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shan282-ao3 · 5 years ago

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The Devil Has Come Ch5

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Far Cry 5 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed Characters: Original Female Character(s), John Seed, Jacob Seed, Joseph Seed, Faith Seed, Staci Pratt, Nick Rye, Sharky Boshaw, Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Original Male Character(s), Kim Rye, Boomer (Far Cry), Joey Hudson, Earl Whitehorse Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Character Death, Slow Burn Series: Part 1 of Bottom of The River

Summary: They should never have been there. Whitehorse and Pratt were right when they spoke against going to Eden’s Gate. They should have left The Project alone. They’d started something and there was no going back now. The lamb had broken the first seal and the deputy had been helpless to stop her.

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It had been nearly a week since she’d spoken to John on the radio. The channel that he had previously called her on remained silent when Sarah was tuned to it which was more and more now. She told herself she was just keeping it on that channel so she could get a heads up if John sent his goons after her.

Since leaving the Ryes’ and taking US Auto back for the Resistance, Sarah and Rook had been laying low. Sarah had collected Boomer from the packing facility and brought him back to her house where he’d proceeded to make himself at home on her couch. It was comforting to have him there, though he’d woken her up a few times so he could bark at squirrels.

She was curled up on the couch reading a trashy novel when her radio blared to life, causing Boomer to leap up from his spot next to her and start barking again. Sarah shushed the dog and looked at the radio in front of her, anxious to hear what it was about to relay.

“Deputy? This is Mary May over at the Spread Eagle.” Mary’s voice rang out and Sarah sat forward, her book discard and elbows resting on her knees. “We’ve got a bit of a problem. John Seed and his fucking Peggies are trying to take the town.”

Sarah swore and jumped up, she cranked the volume on her radio in case someone else called and ran into her room to change. While she was rushing to change into something more practical, she heard Dutch telling Rook to head to Falls End.

Changed, Sarah holstered her 1911 and slung her rifle across her back. “You stay here Boomer, I don’t want you getting hurt. I promise I’ll be back soon.” She gave the dog a few pats before heading out the door, locking it behind her.

As she climbed into her truck, she debated radioing Rook to let her know she was on her way, but she decided against it. If the Peggies had their radios tuned to the channel she didn’t want to alert them to her arrival.

The radio clicked on with the car, she had forgotten that she’d left it on Peggie radio. Oh John carried through the speakers and Sarah couldn’t help but smile. The song was actually really pretty. She caught herself singing along in no time and didn’t really care, it was catchy dammit.

“I’m gonna strafe these sinners.” A voice echoed through the radio of a fallen cultist nearby. Sarah looked to the sky in time to see the plane start to fire and dove for cover. Bullets peppers the spot she’d just been standing and she took a shaking breath.

She’d shown up to a mostly calm situation, the Peggies had already won the battle and taken over the town. Her plan had been to stay low and do this stealthily, then a few had spotted her when she was trying to get into the church and that plan got thrown out the window.

Rook had shown up just in time and, with the added firepower, they’d managed to free most of the people of the town and take out the majority of the Peggies on the ground. That’s when two panes had shown up and everything went to shit again.

Mary May was screaming at Rook about a mounted gun somewhere but Rook was focused on keeping the ground reinforcements at bay. Sarah could get to it, she just had to time it right. She looked to the sky again to figure out where the planes were and about how long she had till they fired again.

The one plane that had just fired was circling back to fire again, however the other simply circled the town menacingly. It was black, unlike the other white was a bright white, similar to all of the other Project vehicles. Its color and height above them reminded Sarah of a circling crow.

The white plane fired again, as soon as the bullet were past her spot Sarah shot from cover and ran towards the general store. She kept looking back towards the black plane as she hastily climbed the ladder. On the roof, she spotted the mounted gun almost immediately and rushed to it.

She lined up the shot with the white plane and held the trigger down. They exchanged fire until enough of her bullets had hit the engine and the plane exploded, the force causing Sarah to jump back and press herself against the ground. Pieces of the plane rained down on the streets below, the smell of burning fuel filled the air, and the flaming carcass of the plane crashed down near the water tower.

The black plane circled once more before turning and leaving, Sarah took it as her cue to climb back down and rejoin everyone else. By the time she was back on the ground, Mary May, Rook, and Pastor Jerome had already disappeared into the Spread Eagle. Sarah stepped in just in time to hear the tail end of their conversation.

Jerome nodded at her as he passed on his way back to the church, Sarah returned it and leaned against the wall, watching Rook and Mary May share a beer. She felt a little ignored, neither had even acknowledged her presence, in Rook’s case she had her back to her but Mary May could see Sarah standing there clear as day.

“Rook?” Sarah finally said, causing her friend to look in her direction.

“Partner!” Rook cheered and grabbed Sarah, pulling her down onto a stool. “Good job taking down that plane. Thought it was gonna kill us all.” Sarah smiled at the woman and shrugged at the praise.

“It was nothing, you would’ve done the same.”

“Well yeah, obviously, but I didn’t you did. Mary May can I get another beer and…” She turned to Sarah with a prompting look.

“Oh um I guess a vodka tonic.” A minute of waiting and the drinks were served. Sarah smiled at her drinking companion as they cheered before taking a long drink from her glass. She breathed a happy sigh and the warm feeling the licked her throat as the drink went down, she hadn’t had a proper drink since before all this shit started and God she’d missed it.

More patrons filed into the bar and as day turned to night Sarah and Rook found themselves moving to a small table outside, their drinks moving with them. Sarah nursed her eighth vodka tonic of the night, sipping it idly through a tiny straw she’d stolen from beside Mary May’s coffee pot.

“You got a first name?” Sarah broke the silence, she kicked her feet up on the table, leaning the chair back precariously.

“Yeah?” Rook responded with a small grin, quirking her eyebrow.

Sarah waited for her to give it before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Well… what is it?”

“Tessa, Tessa Rook.” Rook, or rather Tessa, responded, Sarah would have to get used to the first name.

Sarah broke into a goofy grin. “Wait your last name is Rook?” A nod of affirmation sent Sarah into a fit of giggling. “So you’re Tessa Rook the rookie? On God, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Her hysterics infectious as soon Tessa had joined in the laughter, only to start laughing even harder when Sarah, in all her idiocy, leaned back and topped her chair. She paused in shock before meeting Tessa’s eyes and laughing just as hard.

“Jesus fuck I love that.” Sarah wiped a few tears from her eyes, still laying on the floor. Mary May’s face swirled into view to tell them they were cut off and Sarah only grinned stupidly at the woman and waved her away. Someone pulled her up off the ground and handed her back the jacket she’d left inside, John’s jacket, the keys jangled in it.

“G’night Rookie. See ya tomorrow.” Her words slurred together and she waved at the other woman before shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket and starting her trek back to her truck. It was slow going, she was swaying an awful lot, not to mention it was dark as shit out so she was tripping over her own feet.

With a lot of fumbling, tumbled toes, and swearing, Sarah finally found the truck and pulled the keys out to unlock the door. The key scrapped against the door, missing the lock on the hand completely and dropped from Sarah’s hand. “Fuck me.” She swore, dropping to the ground to find them, kicking them farther away in the process.

After maybe two minutes she gave up, she was a quitter by nature and slumped against the side of the car. Her radio dug into her side, an idea popped into her head and in her drunken stupor, it seemed absolutely genius.

It was still turned to the old frequency she’d shared with Tessa before John had hijacked it, he hadn’t talked to her on it in a while but maybe he still had the frequency tuned.

She clicked the button to talk and waited a second before actually saying anything, “John?” She waited, nothing. “Come on John I know you’re there. Johnny? Johnnycakes? Answer me.” She was practically whining.

“What?” John finally answered and he sounded irritated beyond all hell. “Do you have any idea what time it is, deputy?”

“No.” She deadpanned before bursting into another fit of giggles. “You know you say deputy weird.”

“What do you want Sarah.” His tone was getting more irritated by the second and Sarah couldn’t help the amused tone that slipped into her’s.

“Whatcha doing?” No answer. “Torturing lost souls? Marking sinners? Hey, what’d my sin be?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you called me the first time, to tell me you were gonna free me from sin, you said you knew my sins. Well, what are they?”

“Wrath. Pride. Sloth if the past week is being taken into account. No one has seen you in days have you even left your house?” There was playful accusation in his voice

“Hmm, okay I guess those are valid. Guess I pictured myself as more of a Lust girl but Pride is fine too.” She shrugged, her slur was worse than it had been earlier as exhaustion started to take over.

“You’re drunk,” John replied, realization finally dawning on him.

Sarah clicked the button to talk again and laughed. “No shit honey.”

“I’m sending someone to get you.” She could practically hear him pinching his nose in irritation. He was probably shouting at some exhausted guard, Sarah couldn’t help but at the image. “Where the hell are you?”

“Outside Falls End, but I have a car. When I find the keys I can drive home don’t worry.”

“You’re not driving home,” He snapped, “Just wait there, someone is coming for you. Just wait, please.” His last words were softer, his voice carried the same gentleness as it had at the baptism and Sarah sighed at it. “Sarah? Sarah are you still—”

“I’ll wait, John,” She cut him off, “I’ll wait.” The few lights in town were shutting off one by one until all the was left was the Spread Eagle sign. Sarah’s head lolled back, hitting the truck softly with a quiet clunk, and she smiled up at the stars, waiting.

The crunch of dirt under tires announced her escort’s arrival long before the truck stopped in front of her. She looked up at the driver as they, he, stepped out, and she grinned at him. “John sent his favorite lapdog. Hi Tommy.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and stooped down to help Sarah up. “Hello, deputy.” He didn’t seem pleased to be out here, Sarah didn’t really care.

“It’s Sarah, pretty sure we’re gonna see lots more of each other.” Thomas held her gaze for a second before sighing and shaking his head. He led her to the car, helping her into the passenger’s seat and strapping her in. “Can you take me home?”

“I’m taking you to John.”

“No.” She sounded like an angry child, on the verge of stopping her foot in protest. “Home. If you take me to the ranch I’m just gonna break Johnny’s nose and run away again.”

“It’s not up for debate, missy. Now sit back and fall asleep or something, just stop bitching.” He was definitely not pleased to be here, John probably woke him up. Sarah glared at the man for a second before finally shrugging and turning in her chair so her head was against the window. She tried to pull her legs onto the chair, but they were too damned long and she gave up after a minute of struggling.

The Hope County choir played quietly through the speakers and the beginning of “We Will Rise Again” lulled her to sleep as they neared the ranch.

Sunlight pouring in through the uncovered window woke Sarah up with a pained groan. She practically hissed at the light and rolled over, covering her head with her pillow. She was vaguely aware that it wasn’t her pillow, her bed, or her room, but she honestly didn’t give a shit right now.

She cracked open groggy blues eyes and noticed the glass of water and bottle of pain killers on the bedside, bless whoever had left them because fuck was she feeling last night. She downed a couple pills and chugged the glass before laying back in the bed and taking some steadying breaths.

Sarah finally pushed back the blankets and climbed out of bed, albeit incredibly slowly. She was grateful to see that she was still dressed in her clothes from last night, minus her boots and stolen jacket. There were clothes sitting on top of the dresser in the room and Sarah looked at them curiously for a moment before her attention moved to the bathroom.

She stripped off her clothing, biting back a small curse as she jostled some injuries from yesterday’s gunfight. She turned on the shower and stepped in, finally breathing a sigh of relief when the hot water rushed over her. An audible groan escaped her lips as she washed, the water at her house never got nearly this hot, it was like she was in heaven.

