Chapter 1: January 1885
Chapter Text
“They just left him there?”
“This is more than a simple horse trample.”
“We will need help, have to go further out west, towards California.”
“That's out of our territory.”
“I know a guy, Wildfire, he’s in the Golden Warriors. He…would help...me…”
“Jeremy.”
“What happened?”
“Is this Pretty Boy?”
Everything hurt. His eyes stung, from dirt , he thought. Something gentle tried to wipe his face, but Jean thrashed away. He would not be lulled into more danger. A frustrated sigh that Jean did not recognize puffed out, and Jean froze in fear. Did Riko finally decide to make true his threat to sell him to a lawman? He did not have to think about it long, though, because his body fell into a bruising sleep almost as soon as the thought finished.
~
Trois had bucked him off, scared by Riko’s gunshot that was too close to the mare’s ears. Jean remembered trying to calm her down, but she lifted off her front legs without a second thought to Jean on her back. When he had groaned in pain, body scraped from landing on the hard dirt from a 15-hand paso fino. Riko did not like that, and spurred Raven to begin a cantor. Right towards where Jean was still recovering. He remembered trying to spare his head, curling in on himself. He knew that Riko would not pull his horse, even if this was the 3rd Raven in two years. Impact hit Jean and he could not tell if the crunch he heard was his own bones or the horses. Pain overshadowed his senses. Until the gunshot. He heard the gunshot loud and clear. There was nothing but the distinct pull of hair after that.
Until the blinding light of the sun pulled his eyes open, no not the sun, a man, smiling down at him. Bile rushed his throat and he swallowed it down with a sting.
“Howdy, there, Jean Moreau,” His accent did not butcher his last name, like so many Americans had done so. It warmed some of his wounds. Before he shoved it out of his mind. Jean closed his eyes again, and let this strangely familiar man disappear behind his eyelids.
It was a different voice that woke him this time, slightly raspy, but warm nonetheless. He cracked open his once again crusted eyes. It was a woman, her curly brown hair in some sort of updo where half was tumbling down her shoulders. Her skin was brown, and glowed from a recent excursion out in the sun. She showed him the wet cloth, and indicated his eyes, and Jean frowned, but let her wipe the sand crusted on his lashes off.
“It will probably be a few days before all the dirt gets out, so…” Her accent was lighter than the man’s. More eastern than the heavy drawl he had. The kindness that he could feel emanating through her calculating stare was interesting.
A knock at the door startled him, and the flare of pain from his broken bones forced his teeth to clench. On the way to the door, the woman through over her shoulder,
“I’m Laila. Jeremy was the one you met earlier. Cat will be down sometime soon.”
He was given no warning to the sight that beheld him when the door opened and Kevin Day sauntered in. His eyes were blazing, and Jean’s eyes subconsciously tracked down his stupidly beautiful body. He was covered in loose dirt, which was odd, because as much as Kevin was a brilliant cowboy, he was decently vain.
Jean turned around, refusing to say anything, except for the audible wincing that escaped his mouth when he twinged his broken ribs. Kevin’s footsteps were familiar as his own, and then a new hit of a betrayal, scraping along his raw and bleeding heart.
“You’ll heal up here. And the Golden Warriors have offered you a place in their posse, on behalf of your riding skills.” Kevin drawled, and Jean refused to even move.
But Kevin knew him, unfortunately, and did not let up. He walked around to the small cot that Jean was lying on, and squatted down.
“The Foxes would take you, but…”
“I would rather die than work with you law-authorized fools. Even if the sheriff is willingly looking the other way, I will not obey.”
“I know. Which is why you are here instead. You promised. This is that promise.”
“Fuck you. I hate you.”
Kevin did nothing but rise to his full height. He tapped his heart twice with his fingers before resting it on one of the only unbandaged swatches of skin on his collarbone.
“Live, Jean. You might even enjoy it.”
Jean swallowed down his anger, and let it simmer under his skin instead. Once the door shut, he was overtaken with exhaustion and let it take over.
The man named Jeremy was the one who cleaned out his eyes the next time he woke, and for the few beats of silence, he ruminated on how the blond cowboy was somehow familiar, but it was lost somewhere in aches and painful memories.
“Welcome to the Golden Warriors, Jean. Lucky to have you, I’m sure. Once you’re up and about, we can go over everything, but for now, all you have to do is get better.”
It was a true moment of weakness, Jean thought, that he would agree to anything this man said, as long as he smiled at him again.
“Your horse is here. She won’t calm down for anyone, but our doctor thinks she’s injured,” He stopped when Jean tried to get up, cursing his stiff and uncooperative limbs, and Jeremy gently pushed him back onto the bed, before continuing, trying to reassure Jean.
“It's not serious, I promise. But he wants to make sure it isn’t hurting her too much and when you can walk, you can see her. And when you see her, she can get healed.”
Jean’s breath stuttered in his lungs. He thought Riko would kill her. The master would have surely put her down. But if she was here… maybe he could stay. If Trois liked it. He would stay for her. He would heal so he could help her. That was his number one priority.
Chapter 2: January 1885
Summary:
Jean receives a visitor from his past, and has a crisis.
Chapter Text
This time, when Jean woke, he was all alone. It was a shock, that combined with the absence of grit in between his blinks almost forced a sigh of tortured relief. He began to take an actual inventory of all his injuries: four cracked and two bruised ribs, his left leg was broken, along with a sprain in his right wrist, all combined with various cuts and bruises. Jean gently touched his neck, and hissed as he touched the sensitive skin, and added to his list. Bruised neck from choking.
When the door opened, he was prepared for the sunny voice of a Jeremy. Instead, the familiar outline of the Angel appeared. Her hair was still multicolored, and her voice was not as familiar as the way she spoke.
“Oh, Jean.” There was a kindness in her, that he knew came from years of pain. Renee sat down on the edge of the bare cot and carefully began to remove and change his bandages.
“What are you…here for?” His voice was raspy, talking as rarely as he had been to the posse surrounding him at all hours.
“To make sure you are healing. And staying put.” She said, wincing at a particularly bad looking gash that Jean looked away from.
“Where are my captors, anyway?” He asked, and she smiled, patting his cheek.
“Out. Needed a babysitter for their grumpy cowboy.”
Jean refused to reply to that, and instead huffed out a short breath. They spent the next few minutes in companionable silence, as she cleaned out a few more of his cuts, and made sure the clean bandages were wrapped correctly.
A ton of noise from outside his small room scared him, and his body jumped and then collapsed in on itself in pain. Renee grasped his hand, and waited for the tension to roll through him. Knocking on the door caused him to tighten his grip on her, but she called out for them to enter before he could recover completely. Jeremy and Cat walked in. He was introduced to the woman a week or so ago, and he catalogued the slight differences between then and now. Her short black hair was up, out of her face, and her eyes were narrowed in concern. A yellow bandana was still tied around her face, and her dark skin was sheened in sweat. He immediately regretted his decision to look over at Jeremy next, who was beautiful. His bandana had been hastily pushed up, leaving his hair away from his face and messy. His skin shone with freckles and sweat, and the checkered shirt he wore was torn right through the left side.
Renee read the concern and stood up, but Jean did not want to let go. She held on, and it was Jean who asked,
“What happened?”
Jeremy cringed, and Cat sat down on the floor, seemingly in exhaustion.
“Set up. We were marking the ends of one of our mines, and there was an ambush. Deck of cards, seemingly without The Cheat. We need to know how.”
Jeremy palmed the open side of his shirt, and winced at her accusing tone, before interrupting,
“We do not think it was Jean’s fault,” He said, primarily to Renee’s protective stance,
“But we do think it has to do with him. The horses had the brands, 26 and 12.”
Jean felt the bile course through his throat, and only had a second to warn Renee, before a metal can was shoved underneath his face, and he wretched up the small bit of oats he was given to eat today. It continued until his throat burned with acid and nothing came up, and he came to meet the brown eyes of Jeremy, who was both holding the bucket and patting his back.
“I assume those numbers mean something to you?”
“...I cannot…not about them…please…” He whispered out, loud enough only for Jeremy to hear. He felt rather than saw the nod the man gave.
“Okay. Not today.” Jeremy moved off from Jean and winced in pain, and Jean noticed fully the cut that was slashed into his skin. He thought it was just the shirt, and Jean felt too much worry to not grab Jeremy back,
“You are hurt.”
“I’m okay. Let’s focus on you healing up.” He said, but stilled in Jean’s grasp. He pointed to the table with his non-sprained hand, covered in fresh bandages and oil to seal the wound. Jeremy nodded, and Jean let go. He was also suddenly exhausted, and felt his eyes start to close, even if he tried to blink them open. Renee came and helped him back underneath the sheet, and left him with a gentle kiss on his forehead, before smoothing his hair down and leaving.
It took a few more minutes for the other two to leave, Jeremy allowing Cat to quickly tape the bandage on his shallow wound, under the slightly heavy and tired gaze of Jean’s scrutiny. Cat left and then it was only Jeremy and him. Sleep was overtaking his mind, and all Jean could see was the relaxed line of Jeremy's shoulders as he sat down with his back to the bed that Jean was on.
A brief second, of feeling safe with him here, passed through the wounded man, but Jean was asleep the next moment, and his mind rewarded him with an absence of his usual nightmares.
Waking up a few hours later to a sleeping Jeremy, with his head tipped back onto the mattress, snoring lightly. Jean took a moment to observe the cowboy at rest, before he was forced to wake up completely. With a too dry mouth and stiff limbs from not moving, Jean took his time trying not to jostle Jeremy’s head as he made his way up and out of his bed to the connected water closet. He was briefly proud of his ability to not wake the man, when he walked back into the room and saw him still there, legs curled up and his arms wrapped around himself. As he limped back to bed, he stopped at the window, moving the blinds to see the bright moon illuminating the plains before him. It was weirdly calming, the absence of trees. Breathing in and out, through the aches and pain, he saw a small reflecting object on his table. He sat down and stretched for it. It was a necklace. A cross. One Renee had been wearing. It came with a letter, folded up and wedged under the unlit candle holder.
Jean,
I had to go, business calls, but I wanted you to have something that helped me get through the worst of it. You do not have to believe in God, but the familiar metal and feel might remind you of a potential to get to live a better life. I look forward to hearing from you in your next letter. Perhaps you will find more things to root for yourself for.
Much love,
Renee.
He could not clasp the necklace around his own neck, and cursed his clumsy aching fingers before Jeremy’s voice spoke.
“Let me help you,”
Jean did not speak, but placed the necklace in the open palm. Warm fingers grazed the skin on the back of his neck, and Jean barely repressed a shiver that would have revealed too much. Realistically, Jean knew it was only a few moments, less than a second for Jeremy to finish the task and walk away, but his heart thumped accusingly for far too long after the touch had faded.
“You should go back to sleep. If the doctor clears you in the morning, we can go to the stables tomorrow.” Jeremy said, and Jean turned to find him already by the closed door.
“What if I sleep and the nightmares return?” He whispered, hoping Jeremy did not hear it, but the man was too observant and it paused Jeremy’s twisting of the knob.
“Did it help? Me here with you at night?” He asked, equally quiet, and Jean nodded, shamefully, but those dreams of Riko, and knowing now that Grayson and Zane were searching for him, working together even with what the Cheat had forced them to do.
“We can’t fit another bed in here, but maybe we could add this one to my room. It’s bigger at least.” Jeremy said, more like a question than anything else. Jean had no possessions here, except for the new cross and his own ripped and bloody clothing he was wearing when transported.
“Okay.” Jean whispered, and Jeremy nodded, absolute.
“Tonight, I’ll stay here, then.”
There were a few minutes of struggle as Jean heaved himself back into a comfortable sleeping position, and Jeremy sat down on the lone chair.
“Goodnight,” Jeremy told Jean, and it was like a spell was put on him, as his eyes closed and he fell into a darker sleep. If he had any nightmares that night, he felt Jeremy would scare them away.
Chapter Text
Golden dawn streamed into the house, and Jeremy smiled at the horses dutifully grazing the grass that grew in the padlock. They were lucky, able to have this house, safe from the law’s grasp. Safe from his own family’s grasp. Although with everything they requested from him, he knew it would only be a matter of time before his chosen family would be torn from him. Jeremy hoped and knew, ultimately it would only be him that would be destroyed.
He pasted on a smile, when he heard slow and steady steps close in on him. The injured cowboy was making slow, but steady progress in healing. But Jeremy would make good on his promise, and show Jean to his horse today. The man was dressed in his newly mended clothes, courtesy of Laila. He seemed slightly more comfortable in them than he did wearing any of theirs. Jeremy was glad they were able to get all the blood stains out, and glad to see the man scowling in front of him.
Jeremy was determined to make the stubborn man show more emotion than he had in the last few weeks. The sun gleamed onto the man’s pale skin and for a moment, Jeremy was awed with his beauty. He shoved the reaction down. Unfortunately for him, the man was exactly the type of man that Jeremy would lose himself in. But the cowboy was injured, and had flinched away from anyone’s touch, only allowing a few people to change his bandages; getting through the situation with a tight grip on his own forearm.
“Will you take me to Trois, now?”
“Yep. Your horse’s name is Trois? That is a number, right?”
Jean looked sickened at the question, and instead of answering immediately, he swallowed hard,
“Only Riko had permission to name his horse. The m…We were given our horses based on our rank.”
“Well, you’re not a part of his posse anymore. If you want to rename her, you can. Although it would probably have to be one syllable, to not confuse her too much,” Jeremy told him, and he caught the look of panic before he turned.
“Stable is out this way,” Jeremy said in lieu of trying to dig further into the trauma that permeated the man. It was slow going with an injured Jean, and the sun had officially begun to rise by the time he unlocked the double doors. He led him through the stalls, naming each one as they passed. When they got to Moo, Jeremy fished an apple from his leather chaps, and stopped to feed it to her.
