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Someone in Her Corner (captain_bond x SunnyCirce)

captain_bond

captain_bond

Fuck Donald Trump
Joined
Dec 30, 2020
Location
Pittsburgh, PA, USA
It was a quiet, clear night in the Arizona desert. The cult compound was miles from any other signs of so-called 'civilization.' They didn't need that ungodly crap. Things like computers and smartphones and what not. Of course, they thought what they did need was at least two women for every man (although 'women' was a stretch since most of these poor girls were 'married' not long after their first periods, like they were in medieval times or something) and the women should always be seen and not heard, always obey 'their man'...and so on and so forth.

No one knew of this compound for quite some time...not until an unlucky man got lost and stumbled upon it. Searches were conducted, but he was found dead of a gunshot wound to the head, a high-powered rifle the murder weapon. Who, the authorities wondered, could've killed him? There wasn't anything but a lonely road anywhere near where they found him. But the Feds had already caught wind of this and wisely connected it to other deaths in that area. The cultists had always been clever, putting up camouflage tarps to shield them from passing aircraft, but they were still visible to thermal imaging. So the FBI office in Phoenix finally managed to get a Homeland Security Predator drone to search the desert where the dump sites were, and sure enough the compound was right there, lit up on the thermal sensors like a Christmas tree.

From there, things moved quickly. Surveillance was conducted to try and find out who they were dealing with, whether or not they were armed (of course they were), how many there were, and so on. Agents were called in from all over, local law enforcement was mobilized as best they could, and the FBI's elite Hostage Rescue Team was the tip of the spear.

"Bravo team, check in," FBI Agent Steve Randall murmured into his radio as he and a dozen other agents, all clad in desert camouflage and wearing body armor with the letters "FBI" on the front and back, advanced on the compound. The sentries didn't seem to be paying much attention, Steve noted as his team checked in over the radio. Each of them had a clear shot with their suppressed HK-416 assault rifles. The quiet of the desert night was about to be broken. "Bravo one to control, in position." His counterpart on the far side of the compound radioed in, "Alpha one to control, in position." The agent in charge counted down, "three, two, one, execute." Spotlights were turned on all around the compound, shining on the walls and the sentries atop them while a loudspeaker blared, "THIS IS THE FBI! YOU ARE COMPLETELY SURROUNDED! THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!" All the HRT agents had turned off their night vision and were firing at the sentries that had started to shoot blindly at the spotlights. Several calm calls of "Tango down," were heard over the radio as the perimeter was cleared and Steve moved up to the nearest gate.

An agent behind him pulled a breaching charge out of Steve's pack and handed it to him, which he promptly set on the gate before flattening himself against the wall. "Bravo one, charge is set." "Alpha one, charge is set," came the other team leader over the radio a moment later. Steve counted down this time, and both charges went off at once and the agents stormed into the compound, tossing flashbang grenades in ahead of them. An organized sort of pandemonium followed as armed cultists were either shot or tackled to the ground before they could recover from being stunned by a flashbang grenade. The structures of the compound were next, and Steve plus five others went to clear a building marked, "Jail". He didn't like the sound of that.
 
Something woke her up, but she wasn't sure what it was. Whatever it was annoyed her, because sleep was her one escape from the sweltering jail cell. She was just sitting up, overheated and sleepy, when the first shot broke out. She jerked, wide-eyed. Staring into the inky blackness that was her cell. Wincing at her sore butt scraping against the cement slab she slept on. There were no comforts for those who broke the laws of God.

The night exploded in a swarm of gunshots, men's screams, louder explosions. She stood up, her suddenly panicked breathing loud in the blackness. A sound from the front of the jail, and her breath hissed in shock.

Andrew, the overnight guard, had just SWORE! He would be put in one of the other cells if he wasn't careful. Though the men were not punished as often as the women.

"Andy?" She called out to him. He wasn't as bad as most of the men. Sometimes he was nice – like tonight when he had given her some extra bread and made sure she got cold water from the community fridge.

"Not now, Honey!"

"Is it a drill?" She ignored him, clutching at the cell bars anxiously.

"No!" She could hear the panic in his voice.

Then she heard a gunshot – this one close. From the front room. She couldn't help the terrified little squeal that burst out of her throat. Remembering the drills, she scrambled under the cement slab that served as both bed and chair in this tiny cell. The rough concrete floor scraped against her skin through the punishment dress. More shots, very close. The boom of the jail door banging open. More shots. Andy's screams. She buried her head in her arm, her hot face pressed against the cool cement.

They were right about her. She was an unrepentant sinner. If she had just gotten married like she was told to, this wouldn't be happening. This was a punishment from God. She sobbed in terror as heavy boots moved into the small building – a cabin really. A front room with a desk, a couple cabinets and chairs, and a minifridge. Then the back room with four separate small cells and a tiny bathroom. All of the cells unoccupied except hers.

A man called out but she was too terrified to answer. Maybe they wouldn't notice her. That clinging hope dissolved when the door to the back room was kicked open and she screamed.

"Hands up! Hands up!"
"Come out! Hands up!"


