Fade Into You
Rating: R (We are starting to slip into darker territory)
Notes: Thank you for the follows & reviews, keep them coming, they help me post these chapters faster! This chapter leads us into the Great Game-yay finally we are in an episode. This one was also easier to write, I'm enjoying keeping Maddie and Sherlock on the slow roll as far as relationship goes-it's a balance to keep Sherlock in character and have a relationship flourish. I also deeply enjoy Maddie and John and cannot wait to add Mary in (but that will be a ton of chapters down the line as I am keeping that in time with the show).
Also, I've been re-reading previous chapters-I feel like I need to state that I beta this myself and sometimes things slip by. I do this for fun, I'm aware I abuse commas, and have some errors here and there. Hopefully it's not too awful.
With that, enjoy!
Chapter Five: Crying
Wednesday nights were her book club nights. He knew that, because she had talked to John in extensive detail about the books they were having her read. It made Wednesday nights good nights for him to work in peace in her flat. He adored 221B, but sometimes it was easier to lose himself in his work at her flat. It was that very reason he had entered her flat that night (after texting her, of course). He was starting to get bored, and needed a change of scenery. How he longed for a good murder.
He didn't receive a text back from Maddie before he reached her flat. It was something he wasn't too worried about considering she was supposed to be on her way to her book club. He texted, that was the rule. Nothing in the rules said he had to wait for a text back. Strange to see that there were lights on. Maybe she was sick and didn't go to Book Club?
When he made it down the stairs he realized that something was greatly amiss. The very first thing he noticed was Maddie, who was sitting at her table crying. Her face was bright red, mascara was running, he couldn't tell if he was reading her face right or not. Sad, obviously. There was something else in there, scared, shocked, annoyed? He couldn't tell. He clenched his jaw and let his eyes scan over the rest of the room.
A man stood next to her, hand on a weapon on his belt. He looked like a Government man. That deduction was more sound when Sherlock caught sight of Mycroft, smiling near her sofa.
"Hello brother."
Many scenarios were automatically floating around in his head-quite a few of them dashed when he heard Maddie stand up. "What?!" It was a near scream, she was on the verge of hysterics. He wondered what he walked in on.
"Maddie calm down, you look like you're about to faint." The Government man, American spoke. Close enough to use her first name, not even her proper first name-her nickname. He cared about her, but there was an underlying tension in his body language that told Sherlock that he was possibly someone she worked with.
"Clearly you're not dashing off to your book club." Sherlock stated, calmly despite all his internal thoughts screaming at him about Mycroft being in the room.
She laughed, looking as if she might throw up soon, "Complete bummer because it was such a good book too." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, causing her mascara to create deep smudges around her eyes bringing a gothic look about her. "This is your brother?" She asked, her hand waving in Mycroft's general direction. Mycroft looked bored at this point.
Sherlock nodded, "Yes, although I'm not quite sure what he's doing here-and why you are crying. Normally he's more of an abduction type."
"Oh kidnap one of your friends once and it turns into me abducting the populace." Mycroft butted in. "She works for me."
What?
Well, that was unexpected. "She doesn't work for you." The Government man spoke, his hand was on Maddie's shoulder, standing behind her watching the stand off between Sherlock and Mycroft. "She works for us, she just has to go through you while she lives here."
"I think the deal for her getting the duel citizenship was she works for me now, you just get to use her whenever you please." Mycroft bit back. Well that at least explained how she was able to seemingly live in London long term with no worry about having to move back to the States at any given time.
"I thought you were a translator?" Sherlock asked, he set his files down on the table, moving closer-his eyes sweeping over her trying to get something about her to tell him why she was crying. If she worked for Mycroft and this other man it could very well be work related, she did seem the type to cry if she got something wrong.
"She is, you'd be surprised what the Government needs translated."
And then there was a quiet moment. Followed by Maddie's meek voice, it sounded...defeated. "Do I live here because your brother lives here and thus you are able to keep tabs on the two of us or is this just a coincidence?"
