A/N. Hi :) I'm back. Still working on this thing. I had some major writer's block but I finally churned something out for you guys, even if it's not much. Hope you like it. Enjoy :D
Tania didn't cry. For the first time in months, she lay there, and she thought about crying but she didn't. The sheet was flat on top of her, un-twisted and un-wrinkled. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking and breathing and thinking. She was in an unfamiliar room and that only reminded her of why she was here.
Steve and the Avengers were gone. Taken. Mind controlled. She was spared. Of all people, why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it have been Natasha? If Natasha and Clint were both safe from the "Masters of Evil" (stupid name), then the dynamic duo would no doubt do a much better job at saving their friends. Instead, Clint was stuck with Tania: a beginner/moderate-ish fighter with emotional issues to some of their own and a tendency to become the damsel in distress.
The thought made her nostrils flare.
She didn't want to be a damsel in distress. She'd never wanted that. Yet it always happened, again and again, as if some power she couldn't control forced her to become an archetype of superhero comic books or films. Even if she may not fit all of the traits, she exemplified most of them.
It irked her.
She wanted to break free of her stereotype. She wanted to prove to Steve and to herself that she could be more than just the useless girlfriend.
So she'd started learning self-defense, which quickly transitioned into fighting and handling firearms. She wasn't bad.
Then she murdered a man in cold blood. He was a destructive, manipulative, evil man, but he was human and she'd taken that away from him. The realization that she could take lives so easily... it made her sick. Violence became much harder to perform. In a perfect world, she would never have to use it again. But this was far from that.
Violence was necessary sometimes; especially when you were dating a superhero.
She didn't want to hurt anyone.
She wasn't naive enough to believe that she could deal a lot of damage. Nonetheless, a little damage was still damage. She didn't want that. For anyone. Not even if they deserved it. Yet it was needed in certain circumstances and she was forced to put her training to use.
She didn't want to.
The solution?
Leave. Get up and walkaway. Never have to lay a finger on a trigger every again. Escape. Find the life she's always wanted, away from the one she accidentally fell into.
Lying here, mind churning and cogs turning, Tania realized that leaving would be exactly something a stereotypical, under-developed female would do. Save her own skin. Give up. Put herself before those she loved. That wasn't what she wanted.
She wanted to be strong. She wanted more than what a normal, regular old life could give her. She wanted to earn Steve's everlasting love for her. That would never happen if she left.
What would Graham say to her if he knew what she was thinking?
She'd been avoiding thinking of him ever since he left. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to do. She needed his advice and forgetting about him wasn't going to bring him back (no matter how much sense that didn't make). She missed him something awful. Her PTSD hadn't really been triggered until he left. She hadn't realized how much she relied on him until now.
No longer.
She was older and she was her own person. She would pick herself back up and she would work hard. Without leaving. How could she? Everyone she loved (excluding Graham) was in New York. How could leaving ever make her feel better? A lack of violence? Maybe. A lack of love? Definitely. Which would she prefer?
The answer was obvious.
If only it hadn't come so late.
She wanted to run to Steve and kiss him everywhere and tell him she loved him and that was never leaving. She wanted it so badly that her heart ached for his presence. Just to know that he was still okay.
The clock read two a.m. She didn't feel tired. She needed sleep. And she didn't want to have nightmares again.
She slipped out from underneath the cover and gentle pressed the balls of her feet into the cold floor. Darkness clouded her vision but if she squinted hard enough, she could make out the door.
Just not the shoes she'd left next to the bed a few hours before. "Wo-" She tripped over the boots but caught herself on the door, smiling sheepishly to herself. Clearing her throat, she moved to the nightstand and gulped down the entire glass of water. It still hurt to talk but at least it was faring better now.
She changed into yoga pants and a camisole before grabbing an elastic and tying up her hair. She fumbled for the security lock on the wall and pressed her hand to the scanner. It opened with a sound like steam being released from a kettle.
She stepped into the equally dark hallway, not really wanting to turn on any lights. When she was a kid, she used to want a nightlight so badly but her parents never got her one. "Waste of money," Felicity had said. Later, Graham started asking for the same thing. Still nothing. He went to his sister instead, using her as a personal comfort. Tania pretended not to be afraid so that he would be reassured. It had worked. Somehow, along the way, the darkness became a cloak around her shoulders, not around the dangerous figures supposedly lurking around every corner.
She somehow found the gym. It was downstairs (she didn't even know planes could have stairs). It was pretty rudimentary. Mats made up the floor. A punching bag hung from a chain to the left. A small armoury was kept in a glass case at the far end of the room. Two dummies slumped against the left wall. The right wall was lined with floor to ceiling mirrors like a dance studio.
Ward stood in the middle of the room, in the dark, chugging a water bottle. She hadn't noticed him at first because of the darkness, but when she did, she deduced that he'd been here a while.
"Hey," she said. The noise bounced off the walls awkwardly. She felt the need to announce her presence, lest she startle him. Except she now realized that it probably wasn't possible to sneak up on a specialist.
He lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hey."
She jumped the final two steps of stairs to the floor. "Mind if I work here too?"
He shrugged, screwing the cap back on. "I'm done for the night. Need to sleep sometime." He gestured around him. "Gym's all yours."
"Thanks. With all that's going on, just needed to hit something, you know?" She laughed awkwardly. She was going to blame her ridiculously terrible small talk on the fact that it was past two in the morning.
