron walks over to her and gets her attention. "Hey. You've had food and music and the whole being human tour. I've done all you've asked. Please get out of Priscilla's head and let her go. Please?"

"Not yet. We aren't ready to move on just yet."

"Move on to what?"

"Don't worry yourself about things that don't concern you, Aaron."

Aaron frowns. "Priscilla concerns me. I love her."

"And that is very sweet. Really. The thing is, we don't care."

"What do you want from us?" Aaron's voice has risen. He isn't sure he can take much more of this.

"I'm glad you asked. Next I'd like to see what pizza tastes like."

Charlie refuses to stay at the safe house or go back to camp. She helps Monroe drag Neville's body into the overgrown backyard and then they're back on the trail again, searching for Miles.

"Should we split up like before?" Charlie is feeling a little better, and she knows Monroe probably would rather look for Miles on his own.

"No. Not going to leave you now."

"Why? Nobody else wants me dead."

"Are you sure? I figure there are a lot of people who want all of us dead. If we split up now, I'd just worry that you were getting your stupid ass killed."

"So, NOW you're worried about my well-being? Before, when there was a specific threat against me – when we knew Neville would be out for my blood - you sent me on my way without a second thought. The only thing you had to say was that I suck at tracking."

"You don't suck at tracking." He mutters, not bothering to look her way as he walks.

"Then why did you say that earlier?" She frowns. "Why have you been such a bastard to me since we left Austin?" She walks faster to keep up. "No. It was before that even. You've been a jerk ever since New Vegas."

"Yeah, right. Well, don't forget I'm the bastard jerk who just saved your life. Again. Would it kill you to say thank you?"

"Thank you for helping with Neville. I do appreciate that, but it's the first time you've done anything other than be an asshole to me in weeks. I know we aren't friends or whatever, but I thought we'd come to some sort of agreement."

He stops and turns to face her. "Oh? What agreement is that?"

She almost answers, but points behind him instead when she sees something ahead. "I think I see a body over there." In fact, there are several – all in uniform.

Monroe surveys the ground and takes a look at each of the dead bodies. "Looks like Miles got pinned down over there. Took out six of them. Some were double taps. Which means he probably emptied his clip. There were seven rangers when we first spotted them, so there's one left…"

Charlie can sense that Monroe is becoming tenser with each step he takes. They haven't gone far when he turns and heads in a new direction without saying a word. She breaks the silence between them. "Why are we going this way?"

"High ground ahead. Most strategic position. That's where Miles will be. We gotta find him before that last ranger does. Let's go."

"We're walking in circles."

"We're looking for god damned clues, Charlotte. They aren't always lined up in neat fucking rows. You should know how this works. Just shut up and follow me."

Charlie grits her teeth, seething in silence.

They move over the terrain, looking behind trees and inside buildings. They search inside an old rusty truck and inside an overgrown culvert. The tension builds with every dead end. They both feel it – the growing dread that too much time has passed with no sign of Miles.

Monroe shakes his head, and turns. He's walking back toward the way they had come from when Charlie loses her patience. "I thought you said he'd gone that way? High ground and all that?"

"Clearly I was wrong," he growls. "He went this way. I'm sure."

"Why are you so sure? Because you are such a fantastic tracker yourself? Or is it because you think you know Miles better than the rest of us?"

"Well, I DO know Miles better than the rest of you. We were friends for two decades before you were born."

"I think he's changed. Not sure you know him as well as you think you do. Not sure you ever did."

"Where the hell do you get off judging my friendship with Miles? You've known him for five minutes. You know nothing. You are a reckless child with a death wish."

"What are you talking about?"

Bass points in the general direction of the safe house. "Tom Neville was standing there in your face and you dared him to shoot you. You all but gave him permission! What the fuck were you thinking?" Bass's voice rises with each furious word.

"I was feeling guilty. You probably have no idea what that's even like, but I do. I felt guilty and I had a weak moment. Shit! Why are you on my back about this? Kind of having a bad week, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah. I'm sorry you had to kill your old boyfriend or whatever. I'm sure you'll find another one soon enough."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You make stupid choices when it comes to men." He's facing her now, his jaw tight. "That's what I mean."