Her mind raced wildly. How could she come out with her hands up? She tried, though. Too scared to do anything but try. Wiggling out as the light was flicked on. She blinked owlishly at three men standing there pointing guns inside her cell. Trembling as she stood on bare feet, quivering hands held up in the air. Filthy and stinking, with layers of dried sweat built up from days in this cell with no shower or change of clothes. She was dressed in an oversized black dress, more of a sack really. Designed to be hot and painful. A rope tied the middle around her waist – it was a rough fiber rope, woven over and under slashes in the dress so that the rope would rub up against her skin, irritating it. Blood flecked the dress where she had been beaten with the punishment stick. Her right eye was swollen and bruised where one of the elders had struck her in a fit of fury. Her chestnut hair used to be long, but as part of her punishment it had been shorn short with rough scissors, leaving jagged ends behind. She was painfully thin – all of the cult members were. Their diets never varied from oatmeal, bread, vegetable and bean soups, vitamins, and occasionally a bit of meat. But during her week of punishment Honey had been limited to plain oatmeal (ironically enough not even honey was permitted as a sweetener), bread, and water. Despite the squalor she lived in and the condition she was in, she was beautiful. Heart-shaped face, big eyes, plump lips the elders laughingly called "cock-sucker lips" behind closed doors.

She flinched when one of the men swore, her eyes darting to him. Fear flickering in her chocolate brown eyes. Swearing would earn punishment.
 
Steve stepped forward, lowering his rifle. "Stand down," he ordered the others, and the two agents with him lowered their weapons and went to help clear the compound. Dressed in camouflage and wearing body armor and a helmet, he must have looked pretty strange to this girl! While radio calls of various parts of the compound being secure rang in his earpiece, Agent Randall took off his helmet and held out a gloved hand. "It's okay, I won't hurt you. You're gonna be all right. My name is Steve, what's yours?" He had no idea what sort of knowledge these people allowed their members to have, but the letters "FBI" were clearly visible on his chest, and his badge was clipped to his belt. Maybe she'd recognize them? He could only hope. "You can put your hands down. My friends were just making sure no one was hiding back here that could hurt us. You understand, right?" His hand was still outstretched, hoping this girl would take it.
 
She didn't recognize anything about them, but when they relaxed she did as well. Her faltering hands lowering hesitantly, waiting for a barked order to put them up again. No such order came, so her fingers twisted anxiously in the rough dress. Pulling at the rope that scraped against her red, irritated skin under the dress. Steve was a name she was familiar with. Steve, short for Stephen. The first martyr.

Steve was the best looking man she had ever seen. Warmth flushed through her as she looked him over. Entirely ignorant about just how obvious she was being. One of the other men coughed, looking down at the floor to hide his smirk. If they had been trying to make her marry him instead of old Elder Woods from across the country she may have agreed. Not that her agreement mattered, that much had been made clear. She would marry whether she wanted to or not, but she would be punished if her answer was not.

Maybe that would change now, though. She didn't know who these men were or what they wanted but Steve was being kind and quite frankly she could use some kindness in her life. She hesitantly stepped forward, her slender arm slipping out from between the bars, taking his hand.

"I understand."

She didn't, really. She didn't understand anything except he said she was safe, and she believed him. She didn't even understand why she believed him, but she did.

"My name is Honey. I am seventeen." A half second pause, then she flushed. "I mean eighteen. Sorry. My birthday was last week and I forgot."
 
"Happy birthday, Honey," Steve said. One of his men handed him a set of bolt cutters. "Honey, I'm gonna need you to stand back, okay? We're gonna get you out of there, but we don't want you to get hurt, okay?" Once Honey stepped back Steve cut the lock on the cell door and pulled it open. "All right, that's better. Wait, what's with that rope?" His expression darkened, although it wasn't directed at her. "I'm gonna need to take some photos for evidence, but after that we can get that off of you." Pulling out his phone, he took a few photos of Honey and her condition, then started to untie the rope. When he succeeded, he put it inside a plastic bag marked "EVIDENCE" and one of the other agents sealed it up.
 
Birthdays were not celebrated among the People of God. Most years no one even realized their birthday had passed. But careful records were kept. Most girls married young - far younger than Honey. But with her intended living far away and some cunning trickery like the six month illness she pretended to have, Honey had managed to make it to the ripe old age of 18 before the patience of her intended gave out and along with it the patience of the elders.

So his casual wish of a happy birthday was a bit confusing but she heard the kindness in his tone and offered an anxious half smile. She stood in bewildered silence as they shuffled around her, pointed things at her. She turned when they asked her to, docile as the painful rope was removed. The ragged slashes in the shapeless dress revealed reddened, irritated skin and painful bruises where it had been yanked tight.

As the bustle around her began to die down, she summoned up enough courage to ask,

"Umm, can I ask who you are? What's happening? Where is Andy? Is everyone ok? Are the children alright?"

Her voice started out faltering and hesitant. Then when she began to ask about the others, it became stronger.
 
"Oh. Well, there is a whole world out there, and most of it considers what has happened here to be terribly wrong. We are police, of a sort. We ensure that those who do bad things face justice for their crimes. And sometimes bad people are so convinced that they've not done anything wrong, they'll try to kill people like me. That is why there are so many of us here and why we are dressed like we are going to war. The children are all right, but I do not know who Andy is." Steve hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Has anyone ever mentioned trespassers, people who stumbled upon this place?"
 
She listened carefully, Anxious fingers twisting in her dress as she parsed out each word, trying to make them fit into something that made sense. Finally she concluded he was saying the Elders and Guardians that wore guns in the compound were bad. She whole heartedly agreed. She was skeptical about their intentions though, because all her life she had been trained to be wary of outsiders.

"Andy w...is in the front."

Not was. Surely Andy was alive. He had been one of the nicest. If she had been told to marry him, she may not have resisted so strongly. She was so focused on Andy that she forgot to not talk to outsiders.

