Hey Guys! Sorry this is late but Friday was a little hectic. The language Gwen speaks in this chapter is Italian, I used google translate for a lot of it so sorry for any mistakes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, anything recognizable is not mine.
Happy Reading!
When she had first seen the strange man standing in the doorway, Gwen had been a little unnerved, but seeing as every single one of the avengers was in the room between him and Peter, she wasn't too worried.
But something in the back of her mind was trying to get her attention. She knew that voice. But she couldn't place where. He wasn't a lab rat, she remembered faces very well and his wasn't one of them. Besides, she had good feelings associated with the voice. Being happy and, amazingly, memories of her mother were coming to the forefront of her mind.
"Coulson was not kidding, Director Fury, when he said that there was a five year old in the tower," she heard Steve say. "He and his sister are going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future."
Fury. She knew that name. Suddenly, everything clicked. She stepped into the kitchen. "Uncle Blackbeard?"
Gwen knew she was right when he turned and she saw the eyepatch. With unadulterated joy, she launched herself at the man she thought of as an uncle.
"Gwen, you're getting a little too big for tackle hugs," Nick Fury replied, returning the hug, much to the shock of every one of the Avengers. "Sei cresciuto. (You've grown.)"
"Sono passati otto anni da quando mi ha visto zio Nick (It's been eight years since you saw me last uncle Nick.)," Gwen replied in the same language. Her mouth started running faster than most people could comprehend that early in the morning, but Nick Fury answered all her questions and replied just as quick.
The kitchen was silent when Gwen finally wound down. Peter, after seeing his sister's reaction to the man, had gone it hid behind Gwen's legs, peeking up at the scary man.
"Uncle Blackbeard?" Tony asked, sounding like he was choking on something.
"I was seven and on a pirate kick at the time," Gwen said, picking up Peter and setting him on her hip. "Can you blame me? Peter, this is Uncle Nick. Remember, I told you about him?"
Peter nodded and hid his face in his sister's hair. Gwen smiled and placed a kiss to the top of her brother's head. She didn't blame him for being shy around the man in a black trenchcoat and eyepatch. She'd done the same thing when she'd first been introduce to the man.
"Hold on," Stark broke in. "Tony's not following this, Tony's very, very lost. Uncle Blackbeard?"
"You've been watching too much tv Tony," Bruce interrupted. "Can we please take this to the rec room? I have a feeling that this might take a while."
"Director," Natasha spoke up once they were all settled on the couches, "How do you know Gwen?"
"My mother and I were foreigners to the US when I was little. Uncle Nick was sent to make sure we were settled and that we weren't a threat," Gwen said.
"I thought you and Peter were brother and sister," Clint said, speaking up for the first time.
"Half," Gwen replied, holding Peter tighter to her. "Different fathers. I never knew mine but mom always said he was a brave warrior and that he died a hero. For all intents and purposes though, I considered Richard Parker my father."
"Where were you from originally?" Natasha asked.
"Everywhere, we moved around a lot. But the first place I can remember is Ireland."
"How many languages can you speak?" Steve asked, curious.
"Four fluently, English, Italian, Gaelic and Dutch. I can get by in about ten others. I'm probably about as well traveled as you all are."
"Why would Fury be sent after you to make sure you weren't a threat?" Clint asked. Gwen's eyes darkened at the question. She didn't want to think about that.
"She and her mother were chased across Europe and Asia since Gwen was less than a week old. When she was seven, S.H.I.E.L.D. took and interest in what the people who were chasing them were wasting resources tracking down. I was sent to contact her mother," Fury explained.
Natasha narrowed her eyes. "You were sent in to find out if they needed to be eliminated," the russian spy accused.
"I was sent to find if there was a threat that S.H.I.E.L.D. needed to eliminate. I wasn't supposed to kill unless absolutely necessary," Fury replied evenly.
Gwen was hugging Peter to her so tightly that he started squirming in her arms. She loosened her grip and smoothed his hair absently. Fury had been sent in with orders to identify their threat risk and to take them out if found that they posed one. She remembered the day that she and Fury had finally come face to face.
Gwen loved Venice. She loved that there was water everywhere and that you had to take a boat to get to the grocery store. She didn't even mind the rain, it reminded her of London.
