Hi guys!
This is based on a dream I had last night.
I don't own Marvel, BBC's Sherlock, or Star Trek.
Here you go.
Prologue, Part 1
Do not fear death.
Do not run, for death will find you, no matter where you hide.
Do not look back.
Breaths shook in the quiet house, hearts hammering behind closed doors. Bodies tensed in anxiousness, waiting. Waiting for it to be over, waiting to come out of hiding, to live and breathe again. Or for the opposite.
Waiting for death.
She knew, from the moment he told her, that they were doomed. That they had hours, minutes, and not the years they told them to keep the smaller ones calm.
No matter where they hid, he would find them eventually.
That is why she stood up, leaving her trembling six-year-old sister, telling her that she would be back. That is why she hid her ten-year-old brother in a separate room, not with his sister, telling him that it was safer to be separated.
In reality, she didn't want him to watch as the man, the hunter, killed their sister, and then came for him.
That is why she drugged them, slipping a sedative into their food. She didn't want them to panic. She wanted them to have a peaceful death.
She refused to do so, though, no matter how many times he told her it was a good idea. She did not want to die at the hands of a man a coward, too scared to be awake at his arrival. She would be brave.
She had accepted her death.
She waited with the man who had done so much for her. He had told her the truth about the man who was coming. He had hidden her siblings to secure their peace of mind, he had supplied her with the sedative.
He had cared for them after their parents died at the hands of the same man. He had used his own resources to teach them, take care of them.
He had been there at the beginning, and he would be there to the end.
Mycroft Holmes watched her as she sat, contemplating the arrival of the man. He had warned her, multiple times. He had seen what the man did to her parents, and to the others like her. He had killed more than half of them, leaving only a fourth of the original test subjects able to complete the second phase of testing. But this time would be different.
Darkness fell outside the house, keeping those awake unable to see the backyard from where they sat in the dining room. The sliding glass door reflected the small lamp, the only source of light, illuminating the porch, plunging everything beyond into even darker night.
The girl sat, staring at the paper in her hands. Her mother had written the small poem, her careful cursive fading, after years of adorning the paper.
Do not fear death.
Do not run, for death will find you, no matter where you hide.
Accept your death. Do not cower, do not flinch.
Stand tall, chin up, shoulders back, and when death arrives, greet it at the door.
Invite them in, welcome them, tell them about yourself.
Tell them you are ready.
Do not look back.
A noise outside made the pair look up. In the darkness of the night, they could hear the soft crunch of grass under boots, the heavy breathing of someone trying to keep quiet after running.
He had arrived.
His dark brown hair hung around his face, a black combat jacket accentuating his muscular frame. He had multiple weapons on his person, ranging from the hunting knife peeking out of his boot, to the large gun strapped to his back.
He wore no mask, nothing covering his face. His dark eyes swirled with emotion, in stark contrast with his stoic face.
She stood up, acknowledging his presence. She unlocked the sliding door, opening it.
"I've been waiting for you."
She gestured with her hand, inviting him inside. Her gaze was met by a look of curiosity and confusion, but he complied.
After he had stepped inside, she closed the door. He had tensed, as if expecting a trap. He looked at her, distrust coloring his face.
She ignored it, walking over and resuming her spot at the table.
"My brother and sister are in the bedrooms." Her voice shook, betraying her calm. "They're asleep. It's more peaceful that way, y'know?"
He glanced at her, then at Mycroft, who simply sat there, holding his umbrella. Seeing him to be no threat, he continued down the hallway.
Finding the children was easy, his enhanced hearing catching every breath coming from their mouth, betraying their hiding spots. He finished them off quickly, spilling none of their blood, leaving their bodies intact.
He returned to the dining room, to his last target. She hadn't moved, staying in the same position he had left her in.
He paused, knowing that she knew these were her last few minutes, her last few breaths.
"My mom always told me to be brave, because everyone dies eventually. I'm trying to be brave, but it's not working. I guess it's because I'm not scared of death. I am scared, but not of death. I'm not scared of you, either." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "I'm scared of how I'm going to die."
She turned to look at him. "I don't want it to hurt."
He frowned slightly. No one had ever told him that before. No one had even accepted his arrival before. Everyone always begged him to not kill them, or tried to run, or tried to fight.
But she was different.
She stood up and walked towards him. "I'm ready to die." She paused. "I haven't lived long enough, but that doesn't matter. It's not up to me to decide how long I live."
She took another shaky breath, steadying herself, then did something he never had expected.
She ran up and hugged him.
He looked down at her, shock on his face. Then, slowly, he relaxed, so as not to startle her. He wrapped his metal arm around her back, cradling her head and shoulders with his right hand, drawing her towards him as she started to sob.
"I'm ready to die, I'm ready to die!" She repeated herself, over and over again. He cradled her, rocking back and forth, comforting her quietly.
She sighed, breathing deeply to calm herself. He looked down at her, meeting her gaze. She nodded slightly. "I'm ready to die."
She buried her face in his jacket. He sighed, frowning slightly, his expression then turning to one of sorrow.
The muscles in his right arm rippled, a muffled cracking sound echoing through the quiet house. Her body slumped against his, his quick reflexes catching her before she collapsed. He lowered her gently to the ground, cradling her head with his large hand, her once sparkling eyes faded, her soft, delicate features peaceful for the first time that night.
He looked at the man. Seeing him make no move, he walked towards the door to the backyard, where he faded back into the night.
She was dead.
Sorry!
I'll try to update soon, but I gave up fanfiction for the Catholic season of Lent, a time of fasting, preparation, and prayer before Easter, so no reading or writing fanfiction for forty days! So now I have a bunch of other stories that need updating, so I will be really busy!
Please check out my other stories! You can find them on my profile page.
What should the girl's name be?
Who is the hunter?
Please review!
Love,
mems1223