He stayed with her for a long while, his back pressed against the wall, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder.
Her legs came to rest on either side of his own, her legs spread and straddling him. Thankfully, his shirt was long enough that it covered her easily. Nothing was exposed, and he was glad for that.
A protective hand splayed across her back, pressing close to her spine. Noiselessly, he stared into nothingness, his mind spinning in circles.
He hadn't planned on this...any of it. Meeting her, helping her. Not being alone. Her presence alone was enough to put his position in danger…
He couldn't stay here with her much longer. He had to go, for the safety of both of them. Testing her ankle had been his own way of not only testing her tendons, muscles and bones...but his ability to take her with him when he left.
It wouldn't be possible, she would have to stay behind.
He would push forward, and maybe...if he played his cards right...he could get to Seth before Seth's men found him, or her.
Moving stiffly, his arms wrapping around her to pull her down from his position, he turned, and careful not to wake her, her slid her off of him. He sat beside her for a long moment, watching as she slept.
He pulled the sleeping bag up to her shoulder, pressing it around her, to be sure she kept warm. Autumn was falling, he could see it in the slowly changing lemony yellow hues of the leaves outside the cave.
Late August, early september, maybe. He had lost track of the days, out here on his own.
Looking up, he caught the eyes of his canine companion, and with a jerk of his head, called the dog over.
Tail wagging, the pit bull did as it was told, coming to sit beside him.
John pointed to a place next to Eden, and without words, the beast understood. Moving to curl up next to her, the blue bundle of fur pressed against her, coming to rest against her abdomen, its head resting on her forearm, tail wagging playfully against her thigh.
"Stay" John muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Good dog"
Briefly, he patted its head, ruffling its leathery ears before he got to his feet. He made his way towards the pile of papers in the corner, towards his rifle. Close to it, an axe sat propped against the stone, its polished mahogany handle standing out in deep contrast to the slate grey stone surrounding him.
Reaching out, he took up the axe, something nearby catching his eye. The papers. Various maps, latitudes and longitudes, medical papers, instructions, places and dates...and the photo's laying on top.
Helen, her bright eyes shining.
He missed her..so fucking much. More than he could explain to anyone, even himself. He had everything, once upon a time...everything he had ever wanted.
His mind strayed to a day, many months ago, one of their last conversations, when she lay in a hospital bed, her eyes fluttering and week, machines beeping all around him.
"John" Her voice was weak, as weak as her eyes, but he hung on to both, as if it was for his own dear life.
"Yeah?" He could hear the emotions in his own voice. It had been weeks now, this room...this bed...and he still hadn't managed to get used to it. Seeing her like this, weak and in pain, hit his heart like a thousand stabs.
"What will you do…?" Her eyes searched for his, drilling deep until he feared she would reach his soul. Her voice was dry, like a desert wind in her throat. "When i'm gone?"
Her question was like a punch to the gut, and he felt his world shake around him. Up until now, today, anyway...it had always been "if" rather than when.
"You're gonna be okay" He whispered, a hand coming up to thread through her hair, pushing it back and away from her face. "Don't talk like that…"
He turned to glance in Eden's direction a final time, watching the dog to be sure it did as he had instructed. When it gave no signs of moving, its eyes sliding closed, what looked like a content smile on its face, John pushed himself forward.
He moved towards the cave entrance, the axe handle laid across his shoulders, the silver blade glinting in the sunlight. He blinked, squinting against the harsh light of a mid afternoon sun, searching the trees and thick underbrush for any sign of life. When he saw none, he took a final glance towards the figure sleeping in his bed, and pushed himself to move.
"John" The hand gripping his squeezed him, but briefly. "I mean it."
"No" he shook his head, the movement causing his tears to spill like a flood from his eyes. "I don't want to hear you talk like that."
"John." Helen's voice was stronger now, though barely, and held a stern note that he hadn't heard in a long time, "I mean it."
"No.." His voice cracked, broken and wobbling. He could barely bring himself to look at her.
"I need you to hear me, John." She urged, her hand shaking his, begging him to look into her eyes. Finally, he did, and it nearly broke him completely.
"John...I'm not coming home this time.."
He worked carefully, quickly. His brain had one, simple goal in mind.
The days were getting shorter, and the wind held a chilling bite, a warning. It would be cold soon.
He swung the axe, hard, from high over his head. It came down with a thunk, splitting the log cleanly in two. Memories flooded his mind like a tsunami, dragging him under. He felt he couldn't push them away, no matter how hard he tried.
Helens words rung like a bell inside his head. He couldn't escape them, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how hard he had tried for the last few months since her death.
Now, much like that day in the hospital, he couldn't run, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't escape her words.
