"Why am I so emotional? No it's not a good look. Gain some self control." - Stay With Me (Sam Smith)
There were fingers tangled in her hair, and the brush of warm knuckles over her face even before Jen opened her eyes. His mouth was close to her face, close enough that she could feels his breath against her lips, calling her name gently. His face is blurry for a moment as her eyes adjust and she can feel the way his breath leaves him even as his mouth sets firmly somewhere between relief and satisfaction. The lines in his face seem more prominent and the dark, tired circles beneath his eyes stand out even against skin covered in dirt and specks of blood. His mouth and face are still swollen from where he had been hit. Her eyes shift to look around the room, but not much seems changed.
"Jen?" Luke asks again, and when she looks back, his eyes are searching hers with a kind of desperation. She sucks in a breath to speak and realizes it doesn't hurt. She doesn't have to look down to know what happened. His hand is over the spot she knew had been bleeding and she didn't hurt anywhere.
"You fixed me again, didn't you?" she says, almost accusingly, big brown eyes looking at him seriously. He shouldn't have wasted his ability on her. She would have been fine... even if she can't quite remember anything after stitching his side. "You better not have ripped those stitches open." she says flatly, moving to sit up, but he pushes her back down gently.
"You weren't waking up." he tells her and he sounds exhausted. It makes her want to sit up any more, but for the sake of saving him the trouble of pushing her down again, she stays laying on the couch and just sighs. He still looks worried, like at any moment she's going to pass out again, and she doesn't know what to say or do to put him at ease, so she just shrugs.
"I'm sure I would have been fine in a bit. You shouldn't have pushed yourself." she says. Luke just frowns down at her and she frowns back. There was something unsaid sitting between them, Jen could feel it. It was the same thing that had made her kiss him before they had left. It was the same weighted that made run to him when he called her name. The same pull that made her stay even when she felt like she should have gone.
It was dangerous. There was no room for this here. They had purpose. They had a mission. Distractions like this were a weakness, and that was evidenced by Luke's face and the blood on both their clothes. Jen sucked in a small breath before she pushed through the tension and spoke, breaking the spell. "You can quit hovering now, snowflake. I'm fine, thanks to you."
It was the best she could give him. Camaraderie. Friendship. A relationship where she walked into hell beside him and had his back, and knew that in return he had hers, but that was all. Maybe, if things were different... but Jen didn't even entertain that thought. She knew damn well what her life was, what she had asked for. Her last moments would be spent fighting back the hordes of hell. Jen's body was designed to take the hits that kept on coming, to hit harder and move faster. To endure. To fight back. To survive. That was the only purpose it would serve, despite the thoughtless joke she had made in a moment where she had thought death was imminent.
Looking into Luke's eyes, she had to believe he understood that, because he understood her perhaps the best of anyone she had met. It was no secret that the Apocalypse was their common ground, because they looked out at the world and they saw the same thing; a battle to be won. If he felt anything, any sliver of longing or hurt at her dismissal or relief at the opportunity to return to being professional, he hid it well and she admired the hell out of that and hoped she was the same way. A soldier first. He leaned back and finally allowed her to sit up, waving a hand to dispel her thanks much as he had the last time he had healed her.
Jen sat up and shifted a bit so her feet could rest on the floor. Without telling him what she was doing or asking permission, she leaned towards him and gently lifted the edge of his shirt, returning to the last thing she remembered before she had apparently passed out. "How long was I out?" she asks stiffly, frowning at the stitches. They were angry and red, dried blood around the edges, but thankfully, they had held.
"Maybe two hours." Luke replied, his voice equally flat and distant, but she took no offense. Instead she looks around for the med kit so she could work on his face. She could have left him be and put more distance between them, but she wanted to patch him up as fast as she could. They both needed to be ready for the next fight when it came, and who knew when that would be. "You should have mentioned a head wound."
"Little preoccupied with the whole 'escaping' thing." she says, giving him a wry look as she dabs a cotton ball soaked with hydrogen peroxide over the cuts and scrapes on his face. Her shoulder lift in a slight shrug before she says the next part. "Honestly, I didn't even realize I was that bad. I mean my head hurt and all but the chest was worse." she says, gesturing and glancing down to where there had been long, bloody gouges only a short time ago. Now all that was left behind was a bloody t-shirt that left almost nothing to the imagination and Jen suddenly felt a bit warm. Glancing back to Luke, she saw that he was looking very intently at her face and no where else.
"You should probably go change." he informed her, and she didn't argue. There were unspoken rules here. A silent arrangement with rules that they both adhered to. It didn't stop a small smirk from tilting the edges of Jen's mouth upward.
"And lead me not into temptation, huh?" she joked lightly. It was perhaps the closest she had ever come to acknowledging the heat that sometimes appeared between them and for a split second Luke's expression was unreadable but ultimately his eyes narrowed slightly and his frown deepened.
"Go." he repeated stiffly, but Jen was already standing up from the couch.
"Relax. I'm going." she told him, heading upstairs to raid through whatever had been left behind in the way of replacement shirts. "And when I come back, we're gonna eat, siphon some gas, and then get the fuck outta dodge. You gonna be alright to hit the road?" she asks, pausing midway up the stairs to peer through the doorway of the living room to watch his reaction. His eyes were still on her and he inclined his head once. Jen nodded back and said nothing else. It was back to work.
There was still something about this that didn't sit right with her. Something about what had happened that made her uncomfortable. It wasn't the town of people who had lost all sense of morality. It wasn't whatever pesky human longing she sometimes felt for a man she knew better than to do anything with. It was the fact that he was hurt and badly, and instead of using his abilities to heal himself, he had chosen to help her. Most people would be grateful, and she was, but Jen knew her place and her purpose. She was here to stand against hell, but as Luke had pointed out on more than one occasion, she was useless against demons. He was not. Of the two of them, his survival was more beneficial than hers. Jen was replaceable. Luke was not. Whether he didn't see that, or simply had chosen to ignore it, it didn't sit well with her. For the first time in a very, very long time, Jen felt like a liability.
Most likely it was exhaustion that had her hands stilling and head bowing as she went through drawers in one of the bedroom dressers. She took a few quick, deep breaths as emotions she didn't want to feel rushed forward. She bit on her lip to hold back the sob that was waiting in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut against tears of relief. He had shown up. He was alive and the first thing he had done was put his arms around her, and then he had just erased the harm done to her. Looking up now, facing the mirror above the dresser, she could see that there were no signs of violence left on her skin. No bruises. No cuts. He had healed them all. Jen pulled the ruined shirt over her head and dried her eyes with it before tossing it onto the ground and replacing it with a plain black t-shirt that still smelled faintly of detergent and cedar. It was looser than the tank-top she had gotten from Jojo, and her eyes lingered on the scrap of fabric that now sat on the floor for a moment longer as she debated keeping it. Her mouth quirked up a bit and she thought about what the mouthy little blonde would say if she were here.
"Why d'ya wanna keep it? Oil rag? Fuckin' sap."
Jen checked her face in the mirror. Dirty, lightly lined, but free of marks and any signs of emotion. Nodding in approval, she went downstairs and went back to work.
"I would sing you to sleep. Never let them take the light behind your eyes." - The Light Behind Your Eyes (My Chemical Romance)
Jen could see the windows as they led her down the hall. In some of the other cells she could hear people moaning in pain, already having been here a while and receiving the harsh treatment she was sure she was about to get a taste of. They brought her to the front doors and she frowned out at the downpour outside. Luke was being led out behind her and she noticed they hadn't bothered to cuff him again, though she supposed with the earlier threat still hanging over their heads it wasn't really necessary.
The men led them through the streets, dark and slick from the rain. Jen could feel her hair and clothes getting soaked as they pulled at her arm, but it was too rough for her to keep a good pace and she stumbled. The man kept her upright at the last moment, grabbing her and tossing her into some other men, who laughed cruelly and threw her back like a ragdoll. She grit her teeth as they laughed and shoved her back and forth for a moment, either not caring where their hands landed or purposefully using the opportunity to grope at her. She tried hard not to think of which.
"Enough." Luke snapped sharply. Jen glared at him with wide eyes, and some of the other men turned to look at him too. One of the men walked close to him and Jen couldn't look away. Luke stared down at the man, his face a mask of indifference. Her own features barely moved as she watched the man swing. The only clue to her discomfort was the way a muscle beneath her eye twitched slightly as a fist coated with black shadows collided with Luke's stomach and sent him doubling over. The man who had hit him bent over and said something in his ear that Jen couldn't hear.
