#maybe 'let's talk about this' is an insidious military tactic sometimes actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foxtophat · 4 years

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WHOOO BOY okay here we are! i’m all done with another mercy fic!!! that is honestly amazing, startling, thrilling, all that good shit. i am STOKED!!!

i don’t have much to say about it, other than writing kim and john interacting has been so much fun!!! i’m going to have to come up with more reasons for the two of them to hang out. when john and nick talk it’s like fighting words all the time but with kim john can actually just be a tired adult, and i think he might need that sometimes.

so, i took the fic’s title from a new mountain goats song that i really like. it’s very depressing though. even worms turn into butterflies i guess :(

as usual, the chapter is beneath the cut for those of you who don’t want to leave tumblr’s comfortable embrace. i absolutely adore kudos, comments, likes, reblogs and those passing glances on the street as you wonder “is that the famous author of a tiny fandom’s niche survival au????” yeah, i see you out there, looking for me. i’m carmen san diego, bitch!!! good luck with that!!!!

love you guys, have a good day, and thanks for putting up with me!!! <3

John might try to couch it in exasperation and paint it as a tactical retreat, but Kim sees him leaving for what it really is: gut instinct telling him to escape. She doesn't blame him for needing space, of course. From the way Nick watches him go, it's clear that the day's been harder than either of them have let on. She's sure that Nick will tell her the details later, but right now, it doesn't look like he has the energy. That's also fine; John's fragile emotional state is easily put on the back-burner. She has more important things to worry about right now. For one thing, she's got eighty pounds of supplies to handle and a family that's uncomfortable with the responsibility.

"It's still too much for us, isn't it," Nick says mournfully. "We gotta give more away, don't we?"

Kim privately admits to herself that she doesn't want to give any more away. Hell, she's even reluctant to give away what might be kept for bargaining later. The boxes of military rations, the ten pounds of salt, the five pounds of rice — they wouldn't have anything to worry about during winter. They wouldn't even have to leave the house if they didn't want to. But John has left all of that in a neutral fifth pile for them to divvy out equally, and Kim can't allow herself to be more selfish than him. That is absolutely unacceptable.

"We can give away the potato flakes," Kim says, diplomatically moving them to the center pile. "If we still don't feel like it's enough, we can give away more. But right now, we need to conserve the resources we have control over." Sighing hard in an attempt to blow stray hairs from her face, she adds, "Honestly, we should check that everything is still good before we decide to give anything away." After all, everything looks fine at a glance, but Kim has seen first-hand just how insidious mold can be in ill-stored supplies. Just because Jacob seemed to be prepared doesn't mean he couldn't make a mistake, and Kim isn't about to trust any Seed implicitly.

"I guess you're right," Nick replies, picking up one of the mylar bags and examining its contents through the clear side. Kim remembers the brand of powdered stock so clearly that if she closes her eyes, she can see exactly where it was stocked on the store shelves. Nick seems to be thinking the same thing, sounding strangely nostalgic as he asks, "You don't think there's still time to spice up dinner, do you?"

"Maybe if you guys had gotten here an hour ago," Kim says. "Much longer on the fire and everything is going to be mushy paste. And, again, we don't know if it's safe to use."

"Can we have these tomorrow?" Carmina asks, lifting one of the packaged rations up for approval.

"Not unless they won't last through winter," Kim replies. "Now, I know none of us are excited about five-day stew, but we can't let edible food go to waste just because there's something tastier in front of us." That doesn't do much to rally the troops, unfortunately, and Kim is stuck feeling like the bad guy, so she tries again. "Salt doesn't really go bad, though — I'm sure we can use that."

Nick accepts the terms of the compromise, thankfully, because he's an adult when he needs to be. He redirects his leftover energy towards the sealed bags, pointing Carmina towards the neutral pile. "Okay, you remember how to check whether something's gone bad, right?"

