Joie [1/?]
Title: Joie [1/?]
Author: Faline
Summary: This is a different take on the last scene with Beck. His men decide not to support him and he’s taken in to custody. This is the story of what follows:
A/N: NOT a companion to any other story. Just a plot bunny that’ll get fleshed out plenty in the coming days.
Some days you just want to shout
For joy!
Because a new day has come, throwing happiness in its wake.
Some days, Heather woke up from a cold sweat, still hearing Beck’s voice in her mind. Not loud or screaming, but calm and patient. Telling her that everything would be okay.
Eventually.
She could see the look in his eyes of defeat and the lost hope of a hundred things that would never be now.
Some nights, Heather is haunted by that look.
And she can’t sleep, instead tossing in her bed until the sun rises and she goes over to the Green house to rouse Emily out of sleep with a fragrant cup of coffee.
On those mornings, she likes to wait until Jake is up first, so she can spend quiet minutes talking with the man she had contemplated throwing herself at. Scratch that. HAD thrown herself at.
The days between then and now though were long and worn thin with fighting and death.
Neither of them were of the mindset that it was a good idea to bring up, mostly because there were other things to deal with.
Like Emily’s impending childbirth. And the war.
Four years the planes had flown overhead and the world had shaken violently with bombings. Four years Heather had scraped together life from her small garden and canned combined vegetables with the other families that had stuck around. Endless mornings spent repairing vehicles damaged by the AS and fixing the houses that were stripped in the previous weeks.
Four years and Heather had gone to sleep every night with haunted brown eyes floating in her vision.
She couldn’t imagine what prompted her to hang on to Beck for so long, other than the fact that he had been unobtainable and would forever remain in her memory as unobtainable. They had never so much as touched in a fashion unbecoming a liaison and Major. That left more than enough room for her fantasies.
Sometimes she wished she had at least as the guts to kiss him before they’d dragged him away to what surely must have been his death. He had smiled at her, disheartened, and she had the feeling he wouldn’t have complained too much. Wouldn’t have been able to at any rate.
Heather sighed deeply and tossed the hair out of her eyes. Her gaze swept the road in front of her and she tried her hardest not to feel even more downtrodden than before, if possible. Her hand rose, blocking the bright sunshine and she moved into the shade of a surviving maple tree before lowering her arm.
The AS had rolled through here, months ago before the war had officially ended, tearing up anything they could reach without fear of being shot. They had avoided Jericho proper, learning that they could raze the buildings to the ground but they’d be hard pressed to actually kill anyone with how resourceful the people were.
So, they’d stopped bombing main street a few years back. Didn’t mean they stopped razing outlying farms and destroying the roads as much as possible. From the damage she could see, Heather estimated this road was toast, its concrete cracked in multiple place and its foundation slipping.
Pulling out her notebook, she made a mention of it and continued her walk. It was pleasant; July and a cool morning at that. She had volunteered to walk the outer edge of Jericho for two reasons. One, because she loved to be outdoors, and two, because she wanted to see what had happened to the old military installment that had been outside of town. She hadn’t been cleared to go that far out of the city limits in years. A lifetime.
With Beck’s defection, his men had informed the higher up and Beck had been taken to Cheyenne. It was a bad day for the city/country. They lost a Major as well as the bomb that proved they’d attacked their own country.
Within 48 hours there were two more battalions in Jericho, daring Jake Green to come home. Daring Hawkins to try and save his own family. They had, of course, but not before the Texans bombed the shit out of the encampment.
The AS had brought back troops twice since then, both times taking heavy casualties from guided missiles that they were fairly powerless to stop.
They stopped sending troops then. Stopped coming through Jericho. Stopped killing townsfolk unlucky enough to be caught outside in a raid. They’d switched to burning farm houses and destroying the roads.
And now in July, with the weather beautiful, but still chilly and getting cloudier, the war was over. The world was safe again from evil corporations and she was still Heather Lisinsky. Former school teacher. Still in love with a dead man. Sometimes still pining for the living one her best friend had married.
At least she still had some fashion sense and knitting skills. The light sweater was a good addition to her outfit. She smiled at the memory of Bill complimenting her on the sweater only a few months back. She’d knitted it from the yarn he’d dug out of an attic somewhere.
