#fire country AU

[nade2308]

Summary: Just as planned, Sli put him into the team that were going to get Ice out of the car, and he worked just as he would any other day, devoted to getting the person out, and putting his feelings in a box until the job was done.

Notes:

Hello, again. I am coming with the Fire Country AU this time which was a large part of how my July went (fooled around with this idea, wrote a bit in the AU, established some of the characters and whatnot).

Anyway, the main idea started few months ago while I was watching a Fire Country ep on TV. I was trying to imagine how it would look like if Ice and Mav were in this situation, and this little AU was born.

In case you are not familiar with the show, it deals with a bunch of prisoners that work at a camp that helps firefighters to reduce their ssntence and to be able to get out on parole.

A lot has happened in season 1, but that shall be explained more and written about in the story when I get to it. For now consider this a little teaser.

On that note, I am putting some explanation about the characters.

Characters:

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell - Bode Leone (a prisoner in the Tree Rock camp, former drug addict and the adoptive son of Mike and Mary, uses his actual given name so he is not connected to them)

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky - Gabriela Perez (Ice is already an established firefighter in this AU, the son of a Cal Fire Captain. Without Gabriela's background)

Mike 'Viper' Metcalf - Vince Leone (Cal Fire Batallion Chief, he blamed Mav for the death of his biological son)

Mary Metcalf - Sharon Leone (Cal Fire Division Chief)

Slider - Eve Edwards (Firefighter in the Cal Fire Department)

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw - Freddie Mills (Goose is one of the prisoners. He met Mav in prison and immediately got protective of him, they became best friends. Nicknamed Goose because he got scared of a goose thinking it was a bear during one of the first tasks he had as a firefighter)

Carole Bradshaw - Cookie (she is Goose's wife, pregnant with Bradley at the start of the story)

Bill 'Cougar' Cortell (Metcalf for this story) - Riley Donovan (Mike's and Mary's biological son, died in a car crash)

Sam 'Merlin' Wells - Jake Crawford (Firefighter in Cal Fire)

Ice's father - Manny Perez (Ice's father is the Captain in Cal Fire, and in charge of the Tree Rock camp)

Jester - Luke Leone (Jester is close to Viper, they are like brothers)

I took the liberty to putting Carole as one of the paramedics, as well as Sarah, who is Ice's sister in this. I also headcanoned some of the flyboys as well as some of the TGM crew as firefighters or probies, and because I love that, I added some of the daggers' mothers as firefighters. Hopefully it will all make sense when I get to write the whole story eventually.

Of course, none of this would have happened without @thethistlegirl enabling. Thank you so much for that and for loving this AU just as much as I do.

[naturalsuper]

they are matching they are literally boyfriends

[mixelation]

we're fools. tori's ninja rpf self-insert is clearly not semi-known ninja konoha no tori or utano tori or whatever she's going by, but rather the cup noodle heiress

[stardust948]

Fire Lord Ursa AU, where Ursa and Iroh are at odds each other except when it comes to getting Zuko and Katara together.

[confusedlittleguy]

^ arc 1

^ arc 2

☆

☆

Reblogs appreciated more than likes!

Click on image for better quality!

Will add alt text later

[freecreationpost]

Can anyone write some bode leone from fire country imagines

[mbakuxblackpanther]

Time to get back on my wattpad grind 😌

[fauvester]

do any of the adoption kids dance? what's their taste in music? also is there a story behind the splash on iskra's right forehead temple?

OMG i have so many silly little thoughts about postcanon Cardassian youth music

I love my post-WWII cultural timeline for cardassia, which puts 20 years post-Fire sort of in the mainstream jazz/swing era. Out from the dignified waltzing of Garak's youth and into furtive lindy hopping in basements and bombed-out factories after government curfew.

Iskra definitely sneaks out to go to parties with the rest of the disillusioned youth of Prime. Garak knows. She knows he knows. He desperately yearns for a Cardassia filled with dancing and music and so he will condone youthful rule-breaking.

Mels suggested Romulan pop (rpop you might say) becoming a chief cardassian cultural import and I think that that's hilarious so I'm claiming it. Garak hates it but it's ubiquitous. Electropop cover of the Anthem of the Cardassian Union. Iskra Idan and Jocasta love it and play it constantly.

Young Elim listens to Terran music that he's picked up from Julian. They do sing-alongs on long drives. It's very sweet because neither of them can sing for shit. Jo listens to Cardassian classics and the occasional classical Vulcan or Andorian piece while she works.

