Chapter 6

Rook slowed down again, and just like last time she paid the price for it.

After hijacking yet another set of Peggie laptops (that looked like they all came from 2004… seriously Eden's Gate, get with the times) Rook and Adelaide headed out again in Tulip to a compound near the Sacred Skies Youth Camp, Nick Rye in Carmina roaring somewhere behind them as backup. The ride over set Rook's teeth on edge, caught in that uncomfortable valley between wanting to flee and her obligation to help. It was like the familiar feeling of being watched by a threat, except instead of being alone and thinking she at least had the security of John being trapped in the Valley, now she had company but the drunken promise of him coming for her and snatching her back into his clutches. Her leg jittered in the helicopter, so violently Adelaide snorted and remarked, "Goddamn, look at you go, grasshopper. Did they name the drink after you, honey?"

"Is So-Cal sure about this shipment, Addie?" Nick crackled through Rook's headset, before she had to reply. "I mean, what with Dep goin' buck wild on the Henbane 'n' all, seems like they wouldn't have enough Bliss left to make a puddle, let alone poison the rest of the county's water with the shit."

"The laptop's intel said they've been squirrelling it away for weeks, what with the Immortal Wonder wreckin' up the place like a sexy bat outta hell," Adelaide answered smoothly.

"And Xander used the kale versus avocado comparison again, so he's serious as a heart attack," Rook interjected, too keyed up to so much as blush at Addie's usual flirting.

Nick cursed. "Goddamn, that makes me madder'n anything. It's bad enough I gotta worry about Peggies tryna kidnap my wife, but now we can't even trust our kitchen sink? Kim's already stuck at home all the time, and she's real pissed about Jo—er, the Peggies stealin' all our baby supplies, and now she might not even be able to get a drink of water? What the fuck's that Bliss shit gonna do to my son?"

Not for the first time, Rook winced at Nick's steadfast denial of his future child's sex, but covered it up before Addie could see and question her about it. It inched too close to her father and all the ways she disappointed him with the unforgivable accident of being born a girl, no matter what half-baked ideas of masculinity he strong-armed her into. She pushed it aside though, having too much faith in Nick's genuineness and warmth for her to believe he'd ever even come close to the drunken misogynist that Rook could barely say raised her—the way he bragged with ruddy cheeks and a face-splitting grin about his kid at the 8-Bit after too many beers was a testament to that.

"Shit, maybe if Kim does drink the crap it'll actually give you a son," Rook quipped to try to lighten the mood, even if it came out a little sharper than she meant it to.

"You think?" said Nick with barely concealed excitement.

"No," Rook and Adelaide deadpanned collectively, sending each other exasperated side-glances.

They soon came upon the unconquered outpost, near to which was an open field packed with dozens of gas tankers, trucks and unloaded crates that were undoubtedly full of Bliss. From the air, it looked like enough to poison the entire state of Montana, let alone the drinking water of two thirds of a county. With Nick Rye as backup strafing the place in Carmina and Addie hollering with joy as she shot the tankers into murky green clouds with Tulip's mounted guns, it took less than an hour for them to clear the place of Peggies, Bliss, and their plan to drug the water systems of Holland Valley and the Whitetail Mountains.

It was only when they touched back down at the Drubman marina did Rook's unease calm down a little, so close to the border she could almost taste the tang of rotting meat in the air and see the violent red haze that came with Jacob's favorite song…

Up until Adelaide blurted out, like God had shoved the thought into her head unprompted just to rile Rook back up, "So uh, that John Seed wants you really bad. Have you considered he's maybe in some kind of love with you?"

Rook choked on the swig of canteen water she was taking, coughing and spluttering like the day said soulmate half-drowned her in his mock baptism. This wasn't the first time Addie had brought up the topic of John, or John and sex (Rook was never going to get the memory of Addie telling her John's name was on her 'Any Hole' list… dear fucking Lord) but this one came out of left field.

