Who: Willa Davidson and Bode Coldiron Where: Dog Park What: Discussing the Dog Park and the past, aka family, war, sex, lies (but no videotape) When: September 10, 2018
The flock of chickens had mysteriously multiplied, and while she had yet to meet the second source of good poultry luck, Willa had only been able to recruit one fellow farmer to help with the chores of keeping livestock alive in the middle of a wasteland. Mush, it turned out, was not opposed to his chances of getting another hen to fry up in a few months. The lack of helping hands wasn't a shock, considering she hadn't done much to spread the word that she was looking for them, but with only a month inside her new home and plenty of gossip surrounding how she'd settled to it, Willa's acquaintances inside the park were still somewhat limited. Introductions were harder to come by when you were trying to steer clear of the one person who could easily offer them all. She saw him walking, brooding look on his face, and Willa set the heavy blue jug of water she'd been carrying on the ground.
"Bode?" she called, allowing for the chance that he might prefer to keep going as though he hadn't heard her, or put her off until an unlikely sometime-later, as James had done. He had suggested she ask him her questions though, and could Teagan really be angry if he did something as benign as have a public chat while walking beside her, rolling a water barrel across the park?
Yes, probably. But fuck her, Willa had been playing nicely long enough for her replacement to get her panties untwisted.
The Dog Park had been buzzing with a sort of anxious anticipation since the moment Rodeo had informed everyone of Adelaide's current predicament. There was a focused energy too, men and women all preparing for the inevitable showdown against the Capitol, murmured conversations of revenge took place all throughout the camp. Conversations that were ill-advised and fueled by bloodlust, a combination that was dangerous on the best of days and downright doomed on the worst.
Bishop had expected this, hell, he had spent the better part of the past couple days putting out fires, talking men out of foolhardy plans and reining in their bloodlust. Blood would be shed, but not because they dove blindly into the situation. Blind rage would have only one result -- loss of life on their side.
He was just coming from yet another conversation with a new patch, a kid just barely into his twenties who saw this as a way to sate his desire to see the Capitol burn. Bishop had spent the better part of an hour making it crystal clear what the ramifications would be if the young man chose to act, the conversation itself left him in a broody mood -- wondering if his words had sunk in or not.
When his name was called out, Bishop paused, attention drawn to the familiar voice. It still stopped him short sometimes to hear his given name used so freely, since before Willa's arrival there had only been a few who knew his name, and even less that used it.
"Hey," a ghost of a smile softens his earlier expression. Gaze settling on Willa as he turned towards the sound of her voice. "How is our resident chicken wrangler doing?" He asked, changing his course to head in her direction now.
She beat back the monster inside of her that purred at his smile, hefting the forty-some pounds of water up into her arms again before he got near enough that they had to contemplate what sort of non-verbal greeting was appropriate. "I don't like them much," she confessed. "And they're not too pleased with their new home as far as I can tell. Not enough bugs to be eaten, no grass to peck through for their food. And that goddamn rooster." Surely everyone in the park was equally eager for him to be slaughtered and stewed, but it would still be months before they might have a chick who could one day take his place. "I'm going to have to see if I can make a no-crow collar, test if they really work." There was barely a pause, just long enough to start walking in the direction of the livestock hangar, before Willa steered the conversation on a sharp turn, rather than wait for Bode's opinions on the flock. "Are you going with him?"
It wasn't hard to guess what she meant by the question; Rodeo had made sure everyone in the park knew what was happening with his freenet post, even if it hadn't included any details of just how his sister was going to be sprung.
He laughed when she confessed that she doesn’t like the chickens much. “You mean that hasn’t changed?” They had had a flock of chickens back in Harlan when they had been together. Bishop couldn’t remember what the decision making behind that had been -- he was almost certain Loretta had convinced them to do it, because every farm, even if there place only had a handful of acres to it, should have a chicken coop on the property. “How exactly did we let my sister talk us into the one back in Harlan again?” He’s buying himself time, avoiding her abrupt question as to his involvement in the upcoming rescue of Adelaide. The answer would have been obvious to anyone around the Dog Park, but, Willa has not been around long enough to have witnessed the fact that any big plan would, without question, involve all of the officers. Truth is, even if Bishop didn’t wear the Chaplain patch on his cut, he would have found a way to be involved. Adelaide was a part of this family and if there was one thing he always held higher than anything else, it was family.
