Chapter Eleven – Memories
They settled into a sort-of routine. They'd spend part of the day out in the woods or down by the river – Rumlow taught Skye a hell of a lot more about wilderness survival than she'd ever wanted to know, really, but it was rather fascinating. She even caught a fish, on the third morning down at the river, a hefty salmon, and he cheered her. And then made her kill and clean it herself. She threw a handful of fish guts at him in retaliation which he dodged, laughing. The grilled salmon steaks tasted really good later, though.
The rest of the day, they'd spend in the basement, Skye using the weights for a little while until she'd just sit and watch with fascination while he worked. He was building a chest of drawers, again plain but functional, but every edge perfectly aligned, beautifully finished so that when it was built there would be no sharp edges, so snagging drawers. His precision and attention to detail reminded her of May. She said as much, one afternoon six days into her stay at the cabin.
Rumlow's mouth quirked in that little half-smile she was coming to know so well. "Thank you," he murmured without looking up.
"Do you know her?" Skye couldn't help but ask.
"Yes."
"Well?"
"I used to."
"How well?" Skye suddenly felt a bit jealous. Rumlow and May had to be very close in age. Had they been lovers? Men did find May very attractive, she knew, even Ward had chosen May over her – which was a good thing, Skye reminded herself. A very good thing.
Rumlow glanced up at her, raised one of his expressive black eyebrows at the look on her face. "Not as well as you're thinking. May and I were in the Academy together. Different tracks because I was always intended for STRIKE and she was a Specialist. We were both top of our respective classes. Had a bit of a friendly rivalry thing going on."
"Oh," Skye suddenly felt a bit silly. "What was she like? Coulson knew her before – whatever the Bahrain thing was that she won't talk about – and said she had a bit of a wild sense of humour."
"She did." Rumlow's mouth curved in a reminiscent smile. He set down the rasp in his hands and leaned back against the workbench. "We used to spar together quite a lot. She was the only one who could give me a challenge, really, we were both hand-to-hand experts before we ever came to SHIELD. This one time, she bribed another trainee to put itching powder in my jocks before a bout."
"No!" Skye's eyes flew wide. And then she started to giggle.
"Oh, yes she did. By the time we were three minutes in I felt like my nuts were on fire. The funny thing was, I realised it had to have been her somehow and accused her, and she started giggling so hard she lost the bout. I managed to pin her before running for the showers with steam coming out of my ears."
Skye laughed so hard she ended up on the floor rocking with laughter, tears coming out of her eyes. Rumlow was chuckling heartily right along with her, and she couldn't help but think how very differently Ward would probably have reacted. He'd never have been able to laugh at himself the way Brock was doing. Ward would probably have waited his chance and then quietly murdered the perpetrator of the prank.
"Oh, God," Skye wiped her eyes with the towel she'd been using to avoid getting sweat all over the weights machine. "Thanks, Brock. I needed a good laugh. I wish I'd known May back then."
"She was a good friend." He picked up the rasp again, frowned over a knot in the wood. "Bahrain changed her."
"Do you know what really happened?"
He hesitated. "Not all of it. The STRIKE team were dispatched to clean up the situation. We arrived just as she came out of the building with the last hostage. So I saw the aftermath. What she'd done inside, what she'd seen. It was ugly, Skye. I'm not surprised it changed her. That could change anyone."
She didn't ask any more because it was clear he didn't want to talk about it. She sat on the floor and did some stretches instead, enjoying watching him work, the smooth economy of motion, the careful precision.
"May would hate me even more if she knew this," Rumlow said suddenly, surprising Skye since he'd been silent for a while as he worked, "but Bahrain was part of what drove me to HYDRA."
"What?" Skye blinked. "How?"
"Well partly in that the shrink I had to see afterwards – considering the mess, we all had to – was HYDRA. Messed badly with my head, I'm pretty sure now, convinced me that SHIELD was all fucked up when it really wasn't. But also, they convinced me that if things had been run their way, Bahrain would never have happened. It would never have got that far, the terrorists would have been taken care of long before."
"I see," Skye said. And she really did. "HYDRA seem to be very good at making people believe they are what they want them to be."
"That's a good way to put it." He looked at her, and she winced to see the pain in his eyes. "I wish to God I hadn't believed them, Skye, I really do. There's a lot of red in my ledger I can never wipe out because I fell for their bullshit."
"I'm sorry," Skye said softly. "I do understand. I was wrong about the Rising Tide."
"Yeah, but how many deaths are on your conscience because of your mistakes?" He looked down at his hands, large and capable, held them out towards her. "Like Lady Macbeth, I can only see the bloodstains."
