Just a reminder of what I said in my first author's note from Part I (I have since added it to my note in the prologue for this story and do apologize for forgetting): I am doing a mix of canon and AU (alternate universe) for this story series, so I'm not following canon 100% for Edge of Tomorrow or Safe. Thus, to answer the question, Rita and Travis are just friends in this story, as mentioned in chapter 24 of Part I (same goes for the other men on the team). That is one of the changes I have made to canon in my story, just like my delving a bit more into Farell's character (I'm excited that you're excited about that!) and the fact that Annie is not Luke's wife in Safe are other changes I've made, to name a few. I hate to disappoint, but I'm really enjoying writing about their friendship(s) because I don't often write about men and women just being friends and connecting on that level. Thank you for understanding, and I'm sorry again.
As for the past chapters, this is the last one to fill in blanks before the shift starts turning more and more to Rita and Luke (but there are some cutesy Rita and Lance scenes in here). There is a bit more focus on Luke in the next past chapter since it's about what happened to him before he got to the farm with Lance and Rita (and because his POV is missing entirely in the present chapters), but once he's there, it is most definitely mainly about Luke and Rita moving forward (and frig, I'm excited for you all to read it...their love story is my absolute favorite to write about). Thank you for your patience! I figured with the present chapters being all Rita focused, it would give a Rita fix to make up for her absence in the last couple of past chapters :D
Thank you for your continued support! I've got an emotional few months ahead of me, but I will try to update as often as I can.
1987
Montana, U.S.
"Steady," Lance said, standing behind Simon as he aimed at the targets. He'd slowly introduced target practice to the boy after their fishing trip a year ago, and he did his best to ignore the red flags in his mind about how much Simon enjoyed shooting things. What boy didn't?
"Yes!" Simon exclaimed, pumping his fist after shooting another bottle. He was only using a .22, though.
"Nice shot," Lance said, nodding and smiling when Simon looked to him for approval. It was the only activity they did that made Simon talk to him at all. The boy reloaded, and Lance turned to see Rita running pell-mell towards him, hair flying. He chuckled at her haste. He braced himself for when she launched into him.
"Oof," he said, laughing at her attempt to knock him over. "What's going on, luv?"
"Can I try?" she asked.
"Oh, no," he answered. "You're not ready for this yet."
"Yea, Rita," Simon said. "You have to at least be 11 like I was."
"He's right," Lance agreed. "No guns until 11."
"Awww."
"What's Mum up to?" he asked, smoothing Rita's hair as she stood leaning against his waist. She seemed a bit better lately, he'd noticed. He wondered if whatever had been going on had finally stopped. He'd been watching Simon closely off and on for a while now, but he wasn't picking up on anything there.
"She's making cookies," Rita answered.
"And you're not there trying to lick the batter?" he asked, surprised.
"She made me leave," Rita told him, looking up at him with an impish expression. "But not before I got a bunch."
"I see," he said, laughing. "Rascal."
They watched Simon shoot the rest of the bottles, and then it was time to clean up. Lance piggy backed Rita to the house, and he saw Lucy Fields was there. Simon went to his room while Lance set Rita down on the couch. She picked up her book and went out on the porch while Lance went over to Carol and Lucy in the kitchen. Carol was putting freshly baked cookies into a tin.
"What's going on?" he asked, noticing Lucy looking a bit distraught.
"My daughter is five months pregnant," Lucy answered, fidgeting with her fingers and meeting his eyes.
"Oh," Lance said, surprised. Barbara was young, and he tried to think of something to say that didn't make him sound judgmental. He felt a little worried about the girl, though.
"I didn't know until yesterday," Lucy went on. "Her boyfriend is a drug addict. She's clean right now, but I know she's only doing it for the baby."
"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say.
"She's 17," Lucy said angrily. "I taught her to be smart. I'm trying so hard to, but I don't understand!"
"We all make mistakes," Carol said slowly. "It's hard being a teenager and feeling all sorts of pressure."
"The father is 25," Lucy said tightly. "I don't even know how they met. I'm so angry at her right now despite trying so hard not to be. She's saying she isn't even going to keep the baby after giving birth."
"That's hard," Lance empathized.
"I wish her father was here," Lucy said next. "He'd know what to do." Lance pressed his lips together and bowed his head. Lucy's husband had suffered a work accident when Barbara was seven and died. Lucy had been doing it all by herself ever since.
"Can we help with anything?" Carol asked.
"Just keep those cookies coming," Lucy answered, and Carol obliged by setting the tin down in front of her on the table. Lucy picked one up and took a bite.
"Mum, can I have one?" Rita asked, coming in then. Carol gave her a look, which Lance knew was because she'd eaten batter already, but she ended up smiling and tilting her head.
"Just one," Carol answered, and Rita nodded while reaching for one. Lucy smiled at her.
"How are you, dear?" she asked.
"Good," Rita answered politely. "How are you?"
"Better now that I've had a cookie," Lucy answered. Rita beamed at her.
"Mum's cookies make everything better," she agreed. Lance couldn't hide his smile. His daughter could make him laugh out loud or smile at anything it seemed.
"Right they do," Lucy replied.
"Can you let the grownups talk for a bit longer?" Carol asked Rita. "Then we can start supper."
"Okay." Rita walked back to her book. Lance shifted on his feet, looking back at Lucy.
"I had no idea she was using," Lucy said sadly. "And I thought she'd just gained some weight. I'm the world's worst mother."
"No, you're not," Carol soothed. "You can't help Barbara hid things from you."
"I didn't ask. I was always afraid to challenge her too much. I didn't want her to hate me. We only have each other," Lucy said. "I didn't want to be truly alone. Well, I'm not really alone. God's with me, but you know what I mean."
"I do," Carol agreed.
"Ugh," Lucy said, resting her head on her hands. "What a mess."
"Well, we are here for you. All you have to do is ask," Lance said to her.
"Thank you."
He left the women to talk more and went to busy himself with fixing the back door.
...
Rita could tell that Mrs. Fields was sad. She didn't like seeing people sad. It made her feel helpless. She finished her book before too long and then found her father in the garage putting his tools away.
"What's up, chili bean?" he asked, making her giggle. He always had silly names for her at times.
"Can I ride Willow today?" she asked hopefully as she followed him to the barn. She watched as Hank and Willow came over to him while he prepared their food. She wanted to ride her mother's horse so badly, but her father kept saying she wasn't ready yet.
"Soon, luv," he answered on cue. She went over and reached to pet Willow gently. The horse blew air out of her nostrils against her face, making her laugh a little. Rita watched her father and knew he missed her mother. She remembered the day she'd found her mother's photograph and asked him who it was. He'd sat her down for a talk about people going to Heaven and living on through them. Rita felt proud to have her mother live through her. She'd talk to her mother when no one was around, telling her things that happened at school or a good book she'd read. She liked knowing her mother could hear her.
"Thank you for joining us," her father said when Simon came into view. Rita cringed inside as usual when she saw him. He scared her and confused her. She did her best to just stay out of his way without alerting her father something was wrong. She didn't want to get Simon into trouble because she knew that wouldn't end well for her.
Simon grabbed the feed pail for the chickens and trudged over to them. Rita stayed with her father.
