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musings-of-a-lovesick-fool · 9 months

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Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 3k

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This was insane.

It was more than insane, it couldn't be real—this couldn't be happening.

But it was. No matter how many times Dean Sinclaire blinked or shook his head the blue eyes staring back at him didn't go away. Jacob Seed, a name and a face he hadn't seen in a very long time, stood up on the church's stage with a similar look of shock on his marred face. Dean felt like a deer in headlights, staring down an impending doom he couldn't ever hope to comprehend.

The voices of his Sheriff and the outta town Marshal were like white noise, none of it made it through as Dean stared at his old friend in utter confusion. What the hell had happened to him? A lot by the looks of it. Dean ducks his head down, unable to handle the foreign yet so familiar face zoned in on him. He'd really been hoping the last name of this cult family had been a coincidence, that it was possibly more common than he thought. But now faced with the truth of it all Dean felt the weight of reality crushing him into the old, creaky floorboards.

This sucked. His breath caught in his throat and his ears rang, hands balling up into fists as the Marshal grabbed his shoulder.

"Cuff this guy Rook."

Dean lifted his head.

Joseph Seed stared back at him, a look in his eyes that unsettled Dean and rocked him to his core. It was an expectant look, like he had been waiting for him much longer than the short minutes his superiors had been talking for. He tried not to glance over his shoulder at Jacob but he felt his heavy stare as he cuffed the cult leader, hands shaking as he secured him.

"God will not let you take me."

The words were sharp. They made Dean want to turn back time and crawl back into his bed and forget he ever got a call from the sheriff.

Dean felt his mouth fall open as Joseph leaned in closer to him, blue eyes glazed by the golden aviators and promising a fate none of them were ready for. He felt like he was going to be sick, the small church was even more suffocating than before. His brown eyes flickered to Jacob, an unconscious action he quickly regretted. There was no comfort to be gained from his face which had steeled, his eyes that had hardened and he looked like nothing but a stranger to Dean. An angry cultist ready to cut his hands off for even daring to put them on his brother.

He realises then he'd never been this close to Joseph, not even when they were kids. He'd only ever waved to him and John from the sidewalk before he and Jacob ran off to their spot. His hands hovered over Joseph's wrists, the little boy who so often had his shirt on inside out now covered in scars and tattoos, he was someone else entirely. His skin was clammy or maybe Dean's was. He tugged Joseph forward, stepping around him and placing his hand on his bare shoulder in a robotic motion. He had to focus, despite so many visions blurring together behind his eyelids and confusing his mind, he had to stay in the present.

He had a job to do and these people were dangerous criminals. The past was the past. He didn't really know them, despite what his mind said to him. Not any more, anyway.

The thoughts churned away in his stomach as he led Joseph out of the church, feeling Jacob and John's eyes burn into the back of his head. He followed his coworkers, almost deaf to the rioting Peggies, blind to their swarming bodies as he stared at the side of Joseph's face. He thought back to the video he'd watched in the chopper, glanced down at Joseph's hands and remembered how they were stained in another man's blood. He remembered a time they'd been covered in paint, did he still like to paint?

What? What the fuck was he thinking? That wasn't important—He sucked in a sharp breath as something knocked into his shoulder, Joey rushing back to him to shove away a Peggie that had apparently gotten too close without him realising.

"Fuck Rook, keep your eyes open! What are you doing?" She shouted at him. He uttered a quiet apology and tightened his grip on Joseph but he couldn't focus, everything felt wrong. This wasn't right. None of this was right. He caught Joseph's gaze and shoved him forward, fighting to get away from those haunted eyes as soon as humanly possible.

This would be over soon and he'd just fucking quit. Forget this ever happened and finally learn how to play the stupid guitar gathering dust in his room. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Sounded better than the possibility of having to face whatever this was.

He pushed Joseph into the helicopter, climbed into his seat and buckled himself in, off balance amidst the chaos. Peggies climb over the vehicle like ants, the shouts are like bullets and Dean focuses his gaze on the eyes staring him down. Joseph is singing, he can barely hear it but he can see his lips move as the words flow out. Amazing Grace. Dean swallowed thickly, feeling a hand wrap around his arm and nearly pull him out of the plane. As he kicked the Peggie off of him the chopper lifted off the ground and Joseph, he just kept singing.

