Chapter Eleven: Security
Mo's P.O.V.
There was a quiet creak outside the door, like someone had stepped on a loose floorboard. I sat up from where I'd been lying on the bed. I wasn't sure what time it was or how long I'd been just lying there, praying for death. It had to be the next day though. Why else would the door be opening right then? It was time to leave. Time for me to live out the rest of my life married to an alien I despise.
Didn't mean I was going to go that easily.
I couldn't see who was coming for me, but as soon as a pair of hands grabbed my arms I flung myself onto my back and started kicking my legs out, trying to land a hit somewhere. Anywhere. "Don't touch me," I snapped. "Leave me alone."
Whichever alien it was wasn't talking, which unnerved me a little. They could at least make some noise, right, so I didn't feel like I was fighting a ghost? No dice. Not a sound.
I was grabbed around my waist and thrown over someone's shoulder. We started moving instantly. It was like they were in a hurry to get me on their spaceship and back to their planet. I tried kicking again, but the person grabbed my ankles and just kept running.
"Put me down!" I all but screamed. "I'm not going! You can't take me, I'm not who you think I am!" The only sound my captor made was a quiet shushing. I wasn't going to be quiet. "No! Put me down!"
Not being able to see what was happening and not really knowing my surroundings that well anyway, on top of having a kidnapper who won't talk to me was incredibly disorienting and I didn't enjoy it. At all. Not to mention the fact that I could hear footsteps thundering after us. Jesus, was the whole group escorting me to the ship? Why were we running? Surely they didn't think the Avengers were coming for me. And why was I thrown over someone's shoulder? I sure as hell didn't want to leave Earth, but I could walk on my own and keep my dignity in tact.
I was finally set on my feet what seemed like ages later. I stumbled a little, but it didn't take long for my temper to come back. "Jesus Christ, Garfield, I'm perfectly capable of walking myself to my doom. I'm not some stupid damsel in distress."
Calloused fingertips touched my face; I flinched and tried to shy away. Barely a heartbeat later the blindfold was gone and I could see again for the first time in hours. It wasn't Garfield's sly face and cold, dark eyes staring back at me.
"Barton?" I said quietly, my tone one of disbelief. My best friend, the man who'd hurt me in more ways than I could imagine in the last two days alone, was standing before me, his hands clasped in front of him and his blue eyes watching mine.
The right corner of his lips quirked upward. "Hi, Mo," he said, his voice just as soft as mine was.
I jumped on him. He stumbled backward in surprise, catching me around the waist just before I could ricochet off of him and hit the floor. He held me tightly, one arm around my waist while the other had a hand in my hair. He was shaking; I could feel his body trembling against me. I tightened my grip on him and laid my head on his shoulder. Was I crying? I couldn't tell. I couldn't comprehend anything. Seeing Barton in front of me, back to normal again, was like a shock to my senses. I couldn't speak.
I was not going to be the one to break up the hug. Barton eventually stepped back and planted his hands firmly on my hips. I could feel every one of his fingertips pressing against me. He was grinning, that same look that he always seemed to save just for me. He was really himself again. He'd come back for me.
I was tearing up but pretending that I wasn't. "How did you know where to find me?"
With his pinky, Barton tapped the corner of the cell phone Fury had given me that I had stashed in my back pocket. I hadn't parted with it, even after I'd been returned home at the end of that first year. It worked much better than mine, anyway. Barton's wide grin lessened into a soft smile. "The tracking device in your phone. Did you really think Fury wouldn't have added that feature in?"
I laughed a little and shook my head, dislodging a few tears. Barton caught them easily with his thumb. "You're crying," he said, sounding a little confused.
"Of course I'm crying, you idiot," I said, laughing again and pulling him into another hug. I exhaled slowly and leaned into his chest. I closed my eyes. I could hear his heart beating quickly against me. Laying a hand over top of it, I smiled a little more. "You're back."
"I could say the same to you," he said, smiling down at me. He leaned in and rested his forehead against mine. "I missed you."
"Agent Barton, where to?"
We both stepped away from each other quickly, almost embarrassedly, as the pilot of the jet I'd been set down in turned around from his seat and spoke. We made eye contact, and he smiled at me. "Good to see you, Agent Mo," he said. Then he turned his attention to Barton once more. "Where to, sir? The helicarrier? Avengers Tower?"
"Neither." I raised an eyebrow, but Barton ignored me. "Just drop us off at the nearest landing pad. We'll make our way from there."
The pilot nodded and faced forward again, heeding Barton's orders. I turned toward the archer, eyebrows stilled raised. "Where are we going?" I asked.
He rested a hand against the small of my back, his mouth smiling but his eyes guarded. "My place."
