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They call them trinity (chapter 4)

She is awaken by a particularly rough jolt.
"Hey." She hears.
Her head is pounding and her hands are tied behind her back. She is sitting on a hard, moving surface. She blinks repeatedly, until her eyes finally focus on a worried face framed by blonde, short hair.
"Han." Grace can taste the blood in her own mouth as she calls her name.
"Hey, it's okay, it's all good." Hannah is sitting in front of her, and for some reason she thinks she needs to reassure her. Grace smiles weakly, her head dropping forward, still heavy after the hit. "Grace! Stay with me, babe."
"Babe?" She scoffs.
"Mh, sorry" Hannah giggles, "Glad you're okay."
Grace moans and rolls her head. There's a sharp pain in her neck, where she was hit. They are tied inside the caravan, and they are being transported somewhere.
"The horses?" she asks.
Hannah looks down "Cheddar is there, at the front, hauling the caravan. But Ty..."
Grace's eyes widen, angry: "Ty what?"
"She ran away. They tried to mount her and she... she's fierce, man! Beanz is also gone." She says trying to hold back tears.
The are interrupted by a throaty voice "You woke up, finally! I didn't think I hit you that hard. You know, I am against hitting women, but you're too dangerous, Scar."
Hannah turns towards Grace, upset, because why does he need to call her that? Not cool.
She nearly says something but Grace shakes her head, warning her it's not a good idea. Hannah's hands are tied at her front and she can move more easily, so she slides closer to Grace and sits by her side.
"How's your head?"
"I've had worse." Grace answers dryly. Her eyes are moving fast, trying to get a hint on where they're headed. "We're going back." She says once she makes out the position of the sun and the time of day.
"You know" Hannah says "I think you might be bad luck. I mean, look at me."
Grace raises an eyebrow.
"Since I met you I've been accused of murder, nearly killed twice, and now I'm tied up in my own caravan by a gang of bandits. And more importantly, I lost my dog."
Grace just looks at her with a defiant look.
Hannah sustains her look.
"Okay." Grace admits, and wrinkles her nose, smiling.
The caravan jolts again, running over a branch, and some voices start cheering outside. They stop after few minutes, and two men come and lift them, forcing them to walk out.
"This is..." Hannah whispers, incredulous.
"Yeah, we're back here." Grace confirms, looking around. The gang took them back to the burnt settlement where they stopped the day before, in the very same stable. They are shoved in a corner, while Cheddar is left harnessed to the caravan.
"They should let him roam around." Hannah complains "That's unfair."
There's a growling noise, and Grace looks around, hopeful. "Beanz?" She asks, uncertain.
"I think that's my stomach." Hannah mutters.
Grace looks around and calls: "Hey, dude." A guy with only one tooth in his mouth walks towards them. "We're starving. Can we have some food?" The guy smiles, sideways, and kicks her on the face, without a word. She groans and says "Worth trying." - then smiles towards Hannah, who just stares at her in shock.
A booming voice makes the air vibrate: "What's up, hookers?"
A woman stumbles into the stable, holding a bottle that Hannah recognises as hers. Her hair is long and messy, she is wearing bright pink makeup that matches the tip of her hair, and she definitely sounds drunk. She flips her hair pointing gun fingers at Hannah: "Hey, cutie." She then turns towards Grace, and makes a sad face. "And you, Scar... what should I do with you?"
The woman pulls a ripped journal from her corset. She's wearing a corset! Hannah thinks.
"So, you are... Ms. Hart, correct?"
Hannah swallows and nods.
"Cool. Great. Fine. Awesome" The woman seems confused, but maybe she is just really drunk. "So..." She takes a few seconds to collect her thoughts, which looks like something extremely complex. "So. Here's your half, thank you very much. Where's the other half?"
"I have no idea." Hannah mutters, angrily.
"Of course. Right." She clears her throat. "Helbig."
"Jenna." Grace replies, calmly.
Hannah looks at her, incredulous. She knows her?
"So?" The drunk woman asks impatiently, hands on her hips, and taps her foot on the ground.
"Why don't you cut these ropes off and I'll show you?" Grace says.
