Guys, I'm really sorry for being so incredibly late with this. I've been busy, as always, with school and other things, but I also have myself to blame. 40 reviews! That means that next I'll be writing a bonus chapter from Cap's viewpoint! I hope I can write him well... Among other things, I'm writing a crossover! Lollipops to anyone who guesses what two fandoms the crossover will be between!
If you wanna see me when I'm not writing, go to my tumblr, thefrogswillreignsupreme!
It was very hard, crying quietly.
As I sobbed into my arms, I held back the urge to wail. I had never been a quiet crier. Voicing my sadness and pain, I showed my emotions and let them control my actions. I wanted more than anything to scream. I wanted to scream and wail and bellow, my fists hitting the floor. I wanted to cry for my Mothers like a small child, waking up scared and alone in their bed. They had fallen asleep with the warmth of their parent beside them, wrapping the protecting arms around them. As they would drift into unconsciousness, they would feel happy. Complete. Then, they would wake up in the dark. The warmth, the familiarity, gone. They are so scared and lost. And they cry. I felt so much like a lost child right then, except this time no mother would come. No one would. I felt mucus fill my throat, and I swallowed with some difficulty. My breath was hitched and quick, not hyperventilating, but close. I had shown that side with my explosive breakdown on the Helicarrier, and now more than ever I wanted to batter my head against the metal ground.
The Helicarrier. I allowed the softest sob to escape into the cloth of my pants. I had been so idiotic, so angry and foolish. I had done exactly what Loki had wanted. I had walked right into his thin hands by going after him alone.
And I couldn't even hurt him. I was weak.
Useless.
These thoughts brought on an onslaught of guilty crying. Why didn't you stay with Coulson? You could have been there. You could have gone for help. You could have done something. Anything. But no. You couldn't let him go. You couldn't forget about Loki for just one second and help him. Loki got exactly what he wanted, all because of you. You left Coulson.
You left him to die alone.
The words that brought the crushing guilt had come first as a whispering at the back of my mind. As I had succumbed to the quiet sobs, the voice grew louder, filling my consciousness. For some reason, it had sounded like my third grade teacher, Ms. Penny. She had raised her voice at me after my grades dropped, saying I was a stupid child. I was not smart, and I never would be, because I only thought about soccer. As her voice grew to a shout, I cowered and sniffled, clutching my favorite soccer ball. Then, to my horror, she took the ball and tore it. I had burst into tears, and later she was fired. Even after my mothers soothed me, I could still hear her judging voice. It was the voice that told me I was too skinny when I looked at myself in the mirror, that I looked like a toothpick. It was the voice that said no one would like me with an ugly, short hairstyle after I got it cut. It was the one that told me that she would never like me back. It had always been the voice of my self-loathing, my doubt in myself. And this time it hit where it hurt the most.
The sentence reverberated through my head, feeling so empty and about to explode from pressure at the same time.
He was dead. Fucking dead.
I heard him call after me as I ran through the wall. Even as he lay there dying, Coulson was only concerned about my safety, telling me over and over not to go.
And what did you do?
I didn't want to answer the voice.
And what did you do?
It said like a clap of thunder, rumbling through me.
I didn't listen.
I hadn't listened and he had paid for it.
I felt numb. There was so much emotion, building and raging out of control. It wanted to come bursting out of me, stomping and screaming. But it stopped. It was like I was wearing a mask with two small holes for my eyes. It was choking my emotions, holding them back like a huge dam holding a reservoir. It helped and hurt at the same time. I could only cry through the eye holes, tears flowing freely. But I couldn't writhe. I couldn't scream or stomp or move. I could only cry. The voice hovered over me, whispering and shouting and screaming all at the same time. I couldn't choose which one hurt the most.
I used to have a dog. Back on my home, my family owned a dog. A huge Great Dane with brownish-red fur that looked like clay. Of course, we called her Clifford. She was the gentlest dog you'd ever meet. She never ran after squirrels or cats or cars. At the most, she was only slightly interested in them, never enough to bolt after. That was a good thing, as if she would start running, none of us would be able to stop her. She was only...curious. Clifford always had a mission to keep us happy, no matter what. She would always be there no matter what we felt, sniffing and licking and watching. She never bit. She never growled. She did anything for us. We loved Clifford so much.
The eventual happened. Time can never be stopped, no matter how hard you try. I wasn't prepared for it. I never had been. I was eleven. Always moving, always running and playing. I loved playing with Clifford out in the yard. I don't remember her running after the ball slower than she used to. Neither did I her lying on the couch more. Eating less and less. I don't know if I didn't notice, or refused to. I thought Clifford would always be there. I was so ignorant. I had wanted to go out and play with the ball. Standing at the doorway, I whistled for her.
