A/N: Hello, all! Finally back with the next chapter, and it's another long one. Not quite as long as the last, but it's up there. As far as these interludes go, I think they'll steadily get smaller, or at least I'll strive for that! This chapter song is "First" by Cold War Kids, and it's a pretty great song for Mason overall. And speaking of Mason, I will warn you that she gets a little violent in this one, so just so you're aware. Also, there is a trigger warning for abuse from a parent/mention of acephobia from said parent. It's brief, but I didn't want anyone to proceed unwarned. As always, thanks so much to my readers and reviewers, you truly are the best. Hope you enjoy!
19. Second Interim, pt. 2: First
After finishing the dawn watch shift, Mason went for a jog around the quarry, admiring the way the rising sun glinted off the water.
She'd found the quarry last month, venturing out farther than Ezekiel really wanted her to in her search for walkers. Sam and her wife, Bea, said the county dug it out years back to mine for limestone, but it never amounted to anything and was left to fill with water.
"They tried again about ten, fifteen miles out?" Sam said. "Nothing nice about that one; it's an eyesore. Hollowed it out for stone and sand to help construct this upscale community to the north. Don't know if they ever finished. Everything started going to hell around that time."
The solitude was refreshing. She'd started leading training sessions, so that Ezekiel's people would be better prepared if faced with hand-to-hand combat. It was…overwhelming. Aside from a few who opted out, Everett among them, she was basically teaching the entirety of the group, which hovered around forty-five. Over half of them were older than her and she'd never instructed anyone about anything on this level before. Rita stuck around to help out but mostly let Mason lead the sessions herself. So it was stressful to say the least.
When she finished her last circuit, she made her usual rounds through the woods, searching for Saviors and singing for walkers. It was slow going, building back her supply of the dead. Since the blizzard, there hadn't been nearly as many. She wondered if the storm had thrown them off their course, driven them elsewhere. It was too much to hope they might slowly be dying off.
Luck brought her one for gutting, then four more as she ranged north through the late spring greenery. But she paused as she led them toward her designated walker holding house.
A mountain bike leaned against a tree, laden with sacks and baskets of supplies.
Mason fell silent, heart racing. Everything else still glistened from the heavy rain they'd gotten last night, but the bike and supplies were dry. Someone was out here. She couldn't imagine anyone leaving their shit unguarded for long, but she couldn't see anyone.
"What do you guys think?" she murmured.
The walkers milled around her, letting out putrid sighs through champing teeth.
"Yeah, I'm not sure about it either. But I think I'll regret leaving it."
Slowly, she stepped forward. Senses taut, she extended her iron and tipped the bike over.
The bags spilled, but nothing else happened. No wires, no weapons, no traps snapping down. Rabbit-quick, she darted forward and gathered the supplies in her arms.
"Hey!"
She looked up just in time to see a shrouded figure leap and grab a nearby tree branch. They swung toward her. Boots caught her shoulder and the side of her head.
She hissed and rolled away, cradling the supplies to her chest. The walkers snarled, converging as the stranger stuck a graceful landing and pulled down their hood.
"Sorry." The man sounded anything but. His blue eyes glinted. "Can't let you take what's mine, though, hon."
"Maybe don't leave it out where anyone can find it then." She kicked out, attempting to knock his legs from under him.
He dodged her agilely, spinning as the dead attempted to grab him. His elbow came up, crunched the face of one walker. He ducked, rammed his shoulder into the chest of a second and tossing it to the ground.
Mason couldn't help staring. Who the fuck was this guy?
One of Negan's men, had to be. Her eyes narrowed and she reached for her gun.
The man didn't notice at first, too busy taking her walkers out with ever-increasing ostentation. She might have tried to shoot him then, but he jumped around so quickly she was sure she wouldn't hit him. But if he moved like that, she wasn't sure she wanted to chance a one-on-one with him either. Other option was taking the shit and running, but she didn't want to risk leaving him alive.
While she debated this, the man…ricocheted off a fucking tree like a circus performer. She squinted, torn between jealousy and irritation.
When the walkers were dead, the man froze, spotting her gun.
"Okay. Hang on," he said. "I don't think you wanna shoot me over a few bags."
"I don't think you wanna tell me what I'm thinking."
"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just wondering if maybe there's another way out of this."
"There's not. Hands up, asshole."
"Look, we got off on the wrong foot. I mean, you were the one stealing my supplies, so—"
"Shut up. This isn't just about supplies, and you fucking know it."
The man raised an eyebrow. She didn't think he looked intimidated enough.
"Alright," she said after a moment. "You want another way out? Tell me where Negan is."
Realization darkened his gaze. "You know Negan?"
"Tell me where he's hiding out, where he's really hiding out, and maybe you get to live."
Behind her, there came a snapping of branches and the rasp of walkers. They must have been drawn by the noise. She didn't turn, assured by her blood paint, but the man's eyes widened.
"How about we do this after?"
"You're on my time, buddy."
"Look, I'm not who you think I am. I'm not one of…them. The Saviors. But I do know them. Maybe we can help each other."
He seemed sincere, but…
The walkers brushed past her without a second glance. "I don't think so," she said. "From where I'm standing, looks like you're the only one who needs help here."
Earnestness dissolved in exasperation. "Okay, I'm really sorry about this, but—"
In a burst of movement, the man kicked the gun out of her hands and turned on the walkers. Teeth clenched, Mason drew her fire poker. If she could just get a nice clean jab at his legs…
He tossed one of the walkers against the trunk of the little tree she stood under, hard enough that the branches shook. A shower of fat droplets rained down from where they'd accumulated on the leaves above, washing the blood from her skin in thick rivulets.
Walkers turned in her direction.
Fuck.
She raised her iron, but hands seized her leg before she could swing it. The walker the man threw against the tree pulled itself toward her, teeth clicking robotically at her calf. Its grip was unexpectedly strong; it pulled her off balance as she twisted to stab it.
"Shit," she hissed, half-collapsing against the tree. She shoved to keep the other walkers away, but couldn't get enough leverage to dispatch the one at her feet.
The man appeared out of nowhere, stabbing the walker in the head and swinging himself between her and the others.
"Stay behind me and I'll get the rest," he said.
Mason's lip curled. Like she couldn't handle it on her own.
"Don't patronize me, asshole." And she hurled herself at the walkers.
They took down the rest of the group together, though Mason's instincts screamed to keep the walkers alive. Once they lay at their feet, Mason turned warily to face the man.
"See?" The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Teamwork."
"I helped you. You owe me."
"You're a real sweetheart, aren't you?" It was less angry than teasing, but there was an edge that Mason couldn't place. "But I can't let you take my supplies. I need them."
"No, just…the truth. You owe me the truth. Who are you?"
The man blinked. "Paul Rovia," he finally said. "Or Jesus, if you want. All my friends call me that."
"How do you know Negan?"
His eyes darkened. "I…live with some other people. Those friends I mentioned. Our leader, he didn't want to fight. So he knelt instead, and now we all serve the Saviors."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you go along with it, when you could fight back?"
"My people don't fight back because they're afraid. They think this is the best option, the only option. I don't because my people mean more to me than my pride."
What about your freedom? she wanted to ask, but didn't. She wasn't sure she liked this man, but she didn't think he was lying to her. His answers seemed sincere. If she were being honest, though she'd told herself he must be, he'd never really seemed like a Savior to begin with.
"Well?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do I pass the test?"