"Grab the brush," he instructed her. She hurried to do so. She loved brushing both Hank and Willow. It was soothing. She started while her father lifted their hooves and picked muck out of them with his tool. Once they were done, he put out their feed. Then he lifted Rita up onto his shoulders; she hung on tightly and smiled wide, loving being so tall.
"It's all gonna be alright, you know that right?" he asked.
"Yea," she answered. "I know."
"Good."
Then he ran full speed to the house, making her shriek in laughter and hold on for dear life.
Ontario, Canada
Rosie walked from her rental car through the woods towards the cabin. She was in the middle of nowhere, and she found she rather liked it. The quiet was helping slow her thoughts, which was a relief.
"Hello, sister," Wes said, opening the door as she got closer. She smiled back at him and went in for a hug.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Well, thanks. Just hiding out here for a while. It's my favorite safe house."
"Very private," Rosie noted.
"Oh, yes. Come on in."
She stepped inside and saw how cozy it was. It made her wish she could retire and stay there forever.
"Any updates?" she asked, going to sit at the kitchen table. Wes pulled an envelope out of the kitchen drawer and set it on the table in front of her. She opened it and sifted through the photographs, smiling.
"Your daughter is adorable," Wes told her. "Your nephew seems troubled. Your husband is doing alright. Our sister is struggling."
"Carol is? Why?"
"It's Simon. I think there's something going on with him, and your sister is keeping it from Lance."
"How can you tell?"
"I was there watching once when Simon exploded at Carol. It was nasty, and I just feel that if Lance knew what was going on, he'd be more involved with it."
Rosie didn't like the sound of that. She had worried that Greg's temper would have influenced Simon. She'd worried even more about Zeke's genes being in him.
"So what do we do?" she asked.
"I don't really think there's anything we can do. I don't want to get caught intervening, and I know you don't either."
"I feel bad for her," Rosie said sadly. "It's like she can't escape violence."
"Her attachment style has something to do with that," Wes commented.
"Since when do you know so much about that?"
"Lots of time to read when you're dead, Rosie," Wes said with a laugh. She rolled her eyes, putting the photographs back into the envelope.
"So," she said. "What do you do here for fun?"
"Some skiing. Some hunting. It's not bad, really," Wes replied.
"Has our father talked to you at all?" Rosie asked. She hadn't seen Zeke in a while, which she was fine with. She wasn't sure how long she could resist the urge to stab him. She needed him vulnerable before she could do that.
"He sent a letter a few weeks ago. I'm going to be heading to Australia for a while."
"Australia?"
"Gotta keep moving me around so as not to get found," Wes rationalized with a shrug. "Whatever. I don't mind."
"I guess that means you won't be able to check in on my family for a while," Rosie said, realizing. Her heart sank.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It's not your fault. I got into this mess on my own," she sighed. Wes gave her a rueful smile in return.
"I think," he started, resting a hand on her shoulder, "one day, you'll have your family back."
"You think so?" she asked, skeptical.
"I know so," he answered. "Hang in there, sis." He gave her a slight shake before letting her go and moving to make something for them to eat. Rosie rested her chin in her hand, and she allowed herself to envision this reunion her brother seemed convinced she'd get to have one day.
She really hoped it would come true.
London, U.K.
Johnny glanced over at Luke wistfully watching the neighbor kids play, and he felt a slight twinge of guilt that they had basically forbade him from making friends. Kids asked questions, and their parents asked questions, and Johnny didn't want to have to move every time someone asked too many questions. Luke could hang out with kids at school, but that was it. No one was to come to the house, and he didn't entirely trust that Luke wouldn't somehow spit out something about his training to a parent if he went to some kid's house.
He gave a slight whistle, making Luke turn to see him and trot over to him.
"Yea, Dad?" he asked. The title still didn't fit him, but he knew the kid had no idea he wasn't his real father, so he couldn't say anything about it.
"You're gonna help me clean," Johnny replied, lifting the bag slightly. Luke grinned. He envied that the kid actually enjoyed cleaning guns. It was Johnny's least favorite job.
"Where did you go this time?" Luke asked as they went inside and headed to the basement. Jess was making dinner and smiled at him as he passed. He hadn't seen her in months. He and Colter had gone on another job together in Iran.
"Somewhere with lots of sand," he answered, clomping down the stairs.
"Did you get the target?"
"Of course," Johnny scoffed, setting the bag on the work bench with a thud. "Look who you're talking to."
"Up close or far away?"
"Long range," Johnny answered, pulling out his sniper rifle from the bag. He knew Luke took a shine to that rifle. He handed it to the boy now, and Luke started to clean it. Johnny pulled out the rest and got to work himself. Luke didn't ask any more questions, and Johnny enjoyed the silence. When he was done, he left Luke to finish up and headed back upstairs.
"You look tired," Jess noted when he found her setting the table. He grabbed her hips and pulled her into him, kissing her hard.
"Come on," he said after, tugging at her.
"Supper's almost ready..."
"Come on," he said again, more urgent this time. She stopped resisting, and he knew he should be more tender, more loving, but sometimes after a kill, he just needed to feel again. He was done with her long before she had to take care of supper, and she said nothing as she left him lying there with his arm over his face. He could hear Luke come back up the stairs and talk to her about something...he didn't know what; he didn't care.
He drifted in and out of a doze until Jess nudged him awake to eat.
...
Luke slipped out into the night when he heard noises coming from his parents' bedroom. He wasn't entirely sure what went on in there, but he didn't like listening to it. He made his way down the hill towards the woods, disappearing into them and finding his safe place tucked up in the branches. He held his flashlight in his teeth as he climbed up the tree, pushing the board out of the way so he could pull himself up. He got comfortable on the sleeping bag he'd left there and turned the light off. He imagined what a best friend would be like. He didn't have one. He had some buddies at school he talked with, but he didn't have a true friend. He knew his parents didn't really want him to have one. He knew why. Too many questions.
He rolled onto his right side, exhaling softly and trying to sleep. He wondered how many other kids were like him out there. He wished he could meet them. Then, the questions would not matter. They'd have something in common.
He never thought about what it would be like if he was just a regular kid without any knowledge of how to kill people. There was no point. This was who he was. There was no changing that.
Montana, U.S.
Simon thoroughly enjoyed terrorizing other kids. He was so good at it. After having his mother and Lance keep a closer eye on Rita, he had to get his fix elsewhere, and most of the kids he bullied at school kept their mouths shut.
The odd one would tattle, though, and it just caused him a lot of grief.
"I don't understand," his mother was saying now as she stood in front of him with her arms crossed. "Why are you doing this?"
He yawned, which infuriated her that much more. He didn't care. Any punishment she gave him had no effect on him. Nothing bothered him.
"Simon," she said fiercely, "do you understand that if you keep this up, you'll get expelled?!"
"So?" he said finally. "Just teach me at home then."
"That is not the solution."
"It's not your solution," he corrected.
"Why are you bullying Norman?" she asked. "What is the purpose of that?"
"I dunno," he said with a shrug. She growled in frustration.
"Simon, it has to stop."