Leaning to the side, she tried to see around the men who had come to stand a bit closer to him. She just needed him to meet her eyes, to give her some sign that he was alright. The man was still whispering things in Luke's ear and whatever it was had the other men laughing, so she could only imagine it was a bunch of threats. There were about six men moving them, and they were all closing in on Luke now, apparently unbothered with any kind of deadline. They were beginning to shove and smack at him and every time he tried to straighten up he received another hit.
Jen looked around. People had either gone back inside to get out of the wind and rain, or they were waiting at whatever location she and Luke were currently en route to. At least, where that had been en route to. Now they were stopped in the middle of the street, and Luke's punishment was starting early. After one particularly brutal hit to his face, Luke fell down on one knee, spitting blood onto the ground. Jen didn't move, but her whole body tensed to lock her into place. Finally, he looked up, and met her gaze. There was a slice across the bridge of his nose and he had a split lip that offset the patch of red skin around his jaw that was no doubt going to bruise.
Luke looked up, wanting to see her face, to make sure she was alright and hadn't yet suffered through any of the horrors the men were taunting him with, but instead of the warm brown that was usually there, he saw the glowing red. It was time, and it was the only chance they would get. All his attackers were crowded around him, focused. He had been the distraction. He nodded back at Jen and in the next moment sat up fast. He slammed his elbow back into the man standing behind him as he heard her metallic snap of metal as Jen broke her cuffs.
A man tumbled over Luke's shoulder and he assumes that Jen had kicked him. Luke tackled one of the other men to the ground and laid a few sudden hits to his face, putting everything he had into it before he took the gun and quickly put a bullet in his would be killer's head. There were more shots behind him as Jen handled some of the others. There wass shouting and the sound of guns being fired in the distance. The noise and the shouting of the sudden chaos must have had the rest of the town stirring. Their window was closing fast.
Jen's fists glowed red, one wrapped around the gun and the other was crushing the throat of the man in front of her as she brought her knee up forcefully into his gut, and she heard the snap of his ribs as she did. As she let him drop to the ground a man stepped out of the shadows, just behind Luke, and she fired a few rounds into his neck and shoulder. She was moving too fast and it was raining too hard for her to make a clean headshot. "RUN!" she shouted at Luke, just before she took off in the direction of the car she had planned to siphon gas from.
It was almost impossible not to look back over her shoulder. This was the worst part, the part neither of them had been looking forward to. The part that required faith, and she wasn't even sure if that was anything she was good at. She ran as fast as she could, firing a few shots here and there so they knew where to find her. It may have been a stupid move, wasting ammo and drawing attention to herself, but she wanted to pull focus away from Luke. A black shadow wrapped around her feet and sent her sprawling onto the ground by the car. She felt her jaw clack against the pavement and the force rattled her whole head. Jen had barely processed that when someone grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over, pulling her up only for a moment before slamming a shadow covered fist into her face. It was such a hard hit that the back of her head cracked loudly against the asphalt, hard enough that if she'd been capable of breaking bones her brains might have been on the ground.
Instead it's just her blood as shadowy, claw likes things rake down her chest, leaves deep gashes and she can't help the slight scream that comes out of her mouth, but it's followed by a right hook that breaks her attacker's cheekbone. She can feel the bone splinter beneath her knuckles. Rolling fast, she moves to be on top of him, like some horrible pantomime of how she'd once been in bed. His mouth is open, either to yell at her or shout for help, she's not sure, but he doesn't get the chance. More claws are pulling at her shoulder and raking down her back, but she's got a grip on him now. Both hands are in his mouth, and she's literally splitting his face apart, and she doesn't stop until his jaw is ripped off. Blood is pouring out of the hole she's left behind and his hands fumble towards his face like maybe he could stem the bleeding, but Jen doesn't let that fantasy of his live for long. It's almost no effort to take his head and slam it into the concrete. He stops moving after that.
There's no time to breath, or to recollect herself. Jen pushes up and stumbles forward towards the car, moving as fast as she can. It's dark inside and her hands are slick, covered with rain and blood. Pulling out the wires from under the console, she sorts through them and she thinks she'd been faster and better at this when she was younger. This probably took Jojo all of three seconds, and here she was trying to find the different colors in this mess. Using her teeth, she strips the coating away and twists two of the wires together, making the car spring to life.
"Okay, okay, okay." she's mumbling to herself. People are coming closer, firing off shots and she has to duck to keep from getting shot. The tires screeched against the wet ground and she peeled out onto the main road, and she only hit two people in the process, not that she felt badly about it. The rain made it impossible to see the road and she was shocked at how her hands could be so steady when her head was beating so hard.
Jen was too nervous to put one hand to her chest to stop the bleeding there but with every breath she could feel the wounded skin pulling and stretching painfully. Instead she just drove back they way they had come, glancing into the rearview every so often as she left the little town behind. No one was following her that she could see, and there were no other headlights on the road. No sign of their captors, but no sign of Luke either. Her her hands were white-knuckling the steering wheel and she mentally struggled with her emotions. Emotions were weakness and she couldn't afford to be weak right now, but her whole chest was tight with worry. If she hadn't come with him they might not be in this situation. If she hadn't stayed with the group in the first place, maybe this would have turned out differently.
Jen is so lost in thought that she almost misses the driveway, but she spins the car and almost slams into a tree, but manages to even out and race up the driveway to the large empty house. She had no way of knowing if there were people inside, or monsters inside, but it had to be better than where they had just been. When she pulls at the wires and turns the car off, she glances around frantically through the dark and the rain for her own car, but she doesn't see one. So, she opens the door and stumbles out, going down on one knee and feeling mud splash up on her. Her hand finally goes to her chest and she wonders just how much blood she's lost. Enough the make her lightheaded.
Jen doesn't have her guns or her knives. Those had been taken away from her. That doesn't stop her from barging into the house, slamming her shoulder against the door when it doesn't open. She falls inside and it only makes her other injuries hurt even worse, leaving her blood on the ground along with a few wooden splinters. The door hung open and swung in the strong breeze that accompanied the thunder and lightening. Inside, everything was quiet. The windows were closed and the house smelled stale, like it had been closed up and forgotten.
The locked door made her think maybe Luke wasn't here yet, but then again, maybe he had used the back door. Her footsteps are heavy and clumsy as she tears through the house haphazardly, calling out his name. "Luke!" she shouted, holding onto doorways and leaving behind bloody handprints as she peered around corners. She tore through the first floor, and the then second. As she raced back down the stairs she almost fell, but managed to keep herself upright. Jen wound up back in the living room. Her hands went to her hair, the back of which was wet with blood from where her head had smacked against the asphalt.
Jen didn't know what to do. Her weight shifted slowly from foot to foot as she forced her brain to come up with some kind of plan. Did she go back for him? Did she wait here? Did she leave and hold the line without him? What if he was dead and she had no choice? Her hands came over to cover her mouth, pressed together as if she were praying, and the human emotion she fought so hard against welled up in her eyes.
There was a sound from the back of the house like a door being slammed open. "JEN!" came a man's thundering voice from the doorway. Jen spun as Luke came rushing into the room. Her shoulders instantly relaxed and her hands dropped as she looked at him. He had a hand pressed to his lower abdomen and there was blood staining his shirt. His face was a mess of blood and bruises and he was limping slightly. Still, even through all of that, she could see his chest heave with his own sigh of relief.
Jen didn't think. It seemed when he called her name she rarely did. She just went to him without a second thought. Moving fast hurt, but she couldn't go slow. Luke took a few strides forward to meet her and wrapped one strong arm around her as she threw both of hers around his neck. It hurt the gouges on her chest and no doubt it wasn't comfortable for him either. She fit perfectly just under his chin and the metallic scent of their blood was filling her nose. she could feel the way is hand fisted in the back of her shirt and her own hands smoothed the back of his hair without thinking.
She doesn't bother saying what she'd thought might have happened, because she doesn't want to think about it. Instead she just sucks in a breath and squeezes her eyes shut, contenting herself with the steady sound of his heartbeat for a moment before she pulls away. Jen feels lightheaded and dizzy, but she pushes Luke towards a couch, forcing him to sit before her hands pulls at the one he has clamped over side. "Let me see."
Luke's free hand is tugging at the top of her shredded t-shirt and his jaw works like he's clenching his teeth, but Jen just bats his hands away. "I heal fast. Let's fix you first." she tells him, peeling his hand away and immediately blood continues to leak out but on closer examination it doesn't look incredibly deep. A few stitches and he might be alright. "Wait here." she says quickly. Running as fast as her tired legs will carry her, Jen tears out back of the house to her car. Surprisingly, it hadn't been raided and it made her wonder for a moment what the hell kind of rules those people followed, but she didn't dwell on it. She didn't want to think about that place right now. Inside her car, there's blood all over the driver's seat and for the first time it's not hers. In the glove compartment she pulls out the small and seriously lacking med kit she had with her.
