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What's Mine is Yours



 
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Gideon Abernathy

A deep breath in, and a slower breath out.

His knuckles are white against the steering wheel, and his eyes don’t leave the road. The morning had been spent arguing about whether or not Quinn would go to her scheduled doctor’s appointment. She knows how he feels about the topic, yet she still insists that, even though the baby is doing fine, they pay a large sum of money for someone to tell them what they already know. Dutifully, he had given in and driven her to the office, where she was stuck too many times - “oh, honey, you have little spider veins, they’re hiding from me!” - and they were interrogated about their plans for the birth.

“We’re having a home birth.”

“We strongly recommend against that.”

“Okay.”

And that was that. Those six words were Gideon’s contribution, and even then, he felt he said too much. It hadn’t been long after that he was pulling her from the room and leading her out the door, jaw locked and eyes flashing.

He hasn’t said anything since, and though he forcefully tries to relax, he can’t. So, with a sudden turn of the wheel and a screeching of tires on concrete, they are settled in a nearly abandoned parking lot with him fuming.

Fingers brush through his mess of hair and down the length of his face before Gideon finally locks eyes with his wife. His anger and frustration isn’t directed at her, but she still suffers the effects of it. He’s moody and distant and incredibly short. And only one thing calms him down.

With a deep sigh, he leans back into the seat and fidgets. His mind frantically and desperately toys with the idea they had already discussed, but is it worth it? More importantly, is she ready?

“Quinn,” he starts off, words getting caught up in his overthinking. Again, his blackened gaze falls to her, and he shakes his head. In her state, it could prove too dangerous. That, and in his state, he’s afraid he’ll take too many uncalculated risks. He has, after all, never had a ‘partner,’ of sorts.

But he’s so fixated on the need that he’s not sure he can push it into the back of his mind again. Once it’s unleashed, it can’t be recaged.

“I need to kill someone.” He forces the words out blandly, as if it’s as simple as going to the store. “Do you…” Trailing off, he motions very vaguely, hoping she’d fill in the blanks.
August 21, 2018 11:09 am

Quinn Abernathy

It was the fourth time Quinn had flinched before the nurse made the situation verbally clear, as if anyone in the room needed to know why she was being repeatedly stabbed with a needle. The tender flesh stings, but she stiffens her upper lip and powers through until she literally cannot stand it. "Please just use my hand. Please," the blond practically begs, her gaze set upon Gideon as she finds herself incapable of watching the carnage any longer.

After some slight work, she manages to get the nurse to agree. All have survived the first portion of today's visit, and it is with an exposed belly and a tiny humanoid on a screen that Quinn just cannot seem to take her eyes off of, that the real discussion begins.

Okay.

"We appreciate your concern, but... we've hired a midwife, and we have a doctor at home. We're covered." Quinn smiles, much more at peace than her husband. She has to tear her sights from their creation to find him, and she reaches out for his hand. "He's so perfect," she would beam at her husband.

But that doesn't end the debate, and Quinn finds herself finishing it in the only way she knows how. She gets them out, shutting down the communication completely. It is Gideon who would lead the way out of the office and the building, charging forward until they are in the car and a safe distance away.

She can tell he is upset. Quinn also understands it is her fault. This is why she is almost grateful when he veers into the parking lot suddenly, though her arm collides with the passenger door. Once parked, she looks at him, wide-eyed and rubbing her wound as if that might take the pain away. She'll be fine. She's been through far worse.

The debate he seems to be having with himself is unreal, and when he says her name, she can see his struggle. He shakes his head, and her brows pull together. "Gideon?"

'I need to kill someone. Do you...'

The hand upon her arm stills and she stares at him for just a few moments of thought. Quinn doesn't truly want this, but she understands the need. What if she can't even escape the cult once he's gone? What if she is forced to stay? What if this is her life, for the rest of her life? How would she survive? How would she keep Finn alive? But most immediately important, how could she hope to help her husband avoid these things if she cannot stomach or fathom them?

