The gang's new spot on Clemens Point was starting to grow on you. Strategically located amidst the rolling hills, pastures, and ponds of Scarlett Meadows, nestled behind a forest, it allowed the gang much-needed privacy, security, and, more importantly, an advantage over any potential breach from bandits, law enforcers, and other dangers. The lake across Flat Iron Lake slightly cooled the air, making the hot and humid southern climate a bit more bearable.
Being able to feel the sun's warmth on your face again and hear the lake water lapping against the shore did help you gain some sense of normalcy back in your life. Of course, there were the occasional nightmares still, and feelings of regret and self-hatred, knowing that you came face-to-face with your father's killer, and you couldn't do anything except lie there, tied to the bed, trying your hardest not to fall apart and start begging for your life. It was pathetic, and you were angry at yourself for it.
On the day of your return, Dutch, Hosea, and the rest of the crew celebrated, relieved that their 'doctor' was alive and back in one piece. Hosea hugged you tightly at the sight of you, and you swore the old man's eyes got a little teary. He sent you out for errands the day you got taken, and his guilt had been keeping him up late at night, which didn't do any good for his coughing. You made a mental note to check on him as soon as possible.
That night, there was singing, booze, and merriment, which Dutch had ceremoniously opened with one of his speeches about sticking together, family, and loyalty. He thanked Arthur, Javier, John, and Kieran for your safe return and confidently reassured everyone that things were looking up for the Van der Linde crew once more.
While relieved to be back home surrounded by the people you've grown to know and love and trust with your life, you could not help your mind from drifting off – from Colm, that dreadful cabin, to that night of Javier's revelation about the two of you, to John Marston and your little detour in Rhodes earlier that day.
John Marston was seated across you, between Uncle and Karen. Somewhere in between the fleeting glances, your eyes met. He gave you one inconspicuous wink before taking a swig from his beer. You responded with a faint smile and then looked away before anyone could notice. Your mind was in disarray as the singing and drinking around you continued.
'I think it's for the best.' You told John.
John listened, his brows furrowed as he watched you stand and pick up your clothes, efficiently putting them back on one by one as you continued your conversation. He couldn't entirely understand why you have to keep your relationship discreet and the fact that you had to suggest it in the first place. He sat up and managed to get a hold of his pants, and started dressing himself up.
You sat next to him, sensing that isn't a hundred per cent on board with what you were proposing.
'John, I like you. A lot! I've been bottling up my feelings for you for the longest time. You know that now.'
'You just made me the happiest girl… when you told me you liked me back too.' He smiled, flattered and content at your words.
'But Abigail…'
'But Abigail, what?' he intervened, his brows furrowed again.
'And Jack.'
'Jack.' he repeated pensively.
'It doesn't feel right to. It - it's not fair to the kid. He looks up to you, you know.' You said it as a matter-of-factly.
John rubbed his chin as he gave your words some serious thought. He paused and finally came to terms with it, then proceeded to finish putting on his clothes. He realised he also didn't want to push you into something you weren't comfortable with.
'Okay.' John finally said, his tone understanding, planting a soft kiss on your lips. He looked at you one more time and smiled before opening the door behind him. You left the room together, his hand holding yours.
The party died down a little past midnight, and people started to disperse. You bid everyone good night and started making your way to your tent. John stayed by the campfire with Bill, Karen, Uncle, and Kieran. You could feel his eyes following you, and you started to feel the butterflies in your stomach again.
You let out a sigh of relief as you finally reached your cot, closing the flaps behind you. You reminded yourself to thank Ms Grimshaw for having your tent set up for you earlier that day.
That same night, Javier Escuella was also not quite in the merrymaking mood. Unlike his usual safe, he preferred to stay some good distance from the party, strumming his guitar in solitude. He really didn't want to be there, watch you and John send each other secret signals the whole night, and pretend to have no care in the world. Nope. He'll have none of that tonight.
La vida sueño el por venir, mentira,
la amistar y el amor mentiras son
Y mentiras son también las ilusiones
que se foria delirante el corazón
Es mentira el amor de las mujeres.
He sang softly, the lyrics slurring from the bourbon whiskey he had been drinking. His fuddled mind cleared slightly for a second, and his singing interrupted as he saw you get inside your tent, which coincidentally was in his view.
The whole camp had gone quieter and darker now as the last few embers of the bonfire died. The remaining partygoers had retreated to their tents. The others, however, decided to pass out in their current spot, too intoxicated to move.
John Marston, on the other hand, looked like he had other plans for his sleeping arrangements. Javier thought as he saw John make his way over to your tent just shortly after you came in.
Javier narrowed his eyes as he watched John disappear inside. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He sat there for what seemed to be an eternity. After the last few drags, he stubbed and flicked the butt nonchalantly before finally standing up.
He picked up his guitar then continued:
Y mentira su belleza, su desdén
y mentira el "Te adoro" que pronuncian,
Y sus besos mentiras son también
Son mentiras los dulces juramentos
que pronuncian sus labios de carmín
Son palabras que al nacer las lleva el viento
los prados a los bosques del confín
The sound of his voice faded as he disappeared into the night.