#𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — maybe god can be on both sides of a gun ( arc four ).

[stfreds-archived]

𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

a summary by chapters of fred dawson’s life / main verse ( TW : long post —— ft. mentions of domestic abuse, violence and general abuse, child abandonment, torture, human trafficking, forced s ex work ).

𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — there’s freedom to and freedom from ( prequel ). freddie gallagher, the wife of james a. gallagher, is a s ex worker within the ranks of notorious mobster victor cullen ( her uncle ) in the el paso, texas area. she is forced into the profession as she is forced into her abusive marriage. at the age of twenty-six, after learning she is pregnant, she manages to escape and make herself lost to her family and victor’s crime ring. she gives birth to her child in an arizona hospital, and leaves it behind, giving it up for adoption, then her journey continues, away from texas.

𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — hope is a dangerous thing ( arc one ). a semblance of a life is gained slowly, achingly, bit by bit, in a town that looks too much like purgatory not to make her wish for atonement. it’s not heaven, despite the name of the place she first sets foot inside: st. peter’s, peter andrews’ bar. he takes her in, gives her food, and a job —— she takes the name of freddie dawson, and with a fake id begins rebuilding herself. a huge step towards a life worth living is achieved by befriending moa zhao, best friend and the total of her family. later on, astoria grim, adopted as a sister. a chance at love is given, too: some casual hookups with a few serious things peppered here and there ( tom keen, notably, remains her boyfriend for more than a little while ). but she remains one foot out of the door, always: a fear in her lungs won’t let her truly breathe in. she looks at the horizon, she’s waiting for a storm.

𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — happiness is a butterfly ( arc two ). he comes in with the rain, and despite the fear that won’t let go of her, she lets him drown her. kal anderson takes her by surprise, a hurricane with no warning —— she falls in love, harder than she ever has, too fast to hold herself steady. it’s powerful, it’s unbelievable, it’s everything she’s craved: a passion so strong it annihilates her fear, a belonging so certain, so true that she can hardly tell where she ends and he begins. for a year she is his, and he, hers —— by the fourth month he’s moved into her place and she swears to god she doesn’t need anything other than all this love, all the tidal waves of it, for the rest of her life. through him she meets charlie jenkins, kal’s apprentice and coworker, reckless and young and as chaotic as the brother she never had, and severin moran, kal’s old friend, also reckless and also chaotic, but somehow, she senses, broken enough to be recognized as her similar: a kindred spirit. for the first time, freddie dawson is happy. she’s truly, desperately happy. 

𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — covered in scars a canyon deep ( arc three ). but kal has secrets, and ways of escaping her, and one day when his demons catch up with him, the truth resurfaces: he was never the charming mechanic come from up north, but a mercenary. there is a hit on her head, a claim raised by her uncle who wants her back —— and he, poor kal anderson, is none other than ilias abørn, gun for hire who’s come to collect his bounty. except he’s fallen for it too, and in spite of the lies, they both know: the wildifre burning them up is real. the love, the annihilation of it all is real. and she swears she can forgive him, they can run away, they can make it work —— but one day he’s gone and she realizes: she’s drowned in him for real, and she can’t swim back up to the surface. 

𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — maybe god can be on both sides of a gun ( arc four ). ilias goes back to new york, not just to leave her behind but to face his demons. she learns, without really meaning to, that his demons have the shape of a crime syndicate in which he was forced as a child, by which he was trained and raised under the rule of one sociopath by the name of poe. it is him that ilias goes to face, expecting punishment for the way he so spectacularly screwed up his assignment. some of ilias’ fellow mercenaries lead fred to the sugar factory where he was raised and being held, and together they free him from his torture. it is the moment in which she first realizes the width of her desperate devotion, the lengths she’d go to for him, how her heart has found, in the end, a home — and will refuse to let it go. for about two weeks they try to make it work, escape together and find a real chance at life. two weeks in, ilias gives up and, in order to protect her, disappears: in the end, it turns out he is much better than fred ever was at martyrdom. 

𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — how to draw a line between wrath and mercy ( arc five ). hope is a stubborn, flickering flame —— but it can be snuffed out. hers dies when she gets ilias’ dog tags delivered in the mail. maybe she’s too weak to fight it, or maybe it’s just easier to tell herself he’s dead —— gone, vanished. that there is nothing left to fight for, not even her survival. she dies little by little, the flame in her eyes shrinking until she can’t muster up a smile not even for her closest friends —— so she leaves. leaves a town behind where every corner reminds her of him and a time she was truly, overwhelmingly happy. for about six months she hides away between utah and nevada, nursing her grief, slowly, then, with all the love carved out of her, her flickering flame turns into rage —— and rage is a quiet thing. it becomes evident to her how everything good she ever owned, every ounce of love she ever fought teeth and nails for, has been over and over destroyed by her uncle turned jailer, victor cullen. knowing he'd never really give up looking for her and make her pay for the sin of having escaped his grasp, one day she decides to surrender herself in an act of equal parts punishment and guts. because if there is one thing that can keep her going, it's the need for an enemy: and, she figures, she's always been good at acting. she surrenders herself to him and his crime ring, acting like the contrite prodigal niece, returns to texas and for the following two years plays her cards so well she's got him fooled. within the prison that is her commitment to victor’s operation she meets ira dunham, trapped like her, unwilling accomplice like her. the two grow into close friends, relying on each other to survive their shared sentence —— it’s thanks to ira’s help, also, that fred manages to fool victor. he, forever underestimating her, doesn't get it —— how she does his bidding only to keep gathering information on him. how she becomes his right hand only to be entrusted into private meetings and confidential files. how she acts as his accomplice in the business of human and drug trafficking because she's the only one who can sabotage him from the inside, look after his prisoners, and send his operation into flames. he doesn't know. when he catches up, it's too late. three things happen quickly after one another: first, freddie learns ilias is actually alive, but in hiding. a few days later she finds people she can strike a deal with, in hopes to trade all her intel on victor’s operation for ilias’ freedom —— she turns to detective sorensen, at first, and when she realizes jessica sorensen can’t be trusted either, she strikes a deal with detective nam. third, in a shocking turn of events, ilias comes to texas to settle her score with victor.

𝐕 . 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 — kill the angels if they’re keeping guard ( arc six ).  the rest is a greek tragedy —— victor finds ilias, victor takes him, victor tortures him. once more, it’s fred’s life within his hands: and when victor puts a gun in her hands and orders her to shoot ilias, the love of her life, believing freddie to have been corrupted for good, freddie puts an end to the story, and shoots her uncle instead. somehow, she and ilias make it out. somehow they survive. scattered and broken and drenched in trauma that carries the iron scent of blood and death, but they survive. over the years, little by little, they find some semblance of peace. they nurse each other’s scars, and though they can never truly be happy or themselves again, they find a balance —— between terror and beauty, between rage and devotion. eventually, fred and ilias move to a small town on the oregon coast, and try to earn themselves a piece of purgatory. it’s not a happy ending, no —— but they have each other, and what’s left of them is two hearts refusing to give in for good. once a wildfire, now a flickering flame: but still burning.

[dadukos-arc]

the graves’ church, harlan, ky. may 14th, 6:59 pm.

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒. in motels, in unlit alleys — in graveyards where passing is a word of multiple meanings, and when the days pass they never quite resurrect, but chase each other along endlessly grey lines. such is her life in this passage: a grey line of steps chasing each other, every morning, dragging her through an underwhelming existence and always, unfailingly, ending here. it is the sunset that alerts her of the passing of time — just those twelve minutes of burning red igniting the church windows, a cathedral in flames, a temple to arson. then the night settles, but it is just the same as daylight. it is dark, it is empty, and no clutching of her silver cross would bring back the feeling of a benevolent god. so each night her feet will eventually drag her back to the motel at the end of the road —— that is not to be called home, nor shelter really, for it is just a stop along the way. she thinks of jesus and the twelve steps towards his crucifixion, and thinks to herself, when then ? when do i get to climb to my golgotha ? yet tonight she does not wander. an odd sense of old testament rage grips her instead:  she makes the slow climb up to the door of the church and finds the reflections of a raging sunset setting fire to the pews, a preacher standing in the light, a stain of black against the light. perhaps it is the darkness that soothes her rage, a little: it is so much easier to feel close to those who, like her, seem to chase the light away. “ father ? ” her voice, barely a whisper, sounds like profanity in these halls: but she is grateful for the wood along the walls, she is spared the exposure of a reverb. fred, or whatever is left of her, takes one more step inside. “ can i ——  ” a penitent gaze is lowered, words die on her lips: then, looking up once more, her voice is quieter. “ do you have a minute ? ” —— @deputystakes​.