Vaguely Dean can remember Jacob mentioning a school choir, the thought of Joseph being in it is soured by his current visage. Any warm feeling Dean could have felt about it is dust in the wind as the chopper went up and bodies dropped down. Bullets whizzed past his head, bounced off the metal and into the blades of the chopper. His coworkers' shouts finally registered in his ears but there was nothing he could do but sit and helplessly listen.

Dean's head knocked back against the headrest, the helicopter turning sideways and wind and smoke stole all the air from his lungs. The horrid feeling of falling filled his gut and the hand that grabbed hold of his flying hand brought not even an ounce of relief. Joseph was still singing even as they descended to the earth. They didn't even make it off the island, the wreckage lying just outside of the compound.

The world was white noise, Dean didn't want to open his eyes, even as he heard Nancy's pleading voice over the radio. He wanted to check on his fellow deputies, his sheriff, the Marshal…. But he had never wanted more for something to be a nightmare. He willed himself to wake up but his body already had and he was still hanging upside down in that fucking chopper. Pain bloomed in his neck as his senses came back to him fully, the sensations and aches all over his body bringing tears to his eyes and forcing them open.

The smoke from the flaming vehicle stung his eyes and he coughed as it snuck past his lips. He could see the Marshal and Joey, both unconscious and looking worse for wear. Dread washed over him at the empty seat in front of him, he twisted his neck to the side but immediately hissed and pulled it back. That hurt. That hurt real bad.

Nancy cried through the radio and Dean tried raising his arms, not to grab the dangling headset but to see if he could unbuckle himself. The faster he got out of here the better. But fate really wasn't on his side today and a hand grabbed his wrist halfway to its destination. Dean wanted to scream, yank his arm away and block him out like a bad memory. But he hadn't been, until now. He'd been a sweet one.

Joseph crouched down in front of him, and Dean recalled a time he and John peaked down at him from their roof as he hid candy bars under their porch. That was just before they left… Dean squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, fighting away the memory and focusing on the dirtier, bloody image of the man in front of him now. Stay focused. He chided himself silently as Joseph leaned closer.

"I told you God wouldn't let you take me."

Dean wanted to bring his head forward and slam into his, knock him out and maybe give himself a moment to escape but he knew from where he was that would be almost impossible. Joseph grabbed the headset and brought it to his lips, keeping his eyes locked onto Dean as he did. He wanted to watch his expression, see the look in his eyes as he got out what he had to say next.

"Dispatch?"

Nancy gasped, Dean's jaw tensed.

"Everything is fine, no need to call anyone." Joseph's voice is monotone, deceptively soft to anyone not staring into his cold eyes at that moment. Dean tunes out Nancy, the assured tone in Joseph's voice told him all he needed to know about his sweet old coworker. Of course he'd had plants in the department, probably Jacob's idea. He was always the strategist. Dean felt his face twist involuntarily, his emotions clear as day on his face and for a moment it looked like Joseph's softened. Something deep in his eye as he let go of Dean's wrist and cupped his cheek in his hand.

"Jacob used to talk about you every night, when we were in that old barn… He missed you…" Joseph studied his face as he spoke quietly, gaze calculating and his touch anything but welcoming. Joseph nodded to himself after a moment, a silent thought he didn't voice lost on Dean as he finally turned and crawled out of the helicopter's decomposing carcass. Peggies rushed to him, shouting in rejoice of his safety and Dean brought his arms up again to grab at his seat belt.

Panic filled him. It was odd. He'd never been scared of Jacob, not once. But right now… He felt a pang of fear at how he was looking at him.

That white noise returned as tears welled in Dean's eyes. What the fuck had been the point of telling him that? It would have been kinder to stab him.

He cursed as he fumbled with the belt, noticing Joey and the Marshal beginning to stir as Joseph spoke to his followers in a loud, booming voice. A voice that commanded attention yet failed to keep Dean's. He glanced at Joey, a fleeting thought to maybe reach over and help her out first fizzled away by the sight of familiar red hair once again. Jacob stood by the car his brother had taken to standing on, his blue eyes zeroed in on him with a look he could no longer read.

"Begin the reaping!" Joseph's voice roared out into the night air and like a tape being put into fast forward everything started buzzing forward at an alarming rate. Anxiety built up in Dean as the Peggies descended on the helicopter, he shouted uselessly as they grabbed Joey, grabbed onto her and tried to yank her back into the helicopter as they dragged her out. He cried out in frustration as she slipped through his fingers and again as flames erupted and pushed back the oncoming Peggies.

