A/N: So, I've finally gotten around to making a No Sound, Please remake…It's been a while, so forgive me for any inconsistencies while I switch gears and put myself back into this particular universe again. As I have said before, in order to not be completely lost, you must read Denver's Finest before reading this. Denver's Finest is not an optional prequel anymore. It is the main story, and No Sound, Please is its sequel.
That said, I will rewind a bit (back to Fall, precisely) because there are some loose ends I want to tie up with Ian and Riley before skipping ahead to Jason and Ellie in Spring. This chapter essentially starts off exactly where it ended in the final chapter of Denver's Finest. Just so there's no confusion, the names Ian and Dom are used interchangeably by various characters and myself, but they refer to the same person: Ian Rowland. Enjoy!
Six months earlier (Fall)
Riley groggily wiped the sleep from her eyes as the sunlight Dom loved to complain about stung her retinas. I should really get curtains for that damn window…maybe I'll do that today, just to make it easier on Dom, she thought, stifling a yawn. She checked said boy's injuries by carefully peeling back the blanket, frowning at the considerable amount of inflammation around the stitches. She made a mental note to get some antibiotics or penicillin for him as she dressed, pulling on a gray tank top, converse shoes, and jeans. Dom's bloody shirt and Cobra jacket were still crumpled in the corner, and she hung the latter up to clean it later. She knew how much he loved and depended on the thing.
Riley stopped for a moment to sit at the foot of the bed, the ring on her finger glinting in one of the beams of dusty sunlight streaming through the window. She examined how the tiny diamond set in the center of the silver band gleamed and sparkled, allowing a smile to work its way onto her face as she glanced between it and her sleeping boyfriend. She picked her head up as her father emerged from his bedroom across the hall, halting in her doorway when he noticed Dom.
"What's he doing back so early? I thought the scavenging trip wasn't supposed to be back for another couple of days?" Dale yawned, furrowing his bushy, black eyebrows.
"Things went south, I guess," Riley shrugged, "he's the only one who made it back alive. He was half dead when he collapsed into my bed last night." She covertly curled the fingers of her left hand under her thigh so her father wouldn't see the ring. A sense of anxiety invaded her mind as she thought of his possible reactions if he saw it. None of them were positive.
Dale nodded to himself, "I'll see if we have anything for the inflammation. I want to know more about who did it when he wakes up." With that he ambled down the stairs, maneuvering across the entrance hall and the various pieces of broken furniture that cluttered the place. Riley followed suit, briefly wondering why they haven't cleared the place up and used the excess, splintered furniture as firewood yet. They'd been living there for half a year already.
Riley strode past her father and the living room, embarking on her daily morning routine of feeding the guard dogs, most of which were German Shepherds, and collecting eggs from the neighbour's chicken coop. The area around the chicken coop was fenced to keep the dogs out, but it didn't stop them from trying to dig under it every now and again. The morning air was crisp and chilly, and the leaves of whatever trees that weren't evergreens towering above the wall were already changing colour. When she returned with two eggs, she placed them on the black granite countertop for her father to clean.
"What's the plan for today?" Riley queried, strolling over to the first floor bathroom to comb her hair while her father prepared breakfast.
Dale rubbed a hand down his half-awake face, scratching his scruffy, black beard. "While I wait for Ian to wake up, I want a patrol squad sent out there. I want to make sure none of those bastards that slaughtered our men followed us here," he said gruffly, and Riley nodded as she took a seat at the countertop. The bar stool underneath her creaked as she settled herself, fidgeting out of boredom while her father fried the eggs.
She realized her mistake too late. Dale turned around before she could hide her left hand, opening his mouth to say something else. He clamped it shut with an audible clack of his teeth, his expression darkening. "Riley, where did you get that ring?" he asked, holding on to the hope that she just found it somewhere, and she didn't know what it meant.
"Ian gave it to me last night," the blonde girl answered innocently, "It's a promise ring."
"I can't believe this…" Dale growled, turning off the stove and setting the pan aside. The eggs were only half-fried.
Riley cocked her head as her father retraced his steps up the marble staircase. "What do you mean?" she asked after him. Dale stopped with his foot on the upstairs landing, turning to his daughter a few steps below him.
"That boy's got some explaining to do," Dale said, and Riley got the feeling that explaining wouldn't be the only thing that was going to go on between them. "No boy is promising himself to a daughter of mine without my permission," Dale muttered under his breath, making the floorboards squeak as he and Riley entered her room. Riley was glad her father had the sense to not outright strangle Ian in his state, at least not yet.
Riley tugged on her father's arm, getting his attention. "Can't this wait until Dom recovers a bit? He can't explain himself like this!" she whispered harshly, and Dale shook his head. He wasn't going to let his daughter walk out of the house with that ring on again if he could help it.