Mycroft just smiled. Sherlock was trying to put the pieces together but it didn't fit. Maddie was a translator who worked with the American government but decided to move to London (possibly to get away from her father and live on her own), in order to do this the British Government (Mycroft) accepted her but on his terms-and probably put Mrs. Hudson's ad right in front of her face without her knowing it. Why? Why did Mycroft do this?
Suddenly, Maddie became more interesting.
It was also then when Maddie decided that it was time to throw up whatever she had for dinner. Hand was pressed against her mouth and she made a run for her bathroom. The Government man trailing behind her.
"You don't gain anything by caring Sherlock. Agent Coulson cares, flew right out to come deliver bad news himself-and look at him, looking foolish trailing behind her. It's a weakness."
It really wasn't surprising, Mycroft spent the last decade saying that caring about other people was foolish. And to think Mycroft wondered why Sherlock didn't think he cared about him.
"Why?" Was Sherlock's question, he didn't have to verify what he meant-Mycroft knew. His brother took the time to move around Maddie's flat, coming to stand at her table-his hand touching Sherlock's microscope with slight interest.
"I don't owe many favors brother, but those that I do, I honor. It was requested that I look after the girl, and why not try and get her into Baker Street? After all, I do try my hardest to look after you as well…" Mycroft trailed off, the noise of Maddie retching echoed in the basement flat.
Sherlock fully realized he wasn't going to get more information out of Mycroft, at least not by asking questions. He would have to dig deeper later. "What was the bad news?" He asked, instead of inquiring more on Maddie's work.
The question made Mycroft change his expression. It became less haughty and more...subdued. "She'll have to tell you herself if she wishes, we were just informing her of something that happened back home that may or may not have an effect on her. And yes, I'm here because I figured you were getting restless waiting for me to 'abduct' her. I saw you bring her to St. Barts."
"You can't blame me for being curious as to why you hadn't made a move on her." Sherlock explained.
"Just remember, I'm not the only one out there watching." He paused, "I'm leaving, Agent Coulson can grab a taxi to get him back to the airport. I have no desire to listen to bodily functions of an employee."
He made his way towards her staircase, "Do be careful brother, I'd hate for something to happen to you."
And he was gone, leaving Sherlock at Maddie's table listening to her retch.
Not how he thought his night was going to go.
In her defense, before everything started that night she had enjoyed nearly half a pizza and almost a pint of ice cream. She always overate on the day after her self defense class. She wondered as she was throwing up if Natasha had known anything the day before. It was doubtful, but still she couldn't help but wonder.
She was over-reacting. Agent Coulson wouldn't say she was, but she knew Agent M (Well guess that cat was out of the bag, Mycroft-seriously what was up with those names?) thought she was over reacting, Sherlock probably thought so too (even though he had no idea what was going on). She was in the 'I'm so upset, and I'm annoying myself by being so upset' mode. She couldn't help it though, between the bad news, then Sherlock coming down (and her everlasting fear that her new friends would find out who she really was), followed by Agent M (her main boss here in London) being Sherlocks brother-she couldn't help but throw up.
Agent Coulson was telling her it would be okay, he didn't want her to react so badly. She just needed to know. No, she knew that wasn't the full truth. She needed to know in order to ask or not ask for them to inform her Dad. She was fully aware if her Dad found out about the break out and no one told her or him he would be livid. To be fair, even with her knowing-if he wasn't told he would be livid.
"I don't want him to know." She whispered, still bent over the toilet. Agent Coulson the wonderful man that he was, was holding her hair back. It was true, she didn't want her Dad to know. They were right-if her Dad knew he would get obsessive and anything important on the radar would go on the back burner. Maddie was good at being self sacrificing. Sacrifice meant not having her super-hero dad look out for her so he could be ready for the rest of the world. And really, what was the true likelihood of Connor finding her?
Agent Coulson patted her shoulder. He might have been nice to her, close to her, but he was still an Agent. He was still there for the greater good. "It's probably nothing, you just...deserved to know."
