David knows that they can't stay in Adullam forever. It's served them well, and there's no reason that they can't come back, but they need to keep moving. Every day that they stay it becomes more likely that Saul and his armies will show up and if David has to be on the defensive, he'd rather not be shocked into it. Especially now that there's over four hundred other people involved—not just men, either, but their wives and families.
They have to move, and he tells his best friends as much.
"But David," Eleazar says, "what about your parents?"
Jesse and his wife are frail, coming near to the end of their days, and they would be safer staying in one place than moving all around like David is planning on doing. When David looks at his parents he thinks of how Ethan was towards the end of his life; no less full of life, just tired. Ready to rest. David's parents accompanying them is an impossibility.
"I know," he says. "I—I'll drop 'em off somewhere. Not anywhere around here, not where Saul can get them. Somewhere in Moab, maybe? We're friendly with Moab, right?" He's been out of the loop for way too long.
Benaiah shrugs. "Friendlier with Moab than we are with the Phils," he says, and that's going to have to be good enough.
The next morning, David tells Jesse of the plan. His father's skin is withered and weathered in comparison to his mother's skin, the contrast obvious when they clutch each other's hands like they are. David finishes with, "I just—I'm not trying to get rid of you," beseeching them to understand because they need to, he loves his parents and he just got them back, he wouldn't just get rid of them. His father and mother smile.
"We don't think that, David," Jesse says, his voice a croak. "And of course we'll go, if you think it'll be safer."
"It will," David replies, because it has to be. "It will."
"Well, that settles it."
He wants to take them alone, but Jashobeam insists on coming along because travelling back by himself would be a bad idea. His parents entertain Jashobeam with stories of David's childhood, from when he was just a newborn and onwards. David remembers when he was ten and desperate for these stories, and even despite the time that is passed and how circumstances have changed him that desire has not left.
At least, not until they tell the story of how he'd peed on Eliab that one time with great enthusiasm and elaborate details that can't all be true because David knows they heard it second hand. "I see what Eliab meant when he said that he didn't want it talked about ever again," David says dryly as Jashobeam cracks up in the front passenger seat with laughter.
They make it to Moab in good time. His parents know people in Moab, and so when the border guard asks for a reason he tells her that he's dropping them off. The passports are cleared easily; there's a raised eyebrow at the sight of David's, who gave his real passport with nothing to fear, and the border guard checks in with someone over the phone before she says, "We're on friendly terms with you, but if your passport isn't scanned outgoing within twenty-four hours we'll have to assume that you're hostile."
"Understood," David says. He still doesn't like how his reputation precedes him everywhere he goes. "We'll be out of here before the afternoon is up."
And they are. They find David's parent's friend's house with little trouble and soon enough Jashobeam and David are helping them get their bags inside and saying goodbye. David is reluctant, and he's sure that his mother can read it all over his face. She's a tiny thing, he realizes when she hugs him, but strong in all of the ways that matter. When she breaks away, she lays a palm over his cheek. "David," she says, "just remember that we'll aways support you. We love you, and we're proud of you. You are such a strong young man of God and that's better than anything we've ever wished for you."
She thumbs away a tear he hadn't realized had fallen, and David smiles a shaky smile. "Thanks, Mom."
Jesse shakes his hand. David looks him in the eye. "You," David clears his throat. "You take care of her. She's kinda important."
Jesse laughs and pulls him in for a laugh. "Been doing it for decades, son," he says. "She's the most important girl in my life. I'm not about to stop now."
-
Jashobeam, kindly, doesn't mention any tears that fall on the way back to Adullam.
-
They're talking about possible locations that they can go to a few days later when a ringtone interrupts their discussions. Everyone goes still and silent, like the single sound is enough to draw Saul's attention to them. David raises an eyebrow at Uriah as he pulls it out of his pocket. "You know that they can trace cell phones, right?" he asks, and Uriah nods as he frowns down at the screen.
"I know. I lifted this one off of somebody before we left, reset it. Called my parents and Babs' parents, just so that they'd have a number if anything went haywire. I just—they know not to hand it out..." He swipes a finger across the screen, clears his throat. "Hello?"
Uriah's eyes shoot to David almost immediately, and this is great because it's not like they need another threat right now, but then Uriah is holding the phone out to him and saying, "It's for you."
David stares at it. Uriah waves it when David doesn't move to take it and he looks like an idiot, and that's the only reason David ends up taking it.
He doesn't hang up, for no discernible reason other than curiosity. "Hello?"
"David?"
The man's voice is tinny, distant. One of them must be having bad luck with service; after a look at how many bars David has, he knows it's not him. "Speaking. What do you need?"
"You need to move, leave Adullam. Like, pronto."
David nearly drops the phone in his ensuing flail. "Who are you? How do you know where the frick I am?"