Dale shook Ian awake, albeit with difficulty. He seemed to have retreated into unconsciousness so deeply that Dale briefly wondered if the boy had gone into a coma. After a few tries, though, Ian groaned and cracked an eye open. He looked less than pleased to be awake. Being awake was painful.
"You mind explaining this to me?" the man demanded, showing him the ring on Riley's hand.
Dom took a minute to formulate his scrambled thoughts into a coherent one. "I want…to marry Riley someday. I thought…that ring would let people know…I'm keeping that promise," he said weakly, his voice raspy because of his laboured breathing. Riley merely stared at him in shock while her father restrained himself from clamping his hand around the boy's scarred neck. It was one thing to dream of the possibility, but quite another to say it out loud.
"You ain't promising shit until you come to me first. I am Riley's father, and I decide what's best for her," Dale growled dangerously, "If I see you pull something like this again, it's the whipping post for you, injuries or no injuries." He glared at Ian with a steely glint in his eyes, long and unrelenting, until the brown-haired boy eventually nodded silently, his own eyes defiant despite the pain he was in.
"Dad, that's not fair! You can't punish him for wanting to marry someone!" Riley protested.
Dale sighed, fully expecting the backlash from his daughter. "No, I can't. But I can punish him for willfully disobeying orders. He's far from ideal for you, and you're too young to be making these kinds of decisions, Riley. I will not let you throw your life away when you're barely even seventeen! You're not even an adult, for Christ's sake!" Dale's voice steadily rose, and by the end he was shouting at her. Riley refused to cower, though the urge almost overwhelmed her.
Riley balled her fists at her side, feeding off her father's anger. "Dad, we love each other. Dom's risked his life protecting me countless times, and you know I've done the same for him. How can you say he's not good enough for me?" she was on the brink of yelling at him now, "We've stood by each other long before we even left Denver, but you're such a shitty father, you don't even know what's happened to me since you kicked me out at fourteen!" Riley's voice broke as tears stung behind her eyes. She stormed furiously out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time, and then slamming the front door behind her.
"Riley!" Dale sharply called after the girl, but she was already long gone. But now that she was out of the house, he could send a more forceful message to Ian. He put a vice grip on the boy's neck, letting him cough and choke for a few seconds before uttering threateningly, "Don't put any more stupid ideas into her head, you hear me, boy?"
Dom weakly nodded, gasping for breath and moaning feebly in pain as Dale released him, following in his daughter's wake.
Jason led Pixie, his black overo filly, past Ellie as he gave her another dirty look. Serves her right for scaring Pixie…he thought, trying to keep the horse from nervously bobbing her head as he led her into the barn. Didn't this girl know not to sneak up behind horses?
Ellie still didn't seem to get the message that he didn't want her around, because she leaned against a stall door and watched as he untacked his horse. "Maria was right, you don't talk much…" the redhead commented, like she expected everyone to just strike up a conversation as soon as she met them.
Jason spotted his father, Shane, shaking his head at him as he continued to fork hay down from the loft. Jason narrowed his brown eyes at him, the exchange going unnoticed by Ellie as she turned around to scratch Beauty's muzzle behind her. The Clydesdale mare nibbled at the girl's finger, making her laugh a little.
Jason was perfectly capable of talking since his throat had healed, but he preferred silence and signing. It was easier to converse with his deaf mother, Julia, that way, and to ward off nosy girls coming to the barn. However, it didn't seem to be working with Ellie since she hadn't left yet.
"So, how long have you lived here?" Ellie queried from behind him.
Jason sighed through his nose, running one hand through his unruly brunet hair. He removed Pixie's saddle, completely ignoring Ellie's question as he placed the saddle on its designated post that jutted out from the wall in the tack room. He placed the faded turquoise saddle pad over it so it could dry. He half-expected Ellie to follow him, and she did, blocking the doorway of the tack room.
"Okay, what the hell is up with you and not talking? Do you give people the silent treatment all the time?" Ellie asked in an irritated voice, still blocking the doorway. Jason found it amusing that she barely reached his shoulder. He could easily push her out of the way, but he was having too much fun annoying her. He dusted off his jeans, picking a stray piece of straw out of his faded pine-green tank top. Oddly enough, it was the same colour as Ellie's eyes.
Jason merely nodded, crossing his lanky arms and eyeing her condescendingly. She pressed her lips together, and he noticed her eyes flick to his tattoo on his left upper arm and back to his eyes again. He could see the question in her eyes before she even opened her mouth to ask it.