"Mama, desidero dormire (Mom, I want sleep)," she complained. They had taken the train that morning from Austria and had arrived in the city two hours ago. So far they'd done nothing but walk around in the rain. She was wet, she was tired and she was hungry. She knew better than to complain about the hunger. Her mother was doing the best that she could and Gwen knew that her mother was even hungrier than her.
"Conosco, Gwen, Conosco. Aspetta ancora un po', ok? (I know, Gwen, I know. Just wait a little longer, ok?)" Her mother's voice was kind and gentle, holding Gwen's hand as they walked the streets of the watery, wet city. Her mother kept glancing behind them. She was always doing that, making sure that they weren't followed. That whoever was after them wasn't going to get them. Gwen had asked her mother several times exactly who was after them and why. She'd never gotten a good answer.
After another hour's walking, they finally found a place that her mother decided would be good enough protection for them and Gwen collapsed in a heap in the corner, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the ground.
It was several days later when her mother came back from getting supplies looking worried that Gwen knew something had happened. It had happened enough times before. She knew without being told to pack up her backpack. She shoved her two changes of clothes and extra pair of shoes in the worn pink, Winx Club backpack, then carefully made sure that Rosie, her stuffed dog, was securely in place.
The whole process was done in less than three minutes. Mamma had always told her that she had to be the fastest seven year old in history at packing her bags up. She looked over to where her mother was standing in the doorway of the abandoned building they had been staying in. Gwen took one last glance around the room to make sure that there was nothing to say that they had ever been there. Another trick of survival taught to her by her mother.
As they walked, Gwen's hand clasped almost desperately in her mother's, Gwen noticed her mother still on edge. Normally once they were on the move, her mother relaxed knowing that they were getting out of danger. She never let anyone see her.
Her mother had just thrown a last glance over her shoulder when she looked down at Gwen with wide eyes. "Gwen, when I say so, you run. Run and don't look back." Her mother made it a point to always at least try to speak in the language of the country they were in. The fact that she wasn't bothering to try and blend in spoke volumes about the situation that they were in.
Gwen nodded seriously, slipping her hand out of her mother's and immediately missing the warmth. Her mother looked behind them again. "Three," her mother whispered as they came up to an ally. "Two. One. Be safe."
They passed by the mouth of the little back street and suddenly what had been mother and daughter walking together, became a singular woman praying for her daughter to stay safe.
As soon as she had melted into the shadows of the ally, Gwen took off at a sprint. She may have been seven, but her mother said to never let that hold her back. She could do anything adults could do and more if she simply focused and really willed herself to do it.
She wound her way through the city, using what she remembered of her mother's map to get where she needed to go. It was the first plan her mother had ever taught her. If they ever got separated, Gwen was to go to a previously determined point in the city and wait for her mother and to stay out of sight.
In Venice, they had decided on the Rialto bridge. It was always somewhere big that they chose, that meant there was always a crowd, meaning it would be easier for Gwen to disappear. Her mother never had any trouble finding her afterwards, no matter how big the crowd. If her mother didn't find her before nightfall, Gwen's emergency plan number two was to find a safe place to stay the night and then move onto their backup meeting place the next day.
So far, they'd never had to use emergency plan number two, but Gwen had a sinking feeling in her gut that that was about to change. She finally got the the bridge, which was flooded with people and tourists, even this early in the season. She found a corner to tuck herself into, her back against a wall with three exit points and clear lines of sight. Shivering in the late April chill, she settled herself in to wait.
Meeting point number two was Piazza di San Marco. St. Mark's Square. Gwen had spent the night before in a covered gondola, the bobbing of the boat rocking her to sleep. She had awoken before dawn and left before the owner had shown up. Then she had sat in a corner of a church just off the piazza and waited for her mother to show up. Her mother always showed up. Sometimes she was a little late, but she always showed up.
As night fell and the church closed for the night, Gwen had been at a loss. They hadn't ever had to use plan two before, her mother had always come for her after about six hours to make sure that whoever was on their tail had been shaken.
They'd never made a plan three, they hadn't ever had to use plan two so they didn't think they needed to have a back-up for the back-up. As she slipped out of the church, Gwen looked around, checking for possible people who might hurt her. San Marco's was lit up brilliantly. There were people selling little light up flyers that you launched into the air with a rubber band. It reminded her of the fireworks show she had seen back in Sweden.