She nodded shortly. "Yeah. But before you get your stuff back, I want to ask you one more thing."
His lips twitched. "Alright, sweetheart, hit me."
"Think you could teach me how to fight like that?"
~m~
She didn't tell anyone about Jesus. It was probably incredibly stupid not to, but she didn't want anyone else involved in case things went south. She didn't plan on keeping it a secret forever, just until she was positive she could really trust him.
The house was loud that night. Laughter emanated from the living room, and Monty and Dray worked side-by-side in the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, shrugging off her fire iron.
"Mason!" Monty waved with a flour-covered hand. "I'd say you're just in time to help us with this cobbler, but I want it to turn out edible."
Dray snorted and Mason rolled her eyes.
"Uh huh, yeah, that's hilarious."
"Mason, come on. Don't you remember that time you tried to make fry bread at our house?" Dray said. "You nearly—"
"I nearly set the kitchen on fire and killed us all, I know, I know. You don't have to bring that up every other Sunday."
She supposed in retrospect it was a little funny. She'd panicked and tried to put the grease fire out with water, but she'd slipped and spilled the whole pot on herself instead. Luckily Dray had smothered it with baking soda, seeing as he wasn't a dumbass.
"Dray, why don't you tell Mason about your fourth birthday?" Monty said, eyes sparkling.
"Dad. No."
Mason grinned. "Wait, what about his fourth birthday?"
"Nothing about my fourth birthday."
"Well," Monty began, clearly enjoying this, "one of his presents that year was a little bag of mini Reese's cups, you know?"
"Absolutely, they're delicious."
"Please, Dad, do not give her any ammo."
"No, Dad, give me all the ammo."
Dray tried to protest again but Mason flapped her hands in front of his face to shush him.
"So Elisha and I, we walk into the kitchen to light the candles on his cake, but when we bring it out, we see him shoving the Reese's cups down the back of his shorts. And we asked him, you know, what in god's name are you doing. And he pointed to his shorts, hands all sticky with melted chocolate, and said, 'It where the poop goes!'"
Dray groaned. Mason gave him an evil grin.
"So what you're saying is I should definitely start referring to him exclusively as Butt-ercup?"
"Mason, no. Dad, you know how she is with puns!"
"Aw, son, I'm sorry, I just thought we were sharing funny food stories." Monty smiled cheerfully and locked Dray in a one-armed hug.
With a few last parting puns, Mason ventured into the living room. She was surprised to see that it wasn't just her Misfits causing the ruckus. Scott, Kelsey, Rita and Jerry were there, too, all of them locked in an uproarious game of truth or Jenga.
Mason's heart swelled at the sight, especially when she spotted Ava, having the time of her life messing with Tanner while he tried to pull a block from the tower. When she spotted Mason, she bounced happily.
"Mason!" Renee beckoned her. "Come help us sabotage Tanner's win streak."
Stifling the residual anxiety at being around such brightness and laughter, Mason joined them.
And it was nice, for a while.
Dave was a loud and enthusiastic cheerleader, no matter how silly the prompt. Rita lounged in the background, goading everyone on when it looked like they might chicken out. Scott kept score, until Kelsey called him out for giving himself extra points. There were a few precious moments when Mason almost felt normal again.
Soon, however, she craved a bit of stillness. Whatever was wrong in her heart squeezed tighter and tighter, until she could barely fake a smile.
Ashlee nudged her. "Hey. Wanna come up to the roof with me and tango with Bigfoot?" That was the silly code they'd come up with so their parents wouldn't know they smoked weed.
There was sympathy in her eyes. Mason grimaced. Things had gotten a little better since working things out with her Misfits, but not by much. She'd been hiding it pretty well, though. At least, she'd thought.
"I mean, I'd like to, but I probably shouldn't," she whispered back. She was technically off duty, but that didn't mean the Saviors couldn't attack at any moment.
"That's okay. You could still come sit with me if you want. If you needed a break."
Gratefulness washed over her. "Yeah, maybe just for a bit."
They slipped out of the group and climbed to the roof, sitting on the ledge to let their legs dangle. It was comfortably quiet for a while and Mason did end up taking a hit, though just a small one. It was enough to loosen something in her chest.
"I miss all those days we hung out in our basement," Ashlee murmured. "It wasn't ever anything special until we had all of you to fill it with. Actually, it kinda scared me before. There were spiders and stuff… That's, like, silly when I think about it now."
Mason smiled. "Yeah… Remember Mr. Funky Chicken?"
Ashlee giggled puffs of smoke. "Yes! Oh my god, and the murder mystery?"
"Hey, that was some intense Law and Order shit. That chicken was choked, hard."
Ashlee leaned back, snorting and kicking her legs. Smoke drifted from her nose.
"Dude, you look like a dragon."
Ashlee blinked teary eyes up at the stars. Slowly, her smile faded.
"Sometimes I wish my parents hadn't come." Immediately, her eyes went wide. "Tell me that doesn't make me a bad person."
The words brought on a pang of sadness. "It doesn't," Mason said. What she really wanted to say was, Don't let those assholes make you feel this way. They were horrible parents and from what I can tell, the apocalypse hasn't changed that. But she knew Ashlee would resist, so she boiled it down to, "You're not obligated to want them around."
"But they're family. Isn't that obligation enough?"
"No," Mason said firmly. "It's not enough. Blood only earns you so much, you know? They've gotta earn the rest, by being there for you. Being an actual support system."
Ashlee chewed doubtfully on her lip ring. "I just keep thinking about, you know…that day? When I tried to come out to them?"
Mason narrowed her eyes. It was one of the weeks she stayed at their place—unbeknownst to their parents, so she was hiding in the basement with Charlie. Ashlee had insisted she wanted them there for support, but that her parents might feel more open-minded if it were strictly a family conversation.
The living room was directly above the closet they crouched in, so they heard all of it pretty clearly. Ashlee confessing that she was asexual, and her parents asking what the fuck that even meant.
"That's not even real, honey," Deb had said. "Don't you think you're just upset you haven't had a date in a while?"
"Maybe take that shit out of your face, and they'll be more interested," Everett had said. "Guys don't like girls with a bunch of piercings. It's not flattering."
"Shut up, Dad," came Tanner's heated reply. "She doesn't give a fuck if guys are interested or not. You're the only one looking unflattering around here, anyway."
It inevitably led to a shouting match, and ended with Ashlee retreating to the basement in tears. Mason and Charlie sat on either side of her for hours, holding her hands and offering what encouragement they could. Tanner joined them once he could get away from their parents, with an armful of food and one of Ashlee's favorite books. He read passages from it in over-the-top, angry whispers to get her to laugh.
"Yeah," Mason said. "I remember."
"Tan said that should've been it. We were eighteen—well, he was, and I was about to be. He said that should've been the day we left. But every time I thought about it, I felt guilty. Mom cried a lot looking at baby pictures. She said she never wanted us to grow up and leave."
Mason thought about Gina. How whenever Mason didn't want to do something she wanted her to, she questioned Mason's love for her. How whenever Mason cried, she used her own tears as combat. How Mason had bought into all of it, until the day the Misfits convinced her to leave.
"Yeah, but it's not fair of them to use that against you," she said. "Look, I spent a lot of time at your house, like, incognito, so I know how often they fought and how often they tried dragging you and Tan into it. That wasn't fair of them. It's not your job to fix their marriage or make them feel good about themselves or whatever. Maybe it's not my place to say this, but honestly, if they make you feel like crap, then you don't owe them anything. Just because we're all stuck in one place together doesn't mean you have to want them around."