Would you rather I bully Rita again? he asked mentally. He'd wanted to. Every now and again he could get a pinch or a shove in, but he didn't want to get caught hurting her. He had a feeling Lance wouldn't just sit down and have a talk. He was pretty sure Lance would murder him, but that's what made it so thrilling: knowing he was getting away with it at such a high cost.
"He was picking on me first," Simon said, trying that tactic. "I just defended myself, and then he runs off crying that I'm bullying him. It's not fair! You always side with them!"
"Simon..."
"I'm your son! Why can't you trust me?!"
It was working. His mother was looking conflicted and unsure. He forced the tears to start next.
"Everyone hates me," he cried. "Everyone thinks I'm weird. They pick on me behind the teacher's back. I can only take so much and then I snap, and that's always when the teacher is noticing! I don't know what to do. I hate school. I hate those kids. I wanna quit."
"Simon," his mother said, her voice more gentle now. He had her wrapped around his finger. It had been so easy. "Why didn't you tell me this was going on?"
"You'd call me a liar."
"But I'm not," she pointed out.
"Saying something just makes things worse," Simon fake whimpered.
"Well, fighting back isn't good either," she stated. "I think maybe I need to tell Lance."
"No," Simon said sharply. "I don't want him to know. I'm not some weakling that needs protection."
"He might help..."
"No!" Simon shouted, banging his fist on the table hard. "He's not my dad. It's not his business."
"Well..."
"Mum, no!" he shouted again. She slightly flinched at the harshness of his voice.
"Okay," she agreed. "This stays between us."
"Mummy!" Rita called, coming inside then. "Willow and Hank are chasing each other around again. It's so funny. Hank tried to bite Willow in the butt." She giggled at this. Simon refrained from rolling his eyes. Her and that damn horse. It was pathetic.
"That is funny," his mother agreed, smiling at Rita. Simon seethed inside. Perfect Rita. The little princess. The one who could do nothing wrong.
"Simon, will you play with me?" Rita asked next, sounding hopeful. His first response was to say no, but then he had an idea.
"Okay," he agreed. "Mum, can we go fish in the creek?"
"Yea, can we?" Rita asked. "Pleeeaaase?"
"Oh, I don't see why not," his mother said. "That might help you feel better."
"Are you sick?" Rita asked Simon. He gritted his teeth. He didn't want his problems looked at by her.
"No," he growled. At least she didn't ask any further questions. She was a dumb seven year old after all.
"Be careful!" his mother called after them as they walked outside together. His fishing pole was in his hand.
Rita chattered on about nothing. Simon tuned her out after a while. He actually did fish, and he hated to admit that it did help him feel a little bit better, but at the same time, he was plotting. If Rita wasn't around, his mother's full attention would be on him. Without Rita, things would be so much better. She was humming to herself happily, and he knew she would not expect him to do anything. He'd given her enough time to think she was safe. It was perfect.
He quietly set down his pole and crept up on her. She shrieked when he grabbed her and shoved her under the water. She thrashed and fought, but she was so much weaker than him. He started to laugh. Feeling her distress was making him feel empowered and strong.
He pulled her out to give her some air, to let her think she was going to be alright for a second, before shoving her back under. He did this a few times, getting ready for the finale, and then she surprised him.
She fought back.
He lost his grip on her, and she got swept away. For a second, he let her go. For a moment, he realized he could call this an accident. His dream would come true.
Then he realized he would no longer have such an easy target, and there was more he wanted to do to Rita yet. He was getting older and learning about things, things that piqued his interest and made him want to explore. No, he couldn't let her die yet.
Sighing roughly, he went after her. When he fished her out, she was crying, and he put on the show of being scared for her. He piggy backed her home, and his mother came out frantic. He kept up the scared act, and she bought it. He went to dry off and change, and he could hear Rita blubbering and crying still. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled.
His father would be so proud.
...
Lance didn't quite buy it. He was shaken and scared and angry when Carol told him that Rita had almost drowned on Simon's watch that day.
"It was an accident," she said firmly as he paced. "Lance, I'm serious. Simon wouldn't hurt Rita. He loves her."
"Does he?" Lance challenged. "I've never seen him affectionate towards her ever."
"He shows his affection differently," Carol insisted. "He's a bit different from us, but he still cares."
Lance looked at her, feeling as though she knew her argument was weak, but there was no proof. Rita had also said it was an accident. If Simon really had hurt her, he was sure she'd tell him.
"I can't believe I almost lost her," Lance said, changing the subject. He didn't want to fight with Carol. He sank down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. She sat down next to him and rested a hand on his back.
"I know. It was terrifying," she agreed.
"She's everything to me," Lance continued, and he felt her stiffen slightly. He felt a little bit of regret because he knew what she was thinking. "You know what I mean."
"I do," she said. "I just sometimes struggle with knowing I'm in third place."
"Third?" he asked, looking at her.
"Rosie, Rita, and then me," she replied. He wanted to argue it, but he realized it was true. He swallowed, unsure of how to proceed in this conversation.
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling that was the best place to start.
"It's okay," Carol assured him. "I knew what I was getting into when I married you. I know I'll never be Rosie, and I know the bond of a father and daughter is not something to compare myself with."
"You're still important to me," he told her, reaching to put his arm around her and pull her close. "I do love you."
"I know," she said, giving a small smile. "And I love you, but we both know it's not the same, nor should it be. We love people differently."
"I agree."
She kissed him softly and smoothed his face with her hand. Then she patted his cheek lightly and stood up to go finish tidying up downstairs. He watched her go, running a hand through his hair.
...
Simon returned to his room later that night feeling invigorated. He'd never touched a girl before, and now he knew what it was like. He wasn't sure what to make of it, if he was honest. He wanted more experience before making a final decision about himself in that area.
The best part was that he'd broken Rita even further. He knew she didn't know what to do about it, didn't understand it, and that it had made her so confused. He smiled.
He'd have her down to broken shards on the floor in no time.
London, U.K.
Rosie barely glanced at Colter as she entered her father's office. She hadn't seen him in a long time, and she could tell he was starting to show that the job was getting to him.
"You wanted to see me?" she said, stopping in front of his desk.
"So formal," Zeke commented. "What? No hello? No how are you?"
"I don't care," she retorted. He laughed.
"Right. I forgot you hate me," he said. He sat up in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk now. "Putting that aside, I need you to do a job in Rio."
"Rio," she repeated.
"The target is going on vacation there," Zeke explained. "Less security and their guard is down a bit more."
"I know," she said impatiently. He smiled.
"Of course you do. I trained you after all," he reminded her. "Colter's going with you."
"What?" Rosie asked, feeling a bit disgruntled. She hadn't worked with Colter in a while either.
"Just get along," Zeke ordered, waving his hand. "Dismissed." She turned on her heel and stalked out. Colter was behind her.
"I don't like it either," he advised as they went down the stairs.
"You could have said no."
"Have you ever said no to him?"
He had her there. The only thing she'd done was disappear and marry her target, but she hadn't actually told her father that no, she wasn't going to kill Harry. You just didn't say no to Zeke. He didn't take it well.
"In and out," Colter said when they stepped outside. "Then you won't have to look at my ugly face again."
"Good."