Jean paused along with him, even though he seemed anxious to get to Trois, and observed Jeremy’s horse. She was beautiful. His appaloosa was covered in white and black spots, and her slightly shorter stature at 14 and a half hands, made her more cow like than horse. She munched the apple gratefully, before snickering lightly, nuzzling into his shoulder with a hearty push. He patted the side of her face and moved away, leading Jean to the larger stall they usually use for Koda, Cody’s mustang with a propensity for bullying the other horses for their food. He had been moved to the outdoor pasture, and Trois moving in had taken both muscles, Derek and Derrick.
The moment the horse and man saw each other, it was like the tension dissolved from their shoulders. Jeremy stepped back, intent on observing, as Jean opened the door and stepped in. Trois immediately reared up, and Jeremy lunged for the door, grabbing Jean by his shirt and yanking him backwards. They both fell, Jean’s surprise causing his body to turn into dead-weight. Jeremy’s “Oof” was struck out of him, and they landed on the floor. It took a second for their limbs to cooperate, but Jean steadied himself by turning around. They were now face to face on the floor, gray eyes meeting his for a second before Jean shoved himself off and to the side.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, I didn’t want you to get injured again. More.” Jeremy apologized, as he rose and stuck out his hand for Jean to take. The face of hurt that adorned Jean’s face was obvious to see, and it took a few seconds for him to process the offering. When they were both upright, and only slightly more dusty than when they arrived, Jeremy hummed while looking back at the horse.
Trois nickered and whinnied before stomping harshly on the hay on the ground. She had crowded herself into a corner, and her ears pinned back warned him of her anxiety. He glanced around for something, and spotted a small bag of cookies left here by one of their members. Jean had tucked into himself, unsure what to do now that his horse had reacted negatively to him, and sadness was etched into the lines on his face. Jeremy grabbed two cookies and handed one to a yielding Jean, before holding out his palm flat with the small treat. He stood at the open door, and waited. Jean was eyeing him warily, but didn’t say anything to stop him. Trois began to carefully stomp her way over, using her own pair of wary eyes to watch Jeremy.
When she chomped down on the cookie, and stayed in the center of the stall, Jeremy reached for Jean’s hand, pulling it slowly towards him. Jean took the instruction and laid out the cookie, and Trois, slowly, took it off his palm without a flinch. Jeremy heard the sigh of relief that seemed to shatter out of Jean.
“She has been around too many strangers, and couldn't recognize you yet.” As Jean brought his hand up to pet Trois’ head, and she let him, Jeremy whispered to him and backed out of the stall.
“Thank you.” Jean replied, the only thing he had said since they had entered the stable. Jeremy left him to re-bond with his horse, and went to tack up Moo.
Notes:
The only horse knowledge I have is from my limited summer camp for horse back riding over 10 years ago now, so it is probably incorrect.
Chapter Text
It was easier to convince Jean to come on a short ride than it was convincing him to eat and sleep proper. It had also taken the better part of a week to reacclimatize Trois and Jean, in which Jeremy took several different tries at renaming the mare. Most names earned a withering glare, which made Jeremy have to fight back a smile. Unfortunately, he failed several times, especially after suggesting Denim, when Jean went on a small rant; in French, where Jeremy could feel his smile widening as he looked at the serious man. It was an amusing image, how tall Jean was, carefully brushing out his horse’s mane, while monologuing in French.
A small cough interrupted Jeremy’s ogling, and he whipped his head to see Xavier standing there. Jeremy carefully tapped Jean’s shoulder, and gestured to the short man.
“This here is Xavier. Our fastest rider, and part of our Floozies.” He introduced, and stepped back into the hall to not crowd Trois. Xavier leaned over the stall and they had a short conversation. Jeremy let the words fall without listening in, taking a second to remember his rules. He forced a deep breath, and Xavier turned with a smile. As he passed by, he stopped and whispered to Jeremy,
“I like him. Can we keep him?”
“I’m workin’ on it.” Jeremy said, and with a nod and a pat on his back, Xavier left the two of them to their tacking. Moo had been ready; Jeremy had tackled him first while letting Jean give treats and pets to Trois. He neighed impatiently, and Jeremy snickered, patting his head,
“Soon, boy. I promise.”
He went to heft the borrowed tack, one he traded a dinner with his family for, and hoped that his eyed measurements were good enough. The saddle and blankets were a heavy reminder of what he needed to sacrifice to get on good enough grace to be given a longer leash–one that didn’t choke him if he knowingly, to the Wilshires at least, wandered outside the boundaries. It thudded on the wooden separator and jolted it out of his head.
“These should fit.” Jeremy declared, and Jean sent him a look that was too drenched in his unknown history for him to read easily. There was something about the way his gray eyes trapped Jeremy’s soul; something he would give up to the taller man with only the few weeks they’ve known each other. He watched Jean tack his mare up, and when he finished, the look he gave Jeremy was full of a satisfied hunger. It made his knees shake with the lurch of want that collided with the heady gaze. He shook his head, attempting to dislodge the thoughts with a smile, more at his own ridiculous behavior than feeling any sort of happiness.
They lead the two horses out of the stable, Trois seemingly okay with trotting aside Moo, as long as there were cookies to munch on. As the two did so, another pair of people emerged from one of the padlocks, with their own ropes around their horses. Cat and Laila, two of his favorite people, had probably been practicing bareback horse riding, but with the disheveled state of their clothes, he worried he would get an earful of what they determined to be insufficient sneaking off areas in the southern part of their home. Jean seemed to lose a slight bit of tension as he spotted the two women, and Jeremy’s insides melted in a smug sort of happiness.
When the four came to an intersection, Moo seemed to sense Trois’s own anxiety starting to ramp up, and leaned slightly into her side, nipping gently at her short fur. Jeremy put the act in his brain to remind him to give him some extra loving and treats later. Laila met his eyes with a knowing expression. Beside him, Cat had drawn close to Jean, and was quietly laughing at something he had said, but as she went to tousle his hair, Jeremy turned just in time to grab Jean back from his instinctual rearing, pushing Jean’s ready fist into his shoulder, surprise dampening the impact.
They all stilled, and for a moment, it looked as Jean was going to bolt. He hung his head before speaking, his voice monotone and bland.
“I accept the return punishment. I should not have reacted that way.”
“Jean, what are you talkin’ about?” Cat said, her voice kind, only slightly prying.
“I hit you. I can take a hit. I am not weak.” He seemed to growl out the last sentence, and Jeremy carefully, and slowly, tapped his chin to get the taller man to look him in the eyes.
“There was no actual hit, and even if there had been, you just need to apologize and learn. We do not give retribution, here, Jean.”
That seemed to push the rest of the anxiety from the hidden spots in his body to the surface, and for a moment Jeremy tensed, worried he was going to have to catch a fainting Jean. He grabbed Trois’ reins instead, and walked away from the group. Laila caught his arm when he went to follow, and Cat shook her head at him, placing Rifle’s rope lead into Jeremy’s hand before going over to Jean herself.
“Two things. One, you are in so deep with our pretty guest, and two, the rail goes through Wilshire property. You cannot come.” She gave the news without hesitation, even when Jeremy cringed at the first half of her sentence and visibly sighed for the second.
“He’s been through so much. I am not addin’ anything to the pile of stuff he has to work through. And all right, I’ll be good and distract the family with an appearance. I owe them one anyway.”
“I wish you didn’t endanger yourself like this, Jere, going home so often.”
He hummed in response, but he was saved from defending his decisions with reasons she already knew too well, with Cat arriving back.
“Enjoy your hike. I will take him off your back when you're done, I want to teach him to cook.”
Jeremy nodded, and mounted Moo with an ease of years of familiarity. He watched Jean do the same, and noticed the brand that matched Jean’s tattoo for the first time. The roman numerals were scarred onto the horse’s flank, and Jeremy was surprised he hadn't seen or at least felt it. He had known the cheat branded his horses, it was obvious as it was disheartening to see how badly done it was. There were ways to make it less painful, but it seemed the horse got no consideration of those. He applied the same thought to Jean, who murmured something in French to his horse’s ear. Things had happened to him in that posse, and they were as lasting and painful as the tattoo emblazoned on his cheekbone.
As Jean made careful eye contact with Jeremy, he could feel those steely eyes, and for a moment, with the image of Jean sitting tall on his beautiful blue horse, he almost believed he was one of the horsemen; there to steal him away from his life.
Jeremy smiled, hoping it and the brightness of the sun covered the blush he knew was darkening his cheeks. He kicked Moo into a trot and caught up with Jean and Trois.
“I have the perfect name. Blue.”
Jean paused, before saying it again with his accent,
“Bleu…”
His mare yawned, with a head movement that seemed to be in agreement, and with that Jeremy could see the beginnings of a smile grace the edges of Jean’s mouth. Jean nodded at Jeremy, and the two trotted off down one of the more trodden paths, just letting their horses choose their own pace.
A small pond appeared after an hour or so, and the two men descended to let the horses drink and graze the surrounding grass. Jeremy pulled out a blanket from his saddle bag and spread it out, before kicking off his boots to relax on top. He only had to wait a moment before Jean joined him, scrunching a little to fit on the slightly shorter blanket. He massaged his injured leg, lightly and clearly unconsciously. Jeremy turned on his side to face him, and built up his courage enough to ask a question that was bothering him,
“Can I ask you something?”
Jean paused, laid down beside him and nodded, his eyes a bit guarded and cloudy.
“You don’t like being alone, is there something from your prior…affiliation…that made you dislike being alone?”
Jean answered after a second,
“No, it was a partner system. My partner was Zane, ‘Brawn’, and your successes were theirs, your failures were theirs as well. It was for accountability. I dislike being alone, as it does not come naturally to me.”
“When did you join the group?”
“I was fourteen.”
Jeremy felt his eyes bulge in shock. He had been so young.
“What happened to you, Jean?”
Jeremy did not get an answer to that, and instead got Jean rolling to his back to watch the clouds.
“Could I be your partner then? I want you to succeed here, Jean. With us.”
This time, the Frenchman did answer,
“It would be foolish, as my faults combined with the blind optimism of this posse will surely fail.”
Jeremy huffed a laugh, but waited for a real answer.
“Yes, fine. That would work.”
The two settled into silence, the horses munching around their heads and the wind breezing through the water made Jeremy contemplate the serenity surrounding them.
“If I am to be your partner, than I have a question for you,”
“Ask away, shoot,”
“You are a leader of a posse, and the son of famous lawmen. Why?”
Jeremy flung his arm over his face, blocking his eyes from seeking out Jean in his never ending search for forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.
“I didn’t know you knew that.”
Jean was silent, but Jeremy could imagine the facial expression., It made him smile, quickly, before taking a breath, ready to give him the condensed version, what he had told everyone who wasn’t there in the beginning.
He didn’t realize he was going to start with the truth when he started talking, but Jean’s oddly sturdy presence gave him more strength than he thought.
“It is…complicated. My family technically owns this land, and in return to being someone who no longer makes the news, I get to do what I want. The Golden Warriors, it wasn’t mine when I joined, needing a quiet rebellion. It turned into something bigger. I am good at this. And we don’t take from people who need it. Whatever we take that doesn’t get put back into our horses or food, goes into the nearby towns.”
“What put you in the news?”
“I can’t…talk about that with you, yet. Okay? Give me time to gather the courage.”
Light blinded Jeremy for a second before he realized that Jean had rolled over and pulled his arm off of his face. Jeremy swallowed, noticing that Jean’s palms were splayed on the side of his head, keeping his weight off, but it did nothing to minimize the rumbling of desire that immediately pooled in his stomach. He held Jeremy’s chin with one hand as he talked, and it did nothing to help his soon to be an issue, if Jean stayed over him like this for much longer,
“You are too kind to be this sad,”
Jeremy sputtered out a laugh, startling newly adorned Bleu into a whinny. Jean rolled back down to his side and they relapsed into silence.
By the time Jeremy’s stomach growled in hunger, the two were packing up the blanket and prepping the horses for the ride back. Jeremy spoke about inane topics, ranging from how he got Moo, to some of the hi-jinx Derek and Derrick had pulled in the past. Jean didn’t ask him to stop talking, so he assumed it amused him, and kept going.
Once they entered back into the view of the stables, Cat was already there, intent on stealing Jean away as soon as he untacked and put everything away. With a promise that dinner will be soon, Jeremy wandered out with both Moo and Bleu to the smaller padlock attached to the stable, and let them roam the area together. He was glad at that moment that Moo was a ridgling, and Bleu wouldn’t be in danger of mothering a foal. He would have to ask Jean her age and if she had had a foal before.
He watched them play for a moment, before heading to the house to steal food from Cat and Jean as they cooked.
A phonograph, his last gift to the women, was blaring some music he couldn’t remember the name of, and he settled into the kitchen as Cat danced and taught Jean at the same time.
Laila placed a kiss on the top of his head, and sat down next to him, affection shone. He had to believe that this new partnership with Jean was for the best, he would be his success story. No matter what. Jeremy sighed in contentment when a mug of coffee was slid over to him, and he drank it, but not before he noticed Jean’s ears darkening with a blush at the accidental noise Jeremy made. Jeremy made a note to forget that, but he had already memorized every part of Jean’s face with ease. This new feature was no different.
This moment in time was going to be worth all the strife he would go through with his family, he knew it. He knew Jean was going to be important, and that from this instant, he would give anything to the brooding french cowboy. Jeremy laughed at something Laila said, watched Jean relax infinitesimally as he cooked, and sank into the comfort all around him.
Notes:
A ridgling is a male horse with undescended testicles; so they are infertile.
