Chapter 18: Maggie's Discovery
POV: Maggie
The horse beneath her was warm and solid, a connection to the world she'd known before everything went to hell. But the man sitting behind her, his arms carefully positioned around her waist for balance, was something entirely new.
Maggie had offered to take Jake on horseback to search for Sophia partly out of genuine desire to help, but mostly because she wanted an excuse to spend time with him. His ankle was still tender from his collapse after Carl's surgery, and riding would let him cover more ground without aggravating the injury.
But she hadn't anticipated how intimate the arrangement would feel.
Jake's arms encircled her loosely, his hands resting on the saddle horn to avoid any inappropriate contact. But every shift in the horse's gait pressed him closer, and Maggie could feel the warmth of his chest against her back, could smell the soap he'd used that morning mixed with something uniquely him.
"Glenn is sweet, but this one... there's something about him. Damaged but fighting. Like he knows too much and it's killing him."
She'd noticed it during their conversations on the porch—the way Jake's eyes sometimes went distant, as if he was seeing things that weren't there. The way he spoke about the future with the resignation of someone who'd already lived through it. There were depths to him that she wanted to explore, secrets that called to her curiosity like locked doors begging to be opened.
"You're tense," she said as they rode through a grove of oak trees. "Relax. Nellie's not going to throw you."
"It's not the horse I'm worried about," Jake replied, and there was something in his voice that made her look back over her shoulder.
His face was troubled, marked by the kind of worry that went deeper than concern for a missing child. This was existential dread, the look of someone carrying knowledge too heavy for one person to bear.
"What is it?" Maggie asked, bringing Nellie to a stop in a small clearing. "You've been different ever since we got to the farm. More... I don't know. Haunted."
Jake was quiet for so long that Maggie wondered if he'd heard her. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Sometimes I know things. Things I shouldn't know, things I can't explain. And sometimes those things are terrible."
The confession hung between them like a bridge neither was sure they should cross. Maggie turned in the saddle to face him more directly, studying his expression in the dappled sunlight.
"What kind of things?"
"The kind that could destroy people if they knew. The kind that would make you hate me if I told you."
There was such pain in his voice that Maggie's heart clenched with sympathy. Whatever secrets Jake was carrying, they were eating him alive from the inside.
"Try me," she said softly.
For a moment, hope flickered in Jake's eyes. Then it died, replaced by the familiar resignation she'd seen too often.
"I can't. Literally can't. Even when I want to, even when it would help someone, the words just... won't come."
Maggie reached out and took his hand, feeling the calluses that spoke of hard work and the faint tremor that suggested exhaustion. "Then don't tell me. Show me."
"It doesn't work that way."
"Then we'll figure out another way."
The promise was impulsive, born of instinct rather than logic. But seeing the gratitude that flooded Jake's features, Maggie knew it was the right thing to say. Whatever burden he was carrying, he didn't have to carry it alone.
They rode back to the farm in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. But when Jake helped her down from Nellie's back, his hands lingered on her waist for just a moment longer than necessary.
And when their eyes met, Maggie felt something shift between them—a recognition, a possibility, a door opening onto territory neither had planned to explore.
POV: Jake
Glenn returned from his supply run to town looking like he'd seen a ghost. His usual easy smile was nowhere to be found, replaced by the hollow-eyed expression of someone whose worldview had just been shattered.
Jake knew that look. He'd worn it himself in the mirror plenty of times.
"We need to talk," Glenn said quietly, pulling Jake aside as the group unloaded supplies from the Cherokee. "Privately."
They walked to the edge of the property, far enough from the farmhouse that their conversation wouldn't be overheard. Glenn's hands were shaking as he lit a cigarette—a habit Jake didn't remember from the show, but stress did strange things to people.
"The barn," Glenn said without preamble. "It's full of walkers."
The words hit Jake like a physical blow, not because they were surprising but because they meant his ordeal of enforced silence might finally be ending. Someone else knew the truth now, someone who could speak the words that Jake's cosmic gag order prevented him from voicing.
"Yes," Jake said, the relief in his voice so profound it was almost a sob. "I've known since we got here."
Glenn stared at him in disbelief. "Why didn't you say something?!"
Jake tried to explain about the speech block, about his inability to warn people when it mattered most. But the words came out jumbled, inadequate, making him sound like someone making excuses rather than someone trapped by supernatural censorship.
"I... physically couldn't. It's complicated."
"Complicated how?" Glenn's voice rose slightly before he caught himself and lowered it again. "People have a right to know there are walkers fifty feet from where they're sleeping!"
The accusation stung because it was fair. From Glenn's perspective, Jake had been sitting on vital information that could affect everyone's safety. The fact that he'd been prevented from sharing it by cosmic forces beyond his control didn't change the practical consequences of his silence.
"I know," Jake said miserably. "I've been trying to find a way to tell people without... without breaking certain rules I'm bound by."
Glenn studied his face, seeing the genuine distress there. Slowly, his anger faded into confusion and concern.
"Rules? What kind of rules?"
Jake gestured helplessly. "The kind I can't talk about. Look, I know how this sounds, but there are things I'm not allowed to say, warnings I'm not allowed to give. It's like... like being cursed."
The word hung between them, strange and archaic in a world of walkers and assault rifles. But Glenn had seen enough impossible things to take the claim seriously.
"You really can't tell them?"
"Not directly. I've been hoping someone else would discover it, someone who could speak freely about what they'd found."
Understanding dawned in Glenn's eyes. "That's why you looked so relieved when I told you. You've been waiting for this."
Jake nodded. "Don't tell them yet. Please. Let me figure out how to handle this, how to minimize the damage when it comes out."
Glenn was reluctant, but he agreed to keep the secret for one more day. It was a small mercy, but Jake was grateful for any reprieve he could get.
That night, alone in the darkness behind the farmhouse, Jake tried once more to break through his limitations. He spoke to the empty air, to the stars, to whatever cosmic force was monitoring his words.
"Sophia is in the barn."
The speech block clamped down immediately, seizing his throat and sending lightning bolts of pain through his skull. Jake tried again, forcing each word separately.
"Sophia... is... in..."
His hand cramped so violently that he cried out, fingers curling into claws that refused to obey his commands. The backlash was getting stronger, more punitive, as if the entity that had cursed him was growing tired of his attempts at circumvention.
Jake punched the nearest tree, his knuckles splitting against the bark. Blood welled from the cuts, dark in the moonlight, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental anguish of being unable to help.
"Jake?"
Maggie's voice came from behind him, soft with concern. She'd approached silently, probably drawn by the sound of his distress.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, seeing the blood on his hands, the tears streaming down his face. "What's happening?"
Jake looked at her through the haze of his failure, this woman who'd somehow become important to him in the space of a few conversations. He wanted to tell her everything—about his transmigration, his powers, his knowledge of what was coming. He wanted to warn her about the barn, about Shane, about all the tragedies that were rushing toward them like an avalanche.
Instead, all he could manage was the truth she was already beginning to suspect.
"I know things," he whispered, his voice breaking on the words. "Terrible things. And I'm physically unable to tell anyone."
Maggie stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch his bleeding knuckles. "Then we'll find another way."
The promise was simple, inadequate, probably impossible to fulfill. But in that moment, sitting in the darkness with blood on his hands and failure in his heart, it was the most beautiful thing Jake had ever heard.
Maybe he couldn't save everyone. Maybe his knowledge would always be trapped behind walls he couldn't break down. But he wasn't alone anymore.
And sometimes, that was enough to keep fighting.
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