"Yes, they were put on trial and...ummm...." She actually flinched at the memory. Her voice dropping in shame as she remembered helplessly standing by while they were shot.

"Well, the Elders said they were here to steal the children and take them into the world."

Eyes suddenly flicked up, looking at him in shock.

"But that is what you are doing, aren't you? Are you going to steal me too?" She sounded more curious than frightened.
 
Steve clicked his mic, checking on the status of the man who was in the front room of the jail. "He will be fine, after a while, but he tried to shoot us, so we had to stop him from doing that."

When she spoke of a trial, he nodded, not surprised that there had been some sort of spectacle, but his heart went out to the poor girl for having witnessed the 'sentence,' and knowing that his superiors would probably call her as a key witness if the triggermen were alive still. "The elders lied. These people were lost and scared, and just wanted to go home. They couldn't have taken anyone. As for us, we are not stealing you or the others. The world at large believes, as I do, that the way you and the others have been treated is very, very wrong. And when the elders shot those trespassers, they committed murder. Isn't one of the Ten Commandments 'Thou shalt not kill'? We are rescuing you from a life in which you would be miserable. Where hot, black dresses in the desert heat and ropes to damage your skin would've been the least of your worries."

He knelt down in front of her and looked in her eyes. "You see, Honey, we believe in the rights of people to choose the life they want to live, to be able to access the information to make that decision for themselves. Apart from murdering trespassers and abusing you and others, the elders denied you that freedom, that information. Surely you've wondered what lies outside these walls? We are here to give you the chance to see for yourself what's out there. And I will keep you safe along the way, you have my word on that. So, will you let me show you what you've been missing? Will you let me rescue you from this place?" Steve reached out his hand once more.
 
Once again she listened. She didn't know but many in the world would have called it 'active listening'. Her eyes never left him. Her attention was entirely on him. She had already picked up on the cues that he was a higher rank than the other two who had come in. Honey understood hierarchy and authority very well. She watched him curiously as he checked Andy's status on the radio. She didn't understood how it worked but she understood it did, and it was fascinating. She also heard something about Andy being 'stable' and that sounded like it confirmed what Steve said afterwards.

Her trust in him edged a bit higher as he took his time explaining things. She was confident he was wrong about some things. She WAS being stolen, as were the children. But she agreed with him it would be better. She had remained fairly contented most of her life here but she had made a friend in a fairly recent convert who had whispered a few tales about the world outside. Utterly fascinating tales. She WAS curious about the world outside. She wanted to see an ocean - she couldn't imagine so much water. She wanted to see snow, it boggled the mind. She wanted to learn things. She had finished school at ten years old and began caring for the other children, but she knew there were schools that taught much more, though her friend cautioned her they were wicked places. So yes, things outside were probably better. Frightening, but so much more interesting.

He was wrong about the Scriptures too. Scripture was the only reading material permitted for the People so she knew it very well. He had left off part of the verse - it said "Thou shalt not kill the People of God, but slay those who persecute the People of God." That had always seemed odd to her, because people who were not People of God became People of God, like her convert friend. But she had never dared question it.

He was very kind in offering. She strongly suspected she would have little choice in going with them. At least he was offering to make sure she would be safe. She hoped she wasn't wrong to trust him to do what he said, even if he was an outsider who had hurt the People of God. He hadn't hurt her. It was selfish, but still...

She stepped closer to him. Bare feet touching cold cement outside of her cell for the first time in a week. Her hand slipping into his. She immediately liked his hand. Men rarely touched women they were not wed to among the People. It was not the first strong male hand that she came into contact with, but it was the first time she wasn't being punished by it. She marveled silently at the roughness of his skin against hers, how his fingers effortlessly covered her entire hand. When she heard the Elders teach about Angels of God supporting and lifting up the People of God, she imagined hands that felt like this. Strong and warm and supportive.

"I believe you." Her words were a declaration of faith.
 
"Good." Steve took Honey's hand and led her out of the jail house, past paramedics and agents and scared cult victims and handcuffed cult members and those who could be both at the same time. He had gotten a text to take Honey into protective custody immediately, and that there was a helicopter on its way. Something about some records that were found that suggested she had seen and heard a lot that she didn't realize how important it was yet.

The desert night was cool and once they were outside the compound, the breeze blew against them both. "We'll get you cleaned up and get you some clean clothes first, and then we'll find you someplace safe to sleep, okay?" He stood apart from the others, just the two of them looking out into the darkness. Gradually a thump-thump-thump sound got closer and closer, until a UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter settled into a landing fifty yards from where they stood. "You're not scared of flying, are you?", Steve shouted over the noise of the rotors, but his smile and the tone of his voice suggested he was teasing her.

When she answered (or elected to stay silent, depending) he led her towards the waiting machine, teaching her to duck her head a bit even though the rotors easily cleared them both. He would help her up into the cabin and show her how to strap herself in, then when he got in he would shut the door so she wouldn't be afraid of falling out. Finally, he handed her a headset, and explained, "This is so we can talk to each other while we're in here, otherwise it's way too loud to hear once we get in the air!"
 
Honey tried to keep up but she had to work at it. She was limping – she had massive bruises all over her butt and thighs from the punishment cane. Her feet were bare as well but that didn't slow her down much, she was used to going barefooted. So she found herself hurrying after him, her small hand clutching at his as she emerged into the controlled chaos – or what felt like it to her. No one was running around shooting anymore but there were lights everywhere. Strange masked men everywhere. Crying, shouting People all in restraints. A few noticed Honey clinging to Steve and shouted at her. She couldn't hear what they said except for Sister Bethea's scream about her being a traitor, and something about the wrath of God.