Ashlee sighed. "Yeah. I know that's right. It's just…weird having them around, I guess. I got used to it being just us in that tiny apartment."
"Those were the good old days, huh?"
"Definitely."
Mason patted her knee, sensing she wanted to drop the subject. "That bowl cashed? C'mon. Let's spray ourselves down with Febreze and see if Monty and Dray are finished with that cobbler."
~m~
"Alright, sweetheart, let's start with some simple jumps and landings. Show me your jump squat."
Mason glared flatly. "…Really? I'm not some fucking greenie, you know."
Jesus' eyes widened in mock amazement.
"I know Krav Maga—"
"Ooh."
"—and I practice boxing—"
"Yeah?"
"Yes. I didn't come to you to learn shit I already know."
Jesus nodded very seriously. Then he said, "Jump squats. Ten reps."
Seething, Mason ran through the reps. Jesus smirked.
"Bit sloppy. You let me get under your skin."
"It's not my fault. You're so good at it."
His eyes sparkled. "Thank you. But you're gonna need to learn how to balance that if you want to do what I do. You need to be able to act smoothly, no matter what's shaking you up inside."
Mason frowned at her shoes. What he said made sense, and it pissed her off that she couldn't disagree.
"Now, since you've clearly mastered the jump squat," he continued, voice still thick with amusement, "let's move on to the broad jump. We'll start with a manageable distance for now, then work up from there."
Mason followed his instruction, which built slowly in intensity, using the forest around them as obstacles, until she was dripping with sweat. He was insufferable through all of it, taking every opportunity to tease and irritate her, but he was also knowledgeable and patient and she couldn't deny that.
When they stopped for the day, he leaned against a tree while she guzzled her water.
"You're a quick learner," he said. "But you're a lot clumsier than I was expecting."
She glowered and kept drinking.
"I guess my sister was kind of the same way. She was a dancer and a gymnast. Really talented. But outside of that she was a total klutz."
He eyed her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"Anyway, I think we'll spend one more day like this and then I'll take you into town."
Mason paused. "Already?"
"Hey, that's your idea. Unless you've got some other way to pay me for these lessons."
She didn't respond. It was true that it was her idea, paying him by aiding him on his recruiting and scavenging patrols. Until she talked with Ezekiel about this, she had no right to offer anything else but her own free time. And until she was positive Jesus really was trustworthy, she wasn't letting on about her group or anything they had. It wasn't like he was telling her more than the bare minimum anyway. They were both feeling each other out.
"So it's settled then," he said when she remained silent. "We'll just be there long enough to drag a few blocks, but it's the perfect place to advance your training."
The town he spoke of wasn't too far, but it also wasn't within the circle of her usual patrol. It made her nervous, agreeing to venture so far from home. What if something happened while she was gone?
But that could happen anytime, no matter how close she was. Something could be happening right now, as they spoke…
Anxiety prickled her neck. "Okay. I'll meet you here, same time tomorrow then."
"Sure. Later, sweetheart."
She watched him leave, and only took off at a jog once she was sure he was gone. She saw no walkers along the way, which unnerved her. Where the hell were they?
Relief broke over her as she approached the gate, saw Kelsey and Richard on watch, saw everything still intact.
But a sliver of unease lingered in her chest, and she didn't realize why until she joined everyone in the dining hall for dinner. It wasn't quite so lively as last night, playing truth or Jenga with the Misfits, but there was still an air of vibrancy that put her on edge.
It was only partly to do with her own hang-ups, whatever darkened her heart these days. It was just that…everyone seemed more relaxed than they had since she'd met them. She assumed the reason was that they hadn't encountered the Saviors since the blizzard, but did that really mean they were gone? It couldn't. It was dangerous to think that, just like with the walkers. She didn't want the group getting complacent.
But what if you're wrong? a little voice whispered. It's not like you're at your most civil these days.
No, she'd…she'd gotten better. She wasn't the way she was when she first encountered Ezekiel, certainly not how she was back in Georgia with—
Don't. You left. You don't have the right to think about her anymore.
She swallowed the pain and told herself it was better to be cautious than caught off guard. In this case, she would've loved to be wrong. But she wasn't about to throw vigilance out the window, even if it meant she couldn't truly enjoy an upbeat dinner with the group.
The next day was much the same. Instead of her previous solitary workouts, she led her combat students in drills until ten, when she broke for "patrol". She met Jesus in the same spot, and he started her on yesterday's reps before proceeding to more advanced moves.
Though she was able to keep up fairly well, he was still much better than her, and she couldn't help thinking of the person she was before…well, before so many things. Before Gina and the Stantons' fancy basement. Before realizing how much of an outlet running at night was, and also how sketchy that could be as a teenage girl. Before her lessons with Rita, and gaining confidence with each muscle she toned.
Gina used to call her bunny, because when she found her, after hitchhiking all the way from Kansas to L.A., Mason was pretty much the same girl she'd been back home. Shy and awkward and unwilling to risk friendships because friendship hurt. Anything remotely like closeness hurt. She never stood up for herself. Never spoke unless spoken to. She skittered away from anything that might intrude on her own private bubble.
She'd come a long way. But sometimes that girl still crawled up from the depths. Sometimes she screamed without a sound in dark corners, and Mason felt the ripple in who she was now.
The next day, Jesus drove her into the town. She kept her hand on her gun the whole ride there, trying to be unobtrusive about it. But Jesus noticed anyway. It plastered a smirk on his face the entire drive.
"Now, there's not a whole lot left here that we haven't scavenged already, but I keep coming back because sometimes people pass through, thinking they might find something," he explained, parking in front of a dusty post office.
Mason shook her head. "And you just…bring these strangers back to your people."
"Well, not if I think they're a threat. I get a feel for them first. See if they're…the bad guys." He stepped outside, but paused when he realized she hadn't moved. "What's up?"
"What…" But she stopped herself. She couldn't bring herself to ask the question. It made her feel vulnerable and stupid. "Never mind."
They patrolled the streets, on the off chance they found someone or something of valuable. Mostly, it was a ghost town, although Mason spotted some sci-fi books she thought Renee might appreciate and a new coat for Ava.
"That's a bit small for you, don't you think?" Jesus said when he saw it.
She bristled warily, but when she spoke her voice was cool. "I'll shrink into it."
As they moved, she kept her eyes open for signs an ambush may by lying in wait. But she saw no one, and after a while, this slipped from her mind. Jesus made frequent stops and gave her new workouts centered around whatever obstacles they came across—stair jumps, wall dips, dead hangs. Her muscles burned by the time Jesus called it a day, but it was a good feeling. It was like weakness singeing away. It was like forgetting.
"So," he said as they climbed into his truck. "Do you trust me yet?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Do you trust me?"
He smiled easily. "Yes."
"That easy, huh?"
"I've had a lot of practice."
"Sorry, but I'm not there yet."
"That's cool. Just thought I'd ask so we could do away with this pesky omission business."
She glared straight ahead out the windshield. "How about you ask me again at the end of the week."
"As you wish, sweetheart." He mimed a bow and pulled out of town.
~m~
By the end of the week, she already felt much stronger. More capable of facing things head-on. Physically, at least. Jesus added sparring to the rotation, and he kicked her ass in general, but she was getting better each day.
