The Cabin on The Blue

"I made sandwiches," she announced, spreading out the blanket with a saucy grin. "Would've been here sooner, but I got caught up, ummm...well, talking to the animals." Rachel looked away, embarrassed. "On the plus side, the laundry's all hung and I started dinner," she finished brightly.

"You are adorable," John said, chuckling. He inspected the sandwich as he opened the gingham cloth she had wrapped it in: roasted chicken breast, with sprouts, kale, sweet peppers, and a new batch of homemade mustard. "I love your sandwiches," John declared, leaning over to kiss her as he sat down, "and I don't mind waiting. Do I get to know what we're having for dinner, or is it a secret again?"

She crossed her arms, looking at him through narrowed eyes, then sighed. "You made really good ham," Rachel told him. "I took a few chunks. I've been thinking of doing stew. Okay?"

John nodded, satisfied with the information. Rachel had confessed that for some reason, she got self-conscious about cooking for him - even though she had insisted on taking the task on for lunch, and then dinner as well. Curious, he had asked what she was afraid of; everything she made was delicious, and it was clear that she enjoyed the work as well. With a small amount of cajoling, she had told him: her concern was that she would give him a 'menu plan, as she called it, and then something would go wrong and she would have to improvise with a modified, or heaven forbid, an entirely different dish, and she didn't want to disappoint him. 'Before, I could always just pop out to the grocery or the farmer's market for things, or even a backup, in a pinch. Of course, complicated recipes are laughable now, even with a pantry like yours. I like improvising, but I do feel a certain...pressure,' she had told him.

Their compromise was that Rachel would give him either a main ingredient or the type of dish - or both if she was feeling generous, as she apparently was today. He smiled into his sandwich. John was sure that starting off the morning with an orgasm had something to do with that. He knew that he felt measurably improved since they had started 'breaking the rules'.

"Do you like cheese?" John asked suddenly.

"Uh, yes," Rachel replied, giggling. "That was random."

"Not really," he said. "You remember I told you about the sheep I wanted to round up? I want to do it now, before it gets any colder." Typically, ranchers in the area reported a higher rate of predator attacks during the winter, when the animals were hungry and desperate enough to approach human areas. John wondered how much bolder they might be now, without the usual human presence in the region. He had certainly noticed more activity than usual. Four-legged predators wouldn't be able to cross the moat, and he'd never seen any willing to swim across the Blue either. There was plenty of pasture on his little 'island', and the animals would be safe from wolves, mountain lions and the like.

In addition to rounding up livestock, John wanted to check on a few of his caches. He had a general system, keeping some essentials in each location - food, water, medical supplies - as well as a few small treats, random items that could be used for trading. However, he didn't bother to keep complete lists, so he wasn't entirely certain of which nonessentials were available at each location. Before now, it hadn't much mattered to him whether a site held chocolate candy or caramel popcorn or white wine or beer; he knew he would find water, flint and steel - in the form of a sharp knife- a first aid kit, and some sort of preserved foodstuffs.

Each stash of goods was small but complete - enough to satisfy robbers that he wasn't hiding anything more, but not so much that he would lose a measurable percentage. That was something that John had learned long before the end of 'civilization'.

The closest abandoned farm held two of his caches as well as a pasture of sheep and other animals. An offshoot from the river fed the land and the well. There was also an apple orchard, and his cellar could use restocking. And now, the place still held fond memories. He had spent weeks of his childhood summers here, running around with his cousins. His extended family had owned so much land in the area.

"Sheep's milk? And cheese?" Rachel asked, enthralled. "The last time I had cheese before I got here, it was sprayed out of a can... and I was still excited about it."

"Probably not until spring, but that's the hope." He looked her over from his spot on the blanket, and Rachel felt herself shiver. "I think you're ready to handle this place by yourself for a day or so."

"Wait - you mean now? You're going to go and round them up now?" Rachel gaped at him.

"It needs doing before winter," John said. He took a stick of carrot from the plastic bowl of cut up vegetables that Rachel had prepared. "It'll be fine," he continued. Rachel's face had gone pale. "A lot of my neighbors didn't have phones, so we used walkie-talkies. It's hilly, but we'll be able to talk for most of the way. I'll make sure a get a pair of them charged up tonight."