"Why aren't you taking me back to Stark Tower? Won't the rest of the team be there? Or at the helicarrier, at least?"
Barton's hand left my back and gripped my own hand instead. He led me toward the back of the small jet, like he didn't want the pilot to hear us talk. Really though, the jet was so tiny I'm sure the guy could've heard us loud and clear even if we were talking in whispers, which we weren't.
"The rest of the team doesn't know I'm here right now," Barton said. "They think you're still with Garfield. As far as they know, you're not even on Earth anymore."
My heart clenched. "You mean - " My throat closed up, preventing me from speaking any further. I leaned my forehead against Barton's chest, welcoming the arm that he wrapped around me. I wasn't crying anymore, not like earlier. I wanted to be angry, I wanted to be upset, but I wasn't. I wasn't expecting anyone to come and rescue me from the aliens. I was only expecting death when I left Stark Tower. But still...
"I'm sorry," Barton said after a while. I tilted my head back and rested my chin against the fabric of his jacket. He set a hand on top of my head, the smile gone from his face. "I know they would've come to save you if they'd thought there was a way to do it."
"It didn't take you much," I said bitterly, instantly regretting it. They couldn't save me because it would put Barton's life in jeopardy if they tried to stop Garfield. I left willingly; I didn't want anyone to stop me. The team did nothing wrong. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that." And then, realizing - "You shouldn't have come and rescued me."
Barton gripped my shoulders when I attempted to shove myself away from him. "Stop it. You know I had to," he snapped. I glared at him. "Don't you dare look at me like that. There was no way I could let you be taken away. Who knows what Garfield would have done with you."
I could feel the blood drain from my face. He doesn't know. Of course he doesn't know, why would he know? I shake my head and look down toward my shoes. I'm not going to tell him, not right now. I'm happy to be alive and to have him back; I don't want to ruin it just to tell him what Garfield really has planned for me.
"What is it?" So he noticed my change in expression, then. "Mo, tell me what's wrong. What did he do to you?"
I take a few steps away from him, eyes still trained on the ground. "He didn't do anything to me."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying!" I snapped, fists clenched. How could he accuse me of lying? Anyone with eyes could see that there was not a scratch on me, not a hair out of place. I was tied up and thrown on a bed, but that was the extent of it. Physically, I was in perfect health. Mentally and emotionally, well... That's a different story. "I'm fine, Barton."
He rolled his eyes. "You don't seem very fine."
The jet landed not even a moment later, and the pilot gave me a small smile as I jumped out onto the ground. Barton followed closely behind me, grabbing my elbow as the aircraft took off for the helicarrier. "How would you know?" I say bitterly.
"Because I know what Garfield does to people!" The volume of his voice begins to rise until he's shouting at me, his face inches from mine. "I know what he did to you last year and how devastating that was, and I know what he just did to me not that long ago. So I find it very hard to believe that he would just let you go without harming you even a little."
"I don't want to fight with you," I said quietly. Barton, mid-sentence, closed his mouth. "You're safe. We're both safe. Can't we just be happy in that?"
"Of course." Barton's voice was gentle. It doesn't take much to get him to cool back down. "But, Mo, you're not safe yet. Garfield is still going to come after you. And even if he didn't hurt you this time, you can bet he'll try the next opportunity he gets."
He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away from him. "You're taking me to your apartment. That's safe. I'll be safe. We'll be safe," I insisted. God, for once in the last two years I wanted to feel like my life wasn't constantly in danger. Was that too much to ask for?
Barton's sad eyes were telling me that, yes, I was asking for entirely too much. "I wish that was true. I really do. But we can't hide there forever, Mo. They'll find us eventually. And it's bound to be sooner rather than later."
I wasn't sure who he was referring to when he said "they". The logical explanation would be the aliens. Of course they were still going to come after me, their supposed "queen" and the one to bear Garfield's heir. My personal hell. But he could also have meant the rest of the Avengers, Fury included. They would wonder why Barton was missing, because somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that Barton was not going to leave me alone in his apartment.
"I just want to feel safe."
He came at me, arms open wide, and engulfed me into a hug. His grip was tight, nearly squeezing the life out of me, but it was everything I needed in that moment. And, crazy as I wanted to tell myself I was being, it was all I would ever need. I knew it. There was no denying it. Barton was all the security I needed. It was how it'd always been.
I could feel his breath brush against my ear when he spoke. "You're safe with me."