It's been a while since they've relied on store-bought goods, but Carmina hasn't forgotten best-by dates or how to spot discoloration. It's easy enough for them to determine the rations are still good; although the packaging boasts a dubious "fifty-year shelf-life," all of the wrappers are fresh and odorless. They'll have to open one up to be sure, but Kim isn't getting Carmina excited for that this close to dinner. The rice and salt are also easy passes, which means Kim hasn't made too lofty a promise to her family just by offering basic seasoning.

They don't risk breaking any seals quite yet, not without clean containers to hold everything, but it's easy to do a visual check even without opening anything up. Jacob had done his job well — other than the triple-wrapped bottles of liquor, the cache is entirely dry and moisture-free, and everything stored inside was meant to last. That tracks with what Kim knows of the oldest brother. He had been a sharp-minded survivalist; cunning, ruthless, and hard to outwit. He must have been a meticulous planner, putting all of this together, but Kim is struggling to understand what he had expected to do with it all. Like John had said — what good would food be to a man who had planned to survive the apocalypse inside a fully stocked, industrial bunker? And if he didn't trust the Project to save him, then why did he put so much effort into building its militia?

Jacob's motivations are a mystery that Kim isn't interested in solving. She's just glad that, for whatever reason, he'd buried these supplies in particular, and that he'd bothered to share the location with John. Thanks to his opaque planning, Kim can scratch some pipe-dream items off her supply list, and that's good enough for her. Honestly, food had been the last thing she'd suspected John could help them with — she still has trouble believing it's all here in front of her.

With Nick and Carmina studiously inspecting the cache supplies, Kim takes some time to pull the food from the fire. It's the third day they've eaten from this particular batch of stew, and the newest ingredients she put in today are almost a week old. The only thing she can say in favor of their leftovers at this point is that there isn't a lot of it left. She can only hope the salt helps, otherwise she's going to cave on the military rations herself.

Kim brings the pot into the kitchen, then decides it's time to check on John. There's a slim chance that he might have decided to disappear into the hangar, or walked as far as the end of the drive, and Kim isn't going to stand around shouting for him like some kind of Little Home on the Prairie character. She gives Nick a thumbs up as she heads for the front door; he doesn't stop her, but the crease in his brow tells her he wants to.

There's a path laid in the dirt between the porch and the truck where John clearly had been pacing, but when Kim comes outside, he's sitting motionless on the porch steps. He doesn't react as Kim comes up next to him, his elbows resting on his knees as he presses his forehead against his palms. She can't tell if he's ignoring her on purpose, or if he's just so deep in thought that he doesn't realize she's there. His turmoil tends to give him tunnel-vision, and he doesn't always notice his surroundings.

Kim doesn't think he's trying to give her the silent treatment, so she gives in first. "Dinner's going to be ready any minute," she tells him. "It's going to be the last tasteless meal for a while, so I hope you're excited."

"Thrilled," he replies, with just enough sarcasm for Kim to trust she isn't interrupting him mid-crisis. She gives him a minute, and sure enough, he eventually drops his hands from his face. Sighing heavily, he addresses the dirt when he speaks. "I take it I'll need a good excuse to get out of eating."

"Maybe if you had eaten breakfast, I'd be more willing to look the other way." Even though she knows John won't take her concern seriously, she can't completely hide it under her exasperation. She tries for his sake, but it's a lost cause. "I don't think you've finished a meal in days."

John closes his eyes briefly. "I haven't been hungry," he says.

Kim wishes he would be more petulant about it. She can handle it when John acts like a child — she's got nine years of raising Carmina under her belt, after all — but John's resignation is a weariness that reflects her own. She doesn't know how to help him with it any more than she knows how to help herself. She can hardly help Nick when he gets like this. She has no idea how to handle John.

Kim cranes her neck as she checks on Nick and Carmina, who are still busy with the supplies. Satisfied that they aren't in any immediate danger, she finally takes a seat next to John on the porch. He still doesn't look at her, his eyes fixed on his hands, but she's hardly surprised. She turns her own gaze to the truck, glinting in the sunset, and tries to follow the tire-tracks backward. She bets the dirt's held their tracks all the way back to the field.

