"I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil."
― J.R.R. Tolkien
I hadn't dreamed of that night in a long time. I'd seen it in the day, of course, because it only took a moment for it to be painted on my eyelids, but nighttime always brought it back full force. And when it did, I could feel it everywhere.
I don't think I even registered the car coming, but Sean was quicker than I was. I was frozen in place, watching the tires skid across the black asphalt and onto the sidewalk. I would have been struck directly in the chest if Sean hadn't pushed me away, his palms warm even through my shirt and his force more than I expected.
I think I cried out, but it was drowned out by the screeching that would in the future make me cringe every time a car skidded to a halt. I heard the bump afterward, and tried to convince my mind that it was a statue or a stop sign or an animal.
It was stupid, but the first thing I noticed when I stood up was that I'd crushed my ice cream cone in my hand. I could feel the vanilla rivers bleeding through my fingertips, and then I felt the pain shooting up the arm I was holding it in. I was covered in dirt and ice cream and blood and couldn't see my brother.
Why couldn't I see him?
I realized I was crying. I realized that I was screaming. I realized that the driver of the car was screaming as well, except I couldn't hear her words. She'd stopped when she hit a tree, one of the big leafy oaks that had been here since I was little. There were leaves and twigs everywhere.
She was so young.
Her hair was blonde and messy and thrown into a bun that fell down her shoulders when she threw open her door. She couldn't stay on her feet, and I knew she'd been drinking.
It was strange, but all I could think was that her life was over.
And then I heard Sean.
I was a med school student. I was going to be a doctor. I could save him. I repeated it over and over as I stumbled to him. He was in front of the car. That's why I couldn't see him. He was between the car and the tree, and my brother was not on his feet, my brother was stuck between metal and nature and everything was wrong wrong wrong, and why did he push me?
I knew the names of bones, I knew the names of wild diseases, I knew the treatments for breaks and sprains and failing organs. I was going to be a doctor. I could save him.
"Are you alright?"
The stupid boy, the stupid boy with the innocent eyes but the knowing grin, the stupid boy who I read books to before bed, the stupid boy who was never embarrassed of me, even with his friends, even when he was a teenager, the stupid boy asked me if I was alright when he was pinned together with a car.
I could hear the girl on her cell phone, so at least she had some semblance of the right thing to do, but I was staring at Sean with his blood-streaked face and limp arms and legs that I couldn't see beneath metal that was so shiny it was a shame that it was so crooked and twisted.
"I'm fine you idiot," I said, my words jumbled and frantic, "How are you? Can you feel it? Can you move your legs?"
He shook his head, his hair matted with sweat so it didn't sway like it usually did. I realized that my panic had muted his calm. I was going to be a doctor. I could save him. I needed to be assuring.
"You're going to be okay," I told him, squeezing his sweaty hand and trying to keep my voice even. "It's not that bad."
"I feel kind of numb."
"That's normal, just shock, your body's way of protecting you. The ambulance is on the way, and hopefully you'll get sedated and you won't ever have to feel anything."
But I didn't hear the sirens yet. I knew it had only been minutes, if not seconds, but it felt like I'd been standing here for hours and where the hell was everybody? Why had the world not stopped to help when my world was falling apart?
"I should..." I trailed off, thinking of what I could possibly do, and then thinking that I'd have to see it in order to be any sort of help. "I'm going to try and take a look."
Sean didn't respond but I squeezed his hand again and took a breath and hoped that I wouldn't vomit as I looked to where a car had severed my brother's body.
I was going to be a doctor.
I could save him.
I could save him.
I could save him.
We were in an empty room. I hadn't slept much after my dream, so I probably had dark circles under my red-rimmed eyes. I purposely didn't look too closely in the mirror, and Dylan had seen worse.
My stomach jolted when he came in. For some reason, it didn't cross my mind that he wouldn't be able to stay with me. That brought the total amount of people I knew here to one.
Dylan smiled sadly as he stood beside me, tapping my chin.
"I wish you could stay."
