“You look stressed.”
That’s how it started. A simple observation was all it was.
“Might be I can help with that, that is if you want.”
She’d known what he meant, what he offered in the dim light of her hideout. Faraway from prying eyes, in the dead of night. She knew she ought not indulge but...
“You sure about that offer Dewitt?” She smirked to the man. “I ain’t the kind sort of woman, might be more than stress I take out on you.”
She’d thought it’d scare him off. To any self respecting white man the thought of what she implied would have em hollering. But not Dewitt, he just laughed that light chuckle of his. It sent a shiver down her spine. He was ever an enigma after all.
“I never much cared for the kind sort of women, Fitzroy.”
Dewitt was true to his word, as Daisy had always found him to be. Be that for good or ill. A few hours with him expelled the stress and frustrations from her being. And she was true to her own words, she was not kind.
She’d lashed out, forced him down and took everything he had to give and then some. To say she felt ashamed of herself was an understatement but as Dewitt rose up, his blood trailing down his back from her nails crawling him and his throat bruising from her grip, he clothed himself nonchalantly saying,
“Next time you need some help Fitzroy you know where to find me.”
It continued this way. No one thought much of it Dewitt was practically her right hand these days, even if he didn’t truly believe in her cause. Then again no one knew what they did behind closed doors.
Doors that only Daisy could open. Nothing happened unless she demanded it even if he was more than willing to continue. When she said they were done they were done. Simple as that.
This power Dewitt gave her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Since she was a girl she’d expected to always be the one forced down not the one doing the forcing. To say it was intoxicating paled in comparison to what Dewitt freely offered her. Daisy wanted more. Sometimes it scared her just how much pleasure she got from hurting him. From seeing just how far he’d let her go.
Daisy was no fool, she knew Dewitt could easily overpower her if he wanted to. But he never wanted to, he wanted this too. Something in his eyes told her that. Booker Dewitt wanted someone to punish him, that was to be sure. Thing was she’d never been able to find out for what.
“What is this brand Dewitt?” She’d asked once as the world slowly came back to her. “Can’t be for what the propaganda them Founders push out.” Her fingers traced the marred flesh that had long since healed. A.D., she’d always been curious could mean a lot of things.
“Nah. It’s nothing real impressive.” He replied easily enough, if it weren’t for how quick he pulled the hand out of hers. “Just a mistake I don’t ever wanna forget...” She’d always be left curious about the mark, for all the man gave her information was never one of ‘em.
“Could give you a new brand Dewitt.” She offered dangerously, looming over his bare form a knife formerly discarded secure in her hand. “What you think, a brand to show the world that the False Shepherd belongs to the Vox...”
“I think..” He hissed as she pressed the cool blade against his flesh. “It’d be a bad look for the Vox to scar its members.” It would have been so easy to ignore him, to push the knife deeper, so easy it scared her a little.
“Well I suppose your right there. The reward don’t beat the risk.” Daisy sighed casually tossing the knife away and rising to her feet. This scared her too the ease she felt with him, and yet he was utterly unreadable.
“Who do you pretend I am?” Daisy didn’t need to see him to know he had that damn dumb look on his face. “When we do this, who do you see punishing you?”
His answer was not one she’d expected. Then again Dewitt was never what she expected.
“No one in particular,” He sighed before wincing in pain as he moved. “Just got a lot to make up for. What about you?” He shot back. “Who do you picture? Can’t always be me.”
“Nah, you do right by the Vox most days.” She chuckled light as she pulled herself back together. “There’s lots though...too many to count really. Fink, the founders, loads of white bastards from down below, Comstock...he’s the easiest you know you sorta look like him.”
“Ow. I think that hurt worse than the belt I ain’t that old.” It confused her how normal he made all this feel.
“It’s your nose I think. They are mighty similar.” Sometimes she wonder if he’d had women do this to him before. She didn’t like that thought. Nor the feelings it brought.
It wasn’t as simple as jealousy. It was something far more primal. Possession. That feeling always roared its loudest whenever Dewitt brought up the Lamb.
“We had a deal Fitzroy.”
She’d force quicker.
“It’d be a blow to the founders you said it yourself.”
She’d strike harder.
“It’s two birds with one stone.”
She’d cut deeper.
“Quit wasting your men and time on Fink!”
She’d hate herself after.
The subject would be dropped, but that feeling would remain. That in more ways than one Daisy needed this man and she’d be damned if she’d let anyone else take him.
In the end it wasn’t the girl or the debt he had to square away that took Booker Dewitt but the fight. Her fight.
“Fitzroy... you win this fool war, you send this to New York. They ain't getting the girl. Whoever they are -- Maybe I did right by you and the Vox, but in the end... that don't square anything. Anna... Anna... I'm sorry...”
They found his mangled body and last words soon after it happened. Daisy and three of her most trusted men taking in what was left of their famed warrior.
“This is gonna crush moral if slate and Dewitt died then...”
“We gotta tell em somethin.”
She couldn’t move her eyes away. Daisy Fitzroy was frozen.
“What’ll we do?”
But it wasnt sorrow or fear that kept her frozen. No. It was anger.
“We tell em the truth that Booker Dewitt died for the Vox. That he was the founders false shepherd and the Vox’s Champion. That he fought tooth and nail for us to be free and we ought do the same.”
This was one more thing Dewitt gave her to use. Another thing she took and the founders would feel the wrath they left her with.
How dare they take another thing from.