Chapter Text
“It was pretty brilliant,” Bass continued. “I mean, King spent the whole book building up this terrifying villain, only to have a character finally meet him and fall over laughing at how silly they’ve all been for putting a simple man on such a pedestal. It’s a fascinating commentary on how much power oppressors actually have, versus how much they want you to think they have.”
Charlie loved this version of Bass. In another life, he and Aaron might have nerded out over sci-fi together. In this life, Charlie was happy to listen to Bass rant about how brilliant “The Stand” was.
“A powerful monster that turns out to be a regular man?” Charlie mused. “Hmm, I wonder why that feels familiar…”
“Okay, smartass.” Bass gently tossed the book back to Charlie. “I guess we’re done with the fun stuff. Time to figure out if this city needs more funds allocated to defense or infrastructure this summer.”
“Hey, hold on.”
Charlie stood up from her seat and walked over to Bass. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and leaned into him. For a moment, she just relished the feeling.
“I liked the book,” she murmured into his neck. “And I liked hearing your analysis. I just like to tease you a little, too.”
She felt the vibration in his throat as he hummed contentedly.
“Mmm, I know, Charlotte.”
Bass kissed the top of her head and pulled back, gently detangling himself from Charlie’s embrace.
“Unfortunately, there’s still work to do. But lucky for me, you’re way better at this financial shit than I am.”
Charlie laughed.
“How did you ever manage the Republic before I came along?” she teased, following him around to his desk. Charlie had been spending so much time working with Bass that he’d just had an extra leather chair wheeled in for her.
“I’m not entirely sure I managed,” he said as they sat. “I know I’m better with you at my side.”
Charlie flushed. She was never quite prepared for the overt devotion. She was still getting used to the mind bending realization that she and General Sebastian Monroe, of all people, were being sweet and romantic with each other.
Then again, they’d become close. As frustrating and complicated as it was to analyze their relationship, Charlie couldn’t deny that she cared for Bass. Deeply, so much that it scared her. Charlie was terrified that she was past the point of no return, that she’d fallen so hard that it would break her when he eventually left her.
He dropped those remarks so casually into conversation: I need you, I’m better with you here, you’re everything to me. It was like they weren’t confessions, but facts of life.
It had been such a long time since anyone had spoken to her like that. Jason could be a smooth talker, but Charlie was never able to truly believe the things he said after all the lies. The people who’d said those things and meant it—her dad, Maggie, Danny—they were all dead.
For awhile she’d thought that Miles at least felt that way, even if he struggled to say it. He’d almost become a surrogate father figure to her after the loss of her own. But now she doubted that relationship, too.
“Charlie?”
She glanced up. Bass had pushed the paperwork aside to focus on Charlie, concern creasing his brow. She sighed.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was getting a little maudlin in my head for a minute. I’m back.”
Bass reached out and took her hand, caressing it idly with his thumb.
“Talk to me,” he requested.
Charlie chewed her bottom lip anxiously. Openly discussing difficult emotions was not exactly a trait Mathesons came by naturally.
“It’s just…” Charlie looked away; she had a hard time maintaining eye contact and being emotionally vulnerable simultaneously. “When you said I make you better, or however you said it. I’ve lost everyone who felt that way. Everybody leaves me eventually—“
Charlie svallowed hard, blinking back tears.
“When are you going to decide you’re done with me, too? What happens then?”
“Oh, God, Charlie.”
Bass leaned in close and cupped Charlie’s face in his hands. She looked up to see her own pain mirrored in his expression.
“Never,” he swore. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere. As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”
Charlie felt like her heart was tumbling through the air, free falling.
“Really? You’re not just saying that because I’m crying, right?”
“No, baby.” Bass kissed her. “If anything, I’ve been worrying the same about you.”
Charlie laughed lightly.
“Me? It’s not like I could go anywhere even if I wanted to.”
She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. Bass looked like he’d been struck. The old fear and paranoia that had been fading away lately crept back into his eyes.
“Excuse me?” His voice was low and hoarse. “Is that all this is to you? After everything, I’m just the jerk you’re fucking to get a nicer prison cell?”