She brought this experience back home with her, slowly integrating it into the lessons she led. She went to bed exhausted each night, but feeling as though she had at least accomplished something. That she was contributing something good.
"Alright," Jesus said that seventh day. "Moment of truth."
Mason raised an eyebrow.
He spread his arms and asked, "Do you trust me?"
She caught herself before she could laugh and said wryly, "You sound like you're asking me out on a magic carpet ride or some dumbass Disney shit. How romantic."
"Ooh, you're quick to flatter yourself. Sorry, but you're not, um, my type."
"Ah. Hell yeah." She held her hand up for a high-five. He returned it, confused, so she explained, "I'm bi. Pretty much all my friends are queer as fuck. So it's nice to see the new world belongs to the gays."
He smiled slowly. "Your friends?" She had never mentioned her friends outright before, and the implication in his tone was not lost on her.
So she said, "Yes. Yes, I trust you."
It surprised her how confident she felt in her answer. As much as she and Jesus antagonized each other, she knew if she were in a real pinch, she could count on him to help her out, and that she would do the same for him.
"I mean, I totally hate your guts and wanna kick you half the time," she continued, grinning. "But, still."
His eyes twinkled. "Aw, sweetheart. I hate you, too."
"So now that we're past the omissions, I was wondering—"
Gunfire cut her off.
Adrenaline kicked through her so fast the trees spun. She turned toward the sound; they were deep in the forest, so it was hard to tell, but it seemed like it was coming from up the highway a piece.
She drew her gun and glanced at Jesus.
"Is that them?" By his tone, she knew he didn't mean her people.
"Probably."
He nodded, threw his hood up and tied his scarf around the lower part of his face, obscuring his features. "Lead the way."
She took off running, bounding through the trees with renewed energy. Her muscles no longer ached from the long day. Vitality flooded through them, enriched by all they'd learned they could do.
When the trees thinned, Mason spotted a large, dark van parked on the highway. Saviors crouched behind it on the side closest to her, aiming at a pileup of cars that had been moved to the side but not quite off the road. She glimpsed a few of her people behind it, Everett and Monty among them.
She paused to find a good, sheltering tree, then lined her sight.
She took down a man with a big semiautomatic first. As soon as his brains splattered against the van, the others whipped around. She ducked behind the trunk as the bullets flew.
Jesus was nowhere to be seen. At least until she looked up into a neighboring tree and spotted him crouched a few branches up. His stance was effortless, as though he'd been born in a fucking tree.
He gave her a cheeky wave. She flipped him off.
A pause in the gunfire. She peeked out to return a few shots, catching one man in the shoulder before she was forced back into hiding.
Jesus took his shot then, right through a Savior's leg. He crumpled and his buddies turned on Jesus, giving Mason a chance to return fire.
The back doors on the van flew open, and five other men jumped out. She managed to take one down as they charged toward her, but it quickly became apparent that she needed to switch gears to close combat.
Shoving her gun in its holster, she leaped for the nearest tree branch and gave a powerful swing as the men loomed. Bark cut painfully into her palms, but her grip didn't loosen. Not yet. Thrown by this new tactic, the Saviors practically walked right into it as she slammed forward.
She let go the moment her boots made contact with a Savior's chest. His body cushioned her fall. She rolled with the momentum, dodging another man as he kicked at her head.
In a second, she took in her options.
Jesus was still exchanging fire with the other Saviors. But if she could put enough distance between her and these fuckers to properly aim her gun…
She scrambled to her feet, hand at the holster, and the men gave chase. There wasn't a chance to pull her weapon, however, before someone hit her from the side. The force knocked her off her feet. Her shoulder bashed into one of the van's doors as she fell, spinning her enough that she landed on her ass instead of her face.
The man loomed like an angry bull, and for the first time she realized he wielded a tire thumper. He was too close for her to grab her gun or wrest her iron free of its sling.
But her eyes landed on a hubcap glinting next to her, debris from the car crash.
Time did not slow. Her reaction speed ramped up, matching pace with her thundering heart.
She snatched the hubcap and held it up in time to block the tire thumper from bashing her skull open.
A shocked gasp rushed out of her. The man stared, momentarily stunned, and she took the opportunity to kick him in the balls.
He stumbled back, dropping the tire thumper, and doubled over to puke. Mason lurched to her feet while he was distracted and swung the hubcap into his temple.
A new flurry of gunshots split the air. Something hot cut the side of her head and suddenly she was on the ground.
Through the ringing in her ears, she heard the van roar to life and speed away. Dazed, she sat up, and felt an uncomfortable warmth run down the side of her face.
"Mason!"
She turned in slow motion as Monty and Renee raced over. Richard and Everett strode toward the bodies on the ground, one of which was moaning.
"Mason!" Monty's hand clamped down over the wound. She winced.
Renee dug through her backpack and pulled out a roll of gauze. "Let me see."
Monty drew back, though he stayed close enough to scoop her hand into his.
"The hell do you think you're doing, getting your ass shot like that?" The anger in his voice wasn't terribly impressive, breathless as it was.
"Well, it…actually wasn't my ass that was shot. It was my head."
Renee snorted. "Same difference."
"How bad is it?" Monty asked.
"Just skimmed her. It should stop bleeding soon." Then she patted Mason's cheek and addressed her directly. "'Tis but a scratch."
"Ah." Mason smiled. "A flesh wound."
"Hey! Back the fuck up!"
Alarmed, she sat up. Her stomach sank when she spotted Everett holding Jesus at gunpoint at the edge of the road.
"Wait!" she called. "Don't shoot him."
"Excuse me?" Everett growled without looking at her. Richard glanced up from the surviving Savior he stood over, confused but less combative about it.
"He was helping us," she explained and groaned inwardly, realizing she was about to have a lot of explaining to do. "He's a friend."
~m~
Ezekiel was understanding about it. Eventually.
At first, he was furious, and Mason didn't blame him. Going off on her own when she said she was patrolling to meet a virtual stranger who could very well have been lying to her about his intentions. In retrospect, it felt even more brainless than she originally thought.
All of this was understandable, but it bewildered her a little when he said, "You could have disappeared and not one of us would have had the slightest clue as to your whereabouts. We could have lost you."
It made her feel a little panicky until she reasoned it out.
He means the lessons. I wouldn't be around to keep those up. I wouldn't be around to help defend the group. Yes, that made sense. And I could've been tortured for information. He doesn't know I wouldn't have said anything.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I know it was stupid. But…I just didn't want to involve anyone else because, if he was dangerous, I wanted that to be on me."
"Be that as it may, you are a part of my realm. Should any ill befall you, no matter your intention to rest blame solely on yourself, my shoulders would feel the weight of it as well."
She bowed her head. "Yes, your…your Majesty." It still felt weird to address him this way. Like a goofy line in a play.
It was quickly determined that Jesus was not dangerous, however, and that her assessment was "mercifully astute", as Ezekiel put it.
"What will be your relationship to this kingdom, friend Jesus?" he asked once he was done scolding Mason.
Almost everyone had gathered in the auditorium with them, minus those on watch or patrol. Jesus looked a little nervous at being so outnumbered, but Mason stood at his side in quiet assurance.
"Well, I'm hoping for friendship. That's always what I hope for when I meet people," Jesus replied. "But…maybe I'm off here, but you're at war with the Saviors, aren't you?"
Ezekiel dipped his head. "We are."