"If it makes you feel better, my appetite has been terrible, too. Sometimes, all I can do is try to keep everything down." She sighs, lamenting mostly to herself, "What I wouldn't give for a Big Mac right now."

That earns her an amused huff from John, which is better than she'd expected. If he's able to tolerate her bad jokes, then at least she can be sure she isn't making things worse.

"At least once we get through our leftovers, we'll be able to start adding those emergency rations into rotation," Kim continues. John probably doesn't care about meal planning, but Kim doesn't need him to be an interested sounding board. "And with the extra seasoning, even our leftovers are going to be better than they were." She knows she's pushing it when she tries to relate, but she can't help commenting, "It was lucky that Jacob squirreled so much food away."

"That isn't what he would call it," John heaves. His fingers twist against his jeans. "He was prepared for anything that might happen. Luck had nothing to do with it."

"It was lucky for us," Kim points out. "And, you know... considering how much effort he put into hiding it, I bet he'd be relieved to know that you were able to find it after all this time."

"It doesn't matter what he'd think. He's dead."

John takes a sharp breath after he spits the comment out and Kim watches the regret bloom in real time, his scowl deepening as he stares at the dirt. Sometimes, she suspects he beats himself up like this because they refuse to do it for him. She wishes he would stop, already. It used to annoy her, but lately, it's only managed to make her feel terribly sad.

"Maybe it doesn't matter to him, but it might make you feel better."

John barks out a noise that hardly resembles a laugh. "Nothing is going to make me feel better ," he snaps, his anger flaring up and dissipating too abruptly for him to keep hold of it. All it leaves behind is resignation. "It doesn't matter. He'll just... My nightmares will latch on to anything. Jacob will never be happy in them." He sighs, burying his hands in his hair, twisting his fingers as though he might pull clumps out by the root. "Nothing I do helps. I just want it to stop ."

Kim wishes she had a solution for him, but she has nothing besides a lame suggestion to get more rest. That clearly hasn't worked for any of them, let alone John, who treats his nightmares like physical intruders instead of figments of his imagination. She doesn't know what they do to haunt him so badly, and she isn't sure she's ready to learn. She's only just now starting to get used to him as a person — she's not ready to unpack all of his damage.

John sighs and rubs his temples. "I knew Jacob didn't believe," he admits. "Not in the religious doctrine, anyway. But I didn't know that he had... planned around it. If I'd known, then maybe..."

John trails off, and Kim hums sympathetically after he fails to pick back up. Most of John's trauma is bespoke to him and him alone, but this is something that any survivor would be able to commiserate with. "Hindsight really does suck," she says. "Trust me, you're not the only one wondering what could've gone differently."

Usually, John is almost impossible to console, but it seems like the day has worn the fight right out of him. He only shakes his head miserably at her attempt to sympathize. "It wouldn't have been any better," he mutters. "It would only have been a different kind of worse."

"Maybe," Kim supposes, although she's not entirely convinced. There were plenty of points between the Project's arrival and the Collapse where a split in leadership would have benefited everybody. She's thought about it before now, remembering rare moments when she'd thought she'd seen something beneath the veneer of otherwise devout believers. She's wondered more than once what might've happened, if only they had convinced the right person to turn their back. God, she's hypothesized about a thousand missed opportunities left in that half-decade. There are a million ways things could have turned out better for even just one more person.

At last, Kim surrenders her side of the conversation — or what's left of it, anyway. "Well, for whatever it's worth, you've done us a big favor, and we're not going to let it go to waste. And a lot of people are going to benefit from your hard work."

John takes a deep, unhappy breath. "Yes," he says. He opens his mouth to soften the word with something else, something to hide the fact that he still depends on blind acceptance when overwhelmed, but he can't seem to come up with anything.

