Chapter Text
The night was quiet like every other night on the farm. Rick was not only used to the silence, he preferred it. Rick leaned against his shovel on his farm chewing on a toothpick as the wind blew through his messy hair. It was peaceful here in the middle of nowhere, his middle of nowhere.
And then the sky cracked open. A burning streak of light tore across the stars above, Rick’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the aircraft, he spat out the toothpick from between his teeth, his eyes glued to the trail of smoke in the sky as it plummeted like a comet slamming into the southern ridge of his property with a bone shaking BOOM.
“Goddamn sky government can’t even crash land right,” Rick muttered, grabbing his rifle and heading towards the crash. Through the black smoke what he found was a wreckage, but not just any wreckage. A smoldering escape pod sat crumpled in dirt surrounded by flames and black smoke.
Rick was conscious as he approached, holding his rifle tightly and ready to shoot anything that moved. He wiped the glass on the pod now blackened by smoke to investigate and his eyes widened momentarily as he caught a glimpse of what was inside. In the center of the pod was a woman, limp and unconscious in a half-charred flight suit. His eyes remained on her for a moment too long, she was laying there in all black tactical gear.
“Great” Rick muttered as his eyes examined the body. Bloodied yet still breathing.
He had half a mind to let her die in her little wrecked crater; she was already out and not his responsibility after all. He drags his hand on the side of his face, rolling his eyes before looking back at her again. The metal was still hissing but the smoke was clearing up. If there is one, there will be more soon. He thought to himself as he looked up at the sky.
Rick reluctantly dragged her unconscious body to the barn, cursing his luck under his breath. At this point he didn’t care if she was alive or not, he was getting answers one way or another. The barn was dim, lit only by a single swaying bulb, the cool night breeze making a hissing sound as it collided into the tin walls of the barn. He tied her wrists and ankles tightly to a rickety wooden chair.
After a couple of hours she woke up with a sharp inhale. Pain bloomed in her side; dried blood itched against her temple as the throbbing headache pounded like an alarm but the sirens from the crash were long gone. All that was left was silence, the subtle sound of the wind and…
“Bout time” a voice said dry as dust. She squinted against the light and saw him. A man in a stained lab coat and dirty overalls, his hair wild and messy and eyes tired but watchful, calculating. He sipped from a dented metal flask, she noticed the rifle holstered at his side, non-standard. Custom made. Dangerous.
“Who are you?” she croaked.
“That's funny,” he said, taking a step closer. “I was gonna ask you the same thing. You crashed a Galactic Federation pod into my damn field and don’t have the decency to die on impact. Real inconsiderate even for a government rat.” He takes another sip from his flask, but his eyes never leave her figure.
Her lips parted. “Galactic Federation?”
“Don’t play dumb” he snapped, now holding the rifle. A threat, he was too smart and frankly too tired for these games.
“You were in a GGA-11 fighter-class scout vessel, serial number wiped, encrypted comms fired. No tags, no dog chips, no ID in the system. You have no biometric trace as if you don’t even exist as far as the galaxy’s concerned.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Care to explain or should we finish this now?” he slightly raised the rifle watching her eyes widen.
She blinked twice eyes flickering from the rifle back at him “I don’t remember”
“Convenient”
“I’m serious! I don’t know my name, I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t even know where I am.”
“You are in the middle of nowhere, MY middle of nowhere. And if you are lying, you are going to regret waking up.”
She studied him. His hands were steady, but his gaze flicked between her and her restraints every few seconds. He didn’t trust her. He’d done this before. However, he could see in her eyes that she was confused. She was either a great liar and an actor which wouldn’t be unheard of as a Galactic Federation agent or she was telling the truth.
“You tied me up,” she said flatly.
Rick shrugged “I’m not in the habit of letting brainwashed government rats roam free on my farm” He nods at her direction
“Especially ones who drop out of the sky. You are either running from something or looking for someone, either way you’ll stay tied up until I decide what to do with you”
“How Hospitable” she said sarcastically, watching his every move with a slight frown.
“I’m not running a bed and breakfast, sweetheart. I like my peace and quiet, you disrupted both” His eyes narrowed. Not angry, just frustrated.
She looked down, straining against the ropes subtly, testing the strength, angle. Her muscles moved like they remembered everything she didn’t. precision, tactics, control.
Rick noticed. Rolling his eyes as he titled his head. “Don’t bother” he tapped on the ropes “Carbon filament. You are not getting out unless I let you.”