Chapter 5: May 1885
Chapter Text
The thunder cracked across the open ending sky, and Jean flinched. It was still light out, so when the lightning hit the patch of ground and burst into sparks, Jean could see every angle. He stood on the wraparound porch, anxious, waiting for Jeremy and Laila to ride back from visiting his family. On one hand, Jean was strangely missing the sunny man who had been by his side during the recovery and on the other, he had picked up enough bits and pieces about the tension that exists between Jeremy and the rest of the Wiltshire family.
He knew there was some sort of deal made, where Jeremy was allowed to live on the land in exchange for something Jean had not learned yet, with Jeremy artfully dodging the issues, only having to deal with Jean’s own. The payment seemed to be consistently draining Jeremy’s life. The creak of the door behind him was his warning that someone had come out to either join or condemn him.
Cody’s voice had to be extra loud over the sound of the storm, as he came to stand beside him.
“They can’t come back in this storm; and Cat wants your help in the kitchen.”
Jean looked out once again at the open plains, looking for any glimpse of two riders. He knew it was idiotic to want to see them, it was dangerous as all hell to ride during a thunder and lightning storm. Jeremy would not endanger Laila, and never Moo or Coyote.
He looked over at the shorter person beside him, and his eyes were drawn to the bright red that adorned their hair. It was impressive if not a bad decision for a group of people who continuously break the law. Jean reached for his own neck, needing the sharp jolt of pain to move him from his position. Cody watched with an analyzing gaze., but Jean moved inside before they could admonish him for his habits. With only a hearty sigh, they followed Jean in, and both ended in the kitchen to a restless Cat.
The record playing was not familiar, but music was not allowed in the nest, so he did not worry about listening to it with any concentration. Cat saw him and grimaced, and he felt that they were anxious over similar reasons. The questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down. She handed him a cutting board and knife, before quickly showing him how to peel and slice the potatoes she was adding to the stew.
Cody snuck a piece of biscuit dough before absconding with the food to a back room. Cat let them go without any ado, focusing hard on explaining the steps to Jean as she went.
It was late when the door creaked open to his and Jeremy’s bedroom, and a soaking wet Jeremy tip toed in, assuming that Jean was asleep.
“Did you ride in the rain?”
It startled Jeremy, and he jumped, putting a hand to his heart in shock, before registering that Jean had been sitting on his cot, in the dark.
“Were you waiting up for me?”
“You did not return when you said you would. I knew the storm would delay the travel.”
Jean watched Jeremy run his hand through the sodden hair that was dripping onto his wet shoulders.
“We were stuck for the storm, but once it let up the lightning and thunder, we were able to get through it.” He moved around the beds to the small drawer set where Jeremy’s clothes sat. Jean’s own smaller collection was shoved under his bed in a rucksack. Everyone had tried to convince him to place the clothes somewhere more permanent, but Jean knew that one day he would not be tolerated to stay. It is what happened in France, and from his former posse.
Jeremy pulled out a dry nightshirt, and began to undress. Jean was used to being around nakedness, the nest never allowed for much privacy, but for some reason, the sight of his bare skin, the little light of the moonlight through the curtains gave Jean the view of Jeremy’s muscled thighs, broad shoulders, straining slightly as he stretched out his arms and lifted them above his head to pull the nightshirt on. It was only seconds, but time stretched for Jean. He needed to look away, he knew that this would get him in trouble, that appreciating him was against the rules.
“Did you take Bleu out today?” Jeremy asked, and Jean shook his head slightly to clear the image of Jeremy’s sinew body stretching over and under him.
“No, but I let her out in the padlock with Remington. They get along well.”
Jeremy hummed in agreement, grabbing a linen to dry his hair before sitting down on his own bed; across from Jean. He could see the slightly haunted look in the man’s eyes, but he did not pry.
“I had a sister.” Jean began, feeling melancholic, but also that if he revealed something familial, Jeremy would be more likely to expunge his experience.
“She was three years younger. Elodie.” Jean’s voice cracked, and Jeremy was quick to reassure him,
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I want to know about yours, they trouble me. You like when I am truthful and tell you things. I presume opening up about her, you will tell me why your family seems intent on draining your life.”
Jeremy snorted, but there was no amusement in it.
“I will tell you,” he took a breath, “tonight. But you are never obligated to share your hurts with me. I will talk because you have opened up.”
Jean nodded, and Jeremy laid down, throwing his arm over his face.
“A few years ago, I was arrested. My family swept it under the rug, bribed the sheriff and other lawmen who had caught me. The other men present did not get my leniency. Their lives were ruined. We were only caught because they were looking for me. To tell me that my brother–Noah, had died. He had…thrown himself onto the train tracks. Didn’t move when the whistle blew. He was only in the area, close to the rails at all because of me. I had told him to wait at the station, and I would come to meet him later that night for us to ride to the city. We were going to visit my other brother, who was doing his schooling there. I was late because I was trapped in a cell.” Jeremy quickly said, hurrying like it physically hurt him to get all out.
Jean observed the deep sadness that was etched over Jeremy’s entire face at these confessions. He waited, in silence, to see if there was anything Jeremy needed to add.
“My family hates me. They blame me for his death, I blame me for his death. But as long as I keep out of the papers and my life is scandal free, at least publicly, then I get to benefit from their riches and pseudo-protection.”
Jeremy laughed, once again without humor.
“They don’t know I’m a part of the Golden Warriors, which started as some rebellion from their rigid rules. It's grown into more now, but if I’m found out; they would lock me in their basement. I just needed something that was just mine.”
Jean could understand that desire. His little treasures that Kevin had given him over the years, presumably gone now, held that for him. His little rebellion.
Jeremy seemed too tired after the confession, and when he pulled the covers up, he shot one more glance at Jean, before turning over and attempting to sleep. Jean followed, his own attempt thwarted by thoughts of a younger Jeremy, arrested and unaware of his brother's demise.
It was a long night, not helped by the restlessness that Jeremy normally displayed, interrupted by nightmares. Jean was not used to being on the other side, watching someone else have terrors, so when Jeremy flinched and grasped the sheets around him with white knuckles, it felt wrong to leave him in this state of suffering.
“Jeremy,” Jean whispered, his hand gentle on the man’s shoulder. Brown eyes opened with a snap, and Jean pretended to not notice the way his eyes softened away from fear when he realized who was waking him up.
“Sorry. Nightmare.” He whispered back, voice raspy and thick. Jean sat back onto his bed, and watched him readjust in futility. He ended up facing Jean, with his hands tucked up by his chin. It was then, when he noticed the bruise that was discoloring a part of his neck. His eyes narrowed in thought, and Jeremy realized where he was looking. Moving the sheets further up, he seemed to hope Jean would not ask.
Jean did not want to not know, but he recognised the state of vulnerability in Jeremy, so he decided to put the question away for a different night. He could ask Cat or Laila, but he blanched at asking them about bruises. He knew that he was always deserving of his punishments, but he could think of nothing Jeremy had done that deserved any physical reaction. Discomfort twisted in his stomach, and he needed to know if Jeremy was going to return from his visits at home with reminders.
Jeremy had been nothing but kind, the Golden Warriors never kept any wealth they stole, and the rest of the floozies have accepted Jean into their crew with nothing but strange looks when he mentioned his previous posse experiences.
The two men stared at each other, in silence, before Jean’s eyes finally turned heavy, and shut on their own accord.
Jean was laying on the floor of the nest, a splintered wooden plank digging uncomfortably into his back. He was shirtless, and Riko was at the entryway, smirking. He lit himself a cigarette, before padding over to Jean’s prone body. He tilted his head, disgust filling his features. Bending down, Riko sneered,
“If you are going to whore yourself out for anyone, whore yourself out with an advantage for me.”
It was the smell of burning flesh that hit him first, never the pain. Riko putting out his cigarette on Jean’s chest, a common enough occurrence that Jean could swallow the sting down. As Riko’s fingers punched down on Jean’s neck, pressing in a random pattern, choking him of air, a new person appeared to his right. Jeremy.
Jean flinched away, and Jeremy’s beautiful face was beaten black and blue, and Riko let go of Jean’s neck to hoist Jeremy’s head up by his hair. The man groaned in such pain it twinged Jean’s heart.
“Useless whores. I have a better idea for what I want you to do to repay me. Kill him and join me in the parlor. I know a few people who would pay a pretty penny for a member of the posse on his knees.”
Riko threw Jeremy down and stormed out, but as Jean tried, he could not get up or move towards the injured cowboy. He had to watch as the man fell into an unconscious sleep.
He woke with sweat on his forehead and the rays of a sunrise warming his cot. His dream, nightmare, was gone from his mind as soon as his breathing recovered. Looking over to Jeremy’s bed, it was empty and unmade, but a mug of coffee sat on the counter along with a golden bandana. The note there was written in Jeremy’s hand,
Good mornin’
We have a scoutin’ mission today, and Bleu and you are invited. Just a quick look around our borders. Come down when you are awake and we can plan our route.
-Jeremy
He sipped the mug and dressed, largely glad that the coffee here was less muddy water, and a more rich dark flavor that Jean enjoyed. Guns were not allowed in the bedrooms, but he knew his Smith and Wesson was hanging with the other floozy’s weapons, so he attached a holster that Cat had given him.
Once he decided his clothes were ready for a day out riding, Jean tied the bandana around his neck and made sure it covered up to his eyes, blocking the three that emblazoned his cheek. Jean had never been able to hide his identity like this before, and it gave him a novel feeling of confidence in his actions. A knock at the door announced someone’s arrival, and Jean looked towards Laila who had entered.
“Good, you are awake. C’mon, Jeremy’s getting restless,” she paused, taking in his look, and smiling.
“Perfect. I knew gold was the color for you.”
He huffed, but followed her down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Jeremy was tapping his foot, with his hands on his hips as he looked admonishingly at the mess that Cody had created during breakfast prep.
“You cook as well as me, why did you…do this?” Jeremy asked, incredulously, and Cody refused to answer, shrugging with a smile on their face.
“Let's get to it!” Cat announced, clapping Cody and Jeremy’s shoulders as she passed, laying a kiss on Laila’s cheek and ruffling Jean’s hair. Jean’s eyes grazed over the bruise, worse in the light, and decided to corner him when Jeremy and him were on the horses. He would not want to startle Bleu with a hasty retreat.
It was easy to sink into the other people’s conversations, even if he did not contribute, and every once in a while, he would check that Jeremy was back to his normal self, but they kept catching each other’s eyes. Jean could never look for too long, distracted by the smile that pulled at Jeremy’s lips every time.
Jean would not break the rules. He could not. He would not.
But as they got ready to go, saddling and bridling and bribing the horses, the sound of Jeremy’s chuckle at whatever Moo had just done, Jean knew that his resolve had to be higher. Or he would break the rules.
Chapter Text
Jean asked as soon as the two of them had trotted slightly apart from the others, separating at the first part of their border, with Jeremy leading Jean and Bleu to the west.
“You are bruised. Who did that to you?”
Jeremy almost pulled Moo up short, startled. His hand came to cover the purpled skin, wincing a bit,
“I didn’t know he did that.”
“Who?”
Jeremy bit his lip, shooting a quick look over at Jean, before seemingly deciding on something. He kicked at Moo’s side lightly to spur him ahead of Jean.
“Someone I was…with… it wasn’t unwanted, Jean.” He said, and Jean wished Jeremy was still looking at him, so he could see if he was lying. It was a few moments of silence before he did in fact turn to see him, offering him a bright smile. Jean spared a glance at the sunny expression before looking down at Bleu’s mane, losing his train of thought.
“I promise. If I was in true danger, I would say something.” Jeremy replied, circling back to bring Moo and him right beside him. His hand was over his heart, and Jean nodded, the sight of Jeremy beside him too earnest for him to doubt him.
They continued, the quiet thumping of their horses’ hooves providing a peaceful soundtrack to the sound of Jeremy’s chatter. It went quickly, most of their patrol, and the sun was just starting its descent as they neared the end of the east end of the Warrior’s territory.
As they neared a funny shaped rock, Jeremy squinted, using his hat to point at the sight of an approaching wagon. He pulled the bandana over his face, and Jean stared down the strangers. His body tensed and for a moment, he was in a different country, about to be on his way to the boat that would separate him from Elodie forever. It was the gentle presence and warmth of Jeremy beside him that forced him back into the present.
Jean watched as the people on the wagon approached, pulling the oxen they had yoked to a stop. Bleu jerked her head unwary of strange animals, and shuffled herself close to Moo. Jeremy laid a comforting hand on her face, and for a moment, Jean wished he was able to receive such basic comforts. Shaking his head, shoving down the feelings that threatened to spill out.
A woman, gruff and world-weary, got off the wagon, her apron strained with blood. Jean flinched. Her eyes flicked to him, the movement too clear, and Jean dug his nails into his forearm from the exposure. Her voice was raspy, but pleading, and addressing Jeremy, she asked,
“Please. My baby was hit by a spare bullet.” Her hands shook, but it seemed more of an after thought, and Jean knew too much about the splatter of blood. As Jeremy nodded, and went to dismount, Jean’s hand shot out to catch his wrist,
“Wait. Something is…” Jean started, but before he could finish, the familiar sound of the peacemakers shooting off caused both horses to rear in fear. Jeremy, already prepared to get off Moo, was unbalanced, and crumpled to the ground, hitting it with a sharp thud. Jean was able to lurch forward and grab Bleu’s mane just in time to catch himself. Whispering gentle words in French helped calm her down, and Jean slid off as soon as her hooves were stable.
Fuck.
There was so much blood.
It covered Jeremy’s white linen shirt, and the man groaned as he attempted to roll out of the way of Moo’s frightened hooves. Jean’s frantic brain did not transfer to his actions, as he hurriedly grabbed Moo’s bridle and brought him away from Jeremy’s prone body. Kneeling down, and rolling over the blond’s body, searching for the wound. Jeremy’s face was still covered, but Jean could see the shock of pain that glazed his pupils. A sharp “Hey!” forced his attention from Jeremy to the woman who had led them into the surprise attack, who threw him a rag and a bottle of gin. At a quickness Jean was not expecting, she picked up her skirts and jolted away, running like her life depended on it. On second thought, it probably did.