Ward remained impassive. After a moment where he seemed to contemplating something, he said, "Can I give you a tip?"
Surprised, Tania took a step closer. "Uh, yeah. Sure."
"You seem to be suffering. I find the best way to get over it is to suck it up and punch your troubles in the face." It may have been a trick of the darkness, but she thought she saw his lips quirk. "Just sayin'."
"You're very sympathetic," she replied dryly.
He shrugged again. "Just telling it like it is."
She nodded. "You're right. Thank you."
He tilted his head toward her before walking past her and up the stairs. He seemed uncomfortable. She wondered what demons haunted him that he was punching a bag so late at night. It was none of her business, she knew. So she wouldn't ask. She hardly knew him.
Maybe one day she could remedy that. Coulson's team was full of nice people. Some of them seemed even to be non-violent heroes torn between doing good and doing better at a higher risk and cost. Perhaps that was why she liked Simmons so much at first glance. They were both in situations that forced them to do things they would rather not do, but they were also in the place where they were probably happiest and saddest. It was also the place they could do the most good.
Tania walked over to the mat and began stretching, tilting her head left and right. She would sleep soon, but at the moment she felt she needed to prove something to herself. She needed to know that she wanted this – wanted to stay. This was that way.
With her limbs sufficiently stretched, she sunk into her fighting stance. Practicing alone was nowhere near as effective as with a partner, but it was practice never the less. She swung a punch and she ducked an imaginary kick. She twisted her torso and jabbed the side of her hand into the neck that wasn't there. A knee to the stomach was followed by a spin and a heel to the abdomen. In her own mind, Tania was a fantastic fighter. But in the real world...
She was okay.
She needed to be better. She needed to be good – good enough to save the Avengers. She had no idea what would come when everyone was awake but she was going to get ready for it.
Her fight took her all over the floor until she was next to the punching bag and slammed the back of her arm against it by accident. The feel of actually hitting something was so satisfying that she switched tactics. The bag was now her opponent and she was going to decimate it. If she were Steve, she would knock the bag right into the wall, breaking the chain and tearing the fabric in the process and sand would leak from the rip, causing a huge mess. Then the two of them would laugh and clean it up together-
She threw a devastating punch. The vibrations of the hit echoed up her arm and to her shoulder and her fingers cracked uncomfortably. She hissed. She wasn't Steve and her fingers felt like they could be broken if she kept going. She shook out her hand in anger. She wasn't strong physically, but she would get there.
Wearing gloves would probably be a good idea.
She meandered over to the armoury and slid the glass aside. Firearms occupied the majority of the hooks and she shuddered just looking at them. There were some unfamiliar tech-y looking guns and then there were your basic martial arts weapons. Nunchuks hung to the left. A variety of knives occupied a small shelf to the right.
She was briefly reminded of the knife Peggy had given her – the one from nineteen forty-five. Tania had attempted to throw it at an attacker once. She'd missed (by a great distance) but the fact that she'd attempted to harm another human being made bile rise in her throat.
She turned away from the knives. She unhooked the nunchuks out of total curiousity. Mikey had always been her second favourite ninja turtle. She made sure to have a firm grip on each side and began to twirl them. The weight was unfamiliar and odd in her hands. She didn't really like the feel of them. She put them back. She was no ninja.
There were no katanas or sais but there was a bo-staff. She hummed, gloves forgotten for the moment. She unhooked the metal staff and admired it. It was lighter than she anticipated and longer than the batons she was used to. Back in middle school (and a little bit in high school – secretly because baton twirling was social suicide), Tania had taken some lessons. She'd been pretty good back then. Maybe she still had it in her?
She backed away from the case and began to twirl it experimentally. It obeyed her gracefully. Faster, faster- oh. Okay. So she's a bit rusty. No big deal. Try agai- oh. Damn. Okay, one more time.
God damn it!
She remembered twirling being so much easier than this.
It was a while before she got the hang of it, being eternally grateful that the clangs of the falling staff were muffled by the training mats. Once she was used to the weight and the length, she started moving her legs. She stepped left and right and then she spun-
Drop.
God damn it!
She sighed. What time was it? There wasn't a clock in here and her pocket watch was at the Tower. She bent over to pick up the staff and groaned. Her spine felt overworked for some reason. Crap. That probably meant she'd been here for longer than she meant to.
She placed the staff on the hooks and closed the glass door. Just as it was. She turned on her heel and made for the stairs, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She nearly bumped into May on the way up. "Oh! Agent May! Hi."
"Hi." May was dressed in lulu lemons and a camisole with a ponytail. She raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "You're up early."
Tania was unsure whether or not she was being judged. "Early?" Crap. "Um, what time is it?"
"About five."
Crap.
"You've been up all night, haven't you?"
"... maybe."
May didn't react. "Good night then, Agent Banks."
Was that humour? Tania had no idea. "Good... morning, Agent May." She continued on her way up the stairs and sneaked back into her room. She sighed, the aching in her muscles returning full force. She groaned and fell onto the bed.
Just five minutes of rest and then she'd shower.
Just... five...
Zzzzzzz.
A/N. Yeah, this chapter was kinda filler but there were some things I wanted to address within it. Yes, Tania was thinking about the tropes of females in fanfiction and regular fiction alike. I was inspired by Cabin in the Woods which I saw recently. I felt like I was making a statement. This is kind of a turning point for Tania and I hope that came across well enough. Next time: I have no idea. Expect more team-ness and banter. Bye!