Revolutionary

Breath of Life - Reply to Bar Fight
Subplot: Meet Bayou Jesus

Countless emotions ebbed and flowed through Jackson like the mouth of the Mississippi flowing into the Gulf of Mexico. Held in place and frozen on his knees by the dark force Hayley had projected upon him, anger, betrayal, remorse and concern raged into a ball in the pit of his stomach. While he could see everything happening around him, his mind was lost in a transient place reminiscent of the purgatory in which he was lost in transition having never made it to the peaceful afterlife upon his death. Whatever this force was Hayley had him in was triggering suppressed memories from the events following his death.

What Jackson remembered was being in a place in between Heaven and Hell, not a peaceful afterlife. He had been alone and in what seemed to be another dimension. He had seen and heard everything in the real world but it was veiled in shadows. No one saw or heard him. He had witnessed his funeral, Hayley’s grief in the aftermath and her recovery in the form of climbing into Elijah’s bed, at which point having his heart ripped from his body seemed like a cake walk. He couldn’t blame her as he’d done the same with Allie upon his resurrection having believed that Hayley had happily moved on.

In this moment, however, his flashbacks became more vivid, showing him the suppressed memories. An omnipresent voice had spoken to him in his purgatory that Jackson was almost certain sounded like Morgan Freeman, but there was no person to link the voice to; and a man whose face seemed so familiar, with eyes and hair matching his own. There was so much kindness and understanding in his cognac gaze and he held a peaceful and welcoming presence. When he touched Jackson, he’d been instantly enlightened, having knowledge and understanding of the delicate balance between life and death. An epic battle was brewing. As preparations were being made on Earth to bring Jackson back to life, so were preparations being made in Heaven to end a reign of terror against mankind brought by the hand of mankind. The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing man he did not exist. Jackson would be sent forth as the First Horseman of the Apocalypse, Conquest, symbolic of the second coming of Christ. Fitting... the nickname Bayou Jesus a few people had given him seemed to make a lot of sense now. He would be tasked with the discretion on when and how it would all play out, sending for the Second Horseman when the time was right.

As Hayley’s magic released Jackson, he realized he had the power all along to stop her, and did, but too little too late. He pushed back at her, knocking her unconscious and in a suspended state to preserve her from any damage she may have caused herself. Guilt racked him, not for what Hayley had done to Allie, but for what had transpired between Allie and himself that set this event into motion. Standing to his feet, he made his way to Hayley to make sure she was still breathing. Aiden and Oliver were at his side, checking on Allie who was barely hanging on. As Jackson saw it, there was really only one option and he didn’t want Aiden and Oliver to see him do it. “Y’all go on back and join the rest of the pack. I’ll take care of this.” “But Jack...,” Oliver started to argue. Jackson eyed him with a stern look. “That’s an order, not a request.” Aiden pushed Oliver in the direction of the cabins, Jackson having watched them until he knew they were well out of range. He couldn’t even look at Allie, the guilt having consumed him. “I’m sorry.” With a swift twist, he broke her neck, putting her out of her misery. A mercy killing. Fire sparked from a snap of his fingers, burning the female wolf to nothing more than an unrecognizable pile of ash.

Jackson could hear Hayley’s heart, but crouched down, placing his hand on her chest for reassurance. Her heartbeat was strong but obscured by what appeared to be the faint sound of an additional faint heartbeat, much faster than Hayley’s and not just one, but two. “What the f...” Going over the time calculations in his head, a dumbfounded expression crossed his rugged features. Scooping his wife into his arms, he carried her back towards their village to a makeshift infirmary. She was still under his forced sedation as he cut into her shoulder with the skill of a surgeon, removing the remnants of the arrow embedded there before stitching her up. Once again placing his hand over her, he closed his eyes, scanning her with an ability he never knew he had until triggered. Her head seemed okay, less a slight concussion. Her shoulder would heal. And again... the two tiny heartbeats in addition to hers, strong and unscathed.

When Jackson was satisfied that he’d throughly checked her out and she was fine, he withdrew the force keeping her under sedation so she’d wake up. He rolled his sleeve knowing she’d need to feed, but first he wanted to see what she remembered. She stirred, eyes opening, a look of confusion adorning her beautifully delicate features. “You’re in our infirmary. Your shoulder will be sore, but it’ll heal. You’ve a slight concussion and... Hales, I wasn’t sure this could happen. I wasn’t sure I could, well, I thought I was shooting blanks. But... you’re pregnant.”