"That's a little unfortunate."
He went on to explain that his people had already pledged their service to Negan, and that any alliance to an open rebellion might bring hell down on them.
"There's some things we might be able to provide," Jesus continued. "But I'm sure my leader, Gregory, would insist on a more…clandestine approach. I haven't told him that I'm giving Mason fighting lessons. I'm not sure he would approve of that."
Mason raised an eyebrow. She hadn't considered he might be in the same boat as far as keeping secrets.
What they ended up with was a tentative alliance, under which anything exchanged would be handled with extreme care and consideration.
"I think we can still keep up our lessons, though, long as we're careful about it," Jesus said with a wink at Mason. "I'd hate to miss out on that charming personality of yours."
Which left an entirely different matter on their plate, one Jesus was excused from.
In one of the building's disused rooms, Everett stood guard over two Saviors. One was unconscious and unable to offer his identity. The other, the same who nearly killed Mason with a tire thumper, had sneered his name between curses and insults.
"We can't let this Kurt guy go back to the Saviors," Sam said. "Not now he's seen this place."
"Yes, I understand that," Ezekiel said gravely.
"So what are we waiting for?" Tanner demanded. "Let's kill them and be done with it."
"Honestly, he's right," Renee said. "We can't be wasting our medical supplies on them."
"Wait, but…" Mason fidgeted before carrying on. "Isn't this sort of the opportunity we've been hoping for? These guys would know where Negan is, how many men they have, how many outposts they have. We could…get that from them."
There was silence as the implication sunk in. Then Monty stepped forward.
"She's right," he said. "We've been groping around in the dark, hoping we'll just stumble across all the information we need. Now it's right here in front of us."
"Of course she's right," Rita spoke up impatiently. "She sees the trouble these men bring. They are rats, but they are rats with a purpose. We must squeeze what we can out of them." Her thin fingers clenched, as if she meant to do so with her own hands.
"But is that who we are?" Ezekiel asked. "Mistreating prisoners for our own gain? Is that what this kingdom shall become?"
Everett threw his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, hold on. I think we're missing a very important alternative here."
"And what is this alternative you speak of?"
"Pledging ourselves."
Uproar met his words, though Mason noticed a few who seemed to be considering them.
It took a moment of shouting for Everett to hold the floor again.
"Look, we've fought for too long against these guys and gotten nowhere," he said. "Who's to say it won't be better the other way? They're obviously capable. They've got people, guns. If we stop now, we could work with them, maybe forge an alliance. Be better off in the long run."
"But Dad…we wouldn't be working with them, we'd be working for them," Ashlee spoke up, twirling her hair nervously.
"Yeah, we're not kneeling for these assholes," Tanner agreed. Others added their ascent, and Everett fell silent with a scowl.
The meeting went on for hours and concluded at an impasse. The prisoners would be kept another day, until their fate could be determined.
"Mason," Ezekiel called as everyone exited the auditorium. "I would ask you to remain a moment."
She waited nervously while the others filed out, until it was just her and Ezekiel standing on stage.
Well, and Shiva. She was sprawled on her back, paws in the air, the way her old cat, Kumquat, used to lie when he found a good patch of sun.
"The beast has my envy," Ezekiel said, following her gaze. "To be great and intimidating enough to laze around, sunrise to sunset, menacing all who pass with a toothy yawn."
"Oh, that's goals, huh? That's why you're doing this king business?" Mason teased.
He chuckled. "Alas, Lady Mason, your intuition unveils me. I grant…it is this intuition I seek counsel from. If you would indulge me."
"Uh…yeah. Sure."
He sat on the edge of the stage, so she sat next to him.
"It is your belief that interrogation of this…man would be advantageous to our cause." He looked at her for confirmation.
"I… Yes. I do."
He sighed. "Many would seem to agree with you, and I do see the rationale behind this. It is not that I am blind to it. But, if I may make a confession, I am not certain I have the stomach for such acts."
Mason frowned at the floor. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because we all have suffered. And while I do not wish to claim anyone's suffering more or less severe than another's, there are…differences. Between my people's experiences and yours, that I believe hold some significance. You were out there longer. You were out there alone, or at least without companions who could support you. This group remained large enough on their pilgrimage to deter the depravity of man, but I have heard you were misfortunate enough to encounter a number of villainies and vileness. I do not wish you to have braved this at all, but I sense wisdom has emerged from the experience."
She almost asked what his story was. The group was so close-knit it was easy to forget he wasn't with them for most of their journey.
"I mean…I guess you could call it wisdom." She chose her next words carefully. "I'm not sure…there's a right answer to this. I think, if you want to live in this new world, whatever you believe to be right is held up by a bunch of other compromises. It's not black and white. I don't think it ever was. There…are very few lines I won't cross to protect my loved ones. Things I never dreamed I'd have the stomach for. Things maybe you don't…get to come back from."
She looked at Ezekiel. So kind and hopeful and good. She wanted to protect that, too. The world couldn't lose that.
"But those compromises are my compromises," she said. "They don't have to be yours. We all know you will do whatever you think is right to protect us, but you also need to think of yourself. You're the only one who knows what you can live with without losing who you are. If you think we shouldn't interrogate this guy, we can find another way."
He stared silently into the distance for a long time. Then he nodded. "Thank you for your counsel, my Lady. You may take your leave. And please send Jerry in to see me."
"Yes, your Majesty."
~m~
Ezekiel called a meeting early the next morning, having decided that they would indeed interrogate the Saviors. The general consensus was approval, though no one was jumping for joy, either. There were quite a few who volunteered for the job, Mason among them.
When it came time for Ezekiel to pick, his eyes met hers, and something passed between them before he announced that she would be the one to do it.
Ice shivered in her belly, but she simply nodded.
He pulled her aside after the meeting to ask if she was sure, insisting he could find someone else for the job.
But it had to be her. It couldn't be anyone else. Besides, she'd been the one to suggest it in the first place.
She was led to the room where the men were held. Kelsey and Scott stood guard outside.
Scott touched her shoulder as she reached for the door. "Do you need us to come in with you?"
But his voice was soft and so much like his son's, and she couldn't imagine allowing him to be privy to something like this. She shook her head.
The room was small and dim, lit by a solitary bulb. The man whose name they were unsure of slouched in one corner, bandages stemming the bullet wound in his leg. Kurt glared up from the opposite wall, hands zip tied behind his back.
"Oh, look," he said. "It's the gladiator."
She blinked. "That's actually pretty dope."
"You're wasting your time. Stupid bitch."
"I don't know. Any time spent with such a sparkling personality couldn't possibly be wasted."
He eyed her a moment before smirking humorlessly. "Shame you don't consider switching sides. Boss would get a kick out of you."
Her spine went rigid, but she bit back what she wanted to say.
He's fucking with you. Don't let him.
Out of nowhere, she found herself thinking of Gina. Of how she might handle this situation. When she spoke, her voice was glittering and smooth.
"That's actually who I'd like to talk about. Your boss. Negan, right?"
Kurt snorted. "Fuck off."
Mason punched him, making her knuckles sing. She didn't think before she did it. She couldn't think after. Her head filled with a strange ringing.
The man in the corner blinked, still looking dazed. Kurt barked a laugh.
"That all you got, you dumb cunt?"
"I don't think you wanna ask me that. Tell me about Negan. Where is he?"
"I'm not telling you shit."
She punched him again, twice this time. His nose crunched. Blood ran down his lips.