“Here, hand that over,” Bishop motioned towards the water jug, although it’s not a demand, there’s no question in his tone either. Stopping in his tracks, he waited for Willa to hand it over before he added. “If we’re going to start talking about serious shit, I ain’t going to be doing it while you’re lugging around forty pounds of water. I can’t have everyone around this place thinking I leave all the heavy lifting to women.” There’s humor in his tone, an attempt to lighten the mood before he snaps it back to heavier topics.
“And to answer your question, yes, I’ll be going with,” blue eyes are cast in her direction as he said this, searching her face for any kind of indication of the reaction his words might receive. “All the officers will be.”
It had been years since Willa was in the company of men who disliked letting her do the demanding, physical work of an equal, and she clenched her jaw as she handed over the jug. Bode knew she was capable, he knew she was strong, he'd seen her take charge of animals more than five times her own weight. He was being gentlemanly, the same way he had surprised her by pulling out her chair for her the first time they'd actually found their way into a nice restaurant in Knoxville. She had grown independent and hard in the years since she'd let him be the one to look after her, and her hands felt empty once they'd relinquished their weight to him, never mind that she'd let half a dozen other men carry the burden of water for her without hesitation in the month since she'd arrived.
"Retta bought 'em without asking. Housewarming gift," she said, arms wrapping around themselves as they continued, though she didn't finish the memory of how Willa had taken the damn birds back to the farm store no more than a week later. Housewarming gift my ass she'd snorted before opening the box of fried chicken she'd brought home to celebrate their departure, and Bode had laughed -- Remind me never to buy the kids a puppy for Christmas.
"This is going to be dangerous," Willa asserted matter-of-factly, stomping out the memory of the imaginary kids that never came. Their would-be father was going on a prisoner-exchange, and given everything Willa knew about the band of outlaws giving her shelter, the chances of this ending without bloodshed were slimmer than the odds of her becoming a mother after all these years. "But I'm not going to be able to talk you out of it - everything you do is dangerous now."
Talking about his sister’s misguided housewarming gift was nearly as painful as remembering the conversation that had followed after Willa had returned the damn birds to the store. Bishop didn’t make mention of it though, sometimes it felt like he and Willa were still walking around on eggshells when it came to their shared history. “You know she had the best intentions,” he said instead, hefting the water jug up onto his shoulder as they continued to move towards the hanger that currently housed the menagerie of farm animals that it seemed the Dog Park was acquiring.
When she cut straight to the point, Bishop stopped walking again. With the water jug still on his shoulder, he turned towards Willa as she voiced her opinion in a matter-of-fact tone. “Willa, everything about this world is dangerous,” he remarked with a sigh. “And no, not even God himself could talk me out of going along. You don’t get it, but these people, they’re family and you know how stubbornly loyal I can be when it comes to family.”
"I don't get it," she parroted. Her head turned, eyebrows raised in indignation, though her tone wasn't malicious enough for Willa to be picking a fight. "Don't you tell me I don't understand family Bode Coldiron, not when I'm standing here with you, trying to make sure you stay out of jail or getting killed, instead of livin' in a luxury fuckin' hotel with my brother, because I know better than anyone what you're willing to give up for your family, and I ain’t wasting my breath tryin' to talk you out of what you're doing ever again. I'm telling you to remember that the ones you're going out with - they're not the only -- I'm saying you have family back here now, so you have to drag your sorry ass back inside these gates no matter what." Willa's index finger pointed at the earth beneath their feet in emphasis of her words. Don't you do it again, the voice inside of her demanded in silent outrage, don't you tell me I'm not your family when I'm right fucking here.
How little Bode understood about Willa's experience facing danger - being the danger even - wasn’t a conversation to have today, even if she didn't much appreciate the assumption that she was stupid enough to need this piece of information. It was like he somehow thought a china figurine had made it through the apocalypse, just to knock on his door. "Talk to me this time," she implored. "Tell me what's going on."