When she gets back inside she grabs a dish towel hanging in the kitchen before kneeling back down in front of Luke and the action makes her wince because it puts pressure on her bloody, skinned knees, but she simply pushes his shirt up and pushes him back.
"Jen, you're-" Jen just presses the dish towel to his side and holds him down with her hand before giving him a serious look.
"I can and will hold you down if I have to. Let me make sure you're not going to die and then you can worry about my bullshit." she says flatly. She had left one friend to die with a similar wound in his side. After a moment that is surprisingly quiet between them, she peels away the bloody dishtowel and grabs what she needs to stitch him up. The bottle of iodine is on it's last legs, but she thinks it's enough to do this at the very least.
Jen gives Luke no more warning than to put his hand on her shoulder so he has something to grip while she works. When she poked the needle through his skin he let's out a pained groan and she feels the pressure as his hand squeezes her shoulder tightly, enough that by the time this was over she would probably have bruises left there in the exact shape of his fingertips. She doesn't even look up at his face. She works silently, diligently, pulling the needle and thread through the broken skin and pulling it back together. It seems to take only seconds and at the same time it stretches for eternity. When she's finally done, she realizes her hands had been shaking, and maybe that's why it had seemed more difficult that she thought.
It was a bullet, something that had grazed him. Nothing left in him, but Jen could only stare at the bloody, haphazardly stitched wound. If if had been just an inch to the left, he would have nearly impossible to fix. He would have wound up just like Duncan. Tears fill her eyes and she's ashamed that they're there at all. It was far too human. So Jen just drops her head and rests it against Luke's knee, taking a few shuddering breaths.
Luke's hand comes up to hold her head gently, because he's never seen her looking like this. On her knees with her head bowed, her breathing sounding as if she may burst into tears. He wants to heal her, to hold her even, and for as much as he's tried to come to terms with those feelings when it came to Jen, he still finds them disconcerting. His fingers feel warm and wet, and when he pulls his hand away from her hair, even in the dark he can see her fresh blood on his hands.
"Jen." Luke says flatly. She had given him stitches, and now it was her turn. Between the way her head was bleeding and the slices across her chest and the bruise on her face, he hardly knew where to start, but he would start and he wouldn't stop until she was recovering. The woman at his knee doesn't raise her head, and she's still, far too still for his liking. The kind of still that has him ignoring the stitches as he leans forward, ignoring the pain that lances through his side as he pulls her forward. "JEN!" he shouts, but her eyes are closed.
Jen can't hear anything. Blood falls from the ends of her hair and onto the couch as Luke lays her down there. The only comfort is that her chest is still rising and falling, but it's a slow motion. Luke is tired, his body worn and run ragged, but there's still a spark of something in him that knows he's capable of fixing this. The only light in the small, dark living room, comes fro his hands as they travel over her broken skin and the only sound is that of their breathing and the patter of blood dripping from the both of them.
"Let your faith guide your faith" - Carry Your Will (The Mowgli's)
There was too many to try and fight back, so they had complied with the order to keep their hands in the air as dark, shadowy hands crept out and disarmed them both, collecting their knives, guns and spare ammo. The muscle in Luke's jaw was tight and jumping as he tried to control his anger, and Jen's eyes stayed narrowed as she tried to memorize the bloody faces looking down at them.
They were still standing a few feet apart, and though Jen usually appreciated distance between them, right now she hated it. Her eyes fell away from the windows and met Luke's. She didn't want to speak, didn't want to give the people threatening them any reason to pull the trigger. Instead of speaking, she let her eyes flicker past his shoulder towards the way they came. They could make a run for the car, maybe. It wasn't a good plan, but it was the first that came to mind. Luke's head moved slightly to the left and then back to the center, effectively dismissing that plan.
"Why have you come here?" someone shouted from above them. Neither Jen nor Luke looked up to find the speaker. She wasn't sure why Luke didn't look away, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his face, terrified that when she did he would disappear or fall to the ground with a bullet between his eyes.
"We mean you no harm." he calls out, and Jen can see the way the muscles in his neck tense and he's working hard to control his anger. Still, he didn't answer their question, so Jen spoke up.
"We just needed some gasoline." she offers up. True, now she had only confirmed that they had driven here, but since they had clearly seen her siphoning gas she figured they already knew that.
"They were stealing from us!" someone shouted, and immediately a wave of chattering overtook the people still leaning out of windows. Jen's gaze pulled away from Luke as she stared up at the people.
"We weren't stealing! We thought this place was abandoned and everyone was dead!" she defended, and it was the truth. She had never stolen... since the world ended. The crowds didn't sound convinced. If anything they just sounded disgusted.
"So, you simply thought you were robbing the dead?" the main speaker countered and Jen just groaned in frustration.
"That is NOT what I said!" she shouted angrily.
"SILENCE!" someone shouted.
"Jen." Luke hissed through gritted teeth. He wasn't sure what offended him more. These people with their weapons pointed at him, or the way they had them trained on the woman across from him. Her brown eyes moved back to his face and he held them, willing her to relax. Every part of him wanted to move against these people, to fight back and get them both the hell out of here. Jen sighed and gave him a small nod.
"Serenity?" she asked softly. The serenity to accept the things they could not change. Right now, the only way to change their situation was to get themselves killed. Whatever was happening, if they wanted to survive, they needed to keep their heads and not stir up this crowd. He nods his head towards her in confirmation. She looks no more pleased with their options than he is, but appreciates all the more the way they seem to understand one another.
A side door to one of the buildings opens and a small group of men and women come out. From above, the main speaker's voice rings out again, bouncing off the buildings. "You have broken our laws. Therefore you will be taken and held in the station with the rest of the criminals until the time of your trial, where we will decide how you are to be punished."
The crowd cheered like they were at a sporting event and Jen's eyes went wide for a moment and she turned quickly, backing up to Luke and he walked forward until they were shoulder to shoulder. There was no plan between them, but both their hands were lowered and now hung at their sides as people walked towards them, holding handcuffs. "I could break those." Jen said quietly, glancing up at him. "We could run." she tells him. Luke looks down and he hates seeing that flash of fear in her eyes.
"We can't out run bullets." he reminds her, and his own expression is hard, his voice firm, because this was simply an insult they would have to live through. Jen sucks in a deep breath as the people come closer, and despite the blood on their faces and dirty clothes, they talk like cops and she wonders if they once were or if they've just seen one too many movies.
"Get up against the car. Hands behind your backs." the bark. Jen closes her eyes, because she hated hearing those words. They're already moving, but rough hands shove they forward and yank their wrists back into the handcuffs. Jen hisses as the cold steel pinches and tightens, her cheeks burning with shame that she knows she shouldn't be feeling. Looking over and seeing Luke's hand equally bound, she wishes she had his ability to appear so outwardly calm. Behind her back, her hands are clenched into fists as she fights the urge to break the chains on the cuffs
"No marks." comes the deep voice of a man who grips her arm and begins pulling her down the street. Jen glances back to see Luke being dragged along in a similar fashion. "Means we gotta take extra special care to make sure that you behave yourself." he says with a smile that reveals disgusting, rotting teeth. The words are followed with a laugh that sends his foul breath into her face, and Jen has been around enough dead bodies now that she doesn't gag but her stomach flips unpleasantly. "Kev, what do ya' got back there with the big'un?"
"White marks." came the squeaky voice of a tall, slender man who along with a few others, shoved Luke forward down the road towards what looked like an old police station. "You and your little girlfriend are in big trouble, compadre. 'Round here we got laws."
"And we got all kinds of ways of dealin' with people who break those laws." the man holding Jen says, leaning close to her as if the words are a secret. A million things came to Jen's mind to say, but she just leaned her face away as far as she could so he wouldn't invade her space and walked in silence into the station. Her mouth stayed shut as they were led through the doors which were cracked and covered in blood, with a few pieces of scalp and hair stuck in between the glass as though someone's heard had been slammed hard into it.
There were bloody bootprints on the floor and the air was hot and stuffy as they were led to the holding cells. They were small and situated side by side. Jen was shoved into one with her cuffs still on, but Luke was relieved if his. The stoic brunette didn't ask why hers weren't removed, but they told her anyway. "Don't even think about goin' all she-hulk on this place, lady." the man who had been called Kev told her. "You so much as break those cuffs, and we'll shoot the big guy." he said. If there was any more ice in Jen's eyes she would have been frozen solid. The metal made a grating noise as the door slid shut and Jen just sighed, watching the men walk off as she sat down on the bench.
The floor was covered in dried blood and urine, and she even spotted a few teeth. Glancing up, she looked at Luke. He was rubbing at his wrists and watching as the men waked off, laughing cursing and saying things about the pair of them that Jen really didn't want to pay attention to. He turned and looked at her but Jen had already turned her gaze to the far wall, past the bars of the cage she found herself in. It made her skin crawl to sit in here, a place she had sworn to herself she would never be again.