When she’d finished up and toweled herself dry, she dressed in the clothing that had been left for her: jeans that actually fit relatively well and a dark blue button up that was obviously a man’s. She rolled the sleeves up and left a few of the top buttons undone. It clearly didn’t fit still, so she tucked the rest into her jeans. Her boots were next to the door and she pulled them on, someone had scrubbed all the dirt off of them, weird.

Sarah stepped out the door and stopped when she saw Thomas standing across from it. “Morning.” He greeted, he sounded exhausted and Sarah felt a touch of pity for the poor man. He’d probably been out there for hours.

“Good morning, Thomas.” She returned the greeting and followed him as he led the way out the front door instead of the back like he had last time. They stepped out onto a covered patio and Sarah took a brief moment to breathe in the cool morning air before continuing behind her guide.

Thomas stopped in front of a table and gestured for Sarah to take a seat. She looked around curiously before sliding into a chair, tapping her fingers on the wood to stave off the awkward silence that had formed. A copy of the Book of Joseph sat on the table and Sarah traced the gold embellishments on the cover until a forced cough caught her attention.

Sarah looked up to see John and held his gaze as he sat down across from her. He handed her one of the two mugs he’d been carrying and sat back as a cultist who’d followed him set down to plates of various breakfast foods.

“Do you want cream or sugar for that?” He gestured to the mug and Sarah simply nodded, stunned by the domesticity of the whole situation. The Peggie scurried away before returning with a small cup of cream and a little bowl of sugar. Sarah tore her eyes away from John to smile in thanks before fixing her coffee to the way she liked it.

After another few minutes of silence, John just watching her as he sipped his coffee and she nibbled at a piece of buttered toast, she finally broke. “Thanks for not letting me drive, probably woulda killed myself.” She let out a hollow laugh, this whole situation was so weird and she honestly had no clue was to expect.

“You’re welcome. I can’t have you dying for you can reach atonement.” Sarah tensed at that but John quickly waved his hand away. “I didn’t bring you here for that, this time. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit during the night so I had Thomas bring you here.” He nodded to the other man before allowing him to leave.

“Ah, lovely, what a wonderful image for breakfast.” Sarah laughed a little and dared to let her guard down as she finally dug into the meal. “So is this going to become a thing? You send one of your guys to bring me here and we eat a meal together.”

“It could be.” John shrugged, faking nonchalance, but the look on his face betrayed him as a hopeful look flashed across him.

Sarah hid a smile behind her mug and finished it off, pushing her plate away. She leaned back, looking around at her surroundings.

“What’s your angle here John?”

“No angle. I just want to help you.”

“But why? I’m not the one who was prophesied, I’m not Joseph’s harbinger of the apocalypse. So why are you so invested in my safety and intent on freeing me from my sins?” There wasn’t a hint of mockery in her voice, she was genuinely curious.

John paused, his fingers lacing together as his brow creased in thought. The movement drew Sarah’s attention and she admired the tattoos that she could see decorating his hand. “I see my own sins in you,” He finally said, his blue eyes darting from her to the Book of Joseph on the table and then back. “I want to help you be free of them. They’re a burden I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

Sarah was shocked by the honesty in his voice and leaned across the table, to do what she wasn’t sure. Her hand hovered over his in hesitation for a moment, her eyes locked with the Herald before she pulled it back and stood from the chair. John followed her up with a look of apprehension.

“You said last time that you’d show me your plane hangar. Lead the way.” She was grateful that he didn’t try to continue their conversation but instead grinned in excitement and started off towards the hangar.

He held the door open for her to walk through and followed close behind her. Inside sat a sleek looking black plane, white Project logos decorating the wings and tail. John immediately launched into a detailed description of the type of plane and why he’d chosen it. As he went on and on, his voice getting more excited as he pointed out little things about the plane Sarah caught herself smiling. She couldn’t help but find it adorable. He reminded her of Nick the first time she asked him to teach her to fly and he’d spent nearly two hours fawning over Carmina before even teaching her the controls. If things were different she was sure John and Nick would be the best of friends.

Things weren’t different though, and the Peggie armed to the teeth in the corner served as a reminder of that. His eyes never left her as she followed John around the plane, his finger resting on the trigger. He made it very clear that one wrong move and she’d find herself dead on the floor.

John must have talked himself out because he finally finished his excited rant and lead her back outside, stopping by the steps to the front of the ranch. He seemed to be warring with himself over something, the crease in his brow was back. Finally, he snapped a finger and a nervous looking women scurried up, quiet words were exchanged and after a few angry looks cast Sarah’s way by the woman, she produced a set of keys from her pocket.

John took the keys and waved her away then turned to Sarah. “I told you I wasn’t going to take you for confession today.” He held the keys out to her, watching to see what she’d do. Sarah gave him a curious look and took them from her, weighing them in her hand for a minute. “There’s a truck down the road, you’re free to leave when you want.” He turned around and started to walk away, pointedly not looking back as if he didn’t want to see what she was going to do.

“Why?” Sarah called after her, still frozen to the ground. Why the fuck would he give her an escape? This had to be some sort of trap.

He turned and looked after her with soft eyes. “After our last encounter, I now understand that this is something I cannot force on you. When you’re ready to atone you’ll come to me.”

Sarah looked between the keys in her hand and John, still unsure. “I— thank you.” She took a few steps in the direction of the car before pivoting and striding to stand in front of him. “John,” He paused again and met her eyes. “I mean it, thanks. For this, for last night, for everything.” She gestured to her clean clothes and in the direction the breakfast they’d shared.

John smiled and without thinking Sarah touched his arm as she returned it. He looked down in slight shock before looking back up, his own hand coming up to wrap around the back of her head and pull her forehead against his. “I hope to see you again soon Sarah.” He pulled away, the smile not leaving his face, and walked back into the house. Sarah watched until the door had closed before she set off towards the car, ignoring the glares of every cultist standing outside.

She climbed into the car and drove towards the Ryes’, Rook had been sleeping on their couch for the past week and hopefully, she would still be there. It was well past time Sarah told her about John’s new interest in her.

#the devil has come #tdhc #deputy sarah lamb #sarah lamb #far cry 5 #ao3 #ao3 feed

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 years ago

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Chapter 7 - Call in the Calvary

Fandom: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed Characters: Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Jacob Seed, John Seed, Joseph Seed, Earl Whitehorse, Staci Pratt, Joey Hudson, Faith Seed, Nancy (Far Cry), Sharky Boshaw, Hurk Drubman Jr., Hurk Drubman Sr., Eli Palmer

Additional Tags: Writer's Month 2022, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Canon-Typical Violence, Pet Names, Threats of Violence, Threats, Eventual Smut, Sexual Content, Scars, Swearing, Jacob Seed is His Own Warning, Pillow Talk, Forced Marriage, Abduction, Non-Consensual Drug Use, mention of physical trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Older Man/Younger Woman, Mention of Cannibalism

Summary: Kit has her confession with the Baptist and the Hope County Sheriff's Department begins to notice that their newest hire hasn't shown up for work for a few days.

#fan fiction #far cry 5 #fc5 soulmate au #jacob seed x female deputy #jacob seed #john seed #joey hudson #earl whitehorse #staci pratt #kit cross

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socialdisease609 · 5 years ago

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Look, I made a Fem!Deputy x Hudson annnnddddd a Fem!Deputy x Faith fic lmao

Obviously only one can reign supreme in the end.

It's fucking long, guys lmao and it's still not done, but I cut it in half when I realized I had hit 10k words haha

Enjoy! Smut will be in both parts, if you were wondering lol

(Also, I have not abandoned my XMen fic lol I just couldn't focus with Far Cry in my head. Had to get it out lol)

#far cry 5 #deputy rook #female deputy x faith seed #female deputy far cry 5 #deputy hudson #joey hudson #wlw #female deputy x deputy hudson #rook x hudson #faith seed

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

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ancient names, pt. viii

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt viii: the space between us

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~6.9k (????)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Language, some “light” religious blasphemy (it’s Far Cry 5). Strong canon deviance from here on out. Some more PTSD symptoms/descriptions, though mild.

Notes: This chapter is like, nearly 2k longer than most others and folks, we got it all: identity crisis, PTSD symptoms, the irritability of being surrounded by Seed brothers, the irritability of perhaps not having eaten or had any real water for like two days, Jacob being a shithead, the "sees love interest in x state of undress" trope, YOU NAME IT. When does the fun stop?? We'll never know. tl;dr Elliot pops off like 6 times and honestly, who’s surprised anymore.

I hope you guys enjoy, it feels a bit like this chapter got away from me and not a lot of exciting stuff happens but it did feel important to have this lull of a chapter between all the action and drama. Thank you, as always, to my angel @starcrier the best proof-reader a girl could ask for an also a remarkably thoughtful and sweet friend who for some reasons decides to bless me with her presence to this day.

Thank you so much to everyone who comments, reads, reblogs, likes--all of it is always cherished by me, and it really does inspire me to keep going. <3

tagging my lover my life my shawty my wife @empirics bc she still wanna go here even when i babble at her nonstop

John had hoped that Elliot would go to sleep, but he knew the chances of that happening were slim to none and he wasn’t surprised when, out of what he could only assume was pure spite and anger, she stayed awake the entire drive to the compound. She stayed awake through John recounting what they had experienced of the cult already, what they knew about Faith; Elliot stayed oddly silent, in the way that swelled with the knowledge that she probably knew more than what she was letting on, but John didn’t push.

Jacob stuck to the side roads, the back roads, keeping them as far from the most populated areas as possible: and John could see that it drove Elliot batty, knowing they could just stop at Fall’s End. The radio’s gospel songs echoed eerily in the cab of the truck. After about five minutes of it playing—and, coincidentally, about two minutes after Elliot had smoked down the entirety of her first cigarette—she blurted out, “Can you turn that shit off?”

“Why?” Jacob asked evenly, and John passed a hand over his face tiredly as he heard Elliot take in a huge breath, as though she needed to make sure she properly had enough oxygen to spit her venom out.

As John began tiredly, “Deputy, mind yourself and close your mouth,” Elliot bulldozed him to say, “Because I’ve got a head wound that seems to get exacerbated by idiotic cultists,” their voices once again overlapping until their words strangled each other, Elliot glaring at John. He really wished she would stop looking so betrayed when he took the side of one of his brothers; it wasn’t as though she and him had ever really felt like a team , anyway.

Except for the ranch, dispatching of those Swedes in tandem. And except for when they’d been driving, and Elliot had actually looked happy for a second, even with their hands cuffed together. And except for—

Knock that shit off, John thought to himself, just in time for Joseph to say, “It seems as though your time together has made an improvement on your temperament, Deputy Honeysett.”

“What gave you that impression?” Elliot prompted, despite John’s not-so-subtle pleading look.

“Well,” Joseph continued, “we always do try to have faith , you know, especially in our brother. But considering the animalistic state you were delivered to him in, I would have expected much more poor behavior out of you.” A gentle smile tugged at his lips, an expression John could see reflected in the rearview mirror. “I like to see the impact he’s had on you.”

John couldn’t quite sort out how he felt about his brother’s words. He wanted to be proud; he wanted to think, yes, see? I’ve tamed her, the hellcat, look at her keeping her hands to herself. He wanted to, but there was a complicated feeling wound up in it, because he saw the way Joseph’s words struck Elliot, the way they collapsed the iron-clad battlements of her expression, the way they folded her up and crushed them in his proverbial fist. It was exactly what Joseph did; disarmed, unwound, pulled each tangling thread until they were so knotted all you could do was cut it out.

So yes, John felt an immediate burst of pride in his chest at Joseph’s words, and that pride was almost instantly wiped away at the look on Elliot’s face. It was as though she couldn’t stand the idea that he had made an impression on her, in any way. Disgust, he thought, fending off the insult of her abhorrence of his influence, hatred. She has always been spiteful and venomous, underneath it all.