Bringing his gaze back onto Jeremy, who was blinking hard and using his own hands to staunch the bleeding. His lips were dry and cracked, but as Jean was able to rip his own shirt off and in half to place pressure at the pulsing wound, he managed a weak smile.
“Clean shot. Through. Stitches.” He rasped out, blood painting the inside of his lips. Jean’s hands were able to heft Jeremy up slightly, and use the other half of his borrowed shirt to staunch the bleeding there too. He agreed with Jeremy’s short conclusion, but before he could do anything with the rag and gin, an unfortunately familiar shadow stood over them. Grayson clicked his teeth, and Jean knew it too well. The sharp feeling of those teeth and the reminder of screaming in his own head forced him to swallow down the bile reaching for his throat.
“I heard you were out here, hustling like a rent boy. Would have paid for you myself if I thought you wouldn’t give it for free. Wanted to send a message from the Cheat.” Grayson said, and kicked at Jeremy, who was able to weakly hold the shirt to his wound, sent him back down. Jean growled and changed his position to cover Jeremy, aware his shirtlessness was something Grayson would latch onto, but whatever time limit that Riko had given him was clearly wearing down on the man, and he wasted no time.
“The Master misses you. And that even if you are protected by the Warriors, you have a debt to pay.” Grayson spits out the message, before twisting a clump of Jean’s hair in his fist, forcing him to lean into his personal space, but Grayson was shoved from below by Jeremy, letting go as he stumbled back.
“You are on my fucking territory, and if I even see a glimpse of your sorry self again, I swear you’ll learn what makes us the most feared in the West.” Jeremy snarled. His teeth gleamed in the near dusk light, a predator warning its prey before it strikes.
Pain had been masked by anger, and Jean could see the small shake in Jeremy’s hands, but it was invisible to Grayson, as he sneered, but walked off. Message delivered. Once they were alone, Jean carefully tugged down the bandana to rest on his neck.
When Jean could move again, a few seconds later, after all the fear and adrenaline from the shot and the confrontation faded slightly, he took another look at Jeremy’s wound. While he had lost a decent amount of blood, the wound was clotting well. Jeremy looked worse for wear, but nothing deadly, nothing like those first few minutes of panic. Retrieving the gin and rag, and a needle and thread from one of their saddle bags, after setting up Jeremy so he was leaning slightly on the weird rock that propped his head up. Jean carefully rolled the rag and placed it into Jeremy’s mouth, ensuring he wouldn’t bite his tongue off from the pain as he got to work. Jeremy had slumped into near unconsciousness, but was cognizant enough to understand what he would have to endure.
The first splash of gin on the wound forced his body to curl up instinctively, a pose Jean knew well.
“Jeremy,” Jean whispered, and that was enough for him to relax, but when Jeremy grabbed his hand to hold, squeezing his fingers close to numbness, Jean did not let go. The next few minutes, of drenching the wound and needle before beginning to stitch it up, were agonizing for Jean in his head, and he assumed from the pain in his fingers and the groans and whimpers of pain that Jeremy was having a worse time.
The last stitch of the thread, and Jean pulled it taut and snapped the end with his teeth before sitting back and examining his work. It was good for a rush job, and for as pale as Jeremy was; it was better than before. He remembered the scars that littered his chest, when Jeremy’s eyes, awake and aware, fell onto a particularly prominent one, the whirls that covered his heart. It was still bright enough to see, and Jean wondered if he was going to have to explain anything.
Surprising him, all Jeremy did was smile, reach out a cautious hand to Jean’s cheek.
“Thank you. You saved my life.” It was too genuine, too full of feelings that Jean was not used to getting. And he felt heat burn the tops of his cheeks in response.
“We might need to camp down for the night; if you cannot move. I do not trust the jostling of you riding Moo towards the house.” Jean said, instead of focusing on the gratitude that permeated from Jeremy.
He nodded, wincing at the slight movement, and looked up to the setting sun, before trying to grab something out of his pocket. Jean slapped his hand away, and Jeremy stilled beneath his hands, as Jean retrieved the pocket watch he had stuffed in his pocket at some point that day, and handed it carefully over.
“It's close to 7:30, and the others will worry if we don’t make it back today. Hopefully, if the boundary was clear for them; they should come look for us.” Jeremy spoke, and Jean nodded, before a chill wind swept over his bare skin.
“A fire would be ideal. The temperature will drop too much, we need to conserve our heat.” He continued, and Jean knew he had brought a fire-striker and flint with him, tucked into Bleu’s saddlebag. He wished he had brought extra clothes, but even Jeremy had not thought that far ahead.
He sat back next to Jeremy on the rock, after lighting the fire close by. Jean knew he had to keep an eye on Jeremy, even if the man was smiling and chatting as if he was in perfect health, his skin was still pale and his body still shook. They had scant food, but Jean had survived on less, and even though Jeremy’s wary glance was worried, Jean figured that even the foolish man would understand he needed more food to recover.
It was then hard to accept the food that Jeremy pushed his way, but the look on his face proved no argument. Jean grumbled out about a feckless man, and only saw out of his periphery the smile that Jeremy had on.
As the night got colder, it was harder to stay further apart from Jeremy, whose skin was slightly feverish, but warm to Jean’s bare chest. It took a futile argument, but Jean finally sunk down to lay down next to Jeremy, who was carefully adjusting his body to not aggravate the gunshot wound as he slept.
Jean rested his head on his arm, watching and making sure the stitches were not torn during the restlessness of his partner shifting on the hard ground. They ended up facing each other, the glow of the fire lighting up the beauty on Jeremy’s face. It was almost impossible to ignore this closeness, how his brown eyes sparkled as the orange light flitted in the wind. Jean forced himself to close his eyes, to not think about the man in front of him.
He woke up pressed close to Jeremy’s chest. Somehow over the night, Jean had curled in on himself, as he knew he did, but Jeremy’s steady weight was new and enticing. His body had returned to a normal temperature, and Jean’s relief was palpable. For the few minutes that Jean fully woke up, he let himself enjoy the feeling of Jeremy’s arm over his waist and heat covering his back. His thoughts were jumbled and confusing, but mostly kept circling around the full refusal to lose Jeremy. He wished it was something different than a pretty face fucking him over, but he knew deep down that Jeremy would eagerly protect him back. It left a taste in his mouth that was not unpleasant, but so odd and strange he wanted to wash his mouth out with alcohol.
When Jeremy finally stirred, he shifted away from Jean, murmuring a soft “sorry” in a sleep filled voice that sent warmth and hunger down his gut. A shadow of two horses blocked the rays of sun that were warming the men up, and Jean looked up to see Cat and Laila, worried, but decidedly amused at the two of them.
“Up and at em, boys, we need an explanation and to head back home before the sun gets to burning your pasty white skin, Jean.” Cat said, her voice curious. He grumbled, but sat up, and a piece of fabric hit his face with an extra power he was not expecting. It was a shirt that he quickly pulled on, before getting up and helping Jeremy up as well.
Laila gasped at the gun shot wound, and was clearly worried, but as Jeremy smiled reassuringly at her, Jeremy waved away their concern.
“It’s a long story. Promise we will say on the way.”
The girls shook their heads, but waited to question them as Jean went and got Moo and Bleu from where they had wandered off to. Jeremy winced and pulled in a rough breath as he mounted Moo, and waited for Jean to do the same with Bleu.
The four made their way slowly, but surely back towards the main house, as Jeremy and Jean were peppered with questions as they explained the ruse that the deck of cards pulled on them. The sight of the building filled Jean with a warmth he was unfamiliar with, something akin to the feeling of home.
Notes:
Sorry for the delay in updating! I've been working on a non AU story for Jerejean that has been taking up my brain power.
Chapter 7: July 1885
Chapter Text
Hands went tight around his neck, and for a moment, Jeremy thought he would black out from the pressure. Instead of pulling away, he leaned into it, his hips thrusting further into the tight heat of Ivan Faser’s body. The man below him groaned, and tightened his hands. Jeremy knew he had a few seconds before his need for oxygen would actually get dire, so he focused on getting Faser off. His hand stroked in time with his thrusts, and knew when he was close, because his head was jostled with a heavy hand wrenching it down. He refrained from rolling his eyes, and bit down on his lip as he finally felt the cool slide of liquid as Faser finished onto his hand and chest.
Jeremy’s neck was released, and he pulled out, using his own hand to finish himself off quickly, and without much thought. If there was a shot of bright gray eyes and pale skin with muscles stretching languidly, Jeremy did his best to not think about it.
Heaving to the side, crashing to the uncomfortable straw bed that The Silver Saddle refused to invest any better bedding in. Faser cleaned himself up, with Jeremy;s discarded shirt, which was another reason he should stop allowing Faser into these rooms. He turned onto his side, bare skin glistening in the low oil lamplight. The clammy fingers of Fader stroked down the scar that puckered on his chest. Jeremy shivered and flinched away, the experience too close to the night that it happened, when Jean had saved him. He watched, silently turning to lay on his back, as Faser dug for his pants, and threw out a handful of bills.
“This should be enough to reserve you for next time.” He said, his voice raspy, and Jeremy nodded, as he thumbed through the $15 dollars.
After a few minutes where Jeremy sank into the bed that was not made for sleeping, he rose, accidentally glancing at the mirror hanging in front of him, and the red outlines of Faser’s hands were starting to bruise in deep shades of purple.
“Fuck.” He whispered to himself, but a knock at the door forced him out of that quiet regret. He had no more appointments, but the man in charge would schedule him for walk-ins, he was usually up for them. The familiar voice of Laila waited at the doors, and with a quick glance to hide anything too vulgar, Jeremy shuffled on his pants, and opened the door to a murderous look when she saw the evidence of violence on his neck. It was scathing, but familiar in its disapproval.
“I think that as unaccepting as Joshua is; he probably shouldn’t be employing you,” she said, her voice harsh, but not for him, for his family.
“It’s fine, I like it. And get to keep the tip money.”
He knew she knew it was more complicated than that. He also knew that him being the only man at the Silver Saddle was more of a money maker than anyone would admit. He had to assume his step-dad was not aware of his brother using him as a forever available rent boy. It would make the deals he held with Sheriff Wilshire taste even more sour than they already did.
“Jean’s getting restless. C’mon.” Laila said, and waited for him to finish dressing in a light linen shirt. It was easy enough to nod a goodbye to the man in charge, and he let the two out into the cool summer air. Jeremy spotted Jean and Bleu, with an already tacked up Moo beside them. He gave a smile, and hoped that the fading light would hide the purpling skin from his protective friend. He decided to look at Moo, instead, to pretend Jean’s eyes were not tracking his entire body.
“We have shooting practice tomorrow morning, but for tonight. I was thinking I could show you a cool trail.” Jeremy said, after mounting Moo and righting his posture.
“Laila and Cat will meet us there.” He continued, and waited for Jean’s ascent, which came from a nod. Since the night he was shot, Jean had been slightly more withdrawn, but less inclined to let Jeremy out of his sight for too long. Jeremy wanted to make sure that Jean didn’t find out about his other proclivities, especially since the taunt that Bootlicker gave to him. It made something in his heart clench, the fear and protectiveness that Jean had shown to him. He hadn’t expected any level of care. Jeremy forced his brain and heart to dislodge the feelings that arose anytime he thought about that night.
With a glance back at Jean, he clacked with his teeth and squeezed his legs around Moo, to get him to start at a trot. He heard the now ever familiar clopping of Bleu behind him, and he took them down the scenic route down towards the beach. It was always a bit overgrown in late summer, so Jeremy made sure to go slow, even though Moo knew the terrain well. He wanted to make sure Bleu was able to get through the shrubbery and loose stones.
Moo threw his head back with an annoyed huff, and Jeremy patted the side of his face, whispering a “I know, boy, but we have to lead the Bleu and Jean there” to his perked ear. Jeremy knew he wanted to go faster, knowing the oasis that this trail led to. It wasn’t a long ride, but it could lame a horse if you weren’t careful. A muffled French curse brought Jeremy out of his head, and he glanced back to see one of Jean’s spurs caught on a tall bush scrub. He didn’t and couldn’t stop the snort of laughter the image caused, and when Jean leveled him with an annoyed stare, he dismounted to help. Jeremy hoped it wasn’t just his imagination that Jean’s slight upward tilt of his mouth, and he savored the moment. He snapped the bush with a quick cliche of his knife, and gave a hearty smile to Jean and a pat to Bleu before walking back to Moo.
Finally, the brush cleared and the small hot springs came into view. It was surrounded by mesas, tucked into the desert brush. Cat and Laila were there already, dipping their legs into the water as Coyote and Rifle meandered slightly further away. Jeremy pulled Moo up and dismounted, and heard a small gasp of wonder from Jean when he saw the sight in front of him. The sunset was reflecting over the water, making it a brilliant purple and red in reflection. The girls had laid out lanterns, and Jeremy saw some food poking out of the saddle bags that were laying on the ground.
Both Jeremy and Jean led their horses over to the other two, and Jean calmed a slightly anxious Bleu. She was getting better with the Warrior’s horses, but she still held tension when she was expecting to socialize with several horses at once. Jeremy hoped that Moo’s solid presence was enough for her to relax. After Jean had sufficiently deemed Bleu calm enough, he waited for Jeremy to finish rummaging through his saddle bag to find the small tin container he had grabbed from the apothecary. He usually smoked after his nights at the Saddle, before he went home, but Laila would be fine with him indulging out here.