His attachment was sweet. And she was beginning to think it wasn’t such a bad idea to want sweet. In the life she had, sweet was safe and a hell of a lot more reliable that reckless or commanding.
The road was gone. There was no way they were saving it. But, there were still farms along the way that she needed to check on.
She started off across the west Miller field, wishing she’d brought some sunglasses at the least. Heather kept her head down, to avoid the sun and to look out for mole holes. She was halfway across the field when she felt the wind pick up. A glance up at the sky told her that she was going to get wet that day.
With a couple acres left to go, Heather made a run for the Miller house, long since abandoned in the general move to town for the farm folks.
She cleared the porch only moments after the first fat drops had started falling and Heather laughed, feeling free for the first time in a long time and glad that she was out of town hall, out of Baileys, and away from a world that was broken.
Her gaze flickered across the view from the porch and she smiled as her laughing ceased. The gentle summer rain would keep it cool, which would keep all the repair work more comfortable.
She was glad, having worked many a too hot hour in the sun on a roof, fixing holes.
She sighed, still feeling very at ease, and turned to open the door. It was unlocked. She pushed the door open, waving away the dust that exploded with the sudden gust of wind echoing through the rooms.
It had been raided, but nothing had been seriously damaged. Her feet found their way to the kitchen and she found an old style pump next to a large cast iron washing tub. She was grateful, having decided that the jug she’d brought with her that morning could use replenishing. She pumped hard, first drawing nothing but gurgles and then thick brown water. Finally it gave way to crystal clear water and her fingers dipped in the liquid, experimenting with the temperature.
It was cool and welcome. She pulled a small plastic cup from her bag and filled it before pulling out her small water testing pack.
’At least all that schooling is paying off in the after world’ she thought wryly, thinking back on an earth science class. Not too long after, she was filling her half empty jug when it was obvious the water was still good enough to drink.
She filled the small cup again and wandered the first floor. The house reminded her of her grandparents’ home. Large and spacious with memories piled in every corner of every room. She could tell this house had once felt that cozy remembrance but with the broken furniture, animal tracks, and dirt it just felt empty now.
She found the fireplace in the next room, the living room. There were still photos of the Miller family on the mantle. She picked up one, wiping the dust from the glass. It was Amanda Miller and her big brother, Phillip. Amanda had been in her class a few years before the bombs. A very quiet girl, she was abnormally smart and always reading.
She never smiled though. Not like the girl in this picture who was on a tire swing with her big brother, holding on for dear life and giggling wildly.
The Amanda Miller that Heather had taught had lost her mom the summer before and was losing her father to a bottle of alcohol. She put the picture down as she pushed down the image of Amanda Miller’s body after a particularly violent bout of bombing last summer.
A creak on the porch made her head whip around and she stood still, waiting. She had a gun, but it was with her pack, on the kitchen table. There was a front door in the way. If she was in danger, she wouldn’t be getting help from that. She glanced around and picked up a leg from a broken table.
The windows were filthy and she couldn’t really see through them. The rain was falling harder now and Heather wondered if it had just been a branch falling.
And the sound came again, this time with an accompanying shadow through the glass. She sucked in her breath and crossed the room quickly, and quietly.
She had her back against the wall next to the doorway leading in to the hall when the door knob turned and the door creaked open. Her breath held, she listened as footsteps entered the hallway and stopped at the door to the living room.
The kitchen was on the other side of the hall, and her pack would be visible to the person immediately. They would know there was someone else inside.
Her fingers gripped the smooth wood tighter and she exhaled silently as the footsteps entered the kitchen. Heather risked a glance, wanting to know what she was facing. She frowned at the size of the man and the unkempt clothing he wore.
A hoodie had protected him from most of the rain and she winced as his fingers found her pack, opening it up. She heard a sigh when he found the snacks she’d packed for the day’s wandering.
He bit viciously into one of her apples and she moved suddenly, not even thinking about it. With a mighty crack, the wood connected solidly with the man’s head from behind and he lurched forward in to the table, the fruit falling from a numb hand.
There was a moment when she was afraid he would straighten back up. His legs locked and he made it halfway facing her before she brought the wood up again, striking solidly against the man’s face.
He crumpled to her feet.