Honey shifted closer to Steve, staring around herself anxiously. She noticed things. Things like the only angry people she saw were her fellow People. Some were scared, some were angry, some were crying. But none of the outsiders were showing any sign of anger. They were calm and controlled, moving about with purpose. She noticed a small huddle of frightened but safe children being loaded into the biggest, longest car she had ever seen. They were stealing the children, but she hoped they would be better off.

The RELIEF of being assured the chance to be clean again! She knew she stank and was ashamed of it, though there had been nothing she could do about it. She was fortunate she was allowed to use the toilet twice a day in the cells, sometimes three times when Andy was on duty. She wasn't very tired right now but a place to sleep other than a cement slab might change that.

"No."

It was an automatic response, made before she even took in what he had said. She didn't want to be afraid, so didn't want to admit to being very afraid. Of everything, right now. But flying? She was absolutely terrified. She knew what planes were, had even seen one once flying overhead. But the People were all warned about them and told to hide when they were nearby. Did he mean for her to get in this thing? She could not even imagine – it didn't look anything like a plane. The thing coming down, the wind from the spinning blades, the shapeless sack of a dress pressing hard against her front. It was positively indecent, the thin cloth delving between her gaping thighs, outlining her supple young breasts thrusting out from her chest.



She wasn't quite sure how she managed to get her trembling legs to the thing, or how she managed to get her inside. In her panicked mind time seemed to slow down and things were finished before she realized they had begun. Could she be blamed if her face was pale, and her hands trembling so hard she knotted her fingers in her dress? It was so loud, the wind from the blades so violent, everything so strange. Her hands wrapped around her belly in an unconscious defensive gesture, feeling the uneasy rumble beneath her arms as her stomach protested. She fought it back, refusing to throw up on the nice man who was trying his best to help her.



She took the thing he handed her, staring at it blankly. Why was he giving her earmuffs? And such weird ones too. Nothing warm and fluffy about them. But she forced a polite smile, hooking them over her ears.

"Thank you."

As soon as they closed over her ears she understood. The roaring din of just…NOISE died down to something much more manageable. Tension drained from her body.

"Oh! Oh, thank you!" This was a breath of gratitude. He really was taking care of her. But along with the brief moment of peace came a wave of exhaustion. She fought back the yawn, only permitting half of it out. Then the peace vanished when the odd plane she was in jerked. She was rising up…flying. She was flying! White knuckles clung to the seat as she stared out the window in horrified fascination.
 
The veteran FBI agent paid no attention to how the dress clung to her, he was busy watching their ride come in, and when he was getting her inside the craft, he was a perfect gentleman, not touching her any more than he had to. He even helped her strap herself in, and of course he shut the door to make sure she didn't fall out.

Steve smiled despite the discomfort Honey found herself in. "It's called a 'helicopter,'" he explained over the headset. "It's a machine that was invented after the airplane, and where an airplane has to go forward all the time, and cannot go straight up or down, a helicopter is special. It can go straight up, straight down, forward, left, right, even backwards. And of course, it can hover in place. Most airplanes cannot do that." As he spoke, he felt an instinctive need to put his arm around her. And from the way she was so scared, he didn't see the harm. So he did, taking off his gloves beforehand and putting them in a pocket somewhere on his person--he had several.

"I would've loved to take you on a nice, quiet ride through the desert until we got to the city, but there are people in charge of me that think you needed to get out of there and to a safe place very quickly. But we will land somewhere where we will switch to a car, and that will just be us two." He left out the parts where she would be examined by a nurse and asked embarrassing questions, and most likely have a rape kit done on her. Steve would warn her about that once they got back on solid ground.
 
He made her think of a teacher. She had loved Sister Delly (short for Delilah) who had been a gentle, smiling old lady who adored children and was adored by them in return. She taught all the children of the People from 5 – 10 years old; teaching them how to read and write, basic math skills, geography, a bit of science, and a whole lot of 'moral teachings'. School had only been four hours a day, but they had been Honey's favorite hours. Sister Delly was the only person who had tried to put up with Honey's natural curiosity. He reminded her of Sister Delly in how he noticed her confusion and tried to help her understand. She welcomed his strong arm around her, instantly feeling secure and safe. A strange warmth pooled in her belly. He smelled…well…delicious. Her pale cheeks flushed and something fluttered inside her and she instinctively wanted to hide her confusion from him.

Helicopter. She mentally filed that new word away as she forced her attention away from him. The window was perfect. Seconds later she couldn't look away, her attention utterly captivated as the ground rolled underneath them. They were going so fast! She could feel the wind buffeting the helicopter, and marveled at how expertly the pilot maneuvered it. The desert surrounding them was a dark expanse of nothing but the moonlight shone down onto the dirt and rocks. Questions tumbled out of her, his calm answers fueling her inquisitiveness. She wanted to know more about the helicopter and what it ran on and how people learned to drive them – or fly them, as she learned was the proper term. Fifteen minutes into the flight and lights started popping up on the land underneath them. Her excitement level swelled – people! There were people out there, living so close to her! Somehow the conversation got onto his phone within minutes had it in her curious little hands. For the rest of the flight she was lost in it, question after question spilling out of her mouth. She learned about games, Youtube, Spotify. Watched the first few shorts of her life, giggling the entire time. Listened awestruck to a few songs he taught her to find.

