After The Fall, an avengers fanfic

After The Fall - A countdown to a meeting of Maria Hill & Natasha Romanoff

10.

You are a mistake, a murderer; only in a few breaths have you become such a monster in his eyes. Strange voices call you a miracle, tears are shed and tears are wiped away. He doesn't take you in his arms, he doesn't want to touch you, a few more breaths and you are nothing but a burden and reminder of his loss.

He takes you home, not out of love, out of greed. You have a purpose after all.

You are older now, calculating the number of breaths you have taken now would take too long. In his eyes you are a waste of precious oxygen, your existence a joke. The thoughts plague your mind as you take your first steps into a place you believed you should fear. High School turns out to be ok, you stay quiet and out of sight. Like you were taught, the only way you know how to be.

Already you impress with your understanding and knowledge. The teachers praise your parents for raising such a smart child. You bite your lip and hide yourself behind your hair. If only they knew. If only they could see.

Books are your only salvation from the invisible bruises and broken bones. You were raised to hide and not to speak. You are obedient and you stay this way, never knowing that there is another way to live.

You have no friends in this world. The only valuable possession a stuffed, tattered rabbit teddy that once belonged to her. The woman who gave her life so you could exist. The woman he mourns and the woman he hates you for.

Walking home you realize that you are lonely. Tired of watching the children play in the streets. Tired of their laughter which dissipates when you join in. You thought you gave up on the concept of happiness a long time ago.

You were wrong

A year has passed now since you started to learn your place in this world. He makes it clear one night that you will receive no money from him. A drunken rant about how you are a freeloader, old enough to earn your own money. No longer his problem. You have never been his problem in your eyes. At fault is the liquid that he pours down his neck every day. The same liquid that seems to give him the strength that he unleashes upon you. One night you had tried the same liquid. You fell ill and could not leave your bed for school. The only day you have ever taken off from the place of learning and safety.

You realize that there is no use in arguing your case. 12 years of age is hardly the time to be considering a career but you have no choice. The other children have started to notice your limited wardrobe. Not that you care. Maybe a job would be fun. Maybe you could make a friend.

A smile crosses your face the day you pass by the pet shop near your house. The old man always welcomes you with a smile when you pause by the window to admire the animals. For the first time in a long while you believe the smile to be genuine and it gives you the courage to ask him a question. An important question you might add.

Two days later you have a job. He sympathizes with you though you tell him nothing of your past. You do not need too. The scars are proof enough. He shows you around his pride and joy. In less than a month you are firm friends. It turns out you and him are not so different. Loneliness is your only company. So together you banish loneliness and let friendship take its place in the scars of your heart.

You meet another soul that day as well. His name is Trigger. He gives you wet kisses and fills you with glee. The feeling is alien at first but you learn to love it. Learn to crave it. The kindly old man says he is all yours. He understands that taking him back to hell is risky. He tells you that the chocolate brown Labrador puppy can stay with him. At first you are upset. It is not fair but you have known this all your life. You cry.

The old man smiles. He wipes away your tears and leaves you alone with the bouncing puppy for a moment. When he returns he holds a book. It is old and leather bound. The inside is immaculate. Each page full to the brim with pictures of the only family he ever knew. Soldiers pose throughout the pictures. You laugh and eventually the old man joins in. He tells you stories that fill you with emotions that are familiar, Fear. He then tells you more stories that replace this emotion with joy.

You chat for hours about the military and then he shows you another picture. He looks so young that you have trouble believing that it is him. He calls you cheeky and pinches your cheek. There is another in the picture. Trigger notices too and yaps happily in your lap. At your friends feet lies a dog. The dog looks just like trigger but is larger and fiercer. The kindly man smiles and tells you the dog saved his life. They were lifelong partners. He returned home from the war with the dog and that she fell asleep a long time ago. You notice the pain in his eyes. You do the one thing you wished someone would do for you. You hug him.

He looks shocked at first, reluctant to accept the embrace. Then he smiles and hugs you back. He picks you up like you are made of paper and spins you around. You are friends now. Nothing can ever change that.