Heather was breathing heavily and panicked. She edged away from him quickly and grabbed her pack, not even bothering with the few food items that had fallen onto the table.
She was at the door when he groaned and Heather fished out her pistol. She popped out the clip quickly, checking that it was full, then slammed it back in and cocked the weapon.
Her sights trained on the crumpled figure, she tried to find her voice but couldn’t. She was still far too shaken from hitting the man.
He drifted in to unconsciousness then, with a final groan and his head hit the floor.
She kept the gun on him a moment longer before sticking it in her waistband. She didn’t want to leave; the rain was coming down in sheets now and she really didn’t want to get her equipment wet.
But, she really couldn’t leave him like that. She couldn’t begin to guess how long the rain would last. She sighed and walked to the living room, her pack getting dropped on the couch and opened. She pulled out a length of rope and walked back in to the kitchen.
Heather approached the body, trying to access the best way to bind him. Both of his arms were lying out in front of him, blocking his face and almost on top of one another.
She pulled the gun out and laid it behind her, within her reach but not his.
She finally saw the man’s face when she pulled his right and top arm to the left to tie them.
The man had obviously seen better days. His hair was long and unkempt and he had a month’s growth of facial hair. There was something familiar about him. Perhaps he’d been from New Bern. She hadn’t seen anyone from that town in at least three years, right after it had been bombed for five days straight. If he was from New Bern though, there was hope left for those she still thought of as friends.
She finished tying quickly and sprang back, not wanting to be any closer to him than necessary. She picked the gun back up and backed away. He was out for the count. There was no way he’d be up and moving any time soon.
Thunder cracked outside and Heather groaned at the sudden sound, startled for a moment. The storm was picking up, stranding her here even longer. She went back to the living room, and her bag. She fished around until she found the long range radio Jake had pressed in to her hands that morning, making her promise to call with any issues.
She pressed the button on the side and spoke in to the microphone. “Jericho, this is Heather. Over.” She waited a few moments, hearing nothing but static before trying again. Again, nothing but static. It was probably just the weather.
Knowing Jake, he’d know that it was the weather too and would send out a search party when she hadn’t checked in at noon, like she’d also promised to do. She checked her watch and frowned. It was only eleven. She had some time.
Resolving that she could at least categorize what the house had, she glanced back at the kitchen, seeing the man was still lying on his side, unconscious. She took her pack, her gun still tucked in her waistband, and headed to the back of the house.
An hour later she’d been through every nook and cranny. She’d found a small supply of dry goods that were probably expired under the stairs in a cupboard that had been overlooked. She had added them to her pile of salvage in the living room with everything else she’d found.
All in all, a good find. Plenty of warmer clothes, which were becoming harder to find as sweaters and coats wore out with use. Even a plentiful supply of blankets and pillows. She couldn’t imagine why they’d been left, either by the AS or anyone else who’d wandered in. Blankets were extremely valuable and having an extra couple of layers usually meant the difference between life and death in the cold of Winter.
She was in the middle of folding the last of the blankets when the radio crackled to life, carrying Jake’s voice. “Heather, this is Jake, over.”
She smiled, relieved, and answered back. “Hey Jake. This is Heather. I’m out at the Miller farm. I got caught in the rain. Over.”
“It’s easing up in town. You should be clear in the next twenty minutes or so. Do you want me to send out some help? Over.”
She glanced at the pile of blankets, then back to the kitchen where the man was still. “Yeah. Send out a truck. We’ve got quite a bit to haul back.”
Heather wasn’t sure why she didn’t mention the man, but she didn’t want Jake to hurry, especially when she had everything under control.
“Roger that. I’ll send someone out momentarily. See you soon. Over and out.”
Her hand dropped the radio back in her pack and she reached for the blanket again when a low groan broke the silence. Her head whipped to the man and saw him stir. His hands rose to his head and he groaned again.
“Relax. You’re fine, but you’re not going anywhere.”
Heather grabbed her jug of water and her cup, filling it before coming over to the man. She wasn’t concerned for her life; she’d had plenty of practice at self defense. She just didn’t want to be stuck in a house with a crazy on the loose. The man raised his head at her voice and his eyes widened.
She knelt next to him and handed him the cup, expecting a thanks or for him to take it at least. Instead he stared, brown eyes full of wonder. “Heather?”