"God, you're a dick. I'm not stupid. You think you know me, Monroe? You're wrong. I am not a child. I don't have a death wish. I felt guilty with Tom. That's all. It was a momentary thing, but you know what? It doesn't matter. None of that matters. You don't know me, but I know you. You are an insecure asshole on a power trip. Oh, and your obsession with Miles? It is pathetic. I bet when you need to get off, it's his face you see. Isn't it?"

He steps closer, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "If I'm so damned pathetic, what about that night in New Vegas?"

"You mean when I screwed your kid? Jesus, Monroe. How does that have anything to do with you?"

"It had everything to do with me."

"How is that exactly?"

"Because it should have been me, Charlie! It should have been me, and you know it!" Monroe yells.

"What?" Charlie feels as if the earth is shifting under her feet. He's getting dangerously close to territory she's been doing her best to avoid for months.

"Don't even pretend you didn't feel it. Something had been building between us and when I finished talking to Duncan that night – well, she said some things…"

"Like what?" Charlie's surprised at how breathy her voice sounds, and how fast her heart is suddenly racing.

"She pointed out that you didn't deny it."

"Didn't deny what?"

"A couple times she implied that you and I were together. You didn't say anything."

"Neither did you."

"Exactly." He exhales slowly. "That's what she said, and that's when I realized I'd wasted a lot of time. I was going back to talk to you. To tell you – "

Charlie watches as Monroe's lips tighten in anger. She knows what he's thinking, what he's remembering.

"Tell me what?" she knows she sounds breathless, but she can't control it.

"I think you know." His eyes are hot embers burning into her soul.

"No. I don't." She falters. This can't be happening. "What are you saying?" She remembers all those times he'd innocently brushed against her….all those times their eyes had held a gaze far too long… all those times she had dreamt of him, naked and hard. She remembers sleeping with Connor because she was sure Monroe was screwing Duncan…

He erases the space between them. He's now so close; she can feel his hot breath on her face. "What I'm saying is that when I need to get off, Miles is not the Matheson whose face I see."

He grabs her then, pulling her flush with his body and slamming his mouth down on hers. He kisses her with an urgency that is brutal. His hands hold her in an iron grip, one hand fisting the back of her hair. She pushes against his chest, trying to get away, but he won't be budged. He licks roughly across her lips and she gasps. He moves in, delving deeply into the recesses of her mouth. He tastes her and sucks at her tongue.

She's trying to push him away at first. It's hopeless and she stops fighting. His hand roughly grasps her ass and he moans into her mouth. Finally she pushes again and this time she catches him off guard. He stumbles, and his hold on her loosens. She falls on her ass, and stares up at him. Her eyes are wide and her breathing is ragged.

Their gaze locks and Charlie feels a stirring in her core. All those feelings bottled away for months, now roaring to the surface. She stands on shaky feet and points at him. "You stay away from me."

He licks his lips, watching her intently. "For now, Charlotte. I'll stay away for now."

She grabs her pack which had fallen to the ground when she did. She stomps off, ignoring his comment. He follows. The search for Miles is back on.

They walk in silence for a while before they find anything. They have both calmed down. Things between them feel almost normal. But then she sees something. "Is that his…?" Charlie's voice falters as she falls to her knees by a pile of bloody fabric.

"Miles's coat." Monroe nods, looking her in the eye.

"There's blood. A lot of blood. Too much."

"Maybe it's not his blood," Monroe suggests, but they both know the truth.

She picks it up. "It's on the inside. It's too much blood." Fear grips her heart.

"Hey Charlie. You know Miles. He's tough. I've seen him take a lot worse than this. Kick him in the teeth he jumps straight back up and kicks back twice as hard. That son of a bitch is too stubborn to die. He'll come back. We're going to find him."

They search until sundown. They don't find Miles or any more traces of where he might be. They don't talk about their fear for his safety. They don't talk about Tom Neville.

They don't talk about the fact that Monroe had kissed Charlie.

And they definitely don't talk about the fact that just before she'd pushed Monroe away, Charlie had started to kiss him back.

