Broken Doll {ManxMan}

CHAPTER 37

The sun was well in the sky when I stepped out of the barn, prompting me to lift an arm in order to shield my eyes, looking around but not seeing Diego or Klaus anywhere in the vicinity. Thinking they must have gone inside, I decided to just wander on my own for a bit more, shuffling my feet as I left the fenced in area around the barn, eyes panning around the settlement until I caught sight of a group of people at one of the larger buildings there.

It must have been the schoolhouse, or a warehouse of some sort, which the soldiers and regular citizens were repairing. Parts of the roof looked charred, even the walls had soot blackening them, left over from the Asper raid. The building itself looked fine, but it did make sense why they were fixing it up. There was no need to leave painful reminders of the people they lost, especially considering that the people who raided were there now, as allies.

There were both men and women up on the roof and on the ground, stripping off boards from the sides of the building and tearing away shingles from the roof, dropping it all into piles on the ground where more people were hauling it off to the side. Seeing as the base was located on an old plantation, it was no surprise that there was a massive field where they used to plant food, now being used to store piles of scrap wood.

Curious, yet still a bit nervous, despite what Beth had said about gaining the people's respect through the incident in the arena, I wandered over to the building, messing with the buttons on my sleeves and pausing when I was a few feet away, standing at one of the piles of useless wood. I kept opening and closing my mouth, wanting to speak, but my words kept catching in my throat before they could come out, before I could ask if they needed help.

Maybe I was being nitpicky, the fact I didn't want them to expect me to fight, that I didn't want to be respected because of violence, but I wanted them to see I was more than a gun, more than a knife, more than the brother of a psycho who trained the most feared assassin in the rebellion; and maybe the world.

Gratefully, before I could find my words, someone spoke from beside me, making me jump, "What are you doing out here?" it was Jasper who asked, and I turned my head to see he was carrying an armful of the rotted wood.

Even though it was still early, it appeared as if he'd been working hard for a while now. There were slight bags beneath his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose and sweat beaded across his forehead. Even the ponytail holding his hair back was loosening from the work, strands hanging about his face messily.

"Ah, I-I just wanted to look around, um," I pointed at the house, "What's going on here?"

Jasper looked over at the house, "Just some repairs I think," he explained, "They're taking old wood and tossing it so they can replace it with something new. Later tonight they're going to start a few bonfires down in the field, let the people relax and have some fun I guess."

"Oh," I nodded slowly, clearing my throat, "C-can I help?"

"You wanna?" Jasper asked, "Does mister overprotective even let you do hard work like this?"

I frowned a little at that, "He's not that bad," I argued, "and I'm capable of doing hard labor," I held my arms out, maybe a little too eagerly, and Jasper quirked an eyebrow, giving a low hum as he dropped the wood into my outstretched arms.

"Guess there's no harm," he said, crouching down to grab a few more pieces of wood from the pile I'd stopped in front of, "Don't trip on the way down to the field."

"I'm not inept at walking either," I offered, and he shrugged one shoulder when he stood back up and turned.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?"