Yay, deserved to know the man who she thought was her father for the first fifteen years of her life (and who did in fact hurt her very badly) had escaped from prison. How lucky was she to deserve to know this knowledge. She couldn't help but be a little bitter. The acid from the pizza vomit made her throat hurt, and her head was pounding from her tears. She didn't feel like she'd be throwing up more so she moved, flushing the toilet as she went and started to rinse her mouth out at the sink.
Instead of looking at her reflection she looked at Agent Coulson. He looked tired. Like, something big was going on outside of everything, that needed his attention. He looked like this trip was a formality that had to be made in order to cover their asses later if her Dad found out. She figured he must have been trying to get her Dad to do something-and knew if this came out he wouldn't play nice.
SHIELD could keep things quiet as they saw fit, and she would be shocked if the story on the breakout made the newspapers. Yet, they just had to tell her...just in case. Now here she was, smelling like pizza vomit, standing in her bathroom with one of her bosses, with Sherlock in her living room probably wondering what the hell was going on.
Lovely.
"If this happens again...just...you have my permission not to tell me."
"Are you sure?" He was one of the first people that came to her hospital room after they found her, and before she found out that Tony Stark was her real father (which was something many people seemed to have known except for her). He did, even with SHIELD on his side, want what was best for her. She knew that.
"If you ever have any inkling he is in London, tell me. But other than that-I don't need to know. What I do need to know is what's going on? Why the sudden switch in translations, and why the worry about my Dad being focused on something?" She wasn't stupid. She had a feeling they didn't want her Dad to know because something big was coming up and if he had known about the break out he wouldn't care about anything else. It was all they could do originally to keep him from killing Connor.
"There is a project going on right now that could...well let's just say we may need your Dad's help and if he's focused on finding Connor we won't be able to use him to his full potential."
Well it was better then him being closed mouth about it-which she knew he would have been around Agent M...Mycroft. Dammit. Seriously was her life a god damned sitcom or something?
A really depressing sitcom, not the fun FRIENDS type.
What was worse was that yes, she really would like her Dad to know. She would have loved it if he went off and killed Connor, or at least got him back into jail. For a long time it was something she fantasized about, but unfortunately-the bigger picture mattered. Her Dad was pretty self absorbed most of the time and would easily go off the deep in to solve his daughters problem instead of the worlds. She wasn't self absorbed though, she knew deep down that not telling him was the right thing-because honestly what was the likelihood of Connor even finding her? Even if he did survive outside of jail for awhile.
"So I know you meant well, but basically this was just you guys trying to cover your asses so of my Dad does find out I'm the one to blame for requesting him not to be told?"
Agent Coulson was already slipping a piece of paper onto her bathroom counter top. It was a form that said just that, she knew the situation, and didn't want Iron Man to go buzzing around trying to fix the situation. She looked back at Coulson through the mirror, he looked like he was torn between being a friend and a boss. She shrugged, reached for the pen he pulled out of his jacket and signed her name on the bottom of the paper.
"I'm not dumb, I know that the bigger picture is what matters. I get it, I do. Doesn't mean I won't cry into my pillow tonight-but I get it." She reassured him. There it was, self sacrifice.
"I wish I could have came with better news."
She shrugged, handing the paper back to him. "I could have reacted better." She could have, it was the combination of the fear, then the fact Sherlock waltzed in, then the fact her boss in London WAS Sherlock's brother...or maybe she reacted perfectly. Either way she still felt like a bottle of wine and a huge piece of chocolate would set life right.
"It's just better to be safe than sorry, plus we really do need you to switch gears with translation and I was going to be in town anyway. Between police and our people looking, I'm sure he'll turn up in a ditch somewhere." He took the moment to look around her bathroom, as if finally feeling like he was able to take the glance around now that she wasn't falling into pieces. "Nice place."
"Kind of feels tainted. I don't think it's coincidence that I just happened to end up in the basement of the building my bosses brother lives in." She frowned, that actually did upset her. Probably her fathers doing, meetings in London, probably asked for her to be looked after. Dammit.
"To be fair, no matter where you lived your Dad was going to have a hand in it." He told her.
She led him out of the bathroom. No sense delaying the inevitable of Sherlock being in her living room any longer. It was surprising though to find that Mycroft had already left. Agent Coulson didn't think it was as surprising, at least it didn't look as if he did.