“What? No—“
“You’re just like the rest of them. You thought you could con your way into my heart? Well, you didn't. You’re nothing to me, just like I’m nothing to you!”
“That’s not true! Bass, I—I love you!”
Charlie had never admitted that, even to herself. It came out as a desperate plea to get Bass to take back what he’d just said, but his eyes only grew harder.
“Get out.”
Charlie’s breath caught in her chest.
“Bass, I didn’t mean it—“
“Get away from me!”
She flinched in surprise; he’d never shouted at her before, at least not since they’d entered this relationship together.
Charlie opened her mouth to say more, but the rage in Monroe’s eyes stopped her cold. Shaking, she stood and made her way out of the office. She forced herself to walk as naturally as possible, but she wanted to run.
Once she left the office, Charlie’s feet moved almost of their own accord through Independence Hall.
She knew it. He’d just said he was hers, and then turned on his word. Stupid. She was so fucking stupid to think there was a chance someone would actually love her. That part of her life was over a long time ago.
Before she realized where she was going, Charlie was in her room, shakily stuffing essentials into a travel bag. She didn’t want to take the winter clothes Monroe had bought her, but they were all she had. They’d attract attention, but they’d also sell for a good price once she made it out of the city. She’d get a new jacket then.
Charlie didn’t even have a plan. She just felt so hurt and angry, at Bass and at herself, that she walked downstairs and out the front door without thinking twice. It didn’t make sense that nobody stopped her, but she didn’t care. Her heart was hammering in her chest and the only thing that soothed its crashing rhythm was to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Down one block, then two, then four. Charlie’s lungs ached from breathing heavy in the cold air, but the pain anchored her in the chaos. Fatigue was real, tangible, something she knew well and could quickly overcome. Easier than the feelings she couldn’t do anything about.
—
Bass felt like such an idiot. Of course, Charlie didn’t give a shit about him, not really. Of course not.
“Dumbass,” he growled at himself as he poured another drink.
After a moment, nothing came out, and he realized he’d finished the bottle. Bass threw it across his office. It shattered, pieces of glass going everywhere. It didn’t fucking matter.
He couldn’t believe he’d been played like that. This dumb bitch had wormed her way into his life and—
Fuck. It wasn’t even Charlie’s fault. Bass’s anger at her popped like a balloon and he deflated into self-loathing.
She had been completely right. He was literally keeping her prisoner. Of course she secretly hated him. She’d probably been acting this whole time, waiting for her chance to break free. It’s what any logical person would have done.
Or worse, Bass realized with mounting horror, what if that hadn’t been her angle at all? What if this whole time she’d just been too afraid to say no to him, and he’d been too much of an asshole to see it?
Oh, God. Bass didn’t deserve Charlie, he never would. Best case scenario was that she’d been manipulating him. The alternative made him want to lock the door and start loading his pistol.
He wasn’t sure if Baker had developed clairvoyance, but suddenly he was rushing into the office looking concerned. Jeremy took a look at the broken glass, and the sorry state his friend was in, and made his way over to Bass.
“Hey, man, what’s going on? You and Charlie get in a fight or something?”
“Guess so,” Bass slurred. “No more ‘me and Charlie’ after this shit. I fucked up.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.” Jeremy shook his head. “One of my guys told me he saw Charlie running to her room crying earlier. You might want to sober up and make nice.”
“No,” Bass moaned, dropping his head to his desk. “She doesn’t want to see me, not after everything I’ve put her through.”
He was drunk enough that it didn’t take much convincing from Jeremy to get Bass to spill the beans on their fight, and his reflections afterward.
“She said she loved me, and I told her to piss off. I’m such an idiot!”
Jeremy listened, only a little bit judgmentally, as Bass aired his grievances. When he was finally done blubbering, Bass waited for Baker’s response.
“Well, buddy, you’re right. You’re an idiot.”
Bass stood up angrily, then sat down again when the room spun.
“The fuck is your problem?” He snarled.