"My name is Gad," comes the answer. "And trust me, you're not safe. Leave Adullam and go—somewhere, anywhere."
"I—how do you know?"
Static, a few words fading in and out.
"Gad, how do you know?"
"...word...Saul's camp...leave, David..."
The line goes dead. David lowers the phone from his ear and just looks at it before looks at his friends, who are all staring at him with similar expressions of what the heck just happened on their faces.
David looks at the map they have laid out on the coffee table. He points, "There. The forest of Hereth, or whatever. I haven't been to a forest yet, let's go."
There are no arguments brokered in return, all of them looking serious and determined, and as David hands the phone back to Uriah he thinks, I've missed all of you.
-
He meets with all of his siblings in his house before they leave. "You guys don't have to come," he tells them, holding up a hand when Eliab makes to object. "Really. It's going to be dangerous. Everybody wants to kill me right now, and there is no way that I want you to close enough to become collateral."
Shammah says, "What about everybody else?"
"A lot of these are men that I've known for a long time," David says. "Not that you haven't known me for a long time, but they know me differently. I'm their captain. They know me in the context of war. I'm going to do everything to make sure that they and their families stay safe, but they know the risks. You guys—I'm your little brother. You're going to want to protect me, override me, keep me safe. I can't—I can't have that."
"David," Shammah starts, the corners of his mouth turned downward, but David shakes his head.
"No. I don't want you coming because you feel obligated to stay, or to protect me. I'll take you if you want to come, but that is the only condition, and if you come you have to be ready to listen, okay?"
All of David's older siblings are eerily silent. David waits, arms folded across his chest, and David is shocked when Abishai and Joab both step forward.
"We want to go with you."
Zeruiah sways, and Abinadab steadies her when Eliab says, in his most stern voice, "No way in hell."
David leans back against his kitchen table; if Abindab and Joab really want to come, they're going to have to want it enough to prove it. Standing up to Eliab isn't like anything they're going to face in the middle of a battle but it require bravery, and bravery is something that they're going to need in copious amounts.
The rest of his siblings mimic him, stepping back, letting it play out. Amasa steps back to stand with his mother and father but Asahel, face white despite the determination on it, steps forward to stand with his brothers. "I want to go, too."
Eliab steps closer to them. "And what are you going to do? David isn't going to let you fight," and David has to nod when everybody looks at him because Eliab is right. None of them are going to be fighting right off the bat but Asahel will be the last one of the three, yet Ashael doesn't seemed deterred.
"I want to learn."
"Learn what? How to shoot a gun? How to kill a dirty Phil?"
"How to lead."
Asahel is fifteen, and his voice cracks halfway through the sentence, but the small statement is still enough to shut Eliab up. David looks at Zeruiah; he's not letting her sons come without her blessing.
Zeruiah, still putting some of her weight on Abinadab and green in the face, nods slightly. "Yes," she says, voice shaking. "You can take them."
When David and his men depart from Adullam, David's three nephews are the only members of David's family that accompany them.
-
The forest of Hereth is a nice change from what David's used to. That is, trees and greenery are much different than the dirt and sparse vegetation that David has been living in lately and he's enjoying the change. A lot. If he squints and tilts his head, it's almost like he's with his unit on that first and only camping bonding trip, except with less rain, and he feels his chest ease at the knowledge that they've gotten away unscathed as the days pass.
That is until one morning not long after they arrive Eleazar enters David's tent while David is pulling on his socks. "There's somebody here in rough shape."
"Well, take him in."
"He wants to talk to you. Says that he knows you."
"What's his name?"
"Abiathar."
It doesn't ring a bell, but David pulls on his boots anyways and stands, stretching.
"Alright. Lead on."
There's a small crowd amassed in the clearing closest to David's tent, but it parts easily for him once they realize that he's present and trying to get to the middle of the crowd. The new person is easy to distinguish; he's dirty and bloodied and sunburnt, clothes torn and discoloured and stained. He is not carrying anything with him, and the holes in the mans shoes suggest he came on foot.
But he's smiling at a joke that one of David's people had told, and David knows that profile. He'd interrupted David and Ahimelech during David's brief stay at Nob, although "interrupted" might be too harsh of a word. If the profile wasn't enough, that smile definitely triggers memories from Nob although the memories are of Ahimelech and his ever constant smile.
"You're—you're Ab," David says, recognizing the young man, and all conversation stops when he speaks. This man—this beaten, haggard looking man—had been the one to pack the food up for David before he left Nob while David and Ahimelech had been out praying in the fields.
David's men look at him, intrigued, but he doesn't pay them any attention.
"Abiathar," the young man says, shaking David's hand even and still looking like he's about to be sick. "I'm a chaplain with the peacekeepers."