Sherlock was at her table, and for the first time he didn't look like he was preoccupied by anything. He looked worried, and maybe a little upset. She frowned, she would have preferred to find him in her kitchen looking over slides filled with 'body ick'. Instead he was sitting on a kitchen chair, his body bent forward, with his elbows on his knees.
Apparently it was a weird night for everyone.
"The first of the new books to translate will arrive first thing in the morning and we need them done as soon as possible. I'll make sure to let you know if we…" Coulson glanced over to Sherlock and then back to Maddie, "Figure out what's going on with the current situation." She knew that was meant about Connor, to let her know if they found him.
She smiled, "Thanks. Sorry for nearly hurling on your shoes."
He gave an amused smile back, and nodded. His hand lingered on her shoulder. She leaned into him and gave him a hug. Not quite a hug from her Dad, but Tony Stark would probably be surprised by how similar he and Coulson were. Sure her Dad had a huge chunk of illuminated metal in his chest, but they smelled the same, and hugged the same. The kind of hug where no matter how the hug starts, it starts off unsure, and then it feels like they never want to let go. Agent Coulson wasn't just her first hospital visitor after Connor went completely crazy, nor was he just her boss, he was the one that carried her out broken and battered. She truly did owe him her life.*
The hug ended, he left with a simple, "Be good."
And then she was alone with Sherlock. Her stomach twisted in knots again. How to explain this without giving every damn thing away? Why did this have to happen on book club night?
Sherlock truly did not know what to think. One moment his downstairs neighbor was a translator with Daddy issues, the next she worked for Mycroft and clearly had a decent standing with the government if to give bad news meant they went to her instead of calling her in. When she reappeared, saying goodbye to Agent Coulson, she didn't look good. Pale from throwing up, and while it was clear she had splashed water on her face Maddie's eyes were still slightly rimmed in black smudged eyeliner.
"You have questions?" She asked him, she might have been meek sometimes but she was far from stupid. He watched as she moved to her fridge, pulling out a wine bottle.
"Should you be drinking?" He asked, she had just thrown up, she was emotional…
"I'm an adult." She said. Something about the way she said it made the words sound like she was trying to convince herself instead of him, "I didn't know your brother was my boss here." She told him, struggling for a moment to open the bottle. It looked like she was going to cry again.
He rolled his eyes, and stood-joining her at the counter. He took the bottle and the corkscrew from her, "You're going to hurt yourself." He opened it for her. She gave him a small smile of thanks, and he was already moving to where she kept the glasses. He knew where they were from snooping around and from just being in her flat for extended periods of times.
He pulled out two. Alcohol was never his drug of choice, it dimmed instead of brightened. At least with the drugs he could still think-sometimes better than ever. However, it seemed like tonight would be a night where a glass of wine would do him good as well. It would also make her more apt to talk to him if he seemed like he was relaxing as well.
She poured the wine for both of them, surprised that he was joining but it did seem to please her a little. "You didn't know he was my brother?"
Maddie sighed and shook her head. She took a long sip of her wine and moved to the sofa, Sherlock just followed; he knew sometimes it was good to use force to get information (at least on a case where everything was time sensitive) but in this case- with this woman being patient would pay off more than being forceful.
He took a sip of the wine, it was actually good. He sat next to her, for the first time-her sofa was comfortable.
"I've only known him as Agent M, didn't really question it. Sometimes agent's are just letters. I'm sure he did that so I wouldn't put it together-Mycroft isn't a very common name, and if I ever saw the last name Holmes, I at least would have asked you."
It felt odd sitting on the sofa next to her, he now understood why it seemed that if she and John were sitting on it she was practically on his lap-it was the kind of sofa that sunk in deep and if two people were sitting on it, they were by default sitting close. Close enough where he could feel her body warmth, close enough to smell the perfume she wore. It was made worse (or better?) when she slipped her boots off and pulled her feet onto the sofa.
"Although, I suppose I am happy to at least know who he is-even if he's my boss here. I had been looking over my shoulder wondering if any strange men were going to pick me up." She confessed, a shrug. She sighed, deep, another gulp of her wine. It looked like she would be crying again soon.