The Marshal was out of there before he could blink, the Sheriff and Staci had been pulled out by the Peggies and Dean finally got his seat belt off in a messy motion. His neck ached as he hit the roof of the chopper and he almost cried from the anger he felt, flopping onto his side before he crawled out of the ticking time bomb. He fretted seeing Jacob waiting for him but as he pushed himself up and began to run nothing stopped him, no one grabbed him. Bullets whizzed past his head but he avoided the cascade of them as he sucked and swerved through the trees.

Dean skidded down the wet forest floor, jumped over a small trickle of water and stones, climbed up a steep hillside and past a bridge that looked far too out in the open to have crossed from the other side. He was running on adrenaline and he almost missed the radio call from the Marshal spouting off his vague location. He was still thinking about the haunting faces that refused to leave his mind. What had gone so wrong, what could have led them here? He had so many questions, so many regrets and no way to get conciliation with any of them.

Somehow, almost by pure dumb luck, Dean stumbled upon the trailer the Marshal was hiding away in. He carefully made his way to the door, glancing over his shoulder as he turned the handle. Hands grabbed onto the front of his uniform and yanked him inside, he gasped from the swift movement and blindly grabbed at his attacker. The Marshal's face became clear in his vision and he threw his hands up in defense.

"Wait! It's me, it's me!" Dean squawked, twisting away and frantically waving his hands in an attempt to dissuade the Marshal's misguided attack on him. Relief and recognition washed over the Marshal's face and his shoulders slumped as he lowered his arm.

"Oh fuck Rook, you made it, thank God."

The Marshal patted his shoulders in a friendly way but Dean didn't lower his arms, he really just wanted to go home. He cautiously followed after the Marshal as he walked further into the trailer, pausing as he grabbed a mock family photo off the wall and smashed it to the ground with a promise to put them all away. Dean stared down at it, three faces he knew and one he'd never seen before. Well, they may as well all have been strangers to him, the three men nothing like the three boys seared into his memory.

"We're gonna get out of this Rookie, first things first, we gotta arm ourselves—Here." The Marshal pulled Dean from his frozen stance, tossing him a gun. Dean fumbled but caught it, watching as he grabbed another gun and checked it over. This was really happening. He was stuck on an island full of people who wanted him dead and his childhood friend and his siblings were at the forefront of it all. Fuck, how did he get here?

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

Dean had never envisioned himself as a cop, never envisioned himself living in a County in Montana either. Of all places, why did he end up here? Of all places, why did they end up here? What sick and twisted turn of fate was this? This was not how movies showed reunions going down, one party turned into a cult and the other a cop meant to arrest them. This was so out of the realm of possibilities Dean had run over in his head, it was unfair. This was all un-fucking-fair.

"You hearin' me Rook?" The Marshal shoved his shoulder and he realized he hadn't heard a word he'd said to him.

"Man this is life or death right now are you really daydreaming on me?" The Marshal asked incredulously and Dean bowed his head bashfully.

"Sorry I… Fuck. I'm just—I don't know." Dean ran a hand down his face, a tightness building in his chest as he put himself into a ready position. He shook his head and forced his gaze back up to the window.

"Okay look, just—"

"Come around here! Check the trailer first!"

Dean's heart sank just as fast as the Marshal's face dropped. He shushed Dean as his mouth flew open to ask what the plan was and Dean nodded wordlessly, gripping his gun nervously. He'd never been in a firefight before, fuck he'd never used a gun before. The one the department gave him was more of a prop and he never even had it loaded. This was so fucked.

The Marshal nodded towards the other window and Dean crouched down and shuffled towards it, gasping as the Peggies began to shout and the glass in front of him exploded from a bullet breaking through. He ducked down and hid under the frame, heart hammering in his chest as he watched the Marshal shoot out the window with a confident aim Dean knew he didn't have in him. Still, he couldn't let him go at this alone so he sucked up his fear and pushed himself back up.

He fired warning shots, close to the Peggies but nowhere near landing on them. The Marshal hurried out of the trailer to make ground, firing away as Dean provided him cover. A bullet went right past Dean's cheek, the heat and sting searing his skin and forcing him back for a moment. Fighting the shock Dean messily reloaded his gun and followed the Marshal out of the trailer, ducking down behind the small cover they had.