"Okay," she swallows, though her nerves show clearly. Quinn nods. "Okay."
August 21, 2018 05:38 pm

Gideon Abernathy

The dark man manages to hold her gaze for a moment, but it’s brief. Before long, he turns away and breathes a steadying sigh. The nerves come off her in waves as she considers all the options - at least, that’s what he assumes she’s doing.

Okay... Okay.

There’s another pregnant pause between them, during which Gideon just stares for a while. Despite the tension, he can feel her resolution; it’s almost more palpable than everything else she’s putting off. But would it be enough, when the time came?

Gideon has to force down his own nerves at the prospect.

Putting the car into gear again, he drives slowly from the parking lot, settling into that very particular mode he must be in. Any sense of love is quelled, pushed deep within. This is a matter of survival, and nothing could get in the way of doing what he needs to do to protect them. There is too much at stake.

When he finally finds what he’s after, he stops the car and leans back again. When he speaks, his tone is different; lower, much more precise. “Just breathe. And follow my lead.” His instructions are simple but precise, and it’s imperative she understands their importance.

“Wait here for a second.”

Exiting the vehicle, he’s deep in an alleyway, almost entirely uninhabited, save for a few strung out homeless people. Gideon gets into the trunk of the car, glancing around discreetly before pulling a syringe filled with a questionable liquid from a bag shoved near the bottom. Normally, the mess of the trunk would bother him; in truth, it does. But this is a necessary mess, to hide something much more sinister.

He pushes the air from the syringe and shuts the trunk, eyes roving over the occupants of the alley before falling on their victim. With a slight hint of a smirk, he opens Quinn’s car door and waves her out.

With a lithe motion, he is kneeling down before one man, set apart from the rest of the druggies, and waits until the filthy being drags his gaze up to Gideon’s blackened hues. Curiously, he could swear he sees a flash of fear, but when he presents the syringe - “It’s a new strain of drug, would you like to test it?” - the man is eager enough.

At this, Gideon looks up to Quinn, waving her closer. A finger touches a spot on his neck as he instructs her. “Normally, this would be a good place. Take them by surprise, and don’t hesitate. There aren’t many you’ll be able to best. When people are presented with fight or flight, with no chance at flight, they become something like a caged animal, very aggressive and dangerous.” Even as he’s explaining this, he’s pushing the needle into the vein of the man’s heavily tracked arm, where it takes seconds to take effect.

“Open the back door,” he follows up as he grabs their victim under the armpits and drags him toward the car.
August 23, 2018 08:39 am

Quinn Abernathy

The moment he started to drive, Quinn's breathing slowed. She focused on it, taking in long, deep breaths and releasing them in just the same fashion. It is only when they stop that she ceases altogether.

Just breathe. And follow my lead.

She remains, as instructed, and is beginning to panic as she listens to him work his way through the trunk. Never had she ever imagined what might be back there. Never had she realized, when she drove alone, that she had his tools with her. What if she had been pulled over? What if something happened? What if. What if.

When he opens the car door, she's staring forward and still as ever. Finally, a breath is taken, and chocolate hues glance in his direction before she carefully climbs out of the car. Slow steps follow him, though she doesn't kneel. This is disturbing and fascinating, all at the same time. To see her husband like this, is something she'd never wanted and yet always wondered about.

Blissful ignorance, she would learn, is everything.

She barely follows, and as he speaks and instructs her on the art of drugging someone, she feels like she is listening to a stranger. This isn't her husband. This man, this human being telling her where to push a needle into a person and warning her of their capacity to best her... is not her Gideon.

Not even close.

Open the back door.

Quinn can only watch was he lifts the man up, her hands instinctively moving to her ever-growing belly to smooth over it until her arms have formed some sort of barrier between it and the world. Her heart races, the noise of it thrumming in her ears and causing her head to pound with the sheer force of it. She swears, it might just crack open, and all those terrified thoughts would spill out for him to see.

Gently, she shakes her head, her hands rising so that she can press the heels of her palms against her temples. She just wants to keep it all it, she has to hold it together. Gideon spoke of fight or flight, and right now, Quinn’s mind is trying to escape reality as the world spins and she is stuck somewhere between now and then. She can hear her father calling her name, smell the Christmas cookies, listen to him read her a bedtime story or ask about her day. She can practically see his smile, and those kind, brown eyes.

