On Hallowed Ground, Chapter 3 - Xena Uber

[calliopes_muse]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I'm a little late doing this.  This was submitted for Ralst's Epic Proportions challenge.  I thought I'd do a little self-pimping.  This is more or less an original fic that I have been meaning to write for a long time, but I used the basic charactistics of Xena and Gabrielle for our main characters.
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2:  I will post this in chapters for those who like it that way, but the link to the full story is below.
THANKS: To my primary beta, Sofia Lindsay, for listening to my insecurities and reading and re-reading this fic. It wouldn’t have been done had she not poked the daylights out of me. That sounded very wrong! Also, thanks to my secondary betas on this fic, Darkbardzero and Sinjenkai. Last but not least, to my partner Michelle for puttng up with my late nights working on this.

SUMMARY: Young and ambitious journalist Riley Jacobsen returns home to Alabama for an undercover story on her town’s former church and opens the door to more than she ever expected.

RATING: Mature, for descriptions of violence, abuse, and f/f sex.

CHALLENGE: Submitted as part of the Epic Proportions challenge.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

©April 2009

Feedback is crack, folks.  Let me know what you think.

ON HALLOWED GROUND (link to full story)

By Calliope’s Muse

 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

The alarm blared far too early for Riley. She stumbled out of the small bed, cramped from having her long legs pulled up all night on the too short mattress, and bumped the doorframe leading into the bathroom with her shoulder.

“Son of a bitch!” She rubbed at her shoulder and glared at the doorframe as if doing so would make it cower into submission.

She fought to open her eyes under the harsh fluorescent lights and made a face at herself in the mirror, “Welcome to your first day in hell, Jacobsen.”

In the kitchen she added a little more to her scoop of coffee. She felt like she’d need it today with it being the first group meeting. She wandered back to her bedroom and grabbed the first pair of jeans she found and a rumpled David Bowie t-shirt.  She had five minutes to get to the meeting so she quickly pulled her hair back in a ponytail and slipped on her worn baseball cap before heading out.

She mused that life like this was easier in some ways. At least she didn’t have to remember to lock up or worry about locking herself out of the house. It was one less thing to carry in her pockets, though she refused to give up the begrudging comfort of her cell phone. She loathed and loved it at the same time. Out here, it was her only connection to the real world, but she dreaded the worried and inquiring calls from Jack and even Al. Plus, there was no one to impress so she didn’t even bother with makeup.

Hell, no heels…no makeup! Those two things alone may make this adventure into hell worthwhile!

******

The meeting house was set off to the side of the church. It was a basic warehouse style building with the only sign as to its purpose being a simple sheet of computer paper taped to the inside of the door that read “Real Life Program.”

With a deep sigh, Riley opened the door and moved inside. A fold out table was directly in front of her with a sign on it saying “Check In.” The Hilton this was not, Riley mused. Two gray-haired ladies sat at the table and they smiled at her kindly as she approached. As she got closer, a pair of familiar brown eyes looked up at her. It was Mrs. Peterson, her 10^th grade English teacher, the woman who had encouraged her love of reading and writing. If she had to attribute anyone with her becoming a journalist, it was Mrs. Peterson. She had worked for The Warrior Way part-time while teaching and told her students of her love for her “other” job. She had a way of telling it so it sounded far more exciting than it probably really was.

A pang of sadness, which comes with realizing one of the people you respected as a child could support such a horrid program, hit Riley in the gut. She couldn’t believe Mrs. Peterson, of all people, who spoke with such passion about human and civil rights for blacks, would be here. Mrs. Peterson had been her very own hero, but in the end, she was just human and flawed like everyone else.

The elderly woman stood and walked around the table. She took the taller woman in her arms, “Riley Jacobsen. It’s so wonderful to see you again. I couldn’t believe it when I saw your name on the list. Welcome home, honey.”

Riley fought to keep down the tears, “Mrs. Peterson, you look good. How’s your family?”

“Oh, Mike’s as ornery as ever and Sylvia, my eldest, you remember her, well, she had her first grandchild last month.”