"Don't fucking play with me, Helbig. I trusted you once, and that was obviously a sucky, sucky choice." She giggles pointlessly, as if she could't hold it in. "Give me my stuff so I can get rid of you."
"So I'm late, c'mon. There is no reason to hit me in the neck and tie me up."
Jenna's eyes suddenly turn angry. She bends down and grabs a patch of Grace's hair, pulling her face up, and shouts against her mouth. "No reason? No fucking reason?" Grace turns her head to avoid the stench of alcohol coming from the woman's mouth, but she is roughly pulled back. "I have been looking for your ass every-fucking-where. I sent men to Mametown, to Oakland, to San Francisco. I found two of them legs up two hours from here, and that had 'Helbig' written all over it. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
She pushes Grace's head away, and stands back up.
"Look, I'm giving you a second chance, 'cause I'm nice like that. Am I nice or not, guys?" Jenna turns towards the men standing in silence behind her, who nod slowly. "I am going to give you some time to think about it. You know the drill."
She does a half twirl and something that resembles a dance move, and leaves, slurring "Get these suckers some food. Not too much."
As soon as she leaves, Hannah looks at Grace with inquisitive eyes.
"Grace" she asks "What's going on? I am com-"
"Han, listen." Grace cuts her off, and leans closer to not be heard "I know you have no idea where the other half is, but you have to pretend you do. Is that clear?"
Hannah swallows, and looks at the woman tied besides her: her eyes betray some sort of pain that Grace can't grasp.
"Grace... fuck, I was just starting to trust you." Hannah says quietly, shaking her head.
"Han..."
"I thought you were helping me, but you just want that fucking piece of paper, don't you? And now you're selling me up to them. I get it now." Hannah's voice is shaky. Grace looks away, and clenches her teeth.
Hannah feels like her head is about to explode. Grace Helbig. Her life started to crumble the moment she set foot in Mamrie's saloon, all toothpick and legs. The knot in her throat finds a way out, and she starts sobbing.
"You fucking ruined my life, Helbig." Hannah whispers, tears slowly running down her cheeks. There's not even accusation in her tone, just sadness and disappointment.
Grace rolls her eyes, and says frostily: "Think whatever you want, just do as I told you if you care for your life."
But Hannah moves away, and her baby-pout softens Grace a little. She is about to apologise when the single-toothed man comes back with two small bowls, unceremoniously dropping them on the ground, splashing a few drops of clear liquid on the women's trousers. He then leaves without a word.
Hannah grabs her own, silently, and takes a mouthful of what seems to be a very weak soup. The liquid hits her stomach and spreads a pleasant warmth, despite the taste is closer to mud than actual food. She is halfway through her portion when she notices that Grace isn't moving, and Hannah looks down at her own bowl, suddenly worried.
"Wait, is this poisoned or something?" Hannah asks, scared.
"No, dumb-dumb." Grace turns slightly to show her hands tied to her back.
"Oh."
Hannah hesitates, she is still damn hurt. She shakes her head and keeps chewing a fatty bit of meat, staring into her bowl. Grace leans her head on the wall, looking at the ceiling, thinking. Thinking that she got herself in a pretty stupid dead-end. All because she didn't have the guts to follow orders. But then again, she's never been very good at doing that. It's not the first time she's had to drag herself out of a hairy situation, she'll find a way again. Although Jenna is a dangerous motherfucker. She has an easy finger on that trigger, and Grace needs to find a good reason to be kept alive once that bloody journal is finally pieced together. And she can't believe that she puts herself in the deadliest snake pit she's ever seen, and all for...
Her train of thought is interrupted by a throaty sound, and two blue eyes shining under a deep frown.
"C'mon." Hannah mutters.
She is holding the other bowl close to Grace's chin, obviously planning to feed her. Grace wants to say that hell no, but she is starving and she definitely needs as much energy as possible to face what's coming. Her eyes move quickly from Hannah to the bowl and away and back to the bowl, until she just mutters "Thank you" and clumsily reaches for the rim with her lips.
Hannah guides the bowl gently, and Grace takes a gulp of the lukewarm liquid. A drop falls on the side of her mouth, and Hannah quickly pulls the bowl away and wipes it with her elbow.