"What are you hiding?" He asked softly. One moment she was a friend, and the next she worked for his brother-that did not sit well with him.
Wait...friend?
He looked over at her, she was looking down at her now nearly empty wine glass. He could see the way her lips trembled, her chest moving up and down slowly, noticed that she needed to paint her nails again. Sherlock knew from the start she was hiding something, but disregarded it simply because she had been very translucent with most things-she even let him roam her flat without a care. It just didn't sit well now to know that she was working for his brother and she needed to be watched as well, thus his brother figuring out a way to get her to Baker Street.
"It's nothing bad." She said with a whisper. "I just wanted to start over."
It was quiet for a really long time, and then she began to cry. He didn't like it, and he wasn't sure if it was because the tears seemed pointless or because it made his stomach twist to hear her upset.
She cried and he thought, and eventually when he wasn't even paying attention she managed to use him to keep her propped up. Perhaps it was just...coincidence that lead her to him...Baker street...not him. If she worked for the government as a translator and wanted to move to London due to a wealthy father who possibly had a favor Mycroft owed him-of course she would probably end up at Baker street. He didn't need to be a genius to know her father was the type to check up on her, occasionally on Sunday nights he would hear bits and pieces of her phone call to her father if Sherlock was home (and in his bedroom where the vent allowed him to hear). So, of course her father would want Mycroft to look after her. Easiest place for Mycroft to do that was Baker Street.
It wasn't some elaborate scheme against him. Certainly wasn't apart of Moriarty's grand plan, she didn't seem like that great of a liar. She was just genuinely...Maddie. With a few secrets that he couldn't exactly read.
For now though, he wouldn't ask anymore questions. Instead, they sat-over time she ended up wedged under his arm, crying into his chest. Her wine glass sitting on the coffee table, his still in his free hand. His other arm was wrapped around her, fingers sprawled over her ribcage feeling her breathe. While he was being...nice for whatever reason, he was also feeling how she was breathing-waiting for the wine to take effect, for the emotions to take effect, for her to pass out so he could move. Everything did have a motive, even being nice was to insure he would still have the ability to use her flat and possibly learn more and more about her without needing to prod.
He had to admit it was hard to hear her cry, and it made him wonder what her bad news was.
He would however, never admit that it felt nice to have her so close. She was warm and soft, despite being so small, she wasn't all bones. She, unlike the others in his life, didn't distract him from his thoughts as much. Being around her was just like being alone, perhaps some would find offense in that, but it wasn't that he forgot about her presence like say-John, but it was that her presence didn't bother him-he could still think...he could still work.
"How do you like your freedom?" He asked with a smile on his face, so wide and big it looked as if he was the chesire cat.
"It's bettah than I expected." His accent was strong, a deep southern drawl to it. They were currently in a hotel room, a posh place, paid for by a few recent wrongdoings. He knew the way to a criminals heart (hah) was to show them you could make life good for them.
This man looked like he had been missing the good life for far too long. His skin was darkly tanned from being outside with little sun protection over the years. He had rough scars over his arms, and a rather large scar across his neck. Outside of that he looked remarkably well. It was amazing what a good shower and a change of clothes would do.
"I hear a lot of people are looking for you now." He started, pouring himself some tea. Between the two men sat a large amount of food, brunch was always so delicious. "Did my man have any trouble?"
"No sir, before I knew what was happenin' I was shoved on some private plane an' here I am." Polite. He was surprised. He didn't have to teach him that he was his superior in this situation.
"Can't have a criminal of your status walking through normal security." He had his ways, he was the only consulting criminal in the world, of course he had friends in all the right places, and money to do with what he so pleased.
"I was told my daughter is livin' over here." Straight to business it seemed.
"I didn't think she was your daughter…" He loved being the person that poked at an old emotional wound.
"She IS my daughter, I raised that little bitch, fed her and clothed her-she is MINE." Anger issues, red face, hitting the table with a balled up fist. You could find out a lot about people, by how they reacted.