’I know better than anyone what you're willing to give up for your family’.Those words pierced straight to the heart, drawing forward regrets Bishop had carried around since the moment he chose to step back into the lawless life he had been living before Willa entered his world. She wasn’t wrong though, she would know better than anyone just how deep his sense of loyalty to family ran. Which meant she should have also known that the moment talk began of getting Adelaide out of the Capitol, he would set himself up on the front lines of that battle.
“You’re family Willa, if you weren’t I wouldn’t have fought you so hard to keep you here,” It’s a blunt reply, honest and straight to the point. Whatever history they shared, she would always be family to him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you wouldn’t understand why I’m doing it,” Bishop added. “And I promise you that we’ll all be coming back through those gates. Blood will be shed, I can’t deny that, but it won’t belong to me or anyone else from this camp.” A pause follows as Bishop begins forward movement again, a pit forming in his stomach when she implores him to talk to her, to tell her what’s going on. “What do you want to know?” It’s not an agreement to tell her everything, he couldn’t do that even if he wanted to, but it’s something.
It wasn't a surprise that Bode's hopes for the exchange weren't as noble or blood-free as Rodeo had promised in his camp-wide freenet message, and Willa didn't question Bode's take on what was likely to happen. "Please don't," she requested instead. "Don't promise you'll all be fine, it doesn't make me feel better. No one can guarantee that anymore."
"Fine, I won't promise that," Bishop countered, amending his earlier words, "But, I can promise to try my damnedest to make sure everyone comes back in one piece." That was always the goal each time they rode out of those gates -- sometimes it just wasn't the reality of things.
Willa nodded, agreeable to a promise of doing his best rather than a vow of certain safety. She struggled, trying to find an explanation for what it was she wanted from him. "I want to know what it is you're doing out here. You said that things were going to change, that you were making plans for the future, but this can't have been a part of those plans? I feel -" it was frustrating, and she was sure it showed in her face and the careful way she chose her words. No one knew her the way he did, no one would have the patience to explain the whole of the Dog Park, the Hellhounds, their relationship with the city sitting outside their gates. "I feel like an idiot, like all I do when I talk to people here is say the wrong thing even when I'm trying to get along, because I never know what the hell is going on and everyone thinks I'm just some outsider you've convinced to stick around for a while. Cal said you kill his men and steal the trucks, but why, when you have this place, and all it does is make things worse for everyone? Why do you hate them so much? Rodeo talks to me about freedom and how he's not a ruler, that we're all -" it was the ever present word, "family. But he never says what it is that they're trying to deny you, what freedom you wouldn't have, if you just stopped all of the fighting. And you said he was the only one who could make that decision, but if he's calling for justice and decency, and you think there's going to be bloodshed -"
She could've carried on longer, and he might have let her, considering Bode was acutely aware that it was often easier and smoother to simply let Willa exhaust herself, particularly when it came to venting about whatever was upsetting her at any given moment. But this time Willa wanted actual answers, managing to rein herself in for long enough to see if he was willing to offer any. "I understand family, Bode. I don't understand whatever happened to put you at war."
Unpacking the inner workings of the Dog Park, of what makes this place tick, it wasn't the conversation Bishop expected to have with her today, but it was bound to happen. Willa was not now, nor has she ever been a woman that simply sat back and took things at face value. It's what had always drawn him to her, the fact that she wasn't the type of woman to be fed lines and accept them as truth. Hell, it's for that very reason that she saw through his bullshit and called him out on his lies all those years ago. Even so, that doesn't mean he was prepared to go into any of this with her today.
Prepared or not, though. Bishop knows he can't table this, can't appease her with a small explanation and tell her to come back later.