David frowns. "I didn't realize that they'd keep two of you at the same outpost."
"I was on leave, visiting," Abiathar says. "My dad is—was the chaplain."
"Your dad? Was?"
"My dad is Ahimelech. Was Ahimelech. The chaplain with the peacekeepers out at Nob." Abiathar's expression twists, his face white underneath the dirt and the blood covering it. "That were out at Nob."
"What's with the past tense."
David's tone is harsher than he wants it to be but he—he thinks he knows what's coming, and it terrifies him and angers him and saddens him, because—
"I was on leave and hadn't seen him—my dad—in a long while so I figured I'd—yeah. Visit. You were there. I saw you." Abiathar's voice is growing thick and he swallows. "President Saul gave the orders. He heard you'd been around from an insider, and his men killed them all. All of them. The peacekeepers, their families, the animals, my dad. Everyone. Nobody was expecting it. Their weapons were all in the armoury. They had no chance." A choked, desperate noise. "They had no chance."
"Everybody?" David asks, because this is—this is his fault. He brought this upon the people stationed at Nob. All because Ahimelech had offered him food and company and had even prayed with him.
All because of David.
Abiathar frowns, wiping his nose with his sleeve and David pretends he doesn't notice. "Everybody except for the traitor."
"Who was it?"
"A man by the name of Doeg."
The familiar peacekeeper on the porch. That's who it was. David—David knew that face from his early days of playing for Saul because he had been the one carrying Abner's papers when David had collided with the General. David had been so focussed on Abner that he hadn't really paid attention to the other man so his memory is fuzzy but even though he didn't get the man's name the face matches. David sinks into his chair and rubs a hand over his face. He might pass out. This is all his fault.
Jash says, "Sir?" and David ignores him.
"Of course he'd tell Saul," David says under his breath, stomach churning as he tries to calm his thoughts and tears trail silently down Abiathar's face, perversely cleaning the mess on his cheeks as they fall. "Of course. This. This is all my fault."
"No, David, don't say that," Abiathar pleads, but David shakes his head.
"This is all my fault. If I hadn't stopped at Nob this never would've happened. But—" David closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, tries not to let the knowledge that the President ordered a massacre of a unit of peacekeepers rock him. "Look. Stay with us. You have a home here. You don't have to be afraid. He's looking for me too."
Abiathar startles, like he was actually thinking about moving on. "David, it's—that's too much. I can go, get out of your hair—"
"No, it's okay." And David smiles, although he has no idea how he pulls it off. "We're in need of a chaplain anyways."
The matching smile on Abiathar's face, even underneath the dirt and the blood and the tears, is worth it.
-
He's home.
The farm looks as good as it always has—better now, though, with a few years separation from it. David's missed this more than he's missed many other things, the sense of home that comes with this land, because all he's been doing the past few years is wandering whether it be through the Mansion or through the wilderness and he's just tired.
David's mother is sitting at the kitchen table doing a crossword puzzle, and looks up when the squeak of the door signals his entry. Her smile is wide and unflinching and so full of love and David is careful not to fall into her arms when she stands up for a hug because he's bigger than her, now. He doesn't want to crush her. Doesn't want the weight that's resting suffocatingly on his shoulders to transfer over to hers by some sort of freak accident because she's his mother and she would try to take it, if she knew.
The rest of the house is quiet. His mom places a warm palm on his cheek when he breaks the hug, cradling it, and says, "Oh, David," with compassion shining in her eyes. As always she sees right through him and looks straight at his heart, straight at the burden that he's carrying. "What happened?"
He shrugs, tries to smile. "Your guess is as good as mine, I suppose."
He's so tired. His mother says, "Why don't you go upstairs? There's a surprise waiting for you."
"Surprise?" Did she know he had been coming? He hadn't given any forewarning; this trip was as much of a surprise to him as anybody else, but he had needed to get away. He'd needed to leave.
His mother smiles and sits back down but doesn't elaborate any further, turning her concentration back to her crossword puzzle. That was...odd, but David heads upstairs without questioning it. Surprises, especially those from his parents, are usually a good thing, and after the rough go he's had of things lately he just kind of wants to...relax. Not think about anything. And possibly enjoy this surprise.
She hadn't told him where it was, so David checks his room first. It's exactly the way that he had left it, right down to the unmade bed; it's not like he had time to go home after Goliath, when Saul moved him in. Heck, he didn't even get to be the one to run home and grab his things. So, yeah, his bed is still unmade, there are clothes in a mostly tidy pile in the corner because he hadn't replaced his laundry hamper, and the games in the shelves in the TV stand are sorted haphazardly at best. Ozem's bed is neat and tidy, as Ozem in general is, but David's brother is nowhere in sight.
In the corner, the guitar that Ethan gave him sits on the stand.