"I gotta get outta here, kid. Not all of us are quite such a wanted commodity."
"They told you?"
I didn't know how he'd react to finding out about my...mutant-ness. I didn't even know how I felt about it. I knew a lot of people in this world were sensitive or downright angry about such issues, and Dylan was never that type, but I was still nervous.
"They told me as little as possible. Basically that you're good with calming people down?" He winked and I felt relief flood my chest. "How come you never told me?"
"I didn't know. It's weird really, thinking back...certain things make sense. I thought it was just my spectacular charm."
Dylan smiled, but for once didn't have a snarky comment back. He reached forward and pulled me to him. I almost stumbled with my bad leg, but kept my crutches in tact as I inhaled. He didn't smell like himself, but he was still Dylan, and I squeezed back.
"I don't want you to leave."
"I have to get back to the kids," he said, pulling back but keeping his arms draped around my neck. "And they probably aren't too keen about keeping useless people on board."
"I'm scared."
He put his hands on my shoulders now, the flecks in his eyes showing in the light.
"They can't make you do anything you don't want to, Scar. But if I know you, I know you want to help people. Just...do your best."
I thought of my brother. I'd done my best that day...
"What if my best is the worst?" I asked, my mouth feeling dry and my eyes feeling wet.
"It's not," Dylan said firmly. "This will be over before you know it and we'll go home together, real home." He grinned now, trying to reassure me. "This is the fanciest, scariest, most legitimate place I've ever seen. And I think the people here match that. They'll come out on top. Just don't get yourself in too much trouble, okay?"
His tone was subdued, but I could sense the anxiety behind it. Here was the boy who just days before was going to fight Bruce Banner over hurting my feelings.
"What if I fail everyone?" I whispered, knowing that even a false comfort from Dylan was still a comfort.
He saw through it, echoing my every fear and bringing my dream back into the present.
"You didn't fail Sean, Scarlett. He died. He wanted to save you, and now you get to save all these people."
I couldn't speak anymore. I just pressed my head to his chest and he kissed the top of my head before pulling away. Without my knowledge, an agent had appeared behind us, his stance ready to move.
Dylan waved half-heartedly and nodded at the agent who spun on his heel.
"Be careful, Scar. If you can, call me."
I nodded at him as he turned away.
"Dyl?" I called, just as he reached the door.
He looked back at me with his eyebrows raised.
"Can you write my mom?"
"Of course. What should I say?"
Don't tell her where I am...just..." I trailed off. "Say I'm alright and I miss home."
"Alright, I will." He smiled sadly, but nodded his head.
"And Dyl?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell her I love her."
"Anger."
It was harder than I thought when I was thinking about it. It was like bottling the clench of a jaw and the pressure in your chest. It was harnessing a feeling, something that you understood when you felt it but was harder to describe, and even harder to emulate with just a word as inspiration.
"Focus on memories, if that helps. Moments you've felt anger. Then push it toward me."
Agent Hallows was nice enough, if not a little demanding. Agent Romanoff had accompanied me here, who despite her good looks and rough exterior actually made me feel a little more at ease. She'd introduced Agent Hallows who barely said hello before he pushed me into practice. I noticed Agent Romanoff smirk as she left.
I guess we were under a limited time frame, considering the whole Loki and cube business was sort of happening as we spoke.
"You're not focusing, are you, Miss Walker?"
"Scarlett," I corrected, again, seeing his mouth quirk up as I said it automatically.
"Use the anger you're feeling toward me, Miss Walker."
I rolled my eyes and did as he said, imagining swirling memories of fights and silent treatments as a cloud and pushing it toward his body.
"Good. Although I don't know if that's from you or my own frustration."
I frowned at his almost then not quite compliment and shifted in my seat. My crutches were leaning against the table in between us, but my leg still ached. They had decreased my dosage as not to interfere with my abilities, and I was feeling it.
"Happiness."
That one wasn't as easy to conjure up memories for. I delved into my past, because that's where most of those feelings were for me. I thought of carnivals and birthdays and my college graduation. I thought of Dylan throwing my hat in the air at the after party. I thought of Sean giving me a toast about med school. And without really meaning to, I thought of kissing Bruce.