Idan plays the Romulan harp (vulcan harp, but Romulan style [e.g. violin vs fiddle]). The harp itself was a gift from Bashir's parents. He mostly just toodles around on it for fun and appalls his Vulcan classmates with his banjo riffs.

As for Iskra's scar, it's the usual thing you'd see with being a child victim of annihilative mondicide.

[ilikeshippingok]

Wincest fire country au.

Sam becomes a fire cadet trainer. And Dean becomes a mechanic. Sam moves them there for work.

Dean goes to smokey's to get some beer and a pie.

And meets Vince and Sharon. Tells them about his brother.

Then Casey shows up with the crew, and Dean sees him in action.

"There he is, my man"

"Dean?"

"Yeah sammy? Should've punched them out I've seen you do worse."

"Who's he Leone?"

"My new favorite costomer, and his friend?"

"Uh...husband.."

Then Dean and Sam still go "hunting" locally.

[walker-extended-universe]

Mending Broken Hearts, Chapter 1

Relationship(s): Bode Leone/Cassie Perez, Bode Leone & Manny Perez, Bode Leone & Gabriela Perez, Jake Crawford & Bode Leone & Eve Edwards, Bode Leone & Vince Leone, Bode Leone & Sharon Leone

Tags/Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Fire, Law Enforcement, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Bode Leone, Slow Build, Awkward Conversations, Confrontations, Tags May Be Added

Summary:

After the death of her boyfriend, Cassie Perez can't stay around Austin for much longer. She ends up in a small town in northern California and finds something she wasn't even looking for. Following Gabriela's wedding and being officially hired to the Edgewater Fire Department, Bode finds purpose in his work and giving back to the community. After he meets the newest cop in the area, he finds another reason to keep going.

Written for @whumptober Day 6: Not Realizing They're Injured

A/N: Y'all had to know a crossover or two was coming eventually

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

-------------------

Getting a call was always a mix of thrill and fear.

Bode loved fighting fires. The protocols and pressure and structure gave him something to hold onto now that he was free of prison and fire camp. Saving peoples’ lives and homes made him feel like he was finally contributing something good to the world after all the hurt he caused. The adrenaline rush didn’t hurt either.

But, of course, the knowledge that one little fuck up on his end could ruin everything was enough to keep him on his toes, keep him from getting too complacent.

Whatever it took to make sure he didn’t mess everything up. Again.

Fortunately (or perhaps, unfortunately), there was no shortage of firefighter related emergencies in Edgewater. So, 9 times of 10, when his mind started going down that dark spiral, he would get interrupted by the call.

“Come on, 42! We got an abandoned building and a police call!” Vince shouted as the alarms blared.

Bode was on his feet in an instant and followed the rest of his team to get suited up and roll out.

They weren’t on the road for more than 10 minutes when another voice entered the regular chatter. “Station 42, this is Sheriff Fox. I need an ETA and then I need you to cut it in half because I have an evacuation emergency.”

“What’s wrong, Mickey?” Sharon called back.

“We were sorting out a hostage situation when someone decided to add arson to their list of charges on his way out,” Mickey said, her strained voice making the radio crackle. “Sharon, I’ve got three good cops trapped in there and at least one civilian. You better get them out alive.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” Vince promised. “We’ll be at your location in 10 minutes. Just keep the crowds out of the way until we get the building cleared.”

“Will do. Get some, be safe.”

“You too.”

When they arrived on the scene, the fire was blazing high. Thankfully, Eve was there with the Three Rock crew to keep it from spreading any further. “What’s the situation?” Bode asked her when they arrived. “Has anyone managed to get out yet?”

She shook her head. “We tried to clear a path earlier but there’s too many spotfires for us to deal with. Your hoses should help, but you gotta hurry; that building won’t stay up for long.”

As if to prove her point, the wall nearest to them started creaking. “Let’s get some water on that thing!” Bode called, rushing back to the truck.

Side by side, he and Jake started putting out the flames. They would need to clear a path before they could worry about getting anyone out.

“Mickey, is there anything else we should know before we start getting a rescue team in there?” Shannon asked over the radio.

“There may be some loose firearms in there, but most of them should be attached to an officer. You’ll just have to be careful. One of my men managed to get out with a hostage through a hole in the wall but there’s still two cops and maybe some more civilians. Be careful.”

“Will do.” Shannon looked up from her command center and inspected the flames. “Bode and Jake, do you two think there’s enough of a path to get through there yet?”

“It might just be big enough,” Jake called. “We should probably take some fire extinguishers just in case. And we’ll need extra oxygen masks for any people we find.”

“You got it. You’ll need enough for at least three people, so get moving.”