The ringing grew louder.
She crouched before him, her body light in a way she'd never experienced before. It wasn't a nice feeling. It was more like she'd been detached from gravity and left adrift.
Something filled her chest, a balloon about to burst.
In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was going about this the right way. Was there a right way to beat information out of somebody?
The balloon got bigger. Unbearable pressure against her sternum.
She stared him down. "Where's Negan?"
He spit in her face. "Go to hell, bitch."
The balloon burst.
She slammed her forehead into his already-broken nose, hard enough that his head cracked against the wall.
Something cold put her body on autopilot. Fog covered her mind.
~m~
She wasn't quite herself when she stepped out of that room. Her hands shook. Her knuckles bloody and raw.
Someone gripped her shoulders. Scott.
"Mason. Honey, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Her voice came out strong. A ventriloquist's voice. "I couldn't get anything out of them. Not yet. I'll try again tomorrow."
She slipped past him and Kelsey before they could ask any more questions.
Mechanically, she made her way to the auditorium. Others watched her pass. They just wanted to know if she'd found anything out, she told herself. It wasn't because they saw her differently now. It wasn't because they were afraid.
She must have reported to Ezekiel, but she couldn't remember it. She couldn't remember making her way back to the house, or washing the blood from her hands. She blinked and she was sitting on the edge of the tub, staring at the wall.
A knock on the door, though she didn't know why. It was wide open.
"Mason?" Dave approached hesitantly. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." That voice again. Empty. Not her own.
He sat next to her. Took her hands in his to examine them.
"You didn't wrap them," he said.
"I didn't know I had to. I've never done something like that before."
"I know you haven't." He eyed her gently. "You don't have to ever again if you don't want to."
"Yes, I do. I didn't get anything from them today."
"That's not what I mean and you know it."
Before they could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening announced the rest of the Misfits. Ava came running in a moment later.
"Macie!"
Mason caught her automatically and scooped her into her lap. She was more conscious of everything she did, holding her with exaggerated care. It felt like that night in Texas after killing those men, her very first kills.
Like her existence might pull the world down.
But Ava hugged her as if none of this mattered. As if she were still just Mason and nothing had changed.
Blinking back tears, Mason rested her cheek on Ava's head. "I love you so big, baby girl."
Ava squeezed her tighter. "I love you so big, Macie!"
Dave watched them, eyes welling with sadness. But he didn't say anything else, simply linked fingers with Mason.
The other Misfits didn't take long to find them. None of them said a word as they gathered around her and instead lent comfort through proximity. Ava seemed perfectly content snuggled against her chest. The cold inside slunk away to some dark corner within her.
It was very warm in their arms.
~m~
Someone shouting her name jarred her from sleep. She lurched up in bed, heart stuttering.
"Wha—what's going on?"
Ezekiel had insisted she take the day off after yesterday, so she'd slept in. She wasn't sure what time it was, but daylight slanted in through the window in a way that made her think it was late, maybe almost noon.
Renee stood in the doorway, eyes wild with fear. Blood trickled down the side of her face.
"Kurt got a hold of Ava. He's fucking got Ava."
Everything in her felt paralyzed, but she was on her feet before her brain fully processed the movement. She snatched her gun and her iron on the way out the door.
Commotion near the gate led her forward. She pushed through the crowd, wondering why the hell they were just standing there, doing nothing, until she spotted Kurt.
One arm gripped Ava tightly to his chest. His free hand held a jagged shard of glass to her neck.
His good eye, the one Mason hadn't thoroughly blackened, darted to her as she broke through the crowd. He pressed the tip of the glass harder against Ava's throat.
"Don't even think about it." She barely heard him over Ava's wail, the thumping of blood in her own ears.
She skidded to a halt, every nerve buzzing with panic and fury. She was close enough to see blood on Ava's skin, staining the collar of her shirt.
Her knuckles went pale around the gun. Could she take the shot? Could she risk it with Ava that close, with the glass against her neck? She didn't like the odds of it.
"Let the child go, Kurt." Ezekiel's voice came from somewhere beside her. "You may leave in peace, but no harm may come to the child."
"Peace?" Kurt snorted and nodded at Mason. "Look at what that bitch did to me. You won't really let me go. You can't now, can you? Only way out of here is with a souvenir. Now open the gate. I won't ask again."
"Take me then." It was Mason's voice, but it emerged from a part of her she didn't recognize.
"Mason," Ezekiel hissed, but she ignored him.
"You want someone, take me. I did that to you. You can have your revenge."
Kurt's eyes glittered. "What do you think I'm doing with this one here?" He bounced Ava in his grip, turned to sneer at her.
Ava twisted and sank her teeth into his nose.
He screamed and dropped her, and she lay on the ground for a moment, dazed and sobbing.
Mason darted forward, scooping her away from Kurt and handing her to Charlie. Every movement felt like a lick of flames, everything she saw was red.
She lunged for Kurt, sweeping his legs from under him the way Jesus had taught her. His tailbone cracked on the cement. She was on him before he could recover.
Her fist came down hard on his face. Once. Twice. Again. Her knees squeezed around his torso, holding him place. After the first few blows, his squirming lessened and then stilled completely.
Knuckles burned. Pain and blistering red, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not until someone's arms ensconced her and yanked her away.
She thrashed. "Let me go!"
"Princess, enough. He's…he's dead, I think."
Tanner was bigger than her. Muscular. But with all the training she'd been doing, she was pretty sure she could break free.
"My Lady, please." Ezekiel stepped into view, his voice low and urgent. "You have delivered your justice. You must cease this now."
"Yeah, come on, not in front of Ava," Tanner grunted in her ear.
"Ava." The name breezed out of her, wild and breathless. Only when she spotted her, clinging to Charlie, did the fight leave her body.
Tanner let go cautiously and she stumbled forward, hands outstretched, desperate to make sure Ava was alright.
When Ava saw her, she cringed against Charlie's shoulder.
Mason froze, suddenly dizzy. "Baby girl? It's…it's just me."
For the first time, she realized how much blood was on her hands, splattered up her arms. Ava had witnessed the whole thing.
Her throat felt thick. The world wavered as her eyes filled with tears.
"Please. It's me. It's Macie."
Ava whimpered. Charlie brushed a hand through her hair.
Renee grabbed Mason's hand. "C'mon," she murmured. "She just needs a little space."
Mason turned, but she wasn't sure how. Her legs felt numb. Everyone watched her, but she tried not to read their expressions.
"How did this happen?" Ezekiel's voice rose, steady and clear, over the sickening thrum in her ears. "Everett, you were standing guard."
Her head snapped up. Everett stood at the edge of the group, holding the back of his head.
"Fucker got the jump on me," he said. "Wouldn't stop pounding on the door, so I went in to shut him up, but he was waiting. Slammed my head against the wall."
Mason twitched her hand out of Renee's and strode toward him. "How? They were zip tied."
He eyed her disdainfully. "I don't know. Broke out of 'em somehow."
Rage trembled all the way down to her fingertips, but she reined herself in. She remembered Jesus telling her she had to get a grip on all the things rattling her. She remembered Gina and her cool, smiling demeanor.
She turned and spied the other Savior crouched near Kurt, quivering fearfully. She hadn't noticed him before, maddened as she was.
Her gaze flicked to Ezekiel. There was grim understanding in his, and she thought maybe he knew what she was going to say before she said it.
