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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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Chapter Nine

I’d never been to Chicago, or any major city. It was exciting and overwhelming at the same time. “Stay close to me and don’t talk to strangers.” “Very funny Miles. A week ago we were strangers and now we share a sleeping bag.” “Exactly”, he replied. “I can’t have you wandering off to share some other man’s bunk.” Miles smirked at me. “Besides,” he added. “Just because Monroe hasn’t found us yet doesn’t mean he won’t. I’m sure there’s a bounty on my head and there are so many people that would turn us in for a mere loaf of bread. Never mention my last name to anyone. Got it?” “I do,” I replied. I could feel the seriousness of our situation roll over me like a dark fog. Out on the run it had been fun. We’d been alone and able to speak and act freely. Now we had to watch every word we said. Everyone was an enemy in disguise.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked. “I’m working on it,” Miles replied. We continued to ride through the center of town, edging our horses around various street vendors. It was chaos. People traded wares and livestock in the middle of the street. No one seemed to notice us, they were so focused on their tasks. “Let’s head to the hotel in the center of town. They have an excellent bar.” Miles explained. “I hardly think drinking should be our first priority” I said indignantly. Miles flashed me a dark look and I shut up. “Stop pouting, Lily. Taverns are the perfect place to listen to gossip. Maybe we can get word on what Sebastian’s dogs are up to.” He explained.
We approached a large structure that must have once been a grand hotel. Much of it was in ruins but if you looked closely you could imagine what it looked like before the blackout. We hitched our horses to the post out front and headed inside. Miles was careful to stay in front of me and keep others away from us. He sidled up to the bar and pulled me beside him. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. The bartender ambled over. “What’s your poison?” “Bourbon, straight” Miles replied. The bartender gave Miles a strange look, then turned and walked away. Instead of a drink the bartender returned with a piece of paper. Miles and I exchanged cautious glances. The man lay the paper on the bar in front of us. “Looks like you” he said. I stared so hard at the paper I thought I might burn holes in it. It was a sketch of Miles. And it was very accurate. “Wanted by the Monroe Republic” it said. I didn’t bother to read the rest. I was too busy trying to force my heart back down into my chest. “They want me to turn you in” the man said. “Do they?” Miles asked, unamused. “But I’m not going to do that.” “Really?” I gasped, pleasantly surprised. “The problem is, they want you alive. I don’t.” I saw Miles’s hand close around the hilt of sword. I had no idea what was going on but I knew that it wasn’t good. “And why is that?” Miles asked. “You’re one of them. That’s why.” He replied. “The militia drafted my son and it wasn’t a month before they sent his body home in a box.” “I’m sorry for your loss,” Miles said in an even tone. “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” the bartender said as he pulled a knife from behind the bar. Miles sighed and rolled his eyes. He managed to push me out of the way as he pulled his own sword.
It was over almost as soon as it started. Luckily the bar had been nearly empty. Those that were there, fled as soon as they saw Miles leap over the bar, sword in hand. Miles ended the barkeeper quickly. It was a mercy on his part. After all, charging after a known militia-man was practically an act of suicide. Suicide by cop, my dad had once called it. I grabbed the paper with the sketch of Miles and shredded it as best I could. I could only hope there weren’t others floating around the city. Or this town would witness a blood bath at Miles’s hand.
A small man ran into the bar, looked at the blood on Miles’s sword, at the bartender on the floor then back up to Miles. “Why’d you have to go and do that? Who in the hell am I gonna get to take his place?” And that’s how Miles came to run the hotel tavern.
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The Gift