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“Sir, it’s obvious that Charlie cares about you. The weird hostage dynamic complicates things, and you two definitely need to talk about that, but she doesn’t hate you. Honestly, I highly doubt that she’s that good of an actor. You’re both just butthurt idiots trying to deny yourselves happiness.
“You want my advice, Bass? Get over yourselves. Communicate, and for once just let yourself be happy without ruining it. You deserve it.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, dumbass, you do,” Jeremy insisted. “You may not believe it, but I do. So let’s get some coffee in you, and get you sobered up enough to go apologize for overreacting because you were scared of letting someone close.”
Bass’s head was still swimming from the liquor, but Jeremy was starting to make sense. He knew he had a tendency to make a big deal out of shit that didn’t have to be, and that he could be a dick when he got angry.
“Okay,” he agreed, taking Jeremy’s outstretched hand. “Coffee, then Charlie.”
—
At the edge of the city, Charlie slowed down. Whatever providence had allowed her to make it this far, she didn’t know how to actually leave Philadelphia. The city had been walled and fortified since becoming the capital of the Monroe Republic, and armed guards wouldn’t let you in or out without papers.
Shit. Charlie turned down a side street, stopped, and paced back the other direction. This part of the city seemed less inhabited than the central areas she’d been in, with several buildings on this road crumbling with age.
Charlie didn’t have a clue what to do. She was cold and miserable, but she wouldn’t go back if she wasn’t wanted. The wind picked up; she needed a place to stop for a minute and think.
One particularly dilapidated home looked almost certainly vacant. Charlie ducked under the door that hung diagonally in its frame. The inside was damp and unsteady, but at least it offered shelter from the wind.
It was cold and only getting colder as the sun began to set. Charlie was not looking forward to what would be a miserable night, but at least she had meager shelter and a place to hide for the night. The militia was probably looking for her by now.
Or maybe Bass just didn’t care. Charlie hadn’t been particularly useful as a hostage, and now she’d ruined what little she had to offer in terms of companionship. Maybe nobody would come looking for her at all.
That thought wasn’t any more comforting than the idea of being hunted.
Her thoughts were interrupted by soft footsteps across the creaking wood. Charlie froze, willing her teeth to stop chattering. In the fading twilight, she hoped she could blend into the background. But the other figure must have seen her, as they made a beeline in her direction.
Charlie had little time to think as the intruder crossed the small space. She wished she had a weapon, even a small one. That should’ve been the first thing she’d looked for in the city, even before shelter.
In a panic, Charlie lunged for a splintered piece of wood to her left; she wouldn’t go down without a fight. The distinct click of a gun stopped her before she could swing.
“Drop it.”
Her splintered board was worthless against a gun anyway, so Charlie did as he said, raising her arms slowly in surrender. The man gestured toward the window, where the last bit light in the sky filtered in.
“Step into the light. Slowly, now.”
Charlie crept over slowly, glancing out the window to see if there was anyone in the street she could call for help. No such luck.
When she reached the light, the man stepped forward and grabbed her face, tilting it to get a better view. Charlie wanted to kick the gun right out of his hand, but right now she didn’t have good enough visibility to pull it off effectively. She remained alert, ready to fight when the moment was right.
“Charlotte Matheson?” the man chuckled. “Well well, fate must really be on my side tonight if I’ve run into you.”
Charlie’s blood ran cold, the heat from the adrenaline of a fight leaving her. She was in deep trouble now.
—
Bass took a deep breath in front of Charlie’s quarters. He had decided to bring the surprise he’d been vvorking. It wasn’t finished, but it would help strengthen his apology. And honestly, Charlie might enjoy finishing it with him.
Okay, he told himself, just do it.
Bass knocked on the door. No answer.
“Charlie?” He called out. “It’s Bass. I need to talk to you.”
Dread blossomed in his chest at the eerie silence. If she was still mad at him and didn’t want to let him in, that made sense, but his Charlie would have stomped up to the door and told him so. something was wrong.
Bass turned the handle. It wasn’t locked. The lights were off, the fire was out. The space was cold, dark, and empty.
He dropped his stack of papers, his chest constricting in panic.
“Charlie?”