Aaron walks up the stairs of the old farm house where he's been staying with Priscilla. He has a heavy heart and stooped shoulders. He's been at the camp, helping dish out food for the searchers. Watching Charlie go through this is killing him. He wants to help in the search for Miles but doesn't feel he can leave Nano-Priscilla alone for very long.

A thought occurs to him. Maybe there's another way he can help. As the idea takes root, he feels the first blush of hope. Maybe.

He walks into the living room. She's sitting cross-legged on the dusty sofa, still listening to that damned cassette tape.

"Hey."

She looks up, removing the headphones as if doing so is a serious interruption. "Yes?"

"Miles is missing. Can you find him?"

She nods. "Yes."

Relief floods into Aaron's heart. Finally the Nano will be good for something other than turning off the lights and setting people on fire. "Oh good! Good. So, where is he?"

She frowns distastefully. "Honestly I'm not sure he's worth saving."

Shock replaces hope in a heartbeat. "What the hell does that mean?"

"He's not a good man, Aaron. We appeared to him once about six months ago."

"You did what?"

"We probed into his mind and played his own thoughts back at him. A lot like this thing." She holds up the damned walkman, before continuing. "Miles has some dark notions."

"Why would you do that? Why would you appear to Miles?"

"It was an experiment."

"But I thought you only appeared to – "

"We have appeared to 3,289 people so far. We've conducted a lot of experiments. We're very curious."

"Curious about what, exactly."

"Being human of course. We're very excited to learn all we can before…" Nano-Priscilla trails off, a strange smile on her face. Slowly she puts the headphones back on.

"Before what?" Aaron asks, terror licking at his heart.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she closes her eyes and sings along with that dreadful fucking song.

Two days. Charlie hears those words like a mantra that bounces around in her head. Two days. Miles has been missing for two days. Missing and injured. Bleeding. He might be hungry. He might be cold.

He might be dead.

She shakes her head harshly. No. Miles is alive. She knows he is – feels it in her gut. She's packing a few things for another day of searching. Sunrise is minutes away and she wants to be ready. She knows Bass is waiting for her.

Yesterday morning she'd called him Bass by mistake. Nobody had noticed. Nobody but him. His eyes had burnt into hers and she had sworn if there weren't so many people around, he'd have ripped her clothes off right there.

Surprisingly, this thought was not unappealing.

They still haven't talked about the kiss in the woods. He hasn't touched her again. But things are different now. Charlie finds herself seeking him out. And he seems to be doing the same thing. Last night, they'd eaten under the moonlight. Everyone else had turned in long ago. They didn't speak, but he sat beside her – so close she could have reached out and touched him.

She didn't, but if she's perfectly honest, there was a part of her that had wanted to. Before he'd left her to turn in, he'd leaned down so that his lips ghosted against her ear. "We're going to find Miles. Then we're going to talk."

Charlie hadn't known what to say. She only nodded, staring into the fire.

Those moments from the night before are replaying in her mind when Connor saunters up. "So, you're going back out to search?" He is skeptical of the search in general and hasn't been quiet on the subject.

"I have to." Charlie shrugs as if this answer is obvious.

"But why? There's no way he's –"

"Don't say it. We're going to find him. Just wait and see."

"You know that if he's not back by now, he's gone. All you're gonna find is a corpse."

She shakes her head. "No. You're wrong."

"Oh? Why is that? What made you Miss Optimistic?"

She pulls her hair away from her forehead to show him the ugly circular bruise on her forehead. "You see this? Neville had a gun to my head. He was going to kill me. No going back. Every single part of me was screaming that I didn't want to die but it was too late. He pulled the trigger, but his gun was empty, and then Bass… And then your Dad was there. Whatever. I don't think I deserve it, but I'm getting a second chance. I get to wake up tomorrow and now I guess I want to. But what kind of tomorrow do I want? I don't know, but Miles needs to be in it."

Connor scoffs. "Miles? You sure you don't mean my Dad?"

"What are you saying?" She isn't able to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I think you know." Then he turns and walks away, not waiting for a reply.

Miles has had worse days, hasn't he? Honestly he can't remember. Maybe not. His brain is fuzzy with exhaustion, dehydration and pain. There is a lot of pain. He supposes that this probably is the worst day he's ever had. He's not getting out of this stupid basement alive, after all. He's come to terms with that. There's just no way. He's tried everything.

