Chapter Text
** Four Years After the Blackout **
Pulling the night watch sucked in its own right. Pulling the night watch when it was cold and pouring down rain was a whole new level of suck.
“Maybe next time you should let the Major win,” Jared grumbled at his friend.
“How was I to know he was such a sore loser?”
“He's an officer. We're NCOs. We shouldn't even be up here. This is stuff you stick privates with.” Jared rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them. “Dumb-ass.”
“It's only another hour until the next shift. Stop bitching.”
It wasn't like they could see anything in this rain anyway. Or could they? A lightning flash lit up the sky for a moment and Jared thought he saw a little form in the gloom, moving towards the gait that was reminiscent of those old zombie movies.
“Halt and identify yourself!”
Aaron looked at him like he was nuts. “Who are you talking to?”
“There's someone out there.”
“What? You're seeing th...” Another bolt of lightning flashed and Aaron saw it, too. A tiny, scrawny form, now standing still before the gait. It yelled something at them, but the sound was swallowed by the wind and the rain.
Jared hesitated a moment, then gave a curse under his breath. He turned to go down the stairs to the gate. “What are you doing?”
“Outside! Can't hear shit in this storm!”
Aaron sighed and followed. They opened the gate just enough to go outside, guns at the ready. The tiny figure remained in place. When they got close enough, another flash of lightening revealed a young girl, maybe eight or nine years. She was wearing clothing that was torn and worn to the point of being shredded, shoes that were about the fall apart and was caked with so much mud with leaves and twigs that she barely looked human.
Jared lowered his gun while Aaron kept a look out for anyone who may be using her for bait. “What are you doing out here, kid?”
Her teeth were chattering as she tried to speak. “Is this...Ph...Philadelphia?”
Jared nodded. “Yeah, this is Philly. Where are you parents, Sweetheart?”
“I don't know. S...someone took them. I'm looking f...for Uncle Miles. I h...heard Dad say Uncle Miles was in Philadelphia.”
“Okay. We can check around and see if we can find him. What's your name?”
The poor thing looked half dead on her feet. “Ch...Charlotte Matheson.” Jared dropped his rifle in shock, more to catch the collapsing child than in reaction to the name.
** Monroe-Matheson HQ **
“We need to clear out the last of those raiders to the north. They're racking up too high of a body count.”
“Foster's men are near there. He's had time to rest up and resupply so he should be ready to move.”
Miles nodded. “We'll send a runner in the morning.”
“Poor bastard with that job better hope this storm breaks. Whiskey?”
“Yeah.” Miles kept studying the maps as Bass got the drinks. Things were coming together, becoming stable. It was proving to be a hard road, but they were managing to bring some order to the chaos.
A knock sounded at the door. Miles bit back a groan. It was late and he wanted to go to bed, damn it! “Come in!”
A private came in, his hair plastered to his head. “Sorry to interrupt sirs, but the night watch just came in with a child.”
“And you had to run here to tell us this, why?”
“Before she lost consciousness she told the guard she was looking for her Uncle named Miles and that her name was Charlotte Matheson, Sir.”
Miles felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Show me.” They exited the room, going down the corridor to where the kitchens were. They heard voices and clatters before they even opened the door.
One man was holding his forearm with a towel, blood soaking into it. Four others seemed completely unable to figure out what to do. “What's going on here?”
One of the men whirled. “Sir. She woke up and got scared sir. She had a knife on her. We've been trying to get it away from her, but we didn't want to hurt her.”
Miles pushed his way past the men and saw a tiny, muddy, feral little thing crouched in a corner. Her blue eyes were blazing and she held her knife with both hands in a death grip. Her teeth were bared as though she were snarling. Shock went through him as his mind tried to register what he was seeing. He made himself focus and look closer. The rain had managed to send most of the mud into rivulets down her skin and hair. He could make out her features through the grime. She'd lost all of the baby fat she'd had before the Blackout, but it was definitely her.
“Charlie?” He kept his voice calm as he approached her slowly. He'd have to be careful. She was clearly traumatized and he didn't want to make it worse. Her eyes kept darting at all the other people in the room. “Look at me, Charlie.” Her eyes snapped to him, but he saw no definite recognition there. Still, she had come here with his name, according to the guards, so she had some knowledge of connection.
Miles slowly reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out a relic from his past life. The silver chain and the dangling rectangles flashed in the lamplight, drawing the child's eyes. “Do you remember these, Charlie?” He moved closer and knelt down so she could see them clearly.
One hand came off of the knife handle, tiny fingers coming up to still the dog tags. Her voice was very soft as she read them. “Miles Matheson. U.S.M.C. United States Marine Corp.” She made the connection, a good sign. “Uncle Miles.” She looked back up at him, her expression almost heart breaking. “I found you?”
He smiled. “Yeah, Baby. You found me.” He let one knee rest on the floor. “Where are your parents, Charlie? Where are Rachel and Ben?” Behind him he heard Bass tell someone to fetch the physician and to get a bath ready.
A frown creased her forehead. “Someone was coming. Mom said to hide, but Danny wouldn't stay with me like he was supposed to and his someone else. The people took them! They took Mom and Dad and Danny!” She sniffled, her eyes tearing up. “I lost Danny, and I was supposed to look out for him! I didn't mean to lose him!”
“I know you didn't, Charlie. It's not your fault. But you made it here, to me. You're safe now.” He reached out for her slowly. She stank and there was no telling when the last time she was able to get herself truly clean had been. Or had a hot meal. Or even a full night's sleep. “Charlie, you don't need the knife anymore. Mine's much bigger and I'll use it on anyone who tries to hurt you. Will you let me have that one?”
She looked down at her hand as though not certain she should relinquish her only weapon. Then, finger by finger, she unclenched her grip and held it out to him. He passed it back to someone and reached out to pick her up. She weighed hardly nothing and he could feel the bones beneath the shreds of clothing that had been her only protection from the elements. There was what looked like a school backpack on her shoulders and he gently coaxed that off of her as well.
“Bass?” He handed the other man the backpack and accepted a towel from someone else so he could start trying to wring the rainwater out of her Charlotte's hair as he carried her from the room to wherever her bath was set up. Behind him, Bass opened the backpack to examine the contents.