"Well now." He smiled, amused by the situation. "Before we get to that matter, we need to discuss what's expected of you. I didn't pluck you out of the middle of no where due to the kindness of my heart."
"What do ya want?" More subdued, the mans blue eyes raised to meet his. Sebastian was the only other person who tended to look in his eyes. It showed promise.
"Your daughter." Might as well appease him, "Happens to be living with someone who I am very interested in playing with. He thinks he is just so good, and I'd like to prove to him that he's not." Somewhat the truth, but there were other reasons as well. Reasons that he did not need to know. "It took awhile to figure out who she was, and once we did I knew we should bring you into the game."
"The game?"
"Not important. What is important is that you work with me and help me, when I say jump you jump, and in return very soon you'll get to hold your dear daughter as close to you as you wish."
"Why does this help you? I'm not a stupid man, what's your angle?"
He laughed, "If I thought you were stupid you wouldn't be here right now. Let's just say your little girl seems to be getting close to this man. It would be so much fun to see what happens if she were to get hurt. I'd like to see where his heart lies."
"After what she did to me…" The man's nostrils flared, his lips pursed, it was pure anger. Oh god, and it felt so good to be around. Just bathe him in it, he loved that feeling. Pure anger was pure power. The man was so blinded by it, he would be able to make him do anything. "Prison isn't kind to my type."
"Which type is that, child rapists or preachers?"
"She wasn' that young, was all woman where it counted."
Okay then.
"So, do we have a deal? You work for me, and when I allow it, you are able to interact with her-and do what you please?"
"What happens after?"
He smiled, he liked working with intelligence.
"Well after depends on how you do, there might not be an after, or you might just work for me from now on forever and ever." He sing-songed.
The man nodded, he knew he didn't have the option to say no. No meant death, that much was obvious. "We have a deal Mr. Moriarty."
"Oh c'mon, call me Jim-we might as well be best buds now with the work we're about to do."
It had been four days since the night she cried herself to sleep on Sherlock. She was impressed he hadn't dug for answers, and slightly worried he might just look on his own. When she had woken up the next day she was in her bed. She was still dressed in her clothes (thank god), but she was under her covers. It was obvious Sherlock had carried her into her room and laid her in bed. Since that night she hadn't seen him, but he had texted her things. Some of the more recent texts were;
SH: Do you play piano or is it just for looks?
SH: Did you go out with Molly last night, I thought I heard her?
SH: Is John with you tonight?
It was actually interesting how similar he was to her dad as far as texting went. She wondered what freud would have to say about that, or the other similarities that were adding up.
Mads: He's coming over for dinner, you're welcome to join.
She found the best way to deal with everything was to not deal and ignore it. There was no word on if Connor had been found yet, and the best way to ignore it was to work. She had a lot of books delivered, and a lot of work to go through, therefore the last four days were just filled with her falling into work. She did go out with Molly the previous night, mostly because they had made plans already. That was the same reason John was coming down for dinner; they already had plans. She supposed it helped, otherwise she would have just sat in her flat working and ignoring the world in general.
It was amazing how having friends made her feel normal, like it was going to be okay.
SH: Hardly wish to hear the two of you chatter on over nothing.
Ouch that stung, but that was Sherlock. It wasn't like she was expecting more.
SH: It's good that you're spending time with friends.
Well that was the more she didn't expect. She didn't have time to respond before he had texted once more,
SH: Enjoy your dinner with John.
She smiled at the phone and set it down, it really was nice to have friends to help her get her mind off of things. She had been cooking for the last hour, music was playing in the background, and she was busy chopping up vegetables for a salad. In her own flat, in London, with friends nearby-she truly did feel silly for worrying so much.
When John knocked she had been setting the table, a quick shout of "C'mon in!" followed with her hearing him unlocking her door, and his heavy steps down the stairs.
"That smells so good." He proclaimed, stepping into her flat, looking tired and happy like usual. She assumed, he had came directly over from work and as soon as he was in her flat he was already making a beeline for her fridge for to get a drink.
"It's just stew." and homemade bread, and a really nice salad, and a sponge cake… "Sarah still not cooking that well?"