He leans back against the wall, sagging limply. He lets his eyes wander over the shadowy room one last time. He pauses on that stupid 'hang in there' kitty poster. If he had the strength right now, he'd rip that stupid thing to shreds. Then he glances at the corner where shelves are lined with useless crap and moldy books. That's when he sees it. Or is he imagining things? How had he missed it before? Miles squints. Nope. He's not imagining things. Not this time.

On one side of an old bookcase is a faded and dusty sticker. On that sticker is the insignia for the United States Marine Corp. That's all it takes. In the time it takes him to recognize that emblem for what it is, he is sucked back in time, lost in old memories.

"Thought you were going to college, Bass? Won't your Mom be pissed if you lose that scholarship?"

Bass shrugs. "She's already pissed at me for that drunk and disorderly arrest after Emma's birthday party. What's one more thing?"

Miles laughs. "Pretty sure your decision to enlist rather than enroll is going to rank a lot higher on the 'pisses Gail off' meter than that stunt did, but whatever."

"Yeah, but why would I go to college without you? How much fun would it even be if I went by myself? I wouldn't know what do."

"Sure. You'd be there five minutes before the girls started lining up."

"Well, probably, but without you there I wouldn't have anyone to share them with. I'd get worn out. Wouldn't be able to keep up with my homework. I'd flunk out all because you weren't there to take some of the hotties off my hands."

"You know where we're headed, there won't be any hotties?"

Bass shrugs. "I'll just have to make up for lost time when we go on leave."

"Yeah. That sounds like a plan."

Miles smiles at the memory in spite of the pain in his gut and the fog in his head. He and Bass had been inseparable ever since second grade. Bass had been new in town. He was short and skinny, but even at seven years old, he was cocky as hell and most of the kids gave him the space he demanded.

Miles was tall for his age but when a sixth grader named Ricky Kennedy started to terrorize him, it was Bass who had stepped in. Bass hadn't given a damn, even then, about the size of his opponent. He'd been like a scrawny little psycho demon as he kicked the shit out of the much larger Ricky. Later, Miles had asked Bass why he'd bothered.

"You looked like you could use a friend. Figured I can use one too."

And that was that. They'd been a team from that moment on. Even in the worst of times, they'd been there for each other. When Bass had got word that his family was dead, Miles had pulled him back from the brink. When Miles fell in love with his brother's fiancé, it was Bass who had taken him out for drinks and convinced him things would be okay. When Bass's girlfriend had died in childbirth after the blackout, Miles hadn't been sure he'd be able to pick up all the pieces, and he'd been right. Bass hadn't ever been the same after that. Not totally.

Miles frowns, remembering the beginning of the campaign that would serve as foundation for the Militia and later, the Republic. Miles didn't want to run things, so he had asked Bass to be the face of it all. Bass had agreed without argument. Miles had known then that he'd have to watch his old friend closely. Bass had balanced on the edge for so long after losing Shelly; he was always terrifyingly close to falling into the abyss.

And so what had Miles done? When Monroe had killed that Patriot family after the attack, Miles had decided it was the final straw. The truth – the real truth - was that Bass really had thought he was doing the right thing. To Bass, this action was a lot like kicking Ricky Kennedy's ass in second grade. He was doing what he could to protect a friend. Miles knew it even then, but he'd been so appalled at what had happened, he hadn't taken the time to talk it through with Bass. Instead , he'd turned and left.

Miles closes his eyes, overcome with regret. What if he'd stayed? What if he'd confronted Bass and told him he was out of line? What if he'd asked Bass to take a vacation or maybe to delegate some of his hectic workload? Maybe any one of those things could have made the difference.

What if it was all Miles's fault that Bass went as far off course as he did?

He knows that Bass is better now. In fact, the hard life they lead seems to suit his old friend far better than that cushy suite at Independence Hall ever had done. He's seen the way Bass is with Charlie and Aaron and the others. His relationship with Connor is concerning at times but Miles sees it for what it is. Bass is doing whatever he can to keep Connor in his life, even if it means making promises about an Empire he'll never build again – with or without his son.

