John couldn't sleep, but he could never sleep during the day. The sun had come up a couple of hours ago and he lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, his left arm straight out next to him. Mercy's head lay on his bicep, facing towards him, her hand on his chest and her leg resting on his. She was finally asleep. He looked down at her, the corners of his mouth twisting up. Mine.
He tried not to chuckle again as he thought back to her revealing her name. It was serendipitous. It was too perfect. Mercy. He'd laughed long and hard, not believing her at first, wondering perhaps if the God his brother worshipped was playing a cruel prank on him. But she was serious, and she was merciful, forgiving him for the horrors he'd put her through, the horrors he now felt a twinge of regret over.
He was trying not to worry about what the following day would bring. What would she do when she saw her people again? Would she just run to them and not look back? Would she try and attack him? Of course, he wasn't going to give her a gun – he wanted to trust her, but he couldn't completely. Not yet.
"Let her take control of the situation," Joseph had told him earlier that day. "Let this be a test."
Test for what? For her loyalty? Test the Resistance to see what they'll do? He knew Jacob still had one of her team up in the Whitetail mountains, whatever his name was. The only thing he remembered was Jacob describing his captive as 'cute'. He didn't want to know what that meant.
He tried to distract himself by thinking about how much he'd changed over the last few months. How much she had changed him. He was surprised at the effect she'd had on him – he always considered himself a man whom nothing could surprise. He'd seen it all. He'd experienced it all. All of the pain and suffering he'd endured throughout his life had given him the tools to build an impenetrable wall around himself. Nothing could shock him – except her.
She wriggled in her sleep and pulled closer to him, her hand moving from his chest to his shoulder, her face turned up to his slightly. He fought off the urge to kiss her (She needs to sleep.), so he recalled their first kiss in the river all those months ago.
He thought she was trying to escape when he saw her running on the airstrip - it's not like the fence was secure. Something in him snapped, and he jumped on the quad bike, racing to try and catch her. The embarrassment he felt when he realised she was just going for a run, finally enjoying being outdoors after three months in captivity, quickly turned into anger (at himself, for being so stupid). But, John being John, he lost control. He vaguely remembered killing the guards that were supposed to be watching her before taking her to the river to Cleanse her properly. He'd planned on making a show of it to the Project, but some irrational part of his brain said that if he did it straight away, she couldn't leave. He watched her relax as he held her under the water, her hair floating around her face dreamily, and for the first time since joining his brother's Project he gave into his desires, and he kissed her.
He closed his eyes, thinking about the kiss.
How she looked when he pulled her from the water. The way the drops of water trickled down from her hair, over her face, down her neck and disappeared under the neckline of her dress. The feeling of her heartbeat under his palm. The way her lips felt against his as he kissed her. Her arms encircling his torso, pressing her body against his. The anger and shame he'd felt afterwards.
It was the first time he'd kissed a woman in years, sober at that, and god it felt good. Despite her initial hesitation, she returned the kiss and he had to stop himself before it went any further, feeling anger at his lack of control rising within him. He'd taken that anger out on his lamp.
John yawned, thoughts moving onto the day he took her to Fall's End for Mass, and the shitshow that followed the service. How he'd told her to get into the helicopter to serve as a distraction, so he could get away safely by car. He'd made the mistake of going to Joseph's compound that day and was once again made to pay for his error in judgement, by means of six deep cuts in his back. He was exhausted and in pain by the time he got back to the Ranch, and as he undressed in his room, that's when he realised he needed her.
He tossed his bloody shirt on the bed and sighed. For the first time he disagreed with Joseph that punishment was required, how could he have known the people of Fall's End would retaliate so swiftly? How could be possibly know that Hudson was going to lead an attack on the town that day? He needed to do something to take his mind off the pain, and because he had neither drugs nor alcohol at his disposal, he went for the next best thing – a warm body. He just wanted to hold her, to feel the comfort of having someone near. He stalked out of his room to the guards outside her door.
"Get out." he hissed, and watched them scramble out of the house before he stepped into her room, approached the bed and slid smoothly in behind her.
He didn't want her looking at him, so snaked his arm around her waist to hold her still. It was her sleepy voice, tiredly calling out his name, that brought him undone. He couldn't reply, only pull her against him harder and try not to let his emotions spill over, but he failed miserably. He held her and cried silently, and she didn't say anything, just put her hand on his gently and let him hold her.