It didn't take John long to realize that Sarah was a rubbish cook.
He had pulled out a beer and was quickly popping the cap off, and after a long pull she could tell that he was relaxed. "Eggs aren't supposed to be black." He said with humor.
"No, I don't think they are." She agreed with a laugh, moving to the table to spoon stew into the bowls she already placed there. John shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair. With how everyone treated Baker Street she was surprised any of them even had doors. It seemed they all truly enjoyed the others company, the only time it didn't was when Sherlock was in one of his moods.
"Work been busy? I saw the other day you were getting a lot of boxes." John politely waited for her to grab her own drink (a diet coke) and sit down before he started to inhale dinner. She wondered if he had time to eat that day at all.
"Yeah, they have me on an active project right now-so they needed to send me more books."
"How does a translator get active projects?" He asked, curious. She didn't mind, his curiosity was different than Sherlock's. Sherlock, when he was asking questions it was to fill the urge to know everything, when John did it, it was conversation, it was getting to know you.
"Hmm, let me put it this way-there are a lot of things out there and people who stick to really old rules and agendas. If you don't know certain things you might offend, get off on the wrong foot with a hidden tribe..."
John paused, dunking a piece of bread into the stew. "I don't think I get it."
"Let's just say I translate history out of these books and make notes on anything I find interesting, maybe there was a weird object in the sky one year-could have been an asteroid or comet and if so, would that appear again anytime soon?-or maybe in a certain culture they used to worship old Gods and tracked their belief system on that and it could be a nice gesture in current days if you knew that and brought some kind of gift based on that." That was the best way to explain it without fully explaining it. Her job really was just to translate old texts, but they mattered now because they were finding out that certain things were true (like God's) and even finding alien text out there to translate.
"Old Gods? Like Odin or something?"
She coughed into her drink, "Yeah."
Not like she could outright say she was studying old God's because they might really actually exist and they needed to know everything there was on them. Nope, couldn't say that one without looking like a crazy person.
"I didn't know the Government studied that kind of thing."
She shrugged, "Not all branches do, and I mean, a lot of this stuff is already known and translated-but sometimes a second translation doesn't hurt, plus I can flag anything that seems interesting."
"Like a comet."
"There ya go." She smiled, "Like a comet."
They were quiet for a few minutes, she hadn't realized how hungry she had been, and it seemed like John hadn't eaten well in days. He had moved to help himself to seconds when he brought the conversation back.
"Did anything happen between you and Sherlock the other night? He's been up in the flat a lot, usually he's down here at least for a few hours some nights."
She frowned as she chewed on a slice of bread, she knew Sherlock hadn't been to her flat the last few nights, but he had been texting her a great deal so it didn't feel that different. John sat back down, tucking into his second bowl of stew. "I had some bad news the other night-it's not important but I got kind of weepy on him."
"You cried on him?" John had his brows raised sky high in disbelief.
"It kind of just...happened. One moment we were drinking wine on the sofa…"
"Sherlock was drinking wine? What?"
She glared at him, "One moment we were having some wine-he walked in during a...bad moment, so I think he felt like partaking maybe would help me somehow. I don't know, anyway I started to cry-and you know how my sofa is, how if you sit you sink and if someone else sits you sink together?"
He nodded.
"That's what happened, and I started on his shoulder, and eventually I think I was sobbing into his shirt. He put me to bed and that was that."
"He put you to bed?"
"I mean, I kinda passed out on him. And I woke up the next day in my bed so I'm assuming he carried me."
"You were crying so hard you passed out?" John, he cared. It was nice.
"It was just some unexpected bad news plus stress."
"Do you want to talk about it?" It wasn't prodding, just the offer to have someone listen. She appreciated that.
"Nah, it's okay-work took my mind off it, and I went out with Molly last night and then you're here today!"
"I am here today, I know I've been a little absent lately with Sarah and all…"
She smiled at him and grabbed her empty bowl and headed over to toss it into the sink. "Trust me, it's okay. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."
He followed her into the kitchen, they continued to make small talk while they did dishes. Like usual it was her washing and him drying. Occasionally she'd smear bubbles on him and he'd hit her with the towel he was drying with.
