Rescue Mission
Segment 2
It hardly felt that she'd drifted off for a few minutes when an abrupt touch pressed on her shoulder, at first in the dream, then in reality. Jessica jerked a little, tension of recalling her situation arising until Agent Barton came into view once again, gently nudging her awake. "Time to head out, Miss Evans," he mumbled, his warm hand settling against her arm for a moment before withdrawing again.
Blinking back bonds of drowsiness tying her to the soft mattress, Jessica willed herself to sit up and reach for her purse and jacket. In fact, she was about ready to slip the jacket on, as the chill of the night had finally caught up to her, when Clint stepped up slipping something out of a bag slung about his shoulder.
"Here," he offered a black hoodie rolled up in his hand, "wear the hood up until I tell you you're good to put it down, okay?" With that, she set her own possessions down and hurriedly slipped the hoodie on over her head, covering easily her loose blouse.
Clint's eyes glanced down briefly, as though somehow affording her privacy, before he shifted toward the door to once again unlock it. "We'll have to eat on the way," he stated, glancing back at her for a reaction.
Jessica bunched her hair behind her head and slipped on the hood, following his steps to the door after hugging her possessions. She offered a quick nod in response to meeting his gaze, merely doing her best to be a good client.
Clint looked back at her upon feeling her draw behind. He smiled a little, acknowledging her readiness. "Let's go." With that, he pulled the door open, calmly slipping on sunglasses as they strode down the hall.
They moved straight through the lobby, and the clerk didn't seem to mind, Jessica observed. He must've already checked out? The chill of early morning swept within her hood and through her uncombed hair, the bite of lingering night sending a shiver along her skin. Much as she'd love to be an early bird, Jessica had always thought no human being should be up before the sun.
A normal, tan Sedan – about as inconspicuous as one could get in the middle of France – was the vehicle Clint led her to. Soon they were in, with him driving and her slipping on a seatbelt, luckily escaping any traffic – one advantage to being up when no one else was. After a couple minutes of settling in, Clint tilted his head to gesture toward the back. "Should be a Ziploc'd plate back there with breakfast if you're hungry."
Jessica smiled a little, glancing back at the seat but remaining too stiff for any other action. "Thank you, but…I don't think I could eat right now…" Her eyes lowered to her hands uneasily, trying very hard to keep a brave face for the poor guy.
Clint glanced at her a few times but hesitated before speaking. "You're safe with me, Miss Evans. Maybe more safe than you think."
Jessica lifted her gaze to him, mouth opening to quickly counter the reaction.
"I'm gonna get you home," Clint finished, coolly meeting her anxious gaze.
She quickly shook her head, speaking up to clarify. "No, I didn't meant to…imply that…" The glint in his eyes, a bit softened and light despite his seriousness, trailed off her words. He hadn't thought she'd been implying anything; he'd only been trying to reassure her.
With a hesitant smile, she nodded again, eyes lowering. "I…can't thank you enough; really not sure what I would've done." She chuckled half-humorlessly at the absolute truth.
Clint smirked subtly, vibrant eyes back on the road. "Thank me when you're safely home and that creep's in jail."
Jessica laughed a little wearily, shifting to rest her head back on the seat. Drifting into her thoughts, she grew silent.
Glancing at her once more, he kept driving, allowing the silence to remain.
Five or ten minutes passed with the awkward…absolutely nothing being said. Surely there is something I could talk about, but how classified is he…just…as a person? Well, I guess we'll find out. Here goes. With an internal wince, a new conversation sprung from her good intention of getting to know the mysterious agent. "Ssso…" she cleared her throat. Weak start with a crackly voice. "You, uh, go on missions like this all the time?" she casually asked, eyebrows furrowing as she realized just how much she sounded like a goob asking.
Clint glanced at her when she talked, face momentarily blank toward her question. "'Like this,' maybe not. Missions, absolutely." His eyes crinkled when he looked toward her again, seemingly easygoing toward the conversation, to her happy surprise.
Eyes brightening with interest – she'd always been a fan of cop shows and mystery novels as a teenager – she shifted in her seat while continuing. "You must travel around a lot then." Carefully stepping around potentially classified information, she went for a broad question. "Do you like it?"
A bit more of a smile formed with another glance away from the road. "Oh, yeah," he answered easily, "Traveling's great. A little less great at 5 in the morning," the passing comment was accompanied with a nod toward the car clock: 5:13, "but I still enjoy it."
Jessica laughed a little. The sleepiness drooping her eyes alone told her she was up too early, but to have an agent comment on it made him feel a bit more…human? "Yeah, I…I know what you mean. Coming to France seemed just…so incredible to me…" Her eyes grew more animated with further thought into the topic. "Not quite the country I've been hoping to see, but…it's still beautiful."
Clint glanced at her several times through her talking, but a light smirk formed with a spark of curiosity. "What kinda country were you hopin' to see?"
Jessica smiled, gazing up at the copper streetlights and endless array of massive French buildings. So much the opposite of her answer to Clint's question. "Somewhere…open and fresh. A place you can breathe, you know?" She glanced in his direction with a more relaxed smile. "I've always liked the idea of Australia or...well, definitely Ireland." Her lips pressed together, looking to him for a response.
"I've been," he nodded with little pause. "They're both exactly that. Open, fresh, almost like an alien planet but somehow exactly the same." His eyes crinkled, glancing toward her as though recognizing her passion for the subject.
Jessica grinned a little, easing into the conversation more and more. "Well, I definitely have to get down there then!" She paused, shrugging toward him. "So out of everywhere you've been, what was your favorite place?" Her head tilted, curiously watching him.
Clint focused on making a turn across the busy intersection but looked at her once again when finished. "Uhh, I'd have to say Canada." He smirked as though she might've thought his answer was odd.
Jessica's eyes crinkled with surprise but genuine interest. "Really?" she grinned, "Why is that?"
Clint shook his head, hardly on a long search to explain. "The scenery was…breath-taking. The people were probably the world's friendliest."
"Hm…I'd love to see that…" she commented, drifting a bit more into thought as her tension from reality gradually receded.
Clint grunted a little in response, shrugging. "Maybe you'll get there some day…I'm here to ensure you get the chance, Miss Evans."
Jessica softened her smile, considering a moment. "You know, you can just call me Jessica," she offered politely, frowning as potential repercussions questioned the statement, "Unless that's…too informal for your mission or…"
She stopped there with a small laugh when he glanced in her direction with a slightly teasing smirk. "Generally not wise, considering we're undercover." He exhaled with exaggeration, drawing a bit more of a laugh from her.
"Ohh," she shook her head, eyebrows furrowing in playful shame, "That's a good point. I take it back, you can't."
He shrugged, his tone returning to mere friendliness. "I could call you Lynne."
Jessica's eyebrows raised at first. Had she told him her middle name? Oh…mission file..duh. "That would work," she smiled, recovering quickly from the surprise. With that she relaxed into her seat, the awkwardness diminishing as a crust of orange awakened amidst the once starry night sky. The sun was finally rising.
