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The Gift	By : MaidOfDishonor Category: M through R > Revolution Views: 3992 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Revolution, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I only own my original character, Lily.

Chapter List
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An hour later a soldier brought us a nice meal of venison and baked potatoes. I hadn’t eaten so well in days and I think Miles could tell because he hardly ate, but smiled as I wolfed my food down. It started to get chilly and to my dismay, Miles put his shirt back on. I’d just have to day-dream about that flat, hard chest and abdomen, with the light sprinkling of dark hairs. I began to wonder, did I have Stockholm Syndrome or was Miles just really, really sexy? Maybe both?
Darkness was approaching fast as we packed for our escape. Miles played the gentleman again and turned his back to me while I dressed in the Militia’s uniform. I never, never, never imagined I’d ever wear this uniform and the thought of it made me kind of sick. Miles seemed to understand and once I told him I was dressed, he turned around and put his hands on my shoulders. “You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can. Here, let me help you with that mane of hair.” Miles sat on the bed and gestured for me to sit next to him. My heart was racing. To my surprise and delight he produced a comb. I turned my back to him and he gently worked the tangles from my long hair. He seemed to take longer than was necessary. Maybe he was enjoying it. I certainly was. After my hair was perfectly combed, Miles tucked it up and pinned it to the top of my head. Then he placed a militia cap over it. He asked me to stand up and spin slowly around for him to inspect me. I was nervous but I put a smile on my face and willed my cheeks not to redden. “You’ll definitely pass from a distance, but no one in the militia has breasts like that” he laughed. “Not even Big Bob.” I wanted to ask who Big Bob was, but it didn’t really matter. He liked my breasts. Now it was my turn to smirk.
Loaded down with weapons and supplies, we made our way to the stables. There we took two horses and headed for the gate. When we approached the sentries I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it’s bulk. The guards were on foot and we on horseback. That helped distance me from them a little. “Commanding General Miles Matheson and my messenger. We’ll be back by daybreak, perhaps a bit later depending on the terrain.” “Yes sir, Godspeed, sir” they replied. Godspeed indeed. And just like that we were through the gates and on our way to freedom. As we rode through the night, using an oil lantern to light our way as well as possible, I never thought of returning home. I had always wanted the whole wide world and now I could have it with Miles. Things seemed to be going too well to be true. And that’s just what they were.
As we rode on we came to a narrow path through the trees on which we had to travel one behind the other rather than side by side as we had been riding. With what I would come to learn as Miles’s sixth sense, he hushed me, turned out the lantern and handed me a sword. He drew his own as we adjusted to the darkness. “Ambush” his whispered. And then they were upon us. There were four of them and they were on foot. From what I could see they looked slightly surprised to see us on horseback but pleased that we were outnumbered. They had no idea who they were messing with. And neither did I. Miles Matheson is a force to be reckoned with. He fights like some people fuck. Fast, hard, and surprisingly well. He took out the four men before they knew what hit them. But what he didn’t know was that there was a fifth man coming up behind him. I urged my horse forward and took the bastard’s head clean off with one swing. Monroe had been right of course. My father was a brilliant sword-smith and fighter and had taught me well. I’d never killed before but I ordered myself to think about this later. There could be more men lurking amongst the dark trees. Miles looked back at me and saw the blood on my sword. “Are you hurt?” he practically yelled. “It’s not mine” I said, pointing to the headless man. I had no idea where the head had rolled to and I didn’t particularly want to find out. Breathing heavily, Miles said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” And onward we went into the night. Putting as much distance between us and Monroe as possible.
“So, where are we headed?” I inquired. “I’ve got family in Chicago. You can stay in my brother’s village. Settle down. Make a life for yourself. I know the militia wiped out your family when they took you prisoner. I’m sorry.” And he did sound genuinely sorry. But I was crushed. He didn’t plan to take me along with him. “I don’t want that life. That little life in a little village. You’re my chance for a bigger life.” He stopped his horse along side mine. “Lily, sweet Lily. You don’t want my life. I’m on the run. Sebastian will let you go, you’re expendable to him but he’ll do everything in his considerable power to get me back. That would put you in too much danger.” “Danger?” I replied. “You mean like the danger we faced back there where I beheaded a guy that was coming up behind you? I can hold my own. And with your training I could really have your back. I could be an asset to you.” Miles was quiet for a long time. Finally he replied, “We have to keep moving. I’ll think about it. I promise.”
By the time the sun came up that morning we were beyond exhausted. And so were our horses. We were lucky enough to find a stream and a grassy area under a copse of trees. We and the horses drank greedily and Miles and I shared a loaf of bread in silence. Silence. He was really good at silence. Almost as good as he was at fighting. My mind wandered back to the battle. His muscular arms swinging wildly but with purpose. His long legs gripping the horse beneath him. The cry of battle, effort and victory emanating from his lungs. Then I flashed back to him in his tent, shirtless. The lean expanse of muscle. And suddenly I wanted him in the worst kind of way. Even if I couldn’t have him forever; couldn’t go with him to Chicago, I wanted him. But both of us were far too tired to do anything more then lay out our sleeping bags and crawl into them, swords by our side. My seduction of Miles Matheson would have to wait for nightfall.
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