“Just wait until you outgrow your usefulness, Seed,” Elliot managed out, her voice crackling with something violent. “You’re the only one I want to see dead before I hand you over to the government.”

Joseph rolled his window down. “I see that your manners still need some polishing, though.”

Elliot looked at John. Her gaze was hard, but he returned it nonetheless, expectantly. She asked, “Proud of yourself, are you?”

“Elliot,” John began, moderating his voice so that he didn’t sound as pleased as he felt (and of course he didn’t know why he was doing that; there was no reason he should work so hard to preserve Elliot’s feelings, and yet… ) so that she wouldn’t be right about him, “it doesn’t…”

“Shut up,” the blonde snapped. Her voice rattled, with anger and with the sick inside of her. She pressed herself back into the corner of the bench seat in the back; she looked like she wanted to melt into the truck’s frame. “I’m fucking tired of your voice.”

“Watch your mouth,” Jacob said from the front seat.

“You shouldn’t be smoking,” John interjected tartly, feeling himself scramble for something—anything—that felt like normal between them again; the normal that had happened with being forced into each other’s company. “Not until you get better. You still sound sick.”

“ You got those cigarettes for me,” Elliot quipped, vitriolic, “and what the fuck isn’t clear about shut up?”

As soon as the words left her mouth Jacob pushed on the brakes, hard, the movement slamming the back of her head against the window in the back of the truck. The blonde let out a volley of swears, her hand flying to the back of her head instantly.

Jacob said, his voice prickling with hostility, “I told you to watch your mouth.”

“Jacob—” John began, having braced himself against the driver’s seat, but he could already feel Elliot seething.

“You fuckhead ,” Elliot bit out, spiteful as ever, her fingers coming away sticky and crimson. “You absolute piece of—”

“Jacob,” Joseph murmured, “let’s not waste time on the road.”

“Elliot, stop squirming,” John insisted, his voice more urgent now. “You’re going to get blood everywhere.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it inconvenient for you that your brother reopened my fucking head wound ?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” John growled. “Stop squirming.”

His voice came out more authoritative than he had intended, wound up-tight and hard by the antagonizing nature of Elliot and Jacob’s exchange. The blonde’s jaw clenched, but she stilled; his hands went to her face, tilting her head so that he could take a look at the wound. Reopened, yes, but only just.

“Don’t move,” John said firmly. He could feel Joseph’s eyes on him, and he thought he knew what he was thinking—that once again, he had reaffirmed Joseph’s words, that he had made some kind of an impression on her, that had he told Elliot two days ago to stand still so he could look at a wound that she probably would have sunk her teeth into his arm like a wild animal.

“Didn’t grab any bandages when we were at the ranch, huh?” John asked, trying at something closer to civil.

“I wasn’t thinking particularly beyond bare necessities,” Elliot replied dryly, her voice muffled by her chin tucked against her chest. John made a noise of agreement—he hadn’t thought to grab any, either, having anticipated they’d get the fuck out and be at the compound by now—and sighed a little.

“Well, let’s rip your shirt.”

“Why aren’t we ripping your shirt?” Elliot prompted, and John blinked at her incredulously.

“Do you have any idea how much this shirt costs?”

“Oh, you pretentious little manchild —”

“Fine!”

John didn’t rip his shirt. Instead, he peeled the shirt off, shrugging out of it and folding it to press the gathering of fabric to the wound. Elliot straightened back up into a sitting position, reaching up; her fingers fluttered over John’s, almost shyly, replacing the pressure of his hand with her own so that he could pull away and let her hold it herself.

“You should have just ripped it,” Elliot said, her eyes flickering over him before she caught herself and looked away. Were John not convinced she was running a fever, he might have thought he saw her blushing. All the same, he felt the corners of his mouth tick in something close to a smile.

“It’s easier to scrub blood out than it is to stitch it back together.”

“That’s our John,” Joseph acquiesced from the front sagely. “Ever-giving.” He paused, tilting his head to peer at Elliot and John in the back, “All we ask for is a little civility, deputy. After all, it is our sister that’s been kidnapped.”

Elliot replied, “You seem very concerned about that.” And then, “By the way, they have Joey too, which wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t pass her off to this idiot,” and she jerked her thumb at John.

“If they wanted to kill Faith, they would have already,” Jacob replied, hitting the bridge to the island and flipping the cruise control on as he blithely ignored her comment about Hudson. “Since she was alive when the two of you saw her. Isn’t that right?”

Elliot muttered something of an agreement, as though Jacob were not saying the things she had already said, as though she so desperately did not want to agree with him about something that she would rather choke on her own words than say it out loud.

“We have some search parties sent out,” Jacob continued, his steely gaze sweeping across the road as he flicked the turn signal on—certainly, pure habit at this point. “To pin them down. Once we have them located, we can work on getting Faith back and wiping them out.”

The blonde beside him was quiet, now. As Jacob pulled the truck into the compound—which looked nothing short of a ghost town, now—John glanced over at her again, nursing the wound with his shirt. She looked only tired, as though she’d spent all of her energy in just this car ride alone.

Jacob put the truck into park and turned it off; as they filed out of the car, John swept his gaze over the compound; everything seemed peaceful, as if nothing were happening, a low breeze drifting over the houses and church while the early afternoon sun drenched it in a harsh, unforgiving light. Though it was quiet, the stillness of the compound unsettled him, and the knowledge that many of their followers had been tucked away in the bunkers for safekeeping made his skin crawl.

“John.” Joseph’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Why don’t you take our dear deputy to one of the guesthouses to get settled in? There’s no reason why she can’t rest while we’re getting the radios set up to contact her...” His voice trailed off as he seemed to search for a word, and then eventually mustered up, “Friends.

“I’m not your dear anything,” Elliot said slamming the truck door behind her. Joseph’s lips quirked in a small, muted smile, his eyes beneath the yellow lenses of his glasses nearly unreadable.

“Not yet,” Joseph relented.

John's hand reached Elliot’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said, shaking the way Joseph’s pinning gaze unsettled him, just a little, like there was nothing that was happening that his brother wasn’t cataloging for later.

“Don’t touch me,” she muttered, shrugging his hand off of her but following him nonetheless. John could hear his brothers exchanging words in low voices on their way into the church, and that little sting in his chest lingered, more firmly: the idea that Joseph was pawning off responsibility to him to make him feel like he was doing something important remained.

Elliot pushed the door to a guest house open. “You really just took your whole shirt off instead of ripping a little piece, huh?” she said. It might have been her attempt at casual conversation, but John couldn’t say for sure. It was always so hard to tell what was going to trip that hairpin trigger into enemy territory again.

“It’s Versace, Elliot.”

“Oh, boo .” She pulled it away from her head. “I think you just wanted a reason to be shirtless in front of me.”

John blinked. He didn’t know what to say to that, the most friendly, nearly flirty thing Elliot Honeysett had said to him in many years—which was saying a lot, considering the last time they had spoken in a friendly manner, she’d hardly said more than a stammer of a sentence to him before Joey Hudson swept her away.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” he managed out after a moment, taking the shirt back from her as he got his mental footing back. “I saw you looking. No need to be shy about it, though—we’ve already established you find me handsome.”

Elliot scoffed, but he saw her face flood with red just before she turned away, pacing to the bathroom at the back of the house. “Found, once, years ago,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t let it inflate your ego, Seed.”

He called after her, “Too late,” and she slammed the bathroom door; the very definitive sound of the shower running echoed in the empty house, and John exhaled a small breath in relief.

As he inspected the bloodstain that had gathered on the front of the shirt, he felt a pleasant little thrill in his chest; a stain was a small price to pay for having made Elliot squirm her way out of that conversation, he supposed, and he remembered the way Joseph had said, I like to see the impact he’s had on you.

Not so wild now, John thought, are you, hellcat?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The benefits of a hot shower were never to be underestimated.

Though Elliot had gone into her shower feeling bedraggled, worn down, furious, and more than unseated—both by Joseph’s assertion that there was a yet to be had with the friendliness of their relations, but also by John’s casual confidence in her attraction to him.

She wasn’t attracted to him. John had held her under like he was going to drown her, really drown her. He’d wanted to tattoo wrath right on her chest.

Elliot’s fingers fluttered over the spot where John’s had dragged, just a day or so ago now, as he said, I think it’ll fit nicely right here, don’t you think? Maybe just over her heart. The same place dream-John had touched, the same place her skin had been burning when flower-eyed John, spilling petals from his mouth, had gripped her face in his hands.

They were getting mixed up in her head now, all of these Johns: the John she had spooned for warmth with in the forest, the John that hadn’t complained when she anchored her fingers into his arm for steadiness, the John that held each side of her face while her body and mind split, somewhere in the middle, bringing her back down before she slipped away permanently; they all wove and intermingled themselves with the others that she knew, the Johns that kidnapped her friends or kidnapped her or held her under or leered at her in a bar when she was young.

It was almost— almost —romantic, the kind of ferocious dichotomy she would have read in a book somewhere, sometime, in a place where she still had the leisure to do something like that: read a book, take a nap, browse television channels.

Almost, but not quite, because there was and could never be something romantic about John Seed.

Elliot startled out of her thoughts when someone knocked on the bathroom door, the sound echoing in the small bathroom much louder than she thought the knocks would have actually been.

“You’re not climbing through the window right now, are you?” John’s voice came through the door. Elliot quickly wiped the amusement she felt creeping into her face and ducked her head under the water, the heat of it stinging her wound in a sort of catharsis.

“If I was,” Elliot called back, “what would you do?”

“Very funny, Elliot.” And then: “I’d probably kick this door down.”

“How very caveman.”

“Well, you know—desperate times. Plus, I hear women like that kind of thing.”

She rubbed her face with both hands to stop the smile tugging at her mouth. She had to keep focused: she had to remember the way John had practically glowed, radioactive with pride at Joseph’s praise that he’d made an impact on her, that he was changing her. For the better, they thought. For them. Elliot had hardly seen John around his brothers, but the short amount of time that she had (and wasn’t drugged out of her mind) it had become very clear to her that the relationship between them wasn’t as easy to swallow as she would have thought.

But it was easy, when she was given the luxury of a hot shower that molded all of her muscles into relaxation, to feel like they were on a team. It was easy—especially when John had handled her so carefully, like his hands hadn’t inflicted pain on numerous other people, like he hadn’t carved sin after sin into flesh as a macabre brand. Easy, Elliot thought, willing herself to turn off the hot water, because she couldn’t stay in a shower forever. Easy to forget. I can’t forget what’s happened.

“Any chance you’ve got some jeans out there?” Elliot said, stepping out of the shower and finding a clean (clean?) towel hanging; she didn’t have much time to be picky, so she wrapped it around herself and squeezed some of the water out of her hair. Outside, she could hear John stomping around, fumbling through things, and once she’d gotten mostly dried off she opened the door.

“Oh,” John said, like he hadn’t been expecting her, standing just a foot away from the door and holding a collection of clothes in his arms. Jeans, it looked like, and a few shirts. His own shirt was back on, the dark bloodstain turning the navy blue nearly black on the front.

“Oh?” Elliot prompted. She held her hand out for the clothes while the other kept the towel in place.

“It’s just that you look...” He paused, and then handed her the clothes, regarding her almost warily. “You look—”

And he stopped again, and Elliot thought, well go on, spit it out, then, her eyebrows arching upward expectantly.

“Nice,” he said after a moment. As though catching himself, he amended, “Normal, I mean.”