It was harder to push it this time, because I'd tried so hard with anger. I could feel beads of sweat gather on my forehead. It didn't help that I was staring at Agent Hallows and he had absolutely no expression on his face. None. Just blank, dark eyes and a skinny, straight mouth.
"Alright," he said, shrugging. "I don't feel overjoyed, but I don't feel sad either."
"You asked for happiness, not overjoyed," I growled, wiping my face.
"I'm doing this for own good, Miss Walker," Agent Hallows said, leaning forward in his seat. He was wearing a suit and his tie dragged on the table as he spoke. "They're going after Loki as we speak, so we need to be ready for anything."
"I'm not complaining," I said, straightening my spine and ignoring the jolts up pain up my leg.
"Good. Now...grief."
That one was easy. I didn't have to think of any memories, because I carried grief in my bones.
Agent Hallows face changed then. It was no longer blank and stoic, but twisted into a frown. I saw him take a deep breath and hold up his hand to stop.
"Good. That was...strong."
I looked away from his imploring gaze. He was taking pity on me, I could feel it. My mind flickered to my dream. The worst feeling of it was the hope that I had every time I dreamed. Because no matter how much I knew the outcome, for one split second, my mind convinces me that I could do something.
"Miss Walker—"
"Excuse me."
I didn't know if it was allowed, but I fled the room, passing a guard at the door as I went. I guess I needed a babysitter these days, but he didn't follow me at least. I went as fast as I could with my crutches, but pretty soon I felt my lungs constrict and nausea rise in my stomach.
I pressed my head against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut. My nerves jumped when my crutches clattered to the floor, but pretty soon I slid down beside them.
I don't know how I long I sat there. It was hard to measure time when you could barely breathe. My vision swirled, but with all the white and glass walls, I just felt blinded. I closed my eyes more often than not, but I couldn't feel grounded.
I was sweating and gaping when someone touched my arm.
"Scarlett?"
Bruce was awkward and concerned and unshaven and perfect. It made my breathing even worse.
"What can I do?"
I shook my head. I didn't know—I couldn't think. I wanted off this flying capsule of imminent doom, I wanted to go home, I wanted to sleep in my bed and feel sorry for myself.
Scarlett didn't look so good. She was pale and shining with sweat and Bruce thought her chest would cave in from her breathing so hard. He wanted to help her—to dose her with something, rock her back and forth, but he couldn't think of what to do.
Her eyes were wide and scared.
"Slap her."
Bruce looked up at the voice above them, which belonged to Natasha. Her face was determined and her tone forceful.
"I am not going to slap her," Bruce hissed, looking back at Scarlett.
To his surprise and dread, Scarlett nodded at him. Her eyes were pleading—bright green and pleading and he was not immune to them in any sense.
So, with as little force as possible and gathering pain in his stomach, he slapped her.
She looked surprised, but the panic dropped from her face. She stopped shaking too, and his guilt hit him full force when he realized the color was returning the cheek he had touched.
"I am so so so sorry," he said, grabbing her face in his hands.
And then she did something he didn't expect.
She laughed.
"I can't...believe...you did that," she choked out.
He dropped his hands and gaped at her. He had just slapped her—slapped her for god sakes, and she was laughing at him. He felt guilt and amusement mingled in one.
"You told me to!"
"I didn't think you would!"
Natasha shook her head behind them.
"I've got to go. We're sending out the Captain."
Bruce was vaguely aware of her walking away, but he was still focused on Scarlett's ringing laughter. He had never heard her laugh much more than a chuckle, and it was strong and infectious.
"You're not mad?" he asked tentatively.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I needed that. And I needed this."
She was still chuckling. And then, because there was nothing else to do, and the guilt was turning to warmth, he joined her.
Sorry this took so long! I had a bit of writer's block. Forgive me? :)
P.S. Thank you to all guests/anonymous reviewers who I can't answer with a message! You are all amazing.