Cat jumped up to greet Jean with a careful hug and a rub of his hair, which he growled about, but she had taken a hold of his hat and was taking it hostage. She smiled at Laila, giving her the hat and a kiss. Jeremy smiled, and sat down his tired body next to Laila, laying his head on her shoulder. She patted his face affectionately, and joined in the light conversation that Cat and Jean were engaging in. Jeremy tuned it out, for the most part, just listening to the comforting tones of his friends, letting Jean’s voice float above him.
Chapter 8: July 1885
Chapter Text
A cold hand shocked him awake, and Jeremy blinked into the gray eyes of Jean, who had gently shaken him from his nap. He had ended up curled on the side of the bank, his body covered with a spare saddle blanket.
He hastily scraped the sleep from his eyes and realized that it was now just the two of them.
“Where are the girls?” Jeremy asked, both disappointed in his exhaustion that he missed them and buoyed with more time spent with Jean. The man in question pointed to another trail, one that veers off into another pool. Jeremy nodded, knowing that it was a favorite of theirs, and made himself a note to spend some quality time with Laila and Cat before the end of the week. With the shooting, the press of his family, and his extra job, it was hard to catch anyone, even Jean. Jeremy was getting to their room after Jean fell asleep, which he is glad for. Trying to explain the brothel kept getting stuck in his throat. Especially after his reaction to that bruise a bit ago.
Jean looked pensive as he looked down at Jeremy from his kneeling position, and then sat back and up. Jeremy stretched his sore body from sleeping on the hard ground, and joined him.
“We can swim?” Jeremy asked, before amending it,
“Well, you can definitely reach the bottom without even going under.”
It was dark enough to miss the way Jean’s face filled with fear.
“If you just want to dip your toes in, it’ll relieve some of the tension from riding every day.” Jeremy kept talking, giving Jean more than enough options before a soft, yet demanding hand grabbed his chin.
“I will not swim, I…cannot. But I will,” he shot a quick glance at his neck and Jeremy knew he was caught.
“Again?” Jean’s voice was a different tone than his normal, and Jeremy knew that he would have to give him a better explanation.
“Let me get in, and I will tell you.”
“Will you lie to me?”
“No, Jean, but most of the others don’t know the full extent of the truth. Laila and Cat know most, but not all.” Jeremy turned away, to hide his own feelings from showing, and Jean let his face go, letting him hide. He walked a slight few paces away, and began to undress, and even knowing the sound was not amplified, it felt as if each piece of clothing carried its own thump. He didn’t know if he could deal with Jean hating him.
No. He knew he couldn’t.
Once he was naked, he turned back to see Jean turned away, with a red flush at the back of his neck. Jeremy smiled, guilty for wanting a reaction, and quickly got into the steaming water. It was an immediate relief to his sore muscles and aches. Jean must have heard the splashes, because he came to sit down on the edge, having removed his boots.
Jeremy walked over, slowly against the current, and sat on the small rock shelf that was near where Jean sat.
“Remember when I told you about my brother?”
Jean nodded, and continued to wait.
“The brother that we were going to meet, his name is Joshua. Him and Noah were irish twins, really close, so he hurt quite a bit.” Jeremy sighed, closing his eyes, gathering strength, before continuing.
“Joshua dropped out of school and started a brothel. Catering to the upper classes like our mother and stepfather were in, and served exclusively men. I guess he got the idea that in order to make some more money, or just to punish me, I’m not sure, to have one male prostitute. It rakes in more money, as people with my proclivities will pay more to have the secrecy and well-off men of good means don’t want to be known to visit a male only establishment. So, I work for him, sometimes, when he is short a month or a…regular requests me.”
Jean was silent, and Jeremy had to look, to see if there was a look of disgust on his face. Instead there was one of fierce concern, which shocked Jeremy to flinch backward.
“And one of your…clients did that to you. Who is he?”
“Yes, but it was…”
“Okay, because you wanted it? I said that too.” Jean huffed out. And then his hand went to his mouth as if trying to wrench the words back in.
“Jean. No, I am not being forced. It is just complicated.”
“I do not get you, Jeremy.” Jean said, his voice holding in barely concealed hurt and confusion. As he got up from the edge of the water, he continued,
“You say you want me to know I did not deserve the things that happened to me, but you have swallowed down the same pain I have. Why are you allowed to hurt this way, but I am not? I will see you at the house.”
Jean walked away, towards where the girls were, after taking Bleu with him. Moo followed his friend, and Jeremy was left all alone, baked in a shame he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
Chapter 9: July 1885
Chapter Text
Jean could not stop himself from thinking about Jeremy. He had walked away, aiming to join the girls, but he was not too confident in the geography of this place, and he ended up somewhere else. Close enough to still feel the steam wafting off the water, but not able to see either pool. The odd brush around him was dense enough that he was sure that he was at least out of the infuriatingly handsome man’s view.
It was too confusing, the way Jeremy ceded his life over to his family, people who did not seem to like him very much. It was baffling, to not know Jeremy and immediately like him. Jean had been trying, but the man’s ability to be sunshine personified was a skill that he was so addled by.
He knew about the incident with his brother, but Jeremy was scant with opening up about anything else. Nothing about the weekly dinners that he returned from, exhausted and light gone from his eyes. Or the nights, now that Jean thought about it, where he was left alone in their room for hours, waiting for the now familiar creak of the door to reveal a disheveled blond head. He never gave them too much thought, other than the sleep that came for Jean once his comforting presence arrived.
It soured something in his gut, the thought that Jeremy was coming home with other men’s bodies having laid claim in a way that Jean only dreamed about. He remembered the bruises on his skin, the way Jeremy would wear longer sleeved tunics some days, reluctant to show off his skin as he normally did. Jean would find himself glad for the break of seeing his muscled and chiseled body, but now he wondered what the fabric had been covering. It was infuriating, that this gentle and kind man, one of the few that Jean even knew, was enduring such harsh treatment.
Jean began to retrace his steps, leaving the horses grazing calmly in the brush, and stopped at the edge of the clearing. Jeremy was standing still in the water, the heat causing his chest to turn red, with his head tilted up towards the setting sun. He could see tear tracks on his cheek, and the purple bruising that covered his neck. Huffing, Jean came back and sat down cross legged on the ground, waiting for Jeremy to notice him. It took slightly too long, and Jean had even debated saying the man’s name to get his attention, but the startled, “you came back” was so genuinely surprised, like he expected that no one would return to him.
They silently stared at each other, and Jean knew that if he could trust someone, it would be, and already was him.
“The only times I was…paid for… was when it was outside the posse, and they did not like to share.” Jean began, and Jeremy made a noise in the back of his throat, like it was something devastating. He moved towards the rocky edge and lifted his hand out, just barely reaching for Jean’s fingertips. Jean took a breath and moved the slight distance so their hands were tangled up. His eyes could not make the leap to look at him, so he watched the small lapping of water, and the dirt underneath their hands.
“I never had a choice in who I was servicing, and it was never about me. The Cheat would threaten to turn me over to the law as a prostitute, even though we had committed worse crimes, he knew what being branded as one would entail. I was punished for things that I maybe deserved, maybe did not.”
Jeremy interrupted then, and squeezed his fingers with a gentle pressure,
“Never deserved.”
Jean looked back up, meeting a serious face. It was spoken with such conviction that Jean almost believed it.
“When Queen left, Kevin,” Jean clarified for Jeremy, even though the man gave no reaction that he did not know the infamous Queen. He presumed that it was Kevin and Jeremy who facilitated his kidnapping and rescue.
“Any slight provocation would result in my punishment. But they had the sway of the law more often than not, with the Cheat’s connections. Even as we murdered and they took women and robbed people blind, his family would always be there to clean up and be lauded for their efforts. It was one of the biggest issues, when word got out. The Cheat would have to clean up the rumors, and then we would be left with more dead cowboys in our wake.”
Jeremy nodded, understanding, and Jean forced himself not to dig his nails into his neck as he continued.
“Brawn was my partner, Zane. We had made a deal that I would help him move up the ranks and he would keep the other more…brutish members away from me, but when the Damned arrived, he screwed that over. Ha.” Jean let out that last syllable with no humor, and thought of holding Neil’s body down while Riko poured the cold water over his head, and shivered. He was not fond of the little gremlin, but he made himself sick with the actions he was forced to make him endure.
“When the Cheat found out about the unauthorized… he forced them into a room together and did not let them go until one was the winner.” Jeremy’s face was ashen, a violent comparison to the way the reddened skin seemed to only darken.
Jean let himself take a break from confessing, and watched Jeremy take it in. It was a few minutes of silence, before Jeremy whispered,
“Thank you for telling me. I will never let him or anyone get to you again, Jean. I promise. Anything I can do.”
Jean nodded, feeling the sincerity, and having to look away.
“I need to get out before I boil completely, and then we can find the girls and go back home, okay?”
They reluctantly untangled their fingers, and Jean stood up and turned towards where he could hear the horses feet plodding and their gentle neighing. He knew that Jeremy had exited the water, and he had to force himself to stay looking away, and not to glance at the dripping skin he knew was there.
Jeremy had seemingly brought fresh clothes, and by the time a warm hand gently got his attention by patting his shoulder, he was dressed in something more respectable. Jean gestured to the horses, and Jeremy smiled, but before either took a step, Jeremy held his hand out for Jean. He stared at it, for maybe a beat too long, but as Jeremy dropped it, Jean reached out, and grabbed his wrist.
He led him to the other pool, where Cat and Laila were surely not decent, so he made sure he announced him and Jean’s presence as soon as he thought they could hear. Neither advanced until the girls shouted out their accent.
The ride back to the house was easy, and he let Jeremy catch up to Laila, seeing he needed some of her comfort. Cat turned around and her and Rifle trotted to beside Jean and Bleu.
“You okay?” she asked, seemingly noticing his mood. He was still uncomfortable from unleashing all the truths to Jeremy, his stomach churning.
“I think I will be.” He said, once again truthfully. She smiled at him, and he felt the twitching at the corners of his lips to return it.
As they crested to see the house there was a group of people with bandanas around their necks, not pulled up, and Jean stiffened. Cat glanced over, and then at the people who would be strangers to her.
The four pushed their horses faster, although Jean was the fastest.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed out, but they did not answer, waiting for Jeremy to catch up before introducing themselves. The man with wild red hair and scars that both matched and exceeded Jean’s own was the one to reach out a hand to Jeremy.
“Howdy, Wildfire, I’m the Damned, and we need to talk.”
Chapter 10: July 1885
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jean glared at the dull red, wondering if it was possible to will him away. Neil Josten was a thorn in his side on a good day, and it was rapidly becoming worse by the minute.
The Foxes had congregated in the dining room, all over the place. They were not as big as the Warriors, but it was a lot of people to fit into one room. They were also all quiet, which was putting Jean’s nerves on overdrive. Jeremy had sat easily on the edge of the table, and was waiting.
When the door opened by its own accord, Jean was not ready for Kevin to walk in. He should have assumed that he would. In the months since they had seen each other, Kevin had filled out more, less dependent on Riko’s strange food schedule and allowance. As he got closer, tension threatened to break Jean’s back. He had covered up the ‘Ⅱ’ tattoo, with a Queen’s chess piece.
“What have you done?” Jean forced out, in French. Both Kevin and Neil looked his way, but only Neil responded,
“Something he should’ve done a while ago,” Neil leaned over from where he perched and tapped Jean’s cheek, where the ‘Ⅲ’ lay. “We could get yours gone too.”
Jean whipped his head away, and the force almost took him to the ground. A warm hand wrapped around his wrist, and Jeremy tugged it towards him. The action was hidden underneath the table, but it served its purpose, and Jean took a breath that did not fill his lungs. It was better than no air at all.
“No, you short imbecile,” Jean replied, getting slightly more grounded by the feeling of Jeremy’s thumb rubbing small circles on his wrist. One of the blond twins, Poker Face, he presumed, stepped closer to Neil and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Neil grimaced, but nodded. His head leaned back slightly onto the stomach of the shorter man, and Jean watched as the two leaned into each other.
“Okay! What was it you wanted to talk about?” Jeremy clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention, and Jean refused to let the disappointment of no longer having his touch appear on his face.
“The Cheat. He’s getting too comfortable killing other posses and taking gold. He needs to be cut out. And I have a way.” Neil started, and then cut himself off, waiting for, Jean presumed, dramatic timing.
“We can use his greed against him. I doubt Ichirou knows about his extra skimming off the top.”
Jean found his hands gripping the edges of the chair, and he squeezed so hard at the name, that the wood pierced his skin. He growled, and tried to sink from anyone’s view. Unfortunately, Jeremy, Neil, and Cat all noticed, and Cat was the one to come closer, carefully taking his hands in hers, slowly, but efficiently removing the splinters.
He let the others talk, and discuss, without trying to listen in. It was too much. All of today, he learned and shared so much of him with Jeremy that it all became background noise. Jean knew that he should listen, but once Cat finished with his hands, he got up and left.
It was possible that Jeremy had said something to him, but it was all he could do, to get away from the Foxes and his burgeoning family. His feet led him to his and Jeremy’s bedroom, and he sat down heavily, letting the bed sink under his weight. In the darkness and without any oil lamp, his brain betrayed him, and he sunk into the miserable past.
He laid on something too hot. It was burning his back, slowly causing blisters that he knew would pop soon after cool air blew on him, causing immense pain. His hands shook and grabbed at the coals as he watched Riko approach with the pot of water. It had to be cold, the last time he tried hot, it caused Jean to miss too many days. Suffocation took over the pain from his back. The cloth cloying to his skin and rendering him unable to do anything but gasp in chunks of water.
A hand pushed him down into the bed, and took what he wanted. Jean just grimaced and waited it out, feeling the blissful cool air hit his back when the man left.
Riko put his cigarette out on his skin, and Jean barely flinched, the pain not even as bad as what he had endured the previous day.
Blood pooled under his leg, but Riko refused to stop, punching Jean’s body until it broke.