Elliot’s expression deadpanned. “I am normal, John. You’re the one that’s part of a cult, remember?”

He squinted his eyes at her. The spell was broken; the clock had struck midnight; he was no longer enchanted with her, numerous days of grime scrubbed off of her body.

Rather than argue the logistics of his family’s venture being a cult or not, John said, “Change quick, it shouldn’t take long for them to get the radio ready.”

“Yes, boss,” Elliot replied demurely, mimicking the words he’d used when she’d told him to shut up and be a good blanket. John’s eyes flashed to her face and then away, but she didn’t spend too long trying to parse out what his expression was; she closed the door and busied herself with shimmying into the clothes, leftovers from Eden’s Gate members, it seemed. Relatively clean, too, considering she usually saw peggies in various states of disarray and neglect.

After she’d pulled the rest of her clothes on, the white shirt—clearly meant for a man—nearly swallowing her up, she kicked the old, dirty clothes out of the way and opened the door.

“Would you have really kicked the door down if I was climbing through the window?” Elliot asked, scrunching her hair. The back of her head throbbed, but in a pleasant way; the wound had been thoroughly rinsed, and though it still ached from Jacob’s foot slamming the brakes, she didn’t think it was concussive. Yet.

John leaned against the door, regarded her with a dry expression. “Why?” he asked. She opened the door from the “guest house”—it was really more a bunkhouse than anything—and shrugged.

“I hear women like that kind of thing.”

A swift, easy breeze drifted through the doorway as Elliot stepped outside, taking one moment—just one moment—to close her eyes, and breathe, and think, I’m so close, Joey, to rescuing you. I’m so close, I swear I’m on my way to you. Please, just hold out for a little longer.

“—than woman.” John’s voice rattled around in her head, and she opened her eyes looking at him over her shoulder.

“What was that?” she asked.

He sidled up behind her, his hands in his pockets, and bent just a little at the waist so he could say into her ear, “I said, it’s a good thing you’re more devil than woman,” and against the wishes of her mind, the skin of her neck prickled with goosebumps.

She scrunched her shoulder up to her ear to fend him off. “That’s right, John,” she replied evenly, “I am a devil, and don’t you forget it.”

Elliot saw movement out of the corner of her eye, her body stiffening a little before she turned her gaze and saw that it was Joseph, standing at the steps of the church.

“Children,” he called, his voice welling with some kind of emotion that Elliot couldn’t quite pin down—perhaps amusement, or something else. “Are you done? The radio is ready for you, deputy.”

“Born done with this one,” Elliot replied, feeling the small smile that had been fighting its way onto her face slip from her features. There was just something about Joseph that put her on edge; every second she spent in her presence reminded her of the way he’d looked at her, that night in the church, when he’d said, God will not let you take me.

Like she was the only person in the room. Like she was the only person that had mattered.

Elliot liked to think that she was not the kind of person that would be so easily won over by a cult—but she also knew that they looked for people like her, people with a history of trauma, people who had fewer parents than a child ought to have, people whose one functioning parent was only barely functioning and only crested the standard when they had a few drinks in them. She was exactly the kind of person that Joseph nurtured, cradled, forgave, and she thought that for a second in that church, that night, she had thought about how nice it would be to feel that. Once.

But she had a family, and people who cared about her and relied on her and would miss her. Like Joey.

With long strides, she crossed the small courtyard to the church and stopped in front of Joseph, waiting for him to move aside so that she could go in.

“Feeling better?” Joseph asked her mildly, and when he didn’t move aside she shouldered past him. “You look like one of us.”

“Peachy,” Elliot replied flatly; she purposefully ignored his last words, rinsing them away by focusing on the task at hand. The inside of the church was dim, with only the Eden’s Gate window at the back. Her stomach dropped unpleasantly; a surge of panic washed through her, and she was suddenly reminded of the feeling of Eden’s Gate members shoving past her, watching her through fringes of dark, dirty hair, and Joseph, hands outstretched, waiting.

And John, prowling in the background, ever a predator waiting for his prey.

Joseph brushed past her, walking down between the rows of seating to where Jacob had set up a table, the radio crackling as he adjusted some settings on it. Elliot pushed her way down as well, hating that her steps faltered, that Jacob’s piercing eyes caught every step that didn’t quite hit the way that she wanted it to. Behind her, she heard the easy, confident cadence of John’s steps, the door to the outside shutting.

For the first time since getting in the truck, Elliot felt like she was in the belly of the beast. If only, a voice inside of her said, if only you had known this then, instead of now.

“Well,” Jacob said, “are you going to call them or not?”

She snatched the radio out of his outstretched hand, her heart hammering in her chest. So close; she was so close. If she wanted to, she could tell Jerome and the others where she was, flush the Seeds out well and good once and for all.

But she couldn’t, because she still needed them. At least, she needed one of them, to get Joey back.

Elliot adjusted the settings on the radio to the proper channels, swallowing thickly, and hit the button on the side. Joseph lingered under the window, a few feet away, his back to her; behind her, she heard John’s steps pacing closer to her.

The radio clicked, static buzzing patiently on the end. Her mouth felt dry. “Jerome?” she asked, tentatively into the static. “Jerome, do you—read? It’s me.” And then, quickly and feeling like an idiot, “Elliot, I mean. It’s me, Elliot.”

Silence stretched on the other side for just a moment. Then, the static crackled, and a familiar voice broke over the radio, “Elliot? It’s so good to hear your voice again. Thank God, we were—” Jerome’s voice broke up a little, and then picked up, “—about you. Where are you? Did you get away from John?”

Relief immediately flooded her system, the sensation almost painful; her heart thudded painfully against her chest, and she gripped the table with her free hand to keep herself steady.

“I—” Elliot paused. Her gaze flickered to John, who now lingered to the right of her; Jacob loomed to the left, and Joseph, ever the pinnacle, ever the point of the pyramid, just in front of her. The closest to heaven.

John’s gaze weighed down on her, pinning her, so that instinctively she wanted to squirm right out of it.

“—I’m okay, don't worry about me," she said after a moment. "I'm on my way to get Joey. Jerome, I need you to listen to me."

“Tell me where you are,” Jerome insisted, his voice crackling through the radio with urgency. “We’ll help you get Hudson back. It’s been quiet, here.”

John rolled his eyes, barely veiling his contempt. Elliot shot him a look and cleared her throat, trying to ignore the way that the pastor’s words clutched and pulled at her heart. Jerome’s voice was like a balm to her nerves; she realized, quite suddenly, how much she actually missed being around people who weren’t the Seeds, or members of Eden’s Gate—someone who actually cared about her.

“Please listen to me,” she tried again. “There’s someone else here. A different group, a new—cult. They’re here and I think they’re going to wipe everyone out. I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but you need to take everyone out of Fall’s End and get them out of here, okay? Everyone, and just evacuate as fast as you can.”

“What? Elliot, what are you talking about? ” Jerome’s voice faltered for a moment, and then he said, “Please don’t try and Atlas this thing, deputy.”

Elliot pressed her hand to her forehead. When she lifted her head, Jacob’s eyes were fixed on her, and he said, “Two minutes, deputy.”

Of course, she thought, both exhausted and infuriated. This fucking Darwinian psycho wouldn’t want to give them a fighting chance. "There wasn't a fucking time limit on this radio call before."

"You're calling the people that want us dead," Jacob deadpanned. "One minute."

Elliot wanted to say that not even a full minute had passed, but she knew better. She bit down on her cheek until she tasted cooper, trying to refocus her attention.

“There’s no time, Jerome,” she insisted, talking faster now as the proverbial clock ticked down. “Take everyone from Fall’s End and leave, okay? I’m getting Joey and we’ll meet up with you a town over, or further way—just don’t stop driving. I can’t explain anymore. I have to go. Jerome?”

There was no answer on the other end for a minute; she could picture Jerome and Mary May arguing back and forth about what they needed to do for this, for her, and her heart ached a little in her chest. Finally, his voice crackled through: “I hear you, but Elliot—let one of us come and help. We’ll get you and Joey out of here.”

“Give Mary May a hug for me, okay? And get Dutch, and everyone, and get the fuck out of here.”

“Elliot.” Jerome’s voice had changed. Her hand had gone to turn the radio off, but it stilled. “Tell me you’re alright and mean it.”

It wasn’t his Resistance Business voice, anymore, and nor was it his pastor voice. It was his dad voice, firm and unrelenting, but not unkind. It welled with gentle affection.

Elliot felt her vision wobble a little. It was embarrassing, that Jerome could disarm her this far away, without seeing her or knowing what the last two days had been. She swallowed thickly and ducked her head against her chest a little when her breath shuddered in her chest.

“We’re worried about you, kid. All of us.”

“Deputy,” Jacob said, impatient, and Jerome continued, “You can tell me if it’s not okay.”

“I’m alright,” she managed out into the radio, willing the tears back away, back from where they had come from. “I’m alright, Jerome, I promise. Please get everyone out of here.”

She put the radio back down on the table and switched it off; she exhaled sharply, once, through her nose. Her chest felt tight, and her body ached, every muscle and tendon and joint in her body feeling deeply bruised. She thought, for one awful, terrible moment, that she might actually start crying right here in front of all of the men she least wanted to do that in front of.

“I guess we’ll see if they make it out,” Jacob said, his voice painstakingly casual and clipped all at once. Elliot felt something hot and sticky flare in her chest, like all of the oxygen had been sucked right out of the air around her. "And if they don't, well—probably means they weren't ever meant to."

She didn’t want to think about the Resistance not making it out; she didn’t want to think about the slow, oozing creep of the cult sidling up on them, of Ase’s fingers on their faces, lovingly planting their gutted corpses with fresh, vibrant blooms.

“Shut the fuck up,” she managed out, her voice wobbling. Jacob’s mouth curved at the corner into something like a wicked smile; he might have been infuriated by her petulance, she thought, if her voice wasn’t thick and wet with unshed tears. She straightened up, digging her nails into her palms, thinking, I could kill him right now, wrap my hands right around that big neanderthal neck and strangle the life right out of him.

But she couldn’t, even if at that moment she really wanted to, because talking to Jerome for even that short time had reminded her about what it felt like to have people around her that cared about her; it had reminded her about being around people that she trusted, that trusted her, that shared the same beliefs. That wanted to take care of her.

She had almost forgotten that, being handcuffed to John Seed for almost two days straight.

“We’ll pray for their safe departure, of course,” Joseph said. His words echoed, tinny and hollow, in her head. She blinked furiously. Elliot was only vaguely aware of John pacing back across the room and saying something to her, but she couldn’t hear what it was; not really.

I am so tired, she thought, over the sound of John talking to her. I am so tired, and I want to go home.

“When will your peggies be back?” she asked, interrupting the sound of Jacob and John blustering back and forth. Joseph paused, and then cocked his head at Jacob expectantly. She waited for one more beat and then said, louder and with more fervent impatience, “I said, when will your little cockroaches be back from finding Joey and Faith?”

Jacob replied, bitingly, “Within the next few hours. They’re going to pin down a location and get back to us.”

“Great.” Elliot turned on her heel, marching herself down the same hallway that just a little over a week ago, she had been walking down with Burke and Whitehorse. “Fuck off until then, you piece of shit.”

It felt like her lungs might burst, or her heart might beat right out of her chest, before she made it out of the stifling darkness of the church. She pushed the door open and hurried outside to take a lungful of fresh air, air unpopulated and unshared with Seed boys.

I’m just one girl. The thought was a desperate one, one that turned over and over again in her mind. That these things were just happening to her, that she had no agency in her life, that it might always be like this. Forever. I’m just one girl.