Bode handed off his hose to another firefighter and ran back to the truck with Jack to get their supplies. “How do you want to do this?” he asked. “Divide and conquer? Side by side?”

“Side by side is safer, but we’re running low on time….” Jake looked at the burning building. “We go in together, see who we can find. If we find out where more people are, we can see about dividing and conquering.”

Bode nodded. It was as solid of a plan as they were gonna get.

Oxygen masks in place and armed with fire extinguishers, Bode and Jake rushed in.

“Hey! Is there anybody in here?! We’re firefighters, we’re here to help!” Jake called.

“In here!” a woman’s voice called back.

Bode turned toward the voice. He saw a metal door in between the flames. “We’re coming!” He put out some flames and got the crowbar out of his belt. “Stand back from the door!” he instructed. 

“Hurry! I’ve got a civilian in here!”

With some help from Jake, he was able to pry the door open. The door had protected the room from flames, thankfully, but it was still full of smoke. Bode entered the room with two facemasks. “I’m right here,” he said, feeling his way through.

“Here, take care of her first.” An older woman was pushed at him, then the smoke cleared enough to see who he was talking to. A young woman, a bit younger than him, wearing a police uniform. “She’s not injured but we’re both dealing with smoke inhalation. She should be the only civilian left in the building….” She blinked and shook her head. “I- uh, we got cornered and….” She swayed on her feet. Looking closer, Bode could see her head injury bleeding heavily.

Dammit. “Hey, stay with me…” He got a mask on both of them and guided the older woman toward Jake. “Get her out of here; I’ll have to carry the other one.”

Jake nodded and started guiding the civilian out. Bode turned back to see the policewoman was leaning against a set of boxes. “Ma’am? Stay with me, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“I didn’t go anywhere,” she mumbled. “Still right here…..”

“I know. I got you.” He picked her up and started running her out. 

They had more work to do.

—------------

“Easy, Officer Perez….”

Cassie flinched. “Is there a nicer way to give me stitches?”

The medic chuckled. “I’ll let you know when they invent one.” She finished the round of stitches on Cassie’s forehead. “You got lucky, you know? Most of this bleeding is superficial, but you still have a concussion. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy.” Cassie smirked. “Let me guess: next you’re gonna say you’ll recommend medical leave for a minimum of three days so I don’t rip out my stitches.”

The medic lady laughed. “Let me guess, you’ve been in that chair before?”

“More than a few times.”

“You harassing my officers, Gabby?” Cassie looked over to see her new boss, Sheriff Fox, standing at the entrance to the medic tent. “You okay there, Perez?”

“Just dandy, Sheriff. Should be back at work as soon as the doctor lets me.”

Mickey nodded. “Right. Let me guess, three days?”

Gabby nodded. “And I recommend desk duty until her stitches come out.”

“Awww come on….”

“You heard the doc, Perez. Enjoy your time off.”

Cassie groaned. She’d never known what to do with time off even before she moved away from everyone she knew. What the hell was she gonna do now? “Guess I’ll finally get a chance to go sight seeing….”

“That’s the spirit.” With that, she left. 

Another figure quickly filled the entryway, someone she didn’t know. He was tall, blond, and wearing a firefighter’s uniform. Though she could’ve sworn she’d seen him somewhere before…. “How is she, Gabby?” he asked, his deep voice pulling on another memory Cassie couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“She’s just fine,” Gabby said. She briefly looked between them. “Actually, I have to get some supplies from the truck; do you mind watching her?”

“Not at all.” The firefighter stepped into the tent, making room for Gabby to leave. When they were alone, he turned toward her. “How are you feeling?”

“Been worse,” Cassie said. “This is gonna sound weird but… Do I know you?”

He smiled. “Kind of. I’m the guy who got you out of there.”

Oh. Well, that would explain that. “Oh. Well, thanks…. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Bode. Bode Leone.”

She smiled. “Well, thank you, Bode. My name is Cassandra, by the way. But my friends call me Cassie.”

He smiled back. “Are we friends?”

“Well, you did save my life. That gives you some privileges.”

He chuckled. “Alright. Well, Cassie, I’m glad you’re okay. And I hope we don’t meet like this again.”

“Yeah, me too.” She laughed. “Not that I don’t want to meet you again but- You know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bode looked like he wanted to say something else, but Gabby re-entered the tent and took over. “My team’s probably looking for me. I’ll see you around, okay Cassie?”

“Yeah, see you….” Cassie watched him leave, and kept staring long after he left.

She may have just found something to do with her days off.