Kim doesn't need an excuse. She puts a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense under her gentle grip, anticipating more than simple reassurance. It offended her at first, how often he seemed to expect them to be violent with him. The idea that he thought either of them were capable of the same awfulness as the cult had pissed her off. But nowadays, she's come to accept that it's simply hardwiring left over from before. She's not sure there's anything to be done about it at this point.

There are no platitudes she can offer him that wouldn't sound insincere, so she relies on facts. "When you're ready, come inside and try to eat something. You look like you wore yourself out."

John's tension slowly ebbs. "I... may have overdone it," he admits somewhat reluctantly, which tells Kim that he definitely overdid it. He scrubs his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I needed to know I was right. I... needed him to know I hadn't forgotten."

So much for Jacob being too dead to care about. Despite everything, Kim can't help but sympathize. She feels his remorse in her own way whenever she thinks about her parents, and she knows that everybody carries something like that with them these days. She might not be haunted by her parents the way John is, but she thinks she can understand his sorrow. It might be the only thing about him she really gets.

"That's okay," she tells him, because it is, and somebody should tell him as much. "But you can't let it get in the way of taking care of yourself."

He nods, but Kim knows he doesn't believe her. He treats every attempt to reassure him as empty platitudes — not that she can blame him, really. But sometimes, like right now, she wonders if he would be less inclined to beat himself up so much if they'd just punished him the way he'd wanted from the start. It's just her exasperation talking, frustrated by his continued misery. John needs time, just like the rest of them, and beating him up ten months ago would only have made things worse.

A loud thud interrupts them, followed immediately by Carmina shouting, " Ow !" Nick starts to laugh, which keeps Kim from getting particularly worried about Carmina's safety, but she still gets up to investigate. John doesn't follow, although she catches him turning his head to watch her as she heads inside.

Nick, still seated at the table, laughs at their daughter as she lies sprawled back on the ground, her feet still guiltily stuck in the barrel.

"Told you, you're too big! No way you'd fit."

"I had to try ," Carmina grumbles as she kicks her way out of the barrel.

" Why ?" Kim laughs.

"I dunno, I just had to!"

"Too bad I don't have a blow-torch," Nick laments. "We could've put some eye-holes in it for you, like a helmet. Maybe then you'd be able to ride around in the truck-bed without your mom getting all worked up."

Carmina gasps. " Really ?"

Kim is quick to smother that particular idea. " No ," she cuts in, trying not to laugh at the mental image that her husband's conjured up. She tries to guilt Nick with an exasperated glance, but the bastard doesn't look even remotely repentant about suggesting armor to their child. "There has to be a better use for it than that. Anyway, armored or not, I don't want you to get thrown out of the back of a moving vehicle! I don't know why that's so unreasonable."

Carmina opens her mouth to argue the point, but she's abruptly distracted as she glances into the barrel. Rearranging her legs to sit on her knees, she pulls the barrel towards her. Kim would write it off if it weren't for Carmina's obvious confusion as she peers inside.

"There's more stuff in here," she reveals, tipping the barrel upright. She's uncharacteristically uneasy as she mentions, "Um, I think it's cult stuff..."

Kim is the first one to investigate, peering down into what she'd thought was an empty cache. She finds a circular metal disk wedged catty-corner into the barrel, revealing a hidden compartment. Reaching past the false bottom, Kim finds some black fabric and a box. She figures out the tee-shirts from the tags inside the collars of the factory-starched fabric, but hesitates to investigate the rest. The other packages stored away had been factory-sealed and clearly labeled cardboard boxes; there was no hiding what was in those. This, on the other hand, is a wooden cigar box with no seals, the Eden's Gate cross etched elaborately into the lid.

"Uh, John?" Nick calls as Kim sets the box down on top of the shirts. She wonders if she should open it, or if it might be some kind of trap. Nick looks deeply distrusting as he stares at the emblem and repeats louder, "John?"