You are halfway through school. People avoid you in the hallways, there must be a circle around you at all times. They dare not cross into your threshold for fear of what you might do. Rumors are spread, passed through hushed whispers. The rumours are that you are weird. That you live in the wild, raised by wolves. Not human at all. You would love nothing more than to point out the flaws but you are not that person. People are afraid of you because you are not afraid of them. This suits you just fine. You can hide and stay quiet that way.

He has made you this way, there is nothing they can do to hurt you more than he has, he will continue to break you. You stopped running from the fire now. With each tear you become sharper, each hit on your anvil tempers your blade. While he weakens from the chemicals he consumes, you only grow stronger.

Or so you think.

You are walking home from sanctuary, the pet shop, and back into hell. The half mile there and the half mile back are comforting. Occasionally you jog just to feel the breeze whip through your brown locks. Trigger runs at your side. He comes to hell with you now that he is old enough. The evil man protested at first but you are learning to threaten back. He has no choice. Besides Trigger keeps to himself and stays at the pet shop while she is at school. He only stays on weekends and at night. Trigger growls at him. He knows what demon consumes this man. He is not afraid of him.

It takes 15 years for people to notice your beauty. Girls that once whispered shoot you looks of jealously and the lies surrounding your existence grow again. Boys glance in your direction now too. A different motive behind each glare. Occasionally an obscene gesture, sometimes a leer. You pay no mind. You stay quiet and hide. Nothing is different for you so why would you change?

Unfortunately for you there is one other person who has noticed a change you cannot see. He hurts you less frequently now. The thrill has gone, you no longer react the way he liked. There are no more tears or screams of pain, just blank empty eyes. A hint that maybe you pity him and the thought sickens the vile twisted man. He hates the way you talk back now. Blames it on the old man you work for. If he could he would show the man a thing or two about fighting but he is a coward. He hits children, only hurts the vulnerable. He attacks those who cannot fight back. She has fallen out of this category now. He must bring her back.

It is summer and you have less than a year left until Graduation. You are excited. You know what you are going to do. Trigger knows too. You began your training with the kindly old man only a few months after he gave you a job. After he gave you freedom. He is the father you should have had. A man deserving of your love and affection. Something is wrong though. You start to notice it more often. He moves slower. Forgets more often. You repeat the same conversations frequently. You love him no less for it.

You are 17 now. Old enough to take on more responsibility. To pick up on the slack. So tantalisingly close to the college of your dreams. He is funding the veterinary course for you. He has no one left in this world to love but you. At first you refused. Your savings were not enough to cover the costs and asking the cruel man was out of the question. You spend more of your savings on buying the cruel man alcohol with the fake I.D you procured. It keeps him quiet like you once were. He is getting old too.

You busy yourself closing up the shop. Today has been hectic and the kindly old man has retired to the backroom for a break. You start to worry as the hour ticks over. This is unusual for him. Trigger starts to bark, he runs circles around your legs and knocks you down. You curse and growl back at the dog. Then it clicks. The pieces fall into place. Your feet are already coursing towards the door before you have chance to register your actions. What you find haunts you. It continues to haunt you. He lies still on the floor.

You watch the ambulance leave. The sky is growing dark, it matches your expression. Matches the bag they covered him in. You slide down the wall of the shop. Trigger whines. His tail is as still as your heart. You cry. You are an expert at this. This time it is different, the sobs that heave through your body are painful. You yell at the top of your voice, screams of anguish and denial. Trigger watches you. He waits for the calm after the storm. Your only friend has gone from this world and it is not fair. God is it cruel. You give up.

Then a wet kiss is planted on your cheek. He laps the tears away and nuzzles your cheek. You break down again. But you are not alone this time. You have not lost your only friend in this hell. How dare you think that. You let him comfort you, feel his gentle nature push away the tears.

You sit there for hours. Until the rain begins to fall from the clouds. You know you should move but the warm and comforting scent of the old man's shop leaves you paralysed on the floor. Trigger curls up in your lap. He stays awake with you. You feel his gentle heart beating through the soft fur, it chases the insanity away. You reach for the leather bound book and flick through the worn pages. You asked him to see it so often that he left it on the shelf by the counter, never bothering to hide it away.

You find the picture you love the most and take it from the book. You fold it and place it in the breast pocket. This is all you will take from your old friend. It stays by your heart.