"Keep 'em off me Rook I'm goin' for the truck!" The Marshal instructed him through a short yell, not giving him time to reply as he jumped up and started moving. Dean swirled to a kneeling position and raised his gun, firing a shot at a Peggie pointing their gun right at the Marshal. Time seemed to slow as his bullet made impact with their body, he hadn't meant to actually hit them. He froze, watching their body curl and face twist into one of pure agony. The world went quiet, white noise enveloping the shouting and gunfire.

He watched as the Peggie fell out of sight and he felt his stomach drop. Had he just…?

"Rook, cover me!"

A bullet clipped his hair, another skidded over his shoulder.

He moved in slow motion, firing more shots at the Peggies and making the ballsy ones duck for cover. His vision got blurry, his throat tightened and his hands shook as he heard the truck engines start. He kept glancing to where the Peggie he shot had fallen, praying to see their matted hair pop back up and an angry face glower at him again.

But they didn't.

"Rook, get in!" The Marshal stopped the truck and shouted at him and Dean didn't dawdle, he jumped up and into the truck, falling into the passenger seat and slamming the door closed. Everything felt like a bad trip, Dean felt like he was about to puke and he hung his head between his knees as the Marshal began to drive, bullets reverberating off the truck's shell.

"Fuck…" He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as he sucked in deep breaths. Panic spread out along all of his limbs and he rocked gently as he tried to keep his breathing even. He just killed someone, he just killed someone—

"We're not outta the woods yet Rookie, up ahead!" The Marshal yanked him back up, and he was right back in the seemingly never-ending nightmare.

#far cry 5 oc #jacob seed x oc #SMFYaM Tag #Multichapter Tag #Far Cry Tag #Dean Tag #okay okay okay I have a few multichapter things in progress but I wanna do this one first to prove to myself I can finish one #it's gonna be low stakes no plan balls to wall do whatever my heart desires in the moment so wish me luck

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musings-of-a-lovesick-fool · 9 months

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Wordcount: 3k

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How did he end up agreeing to this again? Dean pondered that very thought as he clung to the all too high radio tower, hands shaking as he clung to the metal that swayed far too much in the wind for him to be comfortable. He remembered trying to shove the gun and map back at the old vet only to have them shoved right back. Dutch was not taking no for an answer and Dean didn't feel like hanging around in an underground bunker where he was overstaying his welcome.

After Dutch had given him an additional backpack and handheld radio he took his leave.

He'd followed Dutch's guidance, his hope of a plan miraculously coming to him dissipating as soon as he'd stepped foot out of the bunker and into the morning air. Everything had settled over him at once, the realisation all of this was really, truly happening and there was no turning back now. As he'd blindly gone down the path ahead of him Joseph's voice rang in his ears. As he helped free civilians, leaving the gun tucked into his waistband with the safety on, it felt like Jacob's steely blue eyes were always staring at him, searing into the back of his neck like a bullet wound.

He had to admit, choking people out didn't feel any better than shooting them. If anything it almost felt worse, feeling them thrash around in his grip as he squeezed around their necks like a python constricting its prey. Feeling them go limp was the worst part. His only comfort was the continued gentle rise and fall of their chest as he hid their bodies in bushes.

As he had been climbing this stupid tower he felt like screaming into the wind, no one would hear him anyway. Well, maybe the guy at the bottom of the tower would, Jim—Nice guy, Jim—from the dock who he'd brought along if only to be a possible witness if he plummeted to the ground below and met a grisly demise. It would be really pathetic if gravity was what took him down, he could just imagine the look on Jacob's face if he…

Dean bit his tongue.

He really had to stop thinking about him like that. Like they were still friends. Like all these years apart hadn't done irreparable damage and the redhead hadn't turned into the one thing they both vowed they'd never let themselves be. As he clenched his teeth he felt his foot slip and a flush of panic went through his whole body as he went in the wrong direction for a split second. His hand shot out and he wrapped himself around the ladder he was climbing, pulling himself flush against it as his heart skipped a few beats before kicking into full gear.

He gasped out a ragged breath as he hooked his foot back onto one of the slats. He squeezed his eyes shut as nausea, fear and frustration all fused together to sit over his chest in a heavy cloud. Fuck, he hated the feeling of falling so much. And the knowledge that if the speck of a man at the bottom of the tower tried to catch him at this height they would both end up being pancakes on the ground did not help his failing confidence. Speaking of Jim he could barely hear him call up to him, probably asking if he was okay. If anything Dean appreciated the knowledge he was actually watching him instead of fucking off, good guy.