By the time they arrived in Phoenix, she was completely overwhelmed. Dazed and tired, her mind helplessly spinning with all of the new information she was struggling to absorb. She kept her hand in his, trotting after him like a docile little kitten. Not even bothering to interact with other people who approached them, simply letting him handle everything – up until they arrived at the medical examination room.

At first when they tried to separate her from him she protested, hot tears welling up in her eyes. But the patient female technician was able to calm her down enough that she allowed him to leave – only for a little bit, they assured her. Afterwards Honey was intensely grateful – the exam was horrific for her. She was embarrassed and ashamed when they finally finished, though the two technicians in the room were pleased to find there was no evidence of sexual assault – she was in fact still a virgin. They immediately took her to a shower where she had the longest and best shower she had ever had.

She loved it. At home they were limited to 2 five minute showers a week. Hardly enough time to wash body and hair. She was given no limit here, and the shampoo conditioner and soaps smelled so good! They gave her clothes called scrubs to wear and took the dress as evidence. Her wounded body was treated.

Finally she was released back into Steve's capable hands. She could barely keep her eyes open but the food she was fed woke her up more. She had never had Taco Tell before. Had never tried mountain dew or baja blast. She loved it all but only managed a taco and Mexican Pizza before she was too full to continue. But then she tried a cinnamon twist she nearly died of happiness and had a handful of those before she completely gave up.

By then, she was nearly ready to pass out. Stumbling from exhaustion as she followed him to the ed, not even able to summon the energy to ask questions before she was tumbling fully clothed into bed, almost instantly asleep.
 
James had of course changed into civilian clothes by the time Honey was done with her exam and shower, his sidearm from before concealed under a black windbreaker jacket at his right hip, his badge right next to it. He made a mental note to get her some proper clothes in the morning but she was clearly too tired to go shopping, not that anywhere was open except maybe an all-night Wal-Mart. After confirming that there were agents nearby ready to intervene in case something happened, and being told that they were being moved to a more permanent safehouse tomorrow, he unholstered his weapon and laid it on a small table near an armchair that faced the door next to the bed. Eventually he dozed off, but of course he would be more than able to wake up in case something happened. Before he'd fallen asleep, he had pulled up the FBI's website, and bookmarked the "About Us" section, for Honey to read if she wanted to learn more about who he worked for.
 
Honey slept like the dead, hardy moving as the sun climbed into the sky and then began slipping down. It had been barely creeping over the horizon when she had fallen into bed, and it was well after noon before she woke. But her exhausted body and mind had enjoyed the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in and taken full advantage of the opportunity for healing sleep. She woke alert and well rested, feeling good despite the residual soreness in her body.

She lay still for long moments after she woke, working through the previous night and where she was now in her head. Processing. She wasn't overwhelmed anymore. There was a humming that was calming, and she realized it was the air conditioner. Most buildings at home were not air conditioned, but one had the capability when needed and she had enjoyed it a few times helping with sick people. No wonder it was so comfortable in here. She rolled her head, taking in the room.

The sight of him still dozing in the chair brought her jerking upwards in alarm. Men and women were not permitted to be alone together unless married. She hadn't thought of it last night, but now she did. And they had been sleeping! It was cause for harsh punishment and her stomach twisted in fear. No, she didn't have to fear punishment anymore. She wasn't under the Elder's care anymore, she was underneath his.

She studied him soberly while he slept. He really was a beautiful man. It was a shame he wasn't one of the People and she could marry him. He was very kind and patient. She liked him, trusted him. Her eyes slipped to his phone on the table and she immediately captured it.

She spent the next few happy moments exploring. She had quickly learned how to navigate it last night and now she nestled there in the bed and explored even more. She read about the FBI. They DID protect children! She didn't consider not believing it. It was right there in writing. The relief was instant and overwhelming. A large part of her time had been spent helping to care for the children and she loved them all. She was glad they were going to be safe now. Her busy little fingers led her on all sorts of rabbit trails as she learned about mobsters, white collar crime, serial killers, child predators, infrastructure, civil rights and more.

But her exploring came to a swift end when the phone vibrated in her hand, ringing loudly. She shrieked, dropping it into her lap, slapping it to make it quiet before she remembered herself and looked up at him in horror.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit it!" Nothing LOOKED wrong with it, but she didn't know.
 
Steve blinked his eyes, clearing the sleep from them and chuckled. "It's all right. I'm just getting a phone call. That's what happens when I keep it on silent. I didn't want to wake you." He reached over and took the phone, answering the call. "Randall," he said, recognizing the number as being from his SAC, or Special Agent in Charge. "Uh-huh. Really? A raccoon? Aww, I always knew Kevin was a big softie. All right, I'll take Honey shopping for clothes and then we'll head over there. All right, bye." Each sentence was broken up by a pause of varying lengths, and when he hung up he turned to his charge. "All right, so good news and bad news. The bad news is that we'll not be staying here anymore. The good news is that we'll be staying in a proper house, that the FBI has made sure is safe for us. There are at least two bedrooms, cause I know you've been brought up to believe that it's not okay for you and I to be sleeping in the same room, even though I was just watching over you to keep you safe. But before that, we're gonna go shopping for clothes. I know, the scrubs are comfortable," he said, with a sympathetic pout that was all playful and not a bit condescending, "but you'd actually look a bit out of place wearing those. But, at least you look like you're a nurse who just got off her shift, so we can run with that for a little while. Would you like something to eat before we go shopping?"