Heather frowned. He did sound really familiar too. Like he’d come as a ghost from her past. But the voice was gravely and desolate. She didn’t recognize him. “You’re from New Bern, aren’t you? You look so familiar.”
She pushed the cup on him again, letting him drink deeply before refilling it. She added a couple of pain killers she’d found in a cabinet as well, letting him take them from her hand before the cup.
“How’d you get all the way here without going through Jericho first? You’d have to have walked at least thirty miles out of your way.”
The man coughed, taking in too much water at one. She pulled the cup back and sat on her heels in front of him. He was looking at her evenly, and there was something in his eyes that pulled on Heather’s memory. Something forbidden, yet innocent. The yearning for a better life, a different place in a different world.
She gasped as realization washed over her and the man said her name again.
With unbelieving joy Heather’s mouth dropped open and she struggled to form words. This man, this ragged human who’d seen too much of the world had transformed in to Edward Beck. He smiled at her softly before reaching his tied hands toward her and she fell in to him, not caring about the dirty clothes or the filthy floor.
She tried to form the words, buried against his chest, but couldn’t find a sound in her throat. He squirmed underneath her and she leaned back, her hands quickly untying his. As soon as they were free of the bonds, Beck’s arms were around her and he was sitting up and squeezing her to his body.
”Heather.”
She was crying and grinning and unable to hold back the happiness, the unknown relief in her heart, for finding him again. He pushed her away, just to look at her and she looked back, amazed that she hadn’t recognized him immediately.
The years were long though, and the memory of this man had never had any room for someone who looked so broken and defeated. Her hand cupped his cheek, and his own framed her face.
The two were quiet, neither wanting to break this dream. Both thinking of the last time they’d seen each other, the future that seemed to maybe have a place for them and the violent departure from that idea.
They came together again, her face pulled to his chest once more and great sobs of relief racked her body. “How? How are you still alive?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Heather knew he didn’t want to talk now. He just wanted to hold her. The thought filled her with joy and she hugged him as tightly as she could.
A/N: Stay tuned for more. I’m still working out plot points for the other story along with more one shots that I said I wouldn’t write
Author: Faline
Summary: This is a different take on the last scene with Beck. His men decide not to support him and he’s taken in to custody. This is the story of what follows:
A/N: NOT a companion to any other story. Just a plot bunny that’ll get fleshed out plenty in the coming days.
Some days you just want to shout
For joy!
Because a new day has come, throwing happiness in its wake.
Some days, Heather woke up from a cold sweat, still hearing Beck’s voice in her mind. Not loud or screaming, but calm and patient. Telling her that everything would be okay.
Eventually.
She could see the look in his eyes of defeat and the lost hope of a hundred things that would never be now.
Some nights, Heather is haunted by that look.
And she can’t sleep, instead tossing in her bed until the sun rises and she goes over to the Green house to rouse Emily out of sleep with a fragrant cup of coffee.
On those mornings, she likes to wait until Jake is up first, so she can spend quiet minutes talking with the man she had contemplated throwing herself at. Scratch that. HAD thrown herself at.
The days between then and now though were long and worn thin with fighting and death.
Neither of them were of the mindset that it was a good idea to bring up, mostly because there were other things to deal with.
Like Emily’s impending childbirth. And the war.
Four years the planes had flown overhead and the world had shaken violently with bombings. Four years Heather had scraped together life from her small garden and canned combined vegetables with the other families that had stuck around. Endless mornings spent repairing vehicles damaged by the AS and fixing the houses that were stripped in the previous weeks.
Four years and Heather had gone to sleep every night with haunted brown eyes floating in her vision.
She couldn’t imagine what prompted her to hang on to Beck for so long, other than the fact that he had been unobtainable and would forever remain in her memory as unobtainable. They had never so much as touched in a fashion unbecoming a liaison and Major. That left more than enough room for her fantasies.
Sometimes she wished she had at least as the guts to kiss him before they’d dragged him away to what surely must have been his death. He had smiled at her, disheartened, and she had the feeling he wouldn’t have complained too much. Wouldn’t have been able to at any rate.