"How do you know it's safe? There are dangerous people out there," Rachel said. "It's brutal, and it's rough, and people are desperate. I know you've been holed up here for a long time, but you must know that."

"I'm one of them, you know," John looked her in the eye. "I killed that man, and you haven't said anything about it. I know you remember that. But you're not afraid of me."

Rachel stared at him, confusion spreading across her pretty features. "Oh!" She exclaimed, shaking her head. "John, I'm- I'm not worried about me. Those men are maybe still out there. And there are others." She clenched her jaw, and a dark shadow crossed her face. "People are even worse than they were, John. I'll be safe on the island, but you'll be out there. And if you're really pinned down, I don't know that I could get there fast enough to provide backup."

John sat up, tilting his head to look at her in puzzlement. "You're....worried about...me?" He asked.

"Of course I am," Rachel replied, exasperated. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "Look - I haven't had anyone to worry about me in a long time. It's nice."

She traced the lines of the lunch sack, a faint, sad smile visible from her profile. "Sometimes," she said, and her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her over the rushing water. "But sometimes it's just one more person to mourn."

The next morning, John woke earlier than usual - despite not setting an alarm, Rachel noticed, cracking her eyes open as he snuggled into her. He was raring to go, as usual, and this time Rachel rolled over to face him before he could make his way into her clothing. She pressed her face to his chest, soaking up his warmth.

"Good morning," he said. John spoke quietly, but his voice rumbled through his chest.

"I don't want you to leave," Rachel mumbled.

John paused, wrapping an arm around her to pull her in closer. "Before you got here I used to leave all the time," he replied. "Besides, this is very important for our bones. Calcium and all that, you know?"

"My bones are fine," Rachel scoffed, playfully smacking his ass, and his cock jumped against her stomach in response.

"Mmm!" John said, surprised.

"Really...." Intrigued, Rachel gave his ass a hard squeeze. "Why have I not grabbed this thing before?" It was a very nice ass, she thought, pressing her fingertips into the firm muscle.

"Hey," John protested gently. He slid one hand between her and the bed and quickly shoved both hands down into the back of her pants. John cupped her rounded ass in his hands, jiggling and squeezing. Rachel gasped with arousal, and he paused. "Does that feel good?" She nodded silently into his chest, and he resumed. Then he moved her upper leg, guiding her knee to rest on his hip.

"What are you- Ooooh...."

John was working two of his long, skilled fingers into her from behind, something she had never experienced before but was abruptly very interested in. Rachel moaned, writhing up against him with his cock still firmly nestled between them. His grip on her thigh tightened, and John held her closer against him as he stroked her hot, responsive core. She whimpered into his chest as she wriggled around, humping against his over-excited cock. She cried out, trembling, and dug her fingernails into his chest and side. When Rachel whispered "oh fuck, Johnnnnn" and pressed her body against his front in one slow, prolonged, climax-fueled grinding motion, John groaned, erupting into the non-existent space between their bodies. Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck, still riding his fingers and moaning a little.

"Oh, wow," she breathed, settling, and he carefully withdrew his fingers. She sighed in pleasure, and John was so irritated that he couldn't even enjoy it.

John clenched his jaw, sitting up. "Well, on the time efficiency side, we won't need to worry about getting me off. Although I am going to need a shower."

"Oh my god, that was so sexy," Rachel cooed, rolling onto her back with her eyes closed. "When you came on my stomach, I swear I had another orgasm."

John's brow furrowed, a blend of confusion and interest. He had expected a different reaction from her.

"If you come back safe and sound...I'll have something better for you," she smiled, her amber eyes glowing with pleasure. She licked her lips.

"What if I come back, but I'm hurt? I might need some of... whatever you're talking about. To, you know, heal me. Give me a reason to live, all that," John shot her a devilish grin over his shoulder. "Maybe you should give me a sample now?"

"No," Rachel said before swatting him with a pillow. "You'll have to wait."