—----------

It was a few days after the hostage situation fire and Bode couldn’t stop thinking about Cassie. They’d barely talked, hadn’t spent more than about five minutes together. But, still, she was on his mind.

She was pretty, she had a sense of humor, and there was a decent chance they’d run into each other again soon. Edgewater wasn’t that big of a place.

Not that he was going to try to ask her out or anything. She probably had a boyfriend. But it might be nice to hang out with someone who didn’t know about his baggage. Low stakes, just talking with a friend.

Of course, he would actually have to run into her again for that to happen, which he hadn’t so far. Probably because she was still in recovery from her injuries. He hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to waiting to find her on a call again; that would be awkward.

He could ask Aunt Mickey for her contact information, but that seemed…unprofessional. And stalkery. Best to avoid that.

Right now, he was doing his weekly night shift. Being a firefighter wasn’t a 24 hour job, but someone had to be in the station in case a call came in or an alert sounded. A quiet night was a good night and Bode didn’t mind taking one for the team more often than he technically had to.

A knock on the front door set him on edge. It was rare that someone came to them in person, unless there was a serious emergency. So he expected the worst when he went to answer it.

Seeing Cassie on the other side of the door was a welcome surprise. “Oh, uh, hi. What are you doing here?”

Cassie smiled and presented a foil covered pan. “I wanted to thank you for saving my ass the other day, so I made you something.”

“Oh. Uh, well, you didn’t have to do that. I was just doing my job.”

“I know. But it’s nice to be appreciated, isn’t it?” She held the pan up enticingly. “Go on. I spent forever making it, you should enjoy it.”

“Uh, sure.” He took the pan. “What is it?”

“Barbeque. Family recipe courtesy of mi abuela.”

It did smell good. And it would be rude to waste a gift. “Thanks; I appreciate it.”

She smiled. “I hope you like it. I should probably get out of your hair now.”

“You don’t have to,” he said hurriedly. “I mean, it’s usually pretty quiet around here at night. So if you wanted to enjoy this with me….” He chuckled. “It would save me some boredom.”

Cassie laughed. “I’m sure it would. I really do have to get back home though; my roommate wants to do an Evil Dead marathon and I promised her I’d be fast. But….” She pulled a pen and a small notebook out of her pocket and scribbled something down before ripping out the page and putting it on top of the foil. “That’s my number if you want to hang out sometime. See ya!” She waved and skipped off into the parking lot.

Bode smiled after her and carefully brought her barbeque into the shared kitchen space.

He saved some for the rest of station 42, as a courtesy. But he did very much enjoy his gift, and he made sure to text Cassie to tell her as much.

Not a bad night at all.

[rowwrites]

Naruto Twin AU

Had a dream of a naruto twin au except for some reason the self insert naruto twin girl (kushinas hair and eyes, minato face, yk standard) had to go find a tokubetsu jonin or just a jonin for a class project

I'll call her Mikoto / Miko for now or something

So like class project, they're like 4 years old or 5, and it's one of those draw your family and talk about them scenarios and everyone's being mean about it to them bc kids are cruel

Obviously, being SI, she's already told Naruto and thought of a plan to get out of jail free but he wants to draw them despite it being an S class secret. So, of course, she indulges him. Dips out quietly as a mouse and politely asks at the shinobi desk for a Tokubetsu Jonin

By pure chance, one is literally there just going to get a mission. It's also one that, despite them being who they are, is rather neutral about them - we'll call him Haiiro. So he indulges her, "what do you need a tokubetsu for?"

Its serious, the way she looks at him (and adorable since she's a child trying to be serious), "I need a contract written up as a Promise." So he indulges her once more and she pockets the paper and holds her hand out to walk back to the classroom with him.

"We wanna draw our mama and papa-" she says having extracted The Promise, The Contract and Haiiro is internally like 'oh god' and she continues, "But it's a SECRET. SO, we need permission to DRAW THEM but not talk about them :)"

He is in. A situation. He technically accepted this as a mission. Even the shinobi desk ninja accepted it technically. (They didn't read what she wrote properly, she knows it)

So Miko owns that shit. Haiiro gets this feeling he's going to be... sought out more. He also needs to know HOW they know so he can tell the Hokage. But she's a kid so he can't just. Go shove her at a Yamanaka immediately. She looks him dead in the eye and says "so will you do it?"

Fuck it, he thinks, he'll do it, there'll be something funny about this. (Where the fuck is Hound, why isn't he watching her-)

So she slips back into class WITH this Jonin and the teacher is. Stunned. Confused. She thumbs ups naruto and he yells at her that, "Awesome IM DRAWING MAMA"

So she delegates herself to drawing Minato dutifully by looking out the window. If she draws him like a Shoujo man as only a 4 or 5 year old could that's even funnier.