"I know."
oOoOo
It was a long, silent walk to Barton's apartment, especially in the crisp fall weather, but I didn't mind. He'd offered to call a taxi, but I had declined, thinking the fresh air would be good for me. After being bound and blinded for however many hours and then promptly shoved in a jet, I needed to be outside. It was dark out, which was almost akin to being blind, but I could feel the breeze on my skin and it was okay. Barton didn't speak to me, nor did he make any move to touch me, and that was alright. I didn't know what to say to him, and I suspected he was at a loss for words as well.
As far as touch went, I was fine with the lack of that as well. I was still in conflict with myself about Brendon. I knew he was never going to mean as much to me as Barton did, but something about it still felt...wrong. In some part of my brain I knew going to Barton's apartment was the wrong thing to do. Nothing good was going to come out of it. Conflicting emotions were going to become even more prominent. I could force myself to love Brendon; I could not force myself to forget about Barton. About any of this.
Barton's apartment was just shy of the top floor. We took the elevator up, both of us leaning against a different wall. I was staring at the floor, but I could feel Barton's eyes on me. Neither of us spoke until we were out into the hallway and then through his front door. As he tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, I leaned back against the door and clasped my hands together.
"Thank you," I finally said, albeit a bit sheepishly.
He turned around, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "For what?"
"Saving me."
He smiled, the first real smile he'd given me since we got off the jet. "Well, don't thank me yet. This plan could go to shit very quickly. The aliens know you're missing; now they have to figure out where you were taken."
"Won't they check the Tower first?" Suddenly I was terrified, not for myself but for my friends. They won't have any idea what's going on, why the aliens are suddenly back, and angrier than before.
Barton came over and rested a firm hand on my shoulder. "Calm down. Everything is okay." I shook my head, ninety-nine percent sure that everything was not okay. "I'll take care of it. You don't need to worry about anything. Not today." He laid his palm against my cheek; I leaned into his touch, even though I knew I shouldn't. "Today you're safe. Tomorrow you can go back to worrying about everyone but yourself. I know how much you enjoy that."
He grinned, and I couldn't help but smile back. "Okay."
"Go sit on the couch and watch TV or something. I'm going to get you something to eat. When's the last time you ate?" I shrugged. "Right. Okay. Go sit down."
I did as he said and seated myself in the very middle of the couch, drawing my feet up onto the cushions as well. I reached for the remote, which had been sitting on the coffee table, and switched on the TV. The news was on and, for once, there didn't seem to be anything interesting going on. I flipped through the channels, eventually finding the CW. Supernatural was on, which happened to be one of my favorite shows. I smiled to myself and settled back against the cushions, making myself comfortable.
The kitchen overlooked the living room, so I could easily hear Barton working away at whatever he was doing over the sound of Dean Winchester beheading a vampire. It was an old episode, but I liked it anyway. How could you not, really? Barton was driving me a little insane with the way he was constantly glancing over at me. I tried to ignore him and watch the show, but it was becoming exceedingly difficult.
"Hey." Barton jumped. "I'm fine. Not breaking. Not freaking out. Stop staring at me and go back to your food before you set yourself on fire or something." He chuckled a little, but sheepishly did as I said.
Not long after, he approached me with a plate of food in each hand. "Grilled cheese?" he said, a lopsided smile on his face. I nodded shyly and he set one of the plates in my waiting hands, settling beside me on the couch with the other. The grilled cheese smelled mouthwateringly good, especially considering I hadn't eaten in a day or so, and it didn't take long for me to finish it. Barton merely smiled and watched me out of the corner of his eye as he ate.
After he finally finished eating, he took my empty plate from me and went to set the dishes in the sink. I stifled a yawn and leaned to the right, slowly lying across the couch with my head on my arm. The TV was still playing, though it didn't seem as loud as it was before. I was exhausted, for some reason. It wasn't like I'd done a whole lot in the last day or so. But it was dark outside, and I guess being kidnapped by aliens was sort of traumatizing. My eyes fluttered shut. Maybe I could just take a nap...
"Mo." Barton's hand was warm when it brushed against my cheek. I cracked an eye open and looked up at him. He was almost at eye-level with me, blue eyes crinkling at the edges. "Let's get you to bed, huh?"
"Couch is good," I mumbled, closing my eye again.
He nudged my shoulder with his palm. "No, come on. You can sleep in my bed." I didn't move. "Come on, Mo. You deserve better than the couch."
Nodding slowly, I allowed him to assist in pulling me up and off the couch. His arm was wrapped protectively around my waist as he led me down a short hall and through a doorway. There was nothing more than a bed, a closet, and a small dresser within. It was simple, and undeniably Barton. He dropped his arm back to his side and I took a step toward the bed. "You sure this is okay?" I asked, turning to look over my shoulder at him.
He nodded. "There's shirts in the closet. You can borrow one, if you don't want to sleep in your street clothes." His cheeks were bright pink. Precious.