You have graduated now. The only one to attend on your behalf was Trigger. You laughed when you reached the podium to accept the scroll. You laughed because you were nearly free. One more month and you are 18. Old enough to leave.

You do not know where you will go. Anywhere is better than the hell you have been forced to live in. You accept the scroll and Trigger barks. Dubious looks are given but no one cares anymore. No one has ever cared. You leave the stage and do not bother to linger. Clutching the scroll and photo you hold so dear. Trigger bounding happily after you.

Like graduation, your birthday is spent with Trigger. You spend it at the park. You would go to the beach but a car is expensive and you need the money for college. Your old friend was true to his word, his will left you with just enough to cover the costs. He tells you to live your dreams. Do whatever you want in this world and above all learn to love, learn to let someone in. He said that Trigger would protect you. He told you not to be angry with the world for your life.

You began to have doubts about college. It started one night in your small dark room. The picture you held close was drawing you in for something more than affectionate memories. You ran your finger across the smart uniform your old friend was wearing. You gently stroked the dog at his feet and looked to Trigger. He barked and pawed at your face. You wanted something more in this world. You craved something more. Adventure and stories like the old man had told you so many years ago.

A visit to his final resting place adds further doubt. He was laid to rest in a memorial garden for fallen soldiers. You cried each time you visited. Then you laid down the fresh flowers and saluted the marble that bore his name. The marble bore something more that you held close to your heart. A phrase was set in the gleaming stone

'If You Do Not Stand For Something, You Will Fall For Anything'

Your mind was made in that moment. You would stand for the same ideals that your old friend had once stood for. You smile and call Trigger to you. He senses the calm around you and barks happily. You will not part with him.

The perfect pair you will make.

You enrol in the military shortly after your visit. They inform you that soon you will ship out to begin your training. You made it clear what role you wanted. You would not part with Trigger. They fought you at first but if there is one thing you can convey is strength and determination of will. The recruiter called you the next day and gave you the good news. Trigger would have to undergo training as well but you were a dynamic duo. The two of you could overcome anything.

Your last day in hell is uneventful. You have already packed a few meagre possessions that you own. Soon the army bus will arrive to pick you up and take you to the training camp. It's a few days drive but you are excited. Trigger is too. He takes your stuffed tattered rabbit and runs around the room. You chase him laughing and gently tease the toy from his mouth. You both share the rabbit. As a consequence it has become more worn. You replaced the stuffing too many times to count. You love the rabbit no less. You love Trigger no less. You smile widely and ruffle the fur of the dog before closing the door behind you for the final time.

He is passed out drunk in the living room again. You told him yesterday that you were leaving. Told him he would have to find someone else to torture and torment. Oddly you were not mad when he lashed out and bruised your arm. You pitied him. You pitied the man that rampaged through your childhood and left you so guarded and untrusting. You felt sorry for him because he had failed to ruin you. He was more broken than you would ever be. You found yourself wondering how things may have been different if your mother had survived. This thought was no stranger to you. You loved a woman you had never met yet you hated the man that lay at your feet in a tangled mess. You probably should have taken the second hit instead of moving and letting him collapse against the wall. You decided the choice would have been unwise for fear Trigger would finally snap and defend you. You knew if that happened he would hurt Trigger and then you would finally have a reason to kill the bastard. You didn't want to throw your life away for such a waste of humanity.

You check your watch and smile. Trigger is in the front garden. He waits with anticipation. Guarding your possessions which are sat by the gate. You sigh at the sight of your abusive father. In a moment of empathy you lift the man up into his chair and leave him a note explaining that he needed to contact the pension office. With your absence he would need to claim for other allowances. You leave him a hundred dollar bill. It was the only sign of compassion you could give the man.

Turning to leave you feel his hand grab hold of you arm. He jerks it violently and you call out in surprise. He tells you that you are nothing. You will never amount to anything. No one will ever love you. He calls you a whore. He calls you worse things than that. His words fall on deaf ears. You have heard this all before. In a moment of bravery you wrestle your arm from his grasp and laugh in his face. You tell him to look in the mirror. You remind him who is truly worthless. Then he does the one thing you feared. The one thing you took those classes for. He throws his weight at you and pins you down. You cry out. Trigger barks and scratches at the door. His hands fall upon your body. Groping and touching places he should not. The stench of his breath and body make you heave. He starts to unbuckle the belt from his tight trousers and fumbles.