Rosie took in some breaths as she got into her car and followed him to their rendezvous point. She missed working with Wes. He'd been the only other one outside of Zeke to take her out when she was younger as she was learning. She wondered if that made Colter jealous that she had a good relationship with their older brother.
She drove on, lost in her thoughts with one hand resting on her cheek and her elbow leaning against the car door. Her heart ached for her family she'd lost. She wanted to be with them so much. Then she got thinking about Colter's family. She wondered if he went to check on them too or if he'd never looked back.
She guessed she would never know.
...
Johnny was drinking and thinking. He tried not to feel bad that he had Luke tied to a chair back at the motel room. He was teaching the boy a lesson, and he was fairly certain he'd come back to find him free of it. As much as Jess pissed him off, she was doing well with training him. Johnny was going to wait until Luke was a bit older before presenting him to Zeke. When Luke was 17, he could start officially working. Johnny had a feeling that Jess was going to start him sooner, though.
"Well, well," Colter said, strolling up to him. Johnny swallowed his beer and set the bottle down on the countertop.
"What're you doing here?" he asked. He spotted Amelia standing with her arms crossed behind him. She was scowling. "And why is the sourpuss here?" He still felt a ping of attraction for her at times, but he knew better than to show it.
"We're off to work, but I needed to give you this first," Colter said, handing him an envelope of cash. "From Zeke."
"Thanks," Johnny said, pocketing it inside his jacket. "Where you off to?"
"Rio."
"I'm jealous," Johnny said, chuckling.
"How's the boy?"
"Coming along great," Johnny replied. He saw the disapproval in Amelia's eyes, but he didn't care. "He's learning a lesson as we speak."
"Good, good," Colter said, running a hand over his head briefly and giving the back of his head a slight scratch. The tattoo that wrapped around his bicep became visible for a moment. Johnny wondered what the significance of an arrow meant to him and why the "V" shape at the end of it was larger than usual. Johnny examined it. Maybe it was supposed to be the letter "V." But why?
"You can tell Jess that everything's cleared up. She hasn't been found out. Zeke made sure of it. He's a bit pissed, but even he admitted it was a hard job to pull off," Colter said now.
"I'll tell her."
"See you around," Colter said, reaching to clap his back.
"Have fun," he commented after taking another swig. "Bye, sweet cheeks."
"Sod off," Amelia growled, turning to walk away. Colter held up a hand in a wave goodbye, and then they were gone. Johnny finished his beer, paid for it, and headed back to the motel. As he drove, he started to relax a little. Jess was safe. Zeke had taken care of it. While he didn't like that their boss had to ensure she wasn't found out, he was grateful for it. Zeke had a bit of a soft spot for Jess it seemed. Johnny felt a little bad for yelling at her so hard and calling her names, but he'd been scared. He was sure she knew that.
"Alright," he said to himself as he parked and cut the engine. Time to see if the boy had freed himself or not.
Three Days Later
Jess was beyond furious. When Johnny returned home with Luke, she'd launched into another fight with him about it. He fended off her smacks and laughed a lot, but that only made her angrier.
"Jess, stop it," he ordered, grabbing her wrists and pinning her against the wall now. She went to knee him, and he blocked it with his easily.
"Let me go," she commanded.
"Zeke covered for you. The problem has been taken care of," he told her. She felt a drop in her stomach. Zeke had helped. Now she owed him. She hated owing him.
"Shit," she said, the wind leaving her sails a little now. "I don't want to owe him again."
"I don't think you will. Colter said even Zeke knew how hard this job was. You did your best; he had to tidy it up. It's okay."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
She relaxed fully now. Crisis averted. Johnny let her go, and she stopped lashing out at him.
"What did you do to Luke?" she asked, needing to know.
"Just taught him some stuff. No big deal," he answered. "Got his hand to hand combat skills upped a bit."
"Okay."
"He's a neat kid," Johnny said then, taking her by surprise. He didn't normally say anything affectionate about Luke.
"He is," she agreed cautiously. He flashed a smile before going to grab a beer from the fridge. She stood there wondering just what exactly had transpired between her son and Johnny.
...
Luke was in his tree house later that night when his parents started making noise in their room. He didn't know how long he was out there when Johnny found him.
"What're you doing out here at this time of night?" he asked, pulling himself up and narrowly missing banging his head on the ceiling.
"I couldn't sleep," Luke answered honestly.
"Nice crib you got here," Johnny commented, looking around.
"Thanks." He watched Johnny light up a cigarette and exhale slowly. He resisted coughing.
"I know you and I haven't always had the best relationship," Johnny said slowly after a bit. "That's a lot to do with me."
"Okay."
"I guess I just want to say that the last three days were nice," Johnny went on, looking at him with his cigarette dangling from his lips.
Luke felt wary. This was unusual for his father, but then again, he wasn't smoking an actual cigarette, and he knew Johnny had been drinking earlier too. This was high Johnny talking.
"You're a good kid," Johnny said, moving to leave now. "Smart. Good fighter. I have no doubt one day you'll do us proud."
Luke still said nothing, and it seemed Johnny wasn't looking for an answer. He left, and Luke sat there hugging his knees and wondering just what the hell had happened.
Montana, U.S.
Lance jerked awake to the sound of frantic knocking. It took him a moment to realize he was on the couch, the fire crackling in the background. He'd fallen asleep from exhaustion of a long day. Carol was already in bed. The kids were too.
He felt a pang of anxiety as he looked at the door and wondered if Colter had finally found him. He stood, grabbed the fire poker, and headed to see who was calling.
"Lance," Lucy said, trying to get air. It was clear she'd been rushing around. "I need help."
"What's wrong?" he asked, resting the poker on the floor and leaning it against the wall without her seeing it.
"It's Barbara," Lucy told him. "She's in labor."
"Do you need a ride to the hospital?"
"No, we're past that," she said. "She didn't say anything until half an hour ago. The baby is coming right now."
"Why didn't you call?" Lance asked.
"There's a tree on the line. Phones are out," she replied. "Can Carol help me?"
"Carol faints at the mere sight of blood," Lance explained. "Trust me when I say that."
"Oh no," Lucy said, wringing her hands. Lance put a hand on her shoulder.
"I, however, am as steady as a rock."
"Oh, I don't know if Barb will like that..."
"Too bad for Barb," Lance cut in. "I'm all she's got."
"Okay. Hurry."
Lance didn't even think to write Carol a note. He just put on his coat and boots and hurried after Lucy. He figured he'd be back before morning anyway. She drove fast, and when they got inside her house, Barb was moaning on the bed.
"I'm here, baby girl," Lucy said, rushing back to her side.
"It hurts," Barb whimpered.
"I know, I know. It'll be all over soon enough," Lucy promised. Lance set to work getting things prepped. He'd helped Kenny birth enough cows to know roughly what to expect. He sterilized what needed to be sterilized and waited for the right time.
"Luce?!" Kenny called, coming in the back door. "Everything okay? Where are you?"
"In here," she called back. Kenny appeared in the room in moments.
"I saw the light on," he said. "It's after eleven. I got worried. What's going on?" Lance knew that Lucy and Kenny had an arrangement where if she turned on/left her one back light on past a certain time, it indicated she was in trouble. He wondered why she hadn't gone to get him instead of Lance, but he figured she wasn't thinking straight right now. He also figured she'd hoped to get Carol and not need one of the men.