"The fuck, Addie?" she wheezed, when her airways opened enough to allow it.

Addie shrugged one shoulder, but her grin was smug, like she knew something Rook didn't. "Oh come on, like you ain't thought it before. Yeah, he ought've killed you two or three times already, but he's playing cat and mouse. Just sayin', next time you find yourself alone with him, maybe a good long something or other could save our necks."

Rook's face absolutely caught fire at the remembrance of John begging for a 'good long something or other' over the radio as he fucked his own hand and cried his pleasure into her ear.

"Are you blushin'? That's cute," Addie teased, and Rook sent her the same glare she usually reserved for the worst of Peggies.

"I am not gonna fuck John Seed," she hissed, busying herself with checking her weapon holsters so she wouldn't have to take in Adelaide's smug grin. "Where the hell did this even come from?"

"Oh honey, you should hear half the shit he's been broadcasting in his outposts about you," Addie commented, and Rook's blood froze solid under her skin. "Mostly about you bein' a sinner and threatening to hurt the Resistance tenfold every time you push back… not that he ever does it," the other woman snorted. "But a lotta the times he's practically beggin' you to come back. It'd be kinda sweet, y'know, if not for the murder 'n' all. You ain't heard any of that?"

"I haven't been around," Rook muttered, once again trying to push away the memory of John quite literally begging for her through the radio… and the knowledge that Rook might have found her new kink. "Listen, I'm gonna head up to the Mountains for a bit. Can you let me know if you see anything weird down here?"

"Mhm. Wait, weird like how?" asked Adelaide, as Rook headed up the dirt path towards the road.

"I don't know," she lied without looking back. "Just weird."

She started up a jog before Adelaide could question her further, desperate to see the concrete bridge that bordered the Henbane and the Mountains. But Addie's words kept ringing in her mind like a shitty mantra.

'Some kind of in love with her', the older woman had said. Rook snorted at the thought, and fervently ignored the lingering heat in her cheeks. If there was anything Rook got from John's desperate ramblings that night over the radio—besides a mind-blowing orgasm she now deeply regretted—it was that John wanted what he couldn't have and was frustrated to all hell for the fact that he couldn't have her. He was a self-admitted addict, and apparently he'd gotten enough of Rook in the bunker to be frantically chasing the high, disregarding the rules his own brother set forth to get his next fix. She refused to think about love, or the soul bond he knew nothing about, or her having the power to stop all his tyranny with a quick fuck… or fucking him at all, she reminded herself sternly when eager heat twinged between her legs again, like she was the addict and not John.

Just as the bridge loomed into view, the Clutch Nixon monument peeking out over the rocks, there came a giggle in her ear. She whirled around and gasped in a lungful of Bliss, alarm bubbling in her chest at the crinkled green eyes and golden brown hair of her friendly neighborhood ghost girl.

"Welcome to the Bliss…" she whispered, cradling Rook's face in her hands, and things went black.

"Why are you so full of fear?"

The question pulled Rook from the darkness back into the euphoric fog of the Bliss, the pleasant happiness settling in her lungs like the purest air. She blinked and stumbled, finding herself at the end of the flowery path once more, Faith's delicate hands wrapped around her shoulders to keep her balanced. The staves of wood lining the pathway stood like protective sentinels, and antlered animals regarded her with warmth as butterflies flitted happily around her face. She almost giggled when one swept over her cheek like a lover's caress, but Faith twirled in front of her and took hold of her hand again, gently tugging her towards God's blossoming tree in a joyful skip that Rook would have matched, if she had the energy.

"Always running… always moving," Faith cooed, a few little butterflies fluttering around her hair like a halo. "Never alone anymore."

Rook blinked at her as they hopped closer to the tree, unsure of how to answer. She knew the answer, it was somewhere in there… Why couldn't she think?

"It must be so hard," the young woman tutted kindly.

