Jacob was just about tired of the whole week. Everything was going to hell, and John was going crazier as the resistance continued to rebel.

"Put the judges in the pens! Prisoners in the cells!" Jacob yelled, his hand touching the little music box in his pocket. All he wanted to do was go back to his compound and settle into the room he shared with you, maybe sit and watch as you went through your nighttime routine.

The only sense of normalcy he seemed to get these days, especially after his service.

"Hurry up! Daylights burning!" A growing unease filled his chest, and he was itching to get back. But Jacob had to supervise and make sure everything went smoothly, or he had to deal with more complaining and craziness from his brothers.

When he finally got home to that little building Jacob called a modest country home, he relaxed. Nothing fancy, as Jacob didn't like calling that attention to himself.

As usual, he came in quietly, not finding the need to call out that he was home. The only other people who knew the location of the house were his brother's and Faith.

Then, there you were. Sweet and unassuming as you went about whatever it was you always did. It was like Jacob shed one skin and stepped into another when he walked through the front door. He no longer was a leader alongside his brothers, but a lover in a silent home.