There is nothing new, nothing out of place, so he moves on.
He checks every other room on the floor, his brothers' rooms and his parents room and there's nothing, nothing out of place, nothing at all to see. He searches the closet and the bathroom and there's nothing nothing nothing and just before he heads back downstairs his eyes catch on the door at the end of the hall, the one room that he hadn't checked.
Ethan's room.
It's been years since Ethan actually occupied that room, but David knows instinctively that his mother would keep it tidy, a memorial of sorts just for them. It's not intruding, not when Ethan is no longer there to ask permission to enter, not when Ethan died in the bed in that very room—
The door is rough against the palm of his left hand, the door knob cool in his right. He turns the nob and pushes it open.
Ahimelech is sitting on Ethan's bed.
David says, "What?"
Ahimelech tilts his head slightly, smiling like he always is. Was. "What's up?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I invited him," says a voice in the corner, and David's senses must be off if he's not noticing all of the potential threats in the room. He knows that voice, though, it's safety and love and home, and when David turns he's not surprised to see Ethan though it doesn't stop his heart from hurting.
"What?" David says again, because seriously, they're both dead.
Ethan is smiling as well, looks hale and whole and nothing like what he looked like towards the end. "Hey, David."
"You're dead," David says as he looks between the two of them, completely lacking whatever tact he had.
Ethan, still smiling (and oh, how David has missed that smile, missed his brother), says, "It's ok."
"It is clearly not ok."
"David, it's really ok."
"You're dead. This means that I am going crazy."
"Hey," Ahimelech interrupts, standing up and walking over so that he can lay a hand on David's shoulder. He looks exactly the same as he did the last time that David saw him—pepper grey hair and ever present smile on his face, exuding a calm that David isn't sure Ahimelech always felt, outer appearances disregarded. "It's alright. We're alright. It's okay."
"You've said that to me before," David says. "You got murdered shortly after."
Ahimelech nods. "I know."
"Your son barely escaped with his life."
Another nod. "I know that, too."
"He'll stop at nothing to kill me," David continues, something distinctly unfriendly bubbling up in his chest but he keeps it swallowed down, contained. If he can keep his cool when the President is throwing sharp objects at him then he can keep his cool right now. "Saul, that is. He had your entire unit massacred, Ahimelech, so please tell me how you reckon everything's gonna be alright. Also," he looks at Ethan, who has been standing in that corner observing the exchange, content to watch, "where's my surprise? Mom said there would be a surprise."
Ethan shrugs.
Ahimelech says, "David, what did we do before you left?"
"You gave me Goliath's letter opener."
"Before that," Ahimelech says after he laughs and rolls his eyes. "David, come on. Don't be dense. You're a smart guy."
But it's—it's hard to remember. There are two dead guys in his dead brother's room—one of them said dead brother—and busy as David is trying not to panic he's also trying not to think about what's going on with Saul and besides that, he's just tired. David's so tired. Maybe if he goes downstairs to get another hug from his mom that'll make the hallucinating stop and he'll actually get his surprise.
David says, "Before you got me Goliath's dagger-sword-thing, we..." Oh, right. "Oh right."
Ethan says, "You what?" but he looks like he already knows, just wants David to say it. Like hearing David say it is—a key to it's success, or something, never mind the fact that David's not sure how Ethan knows what Ahimelech and David got up to before David left Nob because Ethan had already been long dead by that point—
"We went for a walk," David says. "And we prayed."
Ahimelech says, "David, who is on your side?" and that question is a no brainer.
"God," David says. It's something that, through all of this, hasn't changed. Perhaps it's the only thing.
"Exactly," Ahimelech says, finally lifting his hand off of David shoulder, and Ethan gives David a hug. David's brother is strong and healthy and they're standing at the same height, and the impulse to ask him what, exactly, he's doing here in their childhood home is on the tip of his tongue but before he can David sits up in his bed, panting and sweating and tears streaming down his face.
A dream. It had been a dream. Just a dream.
His stomach rolls as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to regain control over his lungs. It's okay, everything's okay, apart from the fact that Ethan's been dead for years and Ahimelech is dead because of him and—
God, David thinks, wanting nothing more than to collapse back onto his mattress but he stays upright. God.
He feels around beside his bed for the notebook and pen that's usually there, fumbling around for it in the dark for a few minutes before he finally turns on a light so that he can grab it faster. He turns to an empty page and hears Ahimelech ask, David, who is on your side, and David's hand is moving over the page before he realizes what's happening, words flowing through him faster than he can process them.
I call on you, O God for you will answer me;
give ear to me and hear my prayer
Show the wonder of your great love,
you who save by your right hand
those who take refuge in you from their foes*
God is faithful. God is here.
It'll be okay, if not today then someday.
---
* Psalm 16:6-7 (NIV)