“That’s great!” Riley dug through her memories of the family and realized that Mrs. Peterson hadn’t said anything about Randall. He had been a few years older than Riley and was a quiet and reserved kid.

“I was so sorry to hear about your mother. She was such a wonderful, God-fearing woman.”

“Thanks,” Riley answered uncomfortably, “How’s Randall? I haven’t heard anything about him since I left.”

The older woman’s face turned dark and sad, and she moved to sit back in her chair, rubbing at a sore spot on her hip.

“He died three years ago,” she paused a long time, a hardness coming over her face, as she nearly snarled the word out, “AIDS.”

Riley should have seen that coming, “Oh, Mrs. Peterson. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure the devil’s making him far more sorry than I am right now. Come, let’s get you signed in.” With that, the conversation was closed. Riley shook with the chill that Mrs. Peterson’s words sent through her. She’d never understand how a parent could think so cruelly of her own child.

******

Riley took a seat on one of the hard metal chairs set in a circle at the back of the building. Across from her were three other people, two women and a young man who appeared to be barely an adult. They didn’t look at each other or at her, but stared at their hands or a vague point off in the distance. Apparently, there was a spot on the wall that was far more intriguing than the humans around them.

Suddenly, a loud bang behind Riley made all of them jump.

“Ow!” A muffled reply on the other side of the door was the only indication that someone was trying to get in. Riley turned to see a blonde head and shoulder poke through the small opening.

She jumped up and ran for the door to grab it before Sam decapitated herself and Riley would be writing a news story of a totally different type.

“Whoa, easy there, She-ra! I got it.”

Sam looked up smiling, as she tried to blow a lock of hair out of her eyes, “Thanks!”

Riley eyed the dolly full of boxes, heavy boxes that nearly crushed each box below it, “Here, let me get that.” Without discussion, Riley took the handle from Sam. “Hold the door for me.”

With a yank, Riley pulled the heavy load into the building, “Did you get all of this here by yourself?”

“Yep!”

Riley shook her head as she turned the cart around in front of her, “Next time ask for help, okay? I don’t mind.”

Sam put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself after the exertion. She nodded her head and smiled, “Sure, I’ll remember that.”

“Good. Now where do you want this?”

“Over there,” she pointed to the opening between the ring of chairs, “Put it in the middle of the circle.”

Sam followed and watched as Riley carefully unstacked all the boxes on the floor. When she stood, she indicated the dolly still in her possession, “What do you want to do with this?”

“I’ll just take it back to my car.”

“I’ll take it. It’ll give me a reason to get up and move around. All of this sitting and waiting is making me nervous.”

Sam led the way outside, popped the hatch on the back of the church van, and turned. In the bright sunlight, Riley saw what the fluorescent lighting hid. A slight reddening at the corner of Sam’s mouth and the outline of dark blue under her skin that makeup couldn’t hide. Riley knew what it was without having to ask, and the thought made her fling the dolly into the back of the van a little harder than necessary.

“So, what happened?” Riley gestured at Sam’s face.

Sam instinctively raised her hand and felt the wetness of fresh blood on the corner of her mouth, “Oh nothing. I bit my lip a minute ago trying to get this stuff in. No big deal.”

“Do you always bruise so easily when you bite your lip?”

“It’s nothing. Come on, it’s time to get started.”

Riley crossed her arms as the younger woman walked back toward the building, “You’re welcome.”

Sam stopped and turned. The look in Riley’s eyes must have said it all. The blonde raised her hands in surrender, “Alright. Sorry! Thank you, Riley, for your help.”

Riley smirked, letting her concerns go for the moment, knowing she was going to have several months to get to know Sam. “That’s better. We are in the South after all. The niceties must be observed.”

“Absolutely,” Riley opened the door and made a grand gesture for Sam to enter, making Sam laugh.

Both stopped laughing as they entered and noticed at the other end of the building, a handsome man in a dark suit charming Mrs. Peterson into a fit of girlish giggles. With the burgundy bound Bible tucked neatly under his arm, he used the other to wrap the elderly woman up in a one-armed hug.