"I'm sorry." she says quietly, still not looking his way so he won't see the way guilt and shame are reddening her cheeks. She turns her head and rubs her nose against her shoulder, because it never fails that once you can't use your hands, your nose itches.
"This isn't your fault. I was keeping watch." he says quietly, his hands flexing into fists and then back open as he looks around, presumably for some kind of weakness he can exploit.
"I was the one who stopped here-" Jen reminds him gently. They could have gone farther and chanced it. Maybe found a less macabre town to try and raid.
"Stop." Luke says, and Jen doesn't look up even when she sees his boots walking closer to the bars that separated them. She just shook her head. Guilt wasn't going to help them, but she couldn't help it. She was feeling a million things and none of the emotions clashing inside of her were good. It was even harder because Luke was here. Her weak point, and the fuckers already knew it. They needed a plan, but she was frightened to do anything if it meant he might get shot. She could take a bullet, and had on occasion. She could survive more than he could, and it wasn't a comment on his strength, simply a fact of what they were.
"Jen." he calls her name, and even though his voice is firm with frustration, she can hear how he's trying to be kind to her and it only twists the knife deeper. "We'll figure something out."
Jen doesn't say anything, because she has nothing to offer except pessimism. Fighting she could do. Convincing people of her innocence? that hadn't been possible even before the world had gone batshit insane. "Jen." Luke calls her name more sharply this time, like calling a soldier to attention, to action. He was giving her structure, something to cling to. It was the lifeline she needed. Raising her head, she met his eyes and nodded.
"I heard ya', Snowflake. Settle the fuck down. I'm thinking." she tells him, and there's a smirk playing about the edges of her lips. Something small and barely there that's just for him. He doesn't return it and she didn't expect him to, but he turns away and walks to the front of his cell, crossing his arms and staring beyond the bars.
They were left there for a few hours, and every fifteen or twenty minutes one of the men would walk by, or someone would come in the station doors. A few times, they were dragging someone else out of cells that must have been at the other end. The other captives seemed less cooperative than Jen and Luke. They kicked and bit and fought tooth and nail to get free, thought ultimately they were beaten into submission and dragged out if need be. Their bodies were always bloody. Blood was everywhere here. Dark dried stuff and something fresh and bright red.
After one particularly brutal beating, Jen watched as the men dragged their victim outside before walking over to the bars separating her and Luke. "You, uh, don't have anything yet, do you?" she asked. On her own, Jen hadn't been able to come up with much. She could break her handcuffs and try to pry the bars to their cells open fast enough, but then there was still the issue of getting out the doors and back to their car, which was still pitifully low on gas.
"Not much." Luke admitted, walking over to stand just in front of her. Jen sighed and rested her forehead against the bars for a moment.
"Well, cooperating bought us some time. I think." she says and then shakes her head as she looks up at him. "At least they don't seem so fascinated with beating the shit out of us. For now."
"It's a punishment system. Not justice." Luke said, and Jen frowned, wondering what he had gleaned from their surrounding while she had been plotting escape routes. "They seek to cause pain. To torture. I think death is a side effect of what they do to people." he explains to her. Jen looks around her cell once more, and then looks out to the rest of the building she can see. There was blood everywhere, signs of violence.
"Awesome." she says dryly. There's a small seed of fear sitting in her chest with creeping tendrils beginning to squeeze at her heart. Jen's lips purse and she shifts in place, rolling her shoulders as best she can to try and relieve the discomfort. "So, we're looking at getting the shit beat out of us no matter what?" she asks. "And then if we're lucky, they'll let us leave."
"Which is doubtful. Most likely they will find other infractions and simply repeat the process. These people have lost their souls to violence and blood." Luke tells her seriously. Jen rolls her eyes and sucks in a breath.
"They'll separate us too. Bet ya' anything. Those pricks." she spits out bitterly. She's seething, and terrified. Luke's hand comes through the bars and rests on her cheek. Behind her back, Jen's fingers curl and she wishes she could touch him back, even thought the bars. Instead she just leans her face into his hand and closes her eyes as he brushes his thumb along her cheekbone.
"So, let's say we take the beating." Jen says, opening her eyes and looking at him carefully. Already, she can see on his face that he doesn't like the idea, but their options are too limited for him to bother saying so yet. "We're gonna need to run after. We're gonna be fucked up and hurt, but if we can catch them off guard and make a break for it. Hell, maybe we can even get out before they work us over too good."
Luke is listening and Jen's mind is buzzing as she tries to come up with some kind of a plan. "So, you would take my car-"
"No." comes his voice, flat and final as he pulls his hand away from her face. The skin there feels colder without the warmth he provided. Jen frowns.
"You got a better plan?" she asks him with an arched eyebrow.
"You want to split up. It's the epitome of stupid." he says over his shoulder, turning to face the cinderblock wall on the other side of the small 5x4 cell.
"Well, it's all we got." she hisses, not wanting to be possibly overheard. Luke is quiet, and she takes that as her cue to continue. "You would take my car and I would hot wire the one I was gonna get gas from anyway." she explains. "We backtrack, meet back up-"
A loud crash of thunder practically shakes the building and Jen jumps, for one horrible moment thinking they were being attacked. She gives herself a moment to breathe before continuing, and now Luke has turned back to look at her, waiting for the rest of her half cooked plan.
"Where?" he asked, with a frown still on his face. Jen shakes her head and turns away.
"Farmhouse. About six miles back. Set off the road. We passed it on our way here." she explains. "It backs up into the fog. We could lose them in it if we had to." she says, beginning to pace lightly. Jen hadn't even realized it was raining, and it doesn't sit well with her because weather changes usually come with something more ominous. At least for the past few months. "That was the last good place to hole up that I saw. I marked it on the map, so unless they raided our car, you should be good." she explains, leaning her shoulder against the concrete side of her cell, keeping her back to Luke.
"I don't like it. There's too many things that can go wrong." he says after a moment of silence. Jen sighs and scuffs at some of the blood with the toe of her boots.
"I don't like it either." she tells him, and then turns to look at him. "But unless you have something better, it's what we're going to have to work with."
"If we're separated I won't even know if you made it out. I might wind up leaving you behind." he says, his voice low and tight, teeth gritted against the anger he feels at being put in this situation. Jen smiles only slightly, because he hadn't once in that questioned whether or not he would make it out. He believed it of himself. He believed he could pull off his half of it. She smirks and walks closer to the bars.
"Have a little faith." she tells him. "Just get to the farmhouse. We hide and avoid, live to fight another day. Anyone follow you, disappear into the fog." Jen tips her head. "C'mon. I thought you liked it when I surprised you." she says, her voice low. Luke crossed the cell with just one step until he was looking down at her through the bars. For a long moment, he just stares at her, and she watches as his mind works over their limited options. The chances of reasoning with these people were slim. They had a mob mentality. Jen's plan was reckless and had a million holes, but it was their only real choice.
"You'd better be there." he says quietly. Jen nods once and then shifts a bit, turning herself around and pressing her butt against the bars.
"Back left pocket. My keys." she tells him. Luke's hand reaches down into her pocket, searching for the key ring so he could hook his finger around them. His other hand reaches through to steady her waist. In this position, with her hands still bound behind her, she could almost touch him, but she doesn't try to.
"And here I thought this was going to be your version of another kiss goodbye." he says, with a dry, resigned kind of humor. Jen's mouth twists into a smirk.
"Luke, we get out of this, I'll do a whole lot more than kiss you." she says, and she doesn't know what possesses her to make that kind of claim except maybe fear. Fear of never getting the chance to see or kiss or touch him ever again. He's still for a moment, his hand still in the back pocket of her jeans, but she doesn't move first. Instead she just waits until he pulls the keys out and tucks them into his pocket before she turns to look at him again. There's an unreadable expression on his face as he looks down at her, but it's softer than it has been.
"I'm not kidding, Jen." he says seriously.
"Do you even know how to kid?" she asks, purposefully trying to lighten the heavy mood between them now. It feels too much like a goodbye. He frowns and shakes his head, apparently not interested in having her laugh away what he had to say.
"If you're not there, I'm coming right back here and-"
"I'll be there." she says. Jen is sure of only a handful of things, but this she was certain of. "This is not where I die. This is not where you die. This is just another uphill battle."
"Faith." he agrees with a nod, his own lips curving slightly as they both try to come to peace with the decision. There's the sound of doors opening and they both move away from each other before their captors approach the bars. The larger one with bad teeth who had brought Jen smiled at the pair of them.
