Hi, everyone! This is my first SebastianXCharlie story, as well as my first fanfic in the Revolution fandom! And before anyone comments, SEBASTIAN AND CHARLIE ARE NOT RELATED. I actually had to look that up myself because for so long I assumed Miles and Bass were brothers, but they are just best friends, nothing more. Therefore, Chass (my ship-name for them) is possible, and no incest is necessary! Hallelujah! Now, as of right now I'm thinking this fic will be a five-chapter short story, but who knows – if I receive many positive reviews and if I have more ideas then I might continue with it. We'll see! Happy reading and lemme know what you think! xo

~Chapter One: Stranded~

CHARLIE

My head aches insufferably. I can hear my heartbeat hammering at my ears like the monotonous beat of several massive, unseen drums. A headache rages against my temples, pulsing behind my eyes. It hurts, it agonizes, but I've survived worse. My throat's as dry as an empty riverbed and my muscles tremble, shaking with exhaustion. All of these signs combined make me hyper-aware of the fact that the state of my body is less than ideal, and that's so not good. In this new world, being fit and healthy means surviving, and if my body is suffering….well, than so will I, sooner or later.

Cautiously opening my leaden eyes, I flick a glance around at my immediate surroundings; trees. Lots of trees and plants and drooping foliage. And there's a smell in the air, one of smoke and…wet. It must be raining. At least I can breathe easier because of that. Aside from the smoky scent, however, everything smells new and clean. I take a moment to just lie there, basking in that feeling. It's been so long since anything seemed even remotely clean. Lately my life has consisted of ash and dirt and blood and death. Rain is something I enjoy. One of the only things, really. Inhaling one last time, I tense my sore muscles and pull myself into a seating position. It's a struggle, but I manage.

Although once I successfully right myself, I kinda wish I hadn't.

There's a man sitting on the opposite side of the campfire, directly across from me. The majority of his features are in shadow, but there's one defining factor that stands out. I know almost instantly who it is, and my stomach drops so fast that I have to tighten my throat to keep the bile from rising out of me. Flaming disgust and another unidentifiable emotion battle for control within me. Before the man even shifts my way, I know which one will win. His eyes shine an alarmingly vivid blue against the dark night sky.

"You're awake," Monroe states in his usual gruff voice.

Indeed, I am. But I don't really know how to answer him, not yet. I haven't quite gathered all my wits. His direct stare is making me feel funny, and my stomach still feels uncomfortably nauseated. Besides, one thought takes up the majority of my focus – Will he kill me? I'm truly not sure. After all, we've obviously been settled down for some time and he hasn't actually done anything to me while I've been out.

Wary, I shift slightly to the left, and his gaze lazily tracks my movement. "Where are we?" I ask, my voice low and hoarse. I barely refrain from hacking.

"Somewhere in the Plains Nations," he says idly, as if this doesn't necessarily bother him, the fact that we are more-or-less directionless. He pokes a stick into the fire to rekindle it.

I suppress a groan as I struggle to remain upright. My back aches so freakin' bad, and my legs aren't doing much better by comparison. "How long was I out?"

"About a day."

My jaw tightens. His brief, uninformative responses are already pushing my buttons and I've been awake how long? Three minutes?!

Wobbling to my knees, I keep inhaling and exhaling, keeping my breathing steady. I have to recuperate as quickly as possible if I'm going to escape. And that's obviously what I have to do here. Monroe is bad news, and it's only a matter of time until he attacks me in some sadistic way. So okay, maybe he did keep watch over me while I was conked out, but that hardly matters when faced with the fact that he's responsible for killing hundreds of people and encompassing the essence of a true monster.

"Woah, woah, steady there," Monroe says suddenly, reaching out a hand. I instantly jerk away from the contact, wincing at the thought of his hand touching my skin…or any part of me, for that matter. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I have to get out of here, what do you think?" I spit, managing to get one foot under me before I collapse back to the ground, still dizzy. My head feels weird, airy.

"I think you should take it easy," he says mildly, watching as I take another moment to catch my breath. "You can't go running off just yet. You've at least got to let the drugs wear off before you attempt anything."

My face sets into a hard mask. "Why are you here?"

He stares at me humorlessly. "Well, where else should I be, Charlie?" My name on his lips makes me blink once with surprise. "Honestly, what else could I possibly be doing right now? It's not as if I'm a wanted man."

I don't like his sarcasm one bit. It's rubbing me the wrong way. Gritting my teeth, I say, "Well, I'm not a wanted man, and I have no reason to be here…with you, of all people. I'm leaving."

He stares into the fire for a few seconds, his blue eyes illuminated by the flickering flames, before shrugging carelessly. This makes me even more furious. Huffing, I drag myself to my knees and eventually to my feet, checking off-handedly that I still possess my belt equipped with my knives. I must've dropped my crossbow back on the road, but I'll have to do without that for a little while longer. The main focus on my ever-lengthening agenda right now is getting as far away as possible from Sebastian Monroe, even if that means I have to wander around virtually weaponless.

Monroe doesn't say anything else; in fact, he isn't looking at me or even in my general direction. So I wobble forward a few steps, pausing a moment to gather my bearings, and continue towards the main road. I leave the camp and Monroe behind, struggling to keep my eyes ahead. I'm actually way more tired that I originally assumed, and all my eyes want to do is rest. Still, I soldier on, resisting all weakness. Turning left, I wander down a barren, moonlit road, empty except for several abandoned wagons left along the tree line. My bones ache, and I'm exhausted down to my very core, but I can't let that stop me. Several small animals rustle within a small patch of bushes to my left, but I pay them no mind. Onward! I think, half-deliriously. Must…travel…onward!

Three hundred yards from the hastily constructed campsite, my legs give out, and I hit the ground hard, my chin scraping along the worn cement road. I lie there, arms splayed, breathing labored, knowing that this little excursion has cost me more energy than I have to spare.

But that's all right, I think sluggishly. As long as Monroe can't catch me…