Heather sighed deeply and tossed the hair out of her eyes. Her gaze swept the road in front of her and she tried her hardest not to feel even more downtrodden than before, if possible. Her hand rose, blocking the bright sunshine and she moved into the shade of a surviving maple tree before lowering her arm.
The AS had rolled through here, months ago before the war had officially ended, tearing up anything they could reach without fear of being shot. They had avoided Jericho proper, learning that they could raze the buildings to the ground but they’d be hard pressed to actually kill anyone with how resourceful the people were.
So, they’d stopped bombing main street a few years back. Didn’t mean they stopped razing outlying farms and destroying the roads as much as possible. From the damage she could see, Heather estimated this road was toast, its concrete cracked in multiple place and its foundation slipping.
Pulling out her notebook, she made a mention of it and continued her walk. It was pleasant; July and a cool morning at that. She had volunteered to walk the outer edge of Jericho for two reasons. One, because she loved to be outdoors, and two, because she wanted to see what had happened to the old military installment that had been outside of town. She hadn’t been cleared to go that far out of the city limits in years. A lifetime.
With Beck’s defection, his men had informed the higher up and Beck had been taken to Cheyenne. It was a bad day for the city/country. They lost a Major as well as the bomb that proved they’d attacked their own country.
Within 48 hours there were two more battalions in Jericho, daring Jake Green to come home. Daring Hawkins to try and save his own family. They had, of course, but not before the Texans bombed the shit out of the encampment.
The AS had brought back troops twice since then, both times taking heavy casualties from guided missiles that they were fairly powerless to stop.
They stopped sending troops then. Stopped coming through Jericho. Stopped killing townsfolk unlucky enough to be caught outside in a raid. They’d switched to burning farm houses and destroying the roads.
And now in July, with the weather beautiful, but still chilly and getting cloudier, the war was over. The world was safe again from evil corporations and she was still Heather Lisinsky. Former school teacher. Still in love with a dead man. Sometimes still pining for the living one her best friend had married.
At least she still had some fashion sense and knitting skills. The light sweater was a good addition to her outfit. She smiled at the memory of Bill complimenting her on the sweater only a few months back. She’d knitted it from the yarn he’d dug out of an attic somewhere.
His attachment was sweet. And she was beginning to think it wasn’t such a bad idea to want sweet. In the life she had, sweet was safe and a hell of a lot more reliable that reckless or commanding.
The road was gone. There was no way they were saving it. But, there were still farms along the way that she needed to check on.
She started off across the west Miller field, wishing she’d brought some sunglasses at the least. Heather kept her head down, to avoid the sun and to look out for mole holes. She was halfway across the field when she felt the wind pick up. A glance up at the sky told her that she was going to get wet that day.
With a couple acres left to go, Heather made a run for the Miller house, long since abandoned in the general move to town for the farm folks.
She cleared the porch only moments after the first fat drops had started falling and Heather laughed, feeling free for the first time in a long time and glad that she was out of town hall, out of Baileys, and away from a world that was broken.
Her gaze flickered across the view from the porch and she smiled as her laughing ceased. The gentle summer rain would keep it cool, which would keep all the repair work more comfortable.
She was glad, having worked many a too hot hour in the sun on a roof, fixing holes.
She sighed, still feeling very at ease, and turned to open the door. It was unlocked. She pushed the door open, waving away the dust that exploded with the sudden gust of wind echoing through the rooms.
It had been raided, but nothing had been seriously damaged. Her feet found their way to the kitchen and she found an old style pump next to a large cast iron washing tub. She was grateful, having decided that the jug she’d brought with her that morning could use replenishing. She pumped hard, first drawing nothing but gurgles and then thick brown water. Finally it gave way to crystal clear water and her fingers dipped in the liquid, experimenting with the temperature.
It was cool and welcome. She pulled a small plastic cup from her bag and filled it before pulling out her small water testing pack.
’At least all that schooling is paying off in the after world’ she thought wryly, thinking back on an earth science class. Not too long after, she was filling her half empty jug when it was obvious the water was still good enough to drink.
She filled the small cup again and wandered the first floor. The house reminded her of her grandparents’ home. Large and spacious with memories piled in every corner of every room. She could tell this house had once felt that cozy remembrance but with the broken furniture, animal tracks, and dirt it just felt empty now.