Teacher is BAFFLED. Why is he here, when did the demons sister slip out. What is going on. Haiiro just says, "wait and see. Continue as normal."

So, teacher does. Kids are also curious but can't say anything because Teacher GLARES and gets things back on track. They start talking about their families. Ami gives a snide talk and side eyes Miko and Naruto during it. Sakura recites dutifully. Sasuke goes before them and extolls the virtues of his brother.

Then Miko and Naruto stand. "This is us," they point out, "and this is our parents." Haiiro is torn between laughing and crying. "We can't talk about them cause they're meant to be a secret so that's why I brought Mr Jonin here to let us do this-"

"Our mama was so cool, 'ttebayo!" Naruto says and starts talking about her hair and her face and that, "She was from UZU its so cool."

He wants to shut them up but he also. Doesn't. Bound by mission parameters, he'll claim. Fuck it, he's taking these kids home with him later, theyre SMART. He always wanted minions.

and oh no no what's she doing. She's pointing out the window then at her paper. "Yondaime. Thanks."

Class erupts into shouts. Lots of calls of liars. Naruto is beaming. Miko is smiling innocently, pocketing the paper.

Haiiro is so fucking dead. He laughs and laughs and laughs. He's filing adoption papers later.

[pilferingapples]

It's an old fashioned winter holiday! with threatening singing and loud noise in the streets and fashion shenanigans and a tree that is definitely stolen from Somewhere! For Reasons!

(meant to make a lot more about this but shockingly the holidays got busy so here we are! Left to right: Courfeyrac and Marius and a blanket that may be familiar from another piece , Bahorel and Gavroche dressed as Creatures, Legle, Musichetta and Joly, and Grantaire in the foreground! Bourgeoisie Hate Them, Area Friendgroup Utterly Destroying The Peace and have been for like three days now)

[donatellokinnersinner]

Yall have spoken. Here's the randomized bracket.

links for all the fics/AUs below the cut

Purple Hues and Silver Country Blues 

Feral!Donnie 

Bad Things Happen Bingo  

AU of AU’s Tumblr

TTP AU

Donnie Gets Shredded 

The Fire in His Eyes 

Bring Him Back 

On Repeat

Suppon Nabe 

Maniacal Laughter

TMWT Tumblr Tag

[tr0ves]

i miss you nan ❤️💔

[nancymcl]

I'm kind of disappointed in my spn writer stars. I figured for sure by now that some firefighter Jared stories would have started showing up.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 18) tw: minor character death, injuries, and misogynistic language

masterlist

-

He’s far off still, the smoking gun held tight in his hand and aimed up at the sky. A warning shot.  

At first, you don’t quite believe it. He appears like a mirage in the distance after wandering through the desert for days, on the brink of starvation. Like a trick of the eye. You squint against the light, sure that you’ve mistaken the familiar felt pinch front hat and the speckled Appaloosa he sits astride for someone else, a stranger come to save you instead of the man you’ve been desperately pining for since Graves stole you from your home. 

But the longer you stare at the man coming towards you, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face save for the grim set of his mouth, the harder it is to deny that it really is John. 

Your chest is fit to burst. Heart pumping wildly against your ribcage. The sight of him is revelatory—a burning bush, a stream of light through storm clouds, St Elmo’s fire. The euphoric high is almost overwhelming.

“Son of a bitch,” Graves hisses beneath his breath, hand reaching for the revolver on his belt. 

John is quicker though, firing off another round, this time at the ground between them, alarming Graves enough to make his arm jerk away from his side. Even you yelp. The gunfire cuts your swell of adulation short, bringing you back flush to the surface of the real world again. Graves’ horse scrambles back a few steps, nearly rearing up before Graves gets control of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now—” Graves booms, right in your ear, so loud that you wince, curling into yourself. 

The gelding chuffs at John’s approach, unsettled. Graves digs his spurs into the horse’s side when it takes a few nervous steps back, making it whinny in pain. You’d tell him off, but you’ve learned by now to hold your tongue around Graves. He only knows how to impose his authority through pain. 

“Easy, alright—” Graves calls out, holding out the hand not tangled in the reins to show that it’s empty, the revolver still sheathed in its holster. “No one’s gonna do anything stupid.”

The horse John sits astride is the one he never dared to train you on. The one you know would buck you straight off if you tried to hoist yourself up on its saddle. He’s bigger than Buttercup, all muscle and broodsome aura like its owner, and he doesn’t take kindly to strangers. 

