Heaven, I Know My Place

The way that Jake talks about his patchwork little family, sequestered away in the wilderness of the Heartlands, it reminds Mia of how much she's missed out on by lurking on the outskirts of civilization. With only her daughter for company most days, it dawns on her over a weak cup of coffee how desperately lonely life is as a self-imposed pariah.

It had always been about preservation -- her own, Elizabeth's even more so -- and everything else had ranked a distant second. Jake tells her about Yuliy and the children, of Ripley's sharp tongue, Isabella's dogged perseverance, and Mia remembers, dimly, what it was like to live in a community.

It wasn't all bad, her days running with Kilgrave and his men. For all the tyrant outlaw had taken from her, she had fortified a bond with Jake that stood tall and formidable against every challenge they had ever faced.

Enduring Alexander and ending his reign of terror. Surviving. Living to see the next sunrise.

"Come with me," Jake suggests, capturing her hand in his as she reaches across the table to refill his cup.

She hesitates. "I can't impose like that."

"You ain't imposing. You can't stay here."

His words are a rope ladder lowered into her well of despair, promising salvation if she only reaches out and hangs on tight. She looks over at their daughter, sitting on the floor and stacking a tower made of wooden blocks, and the choice is easy.

Within the hour, her entire life is packed up into saddlebags and a small wagon she hitches her horse to; two long years compartmentalized and squared away.

She says good bye to her cabin like a prisoner freshly released from their cell, bidding the claustrophobic wooden walls good riddance. Jake leads the way to a small ranch tucked away behind the treeline a few miles south of Valentine, a cozy cabin in the center, flanked by a barn on one side and a tiny, makeshift shanty town of tents on the other.

She hadn't known what to expect, exactly, but she's struck by the normalcy of it all. A blond man she presumes is Yuliy is grooming a pony with a velvety pink snout; a young woman who's a year or two his senior, at most, is stifling a yawn and complaining to no one in particular about the injustices of being awake before the crack of noon. No one pays her any mind, and she moodily fills a metal bowl with some stew simmering over a fire.

There's a girl with strikingly pale hair, perched on a stool outside her tent and weaving flower stems together to form a crown. A tall man with a kind face, his broad frame wrapped in a plaid shirt and leather vest, smiles adoringly at a diminutive, dark-haired woman who speaks animatedly about something while scrubbing dirty dishes in a wash basin. She splashes him with water a moment later, the pair of them erupting into a fit of laughter, and he kisses her. Mia doesn't need an introduction to deduce precisely who they are.

Simple people living their lives and getting by the only way they know how, all of them outcasts in their own unique way.

Every pair of eyes zeroes in on her and Jake as they dismount their horses, and she reflexively scoops Elizabeth into her arms. One by one, Jake's family approaches and looks to him for answers; an explanation.

"Who's this?" Leon questions, politely nodding to Mia in greeting and then turning his attention to the toddler in her arms. He smiles at Elizabeth and she giggles, hiding her face in the sanctuary of her mother's blouse.

"Another stray?" Ripley deadpans. "Where'd you pick up this one?"

Jake scowls at her and motions to the wagon hitched to Mia's horse. "Go make yourself useful and unpack."

Ripley grumbles but doesn't protest, snagging the collar of Yuliy's shirt and volunteering him to help.

Isabella doesn't offer much in the way of introductions, her focus on Jake and his unannounced disappearance. "You're supposed to be resting," she scolds.

"Extenuating circumstances," he mutters back. "This is Mia."

The name is of no consequence to Leon, but Isabella's face lights up with recognition.

They get a tent pitched for the new tenants, Jake's offers to relinquish the cabin to Mia and Elizabeth summarily turned down. While she organizes the interior, re-arranging her life within the confines of four canvas walls, Jake approaches Isabella where she's busy spreading hay for the horses. Acheron is mission from the lineup, and so is his owner.

"Anyone know where Vincent is?" he asks.

She shrugs her indifference to his whereabouts. "He took off some time after you did, stinking of bourbon. Wherever he went, I expect he's nursing a hangover by now."

She asks if everything is okay, and Jake skirts the question. "Guess we'll see when he gets back."

He offers to help her with the hay, but she swats his hands away and reminds him that he's still on the mend. "I can handle it. You should be resting and spending time with your girl."

"My girl?" He splays his palms and shakes his head, clearing up any misconceptions. "Mia ain't my--"

"I'm not talking about Mia."

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

"The baby. She's yours, isn't she?"