"No, Rodeo's baby sister being arrested wasn't part of that plan," he began. "And change doesn't happen overnight. Right now, this is what we have to do to protect our own. So if that means shelving our efforts to get out of dealing Prax, well, that's what has to happen." By this point they had reached the hangar; Willa opened the door so they could both step inside the makeshift building. "Olinger is presenting the truth he wants Austin to believe, but that don't mean it's true. Early on we had our reasons for knocking over supply trucks, and it was mostly of the survival variety. Then one day we hit trucks filled with Prax and the labels, well, they revealed that the good ole' mayor wasn't telling the public the whole truth. You could say that's when our vendetta against the Capitol started, us trying to make his life as miserable as possible. There ain't no love lost between Olinger and Rodeo, and it's bled into everything around here." It's just the tip of the iceberg, not even nearly all the details. The real nitty gritty details are kept amongst the officers, shared only when it's advantageous. "You could say that the Prax started the war, and our actions in Austin have just continued it. Olinger crossed a line with arresting Adelaide, he's baiting Rodeo and we all know it. But we ain't just going to sit by and let that scum put her in La Quinta for who she happens to be related to."
"You two are peas in a pod," Willa grouched, gesturing to the troughs that had been constructed for Juniper and the cows in their improvised stables; the same blue plastic jugs, sawn in half lengthwise and nestled between crossposts. As much as she tried not to show favoritism amongst them, it was her horse that drew Willa's attention, just the same as ever, and she reached out, stroking Juniper's forehead, blowing gently across her nose before giving her muzzle a kiss. "It's drips and drops of a story, always leaving out whatever key points could make it have sense. I get it from him," Willa allowed. "I'd bet the only things he knows about me are that I'm a bitch who walked out, and maybe if you're swapping stories, an eager lay. But you don't trust me either." Willa didn't offer to turn the tables and give him unfettered access to answers about her own life these past few years. She shrugged instead, vaguely disappointed but with a smile that pressed her lips together. "If it's something you can't tell me, or you really don't want to tell me, I have to live with that. I like that you're obfuscating bits and pieces, rather than outright lying. Or maybe you've just really honed the skill in the last six years, I dunno." The teasing was gentle, considering how prickly he'd been most every time she'd tried her hand at it over the last couple of weeks.
Once the animals have been taken care of and the water jug is empty, Bishop makes his way over to Willa. He could have answered her the minute she had finished speaking, but he needed time to sort out how to answer her. The fact that she thought he would paint her as merely a bitch, that stung. They may not have parted on good terms, but he never once painted her as the sole culprit in their downfall.
“Sorry, Wills,” he began, slipping in next to her while she continued to lavish attention on Juniper. “Force of habit, we’re not exactly in the habit of handing out every last detail of our dealings. Hell, half the camp doesn’t even know everything.” The only people who knew all the deep, dark and dirty secrets of this place were those that sat at the council table. “And I ain’t ever painted you as a bitch, you know as well as I do that we played equal parts in our relationship going belly up,” again they were dancing around discussing the things that had happened between them. Each time it came up, there was always a hesitance to go deeper into it, usually walls that Bishop threw up because it was painful to look too closely at it. “So it ain’t about not trusting you, it’s just about how much I should be telling you,” as he spoke, Bishop reached a hand out to scritch Juniper’s withers. “And I ain’t lying, because six years hasn’t helped me hone that skill any.” His words might have been blunt, but the smile he flashed in her direction hinted at the fact that for the first time since she’d been back in his life, her teasing was taken for what it was.
If it was years ago she would have rested her palm on his chest and kissed him to let him know everything was alright. The urge still rested in her belly, but the counterweight of her brain kept Willa steady. She nodded instead, smiling what she hoped was an understanding, agreeable sort of smile. "It's fine," Willa said. "As long as it's honest, I'll deal with the disappointment of not being able to make you answer all of my nosy questions. Not really my place anymore, anyhow."
She kissed Juniper again, sorry that she couldn't give her best girl any carrots from the greenhouses back in Richland, and moved off, back toward the door. A smirk crept across her lips and she paused, hand outstretched to rest on the jamb -- it was what he hadn't said that gave her reason to tease now, hoping he could handle this as well as the last. "Didn't deny telling him I'm a good fuck though, did you?" she noted with an impish eyebrow, before breezing out into the wide open world of the camp before he could do so much as splutter.