When it breathes out, you imagine its breath should smell sulfuric. Fire and brimstone. 

Closer to you now, you can see his eyes under the brim of his hat. He glowers at Graves, the same look you’ve seen only once before, staring through the window of the general store at the scowl carved into his face when he dragged a man across town, but intensified. Not so much as a glimmer of sympathy or understanding in his eyes. Just cold rage. 

The lines in his face are deep from lack of sleep, dark troughs under his eyes. Shoulders stiff; every muscle of his tensed, poised to react. You wonder how long after Graves took you John realized and followed the two of you in pursuit. 

“I’m gonna say this once and you best not try my patience: let the lady go.”

The sound of his voice rumbles through you, making the hair on your arms raise. Seldom have you heard him use that tone of voice, more man than sheriff. 

Graves’ hand tightens on the reins, knuckles going white. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he has the same obsequious look on his face as he did back in town, indignation relegated to his extremities. You can see it in the tensed muscle of his forearms.

“Now Sheriff, you may have the run of this county, but I’ve got the power of the law on my side. The state of New York has issued a warrant for this woman’s arrest.” Graves’ smarmy evocation to the legality of his actions rankles you. He acts like the whole situation is out of his control, that he takes no joy in your apprehension. Simply a matter of duty. 

Not that it seems to make a difference. Even you could tell Graves that. 

“I won’t ask again.” John’s voice is threaded with fury, angrier than you’ve ever heard him speak. 

And true to his words, he doesn’t. The silence stretches between the two men, fraught with tension. Graves is a rigid line at your back. 

He’s the first to break the silence; the first to give. “At least let me show you the warrant, Sheriff,” Graves implores. “I ain’t just some vagrant that’s come and taken the sheriff’s wife without cause—and I assure you, there is cause.”

John doesn’t say a word, blue eyes still severe. Colder than the waters of Cocytus. 

Graves must take his silence as permission because he reaches a hand into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He holds it out to John at first, perhaps expecting the man to come close enough to take it from his hand, but John doesn’t even glance at the hand offering him the arrest warrant, eyes still locked on Graves. 

“See now, I’ll even read it out—” he says, clearing his throat and half turning the paper back to him. “‘Whereas it has been represented to Government that—’”

“Give the letter to my wife,” John cuts him off, gesturing towards the warrant in Graves’ hand with his gun. “She’ll deliver it to me once you’ve handed her over.”

The interruption stuns Graves into silence, the warrant still held in his outstretched arm. He must not be accustomed to men deferring to women instead of him, much less a criminal like you. Your stomach cramps with nerves. The blow to his ego worries you more than John getting his hands on the arrest warrant. His behavior up to this point has been predictable—violent, but unsurprising. You aren’t interested in finding out if losing his temper changes that. 

John’s eyes flick to yours. The first time he’s really looked at you since arriving unannounced, just a quick glance over you to ensure that you’re well. He must not like what he sees because the skin around his eyes tightens. 

The moment of inattention is all Graves needs, eyes trained on it like a hunting dog. John’s eyes barely twitch away to meet yours and Graves draws his gun, his aim wild when he shoots. 

You don’t see what he hits, but the gunfire drives John’s horse into a panic, throwing its head back and rearing up onto its hind legs. Graves fires again and the ground between you explodes, dirt and debris erupting into the air. The horse roars, the sound deep and throaty. 

Graves grabs you by the back of your dress, forcing your back to arch and shoulders to pull back, using you, for all intents and purposes, as a meat shield. You can hear John try to take control of his horse, but it’s near mindless with fear, braying and bucking when Graves fires again, white smoke billowing from the muzzle. Panic seizes you by the throat when John’s horse bucks him right off, bellowing a curse when his body slams to the ground. 

A scream bursts from your throat, but Graves holds you in place before you can slide off the saddle, spitting a tense shut the fuck up into your ear before digging his heel into his horse’s flank and steering him around, beating a hasty retreat. His horse moves in a wide arc until his body is turned back in the direction that Graves was originally heading. 

You struggle against him until the horse moves at a speed too dangerous to chance falling from its back. It covers ground fast, moving at a breakneck speed. 

“Stop—let me down!” you scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The howling wind carries your voice away. 

The violent toing and froing makes it impossible to cast a backward glance and see if John is in pursuit. All of your senses narrow down to what’s in front of you; from the saddle horn digging into your stomach and the air whipping past your face to the feeling of Graves’ breath wafting over the back of your neck as he pants. 