"Blue masquerade, strangers look on. When will they learn this loneliness?" - Cry Little Sister (Gerard McMann)
Jen squinted in the bright sunlight and banged a bit on the center console in hopes that the air conditioning would improve. Getting out of the fog had been great, but now they were in the hot, summer sun and it made her small car feel more like a sweatbox. Once they had woken up at the motel, they had decided that skirting the edges of fog, at least in the general area, seemed their best bet.
When Jen had woken up in the bed, she hadn't wanted to get up. At some point, she had turned in her sleep and was curled on her side, face resting against the pillow as she laid there in the dark. Her whole body had been turned towards Luke, with her back to the door and nothing about that had felt good. It felt like her body had betrayed her and chosen him over safety, as if she needed reminding of that. As usual, she had woken a scant few minutes before the stopwatch alarm went off. She usually spent that time just laying in the dark, preparing herself to keep moving. It was what she was built for, what she had done for almost an entire year before meeting that group.
Instead, this time, she had let her eyes adjust just watched Luke sleep. It was rare that she saw that, a moment where he looked completely relaxed. It had used to be that when he slept she stood outside and held their line, keeping watch. His face was devoid of all signs of worry, except for the few lines here and there that would most likely become permanent markings. Last time she had bothered looking at herself in a mirror closely, she had noted the same early signs of aging on her own skin. His bare chest rose and fell in time with his even breathing. She hadn't made a sound as she watched him, didn't move, she just took a few minutes to toe the line they were somehow maintaing.
She wasn't sure if he had woken because she had been staring, or simply because neither of them could sleep for very long anymore. But his eyes opened slowly and he just turned his head, catching her eye. Jen felt a small bundle of nerves in her stomach when he caught her, but they said nothing. At this point, they were lying so close, if she moved her hand just an inch forward she could have touched him and bridged the gap completely, but she didn't and neither did he. Instead they just laid in the dark for another short moment, watching each other until the alarm went off, and then both quickly fell back into the roles they were meant to have.
All of that was forgotten, burned away in the heat of the day. Jen held the wheel with her knees, ignoring the arched eyebrow she received from the passenger seat as she pulled her gray-streaked hair up off her neck. "It's hot as shit." she noted grumpily. Luke made a small noise, but didn't comment. It wasn't really necessary when all she was doing was stating the obvious anyway. As her hands once again found the wheel, she sniffed and wondered if there was a pair of sunglasses still tucked in the car somewhere.
"Stop." Luke said suddenly and with such authority that Jen immediately slammed on the brakes. It wasn't the first time he'd ordered her to do so, and usually it meant trouble. His head was turned to look at the woods on the other side of the car and the fog beyond. They were both silent for a long moment. The car was still running, but Jen's eyes monitored the gas gauge. Almost five minutes had passed when she finally spoke up.
"You got anythin'? If you don't we need to keep goin' and find some gas for the car before we screw ourselves." she noted, and though some people might have been bothered by the blunt delivery, she thinks Luke knows her well enough to know when she's being factual and when she's being a dick, and it's strange that just accepts that. A small, frustrated breath leaves him as his eyes pull away from the tree line.
"Go." he instructs with a nod, and Jen doesn't ask if he's sure, because she feels like it would be an insult. If he wasn't sure, he wouldn't have said it. She doesn't doubt that he saw something, it was just a matter of whether or not it was worth going after, or if it would take them off course.
Jen had her eyes out for a gas station, or anyplace with a lot of cars, but the route they had taken had them on small backroads lined with woods and big farm houses set back against the forest. Neither of them particularly wanted to get off the road though. It was disconcerting enough that they were out of the fog, and the absence of menacing sounds was putting Jen even more on edge than usual. It would take getting used to, the same way the haunting screams had taken getting used to.
"I thought I would be glad to be rid of the fog's noise." Luke remarks quietly. "I think this is just as disturbing."
"Preach it, Snowflake." Jen says, nodding her head in complete agreement. Luke gives her a look at her choice of nickname and she meets his gaze with a small smirk, the edges of her mouth tipping up momentarily. She thinks he might be rolling his eyes, but hers go back to the road. It wasn't easy to ignore the tension between them, but they both seemed capable. The mission came first and she thought there was a mutual respect their for putting duty and purpose before any pesky, personal emotions. This wasn't the time to be human anyway.
As they drove the sky began to change colors. Jen smiled a bit to herself at simply being able to watch the sky get painted in different colors for the first time in months. Her eyes kept flickering nervously to the gas gauge. If they didn't find something soon to supplement the gas, they were going to have to ditch the car.
The sky was the deep purple hue that hailed the end of another day and beginning of a new night. One more day the world had kept turning. One more day without the world being claimed for heaven or hell. One more day to keep fighting. They were finally seeing more homes and businesses, and it was beginning to take the shape of a small town. Jen wasn't sure what was worse, seeing the kinds of ghosts towns that looked as if nothing had ever happened at all, or the ones like this, with boarded up windows and blood in the streets. Sites of lost battles, the kind like they had seen at Quantico. Some bodies lay along the roads, some were no more than bones, and Jen supposed the others had walked off to their own gruesome fate.
The area seemed quiet, so Jen made the decision without a word and pulled the car over, parking it beside a defunct fire hydrant and a decomposing body. turning the engine off she let out a quiet sigh and looked around at what she could still make out in the lingering light.
"What are you doing?" Luke asked, a slight frown on his face more from confusion than actual disapproval.
"We can't just drive until we hit empty." Jen says, gathering up some weapons and climbing out of the car. Luke follows suit, though his back is straight and his eyes scan the area for any possible threats as he listens. There's still an eerie feeling to the place, though he senses nothing demonic which was only partially reassuring. Jen double checked the knives and guns strapped to her before walking to the trunk to grab an empty fuel canister. "If we don't stop now and we run into trouble, we might run out when we're not ready and wind up stranded and surrounded. There's a good chance that there's some left over gas in this town. We'll get it. Fill up the car. Be back on our way." Jen tells him with a nod.
Luke nods at her logic. It was nothing that had occurred to him because he left the matters of the car to her judgement and he was the one that directed where they went. It seemed an equal balance that worked for both of them. As Jen walks around to his side of the car, weapons strapped across her body and empty red canister in her hands, he moves closer to walk beside her. His movements were slower than hers, if only so she could keep her pace beside him more easily. The gun between his hands was a reassuring weight as he scanned the area around them with a practiced, soldier's eye. The lack of noise made it seem all the worse.
Jen moved slightly away from him as they walked down what looked like the main street. Luke wasn't hugely pleased with her not being close enough for him to reach out and grab should something get too close, but he was secure in the knowledge that she was a strong fighter and could handle herself. Their footsteps echoed off the empty buildings as they walked slowly down the road. The business fronts were boarded up, some broken into, others with messages scrawled across the boards. 'Leave Us Be' or 'Dead Inside' and one that simple said 'God Is Dead'.
Jen sucked in a breath even though she felt sick to her stomach. How many other places were there like this all over the world. Towns where people had tried to survive and simply failed, places where countless lives had been lost. Some days, she felt as if they the tide was turning, but recently all she had been seeing was a lot of death. Truthfully, Luke was the only other living person she had seen since they had left the group. Looking over to him now, she's grateful she had made the choice to come with him. Despite the things they were seeing, despite the wrong reasons she might have made it, these were the front lines and this is where she should have been all along.
There was a parking lot that seemed fairly untouched, as if the cars had simply been left there and forgotten. Jen called out Luke's name, though she didn't have to raise her voice much and crouched beside one of the larger cars to begin siphoning gas, feeding the plastic tubing in and placing her mouth at the other end. Luke faced out, keeping an eye on the area. Looking down at a nearby body, he frowned down at the stain on the ground. Crouching low, her brushed his fingers against the asphalt. They came away red with fresh blood. Fresh blood. Recent death.
"Jen." he said, his voice low and urgent and he rubbed the substance between his fingers.
"Luke." Jen replied, and her voice was lower than usual and held a note of fear he hadn't expected to hear. Turning fast he looks at her, but she appears to be fine. No one is around them, except her eyes are up, scanning the windows of the building on either side of them. Men and women, blood smeared on their faces like warpaint, standing in every visible window watching them. Some with guns pointed, others just staring. The only visible marks they possessed, were black. Surrounded. Completely surrounded.
To the ends of the earth would you follow me?
There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see.
It had been weeks since she and Luke had left the group in search of the missing members. So far they had turned up nothing. Driving slowly through thick, dense fog that seemed to stretch endlessly. First they had backtracked to the police station, and when that had yielded nothing, they began a systematic scouting of the immediate area, spiraling outward. Jen's map had been covered with areas marked off as empty as well as a dot now for the last known location of the group. The high school they had left, the place where Jen had kissed the man now riding shotgun silently in her car. Or maybe he had kissed her. Either way there had been a kiss and it was not only one giant breech of their unspoken contract, but it also hadn't been repeated or spoken about since it happened.