She paused in their travels to cradle Rook's face with one hand, pushing wayward curls behind her ear. Rook frowned—hadn't she braided her hair this morning? When she lifted up a hand to investigate she found her hair had been let loose, little white petals from the tree sticking to her freed curls. She imagined she looked like a forest fairy, nature as her hair ornaments. It was so long now, already just past her waist. When did that happen? Daddy wouldn't like it. He always wanted it short, like a boy's.

"You don't have to fear us, Deputy," Faith whispered, jerking Rook back to the present. "We only wish to help you. To love you. You fight so hard… all for nothing."

Rook frowned, but before she could think long enough to draw up reasons for why Faith was wrong, the girl giggled and grabbed her hand again, skipping over to the tree with the same unnatural speed as before. It left Rook reeling as they came to a gentle halt underneath the tree, its ever-falling blossoms swirling around her hair, brushing against her lips, blessing her eyelids. She blinked away the good feelings to find the Marshal, resting in the flowers with his arms crossed behind his head, a blissful smile on his mouth. He beamed when he spotted Rook.

"Hey, rookie," Burke exclaimed with pure joy, his eyes crinkling and his hand already outstretched in a silent plea for her to join him. "I'm so glad to see you."

Rook looked to Faith for guidance, who nodded with an equally delighted smile, and Rook took his hand and let him guide her to lie at the base of the tree. He kept his hand around hers as they watched the swirl of Bliss in the sky, the sway of the grass tickling their necks. Burke let out a happy sigh, squeezing her hand as Faith maneuvered herself around the both of them, sitting on her knees behind Rook.

"Come here," Faith said gently.

Rook glanced up at her prostrate form before obligingly scooting herself up a little to lay her head in Faith's lap. The other woman began to hum, her voice a beautiful siren song in the haze.

"Isn't this perfect?" Burke breathed, his eyes sliding shut again as Faith got to work sweeping Rook's hair out from under her neck, fanning it out across her dress and running her fingers through it.

Almost, Rook nearly answered, and it wouldn't have been a lie—the only thing that would make this better was having her friends here, safe and cared for and happy—but she felt a distant twinge of fear that it would upset Faith, so she kept quiet.

"It'll be all right," the Marshal said, so earnestly that Rook turned her head to look at him. "There's no need to fear anymore. There is no fear in the Bliss. Just let go."

Rook nodded and let her eyes slide shut, sighing at the feeling of Faith lovingly caressing her head, tugging out her tangles with great care to avoid causing her pain, care that Rook had not felt in months. She tightened her grip on Burke's hand, and felt his delight through his responding squeeze. This was not the same man who barked orders at them all and snarked condescendingly at Earl's caution and left her behind to die once (or twice? She wasn't sure). Such things felt unimportant anyway, especially with the sheer happiness Burke radiated at simply seeing her, having her here. When was the last time someone lit up with the joy of just seeing her?

She almost startled herself out of Faith's lap when she realized that it had been John, in that red-lit bunker, as Joey screamed behind her gag and he flicked through his toolbox for things to hurt her with.

"Why do you fear my brother?" came Faith's whisper through her alarm, and Rook tilted her head up and blinked at Faith's sad smile.

"Huh?" was her eloquent answer, already forgetting what she had just been panicking about.

She shifted in place, noting from the tightness in her scalp that Faith had braided a small section of her hair, and the feeling of petals tickling her ear told her she had woven flowers in as well.

"John speaks of you often," said Faith fondly, and Rook finally realized who she was talking about.

A little flutter started up in her gut, like Rook had swallowed one of the butterflies currently settling on Burke's chest. She tilted her head up to gaze at Faith in awe, silently asking if it was true, and Faith smiled at her again, but it was sad this time.

"You've caused him much pain by spurning his love," she added, a half-scold.

Rook's eyes blew wide open, her mouth parting and her chest hurting at the thought. 'He loves me?' she nearly asked, but the words got stuck around the lump in her throat and a little whimper was all that came out. Faith shushed her with a loving hand on her forehead, which soon travelled to stroke down her temples in a gentle massage.

