ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: April 2023
NOTES: A gift for Tumblr user miasmat as part of detectiveloki / carlosoliveiraa 's Far Cry 5 Anniversary Gift Exchange event!
Smoke plumes coated the vast Montana landscape, though it was no different from how things had been. Still, day in and day out, cultists clashed with local resistance groups, just as they had prior to the Deputy's arrival. Nothing had changed in those moments where crimson coated tarmac. Not a single thing, even as the weight on Noah's shoulders fell to the earth at his feet.
And yet, everything had changed. For him. For the Seeds. For Joseph.
Shimmering dew drops splashed against the rich, country soil, accompanying distant footfalls in matting the earth. The air was chilled. Still. Hushed, as if the Deputy were the only one to walk the path at that moment. Perhaps, in a way, he was. The only one to go willingly to the Father, even after all he had done. To see him surrounded by chaos and bloodshed, and still find himself captivated by the beauty of those eyes. To find himself lost in the Father's intense gaze.
No. It was a simple task; nothing more.
That’s what he'd told himself when returning to the wreckage. What he'd affirmed as gloved hands reached down to retrieve the twisted aviators. He'd held them up to the sun, watching as the dew dripped from amber tinted lenses. It was what he repeated to himself as he'd walked up the church's steps, doing well to avoid the scrutinizing gaze of the working cultists just in the distance. They'd done well to avoid causing a scene, lest they'd unknowingly unleash a secondary ambush. Stirred the hornet's nest just yonder, past the barbed wire fencing. Awoken the beasts hidden in the wild brush. No, they'd do well to wait it out. Prepare while they had the chance. To share subtle nods and check their persons. Always armed. Just as God intended.
The doors opened with a humble creak, a sign of wear on the wrought iron hinges. Silence. An empty alley of cracked wooden flooring stood between him and the central stage, dusted pews lining each side of the church's expansive interior. To the side, there was a small hallway. And within the hallway, which almost seemed to shrink around the deputy as he'd walked along the row of doors, lay the office. A quaint little door with a window illuminated by the interior light. Inside sat the very man he was searching for, head tilted down as he focusedly flipped through the stack of papers in his hand. Preparations for their next sermon. Statements addressing the latest incident, and how it was God's will that had pulled him from the wreckage.
Divine intervention. Intervention that only he'd known to be walking in the form of the cult's very target.
Seeming to sense a set of eyes upon him, Joseph lifted his head to find Noah standing there beyond the glass. The Father studied the deputy's expression before motioning for him to enter, and simply returned to organizing the papers.
"I-" Noah's voice caught in his throat, dissipated in the swirling thoughts that'd begun to circle his head. It wavered before he'd steadied them with a soft cough. "Your glasses."
Joseph glanced toward the deputy's hand as he extended it, revealing the aviators. They were worse for wear, but not beyond repair. It wouldn't be the first time the Father found himself tinkering over them. He set the handwritten notes to the side, resting them atop his desk as he'd stood to approach. To accept the offering. Curiosity swirled in tired blues, his touch lingering on the deputy's hand as he examined him. Then, he simply took the glasses and set them to join his notes.
"Something else is on your mind." The Father's voice was steady. Almost cautious in its guidance. It brought pause to the deputy as he lingered in his position just by the door.
Something else? Several things more like it. The way he'd instinctively pulled the trigger on a member of the Resistance. The silent understanding between himself and Joseph in those last moments. The decision to walk away from it all. To free himself from the confines of his duties. Conflict wrote itself on the other's face, jaw clenching as he’d bit back and swallowed the nausea it'd all stirred.
"I will not judge you for what you say, or whatever you choose to do. I have no reason to, given you've come on your own volition. If you'd like to talk, there is time. If not, then know my men will not attack you as you leave."
Reassurance. A kindness that tethered itself to Noah's very core. Wrapped so gingerly around his limbs and compelled him to take the spare seat just beside the few worn shelves. Compelled him to suck in a breath through his teeth and finally allow the words to leave his mouth.
"I'd like to stay. Here. I'd like to stay here. I can't go back there after..."
After I killed an innocent man. After I killed someone who put their trust in me. After I let him, and others, die to save you.
"I understand." Joseph took his own breath, pondering over how he could make such an arrangement work without risking those within his flock.
Of course, he would guarantee the freedom to leave at any moment. Tell his men that the Deputy would be in their protection for the time being. But how would he ensure others did not come looking for him? He couldn't, frankly. The best he could do with the resources on hand were to simply maintain business as usual. Keep the church grounds protected by any means necessary. Prepare somewhere that the Deputy could remain out of sight, but still have access to the things he'd needed. It wasn't sound, but it would do. But there was one more thing...
"And Noah?" A pause to await the deputy's recognition. "… Thank you. For doing what needed to be done."