The bands for the restaurants were playing. She thought she recognized something from the show, My Fair Lady. Her mother had taken her to see that two years ago in Finchley. That night had been memorable for more than just the show. She glanced to her right, to the shops that lined the piazza.
Gwen frowned. There was a man there in a black windbreaker. He was black and bald, but that wasn't what caught her eye. He was wearing sunglasses, at night. Normally blind people wore sunglasses no matter what time of day it was, but she didn't see a cane or guide dog or someone helping him around the city. He wasn't blind and it was nowhere near bright enough to need sunglasses. That made him suspicious and therefore, a possible threat.
She turned left towards the main exit out of the square and turned left again, walking past the bridge of sighs. She looked back. The man in black was there, wandering along like any other tourist seeing Venice by the light of night. Gwen walked over another bridge and then turned left, deeper into the heart of the island. In one of the little squares that littered the city, she ducked into the mouth of a dark side street to watch. The man showed up in the square seconds later, looking around.
She heard a few curses in english. The man was probably an American then. That was odd. Normally the people who came after them spoke Irish. They must have found someone outside to take them down. Gwen slipped deeper into the shadows as the man looked around. Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around her. One around her waist, pinning her arms to her side and one clamped tightly over her mouth.
Gwen reacted immediately. She bit down hard on the hand over her mouth and kicked behind her. Her mother had always told her that a surefire way to get anyone off of her was to kick them in the private parts. It wasn't only guys who were susceptible to a good kick. The hands loosened and Gwen took the opportunity to slip out of them. The hands came at her again, one managed to get a grip on her arm and started pulling her back to the person.
Gwen didn't bother trying to fight against the force pulling on her, instead she went with it. She ran head first to the person, ducking at the last moment to slide between her attacker's legs. She gripped the wrist holding her and twisted. While she had him distracted and his balance compromised, she swiped a leg out from under the man and forced him forward. The alley she had hidden in was small and narrow, barely wide enough for one person to walk in. She held back a wince as she heard something hard come into contact with the brick wall. That was going to hurt.
Gwen ran again, keeping to the back streets and dark alleys. She could hear footsteps behind her, her only thought being that she had to keep ahead of them, she had to keep running. Finally, she couldn't run anymore. She couldn't breathe and her side felt like it was on fire. She couldn't hear footsteps behind her anymore, but knew that the danger hadn't passed. Her body was telling her that she needed to find somewhere to rest for the night before she collapsed. In a corner of a random piazza, Gwen settled in for a long night.
The night felt longer than the last two days put together. She dozed intermittently, jerking awake every thirty minutes or so. Each time she checked to make sure that she was still alone before drifting off again. An hour before dawn, she woke to the sound of voices. She froze, straining her ears to listen. The voices were speaking in Irish, that wasn't good.
Gwen snuck closer quietly, just so she was close enough to hear what was being said. When she heard what the men were talking about, she wished she hadn't. They had captured her mother and were looking for her. They also said something about another player. As these two weren't the same men from last night, she could only assume that was who they were talking about..
She had heard enough to know she needed to get out of the city. She slipped away, forcing herself to move forward though all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep. She wanted to be warm. She wanted to not be hungry. But more than anything, she wanted her mother there. Her mother to tell her that she was alright and that she wouldn't let anything happen to her, to tell her that they were safe.
There was a Vaporetto stop a few streets over and the lines would start running in just under two hours. It was risky and they would probably be monitoring the water buses well, but it was her best shot at getting to the train station and out of Venice. She wasn't quite sure what to do about a ticket yet, but she would cross that bridge when she got to it.
As she sat on the hard bench and watched the sun rise, she saw people begin to start their day. Lights came on in houses and the sounds of kids shouting and people yelling to get up met her ears. Half an hour later and the first Vaporetto of the morning came down the river. The attendants looked surprised at someone so young standing there with no parent in sight.
"Dov'e' tua madre? (Where's your mother?)" one of them asked, getting down on one knee to look her in the eye.
"Mia Madre sta dormendo (My mother is sleeping)," Gwen replied. "Ho bisogno di andare a casa di mia zia. Lei mi sta aspettando." (I need to go to my aunt's house. She is waiting for me.)
The attendant nodded, still looking unconvinced, but she allowed Gwen to get on the boat bus once the girl flashed a pass that her mother had gotten for her a few days prior.