"It's all right," Faith promised, smoothing back her hair. "John will forgive you. You just have to have faith in him."

Have faith in John. A furrow started between Rook's brows as the thought made alarm bells go off in her head. Have faith in John… but how could she, when it was John?

"I can't," Rook blurted out, on a quiet murmur.

"Why not?"

"I…" Her frown deepened when the reasons wouldn't come to her, no matter how hard she thought. It was like trying to catch smoke with her hands, an impossible task that kept slipping away. "I can't," she repeated, and when that proved to be unenlightening she let out a frustrated noise.

Faith shushed her again, her smile still sad but understanding. "John can be very… intense. Sometimes that can frighten people away. But John just loves more deeply than most people do. He has so much love in his heart that it's too much for him to contain. He wants to share it, but he doesn't know how."

The lump in her throat rose up again as she thought of John and all of his heartbreaking stories, confessions she didn't ask for laid at her doorstep as though too much for him to keep to himself, desperate to share it with her whether or not he knew she could hear him. It seemed more like he had too much pain to contain, and it morphed into rage and obsessive desire and the boundless need to watch things suffer until he was a perfect pet for the Project to wreak upon the so-called 'sinners', spurred on by a warped form of love fed to him by his equally twisted family.

"He's so sad," Rook whispered, the ache in her chest overriding the euphoria of the Bliss.

"You've seen his pain?"

"It's all I see," she answered, feeling her lower lip shiver.

Faith let out a fond noise and another soft hush, her hand leaving Rook's hair. "Everything will be all right. For you to weep for John is a testament to your kindness and compassion."

She was crying? Hands from both sides of her face reached over—one from Faith, one from Burke, now watching her intently—to carefully wipe away the tears sliding down both sides of her cheeks with gentle fingers, prompting her to let out a little surprised, "Oh," and a sniffle.

"Wait here," Faith whispered, lifting her head to lay her back down in the grass, arranging her flowery hair to lay across her chest. "There is someone who wants to see you."

Rook closed her eyes and sniffed again, lifting a groggy hand to wipe at her eyes as she prepared for Joseph to come through the fog like Jesus returning from the dead to proclaim God's word to her. Instead she heard Faith walk beside her, coaxing Burke to his feet with a quiet, "This is not for us," and when Rook opened her eyes again she found Faith and the Marshal already drifting away through the air, powdery white wings springing delicately from Faith's back while Burke held onto her hand and gazed at her like he was being whisked away by a goddess. Sprightly sparkles trailed behind her in their wake as Angel-Faith flew them over the fog and out of sight, while Rook struggled to sit up on her elbows and watch, managing to roll herself onto her hip. She made a cross sound, feeling a twinge of sorrow that she was now alone.

Except she wasn't. The promised guest caught her attention from the rustling of the grass under their feet, and when Rook turned around her heart stopped, because it wasn't Joseph or Jesus—it was John.

He smiled at her from down the flowery path like she was the only thing he had ever wanted to see again in his life. His eyes—God, she loved his eyes—stood out like blue diamonds against the muted shades of green that made up the Bliss, precious things in a sea of commonality. She wanted him, wanted to reach for him and push herself into his arms and accept the love Faith promised he had, but something kept her rooted in place, and it wasn't just the fact that her bones felt too heavy to move. So instead Rook just stared, drinking every inch of him in as he approached, from the jagged pink 'SLOTH' peeking out from his blue silk shirt to the perfect style of his hair, sunglasses glinting in the sunlight.

"Hello, Little Wrathling," he said softly, coming to a halt beside her, the swaying branches of the trees just barely grazing the top of his head like God was trying to reach out and ruffle his hair, and it made Rook irrationally jealous. When she just stared up at him, he crossed his arms, his grin turning smug as he remarked, "Lovely to see you again, after you so rudely snubbed me at my Gate."