"We can't keep him here."
Nobody had to ask what she meant by that.
"You are right," Ezekiel said darkly. "We cannot."
Mason went to pick up her weapons, abandoned in her blind rush to rescue Ava. The Savior's low whimpers built to a shout.
"Wait—wait, stop! You don't have to. You don't have to do this, please! I—I won't hurt anybody, I won't!"
She loomed over him and he cowered, sobbing.
"No, no, I didn't do nothing, it was his idea! I just tagged along, please, you gotta believe me!"
Mason raised her iron. The man pissed himself.
"I'll—I'll tell you anything! I'll tell you anything you want to know! But I don't wanna die, please, please, don't kill me."
She hesitated. "Do you know where Negan is?"
Desperation lit his eyes. "Yes! Yes, I do! I know where he is, and I—I know where his outposts are. I can draw a map!"
Mason glanced at Ezekiel. He nodded.
She grabbed the man's arm and hauled him up. "On your feet."
~m~
There were five outposts that the Savior, Adam, knew of.
"They're not all inhabited at once, though," he explained. "We switch it around to fool people, trap them sometimes. At most, two of them could have about ten to fifteen men."
Negan lived at what they called the Sanctuary, a rambling defunct factory nearly ten miles east.
"There's usually about seventy men there at any given time. They've got guns and supplies for days. They could bury you in firepower, but they won't unless they have to. You guys haven't attacked them or posed a significant threat, at this point you're just the stray alley cat they haven't been able to cage."
When Adam had given them all the information he could, one of Everett's friends, Wes, took him back to the closet where they'd been keeping him. A woman named Paula and her brother, James, followed. Mason watched them go through narrowed eyes.
"It is not a permanent arrangement," Ezekiel assured her. "The guard on him will remain doubled regardless."
"So what's the plan?" Renee said, brushing her hand over the coordinates Adam had drawn on a map.
"We cannot hope to vanquish them in a rudimental attack. They eclipse us by at least sixty souls."
"Plus all the guns he mentioned," Bea added. Unconsciously, she reached behind her for Sam's hand.
"We can't fight them at all," Everett said. "It's fucking nuts we're even considering it."
Some of the others murmured their agreement.
"Does no one remember a few months ago? We're lucky they didn't slaughter us!"
"We don't stand a chance!"
"We should surrender before this gets any worse."
"No." Tanner stepped forward. "That's bullshit. These assholes don't have any right to us or our shit."
"What kind of existence would we even be looking at if we did surrender?" Charlie added. "Not a great one, I'm betting."
Deb whirled on her. "And so it would be better to let them all gun us down?"
Mason tensed, ready to intervene.
But Ezekiel held his hands out to curtail the brewing argument.
"Dear friends, I hear your concerns. It appears as though these villains hold all the power." He paused, and his eyes glittered. "But I believe that it only appears this way. Hope casts a radiant shield for the valiant and the just. There will come a solution out of this mire of tribulations, I am sure of it. I believe in the strength of our unified ideal, that dream of a better world. We will not simply seek that world, we will build it for ourselves. We have that power. I believe."
It was a pretty speech. It seemed to move the rest of them. But the words couldn't touch Mason. She kept her eyes resolutely on the map, trying to figure out a way.
If they could somehow get them to use up all their ammo…
"Jerry, Monty, Sam, Mason, I wish to speak with you four privately. The rest of you, I bid return to your everyday routines and preparations. Indeed, even in the dark, life carries on."
Mason jolted hearing her name called, but tried to suppress the instinct to shrink self-consciously.
Ezekiel continued the discussion in a graver tone, asking each of them how they thought things should proceed, if maybe more consideration should be given to Everett's point of view.
Mason listened with growing nerves as first Jerry, then Monty, then Sam answered. It encouraged her that none of them agreed with Everett and had their own well-thought out answers as to why.
When Ezekiel turned to her, she gripped her wrist to keep from fidgeting. She was suddenly starkly aware that she was the youngest of the five of them.
"So many things have already been taken from us, but we've come so far in spite of that," she said. "We may keep our lives if we surrender, but we wouldn't keep much else. We would never be free. We would never be who we are now. And not just us, but future generations. I don't want Ava growing up just to devote her life to these assholes, to live in fear that it's not enough, to never live for herself. That's not what I brought her here for."
They listened to her the same way they listened to each other. She tried not to seem surprised by this. Once it was clear they were all in agreement, they discussed what moves might be made against the Saviors now they were better informed. Mason mentioned her idea about the ammo, but no one was quite sure how to get the Saviors to waste it in the first place. A few more ideas were tossed out, but none decided on. Ezekiel assured them they would figure something out, but they all left the meeting unsatisfied.
Mason stepped outside in a daze. Everything was strange. Renee had wrapped the wounds on her knuckles, left from Kurt's teeth and bones. Ezekiel had asked her opinion on this whole mess like it was something vital. The Misfits were at the house, probably comforting Ava, and she wasn't. Absently, she made a trail around the neighborhood.
Something pulled her to a halt. Hushed voices. Crying. She crept around an outbuilding to spy who it was.
"…you ever speak to me that way again, you shit. That brute's gonna get us killed, her and Ezekiel both."
Everett loomed over Tanner, who cowered on the ground, clutching his stomach. Red marks tinged his left cheek. Deb stood a little ways off with Ashlee in a firm grip, one hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her cries.
Everett raised his hand again.
Mason arrowed forward before she could fully process the scene. He didn't see her coming until she barreled into him. Head up, body low. Exact way Tanner showed her when he taught her how to play football.
Except she was a lot stronger now.
Her shoulder drove hard into his hip, her arms tangling around his legs. Though he was larger than her, she knocked him off his feet.
They rolled across the ground, struggling and snarling like angry dogs, until Mason finally managed to pin him with her hands around his throat.
That balloon was in her chest again, cracking her rib cage. She squeezed until Everett's eyes bulged with terror. Deb screamed, clutched at her shoulders. But Mason didn't consider letting go until she heard Ashlee begging.
"Mason, don't! You can't!"
"Mason!"
Ezekiel's voice cut through the chaos. Mason held on a second longer before jumping back, fingers trembling. It felt like there was lightning in her veins, fighting to break out. It felt like she had no place to put all this violence.
"What is this?" Ezekiel thundered.
But Mason held Everett's gaze and said, "You ever lay hands on him again, you ever lay hands on Ashlee, I will kill you, do you understand?"
He just laid there, eyes glittering with hate.
"Is this true?" Ezekiel said. Quieter now, but something new simmered below the surface. He stepped up to flank Mason. "Answer me now, Everett."
Everett said nothing, jaw clenched like this was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
Mason wanted to kill him then and there.
Ezekiel looked at her, then back at Tanner, Ashlee and Deb. "I cannot allow this kind of grievance in my kingdom. I will not allow it."
"You can't kill him, he—he didn't mean it," Deb pleaded. "He's never done anything like that before. He's just so—so stressed right now. It was the heat of the moment, he—"
"I do not care for your excuses, nor will I entertain them. No true man puts hands to his loved ones." Mason had never seen such loathing on Ezekiel's face before. "He shall be separated from the three of you for the time being, while I weigh what should be done with him."
He pulled his scepter sword from its sheath and aimed it at Everett.
"Get up."
He didn't move at first.
"Or I can have you executed where you lie," Ezekiel said. "If you prefer."
Lips twitching insolently, Everett climbed to his feet.
