Chapter Text
Quiet and calm, David Seed observed the world with an air of caution. Playing with a small horse, he tilted his head in confusion at the yelling in the living room and jumped when his dad landed on the ground staring up at the ceiling. David looked up.
“Jakey?” he babbled and ran toward his brother. When David got too close the eldest Seed threw himself away from the baby, breathing hard. “Go find your toys, kid.”
David didn't listen, bringing his arms up. Jacob's voice hardened. “Go, David!”
David's eyes portrayed a blurry world back to him as he was carried through the forest. Apparently going down in a helicopter explosion wasn't good enough tonight, he had to also fall off a bridge, too. Seeing as they were descending down some metal stairs, David slowly drifted off again.
“...We must give thanks to God. The day I have promised to you has arrived. Everything I’ve told you has come true...”
Words swam into and out of his brain as if they possessed him and David squeezed his eyes shut again.
“...The authorities who tried to take me from you are now in the loving embrace of my family...save for one.”
It felt like Joseph was actually drilling sermons into him. Jesus Christ, everything fucking hurt. He felt like vomiting. David slowly regained his vision and unsurprisingly, but still surprisingly, he hands were zip-tied to a bedpost. Huh.
“I am your Father. You are my Children. And Together, we will march-”
The radio clicked silent. David froze in his struggling and looked up at his captor. An old man, framed by an American flag, stared at him from the other side of the room. His uniform, and his look of disdain, alongside the military bunker, screamed veteran at David.
“Do you know what that shit means?” The man sat in front of David. ‘Dutch’, if the name on the jacket was correct. “It means the roads have all been closed,” he punctuated closed like David didn’t understand fucking English. “It means the phone lines have been cut.”
David would’ve been a bit skeptical of the cult’s ability to do that but such scrutiny has since been left in the river. He swallowed.
“It means there’s no signals getting in and out of this valley. But mostly, it means we’re all fucked.”
The term ‘pissed off’ would never do justice the look Dutch has on his face right now as he drilled the seriousness of the situation into David. Despite mounting evidence, the deputy struggled with it and reality bled through his fingers in front of him. One trip. It was a favor from the Sheriff to let him do this arrest, this one arrest, and he would’ve been able to speak to his brothers, to correct a mistake.
"Best thing for me to do, is to hand you over." Dutch said monotonously. David tensed up. Fuck, he hadn't meant to go kick the hornet's nest across the field like this. He didn't even want to envision the anger Joseph could unleash at finding out just who was fucking with his family. Oblivious to the distress clanking in David’s head, Dutch sighed and cut him free before telling him to get rid of his uniform.
When he has a moment to himself, David shakily exhaled and pulled out a photograph from the pocket of his shirt. At least he’d been smart enough to put it in a case. Not smart enough to listen to his dad, though. He'd been right about all of this. David turned the photo over.
Three boys stood in front of a white parish; one of them held a baby. No one’s smiling, and the sun is a bit too bright.
John, Joseph, and Jacob at David’s Baptism. Jacob’s purple chicken-scratch said glaring at him.
David washed his face in a nearby bathroom and stared at his clean-shaven reflection. The resemblance wasn't entirely noticeable. Hazel-green eyes. Brunette hair. His cheekbones weren't as pronounced as Joseph's, but he definitely had the eyelashes and nose. Thank God for the church’s shitty lighting and its annoyed, distracted congregation. David huffed. He cannot tell a goddamn soul here who he is. Unless, of course, he wants to die a particularly painful death on either end of the war.
Joseph’s blank eyes flashed in his eyes. Staring at him without hatred or kindness as he broke his brother's memory of him into pieces. David straightened.
He shouldn’t grow a beard either.
After changing he found the veteran in a surveillance room. In a slightly better mood, the old man formally introducing himself as Richard Roosevelt and asked David what his name was. By all means, go ahead, David fucking Seed. Go on! Tell the class who you are. I'm sure they'd love to give you your last rites early.
The Marshall then flashed into David's head. Rookie. Rook. David didn’t entirely forgive Burke for leaving him to die, twice, but he did give him an idea. A stupid idea, but whatever.
“Rook,” David muttered after a few seconds.
Dutch gives him a questioning once over. “Rook…?”
“I’d uh, rather the cultists don’t know my name.” Rook said despite mounting embarrassment.
Dutch slowly nodded and leaned back. “Far enough.” The implication of what would happen, should the old man be caught by the cult, stayed thoroughly unspoken.