This was safe. This was nice.
And then the gunshots went off upstairs. It was loud enough that she jumped and dropped a glass, causing it to shatter on her floor. John was already running, shouting for her to stay there as he rushed up to see what was going on. There was another gunshot and she flinched, unsure what to do.
Considering that the gunshots stopped, and she heard John yelling upstairs (he didn't close her front door on the way up) she figured everything was okay. The issue was that there was broken glass all over the floor and she had bare feet at the moment. Regardless of how careful she was when she tried to move for the broom she still felt a sharp awful pain in the bottom of her foot.
Dammit.
By the time John stormed back down to her flat she was sitting on her counter top trying to dig a piece of glass out of the heel of her foot. Not classy, but wasn't like she could do much else with glass in her foot and she didn't want to drag blood all the way into the bathroom where she could have tweezed the glass out.
"He was bored! He's bloody insane!"
"What?" She asked, not bothering to look up from what she was attempting to do. The tips of her fingers were getting bloody. It wasn't a bad cut, it was just that there was glass stuck in her. She was never one to panic over blood anymore.
"He was shooting off a gun because he was bored, told him off-I'll go to Sarah's tonight-you're bleeding! The glass, oh God Maddie I'm sorry-left you in the middle of that broken glass."
"It's okay, really-I just didn't want to get blood on the carpet." She explained, he was already moving-first he grabbed the broom she kept tucked away and casually swept the glass shards off to one side to be taken care of later. He had a look at her foot after batting her hands away.
"I think you pushed it in deeper, I can't tell-no offense but the lighting in your kitchen is awful."
She laughed at that, "Yeah I know."
Before she knew it he turned around in front of her after covering her foot with a kitchen towel. "Hop on."
"What?" She blinked, staring at the back of his head for a moment.
"Hop on, your bathroom has better lighting, and this way you don't have to worry about getting blood everywhere."
"Um."
"I'm stronger than I look Maddie, I was in the army for christsakes-hop on." He was getting a little snippy-probably due to Sherlock's antics so she wasn't about to question him further.
First her arms went around his neck, and then she scooted herself forward until his arms had hold of her legs. Soon enough he was piggybacking her to the bathroom. She put her chin on his head, and gave a soft smile. "My mom would carry me around like this when I was a kid, especially at parades or after church."
He shifted his weight as they got to her bathroom and managed to turn on the light without dropping her, "I used to carry my sister around like this too." Both memories that were happy, but verged on sad memories because her mother wasn't around, and his sister wasn't like she used to be. He sat her down on her bathroom counter, "First aid?"
"Under the sink, probably buried in the back-I haven't needed it yet."
He was rummaging around under her sink, "Do you need this much bubble bath?" As if to accentuate the point two of her bubble bath bottles fell out from under the sink.
"I don't have that much."
"Maddie, you have seven bottles down here-and one of them is a gallon-you have a problem."
"Do not."
"Do too."
"I think I just dripped foot blood on your head."
He moved from under the sink, first aid kit in hand, feeling the back of his head. "Let's never speak of this moment again."
She smiled, he laughed, and went to work on her foot. It wasn't pleasant, but he managed to get the shard out and then simply bandaged it up. He did take the time to help her finish cleaning, and he didn't refuse the left-overs she gave him to take to Sarah's. Leaving her alone with the phrase, "If he bothers you too much just give me a call, he seems to be in a mood."
When she was all alone she could just look around and sigh.
It wasn't much later when she was working at her table with a translation, when an explosion shattered one of her windows and caused her ears to make a loud pitched ringing sensation. It left her heart thumping and her mind racing as she sat, cursing Sherlock who had been hoping all along for something interesting to happen.
*The whole Coulson/Maddie thing will be explained more later, there are going to be some heavy flashback scenes in future chapters. To give you a little taste (and maybe clear up some stuff), let's just say before Maddie knew that Tony Stark was her dad, SHIELD was watching her (even more-so after her mother had died). With that, they were able to be the first ones on the scene after her step-father went (more) crazy.