When she gave her answer, he would lead her out of the room and down to the lobby to check out, and after they'd gotten on the road, he'd relay the story of how when the other FBI agents went to check out the safehouse, they'd found a raccoon in the attic. The agent named Kevin had coaxed it outside with some food and let it go, rather than get Animal Control involved or try and pick it up and drag it out.
 
Honey had grown up in the Children's Ward, a long building stacked with bunk beds. Children born into the People didn't grow up with their parents. After being weaned, they were placed in the Children's Ward. They slept there, ate there, played there (and on the attached playground), and went to school there. When she had graduated from school at ten she still remained, just helping with the younger kids. It wasn't until she had her first blood that she was moved to one of the young women's cabins. A one room cabin, it held six bunk beds with six lockers that had no locks on them. Nothing else.

She struggled to imagine a two bedroom house. A whole room just for her. It sounded lonely, and she wasn't sure she was a fan of the idea. But she didn't protest. This was all new to her and she needed him. If she got annoying, he may leave her alone and she would be lost, not knowing how to live.

"I'm SO hungry!" She was starving, and her belly growled to prove it. She had eaten a LOT the night before, more than she usually did. But it had been soooo good. She didn't know what she wanted for breakfast. Just that she didn't want oatmeal. She was introduced to a bacon egg and cheese biscuit combo from McDonalds, and nearly died of happiness. SO GOOD! Orange juice was something she had several times a month back home, and it was her favorite. This tasted even better. More orangey.

So she was well rested with a full belly when they hit the stores. She was far too overwhelmed by the choices to shop for herself. All she knew was dresses. Long modest dresses that hid her body. There were no dresses like that. She stood in the store, spinning in circles as she looked around, awestruck. The clothing was positively scandalous. But the other women looked so pretty in them she wanted to look the same. So when a store assistant volunteered to help, Honey made sure that Steve was remaining nearby and then turned herself over to literally the best time in her life. She didn't even think about money. It was never mentioned. She walked away with several pairs of jeans and shorts (!) and shirts and shoes. A couple simple dresses that she loved because they were bright and colorful and left her with shockingly high hem lines and bared arms and....she felt guilty but she absolutely loved them.

She couldn't bring herself to wear the jeans and shorts so instead the assistant had dressed her in a cute sage green sundress with shoulder straps and a hemline that ended above her knees. She felt positively naked, and was blushing furiously when she was delivered back into Steve's custody, nervously clutching several bags of clothing.

Next on their agenda was not the new house she was so very curious about. Apparently, people wanted to talk to her. She was taken to a small office in a massive building. Sitting there nervously, hands folded primly in her lap as she watched people going in and out. It was a female agent who ended up conducting her first interview.

She wasn't supposed to talk to Outsiders. It was hard, making herself. But Steve was there, and she had accepted him as her guide to the new rules and world. So she talked. And when she talked, she was completely honest. She told them everything - the good things, the bad things. How she had avoided marriage by being deceitful. How most girls married earlier and were told who to marry. How the Outsiders the elders showed to the People were given a trial with the Elders presiding as judges. How none of the Outsiders had ever been declared innocent, and had all been executed, their bodies carried off to disappear forever. When presented with pictures, she identified men. Identified shooters, Identified men who had married young girls, even identified some elders from other places who had visited the compound. Even if she didn't know their names, if she saw pictures she could identify what they did. The man who was to be her husband was influential and had visited often, bringing other men who were guests. All of them had taken part in executions. She had seen documents with names on them. Not all pictures she was shown she recognized, but she recognized a lot.

It was a gold mine of information and when asked if she would testify, she simply looked bewildered. Looking to Steve for guidance on what to say.
 
"Honey," Steve said, "in this world, trials are conducted fairly. The evidence is presented, and witnesses are called to testify as to what they saw, heard, and did. Then, a group of people called a jury decides whether or not a person is guilty or innocent. Thus, when my friend asked you to testify, that means you will take part in a trial to determine whether or not the people that you grew up with are guilty or innocent. By the standards of the rest of the world, they did very bad things, and by those same standards, they ought to be punished for it. But that punishment, or even whether or not they receive said punishment, is not up to me, nor you, nor the judge. We abide by a concept of 'innocent until proven guilty.' The job of the FBI and other police is to apprehend people who do wrong, collect evidence that proves that they did what they have been accused of, and ensure that they cannot flee or harm others while their trial is being conducted. Sometimes, people who do bad things don't want to face the consequences of their actions, and fight back against people like me. This is why we carry guns. But no one who carries a badge wishes to use it. They are simply trained to do so, and willing to accept it when it's necessary." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I know that what we are asking you to do is difficult. You grew up with some of these people, these people that are going to be on trial for their crimes. But think about this for a moment. Why am I, a trained FBI agent, going to take you to a safe house? Why am I going to watch over you while we are there? Would you be in danger, if the people you grew up with were just, benevolent caretakers?" This was Honey's chance to think for herself, to decide whether or not she would help punish those who had abused her all her life. He did not blurt out the answer he would have responded to that question with--an emphatic "no"--because to Honey it might not be that simple. It was difficult to imagine having to make a decision like that, and Steve's heart went out to her. But he would respect whatever she decided to do, or not do, and protect her until the threat was ended.
 