"Just giving birth," Lucy replied as Barb let out a howl. Kenny winced.
"Oh boy," he said.
"AAAAHHHH!" Barb howled louder.
"You take the lead," Lance instructed Kenny. "You've done it plenty of times with calving."
"Let's hope I don't have to stick my arm up there and turn her around or pull her out, eh?" Kenny joked. Barb shot him a murderous look, and he straightened his face immediately.
"Tough crowd," he commented. "Alright, let's have a baby." He sat down to monitor and assist with the birthing process while Lance went to help Lucy keep Barb calm.
"It's alright," Lucy kept saying, rubbing Barb's arms slowly. "Almost there. You can do it." Lance had nothing to offer in the words of comfort category. He just let her squeeze his hand so hard he thought she'd break it. He suddenly felt grief over not being able to do this for Rosie. He'd been robbed of this experience with her.
"Doing great," Kenny said as Barb kept grunting and groaning and bellowing.
"Save your strength," Lucy said to her. "Put that yelling into pushing."
"Shut up!" Barb snarled at her. Lance caught the hurt in Lucy's expression, and he felt a bit irritated at Barb for the way she treated Lucy lately. He'd witnessed a few other times where she was rude and belligerent, and he marveled at how Lucy didn't just slap her for it. She just took it.
"Almost there," Kenny said now. "One last push."
Barb screamed, making Lance jump a little, and he looked towards Kenny when he moved quickly and delivered the baby.
"You mind?" Kenny asked, nodding his head at the scissors. Lance pried his hand free from Barb's and went to grab them. He cut the umbilical cord, and Kenny started checking the baby's airway and other things.
"You're a pro," Lance commented.
"I was a medic in 'Nam," Kenny replied. "Believe it or not, I helped deliver some babies over there. I know what's what." Lance was even more surprised. He'd had no idea. Lucy looked just as surprised.
"Thank you, Kenny," Lucy said, tears in her eyes as she looked at her granddaughter, who had started to cry at this point. Barb had turned her head away, her eyes closed.
"You still gotta take them to the hospital," Kenny instructed. "Get them checked out."
"Okay."
"I can drive," Kenny offered. Lance looked back and forth between Lucy and Kenny, and he had a suspicion something was going on there. It made him smile.
"Thank you."
"Barb, do you want to hold your daughter?" Kenny asked, holding the now wrapped up baby in his hands.
"No," Barb answered.
"No?" Kenny repeated. He looked at Lucy, who bit her lip.
"Barbara wants to give up the baby," she explained.
"Oh..."
"Please take her away," Barb said now, still keeping her eyes closed. Kenny looked like he wanted to say something, but he turned away and did her bidding instead. Lance followed with Lucy behind him.
"I want her," Lucy said softly, reaching to touch the baby's cheek and crying a little more. "I don't want her to get lost in this world or given to some family who abuses her or worse. I want her here. I want to raise her."
"What does Barb think of that?"
"I haven't told her. I was hoping she'd change her mind."
"I'm sorry, Luce," Kenny said, giving her a sympathetic look. She twisted her lips to the right and exhaled through her nose a little roughly.
"It is what it is," she said. "We'll figure things out afterwards. Thank you, Lance, for assisting. Thank you, Kenny, for everything."
"My pleasure, doll," Kenny said.
"Call us if you need anything," Lance told her. He was looking at the little bundle in Kenny's hands and couldn't stop thinking about Rita as a baby. Had it been seven and a half years since she'd fit in the palms of his hands already? It seemed hard to believe.
"I will," Lucy promised.
He left them to get ready to leave for the hospital and drove home. The sun was starting to come up, which surprised him. It hadn't felt that long, yet it had at the same time. He got home and went inside the house quietly. Carol stirred when he came into the bedroom, and she opened an eye to look at him blearily.
"Where were you?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep still.
"Helping Lucy. Barb had her baby," Lance answered. Both Carol's eyes snapped open at this, and she sat up, the sleepiness fading fast.
"What?! When?!"
"During the night. The phones are out, so Lucy came to get me. I didn't disturb you as I know you don't do blood."
"I still could have been there for support..."
"There wasn't time, luv," Lance said. "Sorry. We can go see them when they get back from the hospital."
"Is Barb keeping the baby?"
"It doesn't look like it."
"Oh, no. Poor Lucy," Carol said sadly. "She let herself get excited in the end about having a granddaughter."
"It's too bad," Lance replied, not knowing what else to say. He crawled into bed fully clothed and hoped to get a couple hours of sleep at least. It was Saturday, so he didn't have to go to work. He knew there were chores to do, but he also knew Carol could do the morning shift with Simon and he'd do the night shift.
He fell asleep thinking about how small the little baby was.
...
Rita peeked into the master bedroom and saw her father still sleeping on his back. She briefly wondered if he was sick, but then she remembered hearing that he had worked late last night. She tiptoed into the room, hoping not to wake him yet. She wanted to be there when he woke up and surprise him.
"What're you doing, missy?" her father asked, his eyes still closed. His one arm was thrown over his head.
"Awwww," she said. She hadn't wanted him to catch her just yet. He opened an eye to look at her, and she smiled brightly.
"I haven't forgotten," he promised. "I'm getting up soon." She crawled in next to him anyway, resting her head on his arm. He curled his arm to pull her into a hug before letting it go slack again. His hand was still on her arm, though. He made her feel safe. Rita didn't think anyone else could ever make her feel safe the way he could.
Then he made her squeal with laughter as he pulled the blanket over her head and started to tickle her through it. He made fake roaring noises as he chased her around once she started crawling to get away under the covers.
"My goodness," Carol said, coming into the room then. "What is happening here?" Rita stuck her head out from under the covers at the edge of the bed and looked at her.
"I'm escaping the Tickle Monster," she explained logically.
"Well," Carol said, smiling a little as she turned to leave. "Don't let me interfere."
Rita shrieked when her father tackled her and tickled under her neck and armpits mercilessly. He laughed when she moved to bite him.
"Hey, now," he said. "Don't fight dirty." She giggled and managed to get free of him. She then rolled off the bed and landed on all fours before standing up straight.
"Come on," she said almost impatiently. She wanted to get on with their planned time together. It was something they did two Saturdays a month, and she looked forward to it.
"Alright, I'm coming," he conceded. "Go wait downstairs."
"Okay!"
She hurried out and down the stairs, almost tripping on the second last step. Simon was coming inside from doing chores, and he gave her an almost disgusted look. Rita veered away and kept far away from him. He hadn't come to see her at night since the time he'd touched her, but she wasn't taking her chances being alone with him anymore. She'd spent a while being upset about it until her father commented, and then she knew she had to be happy again to avoid him asking questions and getting her into trouble with Simon. It was easy to forget it during the day, but it came back to her at night. She hoped Simon would never do that to her again.
She waited in the kitchen where Carol was baking something. Simon thumped to his bedroom and shut the door. Her father came down a little bit later smelling freshly showered. Carol gave him a mug of coffee, which he gave an appreciative sniff before taking a sip. Rita wasn't sure why he loved coffee so much, but he always made that face when he had a cup.