"You'll make a great mom." Grace comments, smiling.
"I don't think that's happening." Hannah replies bitterly.
"We are not going to die, Han." Grace says before taking another sip.
"Even so, genius."
Grace blows some air from her nostrils and bites her lip. "I'm saying all the wrong things, aren't I?" She asks, and Hannah shrugs, she is not going to think about that now.
"Han." Grace's tone is somehow warm, and sounds unfamiliar, but at the same time it makes Hannah think what she has to say is important. So she listens, giving her a nod.
"It's true, I came to Mametown to get the journal. I was supposed to kill Jake Woodman and Hannah Hart, and get their two halves. I'm sorry."
Hannah rubs her eye with the back of her hand, forgetting her wrists are tied together, so she accidentally hits her own forehead with the bowl. Grace smiles a little.
"But I didn't, okay?" Grace continues "I didn't kill you. So at least give me that."
That was... true. And thinking of it, not only did she not kill her - Hannah realises - but she's also saved her life at least twice. Maybe three times. It would have been easy to just leave her in jail and let her be hanged. So of course part of Hannah wants to apologise and hug, but there is another part that is wondering why her life had been spared. What does this long-legged, scarred-cheek woman want from her, really? But before she can vocalise her doubts, Jenna is back, hands on her hips, and Hannah can't tell if she is more or less drunk than before.
"Okay, time's up. Helbig?"
Grace gives Hannah an eloquent look, and then says "Sorry, Jen, don't remember. Must have hit my head."
The blonde woman blows some air out her nose, impatiently.
"How about you, Little Miss Dapper?"
Hannah shakes her head, lips clasped together. Jenna turns and mutters something like for christ sake and calls "Fang, get me the thingy!"
Fang, the single-toothed guy, walks in with a bucket. Grace has just enough time to nod towards Hannah once, before Jenna stands in front of her, holding a long iron rod she grabbed from the bucket.
"Last chance, Scarface." She encourages, but Grace shrugs and pulls an overly-apologetic face.
"You're lucky I don't really get any pleasure from torturing people, so I'll keep this as straightforward as possible. Okay? Let's go. Guys."
One of the men cuts the buttons off of Grace's shirt and pulls it down her arms, leaving her covered only by the strip of fabric she uses to bind her chest. Hannah forgets to breath for a moment: Grace's torso and arms look like a battlefield. There's a small crater in her shoulder, where a bullet must have hit her. Little triangular shapes decorate the skin around the binder, probably a cattle brand marked with a hot-iron. On her stomach are long horizontal cuts that have healed to form a neat pattern.
This is not Grace's first time, Hannah realises.
Jenna must have the same thought, because she says "Oh you're going to be a tough one, aren't you? Better get going." She touches Grace's shoulder with the hot iron, leaving it in place for few seconds. Grace clenches her teeth, but not a sound comes out of her throat.
"Grace!" Hannah shouts, before she can hold herself.
"No?" Jenna asks with a pout. She rests the hot iron on Grace's other shoulder, and cheerfully says: "I appoint you knight of the order of my fat ass."
Grace takes it and rolls her eyes. It's going to be a long day.
- - -
Jenna lost it, Hannah decides. She had started with short, measured touches of the hot-iron, to which Grace barely reacted. She left a dotted trail on her chest and small marks on her shoulders. Then she moved on to her knife and stroked it against Grace's cheek, right below her scar. The shallow cut poured plenty of blood down Grace's face, and made the wound look a lot worse than it actually was - so much that Hannah couldn't hold her tears anymore and started sobbing. Grace didn't even flinch. Jenna thought she did enough to the woman's face, and moved on to her arms, leaving diagonal cuts, each accompanied by the same question: "Where is my fucking journal?"
But now, she is just kicking. She is not even asking anymore, she is just releasing pure fury on Grace's body, and Hannah has to look away. Grace groans with every blow, lying on her side. She hasn't said a word. Jenna kicks, and kicks, until it's not even fun anymore, and she just gives up, hair dishevelled, and slightly embarrassed at her own loss of control.