As always, Honey listened carefully. She was starting to get tired, it was exhausting talking about all this. She was a little hungry too but wouldn't even think of asking for something to eat. But she still focused intently.

It was easier than he thought. They hadn't asked about the really bad punishments. The People who fled but were brought back, sentenced as being under demonic influence, and freed of that influence. Freed with a gunshot, just like the Outsiders.

So she told them that too. And promptly agreed to testify. It was clearly something Steve wanted her to do, and she was happy to do so. He SAID she was in danger but she didn't feel in danger. As long as he was there, she felt perfectly safe. He had even stayed with her all night and though she knew that was wicked, she liked it cause it made her feel safe. How could they find her anyway? She was going to a safe house, he had said so herself. You were apparently safe in these safe houses. They were somehow different from unsafe houses.

So of course she agreed. She was delighted at the opportunity to please Steve and make him and his friends happy. She was given some papers and it was explained that she was agreeing to being placed in the custody of the FBI. All she understood was that Steve was going to remain with her and take care of her, and she happily signed.

After all of that, she was finally taken to the safe house. Her excitement knew no bounds. It was the nicest, prettiest house she had ever seen, even if it wasn't that special by most people's standards. She ran from room to room, seeking explanations for things. The tv, computer, microwave, alarm system, everything. She was astounded at the two car garage - all that space to store cars and trucks! The kitchen blew her away and she wanted to cook. She had helped in the kitchen back home sometimes, but all they made was oatmeal, bread, and vegetable soup. She didn't want any of that. That led to a lesson on how to find recipes and cooking vlogs online and she spent most of the rest of the day reading and watching them.

No cooking was done that first day though. She was tired and overwhelmed and everything was new. She discovered the delights of Doordash and the glories of BBQ. She took her first bubble bath and finally sank into her bed. Tired and happy and full of thoughts and ideas.

She was so comfortable and tired, but she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly. It was too quiet. No one else was breathing in the room. She had never experienced such silence and didn't like it. But she tried. For several hours, she tried to sleep. Finally she was up, sitting on the edge of the bed in a new baby pink sleepshirt that fell to just above her knees. Trying to convince herself that it would be ok if she snuck in his room. She wouldn't get in his BED! That was too far. But she would be comfortable sleeping on his floor with the carpet - something else that was new to her. She could take her pillow and....

It was past midnight by the time she found the courage to make her move. Grabbing her pillow and creeping out of her room and across the hall to his. It was dark in his room and she didn't want to fall over something and wake him. So just inside the door she curled up on the floor with her head on that soft, soft pillow. Immediately, she relaxed. His steady breathing was soft in the room, but it was enough to immediately lull her to sleep.
 
James had woken up in the night to use the bathroom, and found Honey asleep in his doorway. "Awww," he whispered to himself, "she doesn't want to sleep without me watching over her, does she?" He softly scooped her up and carried her back to her room. Then, when he was done in the bathroom, he grabbed a sleeping bag and laid it down in her room, not blocking anything. He'd let her know in the morning that they could sleep like this every night, or they could just sleep in the living room where there was a fold-out couch and a chair that was practically a bed when it was all stretched out. But for now he just watched over her, like he promised himself he would do...and fighting an urge to kiss her on her forehead before crawling into his sleeping bag.
 
She half woke up when he found her and scooped her up. But she was so tired she couldn't be bothered to care. Tossing one sleepy arm over his shoulder and nuzzling his chest in a sleepy haze as he carried her back to her bed. She snuggled down in her bed, yawning and stretching, rolling in her side and pulling the blanket over herself and falling sound asleep.

A few hours later her eyes blinked open as she half woke up. Half sitting up till she saw him on the floor. Then she settled back down and slept again.

The next morning was her first sortie on the kitchen. Microwaved waffles and a simple fruit salad were served with a beaming smile of pride. No waffles were harmed in the cooking. It had been easy to follow the directions.

The breakfast conversation was an interesting one. She considered the options. She didn't want him to have to sleep on the floor. Nor, quite frankly, did she want to. Two nights on a normal bed had spoiled her.

"Maybe we can sleep in the living room then? It's just hard to sleep when it's so quiet. I've never slept in a room by myself before. I just feel better with someone there. Or...both beds wouldn't fit in the same room, will they?" She hated to give up that super comfy bed but she would rather have him nearby, where she could listen to him breathe.

The next topic was school, and she was instantly on board. The next several hours was getting her signed up and exploring the site and her online books and classes. She already knew some basic Spanish from some Spanish speakers among the People so Spanish class was one of her class choices. All of her classes were basic, she was far too behind to handle anything else. Following a suggestion, she chose personal finance. But learning about what that involved brought up curious questions that were - for the first time - personal.
"So if you need money to buy things, how did we get my clothes?" She was wearing jeans for the first time in her life, paired with a sleeveless buttery yellow tank top. "Who paid for it?" That brought more questions. Did he have other people he took care of? Was he married? Any kids? A fiance? Girlfriend and boyfriend were terms she didn't know.


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The People were prepared for a raid, even the size of the one made that disabled the core of their training program. The compound Honey had grown up in was where up and coming males were sent for military training. It was the main recruitment hub where new cult members were tested and weighed to see how useful they would be. It was where all the children and unmarried women and girls were kept. It was a crippling blow, but one they could answer. Their base of operations was immediately shifted to a remote and empty bit of land in the Pacific Northwest. High powered expensive attorneys worked tirelessly to get the arrested cult members out on bail - mostly succeeding because they had no prior convictions. Those people released immediately disappeared, whisked away to the new compound to continue their duties.

