Chapter Text
The days had crawled by since he'd heard the news. Explosions had gone off like every other day, gunshots echoing throughout the regions of Hope County. It was God's Will that they protect and fight for the Project of Eden's Gate. The Lamb had shown up, broken the first seal. Had wreaked havoc on the Project's every plan. Blowing up John's fuel silos, burning Faith's shrines to the ground, and even breaking apart Jacob's wolf beacons. Trucks had been looted, choppers brought down. Yet Joseph couldn't help but be intrigued by the Deputy that was fighting against him and his Flock. Most of Joseph's children knew he wanted the Deputy taken alive so she could join their family, but he'd already had to punish a few followers who had tried to eliminate her.
Now here he was, standing at the front of his church where he gave his sermons, with tears streaking down his face. His hands were curled around the spine of the book he recorded his teachings into, the knuckles white as the skin stretched against the bone. His eyes closed as the familiar crackle of the radio filled his ears.
"Joseph, some of the Flock members in the Valley are agitated, but none of my men can get close enough to find the source." John's voice had filled the comfortable silence, echoing around a side room in Joseph's church. Joseph was sitting at a desk with a pen in hand and an empty page of a book in front of him. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Always agitated, they never trust that things will work out the way God planned. Joseph pressed the button on his radio and spoke into it calmly.
"Is it the Deputy causing trouble again?" He folded his book closed and set his pen down already knowing the answer. Yes. All three of Joseph's heralds had encountered the Deputy, or as some of her friends called her, Rook. Each one knew how chaotic she could be, how wild her temperament was. Joseph had once heard from a follower that she'd broken a man's arm just to make him a sling once she got the information she'd needed.
"N-no Joseph...it's about the Deputy. They're celebrating, Joseph." John's voice was tense with emotion his older brother couldn't identify. Normally it was fear, but what did John have to fear over the current situation. "I have men dispersing the crowd...the Deputy is dead, brother."
Joseph had seen her himself. He'd left the confines of his compound, rushing to his brother's side to see for himself. The One who was either going to cause destruction or help lead the Flock to Eden couldn't be dead. The Voice hadn't told him that Rook would be taken from him, from his family. John had been covered in blood once Joseph had arrived at the scene, only a gathering of ten or so of his followers still lingering. John's Chosen stood between the brothers and their followers like security guards, giving them space to realize what had happened.
The Deputy, always blazing with the Holy Fire of life, was laid down in the bed of a truck. If he convinced himself that the blood pooling on her chest wasn't hers, or the bullet holes in her red flannel were just a trick, Rook looked as though she was sleeping.
"And I thought you were the guy who could compartmentalize." A voice snapped him from his thoughts, and Joseph looked down the aisle to see the Deputy standing by the doors of the church. The same doors she'd walked through with the U.S. Marshal and a warrant for his arrest. That fateful day she'd finally been brought to the Project.
Her arms were folded across her chest, the red color of her signature flannel popping against the black tank top she had underneath. Like she'd worn her police uniform, only the last few buttons were done, leaving the top half of her flannel open. There were no tears in the fabric across her chest, no dark coloration from the fabric soaking up her blood. Her skin was peachy and...alive.
Joseph was at a loss for words as Rook strolled down the aisle, her hands running across the pews as she hummed a familiar tune. We'll walk arm in arm, down our promised path. He no longer felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks, no longer felt the dull ache in his chest as he stared at the Deputy. A soft light radiated around her, and Joseph couldn't help but smile. She had vehemently denied the existence of God, of any higher power even. Rook had firmly stated that God was dead, and if he wasn't, he wasn't listening to anyone. Then she'd spat out a mixture of blood and saliva at Joseph's feet.
"You always looked better with a smile on your face, Father." Her voice bounced around the empty church, and Joseph closed his eyes, wanting to burn the sound into his brain for all eternity.
"And you always manage to put one there, my child," He spoke softly as she came to a stop in a few feet away from him, her hands resting on the end of a wooden pew. "You also always manage to take it away. A puzzle of a thing you are." His mind's voice corrected him to say "were". What a puzzle of a thing you were.
"You're helping your people, just as I am helping mine." The Deputy took a few steps forward, then held her hands out to Joseph, just as he had the day she'd locked a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. They moved downward, taking the book from his hands before setting it down on the pew behind her. Then she turned back around, her slender fingers wrapping around his hands. Her skin was warm against his, her touch as soft as he'd remembered it. Sure, she'd been wearing gloves, but Deputy had always been gentle.
"Why couldn't you have listened to me, little lamb? You were never supposed to get hurt. I told you that sometimes the best thing-" Joseph had started to ask, a desperate note in his voice, but Rook cut him off with a sad look in her eyes as she brought his hands closer to her chest, closing the space between them. "-Is to walk away."
She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Joseph's glistening eyes. Rook let go and reached up, Joseph unable to help but slightly flinch as she took the yellow-tinted aviators from his face. She hooked one of the arms in her shirt so they hung off the fabric, folded in place. "I couldn't let you hurt these people. I couldn't let these people hurt your people. You never deserved to be ostracized and judged like you were, but you tortured people. Made them Atone and join your Flock when they didn't want to. " Rook sighed softly, then brought one of her hands up to Joseph's cheek. His skin burned wherever her fingertips landed, but he couldn't help but lean into her touch.
The two of them walked backward until the back of her knees hit the wooden bench of the pew, and the Deputy sat down with her legs crossed, then motioned for Joseph to join her. The hollow feeling in his chest had returned as he laid his head in her lap, and her fingers worked the tie out of his hair, letting it fall onto her jeans. It tickled her skin where the fabric had been ripped and distressed, and Joseph reveled in the small giggle that escaped her lips.
"Oh Lord, the great Collapse...won't be our end." Rook's singing brought more tears to Joseph's eyes as her hands ran through his hair, sending tingling sensations down his spine. He closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of the Deputy's fingers in his hair as she sang. "When the world falls into the flames, we will rise again..."
John had come to check up on Joseph, as he'd been locked in the church for the better half of the last few days. When he cracked the door open, he could see Joseph's shoulder poking over the edge of the first row of the pews. He was laying down, humming "We Will Rise Again", a song written by one of their followers. His aviators were on the floor where he gave his sermons, his book right next to them as well. John took a step inside, freezing as he heard the soft sound of his brother whispering, "Oh little lamb, why couldn't you have listened? You were never supposed to get hurt." Over and over again.