That was a good thing, really. They were both far too focused on what they were doing now. Tracking the remainders of the horde that had attacked them, in hopes that perhaps the dead heads were following their missing members. Jen wasn't sure what would happen at this point if they actually found them. Maybe they would track down the other half of the group. Jen wasn't sure if her purpose was back there anymore, and now she wonders if it ever truly was or if she was simply there to bide her time until now. What she was doing now felt easier to her, somehow. Not Luke. The man she had chosen to follow off into the fog was the one piece of the puzzle that she couldn't quite wrap her head around, not that she often tried to. The tracking, the heading off into the unknown for the sole purpose of retrieving some lost pieces of humanity and killing any monster that got in her path... that's what felt right to her.
"Whoa." Jen says quietly as her headlights bounce off a sign in the distance. It's dark enough that it's noticeable, and it's the first time in the hours she had spent driving today that it's happened.
"What?" Luke asks, not even glancing her way and instead leaning forward. "What did you see?" he asks, his voice low and serious, more alert than he had been mere seconds ago.
"That's the point. I can see." Jen says, slowing the car a bit. The fog had been thiner the farther they drove but still it lingered. They had been driving for so long and the change had been so gradual, she hadn't even noticed until just now. The car rolls to a stop and Jen glances at Luke and they both seem to have the same idea, grabbing a few weapons and opening up their doors.
Stepping out, it feels just like any other warm, summer night. Jen leaves her door ajar, just in case she needs to jump back in and she leaves the engine running. It could still be a trap, though it didn't much feel like one. About twenty feet behind the car, it's still there, hovering like a barrier. A wall of fog that engulfed everything behind it. Jen and Luke both walk closer, towards the back of the car, staring as if they were both waiting for something to pop out of the mist and drag them back, like perhaps Hell hadn't quite realized they'd escaped yet.
It had been so long since they'd been outside of that soup. Jen tilted her head back and her jaw hung slack. Reaching out she touched Luke's arm and pointed skywards. "Look at that." she says. Stars. Bright and brilliant. They hadn't disappeared after all. They were still there. There was still sky and for some reason that made Jen smile and sigh with a kind of relief. Maybe because for the first time in months, the world didn't feel like enemy territory.
"Do you think they made it this far?" Luke asked. Jen's sure he's already going over all of the possibilities in his own head as she's going over them herself in an attempt to answer that question. Jen puts her gun back in her holster.
"You sure you want to know what I think?" she asks, and it's clear from her tone that he might not like the answer. Luke's mouth draws into a tight line as he turns to look at her, and he inclines his head once. It was true that he didn't always like what she said, but she almost always had some kind of point, even if it was one he didn't agree with. Jen shrugs and looks back skywards. "I think if they made it out of that fuckin' fog... makes sense they wouldn't have gone back." she says, and though she doesn't intend for the words to be gentle, because she doesn't feel the need to be gentle with how she speaks to him, they come out that way anyway. "I mean, Samson is a good guy... but he's got his brother, and his brother's got the Robyn girl..." Jen trails off and shrugs her shoulders, already walking back to the driver's seat. It changed nothing. She was still going to help Luke find them, because maybe they did need help, or maybe the road to them would hold more things for her to fight.
"Samson would not abandon his group." Luke says stiffly, and Jen's not sure why he feels such a loyalty to the man. She liked him fine enough, but there were few people she held such an unwavering loyalty towards. She had a feeling it tied in with his purpose, so she didn't question it too closely. Both their doors close but the car doesn't move yet.
"Okay, but what if he found more people." Jen says with a shrug. "People who needed his leadership... his help." she says, glancing his way and she puts the car back into gear. "You really think he'd lead them back through the fog looking for the other half of the group when they might not find them? Or do you think he would just do his damnedest to get to California and hope that the others make it too?" she asks. Luke is silent, and whether he's just thinking that over or too annoyed to respond didn't bother her. They spent a lot of time in a comfortable silence.
As they continued down the fog-free road, the headlights bounced off another sign. It was a sign for some kind of a motel 6 or other highway-adjacent travel lodge. Jen's eyes remained focused on the road as she drove, and she could probably go for a few more hours, but when Luke glanced at her he noticed the darkness and rings beneath her brown eyes. She never complained, but she did more of the driving than he did. He remembered how, but over a year spent away from the driver's wheel had left him only slightly clumsy and when they were traveling through the fog, often with the possibility of needing to use the car to escape quickly, it seemed more pragmatic to let her drive.
"We can stop here for a few hours." he said, pointing to the sign. Jen's eyebrows pulled together and glanced over at him.
"Ya' sure?" she asked. Jen had honestly been expecting him to press for them to find the borders of the fog and mark it out on the map, to find exactly how much space it covered. If only because the thought had crossed her own mind. Luke nodded once more.
"We can sleep and then continue." he said. Jen didn't argue with him. For as used to she was to catching only a few hours of sleep and eating with one hand still on the wheel, she couldn't help the small flutter of hope she felt at the idea of laying down in a bed, even if she didn't sleep in it, because she never slept in beds. Not anymore.
They turned the lights off before they coasted into the parking lot, wanting to conceal their entrance as much as possible just in case they were met with monsters, dead heads or just unfriendly survivors. So far they'd gotten away with just minor cuts, scrapes and bruises. Between Luke's emergency healing and Jen's rapid recovery, if anything happened to her she figured she'd either be fine or dead on the spot. Luke was who she was worried about.
It was a small place and though it appeared to have been raided and ransacked, it was devoid of all lfe, natural or reanimated. Jen grabbed her backpack out of the car and Luke brought the chainsaw gun. He didn't use it often, but he still had it with him. Jen wasn't sure if that a sentimental thing, or simply the belief that all weapons were good weapons to have. They took the room closest to the car and closed the door. The two double beds looked as though they had seen better days and the small television was smashed.
Luke set about barricading the door while Jen moved a mattress off one of the beds and propped it up in front of the window. The box spring beneath was stained, but she ignored that and pulled a stopwatch out of her pocket. They had found it at the first place they had crashed at, and by crashed she meant sleeping in shifts. It was a bit better now with the watch. If the place was secure enough they could both sleep for a decent amount of time.
"Four hours okay with you?" she asked, already entering the numbers. She wasn't sure how long this thing would last, but for a s long as it did she planned on taking full advantage.
"That's fine." Luke agreed as he placed a lamp that miraculously hadn't been broken right in front of the door. If anything even slightly opened the door, the lamp would fall and no doubt wake one if not both of them up. Sighing, Jen placed the stopwatch on the small nightstand between both beds, or rather the remaining bed and the box spring. She grabbed the pillows and blankets from the first bed and tossed them on the ground beside her backpack and sleeping bag. Walking to the bathroom, she turned a knob at the sink and stuck her hand beneath the faucet, but nothing came out.
"Of course not." she said, walking back out and taking her shoes off. Luke was already sitting on the bed, though she didn't look like he was going to sleep. He rarely fell asleep before her, and she wasn't sure if it was because he had trouble sleeping or because he didn't like both of them being asleep at the same time. Still, in her book, a nice four hour nap was better than a split, two hour nap. She's too tired to even both eating and instead peels her shirt off. With no ventilation and it being what she thought was the tail end of July, she knew she would just sweat right through it while she slept anyway. She didn't bother telling Luke not to look, because this wasn't the first time she'd done that and it wasn't as if anything was going to happen between them.
Stretching out on the floor she groaned as her muscles began to relax slightly, rolling out the ache in the shoulder with the bullet scar. Slightly above her, the bed creaked as Luke began to make himself comfortable. It was dark and quiet for a long time, with the only noises being the ones of them both getting comfortable. It was more difficult for Jen.
"That's not good for your back." came a monotone comment from above her. Jen didn't even bother to open her eyes.
"You a chiropractor now?" she asks dryly before her mouth opens on a yawn. There a sound like a small, slightly frustrated sigh from the man before he speaks again.
"Just don't want to deal with you acting like an old lady complaining about her back and her joints if we have to fight something." he says flatly. Jen's eyes pop open.
"That was one goddamn time." she says, giving an annoyed look towards his bed even if he couldn't see it. He doesn't reply and she just groans. "Well, what? You want me to take up yoga or some shit?" she asks sarcastically.