"It's none of your concern," Jason snapped, his voice raspy from disuse. He decided annoying her wasn't amusing anymore and roughly pushed past her. She was surprised by his sudden resort to physical force, which just meant that she didn't offer much resistance as he strode back out into the aisle. Jason pulled a small piece of carrot out from his jeans pocket, completely ignoring Ellie again.
"So you can talk! I knew it!" Ellie exclaimed triumphantly, dusting the sleeves of her plaid hoodie off. Jason merely rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm, patting Pixie's neck as she happily munched on the carrot. He clipped a lead rope to her halter, turning her around and leading her out to one of the paddocks. Once he closed the gate behind her, he gave Ellie another bored look, who was watching him from the barn doorway.
Again, she wasn't perturbed by his standoffish behaviour. Seeing as she wasn't going to leave, he decided he might as well put her to work. He shoved a broom into her hands, striding off to get one of his own. Putting two and two together, Ellie began sweeping the dirt and straw to the sides of the aisle, copying Jason.
Just when he was getting used to the silence, Ellie had to go and ruin it by talking again. "You're from Denver, then? You've lived in the Quarantine Zone there?" she asked, her voice a bit more serious, gentler. At least she understood it was a sensitive subject.
Jason silently nodded, his expression darkening.
"I grew up in the Boston QZ…Must've been tough, huh?" Ellie laughed mirthlessly a little, but it quickly faded. If that's not the understatement of the year, I don't know what is…way to go, Ellie, she mentally sighed.
You have no idea…Jason snorted derisively in his head. Instead, he gave her a harsh look that indicated he wanted to change the subject. Immediately.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, Ellie decided to ignore Jason's icy look in favor of asking, "What's a Cobra? I mean, I know it's obviously a type of snake, but was it some kind of military group, or something?"
Jason clamped his jaw shut, his grip tightening on the handle of his broom so much that his knuckles went white. Ellie finally got the message that she was about to break the thin ice she was already walking on, and fell quiet. "Too much?" she ventured after a moment of tense silence.
Jason nodded, relaxing his grip on his broom. Ellie didn't talk for the rest of the time they swept the barn together, though he did hear her whistle a bit, probably just to ease the palpable tension in the air. Jason once again became absorbed into his own thoughts, the motions of the broom and the sound of straw scraping against concrete almost becoming meditative. He faintly registered the flapping and whistle of a chickadee on the lamp post jutting out above the barn door, and Ellie fruitlessly trying to copy its birdsong.
When Ellie actually managed to copy the tiny bird's two-tone whistle, Jason jerked his head up, the reaction almost automatic as he whistled the same tone, but a third lower. He shut his mouth as Ellie cocked her head at him, giving him a perplexed look. "Did you just copy me?" she questioned him, her tone a mix of surprise and sarcasm.
Jason cast is eyes down, inwardly cursing himself. "Stop fooling around, get back to work," he ordered, and he hated how unconvincing he sounded. Is one fucking whistle all it takes to trip me up these days? Jesus…he scolded himself, and then he noticed Ellie hadn't taken his eyes off him.
"Whatever…" Ellie shrugged, sweeping the last of the dirt to the side of the aisle. She leaned the broom against the wall, taking the opportunity to study Jason when he had his back turned. He looked a little thin, and his general lankiness didn't help. Though, he had the muscle tone of someone who regularly worked with heavy gear, or maybe just did a lot of physical labour.
Jason didn't notice when Ellie left, since he had disappeared into the tack room to organize the bridles and saddles everyone always seemed to leave a mess of. He was glad that nobody was bombarding him with questions anymore, but at the same time he fought off the curiosity that was starting to seep in at the back of his mind.
The mere mention of the order he used to belong to made unwanted memories resurface from the place they were supposed to be repressed forever. Images of soldiers burning alive with arrows lodged into their flesh flashed across his mind, along with men in black jackets, the silver blades of their swords dripping with fresh blood…The horrible screams of both men and horses…
Jason gripped the cantle of the saddle he was cleaning so hard that his nails left semicircle marks in the leather. He shook his head vigorously, and the terrible memories gradually receded back into the dark depths of his mind. Jason took a few moments to control his rapid breathing, and the heavy footfalls he recognized as his father's helped jerk him back to the present. Jason whipped his head around, catching the sympathetic look on his father's face. The bald patch poking through his silver hair gleamed in the sunlight. Jason hated that look, and he didn't want his father's pity.
"You alright, son?" Shane cautiously asked, though he was used to Jason's "episodes" by now. They were less frequent now, but there were times when Shane caught him staring off into space, his brown eyes full of suffering and pain.
Jason curtly nodded, going back to cleaning the saddle. He felt his father's gaze on him for another minute, and then the man's footsteps retreated. The silence Jason loved so much settled on the barn again, broken only by the swishing of horse tails or the occasional snort.