"Fuck you, scar. Fuck. You." She shouts, pointing her fingers at her.
Once she feels like no more kicks are coming, Grace spits a mouthful of blood on the floor, and rolls slightly. Two men grab her by the shoulders and put her back to her original position, sitting close to Hannah.
"Grace... Grace, are you okay?" Hannah asks, scooting closer as much as being tied up allows her.
Grace just looks at her and rolls her eyes, and isn't that a dumb question.
"I'm going to let you ponder over our conversation." Jenna says. "And you, cutie. Tomorrow is your turn."
They're left in a corner in the stable. Grace rolls her tongue inside her mouth and comments: "All there."
"What?" Hannah asks, confused.
"My teeth. All still there." Her tone is plain.
"Grace, why are you doing this? Just give her the damn thing, how can it be worth this?"
"Kid, you're so dumb... how are you so dumb? Seriously."
Hannah isn't getting it, so Grace explains: "As soon as I tell her, we're dead. Gone. Bye. Ciao. Got it?"
Hannah freezes at the sudden realisation. She had thought that if Jenna had what she wanted, she would just let them go. But why would she? To let them go back and tell the rangers where her gang hides? She leans back, eyes staring in front of her, dead.
"Han, hey. Look at me."
Hannah does so, but she regrets it straight away. Grace's face is covered in blood, her body scattered with burns that are starting to turn into blisters.
"She has no method." Grace says "She hits too strong and too short. We're lucky."
"Lucky?" Hannah scoffs "How are we lucky?"
"Trust me, kid. This is nothing."
Hannah shivers at the thought of what Grace must have been through. There is something she doesn't understand though, something doesn't add up.
"Grace?" She asks.
"Mh?"
"Grace, why didn't you kill me?"
"Oh..." Grace says, rolling her eyes.
"I'm serious. It doesn't make sense. If you wanted the journal you should have killed Woodman and me and just... ran away."
"Han, I have no idea what that journal is, okay?" Grace says, shiftily, and shrugs.
"Then why..."
Hannah barely has time to register the information, because Grace's body is overcome by an unbearable weakness and she leans slightly, resting against Hannah's shoulder.
"Hey! Are you - "
"I'm fine. Just... tired."
They sit in silence, and Grace feels like she might drift off.
"Thank you." Hannah says, finally "For not killing me."
"Anytime, kid." Grace smiles slightly.
"You know" Hannah's voice brings Grace back from her half-asleep state "you should stop calling me 'kid' after what happened the other night. It's just creepy."
Grace would probably scoff and flip her off if she had a bit more strength, but she just sighs and nods, and Hannah thinks she can see sadness clouding her eyes. And it's the first emotion that transpires from her today. Hannah leans her head against Grace's, kissing her hair instinctively, and registers that the woman doesn't react. She barely seems to notice, probably about to fall asleep.
"Grace." Hannah calls again.
"Mh."
"I'm happy it was with you."
"Han... shut the hell up."
Hannah smiles, because Grace's tone isn't upset, just very, very embarrassed - which is something she thought she'd never get to see.
"But you know what's weird?" Hannah continues, enjoying Grace's discomfort.
"I don't give a - "
"I haven't even kissed you yet."
Grace can feel something in her chest, like a beat slightly louder than it should be.
"Kisses are for pretty girls." She replies bitterly.
"Yes, they are."
"If I could, I'd punch your face. But I think I have a broken rib, so... next time."
Hannah smiles, and for a moment forgets that she is about to be tortured and possibly killed by a completely crazy-ass woman. She feels Grace's body getting heavier and realises the woman has lost consciousness. She sits, holding her weight, for what feels like an eternity.
The night is quiet and damp. Grace's head is heavy on Hannah's shoulders, her breath barely discernible, so much that Hannah checks from time to time by holding a finger under her nose. She can't sleep. She might be dead tomorrow, and the feeling isn't even new anymore. When she was locked up in Mametown, she felt the same despair. But there, she had Sarah and Mamrie, they would fight for her, they would at least try. But here, she's alone. It's only her and a criminal who for some reason took it upon herself to get as beaten up as possible before getting killed. And right now, she's all Hannah has.