Elliot walked to the bunkhouse, pushing each step into the dirt in the hopes of feeling more grounded, each breath of air slowly bringing her back to the earth. When she made it inside, she closed the door quickly behind her and paced, rubbing her face. The bunkhouse no longer felt surprisingly clean. It only served as a reminder of where she was, where she wasn’t, where she might never go again.

She pushed her hands against her face until spiderwebs crawled behind her eyelids. They blistered, red fractals of light swimming in her non-vision. She was only a girl, and she was alone—no family and no friends nearby to help, and that was supposed to be good; if Jerome listened to her, they'd be out of Hope County within a few hours.

There was no more room for error. Fall's End evacuating meant there was no rescue party coming, in spite of her words. It meant that she was really only going to get one shot at getting in and getting out, for good. Get Joey, get Boomer, get out. Period.

The door clicked open. Footsteps echoed against the hollow wooden flooring. It was John; she could tell by the way he walked. “Elliot.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, not a how are you, but something else, something that Elliot didn’t know what he meant and or what he was saying or what he thought to gain from it. Did he ever do anything that didn't have any personal gain for him?

“John,” Elliot said, her hands pressed into her face, “can you just leave? I am so tired of hearing your voice.”

“Elliot,” John said again, “take a breath.”

“I am breathing, you fuckhead,” she snapped viciously, turning to face him—John, in his stupid fucking designer shirt, his head cocked to the side as he watched her, the venom in her voice landing but not hitting the way it should have. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone? Really, truly alone? Like, for fucking good, unless by some godforsaken miracle your insane brothers don’t kill me as soon as I’ve served the purpose of fetching Faith back.”

“I do," John replied angrily, "and they don’t want to—”

“Oh fuck off, John.” She raked her fingers through her hair. There was a nasty, wicked monster, crawling up from through her, fingers sliding between the slats of her ribs to get a good grip. “You should see yourself whenever Joseph says anything. You practically fall over to kiss the ground he fucking walks on, and for what? For him to give you a little pat on the head? You’d do absolutely anything he asked you to. You’re fucking pathetic.”

That hit the way she wanted to. She saw the hurt slide across John’s face, and then the anger, a power-point presentation on How To Make One Man Hate You.

“You have a lot of nerve, deputy,” John bit out (and she didn’t miss the way he no longer was using her name, like he wanted to distance himself from her), “to talk to me like that, given that you would probably be lying dead in a field with flowers coming out of your eyes without me. Not to mention that you need us to get your little friend Hudson back—”

“It’s your fucking fault!”

She felt the rasp in her throat, the claws of sickness shredding her delicate insides as her voice flexed painfully in volume. John was staring at her, and she thought, I have to stop yelling, I have to stop, this is just what they want, for me to lose control, but she couldn’t, the words welling up inside of her, wrecked and vicious, and she felt like all of the blood had fled from her hands and feet; she was ice, now, frigid and unyielding.

John’s mouth twisted, like he was shaping the words he wanted to say before he said them. He started, less heated this time, “Elliot—”

“It’s your fault,” she interrupted, clenching her fists at her sides until her hands itched and burned with the intense need for circulation. “It’s your fault—I should—I should be leaving with Fall’s End and leaving this absolute fucking nightmare behind, or—or maybe that shouldn’t be happening at all because this is my fucking home and you and your stupid family took that from me, and I fucking hate you, John Seed, John Duncan, whatever the fuck your name is, whoever the fuck you are, I don’t care and I hate you!”

He stepped forward, his hands lifted, like he was going to touch her; perhaps rest his hands on her shoulders, take her face the way he’d grown so accustomed to doing when her breathing shallowed and her eyes unfocused. But she pushed his arms out of her immediate vision, and while infuriatingly he didn’t get out of her space she still bit out, crushing the words on their way past her teeth, “Don’t fucking touch me, John,” and his hands dropped back to his sides.

She tried to ignore the strange, fleeting disappointment: as though she had been anticipating his grounding touch, as though she had wanted it, her body betraying her words and her head.

No more, she thought through the haze in her mind, no more of that.

He shifted on his feet. “You’re tired,” he said after a moment, which sounded not like the thing that he wanted to say but instead the thing that he decided was safe. “You should rest. The search parties will be back soon, and you’ll need to be at full capacity.”

Elliot stared at the bloodstain on his shirt. It felt like all of her insides had been scooped out, emptying her; her stomach twisted, both with anxiety and hunger.

“Yeah,” she replied numbly. “Alright, John.”

He turned on his heel, walking through the door to the bunkhouse and letting it swing shut behind him. The room felt colder without another human body in there; emptier, lonelier. Elliot sat herself down on the wooden floor and pushed her face into her knees.

This wasn’t supposed to be me. Her ears rang, her heart thudding painfully in her chest, a black stone falling over and over until her ribs bruised and cracked. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

She closed her eyes tight, arms looped around her knees, pressed against the wall of the bunkhouse, and willed herself to sleep.

#far cry 5 #john seed/deputy #john seed/ofc #far cry fic #ch: john seed #fic: ancient names #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #ch: elliot honeysett

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shan282-ao3 · 5 years ago

Text

Bridges Ch1

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Far Cry 5 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Jacob Seed/Original Female Character(s), Faith Seed/Original Male Character(s) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), John Seed, Jacob Seed, Joseph Seed, Faith Seed, Staci Pratt, Joey Hudson, Earl Whitehorse, Cameron Burke, Charles Lindsey, Virgil Minkler Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Eden’s Gate Cult, Police Procedural, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Fluff, no beta we die like men

Summary: Detective Sarah Lamb did not ask for a new partner nor did she want one. John Seed has graciously volunteered his services to solve the murder of a coworker at the law firm he works and she doesn’t trust him for a second. If she has to listen to his disappointment in her taste in music one more time she might actually crash them into the embankment.

“I don’t need a new partner, sir. I’ve got Pratt.” Sarah crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

“Pratt is Hudson’s partner and he’s still on desk duty after that stunt he pulled last week.” Whitehorse shot her a harsh glare as she covered her mouth to hide her amused look.

“What about Tessa? She could still be my partner.”

“Rook is in Vice now, you’re still Homicide.” Whitehorse pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look, you’re a good detective Lamb, but you’d be better with a partner. I’m not saying I’ll babe assigning you one tomorrow, but in the next few weeks I’ll find a candidate to fill Rook’s spot on the team and they’re going to be your partner.”

Sarah glared at her shoes for a second, fighting back the urge to continue complaining. “Yes, sir.” She pushed her chair back and stood to leave. “I’ll see myself out if there’s nothing else.”

Whitehorse shook his head and waved her away. Sarah carefully closed the door and made her way across the bullpen, throwing herself into her desk chair.

“Bad news?” Staci asked, wheeling his chair over to her desk.

“He’s making me get a new partner.” She sighed and pulled a casefile from the pile on her desk. She’d closed it that morning, the coroner had ruled it a suicide in the end, so she just had to finish up the paperwork.

“I thought Rook was your partner?” He was tapping on the edge of her desk with a couple of pens.

“She’s moved to Vice.” She didn’t bother looking up, smacking his pens away with an irritated huff.

“Since fucking when?”

“Since last week dumbass. Do you not pay attention to anything that happens here?” Sarah finally peeled her eyes from her paper and gave Pratt a questioning look.

“I’m on desk duty, Sarah, I’ve been playing the Bioshock games for the last week. I just finished Infinite.” He had a proud grin on his face and Sarah couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.

“How’d you even get that on the computer without Whitehorse throwing a fit?”

“He’s Whitehorse, the guy would still have a rotary phone in his office is the department didn’t make him upgrade.” Staci snickered and Sarah joined him, ducking her head behind her computer when Whitehorse threw open the door to his office.

“Pratt.” He barked, Staci muttered an apology and wheeled himself back to his desk. He shot Staci a disapproving look as he walked past his desk, stopping in front of Sarah’s desk. “Lamb you’ve got a case. Take Hudson with you.”

“What is it?” Sarah asked as she stood from her desk, pulling on her jacket.

“Lawyer at Sutherland Wells was murdered, Eliot Horne. His assistant found the body.” Whitehorse informed her, giving her the address. Sarah nodded and grabbed her keys, leaving the station with Hudson at her side.

Sarah flashed her badge to the posted uniform as she ducked under the crime scene. She walked down the hallway towards the crime scene, glancing at the witnesses that stood around waiting to be interviewed.

“Find the assistant and get her statement. I’ll go check out the body.” Sarah ordered Hudson, slipping between a pair of uniforms standing guard at the doorway to the office of the murdered associate. Sarah slowed when she spotted Tessa studying the crime scene.

“Rook? What’s vice doing here?” She questioned, her territorial side kicking in. This was a homicide, no way was she letting vice steal this case from her, even if it was Tess.

“Burke sent me, he’s got this theory that,” Tessa trailed off and shook her head, “Well it doesn’t matter. This doesn’t look like a vice case so I’ll leave it in your hands. Send me a copy of the autopsy if there’s evidence of drugs.”

Sarah nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes in slight distrust. Tessa smiled and excused herself, promising to text her later so they could get together for drinks. Sarah waited until she was out of sight before turning back to the crime scene, her crime scene.

She carefully stepped around the evidence markers of the floor, making sure not to taint anything or get in the way of the CSI team. She stopped in front of the body and looked towards the coroner, Dr. Lindsey, as he examined the victim.

“First thoughts?” Sarah questioned, pulling her notebook from her pocket and writing down her own first impressions of the scene.

“He was stabbed.”

“Obviously.” Sarah deadpanned, looking up from her notebook to examine the body herself.

The man was still sat in his desk, the blood on his clothes and the floor had dried a while ago. A pair of scissors stuck out of his chest, a dozen more stab wounds around it and in his stomach. His previously crisp suit had been torn into ribbons, his once white shirt stained red.

“Based on the degree of vigor, factoring in room temp, I’d say the time of death is somewhere between 10 and 1am.” Lindsey stated, leaning back on his heels, Sarah nodded and noted it in her book. “I’ll be able to give you a more precise time once I have him on the table.”

“Thanks, Lindsey.” Sarah gave him a stiff smile before taking a turn around the room to study more of the crime scene.

Bloody shoe prints lead to the door then stopped, Sarah suspected the killer had noticed the trail they were leaving and taking their shoes off. She ordered one of the CSI guys to sweep the hallway and neighboring offices a second time in the hopes that maybe they’d get lucky. There was blood splatter across the desk and window which wasn’t particularly odd given the violence of the stabbing.

Outside the office, Sarah searched around for Hudson, finally finding her at the receptionist’s desk interviewing the woman sitting there. She tapped her shoulder and beckoned her over.

“The assistant?”

“No, I already got her. I told her she could go home and we’d call her in if we needed her. Now I’m just going through everyone.” Hudson answered and gestured to the hallway. “He was apparently close with another lawyer, a John Duncan. They got into a fight over a case a few days ago, it ended with threats from both parties.”

“Thanks, I’ll go talk to him.” With the help of one of the other officers there, she was pointed towards the correct office. The door was closed so Sarah knocked before opening it. “John Duncan?” She asked, stepping into the office.

The man in question was hunched over his desk reading over a very thick file. “John Seed actually. I’ll be with you in a moment, detective,” He didn’t bother looking up from the file, Sarah glared at him and stepped completely into the room.

She didn’t stop until her legs knocked against the edge of his desk, crossing her arms and looking down at him. When John still didn’t look away from his file, Sarah reached forward and pulled it from his desk before he could stop her, flipping it shut and dropping it onto one of the chairs facing his desk.

John glared up at her, crossing his arms and leaning back. The room was silent as they both stared each other down, only breaking eye contact so he could look her up and down a few times.