You see your opportunity as his hands go under your garments. He is distracted by your body and you let the anger you kept buried ride to the surface. He yelps in surprise when you bite down hard on his nose until you feel his blood. It sickens you what he is doing. It is another memory that haunts you. You use a manoeuvre you practised at the self defence class. It works. He screams and pulls away from you in pain. You clamber to your feet and bring your knee up. It collides with his face and knocks him out cold. You stand there in silence for a few moments. Watching his chest rise and fall steadily. It would be easy to go to the kitchen and retrieve a knife. It would be easy to slay this monster. Stop him from ever hurting anyone again. You decide to leave him to his fate. Without you to buy him alcohol and cook his meals he will be dead soon anyway. The thought is sadistic and evil but for him you will allow it. Weeks you will shower and never get his touch off you. Years will heal but the scars will still be there.

Trigger continues to bark wildly. You hear the horn from the ride that will take you from this madness. You snap out of it and leave.

You start your life again

Your life is now a whirlwind of action. You court death regularly now but with Trigger by your side you never regret your decision. You both worked bomb disposal. Trigger found them, you disarmed. You earned yourself a reputation as a tough nut. You kept calm under pressure. No, you thrived under pressure. You worked IED disposal for barely a year before you got the promotion. People noticed you more often now. You had friends . . . yet you still had no love. Trigger was the only part of you that you would give affection. So when that fateful day came, you lost the control you worked so hard to maintain.

It started out like any other day on the base. You played fetch with Trigger while your commander watched with a bemused expression. He told you that you were a wasted talent working bomb disposal. Despite your protests he recommended you for transfer. You were a prime candidate for an upcoming special operations team. If accepted you would have to part with Trigger and leave him in the care of your brothers in arms. The thought did not sit well with you. You refused each time the commander brought you the papers. Nothing would keep you from Trigger. The angel of death disagreed.

You went out on patrol. The desert village was its usual dreary self so you relaxed in the back of the Humvee. Trigger laid his head in your lap. You kissed him on his nose and laughed when he sneezed in response. Your squad mates laughed too and affectionately patted him. Then the explosion threw your Humvee back. The squad in front of you were obliterated in an instant. A tangled mess of human body parts and debris scattered everywhere. You lay in a heap on the upturned roof of the Humvee. The stench of blood and burning flesh flooded your senses. The gunfire started when you opened your eyes.

You crawled out from the wreckage. Trigger took hold of a patch of fabric on your arm and pulled. He pulled you from the burning Humvee. You were injured. Shrapnel embedded into your leg. The blood pulsed out in quick bursts. Femoral artery. You heard your commander call out. His voice distorted by the ringing that serenaded the pain. He helped Trigger drag you to cover and tied up your leg. Whatever remained of your squad exchanged fire with the enemy hiding in the houses. You sat there against the yellow stone wall and sipped at the air. Sniper breathing he yelled. Sniper breathing.

Trigger whined and sniffed at the wound. He lapped at the blood. Trying to help you. You smiled despite the pain and ruffled his fur affectionately. The chaos continued around you but you both ignored it. You shared a moment of understanding before the bullet tore through his chest. He fell into your arms and whimpered. You both gaze into each other's eyes. One last sign of affection. His fall shut and for a moment your heart stops again.

Later on people would call you a hero. They recounted the story in better detail than you ever could. They spoke of the moment your commander was struck down. Your squad fell all around you. The enemy fell too. They told of the moment you clambered to your feet and lay down suppressive fire. They boasted how you saved your commander from the jaws of death. How you dragged him and Triggers body into the only undamaged Humvee and drove back to base. How you did so after losing nearly three pints of blood was still a mystery to them. They called you a walking miracle.

What they did not speak of is the moment you lost control. The reason why you slaughtered the enemy with such disregard for your own life. You were forced to watch another friend fall. Powerless to save him but strong enough to hold him in his final moments. You made a promise to join him soon. You had a job to do first. You told him you loved him more than life itself. You made him promise to save you a space in the afterlife. He licked you one last time on the cheek and barked. His tail wagged slowly until finally it lay still. You watched the life drain from his eyes. Watched a piece of your heart break and go with him.