John is more confused than any of them when he enters the scene. He scowls as soon as he sees the box sitting on the table, which would be hard to miss even without Nick gesturing widely towards it. "Where did you find that?" he asks, looking from Nick to Carmina as if they might have different stories to give him.

"Where do you think, Mars?" Nick exclaims, exasperated. "You wanna tell me what's inside?"

"I don't know ," John grits out, "I haven't looked ."

But it's clear from his expression that he has an idea of what they're dealing with. He crosses the room and hovers momentarily in front of the box, flipping the lid open before Kim can decide if that's a good idea. It could be a bomb. It could have a tripwire. She doesn't want her home ruined by Bliss all over again!

Of course, nothing happens. Kim supposes that if it had been a trap, Carmina would have set it off by climbing on top of it. The reality is much less ominous than she could have expected. She hovers near John as he pulls a clean moleskin journal out, watching him flip through the blank pages before dismissing it. He's slower to write off the folded mass of paper that he takes out next, although he doesn't examine it right away. Kim doesn't need him to unfold it to see the topography lines and highway markers printed on it.

"An empty journal, a map, and..."

John scowls at the twenty or so bullets that rattle around at the bottom of the cigar box. They can't be any different from the rest of the ammunition, but for some reason, the sight of them triggers a sense of dread in Kim. After all, what kind of ammunition would Jacob have thought needed to be secreted away? It can't be good. It can't possibly be safe .

"Ah," John says. Kim can't say for sure, but he seems almost disappointed.

"What are they?" Nick asks.

"Bullets we infused with Bliss." John tilts the box, examining the ammunition as best he can without touching it. Kim can't help but want to snatch Carmina away, but they're past the point of hiding these things from her. She has a right to understand just how dangerous the cult was. But there's also a lingering fear that somehow, Carmina might be affected by that god-awful drug, even if it's from ten-year-old bullets.

"You don't have to worry," John says. He doesn't need to look up for Kim to know he's talking to her. "The drug would be inert by now."

"What should we do with them, then?" Nick asks.

"Destroy them," John replies honestly. "If not that, then... store them away. We don't need them, but..."

"But it would be stupid to throw away good ammunition," Kim finishes as John trails off.

"Exactly."

None of them make a move to take either action. Kim supposes that the bullets aren't hurting anyone right now, just sitting there, and it seems like Carmina is more interested in the map than the ammunition. She's trying and failing to peek at the folded pages without undoing the whole mess. They didn't have a map in the bunker, which means that this will be Carmina's first chance to see her home spread out as a whole.

"Here, let me," Kim tells her daughter. Nick takes her cue, clearing a space on the table for her as she picks up the map. All eyes are on the accordion folds as they unravel, revealing more and more of the county. Black stars dot locations Kim remembers, like Lorna's and Rae Rae's, and circled points of nothing are marked in the middle of empty fields and mountain road turnoffs. The key is neatly printed in the upper left corner; beneath it is a uniform list of numbers, most likely coordinates, written briskly in red ink.

Even without the key, Kim thinks she understands the various marks around the map. Spread out in front of them, she can see double circles around power boxes, and she spots a few other locations with the same notation. Stars are placed next to several prominent people's homes, including their own. There are other things, too — little ink drawings of wolves, bears and deer in spots across the map. A few lakes have the names of fish written over them in the same blocky letters as the food packaging; the river bend nearest to their home has the word BASS written neatly along the bend.

Standing next to Kim, staring down at the map, John finally says, "This doesn't make any sense."

Nick opens his mouth to respond, probably with something sarcastic, but he thinks better of it and goes a different route. "Why would he hide this stuff?" he asks. "I mean, I get the bullets, I guess... but hiding the map seems weird."

John scowls at the box in his hands, closing the lid vengefully. "This is what the cache should have been," he says. "It should have more of this — more weapons, more maps, more intel . What about all of the blueprints we'd drawn up for housing? Instructions on how to reconnect the power grid, or the deeds to prove we owned the land — that would help, no matter what you believed! We were prepared for an apocalypse, but — where is it all? Sugar and rice and cigarettes aren't helping anybody!"