She wriggled with impatience in her seat. She wanted to get going. Her father seemed to sense this as he ate quickly and finished his coffee.
"Okay," he said, scraping his chair back and standing up finally. "Let's go."
Rita was up like a shot and out the door before him. She hurried to the shed. As much as she couldn't wait to ride Willow one day, she loved riding the four wheeler. She was sitting on the back with her helmet on when her father got there. He pulled his helmet on as well and started it up. She grinned, anticipating their journey to wherever he was taking them.
As long as she was with him, she didn't care about anything else.
London, U.K.
Jess was folding laundry when Luke came home from wandering the woods. He got that from her. She remembered her love of rushing through trees and jumping over logs. She swallowed, the memories of her childhood suddenly choking her. She tried not to think about it much, but it was still there in the background...hovering. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could still see the flames from the fire that killed her family and left her an orphan.
She watched Luke pour himself a glass of water. He was a gangly ten year old, but she knew he'd grow up and turn into a man someday.
"What did you see out there?" she asked when he approached her. He started to help fold. That was another thing Jess loved about her son. He just pitched in without even asking.
"Not much," Luke answered. Jess knew he was starving for friends, and she felt bad for encouraging him to not get involved with other kids. She just didn't want to risk their cover. She set down the shirt she'd folded and looked at him intently; he didn't notice for a moment until he saw she'd stopped.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"You wanna do something fun today?" she countered. He looked instantly intrigued with a hint of excitement.
"Okay," he said, trying to sound casual. Jess put the now folded clothes into the basket to put away later. Right now, she was going to spend time with her son.
"Come on then," she said, heading to grab her keys.
...
Luke was in seventh heaven when he saw his mother had taken him to go dirt biking. He'd never learned how, but he imagined it wouldn't be complicated. Johnny had taught him how to drive a car after all. He hadn't actually driven it. He'd just been seated in the driver's seat and shown everything and how to operate it. Luke hoped he wouldn't have to drive until he was older. The idea scared him a little because a car was big. Dirt bikes on the other hand...they were manageable.
"Alright," his mother said, tossing him a helmet that he caught expertly. "Let's show you how it's done."
"How do you know how to do it?" he asked, curious.
"Oh, one of my buddies showed me a long time ago," she answered dismissively. Luke didn't know anything about his mother's past. She deflected anytime he ever asked. She had a mark on her side that he learned was a burn mark, but she never talked about how she got it. He got seated on the bike and listened to her describe the clutch and gears and everything. He was excited and trying not to show it. He knew showing strong emotions was a giveaway and led to your opponent taking advantage of you.
"This is cool," he couldn't help but say, and his mother smiled.
"It is very cool," she agreed. "Alright. Come on. Let's go ride some trails." She went to get on her bike and started it. Luke succeeded in getting his going on the third try. He put it in gear and slowly released the clutch. He jerked forward a little, but then he was going, and he felt like he'd done this forever. His mother rode behind him, and when he started to get braver, he shifted to higher gears. An hour later, he was riding full speed and racing his mother, knowing she was whooping and shrieking as much as he was.
It was one of the best days of his life.
Montana, U.S.
Do you have any brothers or sisters?
Rita's question echoed in his mind as he went through the motions of the day ending. They'd spent the afternoon together, stopping to enjoy a view along the trail and have a snack. They'd seen a few wildlife along the way. It was during the stop that she'd asked the question, and now he couldn't help but think about the one sibling he did have who had died. He wondered if things would be different if they had lived.
"Lots on your mind?" Carol asked as he brushed his teeth. He nodded, and she acknowledged it. He spat after a moment and rinsed his mouth, pulling off his t-shirt next and changing into his pajamas.
"You wanna talk about it?" she offered.
"Not really," he answered honestly. She didn't argue. Once they were in bed together, she curled against him. He gave her a kiss, which turned into something more, and he did his best to not think about Rosie, to be in this moment right here. This time, he succeeded.
"Good game," she commented, patting his hand resting on his chest after, and he chuckled.
"You too," he replied. They didn't say anything else, and he fell asleep easily after a few moments, but it was riddled with nightmares.
The next morning, he went over to see Lucy while Carol took Simon and Rita shopping. She had gone to see Lucy at the hospital the day before.
"Hi, Lance," Lucy said, opening the door for him. She looked like crap, and Lance wondered what happened.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"No," she answered. "Barb's gone."
"Gone?" he repeated.
"Gone," she confirmed. "Ran off last night from the hospital. I suspect she's gone to be with her boyfriend. She wrote a note saying she isn't coming back."
"I'm so sorry."
"I don't know what I did wrong," she lamented, "and I guess I will never find out."
"The baby?" Lance asked, feeling anxious suddenly.
"She's here with me," Lucy replied. "I'm raising her. The courts and child protection are working with me to make it happen. I'm her guardian now anyway. Barb also said in the note that she didn't want anything to do with the baby."
"I'm glad you got to keep her."
"Me too."
They walked to where the baby girl was sleeping. Lance smiled at her.
"What's her name?" he asked.
"Barb didn't give her one," Lucy replied. "And I have no idea what to call her." Lance looked at the baby again, and he could feel it. It was so obvious. It was in the little infant's eyes.
"Keira," he said. "She looks like a Keira."
"Ohhh, I love that," Lucy said, looking at the baby too. "Keira. That's nice. Where did you come up with that?"
My sister.
"Someone I knew once," Lance said out loud.
"Are you okay if I call her that?"
"Of course."
"Keira Lynn," Lucy said. "My mother's name was Lynn."
"Beautiful," Lance stated. They stood there in silence looking at little Keira for a while longer. Lance hoped he hadn't jinxed this little girl by giving her the name of his dead sister, but he hoped that maybe she would grow up and carry the name on someday.
Maybe she'd be stronger than all of them. He could only hope.
Germany
Rosie cried out when she got thrown down the flight of stairs. She braced herself as best as she could, and she landed hard on her stomach on the floor. She could hear steps of her target coming, and she had to get up. He was proving to be more difficult than she anticipated. She dragged herself across the floor to where her gun had skittered, breathing through the pain. She had to survive. She couldn't die here. Her fingers almost touched the gun when the man grabbed her ankles and dragged her back. She twisted and aimed her fist at his face. He sat on her chest and wrapped his hands around her neck. She attacked his pressure points, getting no results. She rammed her fingers into his eyes next, and he yelped and let go of her neck. She punched his throat next and chest before shoving him off. He fell to the floor on his side, and she managed to get up and go to her gun. She grabbed it, turning to shoot him just as he came at her again. She covered her head with her arms as he fell to protect herself and rolled to try and get out of the way. He landed hard inches from her, and she lowered her arms to see his blank stare looking back at her. Shaking, she got to her feet and surveyed the mess. Zeke hated messy kills. She knew he'd be angry at her for this. She went to get her gasoline and started spreading it everywhere. When you left too much DNA, you had to clean it up. That was the rule.
Rosie finished and stood in the doorway, looking at everything. It would burn quick. The house was rural enough that it wouldn't get noticed immediately. She lit the match and dropped it, watching the flames snap and snarl as they engulfed everything. Then she turned and walked back to her car down by the road. She wiped at her face with her arm as she shut her trunk with the gas can in it now, and she got into the driver's seat.