Miles focuses on the Marine Corp sticker once more. Right below that sticker is another. It is simple black text on a white background. It says in bold block letters, 'Bros Before Hoes'. Miles feels a sliver of mania swirling up from his aching gut and he barks out in laughter. "Perfect. Just perfect."

Miles is fading fast and he knows it. He remembers the vision he had the night the shed burnt. He remembers Ben blaming him for everything and telling him to steer clear of Rachel and Charlie or else they'd end up dead.

Miles regrets what he did to Ben almost more than what he'd done to Bass. He'll never regret Charlie, assuming he is her dad which he's always suspected. Rachel though – she's a different story altogether. Rachel, he regrets. She had held an unnatural and unhealthy pull for Miles from the beginning. Even to this day, he can't explain it.

He should have said no when she tried to rekindle something between them. He should have run hard and fast in the opposite direction. Part of him will always love Rachel, but he knows down deep that his relationship with her has never been worth the trouble it's caused.

In his defense, he'd tried to leave. Right after he watched that shed burn, filled with visions of his worst mistakes and deepest fears; he'd made the decision to move on. He'd meant to leave Willoughby that very night. He'd tried damnit. But then that whole mess with the Andover clan had erupted and Bass came back and Aaron started setting people on fire with his mind and the world went sideways.

Having Bass back had been a lot harder than Miles might have ever expected. He'd tried to ignore this man from his past, tried to avoid him, but it just didn't work. The Bass who had shown up in Willoughby had been a lot more like the Bass from long ago than the crazy version he'd left behind in Philly, and Miles really liked that version of his oldest friend. Well, except for shooting John Frye in the goddamned back. That was just plain nuts, and if he'd been like that all the time, Miles might have found it easier to walk away. But when they fought side by side or talked in shorthand of a lifelong friendship, all of Miles's convictions to leave his old friend behind became shaky at best.

Miles's cheeks are streaked with tears as he thinks back on his life and his family and his friends. No. Not friends. Just the one. Letting his friendship with Bass crumble is his life's biggest regret. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He can't stop saying the words over and over. He searches the floor around him, looking for something to use to write those same words on the wall. His fingers curl around something sharp. He picks it up and looks at it in his palm. The shard of ceramic in his hand was once part of a coffee mug. Even after all these years, the emerald green glaze on the ceramic is bold. He turns it over in his fingers, seeing the letter on the opposite side of the shard.

It's the letter M.

Miles stares at the familiar letter, once half of the famous M&M candy logo. He looks around and finds another broken piece – this one shows the other M. With shaky fingers, he holds the two pieces together. And just like that - Miles is once again lost in memory.

"Out with it, Bass." Miles is laughing. Tomorrow they will ship out and tonight is going to be all about banging hot chicks and getting seriously plastered. "What did you want to show me?"

Bass grins that dopey grin that reminds Miles of tree houses and bicycle races. "This." Bass says as he rolls up a sleeve, showing off a brand new tattoo. "You remember? Just like when we were kids."

Miles smirks. "Yeah, I remember. Then he pulls up the sleeve of his own tee shirt, showing the same tattoo, freshly inked on his bicep – except his says 'Matheson' instead of 'Monroe' across the bottom. "Great minds and all that?"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Bass is slapping Miles on the back, laughing.

Miles shakes his head, but he too, is smiling. "Shit. We're like little girls who wear the same dresses to school. We're freaks."

"Nah." Bass's eyes are a little wet. "Not freaks, Miles. Brothers."

Miles grips the shards of broken ceramic. Fresh blood oozes from his fist and his brow furrows. "No. I'm not leaving. Not leaving my brother again."

Charlie is exhausted. She and Bass are back from another search. They're going to eat a quick lunch and then they're heading back out. Charlie walks toward the fire where Aaron is stirring a pot of stew. He is clearly just as beat down by all this as she is.

"Hey Aaron. You doing okay?"

He shrugs. "I don't know anymore, Charlie. The world is getting crazier and considering the world we already lived in – well, that's saying something."

Charlie hugs him. "Hang in there. We're gonna get through this."