A horse hoof coming for his face. Knowing the taste of the mix of blood and dirt too intimately.
Brown eyes came into his field of vision, and Jean blinked out of the past. Jeremy was not touching him, just kneeling in front of him, waiting, concern etched onto his face.
“They are gone for the night. At an inn in town.”
Jean just nodded, and breathed out a sigh of relief and exhaustion. Jeremy sat back on his heels and laid his hand out, palm up. His touch was another moment of relaxation, and Jean tugged Jeremy’s hand closer.
“Do you want to know what the conversation decided?” He asked, his voice soft, and Jean shook his head.
“I cannot. There is still loyalty somewhere here.” Jean used his free hand to circle his chest, and Jeremy nodded, understanding.
“Dinner?” Jean asked, and Jeremy gestured to the plate he brought in, and laid down on the dresser.
“Figured you’d want to be alone.”
“Maybe not entirely.” Jean confessed, and Jeremy’s smile was so genuine that he had to look away. Focusing on the plate, he ate, without really tasting it. They both silently decided to head to bed, but as Jeremy went to wash up, Jean went to find Cat.
She was curled with Laila, reading a book as Laila brushed out and braided her hair. He came to sit down,
“Thank you. For the splinters.”
“Of course, Jean.” She replied to him, and he felt his heart slow down even further. It was nice to be here, with these people who cared for him, even if it had taken months for him to accept it. With an effort to not think about it, Jean leaned forward and kissed Cat on the forehead, and when he saw Laila’s fake indignation, gave her one too.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Jean.” Laila said, squeezing his hand briefly as he walked back to Jeremy.
He found him pulling on his night shirt, and Jean knocked on the door-frame to announce himself. It was another forbidden glance of his tanned skin, the muscles rippling slightly with the movement of changing. As Jeremy turned, the moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains perfectly illuminated his beauty. His lips were right there, and for a few seconds, all Jean could do was look and want.
Would it be so bad?
Jean stepped closer, his inhibitions lowered by the exhaustion from reliving some of his memories, and carefully, spoke.
“Jeremy?”
The man stopped and looked at Jean with a second of a strange expression, before it changed.
“Yeah?”
Jean walked a pace closer, stopping just before the man, and reached out to grasp his chin. Jeremy swallowed, and Jean tracked the movement.
A vision of Riko, suddenly, appeared in Jean’s head, and he flinched back,
“Never mind, we should sleep.” Jean said, sitting on his cot and scooting back, pretending to forget what he was going to ask.
Jeremy stood still for a moment, before giving Jean a smile,
“Okay. Good night, Jean.”
Jean made a noise in agreement, before waiting until Jeremy was under the covers before he moved to stare at the black shape only a few feet away.
Can I kiss you?
Jean dug his hands into the soft skin of his legs, willing the impulse to disappear.
Notes:
Sorry this one was late, and also not my best. Writer's block is a bitch.
Chapter 11: August 1885
Chapter Text
Jeremy aimed, and the man’s hat flew off. It was a beautiful shot, the bullet grazing through the felt without any issue. There was a moment of silence, as the crowd registered what had just happened, before all hell broke loose. It was a full descent into pandemonium, and Jeremy grinned underneath his bandana tied around his face. Jean brought up Bleu next to him, and raised his eyebrows, which was a comical sight with the new blue bandana that Cody had made him. It brought out the storminess in his eyes.
Everyone in the crowd started rushing around, and the Warriors’ horses surrounded the group of politicians on their defunct stage. It was a slightly larger town than the one that was closer to their homestead, and they had heard reports that their recent election was bribed against the local prostitutes. Jeremy knew one of the women, dual employed here in town and at the Silver Saddle, had whispered about the unfairness of it. With the posse closing in, it was the sheriff who shot first, aiming for Cody. Jean’s sharp intake of air, full of worry, caused a flood of warmth squeezing his heart.
“Don’t worry, he’s fast.” Jeremy whispered, and the statement of reassurance was too late, as Cody had already moved Remington, dodging the shot with a speed and agility that still shocked Jeremy. She reared up, and the moment was immortalized, their shaven red hair glowing the early morning light. If only any of them had brought a camera.
Within the next few minutes, the politicians were disarmed, and the Warriors waited with tense horses, as Jeremy trotted Moo out to the center, his revolver carefully tucked out of sight, but reachable. He didn’t take down his bandana, but shouted over the noise of horses’ out of sync stomping.
“I hear that you proud boys take bribes. I don’t have any money on me, but I think I have something you want.” He said, cajoling. It was obvious they were afraid, and the one in the middle, now sans hat, was shaking so hard.
“I don’t like violence. I don’t want to be enforcing anything but good will. I see you men over here mistreating the women that created this town, laying blame on them for the corruption of your sons, all the while visiting her yourself.” He pushed Moo forward, until he was just a few steps from the stage, and held out his hand,
“Either the girls get what they want, or we take this town from you. I promise, it’d be mighty easy.” He drawled, smiling, even though they couldn’t see it.
He felt rather than saw Jean trot up beside him, and as he waited for the politicians to whisper to each other, to discuss and try to negotiate. Jean’s whisper was not a surprise, and Jeremy leaned back to hear better, ignoring the way it felt to lean into Jean, his strong shoulder a welcoming connection.
“The man on the left has a pistol in his boot.”
Jeremy nodded, and dismounted with a quick jump, his spurs clacking against the hard leather of his shoes. He strided up to the man that Jean pointed out to him, and waited, his hands on his hips. He had to look up, the man was taller, but Jeremy’s impatience and intolerance of him was potent, and he swallowed. Audibly.
“If you shoot, I promise that I have a doctor that will stitch you up all right. He is used to working on horses though, and I’ve seen that needle.” Jeremy shuddered, exaggerating the movement. The man’s eyes flicked down to his right boot, and Jeremy followed the gaze. Without a moment to ponder, he bent down and pulled the gun out. It was a nice one, a Iver Johnson five-shot American Bulldog. He studied the shine of the metal, and tossed it in the air, with a nice wide arc. The shot ran out as he expected, and the man in front of him flinched so hard he fell down. Jeremy turned just in time to see one of Jean’s dual pistols smoking, and a hunger glinting in those steel gray eyes.
Clicking his teeth, Jeremy walked away from the man, showing his back as he went to the clear guy in charge.
“Fine. Fine. Whatever you want. Just please.” He stammered out, and Jeremy did feel bad for the terror in his tone, but shook it away with the knowledge that the girls who created these towns, the ones that created schools and homes for the men were getting screwed over, for this man to do whatever he wanted.
“Good. One of my representatives will be staying in town for the duration of the election, and afterwards. Give the women whatever they want, and try to keep the bribes and flagrant corruption to a minimum. And we won’t have any problems.” Jeremy said, his hands resting lightly on his revolver, waiting. The man nodded, and turned to the sheriff, whose face was morphing into someone mighty angry. It took a few minutes of a whispered conversation between the two men, and Jeremy waited them out. As the sheriff clearly, but begrudgingly agreed, Jeremy took the time to memorize his face. He would be a problem. Maybe not now, but that was a look of a man not used to not getting what he wanted.
A terse nod and Jeremy’s obliging head dip later, they were back a few meters from the town proper, calming their horses and getting supplies ready. Jeremy hung back, and watched, his friends, his family , gathering the things for the few Warriors that were staying in town. The one the politicians knew about would be Derek, but there were several going in under their noses. As he watched, Jean, now dismounted, walked over to Jeremy and opened his mouth.
For a hot second, Jeremy was reminded of that night, a month ago, when Jean had done the same thing while holding Jeremy’s chin in his hands, and Jeremy had hoped his arousal had been hidden away from him, but with Jean, it was hard to tell. He oscillated between his nervous glances when he thought Jeremy wasn’t looking, and the full drinking in that made Jeremy flush with want and need and shame.
Jean spoke, interrupting his spiraling thoughts,
“It is impressive. The way you can bend them without violence.” He said, his voice was slightly awed, and Jeremy realized that Jean hadn't seen anything but The Cheat work his way through towns and people.
“People do not like being confronted, and the shooting gallery we put on, with the hat, and the gun, proves that we can shoot, but have chosen not to. And when they fuck up, which they will, they want that bribe money, they’ll be reminded. With a few clever fingers and a show, they will be reduced in front of the people that live and breathe and work in the town.” Jeremy explained, and Jean nodded, and Jeremy drank in the entrapping gaze that he was being given. Jeremy dismounted as Derek, Derrick, Ananya, and Pat got back in the saddles. And both Jean and Jeremy went over to wish them well. They knew what they were doing, they always did, and he smiled his farewell, knowing they’d be alright and hoping for their safety anyway.
When they got back to the homestead, everyone and their horses were heaving with exhaustion. Jeremy included. All he wanted was to curl up in his room, and rest his weary limbs. Instead, someone stood at the door of the home, and Jeremy’s stomach dropped. He raised his fist, commanding the posse to stop in its tracks, and dismounted, quickly pulling off the bandana off his body and handing it to Jean.
“Stay Here. I need to deal with this.” He said, wearily, and trudged up to the porch where his mother waited.
Chapter 12: August 1885
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jeremy tried not to glance back at his friends, as Mathilda stared him down. He swallowed the lump of uncertainty and asked her,
“What are you doing here mamma?”
“Just wanted to check on my property, see if you were managing it well. Got a call from a family friend, saying that a posse blew into town and threatened him. You sure you know what every one of your tenants are up to?” She said, her voice even and cool, and even though he was sure that she didn’t know, her accusations could get him and his friends dead.
“I know what they all do, mamma, I promise. Nothing even close to hustling and intimidating.” Jeremy lied, and he tapered it off with a quick smile. She seemed partially satisfied with the answer, until her eyes caught on someone behind him. Jeremy knew without a doubt she was looking at Jean. Tall and imposing on his mare, and Jeremy knew his bandana had come down on the ride home and Jeremy hoped his tattoo was covered, if not by the dark night than by his hair.
“Jeremy, darling. If you are sure you aren’t being influenced. We need an appearance at the governor’s ball, I found a darling girl for you to dance with.”
“Mamma, I…” Jeremy cut himself off and nodded, wearily rubbing at his eyes. Mathilda smacked his hands away, “Don’t do that dear, it’ll ruin your complexion."
“When is the ball?” He asked, hoping the question derailed her from the interest in Jean.
“The day after tomorrow. Her name is Allison Reynolds, a beautiful daughter of the governor.” She continued on, and Jeremy widened his eyes in shock. He was not expecting to recognise the name given to him, much less know her from the Foxes. If he knew the group as he did, they were planning something.
“So?” His mother asked, and Jeremy snapped his head back from theorizing what the Foxes were up to, and answered her with a smile and nod.
“Yeah, mamma, I can make the ball.”
“It would be easier if you just stayed at home afterwards, we have a discussion to have over some topics not for non-familial ears.” She demanded, in a very polite work around, and Jeremy knew a summons when he heard it, so he quietly agreed his assent.
His mother pretended to care about the small things in his life, and as the conversation faded into an awkward silence, he yawned again, and turned his head slightly, noticing how antsy Moo and Bleu were getting.
“Its been a long day, we need to untack and get the horses to bed and then ourselves, so, I’ll see you for the ball?” he asked, trying to prod her along.
“Are you not going to invite your poor, tired, mother to stay the night?”
“Sorry, do you want to stay? We have a few rooms available, but they are not up to your standards.” Jeremy said, and waited out the several composed facial expressions that graced her face.
“No, that won’t do. Pull the carriage up and take me home.” She demanded, and Jeremy nodded, yawned again, and indicated for her to come into the family room. Matilda perched uncomfortably on the arm of one of their chairs, and waited.
Jeremy jogged back to the others and told them he was gonna take a few of the carriage horses and take his mother home.
“But you are exhausted?” Jean asked, and dismounted the now pawing at the ground Bleu. Jeremy had carefully maneuvered them so the horses blocked his mother’s view, and was grateful, as Jean grabbed his chin and bent down to examine the weariness that Jeremy was sure was written all over his face. Jeremy sighed, and let him look, before looking into Jean’s stormy silver stare, and shrugging.
“It's part of the deal. I won’t ride the horses, just drive them. The way is mostly on a road, and the horses know how to follow it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He justified, but Jean was not as convinced as the rest of his friends. He did not yet understand the lengths that Jeremy would go, for his redemption. And if the small voice in the back of his head said that nothing would do that, that they did not love him and did not care if he prostrated himself in front of them, he would push it down and ignore it. He watched Jean glance at Cat and Laila, seemingly understanding something through whatever was on their faces. He let go of Jeremy’s chin, and said,
“I will go with you.”
“What? Jean. No.” Jeremy tried to protest, but the decision was already made. Cody dismounted and grabbed Blue’s reins, while Cat did the same for Moo.
“We got them. Go return your mom to her castle.” Cat said, earning a slight glare from Jeremy, even as Cody snickered under his breath.
Jeremy didn’t want Jean to meet his mother. She was cruel most of the time, and ignorant at best when it came to who he preferred. It would take all of his energy to ensure that she didn’t catch onto anything he was feeling, even if those thoughts were caught up with complications he couldn’t unravel. They trod towards the barn, and made a quick detour to make sure the carriage was untied and ready to have horses tethered to it.
He avoided conversation, and Jean let him, and they worked in silence. It went too fast for Jeremy, who was hoping to delay this meeting. As they put on the final touches to the harnesses of the two horses, his anxiety skyrocketed. He felt the moment his hands began shaking, and the knot he was tying just wouldn’t cooperate. Jean surprised him by reaching out and slowly tangling their fingers together. His heart was beating so fast he was sure Jean could feel it from his fingertips.