He expected that to be the only time, as it showed her his weakness, made him vulnerable. But she hadn't rejected him and didn't say anything, so he did it again a few nights later. Then a couple of nights after that. And then the night after that. Night after night, he'd slip into bed with her, hold her close to his body, and sleep, properly sleep, not plagued by worries or nightmares. He found peace and calm with her, something he hadn't felt in years, and he didn't want to let that go.
Eventually the deputy tried asking him about it on a few occasions, but he wouldn't answer her, mostly because he didn't know how to put into words what he was feeling, but partly because he didn't quite trust her yet, and didn't want her to exploit his weakness to the Resistance, should she escape. But she didn't seem to want to escape. She never tried, not once, and that made him suspicious. Was she planning something else?
Jacob clearly felt the same way, based on the conversation they'd had in John's kitchen while Joseph 'borrowed' Mercy.
"Do you think she's trustworthy?" Jacob asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.
John shrugged slightly. "I don't know. She hasn't shown any desire to leave-"
"Is that because you're distracting her with other desires?" Jacob raised a brow. "Doesn't your song mention becoming strong if you're free of all desire? Are you allowing her to make you weak?"
"What?"
Jacob looked at him bemusedly. "She forgot to put her bra on."
John considered his brother for a moment, before pointing to his thigh. "We've both paid for it, if that's what you're worried about."
His brother shrugged and raised his hands, palms facing towards John. "That's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried you're straying from our mission. You do what you want, little brother, but remember the example you're setting for the flock. And if she goes back to the Resistance, I'll kill her myself." He crossed his arms again. "What does she know about the Resistance?"
He shook his head. It seemed every conversation he had with Jacob ended up with him reminding John that he was the youngest and the weakest in their family. Every. Damn. Time. "Nothing, other than Hudson is no longer in Faith's care. She doesn't know about Whitehorse, the Marshal or the guy you've got up in the Mountains."
Jacob closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly. "Ah, Faith is so mad that woman escaped. I think she was really starting to like her. As for the other one, he's a good pup. I don't plan on letting him go any time soon." He looked at John again. "Joseph wants her to talk to Whitehorse, try and get him on our side. If he doesn't join, his only other option is to leave. If he doesn't leave, I'll destroy the prison."
John considered his brother. "Is there another option? Pump Bliss into the air vents, try and sedate them?" He doubted she was going to like any of those options, and he wanted to try and keep her on his side.
"Nope." Jacob replied simply. "They're really fucking things up in Henbane River. Joseph's had enough. Figures she might do better at negotiating with them than we were."
He hoped she was. The mission was to save as many people as they could. They had the space. They had the provisions. But the Resistance was really starting to put a dent in their plans, and they had to be stopped. Whitehorse had taken the position of leader in their camp, and Mercy knew him, so the hope was she could convince him to stand down. She moved again, rolling onto her back, frowning and pushing the blanket down to her stomach.
"No," she mumbled. "No stop, stop. Earl, please. Don't."
He turned to face her and put his hand on her cheek. She relaxed immediately and was still again. He reached down and pulled the blanket back up, his hand coming to rest on one of her breasts, feeling her chest rise and fall under his touch. Her breathing quickened and she spoke again. If he hadn't heard the words before, he wouldn't have caught what she said:
"Why do you even bother going to your room?"
He bit his tongue, trying not to laugh. "I wonder what you're dreaming about?" he whispered sarcastically. He knew of course, because she'd asked him that same question the previous night.
"Why do you even bother going to your room, you end up coming to see me anyway."
Mercy was right, of course. John always ended up in her bed - he never spoke of it though, preferring to ignore the elephant in the room. He found comfort in her bed at night, and he'd done it so often it was habit. He'd wanted so many times to just take her as they lay in that bed together, but knew doing so would destroy the trust he had established. It was getting harder though to be so close to her, night after night, and not tell her how he felt, to not show her how much he wanted her. He considered not going to see her, just to spite her, but he couldn't keep away. As he turned on the shower, he made a decision. He waited until she'd gone to bed before he went to her room. He needed to know if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He didn't care if it was a sin - he would gladly take punishment for this.
So he found himself in her bed once more, this time turning her to face him and leaning down to kiss her. He stopped himself, debating whether this was the right decision after all - what if she rejected him? But then she said that one word he needed to hear.
"Yes."