The ride was long and a bit boring, but Gwen entertained herself by checking her stuff and making sure she had what she needed. Then she pulled out Rosie and held her to her chest.
"Hai un bel cane (You have a beautiful dog)," said the man sitting behind her. He had gotten on a few stops ago and he didn't look like any of the men chasing after her. He looked like he was born and raise Venetian.
"Grazie (Thank you)," Gwen said shyly. There weren't many children born in Venice, as a result, many of the older generation often spoiled younger kids. Talks like the current one on the Vaporetto weren't uncommon.
"Come si chiama? (What's her name?)" the man asked.
"Si chiama Rosa (Her name is Rose)," Gwen replied.
"Un bel nome (A beautiful name)," the man said.
"Grazie," Gwen said again as the bus drew up to the pier a stop away from where she wanted to be. She stood up. "Ciao!" she called to the old man over her shoulder as she skipped off the boat.
She got onto dry land and began walking in the direction of the train station. You never got off at the stop you wanted, always one or two stops away, to confuse anyone who might be following you on your true destination.
She was nearly there when a heavy hand dropped onto her shoulder. The grip wasn't strong enough to leave bruises, but it was enough to make sure she couldn't get away easily.
"Don't scream or I'll make sure you never see your mother again," a harsh voice growled in her ear.
"Mi dispiace (I'm sorry)," Gwen said. "Io non capisco l'inglese. (I don't understand English)"
"Non urlari o ti assicurarsi di non vedere tua madre (Don't scream or I'll make sure you never see your mother again)," the man hissed in her ear though they both knew that she spoke perfect English. "Si arrive tranquillamente (You will come quietly)."
Gwen wriggled a bit in his hold, trying to break free. The grip suddenly became so tight that she was afraid she would get her shoulder broken. The man, knowing for the moment that she couldn't get away, dug his hand into his pocket and brought out a phone which he flipped open and began speaking rapidly into. When he was finished, the man put his phone away and started dragging Gwen with him.
Suddenly, from behind them, Gwen heard her name shouted.
"Gwen! Gwen! Dove sei? (Where are you?)" The crowds parted to show what appeared to be a man frantically looking for someone. The man's eyes lit up when he saw Gwen in the man's grip. "Gwen!"
A few seconds later, Gwen found herself enveloped in a tight hug. As quickly as it had come, the man pulled away and spoke to the man who had been holding her.
"Grazie per la ricerca di mia figlia (Thank you for finding my daughter)," the man who had hugged her said loudly. "Ero cosi spaventato. Pensavo di aver perso Gwen. (I was so scared. I thought I had lost you Gwen.)"
The man was making a scene. If the other man tried to take Gwen away from who everyone else perceived to be her father, the police would get called. Gwen knew enough about the people chasing her to know they wanted to avoid that at all costs.
With a murderous glint in his eye, the man who had tried to kidnap her told the new man he was very welcome and then stalked away. Gwen used the momentary lapse in the new man's attention to try and slip away. His hand grabbed hers before she had even moved her foot.
Gwen looked up at the man, getting a chance to study him for the first time. "Mi chiamo Clark Gregg. (My name is Clark Gregg)," the man told her, "E non c'e bisogno di avere paura di me. Si puo parlare in inglese? (And you don't have to be afraid of me. Can we please speak in English?)"
"You're the man who grabbed me last night," Gwen accused, narrowing her eyes.
The man looked sheepish. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. See, me and my partner have been watching you and your mom for a while now. She's in trouble and there is a team extracting her as we speak. You looked like you could use a bit of help."
"Those people aren't the only ones after us. How do I know that you're not just trying to get us just like them?" Gwen said, trying to get her wrist back. The grip tightened, but not enough to hurt. She still wasn't getting out of it any time soon.
"You don't and at the moment there's nothing I can do to convince you that I'm telling the truth," the man replied. "But it's my job to get you and your mother somewhere safe and I intend to do that."
They were in the middle of staring each other down when the man's phone rang.
"Gregg," he answered. "I have her, stopped a man trying to rabbit with her. What's the situation?" He listened attentively for a moment before he pulled the cell away from his ear and handed the phone to Gwen. She looked at it suspiciously before taking it.
"Hello," she said tentatively and nearly sobbed at the voice that spoke on the end.
