Author's Note: recently I read that Billy Burke was originally slated to play Bass Monroe instead of Miles Matheson. And I kinda wondered what that would look like. And then that kind of gave me this idea. So I had to start writing it. I am NOT rewriting all of Seasons 1 and 2 of Revolution, but I thought I would take a stab at rewriting some of the Miles and Charlie scenes and swap Bass in for Miles. We'll see what happens. This particular scene is simply Ben's death scene. The dialogue is verbatim, I just changed the relevant names. No, Bass will NOT be Charlie's uncle in this story. He's still Bass, Miles is still Miles, it's just that a few things happened differently in this AU. Chapter 1 is already in progress. So is Chapter 9 of the Rescuers. This story will stay rated T for now, but I may have to up the rating in the future.

Disclaimer: These characters are Not Mine. I just like to play with them.

Crazy, but that's how it goes
Millions of people living as foes
Maybe it's not too late
To learn how to love, and forget how to hate.

-Crazy Train, Ozzy Osbourne, Randy Rhoads, Robert John Daisley

Charlie looked up from her treasure trove when she heard the unmistakable blast of a rifle echoing through the trees, followed by the cries of birds as they took flight. Citizens of the Matheson Republic weren't allowed to own firearms, and any citizen who did (and she knew of several) wasn't likely to fire one within earshot of civilization unless they had a damn good reason. As hers was the only village for miles around, the gunshot meant trouble. She hoped it was nothing more than a wild dog that had wandered too close to the village.

She jogged back to her hiding place and slid the lunch box back into its spot. As she did, another blast echoed through the trees. Moments later, four more blasts followed in quick succession. Panicking now, Charlie bolted into a dead run back toward the village, heedless of fallen branches and other debris in her way. When she finally reached the gate, she stopped in her tracks, unable to make sense of the scene that lay before her. The faint tang of black powder was in the air; people were crying, and there were bodies lying in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Maggie was kneeling next to one, and with a twisting wrench of her gut, Charlie realized it was her father.

"Dad!" she called, her voice husky from the exertion of running at top speed. She dashed over to his side and clutched at his shoulder, horrified to see that Maggie's hands were pressed against his chest in a futile attempt to stanch the flow of blood. "Dad! What happened? Wh-what happened?" she asked tearily.

Maggie glanced at her briefly before her eyes flicked back down to her husband. There was a terrible truth in her eyes that Charlie did not want to consider. One of their neighbors, Priscilla, stood a few steps away from Ben's feet, covering her mouth with her hand as if to stifle a scream. Ben looked up at his daughter with unshed tears glistening in his eyes and blood on his face.

"Danny's gone," he rasped painfully.

"Danny's gone?" Charlie repeated, confused. What did he mean? Danny couldn't be dead. He simply couldn't. They had been exploring together just that morning, and the asthma attack had passed and he was fine.

"Militia," Maggie said softly. "Militia took him."

Charlie didn't understand. Why had the militia taken her brother? They'd had enough volunteers this season; it had been a lean year, and the militia paid their recruits well with extra rations for their families. Why was her father lying on the ground, bleeding?

"Okay…okay, wh-what do we do, what do you want me to do?" she stammered as she caressed her father's cheek, his stubble rough under her palm, sticky with blood. She refused to look at Maggie again, refused to see what the older woman was trying to tell her.

"Listen. You need to find Bass in Chicago, at The Grand on Walton Place. Bass is there. He can get Danny back. You need to find Bass," Ben said slowly, emphasizing the name each time he said it. Charlie shook her head. The name was familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Dad, no, no. We'll catch the soldiers! We can go right now, we'll take him back!"

"No, no. They'll kill you," Ben said seriously, his blue eyes, so like her own, delving into hers. He wanted to make sure there was no mistake, Charlie was not to pursue those soldiers on her own, no matter what.

"But you're gonna come with me," she pleaded in a small, choking voice. "Okay? You're gonna come with me." Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over, trailing down her cheeks. She cradled Ben's head in her hand and willed him to agree with her.

"I can't," he whispered, shaking his head. His eyes held the same terrible truth as Maggie's, but still Charlie refused to acknowledge it.

"Yes, you can," she insisted, tears falling freely now. "Please, please," she whispered pleadingly, shutting her eyes tight to avoid seeing the shadow in his.

"Listen to me, Charlie," he whispered, trembling now from the strain of simply speaking. "You're strong. You're so strong, you're like your mom. You can do this. You have to do this." He gave her a faint smile, pride shining in his eyes.

Charlie nodded fiercely, her lips compressed to keep from crying out. Slowly, the spark of life in her father's eyes faded away, and she lowered his head gently to the ground. Beside her, Maggie sobbed.

Ben Matheson was dead.