Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of SHIELD, or any part of the Marvel Universe, just using it for my fanfiction. I own nothing but my imagination and OC's I create. Thank you for reading and give me your thoughts and reviews, do be kind.
Spoilers: This story is set a week after the Season 1 Finale of Agents of SHIELD, side note glad that it and Agent Carter got renewed for another season.
"Something In The Dark"
The eyelids started to twitch ever so slightly, all because the dreams were becoming more and more captivating with each passing second. These dreams were so intense that the dreamer has yet to notice where he is; so instead of sleeping in a nice, warm, comfortable bed he was in fact resting on an old-worn down cot inside a dank, cold room.
The room itself is dimly lit by a single flickering bulb, and the man simply laid there like a corpse without moving nor making a sound. He would have continued to slumber living in his own dreamscapes, but as fate would have it the room decided it was time for him to wake. Although it's version of an alarm came in the form of condensation which pooled together just above the young man. Within moments a single drop began to form and seconds later it fell away, splashing down on his pale-skinned cheek.
Unknown Man
Something cold and wet hits my cheek. It was cold enough to make my whole body flinch and cause goosebumps to form on the back of my arms.
Normally I'd be awake instantly from something like that, but instead, I continue to just lay there, still; clinching my eyes shut like I'm some frightened child.
Why do I feel like this? Can't even remember the last time I felt like this. I feel it hit my cheek again, only this time it was much colder, like the icey touch of death.
I stir awake finally, blinking my eyes open; only there was nothing to see but dimly lit, blurs.
Sitting up feels next to impossible, as both my bones and muscles feel as if I got hit by the Hulk, twice. After managing to sit up, I let my feet touch the floor; the floor was freezing, damp, and hard like concrete.
I rub my eyes and face trying to shake off what little bit of drowsiness is left in my system. As I take a second look, I quickly wish I hadn't.
Should've kept on sleeping, would've been better than waking up and finding myself in some kind of holding cell, a used one at that.
At first glance I don't see any discernable way out, kinda hard to tell thanks to that damn flickering bulb.
I pop my back and crack my neck a few times letting out a relieving sigh afterwards. Have'ta force myself to stand up, but my damn body still feels sore and my bones ache, yet I finally manage to stand.
Nearly lose my balance; feel so light-headed for some reason, but why? Has to be some kinda drug that's still in my system.
In moments I can feel it begin to dissipate just as quickly as it came, after which I decided to take a closer look at my current accommodations.
Normally, I'd be asking myself why I'm here, or at the very least who could've put me here. Right now, the only question I need to answer is how the hell do I get outta here.
After looking for a bit, the apparent bad news was that there was no obvious door in sight, just concrete walls; but there was worse news, some of the walls appeared to have...scratch marks? Someone was frightened enough to try and claw their way out; what the hell is this place?
I decided to take a better look at the so-called "bed" I was sleeping on. Closer inspection of this cot tells me that it's an old military issued cot, circa 1943; it also tells me that it's been used and worn down to the point of being unusable, perhaps even hazardous.
It's been used so many times over the years that I can smell the sweat stains in the fabric; there were other stains among them, some that reeked of...ugh, I think it's time to stop looking here.
Standing back up, I start to feel something. This place, the flickering bulb, everything in here feels unnervingly familiar. I've been here before, my body knows it, even my instincts tells me the same thing, but it can't be right...can it? My jaw clenches, I'm starting to get pissed; I keep asking myself What the hell is going on here?
The man takes in a deep calming breath, while placing his hands on his hips, soon after he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate. He tried to think of a way out of this place, but came up with nothing. That is when once again, a strange feeling came over him, but this one was different. He felt as though there was someone watching him from behind; so he prepared and braced himself for what was to come next.
Unknown Man
Someone's behind me, I feel their eyes boreing a hole in the back of my head. My hands clench into fists and my muscles go tant as I ready myself.
One quick fluid-like motion and I turn around ready to fight without hesitation; however, I was not prepared for who was right in front of me.
Sitting on the floor before me, playing with some army men toys, was a kid. He couldn't be more than 8 years old, 9 tops, and how did he get in here?
What bugged me more was the fact that we were both wearing the same clothes; gray sweats, long-sleeve white shirt (though mine appears to be stained) and neither of us had shoes on.
At first I thought that this was some sort of trick or illusion; maybe it was the drug in my system. Well, whatever the case may be, I'll play along, for a while at least or until I find a way outta this place.
Slowly, I take a step forward; he looks up at me, a playful smile crosses his face as he says "Hi." his tone gentle, like he's not afraid of this place, or me.
"Hi there." my tone as gentle as I can make it. The kid continued to smile at me, while I knelt down across from him. "My name is Jaxx; what's your name buddy?"
The kid looks down at his toys and starts to play then says "My name is Thomas; like the train." Like the train? It'd be cute if he wasn't so damn freakishly calm.
I sit down opposite of the kid and he hands me one of his toys; looking at the infantryman I start to have brief flashback to when I served. As I look up I see the kids' eyes, they were a metallic green. It's a unique color, yet like this room he seems familiar.
