It all happened so… fast.
Right from when Wanda disappeared, the proverbial shit started to hit the proverbial fan; much to the petrified observation of a certain little vet.
Sure, there was a brief reprieve on the battlefield when Scarlet Witch appeared and started to tilt the balance in the most badass of fashions; and maybe everyone else was thinking it but Okoye said it loud enough when she said: "Why was she up there all this time?"
However, and perhaps, it was paranoid to think it, it felt like a trap. Or maybe not. Not when an ominous rumble into an alien com device commanded: "She's on the field. Take it."
The King's Guard and the Dora Milaje, handpicked for their bravery and dedication to the royal family, were not known to scream. Howl and call in battle and bay their response to their king's battle cry, yes, but not scream. The first that ripped from down the corridor made two brunette heads (one darker than the other) turn; first to the disturbance, then to each other.
"Keep going, Shuri." Elsa's hand trembled as she checked the rifle: Loaded. Safety off.
It got closer, whatever it was, and making sure it could be heard; picking off their layers of protection as it made its way towards the lab and Elsa remembered the promise to her husband that might die with her. As a last line of defence while the procedure is being carried out. A just in case, darling.
Was it hoping that by instilling fear that Shuri might slip up? Get sloppy and, in some way, leave the stone ripe for the taking? If that was the hope, the princess and genius of unrivalled calibre, would disappoint them. Unlike Elsa, she kept her nerve in the far more delicate procedure. Afraid? Yes. Fraught? Absolutely. But she kept true, right up until the last second.
"Keep going, Shuri!" Elsa barked again, falling in before her friend, as she'd been drafted: a last line of defence. This thing… This goblinesque thing tore through all before him(?) with one goal and dispatching all in his path. That meant Elsa and Shuri, but true to her word, the vet would do her damnedest first. "Come on, then." She challenged in a snarl as the last Dora Milaje fell in front of her; just another hunter, just another jeep on her turf. Fear had evaporated, adrenaline and outright offense had taken its place.
One shot: BANG. It might have rattled the princess, but she kept that infamous focus while the vet prowled for another clean shot. Six rounds, don't waste them. BANG. Did she get him? There was a growl and a brief recoil alright but… No, the son of a bitch kept coming whether she hit him or not and Elsa was running out of steps backwards. So… BANG.
BANG.
Trigger poised, stance ready and waiting for another opportunistic shot, Elsa's bearing dared the intruder to right himself and give her what she bit on her patience for. Unfortunately, this creature, this beast, was more ready for Elsa than she was for it. Or… it spotted a weakness in the connection between the two human females and used it to his advantage; biding his time.
It happened then. When Elsa inevitably turned to check on Shuri for the splittest of split seconds. So swift was the strike that the vet did not even get to turn her head back to her assailant. She barely felt it, scarcely tasted the blood; she certainly didn't register hitting the floor like a sentimental sack of oats.
Only then, did everything go black. Not just for Elsa, but half the universe too.
What the hell…? What happened…? Where am I…? Why is it so quiet…? Ow…
Can I move…? Yes, just about… Sluggish, maybe… Is that blood…? Do I taste blood…?
Christ, my head hurts… What is that… that sound…? That horrible buzzing…?
Bucky…?
Head. Ribs. Fingers… Which ones… Not a priority. Wedding ring…? Still there, thank God…
Oh God… I feel like I'm going to puke… If I open my mouth, I might but…
"Shuri…?" Nothing. Of course not. Open your eyes, dear. No… That light… That light is too much… "Shuri, are you alright…?"
Dragging herself on her stomach in the most agonizing and tormenting of ways, Elsa (despite her effort and what it felt like) did not get far. Blind like a mole and cumbersome like a seal on dry land, she felt her way with gritted teeth and broken fingers. The light, despite her shuttered lids, assaulted her delicate brain like a thousand white-hot knives, penetrating mercilessly with no escape; even curling her head into her chest yielded no reprieve.
The drool flowed in a continuous stream but, like everything else, it was not a priority. Or even a conscious recognition that she was, in fact, drooling.
"Hello…?" More silence shrouded by that incessant, grating buzzing. "Anyone…?" Once again, no response. Of any kind.
I have to… I have to get back to the farm.
If anyone was to railroad Dr Elsa Barnes and interrogate her, under pain of death, as to how she got back to the farm that night, she would not have been able to save herself.
In some deep, hidden part of her injured brain, autopilot unlocked her way home; oblivious to the carnage lining the roadside. The bodies, human and alien alike, were mere outlines on the landscape and even if her headlights managed to briefly illuminate them, they were not registered as out of the ordinary. I have to get back to the farm. She drummed it into herself, over and over, louder in her head than the howl of the engine; a mantra of self-preservation. I have to get back to the farm.
During the winter months, there were times when Elsa did not return home until after dark, but the farm had been a beacon on the hill for the grateful little vet; lit to guide her way home.
I have to get back to the farm… I need… Bucky...
Now… Now, the shadows encroached like monsters; dowsing the farm in an eerie, silent atmosphere befitting a horror movie. Somehow, the glare of the headlights upon arrival made it worse. The throw of the yellow catching the house (a glorified hut that they had made into a palace in their own minds), then the grazing pen, the vegetable patch then the overnight enclosures as she pulled into her usual spot. Autopilot, all of it.
The stumble should have been enough to tell her she was not alright. The difficulty in placing one foot in front of the other should have suggested she was best getting help. But… Help was inside, wasn't it? Bucky would be there, waiting, arm outstretched to pull her to his chest and heart thundering under her cheek, thanking God she was okay? Sit her down, make her a cup of tea? Kiss her head, help her into bed?
But… No fire? No lamp? No smell of cooking?
Threshold just about conquered (albeit with strain, pain and more than one slip of her foot), Elsa stood there for the longest time while the glaring abnormality bellowed at her but she could not put her finger on it; addled by the combined blow and collapse.
"Bucky…?" She didn't get a response in the lab, why would she get one here? Then… Something else, something else struck her, needling the ache in her brain even more; niggling and exasperating her further. This can't be right… I could have sworn… He was definitely… I left him here…
"Cody…?"