“Is that…?” Riley didn’t get to finish.

“Yep! Taller and a little thicker in the middle, but John Jr. hasn’t changed much, huh?” 

“Nope, still charming anyone with two X chromosomes, I see.” Riley focused in on John, feeling something was off but not being able to put her finger on it. Her memory of their one and only date making her feel nauseous. She pushed it down with a long sigh.

“So, I thought your dad ran this gig.”

“Well, see, that’s an interesting story. Our dad’s been sick the last few years so he’s never actually had a hand in the program. It’s really all John’s baby.”

Riley looked at Sam with curiosity, “But he runs it under your dad’s name and under the name of the church even though he’s not the official pastor here.”

“Let’s say that John has a way with people. He’s been very good about rubbing elbows with the right politicians and finding funding from major donors. People who have never heard of or even stepped foot in Warrior, Alabama, but they believe in the cause. Come on, looks like we’re starting.”

Sam stepped away from Riley as her brother approached, but Riley didn’t miss his first words to her, “This is bit of a mess, ain’t it, for the first meeting? I expect it organized better next week. I know it’s a small group, but that’s no reason to be lazy.”

John started to walk away and then turned back, “Oh, and would you mind getting me some coffee?”

Riley noticed Sam struggle with the words, “Sure thing, John.”

The dark-haired snake oil salesman turned to Riley with an obvious sneer, “If it isn’t Riley Jacobsen. The prodigal child has returned.” He let his eyes drift over her body in blatant appreciation. 

“And some things never change,” he glared at her before turning away. Riley noted that some things truly hadn’t changed here. John was still the patronizing, ball-shriveled little bastard he had been in school, and she was suddenly very relieved that her shipment was coming in this afternoon. She was definitely going to need it.

******

The sun was high in the sky as Riley brought up the last bucket of sand from the river. It was a slow go, but as she hoisted the padded cylinder on top and locked it into place, it was all worth it. She wiped away the sweat rolling into her eyes as she stepped back, raised her fists, and let loose with a vicious roundhouse kick.

The satisfying thwack of skin hitting plastic sent a thrill through Riley, “Oh yeah, I needed this.”

Thinking about group this morning set her off into a series of jabs and uppercuts. John’s comment to the young man, Phillip, caused her to swing around and land a vicious spinning back kick to the punching bag. The poor kid was bawling at being kicked and beaten by a group of boys at school and all John said was, “He who liveth by the sword shall perish by the sword. You can’t really expect to live as you do and not face the consequences.”

Riley had found herself fighting the urge to knock John’s lights out. Phillip cried harder at his words and if she wasn’t mistaken, John smiled at the kid’s pain. Son of a bitch! 

Thirty minutes later, Riley, who was still blindlessly throwing solid punches and hard kicks, her long dark hair hanging in wet tendrils and the sweat dripping from her white tank top, nearly punched a clueless Sam who had walked up behind her.

The brunette had barely pulled back on a spinning backhand in time to stop from hitting Sam, but unfortunately, lost the battle with gravity and fell hard to the wooden deck when her fist missed the punching bag as well.

“Jesus Christ, Sam! What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me?” With the adrenaline pumping, Riley forgot where she was but realized it was too late to take back the words. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Sam was smirking…actually, smirking, “It’s okay, Riley. I really shouldn’t have gotten so close. I was calling your name from the moment I walked in the door, but you were…in a zone, I guess.”

Riley pulled herself up and brushed off her backside, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Sam stepped back as the taller woman stood, a little intimidated by not only her imposing stature but the wild look in her blue eyes. For a moment, Sam wasn’t sure if she could or should trust the woman, an electric air of dangerousness, pulsated with life around Riley. As hard as she tried, Sam couldn’t look Riley in the eye so she looked down. 

Riley pulled her gloves off and handed them over to Sam, “Here, take a shot.”

Sam swallowed hard, and unable to respond, simply shook her head.