Luke is quiet for another long moment, and Jen thinks he's probably asleep already, so she closes her eyes again and settles herself somewhat. When his voice cuts through the dark again, her eyes flutter back open. "Just come sleep up here and spare us both the trouble of you arguing about it." he says. It's on the tip of her tongue to argue, because they'd kissed. Because she was only in a bra from the waist up. Because she doesn't like getting used to things she can't keep and that included him every bit as much as it included nice, soft and maybe somewhat lumpy motel beds. Ultimately, her sore back won and she cursed her own weakness as she stood up and climbed into the bed with him. Neither of them were bothering to pull covers overtop of them. There was a decent amount of space left between them, and in even in the dark Jen could see that he wasn't wearing a shirt either. Her eyes lingered longer than they should have before she closed them again. That would just go onto the list of things they were never going to talk about.
"Goodnight, Luke." she said quietly as exhaustion began to win out over whatever others thoughts were bouncing around when she was laying this close to him.
"Goodnight, Jen." he said quietly from his side of the bed. If she smirked in the dark, it was alright, because he couldn't see it.
Samson sitting up, worried and stressed. Lydia just puts her hands on his shoulders and guides him back so he can lay down and try to get some sleep. He forces himself to close his eyes and she just smiles sweetly.
Kris & Jimmy
Kris comes back in from patrols. Jimmy had been waiting up, but he passed out, with a can of food still in his hand. Kris just smirks to herself and takes the can away. Jimmy just barely wakes up as she takes off her weapons and lays down with him. He tosses an arm over her and kisses her cheek before falling back asleep.
Eli & Robyn
Eli comes home to find Robyn waiting up for him, in her cutest, laciest lingerie. There's even a candle and Eli just smiles because he would have been happy to see her anyway, but that she put so much effort into making this nice makes it even more special.
Devin & Charlie
Charlie is asleep and Dev just comes and puts a blanket over her. He sits down a few feet away, takes his hat off, then looks over at her and smiles, because even if she doesn't remember everything, she's starting to and that hope is enough for now.
Cian & Josie
Jo is laying with her head on Cian's chest and they're not holding hands but they're playing with each others fingers all cute, both awake, just laying together in bed in silence.
Thomas & Tessa
Tessa and Thomas are curled up in bed together, Tessa taking her place as the little spoon. They are completely wrapped around each other and Thomas's hand if resting against her stomach, like he's protecting his little family.
Kazimir & Layla
You just see a woman's bare feet sneaking down a hall and a dark haired woman knocks quietly on a door. Kazimir answers, clearly having just woken up, but then he smiles and let's Layla slip in. Then a close up of her curling up against him so she doesn't have bad dreams, and he just wraps his tattooed arms around her and holds her.
Jen & Luke
Jen and Luke sit beside each other outside, keeping watch. They are both tired, so they sit quietly and trade stories, smiling and keeping each other company if only for a little while since they need to sleep in shifts. Still, they maintain a professional distance.
Layla was running, and she could barely see where she was going. This is what she got for not bringing an umbrella. She really should start checking the weather. Her sweater is damp, her hair is soaked and there's mud on her ankles as she makes her way to the train station. She's running late, a side effect of stalling so she wouldn't have to venture out into the downpour.
She's sidestepping puddles (which is dangerous task in her high heels), so distracted that she doesn't notice the man until she barrels into him. A small, shocked noise leaves her mouth and she might have lost her balance if he hadn't reached out to grip her elbows, holding her steady. His own face and hair is damp and he doesn't quite look surprised, but she thinks that's because he's not overly expressive. There's something in his eyes that makes he clear he didn't expect to see her like this.
"I'm sorry." she apologizes with a smile before heading up the covered stairs, thankful to be out of the rain. The man walks just behind her.
"It is fine." he assures her politely. Layla tosses him a bright smile over her shoulder.
"So, you don't believe in umbrellas either?" she asks, walking toward the tracks with her arms crossed tight over her chest. The wet clothes were only making her colder. The man's mouth in pressed into a line, like he might smile but he doesn't. Still, there's something about that look that is so close to a smirk that Layla can't help but think it's just as rewarding to see.
"It is just water." he says with a small shrug of his shoulders. Layla wrinkles her nose and motions to herself, and though he was staring straight ahead he must have caught the action in his periphery because his head turns slightly to look at her.
"Except now, I look like a drowned rat." she says with a small laugh before wiping beneath her eyes and hoping her makeup isn't all down her face.
"Not so." the man says, and it sounds like the words are said with a smile, but when she looks up his gaze is back to staring straight ahead, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that he doesn't need. A small spot of warm builds in her cheeks and she turns her own face away to hide the small smile. Since when does she blush? A woman in her profession blushing over something so small as being told she didn't quite resemble a rat was hardly something to lose her cool over. She brushes some of her wet hair from her face and take a few steps to close the gap between them before offering him her hand.
"I'm Layla." she says. "Figured you might as well know my name since I damn near knocked you over." she says with a small laugh. The man takes her hand easily and if her heart beats just a bit faster or her cheeks feel just a bit warmer when she feels his strong fingers and rough palms brush against her skin, she chooses to ignore it.
"Kazimir Nikolayevich." he says. Layla doesn't immediately drop his hand and it doesn't seem like he minds. If he does, he hides it as well as he does his smiles.
"Ni...ko..." she begins to try and repeat the name, but it wasn't quite as natural for her. There it was, just a brief upward tilt at the corners of his mouth but she was close enough that she saw it.
"Perhaps just 'Kazimir' would be easiest." he suggests and her smile widens. The roar of the train approaching is her cue to let go of his hand, but she doesn't want to turn away from him. Still, the train is rolling to a stop and she can't stay.
"Well, it was nice bumping into you, Kazimir." she said, backing away to hop on board the train. He just inclined his head.
"Anytime, Miss Layla." he said. She beamed, and when she took her seat on the train, gave him one last little wave from the window, before he disappeared from view.
If Thomas were to be completely honest, he would have said to anyone who had asked him that night that he did not expect the blue-eyed woman to walk over and buy him a drink. Of course, he would have also said that he was pleasantly surprised when she did.
Tessa, she had said her name was. Up close she was not as tiny as he had thought she was. Standing at six feet tall, it was easy to classify others as small on a first impression. However, as soon as Tessa started talking, it seemed like she could take up an entire room with only her personality. Thomas didn’t smile much as she spoke, an expression he had almost forgotten a long time ago, but the small moments he did, they were shockingly genuine. If anything, the woman entertained him.
A good time was the last thing he expected on his first night back to his home country, and perhaps he would have made more of an effort to extract an invitation to join her at her home for a nightcap, but the exhaustion of being on a plane for 11 hours to a high risk escape from prison was weighing on him. With a polite farewell and nothing else, Thomas left the pub with a light feeling in his head. Probably due to the alcohol.
Climbing into his car, Thomas refused to listen to his subconscious as it tells him it probably isn’t a good idea to drive in his condition. The drinks weren’t enough to make him drunk, but the sleep deprivation was worrying. He ignored it, telling himself that the drive back to New York would go by quickly if he just turned on the radio. The Beatles crooned him from the speakers; the peaceful melody of ‘Here Comes The Sun’ making him drift to sleep slowly but surely.
He wasn’t quite sure what woke him up, but he saw the deer before he hit it. The buck was bigger than he would have expected, and it stained the windshield with its blood before Thomas could hit the breaks. His head hit the airbag, but the shards of glass cut his face. Fuck. He thought as he breathed heavily. The adrenaline racing through his system made him act twice as quickly as he would have otherwise. Silently calculating his trajectory, he realizes he can’t be that far from the town the corner pub was located.
Sighing, Thomas extracted a few hundred dollar bills from the briefcase the owner had placed in the trunk before he began walking back into town. He regretted refusing a cellphone when it was offered.
Thomas had worked up a light sheen of sweat when he was lucky enough to come across a garage. He squinted in the darkness, trying to read the sign, but all he could make out was ‘Campbell’. Sighing and silently praying that someone was still there, Thomas knocked on the door and called out.
A hotel was too mild a word for the place Thomas was to be driven to as soon as he had spoken to the man in charge. He had, of course, stayed in luxury establishments before. With his kind of income, each job amounting to no less than $5000, he was used to king sized beds and meals that cost more than a family of four’s monthly rent. The Ty Warner Penthouse at the Four Seasons was apparently the most expensive hotel suite in New York City, clad with a 360 view of Manhatten and a Grand Piano he had no idea how to play. Overall, a childish way to capture his attention and, hopefully, his loyalty.
It was an unnecessary luxury he would only enjoy after he spoke to the woman’s employer. The unofficial chief of ‘The Corporation’, as they liked to call it. It was an overly pretentious name for what they were. Another drug cartel. Like cocaine was something only the upper class enjoyed.
They changed cars halfway to a rural Pennsylvania town Thomas couldn’t even remember the name of. An ordinary blue sedan dropped him and his feminine companion at the very front of the establishment. Out of all the places they could meet, the owner had decided on some shitty corner pub filled with drunks and women he internally cringed at. Or, he would have if he had noticed any of them. The aged man on the far side stared a hole into Thomas as soon as he entered the building. Negotiations started as soon as he sat down.