Sometimes, she really hated doing this job, but she had no choice. As long as Zeke was alive, she wasn't free. One day, when she could guarantee her family stayed safe and he didn't have such an army at his beck and call, she was going to fix that.
One day.
1988
Montana, U.S.
Simon honestly thought he'd gotten away with it. No other kid had dared speak up against him before, but there was always a first time for everything. His mother was very silent as she drove him home. They'd left Rita to come home on the bus. Simon knew his mother wanted to talk to him one on one anyway.
It wasn't until they were home and in the house when she finally spoke.
"How could you?" she asked. He stood there with his arms crossed. She had no idea what he was capable of, what he'd already done.
"We were playing," he said calmly. "I grabbed her to stop her from falling, and she's saying I assaulted her. I didn't."
"You grabbed her privates to stop her from falling?" his mother challenged. Simon kept his face as neutral as possible.
"I did not."
"She was very specific in detail about what you did to her, Simon," his mother said, her voice a warning almost. There was also disgust mixed in with it. "Where your fingers went. Where you put your mouth. What you forced her to do."
"I didn't," Simon said again.
"STOP LYING TO ME!" his mother exploded, and he flinched slightly. "I have covered and covered for you, child, and let me tell you, I will not cover for you anymore. I don't know where I went wrong or why you're doing this, but it has got to stop!"
"I'm not the one lying," he insisted. He watched her grab her face, growl, and grow redder in the neck and cheeks. He knew she was really angry at this point. He wasn't afraid of his mother, though.
"Go to your room," she ordered. "I can't even look at you right now." He obeyed. It would give him time to keep up his argument anyway. He sat on his bed and thought about what he'd done earlier that day. Ever since he'd touched Rita, he'd felt the desire to do more. He knew he couldn't keep doing it to her, though, because it was too risky. He'd started off innocent enough with other kids. It was an exploratory thing at first, and he wasn't picky with who he did it with. He was questioning his attraction to girls, and he wanted to figure that out.
His mother left him in his room until dinner. He'd heard Rita come home and chatter about her day like an idiot. He hated how much she talked sometimes. He listened to his mother talk to her all sweet-like, and he hated that too. He sat there boiling in his hatred and anger and decided he would upset his mother even further. He didn't look at her when she brought him out for dinner. Lance didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, so Simon knew she hadn't told him yet.
At night, he lay in bed and waited. He waited for all of them to sleep. When it was quiet for long enough, he went to Rita's room. He almost didn't care if his mother heard him. He coaxed his way into Rita's bed and did what he wanted to her. She didn't make a sound, even when she cried. He felt such satisfaction in making her confused. He hoped she'd be messed up forever, that she could never trust anyone and burn in anger just like he did.
He woke up the next morning and listened to Lance going to work. He worked the occasional Saturday, which was a relief to Simon. Less time being forced to bond together. He looked up from his desk when his mother came in early in the afternoon.
"Are you going to be honest with me now?" she asked.
"I am being honest. I didn't do it," Simon insisted again. He saw her fists clench and her jaw tighten. She kept calm, though.
"You are in a lot of trouble," she said. "You realize that?"
"Innocent until proven guilty," he replied.
"I hate how much you're like your father," she said after a moment, and he felt the stinging slap of this comment. He loved his father. How dare she indicate he was a bad person! He kept his stare even with hers, and she eventually left him alone. He waited until she was busy later in the afternoon before slipping outside to go to the shooting range. He made sure Rita saw him leave, though. He knew exactly what he needed to do, and there was no second guessing or feelings of doubt.
He was going to avenge his father.
...
Carol felt sick inside. She couldn't even look at Simon without wanting to punch him in the face. He dared to say he hadn't done it. She knew without a doubt he had. He'd escalated from being violent to sexual assault. She knew she had to tell Lance. She couldn't keep all of this to herself anymore. She needed help.
She sat at the table and went over in her mind how to approach Rita. She had heard Simon go into her room the night before, and she needed to get confirmation before confronting him. She'd put it off all day because she hated upsetting Rita, and she didn't really want to find out if her son had hurt her, but she had to do it. Lance would be home soon, and she needed to know before telling him. She'd talked to Lance about sending Simon to a boarding school briefly, and she was seriously considering it now or maybe something stricter. She needed to think.
She found Rita hunched over her homework (she loved that Rita loved doing her homework on a weekend), and she inhaled slowly, bracing herself. The girl turned her head when she approached.
"Rita," she said calmly. "You know if anything happens to you that you feel is wrong or that scares you, you can tell me, right?"
Rita blinked, and Carol knew right away that something had happened to her. She felt so bad for not seeing it sooner or thinking that Simon would hurt her like that.
"I know," Rita said finally.
"Sweetheart," Carol said, leaning closer to her. "Does Simon go into your room at night?"
She shook her head slowly, but Carol could see it there in her eyes.
"No," Rita said quietly.
"Rita," Carol said, still calm. She needed Rita to trust her to tell her. She didn't want to spook her by getting upset. Inside, though, she was raging. "I heard him last night."
Rita was trying to control her breathing. Carol watched her little brain working overtime. She hurt to know that Rita was trying to protect Simon. She wondered what Simon had threatened her with to keep her quiet.
"He was just playing," she blurted out, and Carol closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and giving her a sad look.
"Oh, honey," she said. "How long has he been doing it?"
Rita licked her lips anxiously.
"What else does he do to you? Does he hit you? That time in the river, did he try to drown you?" Carol prompted. Rita still stayed silent, and Carol felt devastated. The girl did not need to say it out loud; it was all over her face. When Rita still didn't say anything, Carol nodded her head.
"Okay," she said. "This stops now. Where is he?"
"Outside," Rita whispered. Carol sucked her teeth and nodded again. He'd slipped out without her knowledge, of course.
"Stay here," she instructed. "He won't touch you ever again, Rita. I promise you that. I'm so sorry, baby. I wish I'd found out sooner." She patted Rita's hand gently and got up to go find Simon.
Seething, she approached him where she knew he'd be: the shooting range. He was holding a pistol, and for a second, she felt a spark of fear. Then she shook it off. Her son would not murder her. He wasn't that evil.
"Simon!" she barked, and he turned to see her. She saw hatred in his eyes, and she was slightly taken aback. Since when had he hated her so strongly? He'd yelled it at her in the past, but then he'd always come around. When had the hate become stronger than the love?
"What?" he asked, his tone irritated. She stopped, facing him head on. She was shaking.
"You hurt Rita," she said.
"Says who?" he asked.
"I heard you go into her room last night, Simon," Carol said, making it so that he wouldn't think Rita had tattled. "Have you been hurting her all this time? Why would you do that to her?" It seemed at first that he would deny it, but then something snapped inside of him.
"Because you love her more!" he shouted, and she gave a start.
"Excuse me?!"
"You always shower her with love and affection. She can do no wrong! Little Rita is your pride and glory, and I'm just the f***ed up son you have to tolerate!"
"Simon, that's not true," she tried.
"It is! You hate me because I'm like Dad. You always have!"
"Simon!"