Kim can't blame John for getting upset, although she wishes he wouldn't shout around Carmina. Knowing that Jacob had planned for the possibility of the Project not being around is one thing, but it must be particularly rough to see obvious signs of a long-forgotten plan. Especially one that John hadn't been told anything about, with only a few disjointed clues left for him to piece back together.

To her surprise, it's Nick who comes to John's rescue, standing to draw John's attention before he completely spirals. "Come on, that's not true. You know we need food more than anything else." He gestures towards the open map. "Besides, there are plenty of other spots we can check. And now we know what we're looking for, right?"

John sighs heavily. "Yes," he agrees.

"Okay," Nick continues, "And now we've got rations and a tent to take with us, so we don't go through another long day like today. Right?"

John rolls his eyes. It's no secret that he hates it when they treat him like a child, but there's not enough outrage left in him to get angry about it. Instead, he drops his eyes to the ground and agrees with a despondent, "Yes."

"So, alright, maybe we aren't going to learn how to reconnect the power grid, or how to build a solar water purifier, or whatever. But at least we know we're not going to struggle through winter. Neither is Grace, or the gang, or the town."

"I know," John sighs. "I know." He drops the box onto the table, grimacing at the sound it makes. "The map alone is worth all of today's effort." He doesn't look convinced, but Kim can appreciate his almost-apology for what it is.

Carmina, who has been examining the map to avoid John's outburst, finally sees an opening to speak up. "Um... Where is our house?" she asks.

Nick squints over the map, trying to pinpoint the spot from his upside-down vantage point. Neither he nor Kim are quick enough to answer, though, as John reaches out and taps his finger against one of the black stars in the lower-left corner. He doesn't even have to look — he clearly memorized their location a long time ago.

"Here," he says.

"Oh, good," Nick sighs, "We got a star."

"It meant you had something useful that you weren't willing to give up." John's finger drags across the paper to the label on the river. "But I don't understand why he marked fishing spots. And hunting locations. And these..." He taps the red numbers. Kim spots a few red dots on the map, hopefully corresponding to the coordinates, but they seem to be in random locations. Whatever logic the Project was using, Kim can't make it out.

"I don't know what any of these are," John says. His voice lacks the anger from moments ago, replaced by a growing fascination with the mysterious notations. "They're all up in the mountains, so I think... Well, except...."

He moves around Carmina, who watches him with wide eyes as he seems to forget she's standing right next to him. John's given her more attention in the last hour than he has this entire year, but it figures that his indifference to her is what's sticking out.

"This one," he says, tapping a red dot near the old Eden's Gate compound. "This might be the furthest south... No, wait. This one." He moves his attention again, indicating another red spot closer to town.

"Are they more barrels?" Carmina asks.

John is momentarily startled to find Carmina right beside him, but he doesn't immediately leap away to put some distance back. Mostly because doing so would send him right into Kim's personal space. "It could be," he admits, only letting Carmina's input rattle him for a second before he turns his attention back to the map. "They must have been late additions. But... I didn't hear anything about these, and I don't remember seeing them on other maps. If they were for the Project, I would have found out about them eventually."

"Wouldn't they have told you upfront?" Nick asks, surprised when John chuckles in response.

"There were plenty of things I had to learn second-hand. There are probably more secrets I never learned at all. But — this cache was buried weeks before the Reaping. We kept our maps updated almost daily, but I don't remember either of these being marked. And there's one at the compound... I would remember emergency supplies being stored at the church."

Carmina stands on the opposite side of John from Kim, watching his hand move as he talks. Seeing the two of them side-by-side should probably upset Kim. She should be worried about her daughter putting too much trust in John — even if he wants to do the right thing now, he doesn't always understand what the right thing might be, and Carmina is at an impressionable age. If John says or does something wrong, he could shift Carmina's entire worldview.