"Clifford! Here girl!". I knew she would come. She always had. Clifford was on the couch, her eyes tinged with red as she opened them. I imagine she wanted to do nothing more than sleep, but she listened. She was the most obedient dog you would ever meet. Her bones were old and brittle, her muscles tired and sore. But with great effort, she lowered herself off the couch. She didn't even whimper. And she walked. Each rubbed down pad of her paws clomped across the floor. I waited. She seemed to be taking a bit longer than usual. The smallest bit of doubt creeped into my mind, but I shook it off. Clifford was fine, I thought. Just a bit tired. She was fine. The Great Dane lumbered up to me, her tail lazily wagging. The door was open, the smell of spring wafting through. She started to take another step, and- thump.
She collapsed. I jumped in surprise as the doubt and fear I had been hiding came roaring back. She was on the ground, shaking and trembling. My young eyes grew wide. No. It was like Clifford knew she was going to die. The worst part? She had accepted it. She didn't try to raise herself from the wooden floor, didn't whimper or howl, but stayed silent, just like she had always been.
I remember crying. I didn't know much, but my mother told me Clifford had gone to a nice place, where she would live happily. I knew better. I had seen her wobble and crash, her breathing shallow and labored. There was pressure behind my rib cage as I sucked in air through my teeth.
Clifford, between all her pain, shifted her head. And her deep amber eyes looked directly into mine. And I knew. I saw her love and her happiness and her pain. She would have done everything for me. In her eyes, I saw what she wanted.
She wanted me to be there for her.
I almost was. I almost sat down, right there, and cradled her head in my lap as the life slipped out of her. I almost laid down next to her and wrapped my small arms around her, whispering that it was going to be okay into her fur.
Almost.
I had ran.
I didn't look back as tears burned my eyes like acid.
I just kept running. I didn't know where I was going and I didn't care.
I just wanted to get away.
From Clifford, lying there.
From her eyes, following me, trusting me.
From the brittleness of her bones, from the sagging of her skin, from the light that was slowly going out in her eyes.
From Death.
I had ran away then.
I had ran away now.
I could feel myself shaking on the metal floor. I wished I could fall asleep, lose myself and my thoughts in the weightless abyss. My tears were gone. I just had no more to give, no more to lose. My eyes were dry. Slowly, my head rose from my tear-stained knees, and I surveyed my surroundings.
I seemed to be in a closet.
It was a storage closet. Spacious and empty, but a closet no less. There was no light but a thin line penetrating from beneath the door. The air was dry and metallic. The door was locked- I didn't even try the doorknob, I knew. It was very quiet, albeit for the hum of the jet's engines as we shot through the sky. Estimating how long I had been crying, I concluded it had been around an hour. I had calmed down now, but my breath was still hitched, my nose runny. Ew. Brushing my arm against my nose, I wished I had a tissue. I actually surprised myself when I let out a chuckle. I had briefly imagined knocking on the door to ask Loki for a Kleenex, causing a small burst of joy. The laughter, though small, felt good. The heavy stone that sat at the bottom of my stomach lessened with it. It was relief. But the weight of my decisions still hung over me like a a boulder, only held by a frayed cord.
"What of our progress?" The small flame of laughter turned to ash as soon as I heard his voice. He sounded so blasé, so uncaring, like this whole thing was no more than a frivolous chore. I seethed. He obsessed over me while simultaneously treating me like a nonentity. He dressed ornately, wore that sickeningly pleased smile as he robbed the lives of innocents. My rage seethed like acidic bile in my throat, wanting to hurt him, burn him, make him feel every single bit of pain Coulson had fel- I paused, and my jaw tightened.
"Selvig is setting up the device now, sir." One of Loki's lackeys responded. "He... He said the Tesseract's energy levels are lower than normal." There was silence. I quieted my breathing, minimizing all sound I made.
"Tell him to keep working. The energy is not an issue."
His voice, so different and icy, came through the door. As he spoke, a strange tingle went down my spine, making me want to tremble wildly. And to think my sister had been infatuated with him. He was...dreamy. Her words, not mine.
In all, I just felt tired. My insides were numb and my outside ached. If I had wanted to, I would have fallen asleep on that steel floor, right then and there. For a second, my vision went fuzzy, and cleared. My back felt stiff, same as my neck. Before I could stretch out, I felt the hum beneath me grow louder, the engines of the plane rumbling.
We were landing.