He would hear them, and hear them clearly.
"What will you do when I'm gone, John?"
He said nothing, looked away, his eyes catching the ECG monitor behind her bed. As if staring at it long enough would rewind time.
"Who will you have?" She asked, shaking him again. Despite his inner warnings, he turned to look at her again, her hair fanned out, dark against the sterile whiteness of the sheets. Her eyes sunken, cheeks hollow. This wasn't Helen...not his Helen. This was her illness, like a monster, come to take her.
This was a monster even the boogeyman couldn't kill.
"I'll still have you.." He mumbled, hoping it was enough.
"...who will you love."
It was like a knife to the chest, and he knew if he didn't pull it out, he would bleed….but leaving it in hurt so much less. "I'll still love you…" His tears flowed freely now, unable to contain them.
"I don't want you to be alone, John"
He shook his head, "I won't be."
"The car doesn't count, John…"
He raised the axe, swung it again, but this time he missed. The axe blade skidded along the side of the log and dropped to the ground, throwing up clods of dirt and dust into his face.
His hands, shaking violently, dropped the handle, and it fell, coming to rest against his boot.
His chest heaved, breath coming in sharp hisses and whooshing exhails. It wouldn't stop, the words, like an announcement, playing over and over, constant, inside of his brain.
"The car doesn't count, John"
"Does she…?"
The thought was like a bomb, going off in his consciousness.
Then something else, quite at first, and rising, until it was a roar in his head. It started out as a whisper, and then rose in a feverish pitch until it rang in his ears, and pierced his brain, until his hands came up to press into his temples, his lips folded in a snarl.
Finally, he dropped to his knees, the sound of bones cracking against tree roots sounding out around him.
A hand came up to swipe the dirt from his face, and he noticed the wetness of his cheeks. Looking down, he glanced down the hill, and noticed the sun catching on something in the dirt.
John moved carefully, his arms filled with firewood, the axe handle slid into a belt loop, knocking against his thigh with every step.
He moved into the cave, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. From his right, he heard a low grumble, like rocks rolling down a hill.
Looking over the load in his arms, he saw Eden had woken up, her eyes wide, lips curled in a smile.
It had been longer than he could remember since someone had been happy to see him. He usually meant one thing, and one thing only….he was an ending. Never a beginning.
Even for Helen. He had loved her, and she him...but it had ended the same old way. He was the means to an ending. She had known about her illness far before he had become a fixture in her life, and it had always been there, like a dark cloud on the horizon. He had known of its coming, and known there was no stopping it.
Sitting up beside her, the dog had sat up, ears pinned back against his skull, lip lifted in a warning.
A growl, and it was aimed at him.
"Hey…" He scolded, narrowing his eyes. "Its me…"
Upon hearing his voice, the beast backed off, jumping up, tail wagging instead. John chuckled as he moved to the back of the cave.
At least he had taken his job of protecting Eden seriously.
John stacked the firewood in the corner, and when he returned to the larged room of the cave, Eden was in her previous spot, propped against the wall, sleeping bag across her lap, dog resting against her thigh, looking up at her lovingly, his tail skipping across the slick fabric of the bed.
"He likes you." John commented, and eden turned to face him, nodding.
"Yeah. I've noticed. I like him too. I've always liked dogs."
"You have a dog, back home?" He asked, making small talk. He made his way over to her, watching as she scratched her living heat pack behind the ears.
"I do. I miss her." She looked sad. "Her name is Sheba. She's a husky."
He smiled. She seemed much happier than before. "You'll see her again."
She nodded, but was quiet. The silence stretched out between them, and John studied her carefully.
The sorrow in her voice brought any happy thoughts in his mind to a screeching halt. He paused, letting it sink in. "Did you mean what you said?"
He studied her features, the cold, sorrowful look in her eyes, the frown. "What I said?"
She nodded, and glanced over to him, "About Seth? You said you'd find him…?"
He sat down beside her, watching her eyes as she spoke. They were full of a glimmer of something...something like hope. "I did, and I will."
"What if he finds me first…"
"He'd better hope I'm not here."
A flash of worry crossed her face, "and if you're not here?"
He got to his feet without another word, turning to move through the cave, searching. Mixed in with the wood he had brought back, there lay an oblong object. He found what he was looking for and grabbed it, feeling the weight in his hands.
He emerged from the darkness, and turned it open in his hands, it popped out of the sheath easily, its handle wrapped in black and white threads.
"What's this?" He asked, brows furrowed, looking at her expectantly.
"Oh!" Her voice was high pitched, excited. "That's mine!"
"I found it outside." He handed it to her, chuckling at her reaction. Like a little girl who had found a long lost friend.