He would be so disappointed in her. There is no way he would be proud of her. Not like this. He wanted something so different.

Gideon is going to be disappointed.

“Stop,” she breathes out the word.

Reality wins. Those chocolate hues search for Gideon, tears threatening to fall as shame and guilt overcomes her, and she prepares to plead.

“Please,” she whispers.
August 26, 2018 10:11 pm

Gideon Abernathy

Gideon doesn’t have to look at Quinn to know what’s going on. He’d expected it, even if it is mildly disappointing. Knowing his instruction would go unfollowed, he balances the man in one arm while he opens the back door himself. The body is dumped, unceremoniously, and he slams the door shut. There’s no discernible read on him; he’s calculated and meticulous in this form, as it’s what’s kept him alive this long.

Stop... Please.

“No.” Cold, callous, emphatic. This is exactly what they needed to avoid. In this line of work, there is no room for second-guessing and hesitation. That’s where mistakes were made.

And he thought he’d been clear about that.

Gideon regards his wife with a stony glare, eyes a particularly bottomless abyss. Every move they make is time sensitive, and they’re already behind. The drug has been in the man’s system for minutes now, and where they should be well on their way to their next destination, they remain in the dark alley, becoming more and more conspicuous.

“Make a decision. Now.” Voice level, no inflection, it’s hard to really decipher his mood. The Gideon that Quinn is familiar with lacks the emotional capacity to really sympathize with people, but he can at least recognize when his wife needs time and comfort. This version of him, however, doesn’t have the time or patience. “Either get in the car, or go back to the market. There is no stopping.”

With that, he turns on his heel and reclaims the driver’s seat. He won’t drive home the danger she’s put him in, not to mention herself and their child, should she choose to continue on. There’s no time to argue; she simply needs to take charge and make a move.
September 02, 2018 12:16 pm

Quinn Abernathy

There are mere seconds to make a decision. Get in the car, or go back to the market. Now. No stopping. Mere seconds, to make a split decision that would define her for the rest of her life, however long it may be. And yet, there are so many little things swarming her mind.

The man getting in the car is a stranger. Gideon is not here. This person is a shell, a mere husk of her husband, and yet... he is more her husband than she's ever known. This is the side of him he never wanted her to see, and she asked for it.

Her brow knits together, and Quinn would leave Gideon no question as she turns away from the car. She cannot do this. Now more than ever she recognizes just how lost she is, and she is forced to reckon with the fact that this may just be who she really is.

She doesn't even hear the car drive away.

The walk to the market is long, Quinn's feet swollen by the time she reaches it. And with each pained step, she had the time to truly consider her life. What is it that makes her seek nurture from those whose nature it is to destroy? Even knowing this, she fights the question in her own mind. Gideon is the great love of her life, and she is nothing more than the kryptonite that would ultimately destroy him.

There is no one to call. Bound so tightly, she realizes quickly that she has no friends on the outside. Not anymore. Those that she did once have, she cannot reach for. The comfort that is Solomon is gone, and those that are still living are strictly prohibited, if only to save her husband. She is alone.

Ryan would drive her home in a deafening silence, Quinn staring straight ahead as she uses what little energy she has to keep herself together. A set of dull chocolate eyes would barely glance in his direction before she forces herself from the vehicle, objecting to any help and instead slowly making her way to the front door of the very house Gideon had built for them.

Once inside, she glances around, taking in the strange atmosphere as it all but welcomes her. One by one, Quinn begins to unravel the facts in her mind.

She loves her husband.
They live in a cult.
They run a cult.
They are expecting a son.
Sam.
Her husband is a serial killer.
She loves her husband.
She loves her husband.
She is alone.

When Gideon would find her, she would be sat on the edge of their bed, staring at her phone's dark screen. There wouldn't be any tears, nor a single word. Instead, a set of tired eyes would rove over him before she bows her head.

God, she loves him.
September 10, 2018 10:33 pm
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