They had been well trained, with fear drilled into them. Not a single adult turned except for Honey. Most of the younger children talked, but they were either too young to be able to testify in court or - as was mostly the case - they knew nothing of value. After a very busy day, there was only one adult the organization that ran the People could not account for.

The People, the Cult, was one of several fronts for a billion dollar crime organization. That kind of wealth brought resources, and those resources were exercised. Phone calls were made and the hunt began. In the Phoenix field office, Megan Yu received a text message while getting ready to shut down and head home. Instead of doing so, she sat back down to make some discrete inquiries into the system. She had a gambling issue and sometimes had to gather information. What kind of parent named their child Honey, for fuck's sake?
 
Steve chuckled at Honey's questions. "Well, the FBI paid for some of it, and they'll pay for your schooling. I paid for some of the extra stuff." He would explain that both beds could fit in the living room, but that would be a lot of work for just the two of them. "We'll figure something out, don't you fret." He explained that he was single, that he didn't have any special women in his life. Then he explained that there was a middle ground between 'friend' and 'fiance', called a boyfriend or a girlfriend, but most people said 'partner' these days because sometimes people weren't comfortable with being referred to as male or female. This led to a brief explanation of the LGBTQ+ community--brief not because he felt uncomfortable discussing such things, but brief because he didn't know much about it, being straight and cis.

"The thing you gotta understand, is that they're all deserving of respect," he said. "Just because they live a certain way or love certain people that other people might find disagreeable, doesn't mean they're bad or that they deserve bad things to happen to them." He couldn't help but admire her curiosity, and damn but she looked incredible in her outfit!

Later, after she had gotten done signing up for classes, he opened a cabinet in the living room and pulled out a documentary on cults on DVD. "Tell me if anything you see here is familiar," he said and popped it in so they could both watch it. One of the people that provided a lot of the commentary was, according to the text on the screen, "FBI Special Agent James Randall, Retired." Steve pointed to the screen the first time he appeared. "That's my dad," he said. "He did the same thing I'm doing now, helping lost children find their way again. Helping them heal from the pain, the confusion." With these words, he laid his hands atop hers. "When this is over, I'll introduce you to him. He's actually doing really well for a man his age."

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Luckily for the forces of righteousness and good, the FBI was meticulous in setting up Honey's security arrangements. Only the SAC and Steve knew exactly where Honey was being held. Even the team of agents that found the racoon in the attic had cleared out five other safe houses, all of which were traps set for the cult and those behind them. The FBI knew that "The People" was just a front, but the question of "a front for what?", hung over their heads like a Damocles sword.

They had set up a virtual trap as well, if anyone breached the FBI's systems or ran a search from inside for the name "Honey" that would be instantly traced. So when Agent Yu made her 'discreet' inquiries, they were nevertheless discovered. Her phone and hard drive were promptly dumped, the texts found and the gambling issues uncovered. Rather than confront her, they decided to use her, letting her search lead to one of the decoy safe houses. By the time this was accomplished (which took less than a minute), the agents at the decoy house were alerted and reinforcements were already being dispatched in the form of more heavily-armed HRT agents.
 
Their conversations gave her a lot of food for thought. She agreed with him, everyone deserved respect unless they proved they didn't deserve it - like the Elders. But a lifetime of being taught about how evil sex was - especially THAT kind of sex....it was hard to move past. She was determined to though, and made a mental note to research it on Google later.

The movie made her even more thoughtful. She recognized many of the tactics the People used. Her life with them literally checked off every tactic covered. Fear of punishment. Propaganda. Not allowed to have anything personal. Being married to strangers. Isolation from others, even family. The more Honey thought on that one, the sadder she got. She didn't even know who her mother and father were. A family sounded nice. She wished she had grown up with one. It pissed her off that she had been denied that - and for what?

Her hand turned, small fingers twisting in his. Her sad eyes meeting his.

"I would love to meet your dad. I wish I had one but I don't. So it would be really nice to meet yours. I want to thank him for teaching you to help people, cause you helped me. I...I don't know what I would do if it weren't for you. I don't know how to do anything."

Tears welled up in her eyes. She was suddenly overwhelmed by how much she had lost and never knew she should have. How much she had to learn to have any hope of making it in the world. Other girls her age knew how things worked, already had friends and family and an education and she....she had nothing. Nothing but Steve. And how long would she have him? He would eventually leave her, he was only staying with her cause it was his job.

The tears ran down her cheeks now and she was embarrassed, swiping them angrily away.

"I'm sorry. I am ok. I think it's time to make dinner." She shifted, ready to flee into the kitchen.
 
Steve gently held her wrist, not hard like the Elders would've probably done, but enough to encourage her to stay. "Hey, Honey. I know you're scared and upset and you feel like The People stole your life from you. And you're right, they did. But I'm teaching you the things they didn't want you to know. I'm giving you the tools they kept from your hands. And I promise you, I am here because it is my job, true. But I am also here because I want to be. I care for you, in a way that I haven't cared for anyone in a long time. The FBI wants you to survive. I want you to thrive, to rise above. The FBI wants to keep you safe. I want to...heck, I just want you to be happy, Honey. Safe, happy, cared for, and loved. I can safely say that I am more than happy to provide the first three things for as long as you need. I have an apartment, on the west side of the city. It's a two-bedroom apartment. When this is all over, you can stay with me if you want. How's that sound?"
 
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