Way Down I'll Go

That Murmurs Over the Weary Sea

The elation Jo felt from that kiss almost outweighed his guilt. 

Almost. 

The condemning magistrate in his skull had been fading lately. Though still present, it had become a low grumble, a vociferous afterthought. But it was still there. 

And it was most decidedly displeased.

Have you forgotten who you are, boy? it shouted. Have you forgotten what you are?

No, he thought with a misplaced smile. I'm Rachel's man.

Though he'd never pictured the voice having a face, he could imagine its expression. Its eyes grew wide. It sputtered, mouth opening and closing like a bloated fish.

The thought made him grin.

Wipe that smile off your face. You look like a madman.

Well, it was probably right about that, judging by the wary side-glances thrown his way by the grey-haired lady sitting across from him on the jerking bus. But Jo couldn't bring himself to care.

He'd kissed a girl.

That wasn't your first kiss, you whore. Stop acting like you're pure and innocent. You corrupted that girl. You've tainted her.

Jo was only half listening. He was too busy imagining how much better Rachel's lips would feel against his.

That image danced through his mind for the next eight hours at the construction site. By the time he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he was so engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't at first notice the scattered papers littering the hallway. It wasn't until he reached the door that he was pulled forcefully back to reality.

The door was open.

Swinging lightly from a draft, the door hung crookedly off its hinges, giving a glimpse of the wreckage inside.

Jo entered slowly, checking behind doors and in closets before letting out a stifled breath. The apartment was empty. And it was all but destroyed. Shattered plates and glasses covered the dented floor. Mattresses were shredded, blankets ripped in two. Every pane of glass in the windows had been broken, allowing the wind to blow torn book pages across the ground. What caught Jo's eye, though, was the dripping red paint smeared on the wall.

WATCH YOUR BACK

_______

It took Jo an hour to clean up the littered apartment. It took him another forty-five minutes to scrub the stubborn paint off the wall. Fifteen minutes into fixing the door hinge, he heard feet shuffling up the stairs below him.

"I don't know who you pissed off, boy, but I thought sure I was gonna find your body stuffed in a closet somewhere."

Daryl, his landlord trudged nonchalantly up the stairs, struggling to light his cigarette.

"Sorry to disappoint," Jo half-joked as he turned back to the stubborn hinge.

"Hell, you pay your rent on time." 

Daryl slid the still unlit cigarette behind his ear and pushed the door up so Jo could attach the hinge to the doorframe. 

"Other than that damn kid of yours cryin' all hours of the night, I ain't wishin' you dead just yet."

Jo said nothing, struggling to twist the nearly stripped out screw into place.

"Y'all wasn't home when they came?" Daryl grunted, a bead of sweat dripping down his umber skin.

Jo shook his head, giving the stubborn screw one last turn. Nodding his thanks to the panting man, he tested the door, finding it swung and shut as it should.

"I'll have Jerry come replace the window panes tomorrow. He'll repair the lock, too."

"I'm sorry about all this..." Jo said quietly. "I don't get paid 'till Friday, but we can get by with plastic until-"

"Nah, kid. It's cool. Just pay me Friday."

Jo nodded, shaking Daryl's large hand. 

"Thanks."

_______

"You're not going back tonight. Not with broken windows and a lock that doesn't work."

The worry in Rachel's voice was evident and Jo found it strangely soothing. Before he could object, she continued.

"And don't you dare say a word about inconvenience or being a burden, because you're not. You never will be."

Jo found himself smiling again. Without thinking, he reached his hand up to brush away a lock of hair that had plastered itself to her forehead from the stove-top steam. Some of the worry in her gaze dissipated at his touch. She set down the wooden spoon she'd been using and took his hand in hers. Jo's heart skipped a beat. Or three.

"It wouldn't be safe."

"I know," Jo replied, running his thumb along the smooth skin hand. "We'll stay with you tonight, if you're willing."

"You know I am."

"I know."

Without speaking, Rachel wrapped her arms around his torso and laid her head against his chest. Jo tensed only for a moment, and then enveloped her in his arms, his hand reaching to caress her hair. He noticed Rachel's fingers tracing the scars on his back through his thin shirt. Neither spoke for a bit.

"How did you survive it?" she finally asked, her finger pausing over a particularly gnarled lesion.

"Being whipped?" he murmured, straining to keep his voice steady.

She sniffed quietly, and Jo could hear the tears in her voice. 

"All of it. Your childhood. You father."

Jo placed a gentle kiss on her hair. 

"There was a time when I didn't want to. Survive, I mean. Before the boys...I didn't want to go on living. They saved me."

"You're the strongest man I know, Jo," she whispered against his chest, causing him physical pain.

"No, Rachel. I'm not worth much. You make me want to be more."

She pulled away from him slightly and raised her tear-marked face to look at his. This time, it was her hand that found his face, running along the length of the scar that slanted from the middle of his cheekbone and disappeared beneath his jawline.

"You're worth everything to me."

As she hugged him once more, Jo rested his cheek against her golden hair. He tried to focus on her words. On her scent. On the softness of her skin. The gentleness of her voice. But the scar on his face burned from her touch and awoke the sleeping hyena in his head.

She'll soon find you out. She'll see you for what you are. See if she'll touch you then. See if she thinks your worth anything more than the few dollars you were sold for.

She won't want you then.

Jo knew he should let her go. Knew this was all an illusion that was bound to crumble sooner than later. Knew he would have to wake up from this dream. But instead he clung to her for a moment longer. 

In that moment, he held her, allowing the beating of her heart and cadence of her breath to lull him back into his blissful chimera once more.