She couldn't help but get up and go to him, taking his hands in her smaller ones. "Don't do that to yourself, Brock."
Despite their situation, she'd come to believe Rumlow was basically a good man, if a troubled one, trying to do his best in a world he'd long since lost control over. He could never go back to what he had been, either SHIELD or HYDRA; the one because of what he'd done and the other because he no longer believed in their cause – and the fact that HYDRA would probably just hand him over to their horror-movie scientists to dissect. He planned to isolate himself from the world, she'd realised, once he'd earned enough money as a mercenary to do just that.
She even suspected he'd taken the job to kidnap and hold her because it didn't involve killing, wouldn't put more blood on his hands. Ward and Cal didn't want her dead, after all.
"You're not a bad person, Brock."
"You say that, you who's here against your will." He laughed bitterly, pulled his hands from hers and turned his back on her.
"We've all done things we regret." She hesitated. "It's how we try to make amends that counts."
He didn't respond. Just carried on working quietly, and after a while she sighed and sat back down. The silence grew almost oppressive after a while, though, and Skye asked suddenly;
"Have you heard from Ward and Cal?"
His shoulders stiffened. "Yes."
"Really?" her head jerked up. He came down to the basement without her sometimes, to use the electronics she knew he had to be keeping in the gun safe. He always ordered her to stay upstairs when he did that and frankly she didn't want to disturb the fragile peace that seemed to be holding between them, so she obeyed. "What – what's going to happen?"
"There's been a small delay, you'll be here a few days longer than originally planned, at least. Your team were very persistent in hunting down Ward and Doctor Zabo, chasing after leads of you. You'll probably be pleased to hear that one of them managed to shoot Ward."
"Is he dead?" she asked eagerly.
"No." He turned to look at her curiously, raised an eyebrow when she looked disappointed. "You really do want him dead."
"Yes I do. Because only dead is he going to give up on this stupid weird fantasy that we belong together and it's true lurve and all he needs to do is convince me of that!" she flashed back at him, making his eyes widen. "Oh God, don't tell me he convinced you too? Do you know what he threatened? He told me he thought he should just take what he wants; wake up something inside of me. Like I don't know what sex is, like he could rape me and make me like it and love him!"
Rumlow's nose wrinkled with disgust. "He's one sick puppy," he muttered.
"I thought once that I was a little bit in love with him," Skye confessed. "But I was infatuated with what I thought he was, the person I thought he was; and he was never that person. Everything he showed me was a lie, calculated to try and make me fall for him. I despise him. I had the chance to kill him and I wish I'd taken it, if I had I wouldn't be here!" Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, she swiped at them angrily, uncertain if they were tears of rage or misery. Closed her eyes to try and prevent more from welling.
Rumlow knelt beside her. Touched her shoulder gently. "Skye."
"Is that you, too?" she gulped. "Are you just showing me someone I kind of like so I won't give you any trouble? I used to think I was good at reading people, only – after Ward I don't know, it's all so fucked up…" more tears slid down her cheeks, and he sighed and pulled her head against his chest.
"It's all me, Skye," he said quietly. "I've only showed you the real me." Just not all of me.
Her fingers tangled in his shirt and she began to cry in earnest. With a sigh he gathered her into his lap, sitting back and holding her while she cried it out against his broad chest.
He was big and warm and comforting and Skye truly couldn't remember ever being just held like this. Just held, with no effort to do anything but offer silent solace, no pressure to move away before the embrace became uncomfortable. One large hand stroked lightly over her hair, the other pressed between her shoulder blades, holding her firmly but not tightly. She could pull away any time she wanted, but it felt so nice, just to be held.
Skye closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Brock's damp shirt. She thought she might have felt him drop a light kiss atop her hair, but there was nothing sexual about the way he was holding her, despite their closeness. He wasn't aroused, she'd have been able to feel it with the way she was sitting in his lap.
She was still and quiet for so long that Rumlow wondered suddenly if she'd fallen asleep. "Skye?" he said softly.
"Mm hm?"
"You all right?"
"Yes." She pulled back and he let her go without any attempt to hold on. "Thank you."
"What for?"
A small smile, and then she was getting up and heading for the stairs. "The shoulder to cry on."
"Any time," he said sincerely as she went up the stairs. He watched until she was out of sight and he heard her feet on the floor above before shaking his head slowly.
What the hell am I going to do with her?
Brock's just a big teddy bear really, isn't he?
And Ward really did say that to Skye, BTW, in the Battle at Cybertek. It's part of why the thought of SkyeWard makes me a bit sick.