Aaron hands Charlie an earthenware bowl full of stew. "Good luck with the hunt. I hope you find him today."

"Yeah. Me too." Charlie takes the stew and walks over to a low bench where she sits down to eat. Monroe gets a bowl of stew and sits next to her on the bench.

They don't speak, but as the bowls empty, Bass's thigh falls gently against her own. It is nothing and it is everything. They still haven't talked yet – not about anything other than the search, but this is his way of saying he's here for her.

She ever so lightly presses her leg back against his. They don't speak. Their eyes don't meet. But they are touching purposefully in a way that somehow manages to be both innocent and intimate at the same time.

Charlie stands slowly when her meal is done, missing the pressure of his leg as soon as it's gone. She doesn't look back. He doesn't look up.

Only one person even notices the interaction between Bass and Charlie. From her vantage point on the other side of the camp, Rachel's lips twitch in distaste.

Aaron has had it. He's been watching Nano-Priscilla for an hour. She's reading a tattered Harlequin romance novel and wearing a stupid grin. It sends shivers down his spine, but he brushes aside the fear. It's time to tell this Nano version of his wife exactly what he thinks. "Listen, if you really want pizza, I will make you pizza. I will find some tomatoes and mill some flour and I will milk a cow to make some damn cheese."

She looks up from the book, watching him curiously. She doesn't speak.

He throws his arms up. "Whatever you want. Just find Miles. Please?"

Her lips tighten. "How many times have we been over this? I said no."

Aaron walks closer to her. He takes the book from her hands. "I got news for you. Being human isn't paperback novels and sucky eighties music. It isn't food or sex. It's about loyalty and being there for a friend who has been there for you. And that's what it is. That's what it means. Miles is important to me. He has been there for me and for Charlie. Please help us find him."

She shakes her head no, clearly annoyed.

Aaron's voice rises, echoing in the stillness of the old house. "I'm still the one who made you, and if that means anything to you – anything at all, you owe me."

Priscilla stands and takes the book from Aaron before sitting back down. Her face is calm once more. "We don't owe you. We don't owe you anything. Yes, you had a part in our creation and we'll always love you, but you didn't make us. She did. And Miles has taken enough of her time from us already."

Aaron is confused. "What? Whose time? Who are you talking about?"

"Rachel, the woman who made us what we are. She is like…our mother. Everything is almost ready, you see. She will do what mothers do best. When the time is right, she will nurture us and help us progress to the next level of our existence."

Aaron's eyebrows shoot high. "First of all, you are talking about Rachel Matheson, right? She's my friend, but let's be honest. Maternal isn't really her most prominent personality trait. Like, at all."

Nano-Priscilla's eyes go black with hate. "Don't speak of her that way. We will defend her just as we defend ourselves."

"Whatever, I'll warn her. I'll tell her what you are truly capable of."

She smiles then. It is not a good smile. "Do that and we'll kill Priscilla. For now, though – bring me that pizza."

On the third day since he'd gone missing, Rachel finds Miles. It is an accident really as she wasn't even part of the search party just then. Instead, she is out for a walk, hoping to clear her head. She's been under a lot of stress. She feels strangely abandoned by Miles, confused by Aaron, more than a little creeped out by Priscilla, sick and tired of Duncan Page's men, and most of all she is worried that something romantic is evolving between her daughter and Monroe.

She almost passes the hand because she just isn't looking. But something in her peripheral vision alerts her to the weak movement on the ground. She grasps his hand and helps pull him up from the tall Texas grass, very glad to see that him again.

He is dehydrated and starving. His torso is caked in blood and he has a fever. He's in bad shape, but he's alive.

"He's alive!" She screams. "Help! He's alive."

As people come running, she smiles down at him, gently stroking his cheek.

Miles looks at Rachel. He does not return her smile. "Bass?" he croaks out. "Need to talk to Bass."

A/N A very special thank you to WildIrish for her beta skills and IceonFire7 for giving this chapter a preview. Also a big thank you to Loveforthestory who has kept bugging me about this story ever since I first mentioned my plan for it several months ago. That encouragement made all the difference. Thank you.

There will be three more chapters, and my goal is to publish one each week till its done. Leave a comment if you'd be so kind.