"No!" he yelled, stomping his foot. "You never loved me, and you don't care about me, and you never believe me!"
Carol was feeling mixed emotions, but she was still angry.
"You're not manipulating your way out of this," she said, furious. "You are going to face the consequences of your actions!"
She walked up to him, and he aimed the gun at her. She stopped, giving him a look.
"Put that down," she ordered. "Right now."
"No," he said.
"Simon, I mean it."
"So do I," he said. She gave him a look and saw the determination there. She was scared now.
"Simon," she said again, her voice wavering.
"This is for Dad," he told her, and he aimed and fired. Carol didn't make a sound as the bullet struck her. She opened her mouth, no words coming out, as she fell down to her knees and then onto her stomach. Simon had shot her. Simon had meant it. This was not an accident. This fact kept circling her head. Then she realized she was dying. She was going to die. She turned her head to look at Simon standing over her. He didn't even look sorry.
"Simon," she whispered. "P-Please..."
He knelt down closer to her, the gun still in his hand.
"I'm not sorry," he told her, resting the gun in her hand and squeezing her fingers around it for a moment to put her prints on it. "And I will always hate you."
Carol let her head rest against the ground again as he stood back up, and she felt herself fading. She thought of Lance and Rosie. She thought of Rita. She thought of everything she was going to miss. Her heart broke into a thousand pieces over her son. She hoped one day he would come back to the sweet boy she knew he could be.
The last thing she heard before she died was Rita screaming.
...
Simon wasn't sorry. He hadn't lied about that. He faked his hysterics for Rita and Lance. He faked it for the police, and he told himself over and over again that his father would be so proud of him. He'd done what his father could never do.
He planned to kill Rita that night too. And Lance. He wanted to erase this family from the Earth. He wanted to be on his own and start new, to rise like a phoenix from ashes. He wanted to find someone else out there like him who could show him how to harness this version of himself and put it to good use.
He was in the living room when Lance approached.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
"Nothing!"
"I can't prove it, but I know you did it," Lance went on. "I know that Carol was on to you about something. She wouldn't tell me what, but it was enough to deal with you. She was planning on sending you away to boarding school."
"I'm not going to boarding school," Simon said hotly. "I'm leaving."
"Fine. You're 13. You'll figure shit out," Lance replied angrily.
"Fine." This was ruining his plan, but he would adjust. He wasn't finished with either of them yet.
"What did you do my daughter?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me, you little shit. What did you do her?!"
"Nothing she didn't have coming," Simon retorted. Lance was fast; he didn't see it coming. His hand struck Simon's face hard, and it was all Simon could do not to topple over from the force of it. He grew angry again.
"Get out of my sight," Lance hissed, "and don't you ever, EVER, come back here. You hear me? I'll put you in a hole so dark no one will ever find you. You're lucky I don't do that to you right now."
Simon said nothing and went to his room. He packed up everything he wanted, and then he marched out of there. He marched past Rita and Lance without looking back. He went off on his own, seething inside. He would come back here one day and finish them all.
That was a promise.
Bulgaria
Rosie had given Jess the job, but she was sent as back up and ordered to stay in the shadows by Zeke. This was too important of a target to mess up. She watched Jess and Luke head down to the party. She watched Luke sit and do inventory before giving the notes to Jess. She watched Jess laugh and drink and act girly. She watched as it all went to shit.
Jess killed the target, but she was spotted. Rosie went to take the spotter out in order to avoid a mess. It became a mess anyway.
"What're you doing here?!" Jess shouted as Rosie ran after her.
"Helping," Rosie answered.
"Well, you're sucking at it!"
They ran, firing their silenced guns over their shoulders. When there was a break, Jess started to panic.
"I have to get Luke," she said.
"Then go," Rosie said. "I'll hold them off." Jess went into the elevator, and Rosie hid herself away, still watching. Shouting and swearing was happening around her. The target's security was pissed.
Jess finally came back down with Luke, and they ran for it. Rosie covered them from behind, but Jess still got shot, her cry loud across the parking lot. Rosie got caught up in a hand to hand combat and couldn't assist. She eventually saw the car peel away and gathered Luke was driving. Rosie took down her assailant and shot the other one running to help. She killed any others that were left and walked quickly away, removing her wig as she did so. She got to her car and took off. She hoped Jess was alright. She was glad she'd been there; she'd cleaned up Jess's mess. There would be no repercussions from Zeke. Rosie wasn't sure why she cared, but she conceded that she actually cared more about Luke than Jess. He was just a boy. She still felt appalled that Jess had him helping her. He was 11! She gave herself a shake.
She got to her safe house, knowing Johnny would deal with Jess. She was making notes when she heard a sound and whirled to find Wes standing there.
"Are you trying to get shot?!" she exclaimed, both scared and annoyed.
"Sorry."
"What are you doing here?!"
"I needed to find you," he said.
"Why? What's wrong?" Rosie asked, immediately panicking and thinking of Rita or Lance. Wes's face was giving away that it was serious. All thoughts of Jess and Luke were rapidly disappearing.
"It's Carol," he said.
"C-Carol?" she repeated, stunned. What happened to Carol?!
"She's dead," Wes told her. Rosie had to grip the counter to stop herself from falling over. Carol was dead? Her little sister was dead?
"What?" she asked, her voice small.
"They're saying it's an accident. She was trying to get a gun from Simon and it went off."
"That doesn't make any sense," Rosie said. Her mind was whirling. Why would Simon have a gun? Why would Carol try to take it from him? Why, why, why?!
"I haven't told our father."
"Don't," Rosie said sharply. "He doesn't deserve to know anything about her."
"Okay."
"I don't understand," Rosie went on, gripping her hair. "Carol was supposed to be safe there. She wasn't supposed to die!"
"I know."
"What do we do, Wes?"
"There really isn't anything we can do," he said. Rosie went over to him and let him hug her tightly. She breathed him in.
"Can we do a memorial for her?" she asked after a moment.
"Of course."
Rosie said nothing else. She tried not to be suspicious of Simon, but she was. She felt sad for Lance. He'd lost two wives now. He would be devastated. And Rita. She lost a mother and a mother figure. As she hugged Wes, she tried hard not to feel bad about everything.
It was hard to do.
...
Jess opened her eyes and found Luke sitting there looking worried. She smiled at him and reached for his hand.
"You did good," she told him. Her voice was hoarse.
"I thought you died," Luke said, trying not to sound scared. She patted his hand.
"It was a close call, but you got me to safety in time. It's behind us now." She could tell he was still worried, though. She didn't have the energy to boost his morale. She would talk to him later. She turned her head away and fell back asleep.
Her dreams were riddled with pain and confusion.
I just had to share. I went to a store I've only gone into three times in my life and found a painting last week that captured my attention called The Farm. I couldn't understand why I was so drawn to it, why I could stare at it for hours, and why I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about it to the point I went and purchased it a week later, which I don't typically do. As I looked at it more in my house, I suddenly realized what it is about this painting that speaks to me: it's almost exactly how I imagine Lance's farm. There are some obvious differences, of course, but basically, it's pretty damn close to what I imagine. So, now I have their farm to look at as much as I want :) Just thought it was a cool thing to share :)