Work Text:
Lover
Miles sprawled on the ground, bones aching, catching his breath, while Charlie hovered protectively and Rachel grabbed his shoulder like she was thinking about pushing him into the burning wreckage of the helicopter. The part of him that was still (always) General Matheson of the milita leant against the bars of his cage and noted the rebels were better armed than they’d thought. Too well-armed not to have access to bunkers they shouldn’t.
There was a traitor in there, with Bass. Someone high even up to be able to open the stockpile and not be questioned...
And that wasn’t Miles problem anymore.
He took Charlie’s hand and let her haul him back to his feet. ‘Now that was underwhelming,’ he told her. She laughed and hugged him, chin poking right into a bruise. Miles could feel Rachel glaring, sense the silent threat of exposure. That was fine. If she didn’t think he’d kill to keep Charlie, she was wrong.
The grizzled...Major? Colonel? God, like he cared – Rebel scrambled down the wall of rubble. The side of his face was scorch-burned and he yelled when he talked. ‘We should go. He has others.’
Miles hung back, making sure that no-one lagged behind. When it was just him, he jogged over to what was left of the copter and kicked through the smouldering remains with a boot. The M was still hot to the touch when he picked it up, blistering his fingers. He cursed and stuck it his pocket.
Trust Bass to send a helicopter as a Dear Miles letter, he thought wryly as he headed after the rest. He always liked the big dramatic gestures.
Most of the rebels just accepted his story as gospel. He’d proven himself now, he was a rebel in all but tattoo. Nora had made a few hints about that, but he hadn’t let Bass brand him and neither could she. Only Charlie, who had inherited her Dad’s failsafe nose for Matheson bullshit, looked dubious.
He avoided her for a couple of days, taking over the unappealing watches and chores, playing the martyr, but eventually the stupidity of it caught up with him. It was to be her uncle that he’d given up everything, now he was avoiding her? He might as well have gone with Bass in that case.
Might as well, the caged General mused, still could. That was another reason to talk to her. The devil on his shoulder had killed the angel years ago, in the absence he needed an external check point on moral grey areas. So he took the watch after hers and got up 15 minutes early to bring her a hot drink and sit next to her.
They’d have done this – something like this, without the death and fear – if the Blackout hadn’t happened. He’d have taken her camping, made hot chocolate in a dented old pan and looked at the stars. Of course, they’d have been smoggier, and she’d probably have been wirelessly hooked into the cloud and ignoring him as her unbelievably uncool uncle.
It was that missing angel that made him think he liked this world better, where she thought he hung the stars.
‘You went face to face with Monroe again,’ Charlie said eventually.
‘Uh huh.’
‘You didn’t kill him.’
‘Nuh-huh.’
‘Are we just grunting now?’ Charlie asked. ‘Is this a thing?’
‘I couldn’t,’ Miles said. ‘If you’d been there – maybe – but I just...’
‘He’s your Danny,’ Charlie said, sounding wise and incredibly naive at the same time. Either that or he’d have to talk to Rachel about her kids Blue Lagooning it. ‘When he had Strausser threaten us? I, told Mom that she couldn’t help him, that some things are more important than family.’
He dropped his chin and stared at his tea, feeling his stomach twist. ‘I know you’re right, Charlie,’ he said. ‘I just...’
‘Please,’ Charlie said. ‘I was talking out my ass.’
He stared at her, and she mugged back at him, all huge eyes and ‘wha?’ expression. Then she sighed and leant against his shoulder. ‘I mean, it’s true. Some things are more important, I know that, but I told them to shoot me first.’
He stiffened at that and thought maybe, maybe one day he could just shot Bass. Charlie kept talking, voice thoughtful.
‘If they’d been going to shoot Danny, I would have told Mom to do whatever they wanted,’ she said. ‘Yet I expected them to watch me die. First, so I didn’t have to make a choice. It’s kinda like that with you and Bass? You know what’s right, but can’t quite...feel it?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Almost.’
‘Uh huh?’
‘That’s annoying,’ he told her.
‘I know.’
‘We were lovers,’ he said.
He’d never told anyone really. Not even Ben, although his brother might have known. It wasn’t even the right word. What word was there for the one person that you kept coming back to, that you knew would be there no matter what else, or who else, was in their life? That would be there no matter how foul or how broken you got. The one person you dragged down with you, and then left there?
‘Oh.’
‘That it?’
‘I guess, maybe he used to be nicer?’
Oh fuck. If he laughed he’d wake the whole damn camp. Miles snorted instead, shaking his head. ‘I guess, he was. You remind me off him sometimes.’
She wrinkled her nose at him for that, but it was true.
‘So, what’ll you do?’ she said. ‘Next time?’
He kissed her temple. ‘I couldn’t hate him, so I made him hate me,’ he said. ‘Next time, he’ll try and kill me. That’ll make it easier.’