"You know how to use that?" He watched as she pulled it out of the sheath, the blade catching in the sunlight and glimmering between her fingers. The blade was long and straight, carved with intricate dragons and various symbols that he didn't recognise.
"Maybe. I grabbed it when I left...just in case."
"So no, you don't." He countered, coming to rest next to her once more.
"Hey!" She looked offended. "I'm not incompetent. I took 'fencing' in high school!"
It was all he could do to contain his laughter. "And how old are you now?
"25…"
He would have been lying had he said he was surprised. She didn't look 25. "That…" He pointed to the sword in her hands. "Is a katana. Fencing is done with rapiers. That isn't even remotely the same thing."
She was quiet for a long moment, slid the blade back into the sheath with some work. She felt small and foolish. "I just wanted something...in case they found me before I was gone."
"I can teach you." He grabbed the weapon from her, carefully, placing it behind him, beside the leather bag at his back. "When you're healed."
She smiled in acceptance, nodded. Reaching into his belt, John pulled out his magnum, and holding it by the barrel, slapped it into her hand. "Until then…"
To say she looked surprised would have been an understatement. Looking down at the gun in her fingers, she gasped, ripping her hand away as if he had presented her with a tarantula rather than a weapon.
"No way!"She looked scared, her eyes wide and searching. John suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Had he stirred a bad memory somewhere.
"Why not?"
"I just-" She gulped, looked up at him. "I don't think I...ever could…"
He was quiet for a moment. "And I hope you never do. But just in case…"
She watched him, her wide, deep ocean eyes searching, and after a moment, she nodded. "Okay...thank you."
She picked it up, carefully, with two fingers, and sat it down beside her on the sleeping bag.
"The car doesn't count, John…"
He sat for a moment, watching her, as she turned towards the dog once again, the voice echoing inside his skull. The pitbull lay against her leg, his head resting on her knee. Seemingly asleep...but when her hand touched him, his tail began wagging again.
John studied her, watching the way she moved, the beaming smile on her face when the canines brown eyes cracked open and looked up into her face. The hand that strayed under his chin, scratching him just the way he liked, until he bicycled a back leg and she giggled at the sight.
Another voice, this one also that of his late wife, "What about her?"
Her hand, turned the way it was, in the sunlight, and he saw it. Bruises. Large and purple.
Any sign of a smile cracking John's face disappeared quickly. A hand reached out, and he took her wrist, pulled it toward himself. She gasped, tried to pull away. When she realized she wouldn't get free, she looked up at him, her eyes full of worry.
"John…"
He didn't answer, his fingers running across the smooth skin, and the bruises beneath. After a moment, he turned away, moving to stand. In three quick sides he was across the room, taking up his rifle.
"John...what are you doing?" Her voice was small, scared. Even the dog had moved to stand, watching as John worked.
"I told you…" He muttered, his hand falling against an ammo case not far from where the rifle had been. He pulled it open, rummaging in its confines. "I will find them...and when I do-"
"You're leaving?" Her voice was different now, damaged, cracked with her emotions, and ran through with tears, and when he looked up, her hands were on her face, covering her eyes.
"I'll come back…" He offered, still pulling shells from the case.
"No, you won't.." Louder now, "I've seen what he can do."
"Eden." His voice was stern, warm but firm, "I will come back."
He left it at that, moving around the cave and gathering his supplies. Returning to the area where she sat, he dug within his pack, pulling out another spare shirt (his last one). Eden sat silent, watching him move, tears falling silently down her cheeks. He saw it, noticed it, but it nothing but drive him to move.
The bruises, the fear, the dark cloud that loomed over her shoulder. He knew she wouldn't ever be truly happy until she was safe. Really safe.
He pulled the shirt around his shoulders, going through a list of supplies in his head. He found a switchblade at the bottom of the pack and stuffed it into the top of his combat boots.
Normally they were not his style...but when out in the woods, dress shoes wouldn't do.
Buttoning his shirt, he looked over at her, and she had turned away, holding onto the dog for dear life. The dog seemed more than happy to fulfill her needs, cuddled up against her.
It didn't take much longer and he grabbed the strap of his rifle, slung his pack over his back and turned towards the cave entrance.
Seeing his master preparing to move, the dog leapt up, obediently at his side.
"No." John said shortly, looking over his shoulder to Eden. "You stay here. With her." He nodded back to the girl weeping silently on his bed. "She needs you."
A sound broke the stillness, the sound of a pained sob, and before John could react, 100 pounds of small and blonde had slammed into his back.
"P-please…" He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her fingers clutching at his suit jacket. "don't leave!"
"Eden…"