“What can I help you with, detective?” He asked with mock curiosity as if he didn’t already know why she was there.

“Your coworker was murdered, Mr. Seed, and according to witnesses you had an altercation with Mr. Horne earlier this week.” Sarah pulled her notebook from her pocket again, waiting to write down his statement.

“Verbal altercation.” He corrected her, a slightly smug look on look on his face. “Eliot and I simply had a difference of opinions on the case we’re both working.”

“Way I heard it, it was more than just a difference of opinions. Threats were made so it doesn’t look too good for you right now.”

“Yes, he threatened to get me fired if I didn’t go along with his approach to the case. So I threatened to expose his affairs with his assistant and our receptionist, I’m sure Ms. Watts and Ms. Vasquez left that out of their statements.” He leaned back in his chair, his voice dripping with all the charisma of a lawyer of his fortitude.

Sarah wasn’t an idiot, she’d heard his name in the news before. He was young, handsome, and had been winning quite a few cases lately so his name came up in law circles quite often. The DA’s office had apparently been eyeing him to fill the position left by their last ADA but he’d politely turned them down for Sutherland Wells.

“Do you have an alibi for last night, Mr. Seed?” Sarah asked, tapping her pen against the notebook.

“Yes,” He leaned forward with a sly smile and launched into the details of the party he’d been at the night before. Sarah rolled her eyes but wrote it all down, not at all impressed. This was going to be a long interview.

Sarah looked up from her computer as Whitehorse called her into his office. As she walked towards his office she prepared to defend herself for not having any leads on Horne case. It’d been two days since she’d visited the crime scene and without any concrete suspects, she was just waiting on the coroner’s report. John Seed had been at the top of her list for all of an hour before his alibi was confirmed.

She stepped into the office, shutting the door behind her. Someone else sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and she assumed it was a member of the brass there to chew her out as well.

“Sir I’m just waiting on the Horne autopsy, I swear it’s still my top priority.” Sarah quickly said, wanting to get ahead of the lecture she was dreading.

“That’s not why I called you in, though I am disappointed in the lack of suspects.” He gestured for Sarah to take a seat in the remaining empty chair and clasped his hands. She sat down and glanced sideways at the man beside her, her eyes widening when she recognized John Seed, smug grin and all.

“Lamb, you remember our chat about getting you a new partner?”

“Yes. What is Mr. Seed doing here?” She quickly asked, in no mood to beat around the bushes.

“He is very invested in finding the killer of Mr. Horne and has offered his services as a consultant, for free.”

“I’m always looking for ways to help, Captain.” John offered, he actually sounded sincere but Sarah didn’t believe it for a second.

“What does this have to do with me?” She asked slowly, already dreading where this conversation was going.

“He’s going to be your partner on this case.”

“Excuse me?” Sarah looked between the two in shock. “Captain he’s a civilian. He’s not cleared to go out there with me. Besides he was a suspect originally.”

“I was cleared immediately.” John pointed out and Sarah sent him a cold glare.

“He’s already been cleared by Mayor Minkler and the brass. It’s just a temporary situation, Lamb, until this case gets solved.” Whitehorse left no room for objections, silence Sarah when she opened her mouth to speak. Sarah sat there in shocked silence for a few more minutes as Whitehorse went over some of the finer details, abruptly standing when she was dismissed.

She stiffly walked back to her desk, not making eye contact with anyone, and dropped gracelessly into her chair.

“Fuck this.” She muttered and pulled the Horne casefile from her desk. John’s tattooed hand appeared in her vision and she smacked it away. “What?” She snapped, looking up at him.

“I was trying to be polite and shake your hand.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, his face a perfect mask of innocence. “Your captain said I could sit at this desk while I helped you on this.” He said, sitting down in the desk directly facing her’s. It had been Tessa’s up until her transfer and right now Sarah was really wishing that she hadn’t.

“Good for you.” She muttered and looked back down at her casefile. She jerked her head up when she felt more than saw him get closer. “What are you doing?”

“Reading the casefile or least attempting to.” He said, his voice tight with what Sarah could only assume was frustration. She glared at him, she could tell him to get his own copy but then she’d likely be forced to fill out all the paperwork. Instead, she huffed and pushed the file towards him.

“Just don’t fuck it up, it’s the original.” She practically snarled and he gave her a clearly practiced wounded look before taking it.

Sarah crossed her arms and leaned back, narrowing her eyes and sizing him up. She wasn’t sure what to make of the lawyer. From what she’d heard from the few detectives who’d met him while testifying in court, he was supposed absolutely charming. Sarah, however, couldn’t get past his cocky attitude. She didn’t give a shit how attractive he was of if he had legs for days and eyes blue enough to drown in. He was a pompous ass who thought he was all that.

Yet he also seemed genuinely invested in this case. She’d read about his charity work in the news and while she wanted to just write it off as a publicity stunt from what she’d heard during his interviews he seemed to genuinely enjoy it. He seemed to genuinely care about people.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” John said without looking up from the file, Sarah could see a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“The day I willingly do that Staci should check me into the psych ward. Unless it’s for your mugshot, then I’ll happily take your picture.” She gave him a sour smile. John returned her unhappy smile with a clearly forced one of his own.

“I am looking forward to our partnership, detective,” John said, his voice dripping with swagger and for a second Sarah was tempted to smack the smirk off his face. She'd be professional for once and save that for after they'd finished this case.

#bridges #detective sarah lamb #far cry 5 #sarah lamb

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shan282-ao3 · 5 years ago

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The Devil Has Come Ch12

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

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Thomas finished off his cigarette before getting into the car, something Sarah was very grateful for. She had no problem with him smoking, she just didn’t feel like sitting in a car filled with it. He started up the truck that she’d driven in and instantly flipped the radio station.

“What? No Peggie radio? You sure you’re a member of the Project?” Sarah teased and Thomas just rolled his eyes and turned the volume up. The guitar intro to Hot Blood started and Sarah smiled a little, their local radio DJ had good taste sometimes, she’d give him that.

Thomas’s head bopped along to the song as he drove away from her house, he was lip-syncing the lyrics. Sarah grinned and joined him, eventually belting out the words along with him, swapping parts back and forth until the chorus. For the rest of the drive to the ranch, she forgot they were in the middle of a war.

The song ended and something much more low-key began and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. Thomas reached forward turned the volume down as they turned onto the property, stopping when a cultist waved him down.

“What’s up?” He asked, leaning slightly out the window.

“Brother John wants you to report to the house immediately, it’s urgent. He and The Father are awaiting your arrival.” The man said, peering past Thomas to give Sarah a suspicious look. Thomas nodded and thanked the man before rolling the window back up and driving forward.

“Shit.” He cursed, looking over at Sarah quickly, his fists clenched the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

“Joseph’s here?” Sarah asked, worrying anxiously at a loose thread on her shirt. She had yet to meet the infamous cult leader in person and was honestly scared of what he would do to her when he found here.

“Guess so. Get down, move your chair back as far as you can and hide on the floor until I come to get you. I’ll crack the windows. If he finds out you’re here, why you’re here. Well, you won’t be the only one in trouble. He already doubts John.” He muttered the last sentence and Sarah wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it. She wanted to ask what he meant by it but she thought the better of it, instead doing what he’d said.

The floor was cramped and uncomfortable but she’d survive if it meant Joseph wouldn’t find her. She just had to stay quiet. Thomas pulled the car to a slow stop, careful not to jostle her too much.

“I’ll be back.” He whispered the promise, not looking at her, and climbed out of the car. He stopped to order another cultist to keep everyone away from the truck.

“Brother Thomas, you’re back.” John’s voice called out, reaching across the distance and sending chills up Sarah’s back.

“I apologize for my lateness. I ran into a little trouble on the way back.”

“That explains the truck.” John’s voice had gotten quieter, but he was still close enough for Sarah to hear him, though just barely. “I trust you delivered my message to the interested party?”

“Of course, even brought back something for later.”

“Oh, I’m intrigued? Sadly it’ll have to wait, The Father is inside. We’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

Their voices faded from earshot and Sarah was left alone on the floor of the truck, her legs jammed into her ribcage and back curved uncomfortably. She barely fit, her legs were too fucking long. Very rarely did she hate her height, being tall was fun, but right now she would give anything not to be 5’10”.

To pass the time she began counting footsteps of the people outside, figuring out which were repeating steps and which were new. When Thomas got back she was going to have to ask how many guards were here right now, her count was 27 which would be more than the last few times she’d been here but made sense with Joseph’s visit.

“I will see you both soon.” The words woke Sarah from her uncomfortable dozing. It was calming and inviting, a voice that could only belong to Joseph Seed. She didn’t dare peek out to see him, not wanting to risk her own life just yet.

There was more parting conversation before she heard his surprisingly light footsteps move past the truck and further down the road. The click of a car door shutting and tires skidding announced his departure and plunged the world into a chill silence.

Sarah counted the minutes as nothing happened, no one outside the car spoke or moved. 1, 2, 3, 4 minutes. Finally, someone broke the silence, a single cough, and the world seemed to spring back into action.

Gravel crunched underfoot as someone approached the truck, Sarah did her best to shrink down as low as possible.

“Let’s go, deputy,” Thomas said as he swung open her door, his hand outstretched to help her pry herself from the floor.

“You left me in there for a long fucking time,” Sarah complained, cringing at the crunch of her bones and rolling her neck. For only being 30 years old, she felt fucking old some times.

“Quit the whining John’s waiting inside.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and led her towards the front door. She was tempted to shrug it off but knew he was only doing his job so she complied.

John wasn’t waiting at the door for her as Sarah had half expected, instead she found him sitting at the table bent over some paperwork. He glanced up with a look of frustration before smiling when he saw her. He pushed the paperwork away and stood, walking towards her with his hands slightly outstretched.

“To what do I owe this lovely surprise?” John asked, his voice alone bringing warmth to Sarah’s chest. She did her best to ignore what that could mean.

“I needed a distraction.” She answered, stepping away from Thomas to stand in front of John. John grabbed one hand, running his thumb along her wrist.

“I’m afraid you have awful timing. I have duties to attend to before I can provide a distraction.” He looked genuinely disappointed and let go of her hand, turning to go back to his paperwork.

Sarah stood awkwardly where he’d left her before following. He sat down and against her better judgment she leaned over and draped her arms across his shoulders, resting her chin on the top of his head.

“Can I still stay? I can’t go back out there, I pissed the wrong people off.”

John looked up and she moved off his head so she could see his face. His expression was unreadable, but after a few silent seconds, he offered another smile and pulled the chair beside him out.

“Just don’t be too much of distraction, please. The sooner I get this stuff done the sooner we can attend to more personal matters.” He had a sly smirk on his face, Sarah shook her head and took the seat beside him.

John returned to his paperwork, leaving Sarah to find her own way of entertaining herself. She idly tapped her fingers on the table, looking around the room for something to do. She’d just begun the drum solo to Bastile’s Pompeii when John’s hand closed on her wrist, silencing her tapping. He gave her an irritated look and Sarah withdrew her hands, lacing them in front of her.

With a small sigh and shake of his head, John stood, pulling her with him. His hand wrapped around her’s and he walked her into the living room, stopping in front of a bookshelf.

“Pick something and make yourself comfortable.” He squeezed her hand once more before returning to the dining table. Sarah watched him until he was blocked from view by the fireplace before finally turning to the bookshelf.

The bookshelf was filled with all sorts of titles. She found a few copies of the Book of Joseph, running her fingers down the pristine white and gold spines before moving on. She settled on a worn-out copy of The Catcher in the Rye and took it with her to the couch.