Rook didn't even register him trying to rile her up, imploring with wide eyes that he put away what was now obviously a mask. In remembrance of Faith's talk of 'too much to contain' and her worries about him relapsing, she scanned his face carefully for signs of the hurt becoming too much—bloodshot eyes, a reddened nose, shivering hands, a dusting of white anywhere—but found nothing, and shut her eyes and sighed with relief for a moment. When she opened them again, John's haughty mask had indeed fallen away and softened into a sweet little smile, and it was so beautiful that Rook decided Faith was right—he had so much love, just hidden away somewhere, and she would find it for him, wherever it was.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the grass.

His smile grew when Rook nodded eagerly, and as he lowered himself beside her he reached for her hand, which she gave him without hesitation. He used it to pull her close, his fingers tugging so, so gently on the leather of her glove almost like he wanted to take it off, but was resisting the urge. She leaned into him, enthralled, drowning in his eyes and the warmth of his smile, wondering why she ever bothered fearing this beautiful man.

"Tell me, Deputy," he murmured, cradling her hand with both of his like a precious treasure, "do you think you'd be more willing to confess your sins here?"

Confess her sins? She frowned up at him, blinking blearily when a quiet alarm bell went off in the back of her head. She wasn't supposed to talk to him, right? That sounded like a hindrance, but she followed her instincts and sank her teeth into her bottom lip before she could blurt anything out, if she ever regained the capacity to form words. But as her silence stretched on, John's smile fell away more and more, until all that was left was disappointment and a forlorn sigh. His expression was so sad, just like at the river except with an edge of tired dismay. Rook whimpered regretfully, lifting her free hand to touch his face and wipe away the sadness with her fingers.

And it worked. Surprise widened his baby blues for a moment when her gloved thumb skirted over the apple of his cheek, her palm cradling his jaw, before he sighed softly and leaned into her touch like it was everything he needed. She smiled fondly and cooed as he nuzzled his way deeper into her hand, looking so much like a child desperate for affection that it was almost heartbreaking. She caressed his cheek, wanting so badly to wrap up this man in her love so that he would never think about his past again, never need to spread his pain to others just to keep from buckling under the weight of it.

But then he opened his eyes, and his own hand lifted to return the gesture. It reminded her of the bunker, when she was almost tearing apart her own skin just to lean away from the promise of his touch, and the echo of alarm she felt back then made Rook startle and lean away on instinct, her hand pulling away from his face. They both froze in place, staring wide-eyed at each other from the shock of the gesture, before John went back to looking crushed, like she broke his heart clean in two. She made another upset noise and reached back over to touch him, because it worked last time, but he just caught her hand with his own and sighed forlornly, bringing it close to cradle it against his graffitied chest.

"When I was in law school," John began, and Rook immediately leaned back in at the promise of another story of his past, another piece of her soulmate's life. He caught the gesture, and the side of his mouth quirked up bashfully before he continued, "When I was in law school, I had a teacher's assistant. He reminded me of my father. Held himself with the same posture, had the same frown. I avoided speaking with him… because I feared he would be just as cruel." John stared down at her, still cradling her hand like a priceless relic. "Is that why you fear me? Do I remind you of someone bad, Deputy?"

That wasn't right, and she told him so with a hasty shake of her head. It wasn't that, it was because… because… Why did she fear him again? They frowned in tandem, Rook as she tried to wrack her brains for the answer, John in confusion as his theory was shot down. He opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to question her further, but closed it for whatever reason. Instead, he lifted her gloved hand to his face and carefully studied the skin-like cracks in the leather, tracing his inked fingers down the arch of her palm in a way that would have been ticklish, if she could feel it.

"Do you hear me sometimes?" John asked, so quietly that Rook almost didn't hear it over the hiss of the wind. "I speak to you. I don't think you always hear, but… maybe you've found it and stopped to listen, once or twice?"