“I will stand by you; nothing she can say will take me from you, and this group of people.” Jean reassured Jeremy, and if it wasn’t for several different reasons, he would’ve kissed him. He hoped it wasn’t the trick of a light, when he saw Jean’s cheeks heat, when the sear of his eyes glanced towards Jeremy’s mouth. Making a quick detour, he brought Jean to the first aid kit that hung near one of the troughs, and grabbed a small piece of bandage and tape. He rose on his tiptoes and carefully taped the bandage over the number ‘3’ blazoned on his cheekbone. The feel of his cheek against his fingertips caused him to stutter out a breath. They stood there, for just a moment, as Jeremy slowly dropped his heels back to the floor.
Maybe it was the impending nearness of their footsteps toward Mathilda, or that glance that Jean had leveled to his lips, but Jeremy blushed, squeezed Jean’s hand before untangling them and taking a step away. It was everything, and yet not enough.
Mathilda regarded both of them with a cool contempt as they finally approached her, but her gaze was back on Jeremy before too long. He could recognize the slight disdain, but he barreled through an introduction without thinking about it too much.
“This is one of my friends, Jean, he will come with us so we can use more horses and get home faster.”
“Fine. Help me in.” She reached out her hand, and Jeremy obliged, carefully helping her step into the carriage. He waited until her dress was safely tucked inside, before closing the door. He hefted out a sigh, and both him and Jean moved to the driver’s seat. The horses were antsy to get going, being trapped in the barn and padlock all day. Jeremy began them on a light walk, as they rolled their way onto the road.
They were several minutes in when Jeremy couldn’t deal with the silence anymore, and began to ramble. Mostly about the newest way Laila and Cat had made his day the other week. Jean listened, as he normally did, the corner of his mouth curling up into a half smile as Jeremy continued on, talking about nothing in particular.
When Jean spoke up for the first time, an hour into the trip, only a few miles away from their first destination, it caused Jeremy to almost fall out of the seat where he had been resting his eyes.
“What did she ask of you this time?”
Jeremy blinked a few times, waking himself up to answer the question.
“There is a governor’s ball, and I have to attend with a girl my parents found.” He confessed, but as Jean’s eyes widened, Jeremy continued,
“The girl is Allison Reynolds. Which means the Foxes are up to something.”
“It is Neil who is up to something.” Jean said, and Jeremy nodded, agreeing. He had only met the man once, when he came to talk about Riko’s fate last month, but from the news and gossip surrounding him, Jeremy knew he was crafty and got out of any trouble he found himself in.
“I never asked, how do you know each other? Outside of both knowing Kevin, which I was aware of,” Jeremy asked, curiosity reignited. It was several long seconds before he responded, and Jeremy worried he overstepped, but as he went to ask Jean to disregard, he answered,
“There was a deal made, through the Cheat, where he came to us, in order to protect his…spark,” He began, and Jeremy could feel the shame and remorse creep through his voice, his accent slightly thicker.
“It was a bad thing. And I helped, I had to. It was him or me, and I was so tired. But I stitched him up. ‘Helped him survive’ in his words.” He said, and Jeremy knew it was hard for Jean to admit to this moment of duality. Cruelty and care. Instead of responding with something trite that Jean would scoff at, all Jeremy did was reach over and tentatively pat his thigh, going for unspoken comfort. Jean tensed for the first second, but relaxed into the touch. They couldn’t stay touching like that forever, so Jeremy let go, but they both had moved over, the sides of their bodies now brushing up against each other during every bump and turn of the rest of the road.
“We’re here.”
They extended the reins of the horses, and Jeremy went to help Mathilda down, as Jean gave the horses a snack. Her hand came to rest on his elbow, and the touch was so cold compared to the familiarity that Jean’s had become. A bud of fear began at the nape of his neck, Jeremy realized that Jean had become family so much more quickly than he expected, and that his mother’s own affection had been burning cold.
“I will see you for the ball, be good, Jeremy.” Mathilda stated, and the door opened with impeccable timing, William bowing at the sight of her and nodding his hello to Jeremy.
“Yeah, mamma, I will.” He sighed, and watched as she whisked herself into the foyer, and then as quick as she could have ruined his life, she was gone. William laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Jeremy took in the small comfort.
The door closed and he trudged back towards the carriage, where Jean was waiting. Jean gestured to the carriage and Jeremy shook his head, but Jean looked at him, and pressed his thumbs into what Jeremy knew was the bruised skin under his eyes. He flinched away, aware of the windows and servants that his family employed, that Warren would hear of anything he did.
“You need to sleep.”
“So do you.” Jeremy shot back, and instead of continuing to argue, Jean leveled him with a stare and raised eyebrows before turning back to the driver’s seat.
Jeremy acquiesced to Jean’s quiet insistence, feeling even more tired than he did before his mother had shown up, unable to do much of anything but stumble into the carriage and fall asleep. If he dreamt of capable hands and a tall brooding glare telling him what to do, he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.
Notes:
Spark: Lover, beau
Chapter 13: August 1885
Chapter Text
It was distasteful, the way he knew his gaze was scouring over what Jeremy had donned for the ball he was going with Allison to. He was wearing a velvet suit, so red it was almost black. Instead of his usual Stetson, white beaver felt hat, he wore a more relaxed one, black felt shaped into a wideawake. It matched his boots.
Surprisingly he did not have any formal wear, and had to borrow a basic black tail coat from someone else. It was not comfortable, and Jean wanted to pull the seams out, but when he saw the faint blush on Jeremy’s cheeks, he decided to deal with the slight restraint of the stiff fabric.
Jean allowed himself 15 more seconds to peruse before turning back, away from him. Away from the constant temptation of want that they constantly skirted around. It was getting harder to pretend that the man in front of him was anything like any of the other men in his life.
As Jeremy finished putting on the outfit’s final touches, he gave Jean a smile that did not reach his eyes. It had taken a better part of an hour to argue that Jeremy should bring at least one of them. In the end, it was Laila who had the best standing in society, with her benefactor of an uncle, so she was accompanying him publicly, and Cat and Jean were following behind. Jeremy was not sure he could get them in, but it was worth enough to try. To not abandon Jeremy to the maws of his cruel family. The rest of the Warriors were following a few hours later, meeting with the Foxes. He did not trust that the Foxes were going to keep Jeremy safe when their inevitable shenanigans disrupt the event. Renee has been tight lipped, worrying more about Allison and her fraught relationship with her parents. He could relate, even if he refused to mention it.
The building is gaudy, an eyesore in the low plains that surround the area. It fit more into an old memory of Jean’s, where a small hand had held his, and they both stared up at the opulence in front of them. He shook his head violently to clear the vision, and Cat came up next to him.
“Jeremy is about 4th in line now, so we will need to enter with them. The others have gathered in the stables, and I think I saw Neil’s hair dashing around, so something is up.” Jean nodded, trying to word his next sentence well.
“I worry that they will not put Jeremy’s safety into their plans, not like they would for Allison.”
“We have him. You by yourself stitched him up after he got shot.” Cat gently grasped his forearm, and he met her eyes, they were clear and determined.
“I promise.”
Jean contemplated the building again, and huffed out an agreement. Cat reached up and tweaked his cheek, where the hidden three lay. They turned back to the carriage and walked back, just in time for Laila and Jeremy to exit. He had already ogled Jeremy enough for the night, so he took his time in avoiding him by gazing at Laila. Her gown was beautiful, some sort of fabric Jean was not aware of the English word for. She winked at him, and he looked away, but her smile was genuine as it normally was.
Jeremy held out his arm, and Laila went towards the door. He gestured to Jean and Cat, and he heard their fake identities, two servants.
“Jeremy Knox and Laila Dermott,” the man announced, while gesturing Cat and Jean down a long hallway, presumably leading to the servant’s quarters. They made way as if going to the correct area, but Jean turned off into the doorway they had determined led to an alcove that was fairly hidden. Cat was going further, but she tapped a knuckle against the wall as she left him.
Jean sucked in a breath, almost coughed with the amount of dust, and carefully stepped up the short staircase. He parted the heavy curtains, just enough to peek through. The view of the ballroom was perfect. He could see everything.
Which meant he could see in perfect clarity the way that Jeremy danced with Laila, then Allison, close enough that even though he knew Jeremy’s attraction only went one way, it did not stop his fist from clenching in discrete agony. Jeremy twirled and kept the rhythm perfectly, as he danced with yet another girl. He watched as Jeremy took a break, grabbing a flute of champagne and resting against the wall. Jean narrowed his eyes as someone who looked like a younger Jeremy approached him. He knew enough about his family from the scant few confessions that Jeremy had whispered to him in the dead of night, that this was Joshua, owner of the Silver Saddle. The conversation looked contentious, but Jean could not interfere, he had promised Jeremy to not go after his family. It was harder to keep now, as he watched the beginnings of Jeremy’s closed off face, the short nods and tension filled shoulders.
Fortunately for the integrity of the railing, Laila interrupted, and pulled Jeremy back onto the dance floor. Jean’s hands relaxed minutely and he was able to go back to watching Jeremy dance.
He let himself observe the rest of the room, but his mind kept slipping to a perfect world, where he was the one dancing with Jeremy.
Jeremy’s arms would be around his neck, and Jean’s hands would fit perfectly around his waist. Jeremy would lean in and be able to rest his head on Jean’s chest, as they swayed to the orchestral music. Jean would be able to have Jeremy as close as he wanted, close enough to tip up his chin and kiss him. It would be just the two of them, holding each other. Jeremy would thread his hands in Jean’s hair, and Jean would not flinch. Jean’s eyes would count each freckle that adorned his face.
“This is a hold up!” A familiar raspy voice shot out, and Jean was thrust out of his daydream into a series of shivering. Riko’s voice. Panic infused his body, and he tried to locate Jeremy and Laila, to no avail. Even Allison was proving difficult to find.
“Fuck.” Jean whispered, and began to rush out and down. The arm he hit forced him to a sudden stop and a deep breath as the air rushed out of his lungs in a moment.
Zane Reacher was there. He smiled, cruelly, and grabbed the back of Jean’s neck. He peeled the covering off the three and shoved him forward, into the hallway.
“Cheat wants to talk.”
Chapter 14: August 1885
Chapter Text
Jean swallowed down the bile that had been threatening to overwhelm him for the better part of the 10 minutes that Zane had been keeping him in this small room. There was a scratching sound on the side of one of the walls that Jean was focusing on, every few seconds it would commence before stopping for a pause. It was better than trying and failing not to imagine his friends bloody, beaten, worse, at the hands of Riko. It had gotten so bad that he was even wishing that Neil would make an appearance, use his limitless ability to sow chaos to help them out. To help Jeremy and Laila out. He just hoped Cat wasn’t recognized as anyone important to the Deck. She was not rich like Laila and not connected like Jeremy, and her face was always covered as a Warrior.
Another moment of scratching. A grunt from Zane. An image of blood and guts and dead eyes. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
A noise that could only be a gunshot exploded in the small room, but there was no evidence of it. Jean had been pulled around too many times in the maze of the manor to remember the map he had partially memorized. He had no idea where this room was, but with how close the sound was, he had to assume it was close to the ballroom. Hoping it was a warning shot.
“Can’t believe you just ended up flipping onto your stomach for a different man. He treated you better than that. Betray him for another, lesser being.” Zane said, and Jean fought his flinch at the audacity of his accusations. At the pointed look he shot Jean, with hatred overwhelming whatever other emotions Zane was feeling.
“How is Colleen?” Jean asked, and the feeling of Zane’s hands around his neck was at least as familiar as it was violent. His air supply was leaving, and pain engulfed his head. Just as blackness had started to creep into Jean’s vision, he let go. Air and a raging headache came rushing into Jean’s body, and he let himself slump back against the wall he was sitting against.
The door opened and Jeremy was pushed in, and he fell to his knees, unable to keep his balance from the shove. His arms attempted to save his face from planting in the floor, but Zane huffed and pushed Jeremy the rest of the way down, to lay on the hard wood. There was a large gash on his forehead and his eyes were glassy. Jean knew that Jeremy could defend himself without his guns, so he either had been caught extremely off guard or he let it happen. Jean still did not want to see that cloudiness in Jeremy’s beautiful brown eyes.
“Your turn.” Grayson said, and Jean did not move. Not until Grayson showed his knife and raised it against the back of Jeremy’s neck, threatening both the slice of his nape and the now bloodied dress shirt.
“I didn’t expect you to run away to a rich boy, but I should’ve expected you to bend over for anyone. Heard this little prince is a rentboy on the side.”
Jean growled, but got up as the knife got closer to Jeremy’s skin. Grayson smiled, his teeth looked sharp in the low-light of the candles. It was hard to leave, harder to even think about the fact he was leaving Jeremy vulnerable, but at least he knew Zane’s tastes did not include men.
Grayson led him down a set of stairs. Knife exchanged for the usual gun. It was too dark for Jean to not stumble, and he hated that a few months away from the Deck had made him susceptible to harm again. He had lessened his strong control, and it was coming back to bite him.
The image he was greeted with forced bile to the forefront of his throat. His more potent nightmares coming true. Riko was holding Kevin hostage. Gun pressed to the man’s temple. The rest of the Foxes had been unceremoniously grabbed by the other Deck members, and the actual invitees of the ball were cowering in the corners, trying their best to hide from sight. He spotted Laila, hunched over in the corner, but alive. She had not been recognized, although it seemed Jeremy had not been either. Just in the sense that he was the one Jean was with.
Pain grounded him as he dug his fingers into the fragile wrist skin of his left arm. He focused his gaze on Kevin’s haunted gaze. It had been a year since Kevin fled in the middle of the night, running to his father. Riko had a bottle of wine open and was chugging it when Jean was pushed into his view by Grayson, who took a moment to pat his back proprietorially. He repressed his shudder of disgust, just barely, as Riko looked at him up and down.