In reality, though, Kim doesn't particularly mind. John is clearly not comfortable around Carmina, even though her lukewarm interest in him is hardly a threat, and he's highly cautious when he talks to her. Whether it's because Carmina is Nick's kid, or because he's bad with kids in general, Kim doesn't know. All she knows is that John is always careful with his words when Carmina is around.

"Stars are people's homes, right?" Carmina asks. "What about crosses?"

John frowns, tearing his eyes away from the mystery coordinates long enough to look where Carmina is pointing. "Shrines," he tells her. He points out a few more symbols, although it's clear he's doing it to keep her from asking him more questions. "Triangles are silos. Circles are established caches. Unfilled squares are locations we wanted. Filled squares are places we owned."

Carmina frowns at the map. "There are a lot of those."

Nick clears his throat loudly, and John immediately opens his mouth to apologize. Nick doesn't seem to need it, though, scratching at his chin as he tells Carmina, "The cult stole a lot of property right from underneath the real owners. They didn't actually own any of it. They just lied, and pretended."

John frowns, but he makes no effort to defend the cult one way or another. "And now the Project holds none of it," he says, gesturing at the map. "You could take it all back. Nobody will be there to stop you."

"Yeah, assuming any of it is still useful."

"We're one-for-one so far," Kim points out. Nick purses his lips at her taking John's side, but he's the one who suggested armoring up Carmina earlier — he can deal with a little payback. "Besides, I think we could all use a little direction right now. Something to work towards beyond surviving day-to-day."

"There could still be useful intelligence stored away," John says. "Jacob had plans for a multitude of projects we could make use of. The only problem I can see is that Joseph might have a similar map. We may have to compete with him for resources."

"From what I've heard, they've been keeping to themselves. Something about Mennonites with bows and arrows, I don't know." Nick waves a hand dismissively over the map. "If we can use cult resources against Joseph, then I'm all for it."

"That makes two of us," John agrees.

Kim's eyes rove across the map, following the river eastward. The cattle ranch is marked by a star and a cross, but there isn't much there to see along the southern border; for whatever reason, the cult focused most of their resources on the northern half of the valley. It isn't until the now-jungles of the Henbane's territory that more outposts pop up, although she can't imagine any of them are used now. According to what's left of the rumor mill, the cult has mostly remained on what used to be Dutch's island. So far, they haven't seemed interested in making contact with outsiders, much less trying to make amends — if John and Nick do go out and encounter some cultists, she can't know how it will turn out. They seem to want to keep to themselves — but how long can that possibly last?

It's a worry that she'll have to deal with later. She's already anxious enough for the present; she doesn't need to add future paranoia to the mix. For now, she can focus on appreciating the stark benefits laid out on the table in front of her. Even if Joseph has his own map, he doesn't have gasoline, or working vehicles, or guns . He doesn't have radio communication across the entire county, whereas monopolizing the resources will only take Kim a few quick calls. Anything the cult tries to pull off will have to be done much more slowly, and with Joseph being in control of it all. It's a strange way for the tables to turn, but Kim can't say she doesn't like the satisfaction it brings, knowing that they're at least one step ahead of the Project. It only took, what, nine years?

"Well, damn, John," Nick says at last, "Way to set the bar high for next time."

"Don't expect more miracles," John replies, lifting one hand neutrally. But there's something in his expression, a sort of awkward bashfulness, that reminds Kim of Nick's own humble pride. Kim's surprised to find that humility is a good fit for John. It's better than the cold arrogance he used to display, that's for sure. Who knows — maybe in a few years, it won't take dragging him through one long, emotionally-draining day to get him to open up. If they're lucky, it won't take that long, but knowing John, he'll fight it every step of the way.

That's okay, though. Kim's got more than enough patience to wait him out.

#fc5 #fcnd #john seed #kim rye #far cry new dawn #honestly i need to stop tagging this fc5 #it's not any more #its 100% new dawn baby #my fic #mercyverse

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