He sucked in a few deep breaths, really wishing he'd just tossed the gun and map away and headed back to the small cabin he'd snagged at a deal on the edge of Holland Valley and The Whitetail Mountains. How he missed his bed firmly planted safely on the ground. Maybe if he made it off this island he could go back there… But realistically he knew that was not an option. And he'd already dragged Jim all the way out here, he needed to get him somewhere safe before abandoning his new post.

"Okay, come on." He whispered to himself, breathing out in short huffs to rid the anxiety before he began climbing again. Once he made it to the final platform he gripped onto the metal column for dear life. He shimmied around to the side, pausing at the sight of an obnoxious looking switch. It couldn't be that fucking simple right? The cult hadn't cut the radio signal by sending their own dolt up here to flip this thing right? That just made him feel like a fuckin clown. He rested his forehead against the cool metal for a moment, taking a second to accept his ridiculous position.

He was really doing this huh?

Fuck, alright.

He reached up and grabbed hold of the handle, pulling it down and hearing a less than satisfying click followed by a low buzzing. After a moment that buzzing was joined in by radio static.

"Good job kid, I'm getting a real strong signal now!" Dutch's voice crackled through the radio as Dean glanced over the landscape below him. If it were any other day it would have been a view worth marvelling, maybe he would have stayed up there for an hour or two enjoying it. Securely tied to it though, maybe. He then spotted the zipline right in front of him, eyeing the blue rope with a bit of wonder and disdain. He'd always wanted to ride one of those things, but he also didn't know if he trusted his upper body strength to get him all the way to the ground.

Dutch began to spout off information, each Seeds name listed off with a new one added in; Faith Seed. The woman he'd seen in the church beside John, the photo pinned up on that map in Dutch's bunker. He wondered how he never ran into her if she'd been set up in the Henbane River, he guessed he hadn't been around long enough to have the opportunity. Maybe it was for the best, although her appearance had seemed soft there was something in the energy radiating off of her that told him she was just as dangerous as the men she stood beside.

Dean shrugged the thought away, glanced down the ladder and sighed deeply. The thought of climbing back all the way down was just as daunting as the blue rope beside his head.

He weighed up his options, he remembered Dutch had shoved something into the backpack with the word 'zipline' tossed out with it. As carefully as he could Dean slid the backpack off one shoulder, swinging it around and opening it up and rummaging around in it. He pulled out something that looked like a frankenstein handlebar, two hand holds and a middle piece looking like it would fit nice and snug around the rope. Dean zipped up the backpack and secured it around his shoulder again, slowly moving the franken-handhold over the rope.

It sank into place like it was made for it and with Dutch's voice in his ear and the faint, faded memory of doing something like this when he was a kid—With Jacob's encouragement—swimming in his mind he pushed off of the platform.

He felt gravity drag him down, felt the strain on his muscles and the rope as he flew through the air. Air flew past his face, whipped his hair around wildly and flushed out all the old air in his lungs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, he wasn't falling to his delight; he was flying. This felt fucking great. He laughed, kicking his legs forward and feeling weightless for the first time in a while. It felt like a reset, his system booting back up as he landed on the other end of the line. His boots dug into the ground and he let himself fall to his knees and dig his fingers into the damp grass beneath him.

His chest heaved as he sucked in breath through small bouts of laughter. He really needed that.

"I just got a transmission coming out of Holland Valley kid, you're gonna wanna see this."

And just like that, his small moment of reprieve was gone.

Dean left Jim at the ranger station, figuring it was as safe as anywhere right now, then headed back to Dutch's bunker. He paused at the entrance, his earlier sentiment of not wanting to back down there rang true but Dutch had been insistent he needed to see this broadcast from the younger Seed. Dean meandered, staring into the dark and damp space with a wavering gaze. Did he really need to see it? He wasn't sure how much of John Seed he wanted to see, how much of his memory he wanted to taint.

He took one step, and then another. Down he went, until he was face to face with Dutch again. Much sooner than he'd planned, which had been never. The static from the tv screen was obnoxious but what it switched over too was much worse. John turned and without the darkness of the church Dean could see him so much clearer. Something twisted within him at the sight of the jagged scar on his chest, an old anger blooming and directed at an old man long dead by now. But even that old ghost wouldn't have taken a knife to his skin, as much as the word was something he'd definitely agree with.