I smiled at him. "Thank you."
He merely mumbled something under his breath and backed away from the doorway, back toward the living room. I watched him leave, making sure he was out of sight before crossing over to his closet and opening it. There weren't a vast number of shirts inside, but there were enough for him to not need to do laundry for a few weeks. I grabbed a simple black t-shirt and tossed it onto the bed, stripping out of my own clothes a few seconds later. The fabric of his shirt was soft against my skin when I tugged it on.
I pulled the blankets back and crawled beneath them, curling up on my side. The sheets and pillows smelled like Barton, like the cologne he sometimes wore. It was nice, and I smiled as I closed my eyes. All of it was nice.
I missed him, I realized as I nestled further into the cocoon of blankets. Of course, I already knew that I had missed him, but that ache I'd been feeling in my chest for the last few months was finally starting to dissipate. I missed him, much more than I had previously thought. But I guess that's okay.
OoOoO
Barton's P.O.V.
She'd fallen asleep almost instantly. I stood in the doorway for a few moments, watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing, before I turned away and returned to the living room. My knees gave out as soon as I reached the couch and I sank down onto it, leaning my head back to rest on the cushions. There would be no sleep for me tonight.
My cellphone buzzed from where it was sitting on the coffee table. For a moment, I was confused; who would be texting me? Surely the team would believe I wasn't much in the mood for conversation. I doubted any of them would be wanting to talk, either.
But, of course, Nat was never one to put herself over someone else, especially not in times like these. How are you holding up?
I smiled a little and grabbed my phone, responding easily. I'm fine. I was fine, or at least mostly fine. Mo was asleep in my room, safe and sound for the time being. But Natasha had no way of knowing that; it was more likely that she'd think I was lying to her.
Don't lie to me. I was right. You know I can tell when you're lying, right?
"Not over text, Nat," I said quietly. Right. Sorry. It's just been a long day. A long couple of days, really.
You know there was nothing we could do. If there was any way we could have gotten her back without risking both of your lives, we would have found it.
I wasn't sure whether or not that was true. From what they told me about what happened in the last few days, they didn't have a whole lot of reaction time at all. Only a few hours, once everything was said and done, and that's not enough time to come up with a real, viable solution. So they chose to let Mo hand herself over. And, for what? So that Garfield wouldn't be possessing me anymore? While it wasn't fun in the slightest, the team would have figured out how to fix it eventually. Right?
I glanced toward my bedroom, trying to make out the shape of her in my bed, but it was too dark. She knows why the team made the decision that they did. It was for the same reason she did: she thought I was the most important of the two of us. That it would be more valuable for me to have my full faculties than for her to even be alive on Earth. With me.
Barton?
I jumped, dropping my phone into my lap. I had forgotten to respond to Nat. I typed something out quickly, hardly paying attention. I'm fine. It's fine. I'm going to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow, or something. I set the device back on the coffee table, hoping that answer would satisfy her. It may, but not for long. Never for long.
I watched the TV for a while, the sound muted. I had no idea what was even on, but I made no effort to understand. Trying to distract myself wasn't working. I wanted to know what had happened to Mo while she was in Garfield's possessions - because surely he'd done something to her - but she wasn't talking. Part of me thought that she would tell me when she was ready; the other part of me thought she was never going to say anything at all. It could really go either way with her.
It was an hour or so later when I heard her. She was quiet, but not so quiet that I couldn't hear her. At first it was soft sniffles, but eventually it escalated into muffled sobs. She was hurting.
I was on my feet in seconds, standing in the doorway of my bedroom seconds later. "Mo?" She was nothing but a lump beneath a pile of blankets in the darkness, but I saw her breathing slow as soon as I spoke. "You can't just pretend to be sleeping, Mo." My tone was light, hoping to elicit a laugh from her. It didn't work to that effect, but she at least rolled toward me.
"I'm fine," she said softly. "Go back to sleep."
I sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating a moment before setting a hand on her shoulder. All I could see of her were her eyes, peering out at me from under the covers. "I wasn't sleeping," I said. "Neither were you."
"I'm fine," she repeated.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
It took a moment, but I finally saw her nod. She sat up, letting the blankets fall off her shoulders and into her lap. She folded her hands in front of her, turning her face away from me. I held a hand out again, this time laying it on top of both of her. She almost smiled. "He didn't really hurt me," she said after a little while. I frowned. "I promise. He didn't hurt me at all. He wouldn't. Because - " Her voice cracked and then broke, and I saw a few tears leak out.
I waited, patient, ready for whatever it was she had to tell me. She took a deep breath, and then lifted her chin. Her blue eyes locked onto mine, and she told me.
Everything.