Unlacing her boots, she tossed them behind her in the direction of the front door and pulled her feet up onto the couch. She settled back into the pillowed and opened the book to the first page, she couldn’t help but smile at the wear and tear from being read so often.

John dropped onto the couch beside her with an exhausted huff. Sarah moved from her spot in the corner to sit cross-legged beside him, closing the book and putting it down.

“You’re done?” She asked, glancing back towards the table.

“For now. Tomorrow I’ve got—“ He paused and shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, you came here for a reason.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and his lips found her exposed collarbone.

“John?” She tugged lightly on his hair, pulling him away from her skin. He looked at her with tired eyes. “We don’t have to do that. We can just sit here, these last two hours have been distraction enough.”

John’s eyes filled with confusion, his brow and nose scrunched as he attempted to find the trap in her words. Sarah gave him a pitiful smile and tugged on his shoulders until he allowed her to lower his head to her lap.

“Do you read this often?” She asked idly, holding the book and opening it back to her page.

“When I was younger.” He looked up at her with guarded eyes, obviously not used to something so domestic as the situation she’d just created for them.

“I read it for school once, I liked it. It was banned in most schools but my teacher let us read it anyways.” She felt John nod below her.

“It was banned at my high school too. My English teacher gave it to me at the end of the year.” Sarah ran the fingers on her free hand idly through his hair and he closed his eyes after a minute. “The main character reminded me of Jacob sometimes.” He mumbled, the silence of the room meant Sarah heard him perfectly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” His tone was heavy and he stayed silent after that. Sarah didn’t press for more information, from what she’d heard from people around the county and from what he’d said in his bunker she knew he had a shitty childhood.

Sarah leaned as far back into the seat as she could and smiled when John wiggled around to get more comfortable. She didn’t hesitate to return her free hand to his hair to resume her stroking of his hair. It was really soft, she was tempted to steal his hair care products.

“Mmh.” John groaned, his voice tired. Sarah let out an amused huff and looked away from her book and down at him. His eyes were closed and while he didn’t look completely at peace, but he was calmer than normal.

“Didn’t you sleep last night?”

“No.” He shook his head and his brow furrowed, he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “I woke up when you were leaving, couldn’t sleep after that. I took Affirmation out for a flight.”

Sarah nodded in response even though she knew he couldn’t see it. She now knew two things, John had been awake when she’d snuck out and he must be a light sleeper because she’d made sure she was quiet.

“Sorry I woke you up.” She offered and got a dismissive grunt in response. Ten minutes had passed before she realized the man in her lap had passed out. She didn’t dare move, John had looked dead on his feet. If he wanted to get a few hours of sleep while she finished his book she was fine with it.

A hand on her shoulder woke Sarah up. The book had fallen from her hand onto the floor, her free hand was still laced in John’s previously perfectly styled hair. She blinked tiredly at the face above her until it came into focus. Thomas stood above her with a crooked smile.

“Hungry?” He waved a frozen burrito over her head, she felt her mouth water. She hadn’t had one in months, the drive Missoula wasn’t worth the drive to get the good ones and the ones in all of the Hope County corner stores were crap.

Sarah nodded somewhat frantically and as carefully as possible moved John off her lap. She stood slowly, making sure she hadn’t woken the man. He mumbled something, his nose scrunched up, but fell silent again and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

Thomas was already halfway to the kitchen when she caught up with him. She took her time now that she didn’t have to think about John’s inquiring stare to admire his house. It was tastefully rustic she decided, a stark difference from her mostly modern interior. Where she had meaningless pictures landscapes decorating her wall, he had antlers delicately surrounded by what she was certain were bliss flowers. Her house was a monochrome palette of white grey and the occasional splash of blue while his was all wooden and warmth. She decided after some brief thought that she loved it.

She stepped into the kitchen, still looking around in slight awe, and sat on the counter. Thomas watched her with an amused smile as he pulled plates down and an extra burrito from John’s freezer.

“I get it.” He said, his tone giving Sarah the impression that he’d just come to some great realization.

“Get what?” She let her confusion show, kicking her shoes off and pulling her legs up so she was cross-legged on the counter.

“Why he likes having you around.” Thomas smirked slightly, his tone implying more than Sarah’s tired brain was comfortable deciphering. Regardless she felt a blush cover her cheeks and she looked away from him. Her stomach twisted in knots she tried to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Where the hell do you get all the cigarettes?”

“John smuggles them in for me. It’s the one vice he’s let me keep. I can’t fuck, can’t drink, can’t curse God, but I can smoke. I take solace in the little things.” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world like he hadn’t had his freedom ripped away from him by Joseph and his tenants.

“Didn’t you drink with me earlier?” Sarah gave him an amused looked and he returned it.

“If John can break the rules and fuck you senseless then I can have an occasional drink. ‘Sides I’ve got to go through the whole confession process weekly because of the smoking, might as well add a few extra sins to the list while I’m at it. I’m already sinning, what’s the harm in sinning a bit more?” He shrugged and pulled a plate from the microwave, walking it over to her before putting his own in the microwave.

“Guess that makes sense. Do you really believe in all of this?” She made a vague sweeping gesture, hoping he understood that she wasn’t talking about John’s ranch. She took a bite of the food and savored the delicious flavor, obviously, it would have been better not microwaved but she’d take what she could get at this point.

“No, I don’t believe God has a plan for us, I don’t think Joseph can save my soul. But I believe in him and John and Jacob, even Faith. I was never much of a believer in anything, Joseph showed me how freeing it was to believe in something besides yourself.” Thomas told her, his voice light and bordering and peaceful. “They gave me a purpose and family to look out for. I’ll sound cliche for a second but I was lost, in a haze of smoke and bar fighting, and they found me and pulled me into the light.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows and tried not to laugh at his last comment. He’d been right about it sounding like the biggest fucking cliche.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He snapped but his tone was playful. “It’s true. I was a shittier cop than you and no offense but you’re awful.”

Sarah clutched her chest in mock offense. “I am not, I do my job. And since when were you a cop?”

“The bare minimum maybe, but no more than that. Pretty sure you’ve been lazying around your house for the past week while you left Whitehorse and Rook to do all the work.” Thomas joked, leaning against the counter across from her and eating his own food. “I was a cop back home, my off duty time was spent smoking, drinking, and fighting the assholes at the bar who were pissed at me for locking up their buddies.”

“Hmm.” Sarah couldn’t deny that she’d been a shitty deputy as of late. She was a little grateful to hear that Whitehorse was still alive and kicking and felt guilty that he hadn’t crossed her mind once since the helicopter crash. It was true that she’d left the problems of all of Hope County on Rook’s shoulders, suddenly Rook’s demeanor towards her made a bit more sense.

“Guess I have been pretty shitty, huh?” She pulled at a loose thread on her jeans, guilt covering her features.

Thomas shrugged for a second time that night and took her plate, putting it in the sink to be washed later, likely by someone of a much lower rank. “We’re all allowed to be shitty every now and then. It’s good to be selfish sometimes.”

Sarah felt a wave of sorrow rush over her, his words so similar to what Staci had said to her back at the Veteran’s Center when she’d been with Jacob. “I suppose.” She slipped off the counter and searched through the cabinets until she found a glass, filling it with water before sitting on the counter again. The pair fell into a comfortable silence.

#the devil has come #tdhc #deputy sarah lamb #sarah lamb #far cry 5 #ao3 #ao3 feed

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shan282-ao3 · 5 years ago

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The Devil Has Come Ch11

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

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It’d been a nearly a week since Sarah had last seen John when she’d crept out of his room in the early morning. He’d been dead to the world and she’d taken that as her cue to run for the hills. She’d stolen another one of his coats, this time a fashionably worn out leather jacket, in the hopes that maybe he’d ask her to bring it back, but so far he hadn’t. The only time she heard his voice now was in his broadcasts on the radios and at outposts.

She missed him, if only slightly, and that fact left feeling guilty and exhilarated at the same time. She’d always had fun breaking the rules and going against what was expected of her. She’d taken a lot of pleasure in being her mother’s greatest disappointment back in the day. And if fucking John Seed and wanting to do it again wasn’t one of the worst things she could do right now then she wasn’t sure what was.

She’d spent a few days getting more sniper practice in with Grace and hunted a few bears that had been terrorizing the locals with Boomer. She had even picked up a few shifts at the Spread Eagle so she could earn a bit more cash and buy the SA-50 she’d had her eye on.

The first thing she’d done with her fancy new gun was take back the packing facility that she and Rook had cleared out when they’d first gotten to Holland Valley. In their absence, the Resistance had lost the outpost to the cult once again and Mary May had heavily implied that it was Sarah’s fault for not being there to help.

With Boomer’s help she’d cleared it quickly and without incident, having already done this before she knew what to expect. She’d taken out the alarm quickly and dispatched the remaining cultists, Boomer had killed the last one while she stayed in her sniping spot. It had been different without Rook around. She’d turned to celebrate her victory before remembering there was no one to share it with.

Radio in hand, she clicked to talk. “Packing facility is ours again.”

“Good job.” Rook’s voice spoke back and Sarah frowned at the disinterest in her voice, “Thanks for keeping me in the loop, ma’am.”

“Rook? It’s me, Sarah.” She responded, her voice on the edge of pleading for recognition from one of her last friends in this hellhole of a county.

“Oh, Sarah? I thought you were dead, guess that explains some things. Um, well thanks for helping the Resistance clear that place.”

“Helped? I cleared it by myself?” Her words came out as more of a hurt question that a statement.

“Yeah, thanks.” Rook’s tone was dismissive, there was a long silence before she spoke again. “I’m on way out there with Jess Black and Cheese, we’ll make sure the Peggies don’t come back so feel free to go do your own thing.”

Sarah leaned away from the radio with a look of betrayal on her face. Had Rook just dismissed what she’d done? Had she just fucking replaced her? She loved Jess Black— well loved was a stretch— she liked Jess Black, but she wasn’t qualified to watch Rook’s back.

“I’ll do that.” Sarah snapped, clenching and unclenching her fists. The recently familiar feeling of wrath seeping through her veins brought a little smile to her face. She could just picture John’s smug grin if he could see her now.

She climbed down from the water tower she’d taken up position on, whistling for Boomer to join her. She could go to the Rye’s and see Finny, but she’d been there so much lately she felt like a bit of nuisance. Sharky was an option but Sarah honestly didn’t feel like driving out that far. She could go home, but she’d gotten so used to being around other people that home just felt empty now.

“Come on B, we’re gonna explore.” She patted the side of her thigh and walked on, Boomer happily following beside her. She didn’t have a destination in mind, maybe they’d find a nice pond where she could get away from the awful heat.

They hadn’t found a pond, much to Sarah’s dismay. Instead, they’d found a few Peggies broken down on the side of the road in one of their Project trucks with the speakers all strapped down in the trunk. They’d come upon them just as Set Those Sinner Free began, it had seemed fitting.

Sarah had briefly debating blowing the truck, but Nick had taught her some stuff about engines in the recent weeks so she figured she could safely fix it. A bit of tinkering and blowtorching later, she was confident that it would run for at least another day before completely crapping out, barring any bullet holes of course.

Boomer had immediately climbed into the passenger’s side and curled up in a tight ball on the floor. The AC was turned to full blast and with no destination in mind, Sarah lay across the sights and looked at the ceiling. Basking in the icy air pouring from the vents, she listened to the music coming from the clump of speakers.

The music quieted down and Sarah thought for a moment that she’d touched something only for one of John’s sermons to start. She realized after a minute of listening absently that she hadn’t heard this one before and perked up a bit.