“Come and share a drink with us, Pretty Boy.” He gestured to Kevin, and poured a hefty glug of alcohol down Kevin’s throat, causing purple to stain his lips and clothes after coughing from the intrusion. Jean was pushed to his knees, when he did not obey immediately. Riko was bright eyed and excited at the thought of having his two lackeys back in his grips. He handed the bottle over to Jean, and when he made no move to grab for it, he pulled out his knife. The glint of the pearl handles was enough to send Jean forward into obeying. He had not drank since his accident, and the Warriors had never pushed, and he had forgotten how much he disliked the taste. Once he slid the bottle back to Riko, his wrists were hastily tied together. Badly if it was Grayson doing the job, but Jean did not try to get loose.
“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable. Using those features to score yourself a job kneeling for the Nancy boy son of the Wilshires.”
A loud affronted, almost fake sounding, gasp sounded from the few stragglers of the ball, and one of the Deck members shot and hit the wall nearby. For a hot, shameful minute, Jean wished he had hit the woman he assumed was Mathilda, but the imagined look of Jeremy’s devastated face was enough to hate the violence swimming in his brain.
“Another sound out of you, and he won’t miss. Anyway, Pretty Boy, I thought I was leaving you for dead, and to my surprise, a sighting of you. Impossibly, alive and well. In another posse. One must ask what he is ponying up to the Warriors to get in on the action without the reputation. I wonder if the Mary has been pirooting each and every man. Once Boot Licker found you and him together, I knew.” Riko clucked his tongue, and then Grayson shoved Jean forward, and he landed on his chest, too close to Riko. He laughed, and shoved Jean’s head up with his boot.
“Kiss my boots, and I’ll consider letting him live. Maybe with less limbs, but still. Breathing.”
Jean lifted his head and bared his teeth instead. His head rattled as Riko kicked it, but it was not as coordinated as he would have been sober. Kevin made a noise, and when Jean regained his vision, he could see the pain and detachment in Kevin’s eyes. He was too far gone. But seeing the remnants of worry and care for Jean, helped, at least a little.
“Uh Uh, Riko chided, before pouring another slosh of liquid into Kevin’s mouth, most of it landing on his face. He sputtered, and before Jean could think a concrete thought, Kevin wrenched himself over Riko, taking a slice from the knife still open in Riko’s hand. It was enough of a surprise that the onslaught of a sudden commotion was enough to distract Riko from Jean, but Kevin was still in Riko’s line of fire.
Neil had broken free of his restraints the second Kevin had shifted and ran toward Riko, too fast for anyone to grab a pistol or shoot it. All but Riko’s own. The shot rang out, but Neil had not been hit. He smiled, feral and terrifying, a facial expression Jean hadn’t seen since his containment. There was a stunned moment of silence before chaos descended upon them. Jean wretched his hands free and got to his knees, just in time to see sparks rain down as a chunk of the ceiling fell. It seemed to have been aimed at a specific part of the room, where there was no one standing.
Jean’s brain was lagging with his headache plus the sudden onslaught of noise combined with gunfire. Everyone was shooting, fighting, and running around. He even saw Laila’s gown flit between bodies before she disappeared into the smoke. It took him a second too long to realize that the Foxes were improvising.
Hands wrenched Jean backwards, and he was caught so off guard he fell hard, landing uncomfortably on his back. Glancing up, he saw the familiar face of Renee smiling down on him.
“Go to your Warriors. We have Kevin.” She promised, her voice steady and full of confidence. He nodded, and she bolted off, aiming her Grapeshot revolver where one of the Deck members was trying to aim for Allison. For seconds, all Jean could do was watch as the Foxes broke free of their captors, shooting and slicing, and avoiding the civilians as they fought. He watched one of them, a name he could not remember, drop his empty gun and start using his fists to pummel one of the Deck to the ground.
Something skittered into the ballroom, and when Jean turned to look at the sound, he was taken aback by the presence of a dog. It was a scraggly thing, more fur than body. It seemed to look right into Jean’s eyes as it let out a yip. He looked at where the dog had come from, an offshoot that he presumed that servants used more than the people who lived here.
There was clearly weight pressed against the door, coming from the inside, and Jean hurried his slightly bruised body to get there. The dog followed, scratching at the wood, and Jean recalled the sound from where he was kept with Zane. It followed the same pattern, strangely. Once the door moved, he saw Jeremy’s body, propped up on the wall, absolutely covered in blood.
“Merde,” Jean spat out, before going to check for the clear injury. But as he searched the planes of fabric, there was nothing bleeding out.
“Not…all...mine…Zane’s…” Jeremy grunted out, before his hand reached out, clearly aiming for Jean’s newly forming bruise on his face. Calloused fingers, but gentle, prodded at the warm skin. Jeremy was clearly out of it, suffering from some sort of head wound, but Jean relished the touches all the same. Another round of gunfire reminded him where he was, and he looked behind him for any sign of Laila or any of the Foxes.
“Not so fast, pretty boy.” Riko growled out, appearing from the plaster dust pluming all around. The blood vessels in his right eye had broken, and combined with a burn bubbling and popping on his cheek, he looked only a few seconds from collapsing. But he held his gun, aiming directly at Jean’s heart.
He felt the grip of Jeremy’s hands on his jacket, clearly going to yank him with whatever strength he had left, but Jean grabbed Jeremy's wrist, untangling his fingers from the fabric, he hoped that the dog would provide Jeremy with enough comfort when Riko killed him. Somehow the beast seemed to understand, and from where he was laying slightly in the shadows of the hallway, he nosed his palm into Jeremy’s hand.
Jean looked back at Riko, before putting his hands up and standing up. He had no need to memorize this last moment with Jeremy. Every single one of their moments were seared onto his brain. He pressed the servants door closed, and felt the warm muzzle of RIko’s gun on the nape of his neck.
“I will always own you…” Riko whispered, hot breath cloying in his ear, and Jean thought about the almost kiss in the barn, before they went to drop off Jeremy’s mother. Jean knew they had been building to something, something that made the heat in Jean’s chest spark, and he thought of that now, as the end of his life encroached upon him. Jean remembered Jeremy’s bright smile, its own star in Jean’s universe, lighting up the rest of his face. Of his brown eyes reflecting in the light to reveal the golden flecks throughout. Of the one dimple that graced the left side of his mouth, the one Jean has pictured kissing.
When the gun went off, Jean was in the middle of remembering a quiet moment that the two had a few weeks ago, where they had rode out to a meadow with the girls at sunset, and watched the stars appear. Jeremy had pointed out the few he knew, and Cat had made a star map. Jean had felt good, felt as if he belonged to this ragtag family. The four of them. Jean, Jeremy, Laila, and Cat, laying in the slightly itchy grass, and laughing.
The world rushed back in a second later, and Jean realized he was not dead. His eyes wide, and his hands shaking, he turned over his shoulder to see Kevin. He was holding the smoking gun, and Riko was dead on the floor, blood flowing from his forehead. The clang of the gun was harsh against Jean’s ears, but he went to Kevin anyway, and hugged him fiercely. It was unusual for them, the physical affection, but Jean had learned to love it, and Kevin needed it.
It took a few moments, but Kevin’s arms came around Jean, squeezing back just as hard.
“Jean!” Cat came running for him, and when she saw he was standing and not bleeding from anything major, she shuddered out a breath of relief. Laila appeared behind her, covered in soot and blood. Jean unclasped himself from the hug, but kept his hand on Kevin’s shoulder, when he tilted his head to the door right behind him.
“Jeremy is in there. Hurt, but not lethally. Head injury for sure.”
Laila rushed past the men and carefully opened the door, and Jean watched, making sure that he was in her good hands. She nodded at him, and then with the help of Cat, they gifted Jeremy to his feet. He was awake, barely, and his eyes caught on Jean’s. A smile peeked out from his lips and Jean felt his response in kind.
“Meet us at home. We will get everyone out and safe.” Cat said, pulling Jean down to place a kiss on his hair, knowing he needed to talk to Kevin and the rest.
“I’ll tell him that you’ll be back in a few days, okay?” She whispered, and Jean nodded, before straightening up with a slight wince of pain. Both Kevin and Jean watched the three leave, but the dog sat by Jean’s feet instead of following. He nudged him, and the dog seemed to glare at him, but he turned and trotted after Jeremy’s limping, but alive body. Laila reached down and scratched the top of his head, and he licked her hand in thanks.
“Come’on, we have to get out of here,” Neil said, appearing with a limping Andrew in his orbit. Kevin nodded to Jean and he followed the Foxes out to where they were recouping. He took a lingering look at the manor that was now smoking. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, and the beautiful elements that had captured his attention at the beginning of the night were gone. Wiped out in its entirety. Jean turned to catch Kevin as he stumbled over his own feet, and turned from the house.
They headed to wherever they were staying, a short walk but a grating one on some of their injuries, according to the various groans and winces of pain as they went along. Jean whispered,
“Thank you,”
Kevin glanced up, drunkenness had faded to a weariness, and his French had a bone tired sort of affect,
“I would do anything for you. Keep you alive.” It was still slightly slurred, but Jean understood.
“I know. That is why you sent me to them,” Jean gently bumped Kevin’s shoulder, and Kevin nodded.
“I wish the foxes would have worked, but…”
Jean huffed a laugh,
“I do not think I could have healed with these sidewinders. But the Warriors. They are good. I like them.” He admitted, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Jean kept Kevin up, but when they all crashed into the house, it was a collective sigh of relief.
Everyone clearly had rooms and established roommates, but they all grabbed blankets and linens and pillows before piling into the large parlor. Jean gently pushed Kevin into a chair, and sat in front of it, his legs coming up so he could lay his chin on them. The night passed with a first aid kit, and alcohol, which Jean turned down for both Kevin and himself, but Neil had just shrugged before handing the bottle to Allison to have. Jean watched from his position, how they moved around each other like a dysfunctional, and traumatized family. Even Kevin got into the pile the Foxes created, as they wound down and slept, all limbs twined with each other. Jean likened it to the way the actual animal cubs would sleep, all clumped together.
Jean did not sleep, aware enough of his nightmares to know they would be haunting him that night, so instead, he made himself coffee out of the remaining bits in their kitchen before settling down on a couch, closer to Neil then the rest of them, and he began to write. It was partially in French, but he knew both Neil could read the language, and Kevin would allow Neil to read it to him. If his knowledge of reading the language has improved, Jean did not know, but he spent the night writing.
He knew he would head home in the morning, in whatever mode of transportation he could, but for now, he lingered in the house. As it neared the time when he knew he would leave, he folded the letter and placed it on the table, with it addressed to Kevin.
“Will we see you again?” Renee asked, sleepily, the only one awake at the crack of dawn, her body curled around Allison protectively, her arm slung low over her lover’s hips.
“Not for a while, I think. Now that Riko is dead.” Jean replied, looking back at her kind eyes.
She nodded, and smiled at him,
“Stay alive, Golden, and remember to enjoy life while you’re at it,”
He smiled, shy and true, before pushing open the door to the slightly chilly air, just barely starting to heat up with the presence of the sun. A shadow of two familiar horses blocked his way, and he saw that Cody had Koda and Bleu, ready to go.
“Jeremy’s been asking for your thoughts on naming a dog?” He asked, and Jean shook his head, mounting Bleu and squeezing his thighs to get her moving.
“I do not care for the beast. He may name him whatever.”
Cody laughed, and his
“Well, last I heard it was Jabberwocky Moreau.”
Jean scoffed, thinking that regardless of his bad tastes in names. Jeremy was becoming, or had already been, Jean's north star. Jean turned away, heading towards home.
Towards Jeremy.
Chapter 15: An Interlude
Summary:
Jean’s letter to Kevin (and Neil)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dear Kevin,
It has been 9 months since I was taken from the grips of death, and since then, it has been too hard to think about how you and I left things. I think I may always have this confusing lump of interconnected threads, pulling me towards and away from you.
One one hand, the way that you left in the first place, had created a crater for me to fall into. Riko had not wanted to lose his uncooperative right hand, only having me to slice and cut into a more fragile submission. It had hurt. That the one person who had treated me with any humanity at all, not just a whore for Riko to shove onto any willing skin, had needed to betray me in order to escape. My more rational brain knows it was the only way for you to leave, that I would have chewed my own arm off before stepping outside of his bounds.
On the other hand, you had treated me with a rare kindness, one that I had not known at that point, one that I cannot forget. Perhaps I will always feel that pulse of heartbeat when I think of those moments, where we leaned in close, and whispered my, this, language between us, but it will not be the only one that I will ever feel.
But now, I have felt the rays of sunshine on my face, the head has turned me, and I now know that while your kindness was not rare, it was genuine. You will always sit heavy in my heart, but now, both because of you (and Renee, and perhaps Neil) and the Warriors, I have found the truth of your incessant ramblings. That they do good work, and are good. You brought me there, so I must thank you. And now that I know appetite comes with eating, I will crave the hunger that I feel for my new place in this world.
I hope we will meet again, and that you have more chances to discuss the ‘beauty of true horsemanship’ with Jeremy.
With all the feelings I can muster about this, Goodbye dear friend,
Jean & Bleu (Jeremy named her, much to my chagrin, but she enjoys it)
Notes:
Unfortunately all I registered from my years was how to read English in a French accent and so I do not know enough French from my high school classes to write this even partially in the language, but I did include some french idioms.
mirandathepanda on Chapter 1 Wed 30 Apr 2025 10:16AM UTC
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YouPickUrPoison on Chapter 4 Thu 17 Jul 2025 04:34PM UTC
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demiurgebilly on Chapter 5 Fri 23 May 2025 02:31AM UTC
Last Edited Fri 23 May 2025 02:31AM UTC
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Selun3 on Chapter 11 Fri 18 Jul 2025 05:59PM UTC
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Selun3 on Chapter 13 Wed 13 Aug 2025 07:59PM UTC
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