John spoke and he sounded like someone else, he didn't know who but it didn't sound like the boy he knew. But the boy he knew was also a lot of heads shorter and missing a few teeth. Dean found a familiar stinging in his eyes as the stranger did his sadistic dance and song on the screen, the cruel reality that he was twisted so far beyond who he'd ever had the chance to be even more depressing than the state of his old friend somehow. How old had he been when they left? He could barely remember now. A faded letter hidden in a box under his bed had the mention of a 6th birthday in a barn with a dry muffin as a cake.

Dean just hoped in the low light of the bunker Dutch wouldn't notice the added glassiness to his eyes, or put it down to sympathy for his colleague now on screen with a terrified and tear stained face.

It was jarring seeing her like that and a new wave of anger washed over him at how John put his hands on her in a silent threat. The smile on his face as she struggled against him was nothing kind. Dean knew Joey was a badass but she was also only human and John had all the power and numbers on her here. Dean's mind felt stretched, pulled thin as it tried to corral all the new information washing over him in a heavy wave. He had to help Joey. He had to know if Lola was alright. Where was Staci? Where had they taken the Marshal? Was Whitehorse okay? Was he okay?

"Kid…"

Dutch placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and he jumped away from it like he'd been burnt. He hadn't realised his chest had begun to rise and fall rapidly, his breathing had become uneven and his unfocused eyes had missed the end of the transmission altogether. It was probably for the best, it didn't seem like John had said anything he wanted to hear.

"Dep—"

"I gotta go." Dean gasped out, the words a rough and scratchy mixture as he stumbled out of the room. Dutch called after him but the blood rushing to his head made him deaf to the older man. He had to get out of his head, maybe another go down a zipline would help—if only.

The ground under his feet felt like it was moving without him, sending him off balance. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a few deep breaths.

He had people to protect. Joey needed him, Staci too probably wherever he was. And that's all he could think about as he got outside, breaking into a desperate run as he gunned it for the bridge to Holland Valley. Heart thrumming in his ears as he fought to keep his mind clear. The reset to his system had definitely made him sure of one thing; he was in this. And if he was in he was going to give it his all, whatever that ended up meaning. Right now that meant getting his partners back.

He was sure Lola could hold out at the jail a little longer without him, if she was even still there.

Getting into Holland Valley had been the easy part of this impulsive rescue mission.

Dean had failed to ask any question that would get him to Joey. He had no damn idea where John had taken her or how to get there and Dutch sure gave him an earful about just running off how he did. Not that he was someone who should be criticising anyone else's manners. He did tell him to head to Fall's End, supposedly the people there could help him. He was hoping they could, because as he dragged his feet across the grassy earth in an almost aimless direction he felt his rage simmering.

Now the problem was finding Falls End, he'd only visited Holland Valley once or twice in his short months in the County and that was mainly to check out Gardenview Orchard. It had been a good day, Lola had tagged along and dragged Staci with them too. That happy memory offered a moment of comfort that slowly faded off into mournful spite. When was the next time any of them would get a good day like that? Dean paused at the top of a hill, watching a deer and its fawn meander by the treeline.

He sighed and shrugged off the backpack again, pulling out the stupid map despite knowing it wouldn't help him any. The marked off spots meant nothing to him, the landmarks barely recognizable outside of the 2D planes of the paper. Dean squinted at the bridge he'd supposedly taken to get here, running a finger in the vague direction he'd walked. He twisted and turned as he looked around, trying to see if he could wrap his head around where he was. If only Dutch had given him a compass along with this thing.

If his guess was right he was south west of the town, if he could find a road he should be able to find it. He mutters under his breath in frustration, marching on with the map clenched in his fist. He went on like that for about a mile, his determined steps slowly losing steam as he felt himself veering further away from where he thought he was. He froze as a gunshot rebounded in the air, somewhere to the east of him hidden within the dense trees. He thought about grabbing the gun from his waistband but he just lowered himself to the ground instead.

He crouch-walked to the treeline, hiding in the bushes as he pushed forward cautiously. He wasn't getting anywhere anyway so this detour wasn't really a problem, if someone needed his help maybe they could help direct him afterwards.