"Mason, retrieve whatever weapons he may have."
She did so, taking his gun and his knife. Then, because she could no longer resist the instinct, she knelt by Tanner. Ashlee crouched on his other side, arms hovering in case he needed the support.
Ezekiel's eyes softened. "Stay with your friends, my Lady," he said. "I shall deal with this one."
Mason dipped her head. "Thank you."
Deb hesitated as he led Everett away, throwing her kids a beseeching look. Neither of them acknowledged her.
Mason glared. "You think maybe you wanna get the hell out of here now?"
Resentment sparked in Deb's eyes, but she left without argument. Mason turned back to Tanner.
"Hey. Let's get you to Renee, okay?"
He shook his head, screwing up his eyes. Tears trailed out.
"He never hit me before, man. I didn't think… He just fucking…"
Ashlee sobbed quietly and hugged him as tightly as she could without hurting him. Mason pressed her forehead to his, blinking back her own tears.
"I won't let him hurt either of you again, and neither will Ezekiel. Okay?"
She pulled the two of them into her embrace.
~m~
Everett was banished at sunset, told that if he ever showed his face around here again that he would be swiftly dealt with.
Mason hoped she would have the pleasure.
Deb wailed as Monty and Richard escorted him roughly out of the gate. No one tried to comfort her.
The rest of the Misfits tried to keep Tanner and Ashlee away, but they insisted they needed to be there. Charlie held Ashlee's hand and Dave looped his arm through Tanner's and they all pressed in close to lend what solace they could.
Afterward, Ezekiel sought Mason out to let her know that Adam would be executed at dawn.
"Not tonight?" she asked.
"No. While I think it inappropriate to carry out the act here, where all may see, it would not be wise for any of our number to take him beyond the wall at this hour. He is injured, and well-guarded, and wholly terrified of you. He will pose no threat to us this night."
Shame flushed through her. "I'm sorry. About Kurt. I know I shouldn't have done that in front of everyone."
"Tensions run high as of late. In any case, I do not condemn you for the act. He was a vile man, and it is no sorrow when vile men meet vile ends." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "But I do hope I can rely on you to practice restraint if need be. Violence may lend itself to survival, but it must be channeled carefully, lest it break loose and set the world ablaze."
Mason nodded, then assured him she would put Adam to death. Ezekiel didn't ask her to do it, but she volunteered anyway. With as much blood as was already on her hands, she didn't see any reason not to.
When she returned home, Ava was already asleep. Mason didn't want to wake her, and she wasn't sure if she'd welcome her company anyway, so she laid down in the living room with the Misfits.
Tanner and Ashlee were already asleep, surrounded by the others. Mason stayed until the rest of them drifted off, then headed to the gym. She wasn't going to relax properly until this execution business was done.
She worked out for hours in a haze, until even the burn in her muscles and the sting in her wounds felt like numbness. Ezekiel's words echoed in her head. Jesus', too. But whatever had awakened inside her felt like a permanent beast, worrying her bones in its teeth. She wasn't sure how she could balance the new, frightening weight of it. She wasn't sure what cage could hold this violence.
Around three, she stumbled exhaustedly into a closet where basketballs and other equipment were kept. She slouched in the dark, tiny space and slept restlessly.
She rose a few hours later, groggy and unsatisfied. Her body ached as she crawled out of the closet. Sunlight radiated through the windows, tingeing the gym orange and gold.
Monty and Ezekiel waited for her at the gate, Adam propped between them. He was blindfolded, zip tied and whimpering. Mason felt like a stranger as she grabbed his arm from Ezekiel.
"You need not take him far," Ezekiel said. "I want you both returned as soon as possible."
"Of course, your Majesty," Monty replied.
Kelsey and a woman named Patricia opened the gate and then it was just her and Monty, trying to tune out Adam's incessant begging.
They walked for about ten minutes before it grated on Mason's last nerve. She stopped and pressed her gun to the back of Adam's head and he all but shrieked. Monty looked concerned but didn't try to stop her.
"Unless you want me to do it now, stop whining. If you didn't want us to kill you, maybe you shouldn't have done things that made us want to kill you."
He fell silent apart from the snuffle of his crying. They moved on.
"Mason," Monty said after a while. "Why are you doing this?"
She glanced at him, confused. "Because this dude needs to be executed, like, yesterday."
"No, why are you doing this? Why are you fighting so hard to be the one to do these things?"
Ice sighed through her veins, somehow gentle in its domination. "Because I have to be," she answered.
"No, you don't. That's bullshit. There were plenty of others who could've done this or interrogated Kurt."
"Look, I'm protecting you people from doing this shit, what the fuck else do you want from me?"
"Oh, protecting us. Because you're the only person who can do that, right?"
"No, I don't think…" But how could she put into words how she felt? That if she was already broken, already fucked beyond all repair, why shouldn't it be her that did all the horrible shit? Why should she let any one of them feel this way when it could just belong to her?
"Mason, stop."
Reluctantly, she did. Adam sagged in her grip but made no move to escape.
Monty eyed her steadily. Each word held its own individual weight.
"You don't have to do this alone. You aren't alone."
They were just words. They were just words. She opened her mouth to tell him this and a whimper came out. There was a truth inside her she wanted to deny and no longer could.
She wanted to be held through all the scary shit. Not just held, but to let herself feel held. To allow that for herself. She was tired of feeling solitude where there should have been comfort, tired of feeling cold where there should've been warmth. But she was so lost, she didn't know where to start.
"Monty—"
Gunfire cut her off. She ducked instinctively, felt heat whisk past her skin.
Monty crumpled, blood leaking from his skull.
Mason screamed and darted for him, careless with panic. Nonono this wasn't happening he was okay he was okay he would be okay.
But he didn't move when she touched him. He wouldn't breathe. Her hands fluttered uselessly while her vision blurred.
"Hands up, Mason."
She whirled, mouth twisting in a snarl when her eyes landed on Everett. Triumph lit his expression as he crept toward her, gun in hand. Part of her wondered where the fuck he'd gotten a gun. Most of her brimmed with too much bloodlust to give it a second thought.
"I'll fucking kill you, I'll fucking kill you!"
She lunged. Everett fired and sent her back down with a winged shoulder.
"It's actually mind-blowing how stupid you are," he said.
Kill him, she had to kill him, she had to find a way. Her whole body quaked, her breath coming in heavy pants. Monty still did not move, but he couldn't be dead, she refused to believe it…
"Now you are going to make this easy on yourself, or you are going to make it painful. Which is it gonna be?"
She reached for her gun, grunting at the pain radiating from her shoulder. A fresh gush of blood ran down from the bullet hole.
He grinned, like he'd been hoping for this.
Then he whistled, two notes that had her blood freezing.
Another whistle answered him, and another. Another.
Two Saviors stepped out from behind trees to flank him, then two more, each one echoing each other's whistle until she was surrounded.
Her pulse roared with vengeance. She trembled with it.
No way out but through each and every one of them.
"I choose painful," she growled.
Everett shook his head. "Stupid."
"I didn't mean painful for me."
Her gun whipped out, but she never got the chance to fire. Something struck the back of her head and took the world away.
A/N: So as you can probably figure, things are about to take a darker turn in the next one. I hope it's not too much, but then again, it is the Saviors and they suck. I'm sorry things have been so heavy lately, I promise to make up for it soon! But for now, thank you so much for reading and until next time, much love xoxo