A booming crack fills the air and you scream, fear soaring to an unfathomable height. 

Graves grunts and tenses behind you, his hands spasming around the reins and letting go involuntarily. Then you feel the body behind you slump to the side, his weight almost unbalancing you until he falls off the horse altogether, feet slipping out of the stirrups. 

The blood in your ears masks the sound of his body hitting the ground. Your head whips around to follow the trajectory of Graves’ body, but a wave of vertigo slams into you, a head on collision that forces you to dig your fingers into the horse’s mane and turn your body back around. 

The horse barely notices the body slipping off its back though, tunnel vision on the road ahead. Legs pumping furiously beneath it, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt. You’d have thought the horse would’ve slowed up with the sudden unburdening of the other person astride it, but if anything, it picks up speed. 

You can’t calm down enough to catch your breath; it gallops ahead of you as well, your vision growing spotty with the short, jagged breaths you take in. Lungs collapsing under the weight of your chest. Eyes squinted against the piercing wind. Sunspots brighter than light itself. 

Your instinct is to make yourself small; shield yourself from the impending pain. That inescapable reality rushes towards you as quickly as you race towards it. You’re going to fall. It’s almost certain. You whimper when a particularly rough stride makes you slip an inch to the right, your fingers gripping into the horse’s mane ever tighter, desperate to keep yourself astride.

Someone’s voice breaks through the noise and you open your eyes. 

In your fearstruck state, you almost don’t recognize the man riding beside you and keeping pace until he says your name—your real name—and you snap back to yourself. No time to contemplate your name in his mouth though, no time for anything except keeping from slipping into total panic.

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the clamor of hooves. 

You peel your face from the horse’s mane to meet his eyes. The parallel of a memory from long ago. It flashes before your eyes and you remember yourself. Numb hands fisted in the horse’s mane unclench. 

“Pull up!” he shouts again, and this time you comprehend. It’s the same as the time before. 

Summoning every ounce of courage in your bones, you tighten your thighs and belly to lift yourself up, gathering and bridging the reins in your manacled hands. Half halt, release, and half halt again. 

“Good—now circle!” John’s voice booms in your ear and through your blood. 

You flinch when you try to steer your horse into a wide, sweeping turn and he resists at first, but on your second try, he follows your pull, his strides gradually slowing, easing up. When your horse finally comes to a standstill, walking its last few strides before coming to a stop, you sit with that bubble of tension until it bursts. Under your thighs, you can feel your horse’s ribs expand and contract with its labored breath. 

The world blurs for a moment. The adrenaline flooding your body dissipates more with every breath you take, but the crash is just as intense as the rise. You can feel the shakes that wrack your body in a way that your mind can’t quite yet take in, still outside of itself. The first thing you truly register is your husband suddenly at your side, coaxing you down from the horse, your handcuffed hands braced on his chest as he helps you down and then holding on to him when your knees nearly buckle under you.

“Thank Christ,” he growls, pulling you into his chest. 

The smell of tobacco and cloves is woven into the fabric of his shirt and you breathe it in zealously because it’s his. The reassurance that your husband has you, that he’s with you now, and the bad is over, nearly bowls you over. Makes you shake all the harder.

When you finally pull your face away from John’s chest, he cups your cheek with a gunpowder dusted hand, tilting your head up so he can press his lips to your forehead. Your gaze flits up and you stare at him with bleary eyes, wondering what he sees when he looks at you. Messy hair and a fleeting breath that quivers out, breaks to pieces, illuminates the sky when you glance over his head and it’s so blue that you could swim in it. 

John frowns when you accidentally roll your shoulder back and wince. “You’re hurt.” 

There’s no use in lying when he'll find out the truth soon enough, so you just nod. 

“His doing, was it?” he assumes more than asks, inspecting you closely now and noting all the fresh abrasions immediately visible to his eyes.  

Most of your injuries are surface level, more than apparent to him after a quick perusal. A split lip and plenty of scrapes just beginning to scab. You’re too tired to recount the events of the day before though, so you just shrug. Then hiss, the pain so intense that your bones go cold for a split second. 

His forehead pinches with his frown, ghosting his hand over your shoulder as if to hold it in place. “I’ll look at it later, okay, darlin’?”

Every inch of you aches. You wish it could just be over now and you could be back in your bed by sundown, but you know the way home will be just as long. No rest unless you want the journey to be twice as long. The exhaustion alone might have you keel over before night falls. 

Then someone coughs and drags you back into the real world. 