"Thomas, where are you from? Where is home?" Asking a question like this, especially now, is a risk; it's possible that he might not know, or that he might be too afraid to tell me.
He looks at me once more, but this time he appeared confused by the question, "This is home. Yours too; don't you remember?"
Now I'm the one that's confused; why did he just say this is my home too? "My memory is a bit fuzzy on that." I have'ta get some straight answers.
"Do you...possibly know how to get out of here?" Another risky question, he could shut down or even stop talking to me, but I have'ta chance it.
He lets out a giggle "The door stupid." Now he just got less cute and more annoying, nevertheless he points behind him and there it is. A steel reinforced door that wasn't there before.
Slowly get to my feet, that's when the door slowly creaks open, like a door in a haunted house. I take a few more steps til I'm at the opening; can't see anything except black, pure blackness.
I turn around to see Thomas still playing with his toys, making gunfire noises and explosion sounds like he was playing war as if it were a game. I've been through war, through gunfights, through explosions and it wasn't fun nor was it a child's game.
No more fun and games, it's time to leave, for both of us to leave. "Thomas, buddy, we gotta go, now!" I try not to raise my voice, I try to keep calm.
"Jaxx?" he queries; I start to feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Soon after I started getting a sinking feeling in my stomach, then I hear someone whispering in the blackness.
I look behind me, "What is it bud?" As I look back at Thomas I see a horrifying scene. My heart is trying to pound out of my chest as I see blood pouring from his nose and mouth; his shirt looked tattered and bloody.
I tried to yell but my voice was completely gone; he walked towards me tilting his head to the right "Why did I have to die Jaxx?" his voice breaks, my blood curdles.
Something grabs me from behind, trying to pull me into the darkness; I manage grab the doorframe, but my grip is beginning to slip.
As I look back at the kid, he's standing there pointing at me wearing a sinister blood-covered smile. "At long last, there's your secret." the voice was not his own; it sounded older, and English, it was as if he was possessed.
Can't hold on anymore, the tips of my fingers start to slip, and something covers my mouth then I finally lose my grip falling into the darkness.
My eyes snap open once again, but this time I see a familiar ceiling fan spinning above; letting out a heavy sigh before I look to my right to see the alarm telling me it's 4:00 a.m. Same damn dream, same as the night before and the every night since Philadelphia. But hey, at least I got 4 hours of sleep this time, guess that's something; time to start the day, for what it's worth.
2 hours later
In this world, in this day and age there is one certainty that all could agree on; that everyman, every woman, that everything has a breaking point. A point where they just throw in the towel, where they decide to give in or call it quits simply saving themselves the bother or trouble. He thought that he would be safe that if he got as far away from the world that he knew that the nightmares would stop haunting him. But after nearly a month and a half the nightmares were becoming more and more intense every time he closed his eyes.
The dreams increase his adrenaline which causes him to revert back to his military training. He works it off the only way he knows how, by doing push-ups, sit-ups, and even running a mile each day. As a soldier he was taught to never let the enemy get inside your head, but what happens when the enemy is already inside? Right now, the young man standing in the shower has nearly reached his breaking point. Jaxx, as he is called by both friends and acquaintances, stands as still as a statue while the heated water splashes against his flesh, while he grimaces at the dream he just awoke from.
Jaxx
Can't shake it off. That same damn dream continuingly haunts me night after night, even worse is the fact that I have no idea what the hell any of it means.
I've had nights like this before; there were times when I was in Falusia where sleep was next to impossible to get. But that was war, it was a common occurrence, this is anything but.
What haunts me the most about the dreams is that they feel so surreal, even down to the voice that said "At long last, there's your secret." I get goosebumps all over every time I hear that.
This shower doesn't help, but regardless it's become part of my routine, one that has kept me sane; for the moment at least. Guess I have no other choice, I hate to admit it but there's still one last card I can still play.
12 minutes later
He usually isn't this anxious; he was trained to be calm, cool, and collected at all times, like a good soldier that he was. Sure he cracked jokes or made comments that were out of character for one with his history, but that was more for him than it was for everyone else. But today was no joke; his face holds no expression as he sits on the bed tucking in the bottom of his pant legs into his boots. Tying them tight enough to almost cut off circulation was an old habit he acquired when he joined the marines. Standing up, he tightens his black military-issued belt, soon after he walks over to the wardrobe mirror resting in the corner of the bedroom. He doesn't look at it; instead he kneels down next to an old duffle bag and pulls the zipper left to right. He shuffles a few things around before he finds it; he pulls it out and watches as the chained pendant dangles in front of him.
This single piece of jewelry was more important to him than even his dog tag (which to a marine is saying something). He rests the chain around his neck leaving the pendant to seemingly resting against his chest. Getting ready to zip the bag closed something catches his eye, something from his past that is resting comfortably underneath some socks. Pushing aside the socks, he pulls out the big black case; one which had embroidering that read UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. He stood up, hesitating to open it; no instead he looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror.