She huffed through her nose looking up at him.
“So now what” she said with a hint of frustration and fear in her tone. Rick sighed loudly taking a seat across from her, arms crossed as he looked at her.
“Now” He took another swig out of his flask. “We wait. If you're telling the truth your memories will come back, or if you are lying someone will come looking for you sooner or later. And if they are wearing a uniform…” He nods at her pointing at her uniform and gear “I bury you in the field before they knock”
....
Two days went by. Rick didn’t bother to check her wounds or ask any more questions about her past. It was a dead end trying to dig up information on her. Even ghosts left more metadata on interstellar dark web databases. He would occasionally bring her food and water, nothing fancy, only to keep her alive. Not that he cared but he had to make sure she wasn’t there for him, and other agents were not going to show up on his farm to find her. No. That’s the last thing he needs.
On the third morning, the wind outside was dry, the sun creeping over the low hills like it was trying not to be noticed. Rick stepped into the barn with a metal cup in one hand and a half-burned piece of toast in the other.
She was still there. Tied. Awake. Quiet.
But her eyes were different now, not frantic, not confused. Watchful.
“I didn’t think you’d keep me alive this long,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“I’m still deciding,” Rick muttered around a mouthful of toast.
He looked at her, really looked this time. Her injuries hadn’t gotten worse, but the bruises around her wrists were angry red. Her posture was slumped, not from exhaustion but calculation. He could tell she’d already mapped every corner of the barn. He didn’t trust her. But she hadn’t screamed, cried, begged, or broken anything. And she hadn’t lied. Yet.
“What?” She turns her head towards him as he stares.
He didn’t even realize he had been staring at her for that long as he was lost in his own thoughts, thinking about every possibility. He blinks, remaining stoic and unimpressed.
“You know anything about farming?” He asks, after two days, this is probably the first question he has asked her. Her lips parted momentarily as if she wanted to answer but nothing came out. She didn’t know. No matter how much she tried there was nothing.
“Why?” she asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re eating my food and staying in my barn the least you could do is help around. Don’t they teach you manners at whatever hell you’re from?” he answers in a flat, calculated tone as he takes a step towards the chair she was tied to.
She stayed silent, averting her gaze to think without being intimidated by his figure that was now towering over her.
“Why not just kill me? I thought you enjoyed your peace and quiet” she dares. Eyes return to him, but he remains calm.
“I need answers, and amnesia or not they’re locked up somewhere in your head.” He takes a sip from his flasks wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“Plus, you haven’t tried to kill me or run away so, I guess that’s two points in your favor” he gets a sharp knife out of his pocket, spinning it in his hand.
She tensed at the sight of the knife.
“You told me I couldn’t break out of these ropes”
He lets out a dry chuckle, his smirk almost cruel “And you believed me?”
She lets out a huff at his response, her gaze heavy and cold. “Is that how trust works on this farm? A point system” He walked over slowly, his knife spinning in his hand as he crouched beside the chair.
“No, Trust don’t work here. Rules do” He sliced the rope cleanly with one practiced motion. Her hands fall free, numb from hours of pressure. She doesn’t rub them, just studies his expressions carefully.
“So you’re just letting me go?” She blinked at him, still processing.
“Letting you work,” Rick corrected. “Big difference.”
“You pull anything, you’ll be the wild mutants next meal” He threatens.
She stared at him a moment longer, something flickering behind her gaze. Not quite fear. Not quite trust.
Just survival.
“You want a bed; you work for it. There is a shovel behind the shed. South field needs turning. You’ll know when you see it. Don’t mess with the tomatoes.” He turns to leave.
“What if I run?” she asks, still skeptical. He stops and turns his head to look back at her.
“You won’t” he said with no hesitation, no second thought. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“There is nowhere worth running to. And if you can’t even farm, I doubt you’d be able to fix that wrecked pod of yours.” Her gaze fell to her wrists now red and bruised from the ropes.
She was conflicted. She knew he could have killed her or if he was feeling generous, let her die and let the mutant coyotes take care of the rest but for some reason that she couldn’t fully understand, he didn’t. And now, he was offering her shelter and food in return for simple labor. She knew she had nowhere to run to, not like this anyways. This was her best bet at least until the memories came back.
“Am I supposed to say thank you?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Still skeptical.
This time he doesn’t look back.
“No, I’m using you.”