Rachel made breakfast while John showered, then gathered the few things he intended to pack. He had decided to take Lillian, the mare, John informed her, devouring the biscuits and huge omelet she had made. Three eggs, and lots of meat and vegetables. She sat back in her chair, a slight smile on her face. She didn't have much appetite this morning, but she was happy to see John enjoying her cooking. Rachel toyed with another forkful of omelet before forcing herself to eat it.

"Not hungry?" He asked, eyeing her plate.

She shook her head, pushing it over to him.

"If you're sure..." John raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's all yours. Eat up," she replied.

She cleared the table as soon as John was finished, then busied herself with packing a food bag for him when he went outside to saddle up his horse - bread, smoked venison jerky, dried fruit and nuts, and several canteens of water. Lastly, she added a sealed plastic container of cooked, seasoned vegetables, still hot, since she had cooked them along with breakfast.

Much too soon, John was ready to leave. Rachel lowered the bridge, and he gave her a very thorough kiss before mounting his horse.

"I'll call when I get there. I might make a stop on two on the way. No more than three hours," he said, cocking his black Stetson at her. Normally, she would have thought the classic cowboy hat was sexy, but she was too worried to appreciate it. She was also surprised and irritated with herself for feeling so strongly about the entire situation.

Falling in love is stupid, and mistaking lust for love is even worse.

"Three hours," she repeated, nodding. "Good luck," Rachel added. She turned back to the house and its surrounding structures right away. The chickens were already making a fuss about the delay in getting their morning feed. Rachel kept herself occupied, which wasn't difficult. Between caring for the animals, the vegetable garden, doing laundry and cooking, she had to plenty to do.

When John called, Rachel was experimenting with recreating a corn bread recipe, and hadn't noticed how late it had gotten. He gave Rachel a quick update, reassuring her that he had made it to the farm without incident.

"Most of the herd is still here, in the general area, at least. I'm going to quick patch the fence and round up the nearby ones for the night. The horse is still here too, so I'll bring him back with us. We'll start heading back at dawn. How are things at home? Over."

Rachel smiled despite herself. "All's well here...at home. I'm planning on making something special for you when you get back, so make sure to keep me posted on your progress. Oh. Over."

"I'd be very grateful. I know I wanted food that would travel well, but it's not at good as a hot meal... Will you tell me? Over."

"No." She paused. "But only because I need to look around and see what available. I don't know yet. Over."

"I suppose that's fair. I think I'm going to camp out in the pasture - there's a permanent shepherd's lean-to out here. Over."

"Oh...is there something wrong with the house?"

"...No, it's in great condition." He decided not to mention that he'd replaced the door and made a few other minor repairs to the place after he had returned from the battlefield. "I like sleeping outside, but I- well, it won't be the same, without you, Rachel. Over."

"I bet it won't. Over."

John laughed over the com. "That's not what I meant...but yeah, that too. Over."

Salsa, Rachel decided, inspired. She began gathering tomatoes, peppers, herbs and the other ingredients while bantering with John. Fresh salsa tasted best when it had had a good while to sit, at least overnight, and it would take her hours to finish preparing all the ingredients. It would be a lot of cutting, as the cabin wasn't equipped with food processors. They chatted for a while longer, and John assured her that he would call when he turned in for the night, which he hoped would be around sunset. That was still several hours off, Rachel thought, trying to decide how to best spend her afternoon. John hadn't checked the traps in over a day; the fishing traps would likely be fine but any small game caught in the wood would be taken by scavengers.

She rode John's gelding, Basil, out to the woods. He was a good tempered horse, although he was also quite protective - which was why John had left him. Clark would be essential to rounding up the sheep, so the collie had gone with John. Most of the traps and snares were empty, but there was a medium sized rabbit. Rachel smiled. Most of the meat they ate was smoked or otherwise cured, especially larger game - John's 'island' had a small but well outfitted smokehouse, with a larger one located further out in the woods - and fresh meat was something that John had a strong preference for. She also retrieved a fat bream from one of the river traps. Rachel was delighted; she would have ample ingredients to choose from and there would be enough for leftovers - something Rachel was fond of. A working refrigerator with cooked food? Pretty much the definition of heaven these days.