You follow the sound with your eyes until they land on its cause. The crumpled form of the bounty hunter that dragged you out of town lies a quarter mile back. It’s difficult to make out the state of him from so far away, but you can tell it isn’t pretty, mangled and bloody from the fall he took off the horse. 

“Oh God…” you murmur, eyes widening when the man twitches against the grass. 

John’s hand falls away from your cheek. His anger is so palpable that you can feel it fill him back up, blue eyes going steely and jaw tightening as he stares at the man that tried to take you from him. 

“Stay here,” your husband growls, hand reaching down to draw his pistol again.

John leaves you by the horses some distance away as he makes his way over to Graves’ prone form. Blood seeps from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, saturating his shirt and wetting the dirt beneath him, and even from where you stand, you can see the odd angle of his ankle from where he hit the ground. 

With no small amount of effort, Graves props himself up on his good arm, the other hanging limp against the ground. Even the sight makes you wince, bile churning in your stomach. He has to be in tremendous pain. Even John limps a little as he approaches the other man, hip likely sore from his own fall. 

Against your better judgment, and your husband’s command, you take a step towards them. And then another.

You have no reason other than the sinking feeling in your belly. If it were you with the gun, things would be different, you think. You’d do it again, without a second thought. Anything to keep Graves from opening his mouth. 

The gun in John’s hand makes clear his intentions in no uncertain terms. Out on the plains in the middle of nowhere, even taking pity on the man and bringing Graves to the nearest town might not be enough. It’s a rough world out there. Tougher still with a wounded shoulder and sprained ankle. 

More to the matter, John’s face says it all, jaw clenched and lips drawn into a tight line. 

“It doesn’t have to go this way, sheriff,” Graves wheezes when the other man draws close enough to hear. 

“You know I haven’t got a choice now,” John says, gazing up at the sky for a moment before looking back down at the man on the ground. “Not after you laid a hand on my wife.”

Despite the distance, Graves’ voice carries when he speaks. “You think you know that bitch? You don’t know this woman from Eve. What makes you think she won’t butcher you like she did that man back east?”

So casually he says it that you almost miss it. And then you don’t. The words pour over you like a sudden rain and you are back in that room, dread so potent that it chars the flesh, leaving cratered, necrotic holes wherever it touches. The worst moment of your life. 

And Graves says it like a sin of your own making, like it was something you wanted, not a moment in your life haunting you from beyond the grave. 

Your heart stops when your husband looks over at you assessingly. The truth lours over the two of you now, out in the open at last. All those months of hiding it, squandered in a moment by an injured man’s words. All you can do is stare helplessly at the man outlined by the blue sky, the horizon forever etching him into your memory. It’s the first time since you stumbled into the sheriff’s office all those months ago that you haven’t wanted him to think that you weren’t the woman that was supposed to be his wife.

“Shoulda listened to me, sheriff,” Graves laughs, his voice pained and raspy. “That Jezebel needs to answer for what she did.”

You can see it in his eyes that he believes Graves. And why wouldn’t he? The man has committed no crime; spoken not a lie to this point. 

John looks at you in such a strange way though. There’s no surprise there; just a glint in his eye meant only for you. A glint that says darlin’, this ain’t nothin’ new; you never could’ve fooled me. 

He knew your name after all. And you wonder how long he’s known. If he found out sometime in those first days or somewhere down the line or if the arrest warrant fell across his desk in recent days and he knew it would come to this, someone hunting you down across state lines to bring you back. If he knew he’d always have to come after you and rescue you from the jaws of death. 

Everything comes all at once, each moment flashing across your mind barely long enough to leave an impression. Everything is proven immaterial in seconds. 

There’s so much between the two of you. History, obligation, duty. Tenderness shouldn’t even be the half of it, and yet it bears down twice as hard. It’s the only thing that matters when you look at him—not the thought of being dragged back east and forced to stand trial, not the injustice of being made to atone for protecting yourself against a worse fate, but the thought of being taken away from him, of never seeing him again.

You can feel that worry evaporate the longer you hold his gaze. There’s something intentional there, something he is saying without words. 

These days, you do not think to tremble when his hands are on your lips. You tilt your head instead, wait for him to make his next move. Your trust, implicit, underlying everything. Knowing he’ll break the bread and feed you from his hands if need be.

Though you can’t unhinge your jaw enough to ask him to promise that he’ll keep you, his eyes say that it’s a foregone conclusion. How could he ever let you go? You’re everything he’s ever wanted, the only thing even duty could never take from him. 

John looks back down at the man lying at his feet. “Couldn’t help runnin’ your mouth, now could you?”

Graves opens his mouth, but John doesn’t wait for a response. He pulls the trigger.