He turned to face it and took in every detail, everything from the scuff marks and dirt on his boots to the clean cut jeans and white shirt. Brushing his hair with his hand, he looked to his right and grabbed the brown jacket that rested on the chair. He slipped it on with ease and once more took a look at himself; he was nervous, not that anyone could tell, and once more he brushed his hair with his hand before turning his attention back to the case. Part of him wanted to open it even though it held all sorts of memories, most of which he wanted to forget.
No, not now he thought to himself, so he stuffed it inside his inner jacket pocket and lets out a sigh of relief. He kneels down once more to zip closed his duffle bag, then swings it over his shoulder; now he was ready and prepared for what was to come next. As he walks past the kitchen and into the living room he stops to look at some photos. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a note; he grins as he smacks it once, and then places it in front of one particular photo. On the front of the note it says only this; Thanks for letting me stay General, but it was time for me to move on. As always, your friendly wisecracking marine. - Jaxx
He walks over to the door, opens it and gets halfway out when he pauses; he turns back and takes in one last look at this cabin. Jaxx lets out a slight chuckle before he closes the door, locking it behind him; he takes in one last breath of fresh air, then he begins his trek down the creek bed to meet up with an old friend.
1 hour 47 minutes later
Jaxx
I'm still nervous as hell; not sure if this is the right choice or not, but what other options are there?
As I look around though, it feels nice out here. Away from all the noise and electronics, especially after what happen with the Ultron situation.
So much chaos, so much destruction because of one man; hell I can see why he would need someone like me.
Looking ahead, just about 200 meters and I see him, standing there waiting for me. Can't help but smile a bit; from this distance I can see the look of gloom over his face.
It takes me about 7 minutes to get to him; he just stands there in his nice agent suit, that's when I notice that his left arm is in a sling. He looks anxious, maybe the even a little preoccupied by something; curious.
"Hello Jaxx; been a while." that's Coulson for you, always a smooth operator, that's why he's one of the few people I can trust.
Coulson
I'm glad Jaxx accepted my proposal; with everything that has happened in the past month, I might need someone like Jaxx on my side. Things are becoming increasingly difficult at the base, with Simmons missing and nowhere to be found, Bobbi still recovering from Ward, I need all the help I can get.
However, my decisions haven't helped matters much, and I'll have to carry the weight of my decisions for the rest of my life as well as the consequences, just like Fury did.
He just stands there holding his old military issued duffle bag, waiting for some kind of response; takes me back to when we first met, back before we had to deal with genocidal A.I's, enhanced's everywhere, and now "Inhumans".
He asks me "The offer still good?" I haven't told him what has happened since he last saw the team. Never been able to lie to Jaxx, he has always been able to tell when someone was lying; one of many tricks he's learned.
"It's still good; but before we take this any further, you should know that there have been some changes since your last visit." Though it's hard to tell, a hint of confusion crossing his face; he was always good at keeping a straight face, that's why I never invite him to poker night.
"You still the director right?" his tone is neutral, yet gravelly; he looks exhausted, as if he hasn't been sleeping well lately. Wonder if it's the nightmares he told me about before.
"Things have gotten...complicated." Hope he doesn't take my answer as a bad sign, but who knows, Jaxx isn't a clear-cut kinda guy.
"This only works if I answer to you and to you only. No one else." His tone was a bit more sternful this time, yet he remained calm and collected.
His request wasn't unreasonable, but I can't shake the feeling that there's more that he's not telling me. "Ok, it's a deal."
He smirks, then walks over to me and holds out his hand; we shake and nod in agreement.
"Well then, let's get this show on the road. The jets' not going to fly itself, well unless you have your own A.I flying that thing. You don't, do ya?" He walks over to where the hover jet is, like it's not even cloaked and I activate the ramp.
He walks in and I quickly follow; I press the remote and the ramp closes behind us. Jaxx stows his bag before getting seated in the pilots' seat.
I take the co-pilots' seat and get buckled in, while Jaxx starts flipping on switches; it's harder to buckle in now thanks to my missing hand, but I manage. May taught him how to fly so I think it best to let him take the wheel and seconds later we're ready for takeoff.
"Ready to go sir!" He says. From the sound of it, I'm guessing he missed the action, most soldiers like him often do. I nod, a sign for him to go ahead and just like that, we're off the ground going full throttle back to base.
"So, it's been a little over a year since I last saw the guys, and gals. How is the old band doing? Haven't heard from Jemma in a little while, what's she up to?" He's cheerful, but if only he knew. I hesitate which catches his notice and he gazes at me with a glint of concern in his eyes.
"You remember back on the Islands; I promised you that I'd always tell you the truth, even if you didn't want it?" Now he looks more confused than before, but still he nods in acknowledgement. So for the next 4 and 1/2 hours I tell him everything. I tell him about the alien writings I was compelled to draw, Whitehall, Ward, Skye's father and mother, Triplett, everything. I can only give him my side of the story about the other SHIELD invading our base, Skye's powers, even the events that led up to the Ultron attack. I don't hold anything back, not even about those that we lost, I had to gain his trust and the only way to do that was giving him the truth. I also tell him about Jemma missing and what we didn't destroy on the Islands nearly a year ago, and how it was going to haunt us.