Rachel polished off the last of the roasted chicken for an early dinner, then added the carcass to a pot of water to begin the process of making stock before heading out to feed and water the animals for the night. John checked in as scheduled, and yet she was awake before dawn, semi anxiously waiting to hear that John was on his way. She forced herself to shower, dress, and start the day. It was after seven o'clock by the time he called, and Rachel had been close to pacing the living room floor by that point.

"Rachel? Over." John's voice was soft.

"I'm here. Is everything alright? Over."

There was a long pause before he responded. "We had a run-in with a pack of wolves last night. I had to shoot a few of them. Clark and I are alright, but we lost some sheep. There are a little over a dozen left. And the other horse got a scratch, but I think he'll be okay. I cleaned up the wound and all. Over."

"Damn it." Rachel rubbed her hand over her face. "I'm glad you're okay. Over."

"Anyway, that's why the late call. We'll be heading out soon though. Over."

She wrinkled her brow; something about John sounded off. "Alright...Hurry up and get back safe. Over."

"Yes, ma'am. Out."

Rachel rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had been so worried about humans that she had forgotten all about the natural dangers. And...she had a feeling that John wasn't being entirely honest. By the time Rachel lowered the bridge for John and his menagerie it was late afternoon and she was practically beside herself. It had gotten hot in the cabin. She had been running around the place all day, and the knee-length cotton dress and cowboy boots had been more than comfortable; she was not dressed properly for outdoors, she realized as the wind nipped across her legs. She didn't care though. Her jacket would keep her warm enough, and she needed to see John. She waited impatiently for him to get the flock into the enclosed pasture and cool the horses, then joined him, greeting the thirsty equines with buckets of water.

She had carried a smaller bucket of water for Clark on her arm. Something was off about John, she noticed, although she couldn't put her finger on it. Once the horses were settled, Rachel threw her arms around his neck; although he was swift to return her embrace, she noticed his wince right away.

"What's wrong with you?"

He was reluctant, but John carefully opened his jacket and pulled up his clothing, revealing a sizeable bandage across his midsection. The gauze wasn't soaked through, but it was dotted with red blossoms. "I might need stitches," he admitted, his face creased with pain as he pulled his clothing back into place.

"Goddamn it, John! What the fuck?!" Rachel swore vehemently, picking up the sack of produce that John had left on the ground. "You- never mind. Let's go," she said curtly, turning on her heel. Once inside, she got him situated on the couch before fetching the first aid kit from the bathroom.

"Have you done this before?" John asked, watching her prep the supplies. Absently, he noticed that something was cooking - and it smelled heavenly.

Rachel flicked her eyes at him briefly before setting her jaw, annoyed. She bent her head, slowly removing his bandage to get a look at his wounds. He had been raked with claws; the telltale pattern of deep parallel cuts was quite apparent. But it looked like he had managed to avoid the animals teeth, and he had kept it clean. She kept pressure on the wound for several minutes, eyeing the minute hand on the wall clock.

"They've grown bold all of a sudden," he said, brushing his hair back from his face. "The wolves have never dared to come so far into human areas this early in the season before. They know the people are gone now. Domesticated sheep have to be easier prey than- than deer..." John trailed off, as Rachel was still stone-faced and almost assuredly ignoring him.

"It doesn't look like you need stitches," she said finally, covering the area with a fresh bandage, "but you are going to need to take it easy for a few days to let it knit up properly. Do you think you can manage to do a bit more laying around?" She doled out the medicines he'd instructed her to pull, though she had insisted that he take something stronger than ibuprofen for the pain.

"Of course." John paused. "Why are you angry, exactly?" He took a drink of water, watching her with those intense blue eyes of his.

"Are you serious?" Rachel glared at him from the other side of the couch. "You told me you were fine, and I believed you." She scoffed, shaking her head. "You lied to me. For nothing."

"I wasn't going to come back without finishing what I had set out to do, and I didn't want you to worry."

"I am not a child who needs to be coddled. I wouldn't have survived this long if I-" Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him evenly. "You should have told me, John. If I had been informed, I would have been prepared. I could have helped a lot more than just helping to groom the horses."