You had no time to mourn his loss. No time to wonder if you could have stopped the stray bullet. They whispered behind your back when you returned with his body and the commander. Soldiers all around you cried, some even fell to their knees at the sight of their fallen four legged friend. Trigger had made a big impact on the base. He improved morale wherever he went.

They waited until you were back from the hospital. Back from the surgery. They waited for you to be able to walk again. They stood in silence as you took to the podium where you were awarded medals that meant nothing to you. Your commander. The man you saved. He became your rock. The support that kept you going and pushed you onwards.

You buried Trigger with the photograph of the old man and his dog. You wanted him to be able to find them both in the afterlife. You saluted. A proud but forlorn look upon your face. You did not flinch when the guns were fired in his honour. Did not cry when his name was etched into the memorial stone along with the names of your fallen brothers.

You held his collar in your hands. A single tear only fell from your eyes to the dirt below when the memorial song rang from the speakers and every soldier saluted. You were broken not beaten.

You are 23 now. Battle worn and hardened from loss. The gaping wound left by Trigger has mended itself leaving another scar on your heart. Your commander is now your brother and leader. You were both selected to join the special operations team. Your climb through the ranks was fast, the speed almost unheard of. No one could deny your right to it. For you are a warrior whose soul was tempered in the heat of battle. You are obedient. A product of your childhood. But you are fierce and ruthless. A product of your loss.

You put fire into those around you. Your team look up to you. Your leader trusts your judgement. They become friends you can call on. A concept you thought was long gone from your vocabulary. You share happy memories with them. You follow them into the fight. You save them from the angel of death. You tell her to kiss your arse; she will not take anyone else from you. The angel runs from you now. You have worked too hard. You have survived too much . . . and she is frightened by your power

Years pass and your team is disbanded. Your job fulfilled. You have travelled many places. Fought many battles. Countless lives saved by your actions. Tides turned in wars that only a few knew were waging. You feel lost without your brothers and reflect.

You were called Nest. Each of you had a bird as your codename. At first you had been apprehensive and sceptical. The name Raven sounded foreign to you. Your most trusted comrade and friend took the name Sparrow. You teased him endlessly about it. He always proved his worth and shut you up. You would be sad to see them go. Sad to return to the base and a new deployment.

On your final night together you all took turns in telling stories of past missions. You laughed with your brothers. Scowled when they called you their little sister and even brawled when the alcohol fuelled playful fist fights. Your squad motto was a testament to your old friend and to Trigger.

'If You Do Not Stand For Something, You Will Fall For Anything'

It was something you all now carried in your heart.

Goodbyes were said. Promises to keep in touch exchanged. You even shared a kiss with Sparrow and then later a bed. You were nervous at first. Fighting off painful memories of the man that abused your very soul. Sparrow made you forget everything. The one thing he could not to do was make you love again.

No. That would come many years later. When you least expected it.

An intelligence agency had sought after you, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. They were impressed by your file. Your climb through the ranks and ability to lead was valued. You were to become a spy. You scrutinised the agency, even mocked the name. You were unsure of how you would fit in as a soldier of war. Then you heard their founding word spoken from the lips of a man who you would later trust with your life. As he would with you.

'Protection'

And now here you are many years later. You are the deputy director of the most powerful force across the globe. You earned a reputation as the queen of spies. Forged from continued hard work and dedication in memory of those you have lost. Happiness continues to elude you however. You feel lost again among the sea of faces. You miss your old squad. You miss the old man. You miss Trigger. But you persevere, you cannot afford to fall again.

Then you see her for the first time and your heart skips one vital beat. Your eyes meet and you both share a look. It feels like she is staring into your soul. You watch her escorted away in restraints. She does not fight the agents. She merely looks back and watches you for a moment. You recognise what she recognises in you. A painful past. A history of loss. You stand there dumbfounded. An aching feeling long absent from your heart returns for a moment. You continue to stand there and watch her red hair disappear from view. She shoots you a coy smile. When you look back to the jet you swear you hear a bark and the old man laughing. Smiling you stare off into the distance and reflect.

You are Maria Hill, one of the most feared and respected women on this earth and soon you will fall in love with a spider.