Finally, he could kiss her again after so many months of restraint, and she returned the kiss immediately, without hesitation. He tried being patient and gentle with her, he tried to take his time, but his desire and his excitement got in the way and soon he was kissing her hard, his free hand moving to hold her hip and he was pressing his chest against hers, pinning her beneath him. She didn't try and fight him off though, instead running her hand down the side of his body, leaving a burning trail in his skin where she'd touched him. He felt her freeze when she realised he was naked, and he stopped too, suddenly annoyed with himself. He wasn't going to bed her for the first time in his guest room. No, it would be in his bed, where she belonged.
So he ripped the blanket from the bed and scooped her up in his arms to take her to his room. He practically threw her onto the bed and pounced on her, covering her mouth with his and pressing his hips into hers. Slowly, he started kissing his way down her body from her jaw to her stomach, when she placed her hand on the top of his head.
"Don't be so impatient," he'd said, but really he was saying that to himself, for it was taking all of his self-control to not rip off her underwear. He continued on his journey, all the way down to her knee, before making his way back up the inside of her thigh. He stopped and closed his eyes, waiting, but nudged her when she didn't say anything.
"Yes."
His mouth was on her before she'd finished the word, pressing his tongue against her soaking underwear. She raised her hips up to him and he pulled back enough to remove the garment before hastily going back to her, this time without any hesitation. She was hot, and wet, and sweet and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her hips pressing up against him every so often, listening to her uneven breathing.
He wanted to touch her, badly, and considered slipping his index finger into her, but then thought better of it. It needed to be him inside her, not his fingers. But she'd already felt his hand there and begged him to touch her.
"John, please."
Those two words nearly did him in. He pulled away, resting his cheek on her thigh, fighting for control of his body. Calm down you idiot, you're acting like a horny teenager. She sat up and started to ask him if he was okay, and he used the opportunity to pull her shirt from her body, removing the last piece of her clothing and throwing it on the floor.
His mind was foggy with need and lust, and he could taste her on his lips as he crawled back up her body and sucked her nipple into his mouth. When she reached to take him in her hand, he'd pushed her hand away. He needed to be inside her, he couldn't wait any longer. So he positioned his hips between her thighs and stopped. It had been so many years, what if he couldn't handle it?
"Yes."
His doubts were pushed from his mind when she said that. He pressed himself into her and was taken aback by how good he felt. He buried his face in her neck and was still, just enjoying the feeling of being close to her. Mercy shifted her legs, bringing them around his hips and he pushed in further, biting his tongue as she gasped, that small sound threatening to push him over the edge too soon. He finally calmed down enough to move, rutting against her gently, trying to control his lust. It was pointless, of course - she made soft noises beneath him, spurning him on, making it impossible to be gentle and eventually he was driving into her and she was breathing hard, moaning softly, head back and eyes closed, lips parted in the most inviting way. He kissed her, he tried to kiss her, the motions of their bodies making it awkward, his hands under her shoulders, pulling her body down to meet him. Suddenly she clamped down around him, crying out as she came, came for him, and he couldn't help but follow, spilling himself into her, holding her body to his tightly.
He stayed there for a long time, in awe of the feeling of her breath on his shoulder, her heart beating hard against his chest, the way her hands caressed his back, the way she twitched as aftershocks of pleasure took hold of her body. It was then, he realised, that he was in too deep. He couldn't let her go.
He tore himself from his lustful memory, swallowing hard. She'd turned away from him and found her pillow again, so he carefully got out of bed, pulled on his jeans and went outside. Brother James was out there too, despite not being on guard.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked Brother James. The sun shone brightly overhead and warmed his skin.
"No, it's too bright," he replied, smirking at John. "What's your excuse?"
John shot him a warning look, but couldn't repress his smile. "The same as you," he said carefully. "And I'm worried."
Brother James nodded, he didn't have to ask why. "I don't think you need to be as worried as you are," he shrugged. "The Father obviously trusts her. She may not agree with us completely, but she's built trust within our community. She's earned the respect and forgiveness of our people. She's helped you. That is a miracle in itself." He chuckled then.
"You've noticed too, huh?" John asked him.
"We've all noticed, John. She's doing good work here."
They stood in silence for a while, and eventually, Mercy came outside and stood with them. She looked as worried as he felt. Silently, she reached for his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking towards the road. He looked down at the top of her head, her red hair glistening in the sun, and squeezed her hand. She was doing good work for the Project, and she had helped him. He just hoped she'd remember that when she was back with her people tomorrow.