“—you cannot run from your sins. Embrace it. Accept it. Run from it. In the end, you will atone. You will say yes, I want to be saved. Yes, I will confess. Yes, I will atone. And I will help you. I will save your soul. All you have to do is say yes to The Father. Say yes to The Project. Say yes to God. The Father believes in you.” John’s words dripped charisma, he could convince all of Hope County to turn sides if he wanted to.

Sarah sighed as his sermon ended and the music’s volume increased once again. She could feel her resolve weakening with each day she spent listening to the sermons he and Joseph broadcasted across the valley.

The night she’d gone to arrest Joseph, she’d doubted herself. She’d caught herself fantasizing about stepping forward and taking his outstretched hands. Of standing at his side and waiting for her coworkers, her friends, to leave her in disgust. She’d known that if it was her with the cuffs, she would abandon them and take his side.

She’d hardened herself against the idea since then. Her judgment had been clouded, she didn’t know all of the awful things the cult did that Joseph was permitting in his quest to save their souls and prepare for the Collapse. She woke up each morning and did her best to convince herself that they were all monsters.

And yet each day Sarah caught herself doubting that more and more, fantasizing once again about standing by their side. Recently, she’d begun imagining herself at John’s side, she’d dreamed of it multiple times. Standing hand in hand with him against the world, standing strong against anyone who would destroy them.

She must be sick, who would fantasize about joining hands with psychopaths. Maybe she was concussed or suffering some awful infection from one of the many wounds that now decorated her skin. No one in their right mind would dream of walking side by side with someone who would kill her without a second thought.

“Sarah?” Rook’s voice over the radio interrupted her thoughts, Sarah couldn’t help but feel grateful that she’d been pulled out of that rabbit hole.

“Yeah?” She answered, waiting patiently for Rook’s orders. She frowned at that. Since when had she started taking orders from Rook? She was technically Sarah’s subordinate, though she wasn’t sure that was still a thing, what with the entire county until the control of a cult.

“Did you leave the packing facility?”

“Yeah, you said do your own thing so I did. Why?”

“You didn’t call any Resistance members to come defend it. The Peggies took it back.” Rook sounded genuinely pissed and Sarah shot up in her seat ready to defend herself. “I had to clear it again. We need to talk, in person.” Rook cut off anything Sarah may have said in her own defense.

Sarah pulled the map from her bag and figured out where she was in relation to the packing facility. Boomer perked up as she turned the car around, gassing it towards the outpost.

They came skidding to a stop and Sarah had barely put the truck in park before she was jumping out. Build a Castle blasted through the speakers and the Resistance members dragging bodies away glared at her. Boomer jumped out the open window and ran off to sniff around.

“Sarah,” Rook waved her over, she looked pissed off. Jess narrowed her eyes as Sarah walked past her to stand in front of Rook. “Let’s talk in private.” She led the way to the office, shutting it behind Sarah and sitting down in the chair by the desk. Sarah stood awkwardly in the center of the room for a moment before leaning against the wall.

“You left, Sarah. You didn’t call for anyone and the cult got this place back.” Rook hung her head in disappointment.

“I told everyone I’d cleared it.” Sarah grinned in disbelief, this had to be a joke.

“You didn’t wait to see if anyone had gotten the message.”

“I broadcasted it on the Resistance radio channel.

“You were supposed to wait for someone to take your place.”

“No one told me that. No one even said they were coming. Tessa, you told me to leave, that you didn’t need me.” Sarah pushed off the wall, clenching her fists to hold back her anger at the situation she was in now.

“Don’t call me that.” Rook snapped, glaring up at Sarah.

“That’s your fucking name. What? Am I supposed to call you Deputy like everyone else and worship the ground you walk on?” Sarah’s voice had risen significantly since they walked in here.

“You’re supposed to show me some damn respect. I’m working my ass off for you, risking my life for these people, and you just waltz around like you own the place.” Rook jumped from her chair to match Sarah.

“Are you kidding me?” Sarah all but shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. “Tessa, no one gives a shit about me. I haven’t been thanked once for anything.” She made sure the drag out Rook’s first name.

Rook looked up at Sarah, disgust and disbelief covering her face. “You’re not supposed to do this for thanks. This is your damn job.”

Sarah scoffed, “No, my job is checking gun permits and stopping drunken brawls. I didn’t sign up to fight a fucking cult.” She turned away from Rook and threw open the door, stomping out of the office.

“Officer Lamb!” Rook shouted after her, “Get back here!”

Sarah turned, her mouth agape in barely contained rage. “Did you just order me around, Probie?” She threw Staci’s favorite insult in Rook’s face. A few resistance members turned to watch, Jess took a step forward and surveyed the scene.

“You’re an officer of the law, you’re supposed to uphold the law. That means doing your fucking job. Not day drinking with Nick Rye or running off to play fetch with Boomer.”

Sarah rushed forward, shoving Rook back against the wall behind her. “You’re not my fucking boss. Last time I checked, killing people and taking their property wasn’t in my job description either.” She hissed, venom in her voice.

“They’re not innocent, they’re murderers. And they stole this property from the people of Hope County.”

“They bought it, The Project bought almost every property they control.”

“They lost the right to these places when they started massacring innocents.”

“How can you be this dense? That doesn’t make it okay for us to execute them.” Sarah exclaimed, running her hands through her hair.

“This coming from the woman wearing a psychopath’s clothes.” Rook sneered, her voice low so no one else could hear, and she shoved Sarah in turn.

Sarah stumbled back and looked down at her clothes. Of course, she’d had to choose today of all days to wear John’s blue shirt that she’d taken from his place weeks ago along with the jacket she’d stolen the night of her baptism. The shirt could be dismissed, but the bomber jacket had tiny planes on the fabric inside and with the collar flipped open anyone could see the print. It was unmistakably John Seed's.

“I’m sorry, I forgot I was talking to the great Sarah Lamb. You’ve been doing what these last few weeks, hiding out at home with your cat and watching old movies? You obviously haven’t been helping anyone because today was the first time I’ve heard your voice. Actually, today is the first time I’ve heard you mentioned at all.” Rook was baiting her and it was working. Sarah took steps forward until she was mere inches from the smaller woman. “See, unlike you, I don’t think the world owes me. I’ve actually been helping people, not leaving all the work for everyone else while I sit on my ass.”

Sarah’s right fist collided with Rook’s cheek before she could stop herself. In an instant, everyone had pulled their guns and Jess had a knife pressed against Sarah’s throat. Rook rubbed her cheek and looked up at Sarah from where she’d fallen to the floor, her shock obvious. She looked back down at Rook with pure rage. If Jess’s hunting knife wasn’t pressed hard enough to almost draw blood, she would have thrown herself to the ground to hit Rook again and she was sure the other woman knew it.

“Let her go, Jess,” Rook ordered, pushing herself off the floor. “Get out of here Sarah, before you fuck something up or kill someone. Sleep it off and report back to me in the morning."

“I’m not your fucking soldier.” Sarah spat, rolling her neck once Jess had stepped away. “These idiots may think you’re their savior, but I know you’re as terrified as the rest of them. Go on and play the hero, for now. We both know you won’t be able to keep this up forever.”

She stomped off with guns aimed at her the entire way to her car. Boomer looked between her and Rook in confusion before running to Rook’s side at her command. Sarah didn’t look back, just climbed into the truck she’d arrived in and took off.

Thomas was sitting on the steps to her house smoking what looked like his fourth cigarette when Sarah pulled up. She shut off the engine and regarded him cautiously as she stepped down. He took one last very long drag, finishing the cigarette off then threw it to the ground.

“Caused a lot of trouble today, Sarah.” He almost teased and Sarah rolled her eyes with an annoyed huff. She was in no mood for this right now. She shoved him aside and unlocked her front door. Thomas wasted no time in following her inside.

“Why are you here? How’d you even find my house?”

“The Ryes are really nice people, they’ve never met me before. You told me to meet you at your house but neglected to tell me where it was, Nick was nice enough to point me in the right direction.” He grinned and Sarah was a little concerned at how similar to John he looked in that moment.

She swore under her breath, she’d have to have a word with Nick about giving her address out to people. “Whaddya want?”

“Two things: I’m supposed to check on you and I’ve got a message for you. John doesn’t trust the radio, anyone could listen in.” He said matter-of-factly and followed Sarah as she retreated to the kitchen, she pointedly didn’t acknowledge his words.

“Vodka?” She pulled a bottle down and shook it in front of him.

“Are you an alcoholic?” Thomas asked, his tone both serious and humorous.

“No.” She was a little offended that he’d asked.

“You drink a lot for someone who isn’t an alcoholic.”

“I’m pretty sure I drink just enough given the situation we’re all in.” Thomas shrugged at that and took the bottle, pouring a shot into each glass. Sarah sat down at the table, pushing the glass away and dropping her head into her hands. One of the knuckles on the hand that hit Rook had split and was really starting to hurt.

Thomas sat beside her, grabbing her bruised hand and studying it. “One of ours?” He asked, a touch of sadness in his voice,

“One of mine,” Sarah responded and Thomas looked at her in confusion but didn't press it.

“First aid kit?”

“Cupboard over the fridge.” Thomas returned quickly with the kit, opening and removing what he’d need. She hissed he poured alcohol over the cut before placing gauze over it and wrapping her hand.

“You know,” He paused as if considering something before continuing. “I knew John before all of this. I grew up in the same town as him. Got to meet him again when he was a fancy lawyer trying to save our shit show of a neighborhood.”

Sarah didn’t speak to that news, afraid she’d scare him off if she did. She was interested in learning about who John was before the cult.

“He was stuck up and high half the time, but he seemed to really care about our tiny corner of the world. Then he disappeared for a while and came back with his brothers and the Project. I joined not long after he came back.” Thomas smiled sadly at the memory, Sarah was tempted to inquire further to learn what was so sad but knew it was none of her business. He placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her attention.

“I’ve been by his side for a while, watched him move from obsession to obsession to fill the hole inside him. The baptisms, confessions, and atonements help, but it’s never enough. He’s always got to be doing something. You’re not the first woman to enter his bed since I joined him, not the second or even the third. You are the first one who wasn’t a member though, you’re the first he’s shown a genuine interest in. He’s breaking all kinds of rules without a second thought. He hasn’t even told Joseph about you.”

“Why are you telling me this, Thomas?” Sarah was suspicious, there had to be a catch to this information, that or it was a lie to get her to trust John more.

“So you know there’s a place for you with us. That was John’s message for you. He wanted me to tell you that when you’re ready, there is a place beside him for you. I just wanted you to understand a bit more about him before I told you.” Thomas stood from the table, his hand on her shoulder lingered before dropping away. He threw back his drink and turned to leave.

Sarah swallowed nervously and watched him start to walk towards the door. John had some really awful timing, she was almost convinced he’d planned this, that somehow he knew she’d been thinking about just this. He knew how to work his way inside her head and drag her deepest thoughts into the open.

“Wait,” Thomas stopped at the door, a cigarette she hadn’t seen him grab hanging from his lips. “Can I come with you? Not to join you or whatever. I’ve just had a shit day and I was hoping…” She trailed off feeling like a right idiot, Thomas just grinned and lit his cigarette, taking a few short puffs before responding.

“You’re hoping he’ll fuck you till you can’t remember why you’re upset?” He supplied, smoke billowing from his mouth as he spoke.

“Something like that.” She mumbled without looking him in the eye. The door opened and she waited to hear it close behind her retreating guest, but when after a few minutes it still hadn’t she looked up to see what was the matter. Thomas stood with the door propped open with the tip of his shoe, an impatient yet amused look on his face.

“Let’s go then. I don’t have all day.”

#the devil has come #tdhc #deputy sarah lamb #sarah lamb #far cry 5 #ao3 #ao3 feed

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