She found the fireplace in the next room, the living room. There were still photos of the Miller family on the mantle. She picked up one, wiping the dust from the glass. It was Amanda Miller and her big brother, Phillip. Amanda had been in her class a few years before the bombs. A very quiet girl, she was abnormally smart and always reading.
She never smiled though. Not like the girl in this picture who was on a tire swing with her big brother, holding on for dear life and giggling wildly.
The Amanda Miller that Heather had taught had lost her mom the summer before and was losing her father to a bottle of alcohol. She put the picture down as she pushed down the image of Amanda Miller’s body after a particularly violent bout of bombing last summer.
A creak on the porch made her head whip around and she stood still, waiting. She had a gun, but it was with her pack, on the kitchen table. There was a front door in the way. If she was in danger, she wouldn’t be getting help from that. She glanced around and picked up a leg from a broken table.
The windows were filthy and she couldn’t really see through them. The rain was falling harder now and Heather wondered if it had just been a branch falling.
And the sound came again, this time with an accompanying shadow through the glass. She sucked in her breath and crossed the room quickly, and quietly.
She had her back against the wall next to the doorway leading in to the hall when the door knob turned and the door creaked open. Her breath held, she listened as footsteps entered the hallway and stopped at the door to the living room.
The kitchen was on the other side of the hall, and her pack would be visible to the person immediately. They would know there was someone else inside.
Her fingers gripped the smooth wood tighter and she exhaled silently as the footsteps entered the kitchen. Heather risked a glance, wanting to know what she was facing. She frowned at the size of the man and the unkempt clothing he wore.
A hoodie had protected him from most of the rain and she winced as his fingers found her pack, opening it up. She heard a sigh when he found the snacks she’d packed for the day’s wandering.
He bit viciously into one of her apples and she moved suddenly, not even thinking about it. With a mighty crack, the wood connected solidly with the man’s head from behind and he lurched forward in to the table, the fruit falling from a numb hand.
There was a moment when she was afraid he would straighten back up. His legs locked and he made it halfway facing her before she brought the wood up again, striking solidly against the man’s face.
He crumpled to her feet.
Heather was breathing heavily and panicked. She edged away from him quickly and grabbed her pack, not even bothering with the few food items that had fallen onto the table.
She was at the door when he groaned and Heather fished out her pistol. She popped out the clip quickly, checking that it was full, then slammed it back in and cocked the weapon.
Her sights trained on the crumpled figure, she tried to find her voice but couldn’t. She was still far too shaken from hitting the man.
He drifted in to unconsciousness then, with a final groan and his head hit the floor.
She kept the gun on him a moment longer before sticking it in her waistband. She didn’t want to leave; the rain was coming down in sheets now and she really didn’t want to get her equipment wet.
But, she really couldn’t leave him like that. She couldn’t begin to guess how long the rain would last. She sighed and walked to the living room, her pack getting dropped on the couch and opened. She pulled out a length of rope and walked back in to the kitchen.
Heather approached the body, trying to access the best way to bind him. Both of his arms were lying out in front of him, blocking his face and almost on top of one another.
She pulled the gun out and laid it behind her, within her reach but not his.
She finally saw the man’s face when she pulled his right and top arm to the left to tie them.
The man had obviously seen better days. His hair was long and unkempt and he had a month’s growth of facial hair. There was something familiar about him. Perhaps he’d been from New Bern. She hadn’t seen anyone from that town in at least three years, right after it had been bombed for five days straight. If he was from New Bern though, there was hope left for those she still thought of as friends.
She finished tying quickly and sprang back, not wanting to be any closer to him than necessary. She picked the gun back up and backed away. He was out for the count. There was no way he’d be up and moving any time soon.
Thunder cracked outside and Heather groaned at the sudden sound, startled for a moment. The storm was picking up, stranding her here even longer. She went back to the living room, and her bag. She fished around until she found the long range radio Jake had pressed in to her hands that morning, making her promise to call with any issues.
She pressed the button on the side and spoke in to the microphone. “Jericho, this is Heather. Over.” She waited a few moments, hearing nothing but static before trying again. Again, nothing but static. It was probably just the weather.
Knowing Jake, he’d know that it was the weather too and would send out a search party when she hadn’t checked in at noon, like she’d also promised to do. She checked her watch and frowned. It was only eleven. She had some time.