“Come on, just a couple of punches. It’s amazingly liberating. Here, I’ll show you how.” She stepped closer and slipped the gloves over her hands, then moved around behind her. The slight brush of Riley’s breasts against Sam’s back, made the blonde quickly pull away.

“That’s okay. You’re…,” she wanted to say ‘braless,’ but thought that would just prove she had taken notice of Riley’s breasts, which she hadn’t, or at least that’s what she told herself, “you’re all sweaty.”

Riley pulled back, “Oh, yeah…sorry.”

Sam held up her gloved hands, “Maybe some other time?”

“Yeah, sure,” Riley removed the gloves and tossed them onto the nearby table. “So, what’s up?

Sam quite literally smacked her own forehead, “Oh yeah! I knew there was a reason I came over. You said today if I needed help to ask for it. Well…help?”

“Okay, I guess,” Riley headed into the kitchen and grabbed the orange juice from the fridge taking a healthy swallow. “What do you need help with?”

Sam climbed on the chair at the bar, finally able to focus with Riley across the room, “The 4^th of July picnic thing.” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing she needed help with.

“That’s next weekend.”

The blonde pushed some hair nervously behind her ear, “Yeah, and I haven’t done anything on it yet. Well, I mean the invitations are out and the ads are out, but the actual event…no. I need to go shopping. I need to do a LOT of shopping, which means I’ll have a lot of stuff to load into the van, unload from the van. Lots of carrying heavy things and you’re good with carrying things and…”

Riley waved her hands in the air and then crossed them into a T, “Whoa, Sam! Time out. I’ll help. Don’t worry, I’ll help. When do you want to do this shopping thing?”

Sam beamed at Riley, “Tomorrow?”

“As long as it’s not before 10am.”

**********

After a long, hot shower and a huge salad for dinner, Riley flopped down on the couch and flipped open her cell phone.

Two rings later, Al picked up, “Hey there, buddy!”

“Well, I’ll be damned! If it isn’t the devil child from Alabama! You left me in a helluva fix here, Riley. You know that, right?”

“And I owe you big time, Al!”

“Oh yes you do! Patti’s going to have my hide if you cause me to lose this job.” Riley laughed at the image of a five foot woman chasing the ex-football jock with a meat cleaver.

“She will do no such thing. She’s your wife and she loves you. Besides, she told me to torture you. She even paid me to do it.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Riley could hear the object of their discussion in the background thanking Riley for her hard work.

“Tell her, ‘you’re welcome.’” Al laughed half-heartedly at the two women’s antics at his expense.

“Alright, Jacobsen, what’s up there? Tell me the scoop.”

Riley gave him the run down on her first days at the camp and what she had learned so far. He said he’d pull some strings to see what he could get on the financial history of the church and if there was any record of Johnny boy being official caretaker of the family fortune. 

“And you said there’s a daughter involved too, right? What’s her name again…Samantha?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll do some checking on her too.”

“No, don’t.”

Al was surprised with the suddenness of Riley’s reaction, “And why not?”

“She’s not a part of this. I don’t think she’s like the rest of her family or even this town.” Riley played with the worn fringe of her jean shorts. In spite of what she was doing to get this job, she didn’t want Sam hurt or ran through the public wringer with some ad hoc investigation.

“Hmmmm, and you think this, why?”

“It’s a feeling, okay?”

She heard Al sigh deeply through the lines, “Don’t get yourself in over your head, Riley. She’s not worth it.”

“I’m not…really. I have no proof that she’s an integral part of this issue. I don’t want to hurt her or drag her through the mud.”

Al took on his best warning tone, “Riley, you know the minute she finds out about what you’ve been doing there…really doing there, she’s going to be pissed and she’s going to take it out on you. And she will find out. It’s inevitable. For once, please, listen to your head.”

There was a long pause of silence, “The other head, I mean.”

“Funny, Al.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. Look, don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”

Al let out a deep breath, “Well, if you do start to lose your infamous control, I’ll be there for you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, buddy. I know.” They talked for a few more minutes before Riley’s eyes got so heavy she could hardly concentrate. She hung up and literally, laid her head back on the sofa and fell asleep.