"Gwen, are you alright? I'm so sorry I wasn't there to meet you but I got held up." Her mother's voice was so good to hear. She sounded tired and like she needed a few days rest, but she was alive.
"I'm fine mamma," Gwen said. "I was worried about you."
"I know you were Gwen, but you did very well. Now, I need you to listen really carefully to me." Gwen listened as her mother abruptly switched into her native language. After a few moments, Gwen handed the phone back to Clark Gregg.
The man listened for a few moments before hanging up without saying good bye. "What did your mother tell you?" he asked Gwen.
They hadn't been able to understand her mother then. "That she was safe and that you were taking me to see her and to be good," Gwen replied.
"I will be once she gets checked out by our doctors," Clark Gregg replied, holding out his hand for Gwen to take.
Gwen looked at him sharply, ignoring the hand. "She's hurt?" she demanded. "Where is she?"
"Calm down. She'll be fine. Whoever's after you two roughed her up a bit and she's exhausted from the events of the last few days. Nothing life threatening, I swear." He held out his hand again. "How about we find you something to eat? Gelato sound good?"
So that was how he was going to deal with her. He was going to treat her like a little kid and try to buy her trust with sweets. "Gelato sounds great," she replied. "But I shouldn't."
"Sure you can," the man replied as she took his hand. "I won't even tell your mom."
"Not my mom I'm worried about," Gwen replied, "It's my stomach. I haven't eaten in nearly four days. Something that rich in sugar is going to do more harm than good." She tilted her head and looked up at him. "What do I call you?"
"You can call me Mr. Clark. Why don't we get you some food?"
They had wandered around Venice for a while before they finally found a place that Gwen wanted to eat at.
She ordered spinach quiche and tea. The waiter had raised his eyebrows when she'd ordered the tea, but hadn't spoke. Mr. Clark had ordered coffee and a pastry.
"Normally kids your age don't drink tea. And if they do, they take it with a ton of sugar and milk," Mr. Clark observed.
"We stayed in London for a while," Gwen said. When the waiter returned moments later with her tea, her eyes lit up. She dumped the tea bag in the mug and filled it up with hot water. Then she began counting the seconds in her head. It needed to steep for five minutes and she didn't have a watch.
"Do you want me to time it for you?" Mr. Clark asked. Gwen blinked at him, thrown off from her counting.
"Yes please. Can you tell me when five minutes is up?"
"Of course. What language was your mother speaking to you?"
"Her native language," Gwen said evasively. "When do I get to go see her?"
"As soon as we finish breakfast. Where is your mother from?" Mr. Clark asked.
"Don't know."
That seemed to throw the man off. "You mean, she's never told you?"
"It's safer that I don't know," Gwen said, her face deathly serious for a seven year old. "And even if I did know, I probably wouldn't tell you."
Mr. Clark frowned. Gwen stifled the urge to roll her eyes. Just because he was treating her to breakfast didn't mean that she trusted him.
"I thought your mother told you to be good and do what I tell you?" he asked. The parent card. Oldest play in the book and second only to the guilt card.
"She said to be good. She never told me to trust you or tell you anything you don't need to know," Gwen corrected. "Don't twist my words. She'll tell you what you want to know, not me. Unless she tells me to say anything, my mouth is sealed. Now, is my five minutes up yet?"
The man looked put-out, almost sullen as he nodded his head. Gwen took the tea bag out and added what she liked. Two splenda packets and a dash of milk. She took a sip. Perfect.
They were silent for a while. The waiter came with their food and they were still silent. Gwen ate as quickly as she could without getting herself sick on the first real meal she'd eaten in days. It would do her no good if she couldn't keep it down.
When she was done, Mr. Clark paid the check and they left. "Do I get to see my mom now?" Gwen asked.
"Yes Gwen, I'm taking you to see her." Mr. Clark held her hand as they made their way through the city. They came to a stop next to a normal looking house right beside the water. He flipped up a panel beside the door and pressed his hand on the flat surface. A moment later, the door was opened.
Gwen rushed in before Mr. Clark could even take a step and shouted for her mother. She heard a weak answering call and followed the sound upstairs to a room.
Sorry guys, had to split up the flashback in two parts. I promise that we meet Fury in the next one though. Let me know what you guys think and anyone who can tell me what tv show I very, very subtly referenced in this chapter gets a shout out in my next update.
See you all next chapter!
CaseClosed621