Resolving that she could at least categorize what the house had, she glanced back at the kitchen, seeing the man was still lying on his side, unconscious. She took her pack, her gun still tucked in her waistband, and headed to the back of the house.
An hour later she’d been through every nook and cranny. She’d found a small supply of dry goods that were probably expired under the stairs in a cupboard that had been overlooked. She had added them to her pile of salvage in the living room with everything else she’d found.
All in all, a good find. Plenty of warmer clothes, which were becoming harder to find as sweaters and coats wore out with use. Even a plentiful supply of blankets and pillows. She couldn’t imagine why they’d been left, either by the AS or anyone else who’d wandered in. Blankets were extremely valuable and having an extra couple of layers usually meant the difference between life and death in the cold of Winter.
She was in the middle of folding the last of the blankets when the radio crackled to life, carrying Jake’s voice. “Heather, this is Jake, over.”
She smiled, relieved, and answered back. “Hey Jake. This is Heather. I’m out at the Miller farm. I got caught in the rain. Over.”
“It’s easing up in town. You should be clear in the next twenty minutes or so. Do you want me to send out some help? Over.”
She glanced at the pile of blankets, then back to the kitchen where the man was still. “Yeah. Send out a truck. We’ve got quite a bit to haul back.”
Heather wasn’t sure why she didn’t mention the man, but she didn’t want Jake to hurry, especially when she had everything under control.
“Roger that. I’ll send someone out momentarily. See you soon. Over and out.”
Her hand dropped the radio back in her pack and she reached for the blanket again when a low groan broke the silence. Her head whipped to the man and saw him stir. His hands rose to his head and he groaned again.
“Relax. You’re fine, but you’re not going anywhere.”
Heather grabbed her jug of water and her cup, filling it before coming over to the man. She wasn’t concerned for her life; she’d had plenty of practice at self defense. She just didn’t want to be stuck in a house with a crazy on the loose. The man raised his head at her voice and his eyes widened.
She knelt next to him and handed him the cup, expecting a thanks or for him to take it at least. Instead he stared, brown eyes full of wonder. “Heather?”
Heather frowned. He did sound really familiar too. Like he’d come as a ghost from her past. But the voice was gravely and desolate. She didn’t recognize him. “You’re from New Bern, aren’t you? You look so familiar.”
She pushed the cup on him again, letting him drink deeply before refilling it. She added a couple of pain killers she’d found in a cabinet as well, letting him take them from her hand before the cup.
“How’d you get all the way here without going through Jericho first? You’d have to have walked at least thirty miles out of your way.”
The man coughed, taking in too much water at one. She pulled the cup back and sat on her heels in front of him. He was looking at her evenly, and there was something in his eyes that pulled on Heather’s memory. Something forbidden, yet innocent. The yearning for a better life, a different place in a different world.
She gasped as realization washed over her and the man said her name again.
With unbelieving joy Heather’s mouth dropped open and she struggled to form words. This man, this ragged human who’d seen too much of the world had transformed in to Edward Beck. He smiled at her softly before reaching his tied hands toward her and she fell in to him, not caring about the dirty clothes or the filthy floor.
She tried to form the words, buried against his chest, but couldn’t find a sound in her throat. He squirmed underneath her and she leaned back, her hands quickly untying his. As soon as they were free of the bonds, Beck’s arms were around her and he was sitting up and squeezing her to his body.
”Heather.”
She was crying and grinning and unable to hold back the happiness, the unknown relief in her heart, for finding him again. He pushed her away, just to look at her and she looked back, amazed that she hadn’t recognized him immediately.
The years were long though, and the memory of this man had never had any room for someone who looked so broken and defeated. Her hand cupped his cheek, and his own framed her face.
The two were quiet, neither wanting to break this dream. Both thinking of the last time they’d seen each other, the future that seemed to maybe have a place for them and the violent departure from that idea.
They came together again, her face pulled to his chest once more and great sobs of relief racked her body. “How? How are you still alive?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Heather knew he didn’t want to talk now. He just wanted to hold her. The thought filled her with joy and she hugged him as tightly as she could.
A/N: Stay tuned for more. I’m still working out plot points for the other story along with more one shots that I said I wouldn’t write