He stuffed the map back into his backpack, not fully closing it as he continued parallel to a dirt path. Voices started coming into hearing range, a man chanting off some words in an angry tone and a woman sobbing and swearing at her captors. Dean felt sick realising he would probably be hearing a lot of this sort of thing now. He swallowed the lump in his throat as a group of three came into view, two peggies and one civilian; hands tied behind her back. One peggie was reading from a book while the other taunted and paced in front of their hostage.

Dean noted his rifle and the shotgun slung over the other one's shoulder. There were only two of them, no problem.

He got closer, careful to not make too much noise. They were both facing each other so he couldn't use the tactic he'd used on Dutch's island, he had to be a bit more direct. He steadied himself, formulating a plan in his head as he grabbed hold of two trees beside him. Once the Peggie with the rifle had done his fifth lap Dean threw himself forward, he knocked the Peggie to the ground with the forward force and scrambled to grab the one still left standing.

He was met with a struggle, that white book flying off to the side as the Peggie brought his hands up to wrestle Dean away. Dean managed to hook his hands around the shotgun, using the strap to pull the Peggie and toss him to the side. He fell onto his side and the shotgun stayed firmly in Dean's hands. A hand grabbed his ankle and he swung on instinct, cracking the butt of the shotgun into the other Peggies forehead with a hard smack.

He groaned in pain and recoiled, giving Dean a chance to land another hit to the back of his head. It felt dirty—it felt wrong. The crack of the gun against skull and the drop of his body left a foul taste in Dean's mouth. But he didn't have time to mull over how this act of violence made him feel, the other Peggie rammed into his legs and knocked him to the ground in a swift motion. He felt the air get knocked out of him and the shotgun slid out of reach.

He coughed, groaning and raising his arm as the Peggie began climbing over him. A grime covered hand made contact with his ribs and Dean grunted at the blossom of pain—At least it was familiar. The ache of a punch was something he could take. He shoved away the Peggies arm as it drew in for another punch, lifting his leg and using his knee to knock the guy off of him. He uses the momentum to get on top of the Peggie, landing his own punch square in the middle of his face.

He felt the cartilage of his nose under his knuckles, felt it bend close to snapping as the force of his punch spread through it. The Peggies head bounced off the ground beneath him, blood flew through the air and landed mainly on Dean's hand. The Peggie groaned and his eyes rolled back but Dean wasn't done, he drew his arm back and landed another punch, this time to his cheek. The bone is less forgiving and he knew he'd have a bruise after this, but so would the guy under him—As well as a killer headache so, fair was fair.

The Peggie goes limp under him and he sits back with a ragged breath, heart hammering against his ribcage as he drags his eyes over the two unconscious men. That could have gone smoother, but at least it was done.

"God, thank you, I thought I was going to die!" A broken sob pulls Dean out of his guarded stupor and he twists around to see the woman sobbing and looking straight at him. Her red hair was a mess, falling in her face and sticking to the liquids covering her face. He feels his expression soften and he turns back around, looking over the Peggies and taking a hunting knife from the thigh holster of the one laying face down. He pushes himself to his feet and walks behind the woman, kneeling down and cutting the zip tie around her wrist.

"You're okay now, can you stand?" He spoke softly, staying low and offering her his hand as she rubbed her wrists. She took it gladly and he helped hoist her to her feet, she was unsteady for a moment before she let out a shaky breath and offered Dean a grateful smile.

"Thank you, I was on my way to my friend Rae Rae's house when these psychos grabbed me! I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't come along." Her words spilled over like a waterfall with a hint of an accent and Dean could only nod and offer a strained smile. He never did like sticking around for the praise part of helping people, especially right now. It didn't feel like he'd done anything worth a 'thank you'.

"I'm glad I could help, I was actually trying to find Fall's End. Guess it's a good thing I have no sense of direction…" He muttered, lifting his hand to fix his hair only to pause at the sight of his bloody knuckles. It had been a while since they'd looked like that.

"Well—Fall's End is to the west of here… I'll tell you what, if you can take me to Rae Rae's we'll get you to Fall's End," Her brown eyes lit up as she pointed over his shoulder with a dainty hand.

Dean glanced up at her and over his shoulder in the supposed direction of Fall's End, it was a fair deal and given the circumstances he couldn't find a reason to turn down the offer.

"You got yourself a deal Ma'am."

#far cry 5 oc #jacob seed x oc #SMFYaM Tag #Far Cry Tag #Dean Tag #Multichapter Tag

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