He looked so hopeful, and Rook was glad to be able to please him as she nodded her head dreamily, basking in the boyish beam of delight that followed her confirmation. She wanted to follow the stretch of his smile with her fingers, but John was still busy clutching onto them for dear life.

"Then you understand," he exclaimed, looking down at her in earnest. "You must understand what it is I want, then."

"Never have I wanted anything more than I've wanted you…"

For what had to be the umpteenth time since John's last radio call, Rook blushed furiously, her cheeks lighting up like little lanterns in the dark as the sound of his pleasured moans and drunken pleas echoed in her ears. She knew exactly what he wanted, and it was her, oh God it was her. She tried ducking her head to hide the heat of her face, but John—very carefully—reached a hand forward and caught a lock of her hair between two fingers, pushing it aside to study the pink sweeping across her cheeks with rapturous interest.

He leaned in close to watch her, and the smell of him wafted over the musk of Bliss, like spice and pine and woodsmoke. She wanted to close her eyes and bury her head in his neck, just for the privilege of breathing him in, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his, hooded with longing as he caressed her face with his gaze like she wouldn't allow him to with his hands. When he caught her staring back, he let out a puff of breath—not in shock, but something more akin to a stab of desire, perhaps—and the warm air fluttered over her face. She breathed it in, dangerously wondering what he would taste like if he smelled so good. He was close enough that just a tilt of her head would allow her to take his bottom lip between hers, and she let out a shivery breath when she realized how deeply she wanted to do that.

"You don't have to fear me, my Wrathling," John whispered to her, like it was a precious secret.

She followed the barely-there movement of his mouth with a yearning so strong it surprised even her stoned self. Was this the bond making her like this, or was it the sheer allure of John Seed all on his own? Could he feel their bond, even if he didn't know it existed? She got her confirmation with a thrill that swept from her stomach downward when John's eyes dipped down to stare at her lips with barely concealed desire.

"I want so badly to help you… to keep you safe, with me," he breathed, his head tilting almost unconsciously towards hers, the breath of his words tickling her lips. "All you have to do is let me in. All you have to do…"

If Rook so much as twitched to the side, their noses would have brushed. Was he going to kiss her? She might beg, if he didn't.

"… is say yes."

She moaned out her approval instead, when John finally fitted his mouth to hers, and every nerve ending in her body caught fire in an almost unbearably sharp pleasure that put the half-baked euphoria of the Bliss to utter shame. Her free hand whipped up to seize the delicate lapels of his shirt in case he dared to lean away, pushing him harder against her mouth, her heavy limbs wriggling in an effort to meld herself to his body. Her hips rocked forward into empty air in search of more, ceasing only when she collided with his hip as he sought the same.

The noises he was making finally managed to pierce through the ringing in her ears, and it was a beautiful chorus of startled pleasure and the desperate desire for more. His hands dropped her gloved one to plunge into her hair and seize hold of her face like he'd always wanted to, and every extra inch of skin that met hers seemed to amplify the ecstasy screaming in her blood tenfold. She returned the gesture, releasing his shirt to card her hand through his hair, his sunglasses dropping with a muted noise into the grass. She snarled like a savage thing when it did next to nothing, the stupid gloves hindering her progress, and the noise was so shocking that it startled John enough into pulling his mouth away, staring down at her with drunken confusion.

She frowned when his eyes widened and his hand pulled away from her face, taking the pleasure with it, and she opened her mouth to protest but stopped when the familiar tinge of black at the edges of her vision warned her that the Bliss would soon take her. She tried shaking her head, but when that did nothing to help she looked to John for help, barely noticing the steady look of absolute shock and realization blossoming on his face as it disappeared into the blackness like a brewing storm cloud.

In one last bid to stay in this magical moment, Rook reached for John again and breathed out, "No," before the darkness finally stole her away.

A/N: Happy Mother's Day, here's a cliffhanger :3

Special thanks to Toushou-sama.