It was all very civil. They would exchange a piece of paper with numbers written on it hastily, add or subtract digits according to what they thought was appropriate. But in the end, what they wanted was something only an assassin with experience could carry out, and at the moment, only one was at their disposal. The amount of money they settled on might have been exorbitant to some, but to Thomas it was a rather generic deal.
The owner and his employee left, leaving him the keys to the sedan for him to drive himself back to New York. Thomas grumbled as he made his way to the bar, eager to get a drink before making the trip back to the city. His eyes wandered over to the people sitting at the bar. The pair of bright blue eyes were perhaps the most colorful thing in the room, and oddly, they kept him entertained for a moment before the old man behind the counter asked what he was going to drink. Thomas let his gaze shift lazily to the bartender before ordering their strongest whiskey. Maybe the trip to the small pub wasn’t so useless after all.
Thomas was an important person. Perhaps not the kind that showed up in the news nor the ones people gushed about when they saw them on television. No. He was one of those people the drug cartels and mafias would pay very large amounts of money to get him out of trouble. A dangerous man, but an essential one in the underground.
It had surprised Thomas when five officers had shown up to his hotel room in Argentina with badges that clearly weren’t native to the south american country, with accents he hadn’t heard in a long time, and guns pointed at his chest and head. Of course, he hadn’t managed to escape their custody then. He would have to go to trial, or find some way out before they got him into a federal prison. He was to be put into a high-security prison on April 28th, and appear before a court the following week. At least, that was what the law enforcement had planned. But Thomas was an important person, and the rich were hardly going to let that happen.
It was on the morning of April 28th that his escape was provided. Barely having arrived at the gates of the New York Penitentiary, a loud noise came from the right of the van he had just exited. Several shards of glass and metal were embedded into the flesh of the guards, some finding their way into unprotected zones, others stopped by their bulletproof vests. Still, the distraction was enough for the man to kick away the police officer that was holding onto his arm and smash his nose in with his forehead.
The alarms inside began blaring with deafening power, but it was too late. A group of people with black clothing and a distinctive neon green strap around their right bicep was already surrounding him. Thomas jogged with them until they reached a caravan of several black jeeps. He was shoved into the back of the first one and was promptly released of his handcuffs. How they had managed to gather the keys so quickly, he couldn’t understand.
"Hello, Mr. Archer." A woman in front of him said cooly, taking off the scarf that was wrapped around her features. "Welcome back to the States." She smiled eerily, but the small smirk that was offered back to her held traces of things much more sinister. A promise to repay this small favor. "We have a job for you."
When Kazimir arrived at the platform a few days later, she was there again. Barefoot as usual, but this time with a sweater over her shoulders to combat the oncoming autumn. He wondered how long she would be able to stay barefoot, though he wasn't sure if in this neighborhood it was ever the wise choice. When she sees him, she smiles and it appears to be such a genuine thing. It is not something he is used to, nor something he understands.
"Good morning." she says brightly. Kazimir only inclines his head as he walks to his usual place a few feet away from her, maintaining a polite distance.
"Dobroye utro." he says. The woman smirks and looks away, seeming to accept that for a moment before looking back again, this time with a slightly sheepish expression on her face.
"Is that Russian for 'good morning'?" she asks, as if she were nervous about offending him should her guess be wrong. Kazimir's mouth twitches as he fights down a smile and keeps his face neutral.
"Da. It is." he confirms. Already he can hear the train in the distance and he thinks it's early today.
"Da." the woman repeats, the word rolling carefully off her tongue as though she were testing it out. She seems distracted for a moment and then hurries to put her shoes on before the train rolls to a complete stop. As she moves to climb aboard she tosses him another brilliant smile. "I'll see you." she says, and he finds it odd that she should look forward to such a small thing, though perhaps less odd than the fact that he's disappointed that she is leaving so quickly today. Without much thought, he raises a hand in a goodbye and her smile brightens further. It makes him wonder if she was like him, and sometimes the days when they saw each other somehow turned out a little bit better than the ones where they didn't. But that a ridiculous and childish thought, full of things that have no place in his world or his life, so he lets them go. It would not do well to put so much thought into something so small.
Layla hated traveling for work, and she didn't like overnight gigs, but the guy paid double and she certainly like the money. Some women fell into her line of work because they were victims, others because they liked the rush. Layla just liked the simplicity of it. She had a beautiful apartment with a beautiful view, a beautiful closet. Friends weren't something she had in abundance, but some of her clients were so familiar that it was similar feeling. Though it was more like one-sided friendships. She listened, she comforted, gave herself over to them, and they paid her. It was nothing she felt guilty about, even when she found herself sneaking out in the early morning to head towards the train station. This was becoming a regular thing, and she wondered how long the man's money would last. No chance in hell it was legal, but that didn't matter. What she did wasn't legal either.
It was getting a bit chillier. She should start remembering to bring a jacket, or maybe a change of clothes. These shoes would be the death of her. As she stood waiting for her train, she braced her hand against the pillar to keep her balance and pulled off the tall, black heels. She'll have to put them on again but that's fine, she's just grateful for the break. Raking her free hand through her slightly tousled, dark hair she can hear footsteps coming up the steps she herself had just used. Glancing over her shoulder she sees the man in the suit and sunglasses again. He's been here every day she has and she wonders what he does. It's a nice suit, and he looks nice in it, but there's an air of intimidation surrounding him that makes her think he's not a banker or a lawyer. She doesn't dwell on it, instead she just gives him a small smile of recognition. His only reply is a slight curve to his own lips and a nod in her direction.
Maybe it's because she was trying to keep her mind off of the autumn breeze against her arms, or maybe because she couldn't help the bit of curiosity she felt about the handsome, older man she'd been sharing a train platform with for the past few weeks. Either way, she leans forward and looks over at him, waiting for a moment until she looks away again, deciding to speak.
“It's getting chilly.” she says. A remark on the weather was probably stupid. The man didn't seem to react for a moment and she wondered if she's spoken too softly. Probably. That or he just wanted to ignore her, which was fine.
“Da.” he says after a moment. “You should get jacket.” he tells her, and though there's not much inflection to his words, they make her smile all the same, because there was an odd kind of lightness to them. His voice was deep, gravelly with a thick Russian accent. At least she was pretty sure it was Russian, though it could have been one of those smaller, Eastern European countries too.
“I thought about it.” she says with a smile, glancing his way and shrugging her shoulders a bit. “Didn't go with the dress.” she tells him. The edges of his mouth tip upward a bit before the roar of the train approaching sounds in the distance. Layla slips her heels back on as the thing rolls to a stop in front of her. This time as she steps onboard, she gives the man a small wave goodbye to which he only gives another nod. For some reason, the whole ride back to her own neck of the woods, Layla can't help but replay the conversation, not because there was anything special about it. She had just liked the sound of his voice.
It was still dark out, which was for the best. Kazimir felt more comfortable in those early morning hours before the sun was up. In his small, one bedroom apartment in one of the less favorable parts of New York City, he would get ready for his day. Leaning over his rust stained sink, he splashed cool water onto his face and then looked up, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His skin was covered in tattoos, memories of his life in Russia. It was a life he thought he had left behind, but it seemed his reputation had followed him across an ocean. Life here was not so different anymore.
The tattoos were covered in a crisp, white shirt and followed by a suit jacket. Well, most of the tattoos were covered. The ones on his hands and creeping up his neck were still visible if people looked, but very few people looked him way and the few who did rarely met his eyes which were hidden behind sunglasses even in the dark hours before dawn. The man was meticulous, and it was a skill that made him employers all the more pleased with the work he did. His footsteps were the only noise really, except for the rogue car or random shout as he walked to the train station. It was the same as every morning, a routine he wouldn't call comfortable, but it was familiar. It was the life he knew. However this morning, there was a piece that didn't quite fit.
She didn't look like she belonged there on the train platform. Her red heels hung from her hand and she stood barefoot, which was daring considering the trash and debris littering the ground around them. She must have never made it home, still wearing a blood red dress that made her skin look like fresh cream. She was standing where he normally stood, right by the pillar, but that didn't phase him. He just chose to stand a few yards down from the pretty brunette. He felt her turn and look at him, but he didn't respond to that, though her eyes lingered for longer than he was used to. There was a roar from further down the tracks but Kazimir didn't move. He continued to stand with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. This wasn't his train. His would come next. The woman leaned forward, however and then hurriedly put her shoes back on. Kazimir watched from the corner of his eye, not because he was interested in what she did, but because it was second nature to him to keep an eye on the people around him. She was gone a moment later, and not too long after that his own train came. Another normal day.
