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Kelly sighed darkly as James's voice floated through her room. Her head felt strangely empty. There was no pounding, now voices, there was nothing. Her head was finally her own. She had finally done it the day before. After six months of torturous training, she's finally done it. She finally saw nothing. She finally didn't hear anything when she touched someone.
She threw the blankets off her and started to get dressed. The first day of her stay she told James to go away ten times before he sent Chris. Chris told her six times to get up and when that didn't work, they sent Wilson, who threw her with icy cold water. She did not care to repeat that experience.
She brushed her hair out and tied them high as usual and splashed some water onto her face and walked out to the kitchen. She would shower when training was over. She wasn't taking three showers a day in this place. She had barely thirty minutes before the water would turn cold, and that was her reason for not showering in the mornings. It seemed like the rooms were on timers. If she didn't shower in the mornings she had an hour's warm water in the afternoon. It was also a waste to shower, get all sweaty and shower again.
She walked out to the kitchen. As always they were already up. She knew James let her sleep at least two hours longer than they did. As usually she ignored them. The only ones she spoke to were Chris and James. She stayed the hell far away from Victor and Wilson more often than not pissed her off, so she stayed away from him as well. She hadn't had much to do with John or David of Fred, and she kept it that way. The less she had to do with them, the less the chances of her getting attached to them.
She grabbed her plate of cookies. She's eaten cookies since she was six-years old for breakfast. After day six, when she got up, James would have her apple juice and cookies ready, and six painkillers as well. She left the painkillers where he had left them and took her plate and glass and went to sit with Chris, like it was routine to do.
She ignored them and ate in silence. She just quietly watched as James and David threatened each other. She watched as Victor promised Wilson a torturously slow and painful death if he didn't shut up in the next few minutes. She watched as Fred told John about the new girl he's met and how he loved her and was going to marry her one day. She watched as Chris played with a light bulb, flicking it on, then off.
She liked watching him do that. Strangely it calmed her down, at first it allowed her to pretend her head wasn't pounding and to sleep when James wasn't around to keep her company.
That was what she liked about them. There had been nights where neither James nor Chris got anymore than maybe three or two hours of sleep because they were trying to clam her down while she cried herself to sleep. The first two weeks, they had looked like hell. And since if she was having trouble sleeping, James told her stories about the war (and none of the grisly stuff because Victor had threatened to strangle her if she ever so much as yelped him awake again) or Chris would flick the light bulbs as they talked.
She only talked to them. In the last six months she had conned Stryker into leaving Chris behind twenty-six times. Once every week. And during those times he'd watch her train. And with him watching her train, they started talking.
James had started talking to her after the first few days. She was sick to the bone after Stryker had just made her go through touching six people. Victor, Fred, David, Chris, John and himself. Then she couldn't control anything at all and she was sick for what felt like hours, but had only been a few minutes. He was always there when she got sick after training.
She never spoke to the others. She had just never found a reason to talk to them. Or anything to talk about. Wilson was just a different case. She didn't want to talk to him.
A soldier walked in, two katana in his hand. Wilson looked confused, he was already carrying two of his and six 9 mm guns and maybe two clips for each gun. She grabbed her plate and held into her lap as he dropped in front of her with a loud clatter. She automatically started pushing it to their respective owners, when he pulled it back and smirked at her. "They're yours." He said and walked away.
She assumed they were still pissed at her. The first day eight of them had touched her in a way she hadn't been too fond of, so she told James. He sent six of them to the hospital. After that Stryker said that any man who so much as thinks about touching her inappropriately will be released from service at the hands of Victor and Wilson.
She stared at him as he went and slowly returned her attention to the weapons in front of her. She slowly ate her cookies. Stryker was insane if he thought she was carrying all of this with her. He was even more insane if he thought she was going out of this place without practicing first.
Stryker walked in and sighed. "Well. It seems West was here." He muttered. "Pick which you want and go pack, we're leaving in two hours from Africa." He said and started to walk away.
"I'm not going." She said simply.
He stopped and smirked. "You see. That was part of the deal. I teach you and you work for me. I want you on this mission. Be glad I didn't make you go earlier." He stalked away after that.
She returned her attention to the guns and swords. She shoved the swords towards Wilson. She held no interest in them. Beautiful or not, they weren't what she'd find useful in a fight. She studied the guns and pushed four of them to David and kept six of the loaded clips.
She stood up a moment later, grabbing all of this and two cookies before walking to her room. She still needed to pack as Stryker had said and she needed to shower and brush her teeth. It took her thirty minutes to finish, just before the water was shut off, she was finished. She was going to talk to Stryker about the water problem and being the only woman at base. It was unfair that she got so little warm water. She didn't exactly have half inch hair. How James survived it with that do of his, she didn't really understand, or maybe he just woke up like that, she wouldn't know.
Packing took her less than a minute. She had learned from watching Chris pack. He packed a bare minimum of clothes as they never stayed long in one place and armed him to the hilt. She didn't arm herself to the hilt, she took the guns, her bare minimum of clothes and sat on the bed until the full two hours were over and James called her to go.
She went to the kitchen and grabbed ten bags of cookies. The cookies were to keep her calm. And she knew that was a lie. She wasn't exactly a nervous eater on the contrary she stopped eating when she was nervous. But this would keep her mouth busy and no reason to talk to anyone. She joined them as they filed into the plane and studied the plane for a moment before getting on. She sat on the other side of James.
She glanced at Wilson when he told Victor about his ex-girlfriend's wedding. She was half amused at Victor's response, but John looked at her. "Did he really do that?" He asked and suddenly the whole plane was paying attention to her.
She knew she should've taken a bite of cookie before they spoke to her; so instead, she nodded slowly. "Yeah. He did." She answered with a shrug. "And he probably would've killed the guy too, if she wasn't threatening him." She continued.
"You know, it's really unfair how you know everything about us, and we know nothing about you." He said. "For all we know you are some drug addict with a super sensitive attitude and could snap at any moment and kill us."
She ignored him and gazed intently at the roof of the plane. "I'm me. What you've seen for the last six months is just that." She said simply. She wasn't even sure why she's talking to him. No one but Chris knew the truth about anything about her. And that was probably just an accident. He wasn't supposed to know. But she knew he wouldn't say anything.
Wilson snorted. "That is the biggest load of bullshit, I've ever heard."
She glared at him. "Really? Well, the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard – correction – seen, was a jealous boyfriend threatening to cut his ex's fiancé into pieces. How's that for bullshit?" She tapped her finger against her mouth and smirked at him. "On the bullshit list, you rank number one, I don't even reach the top ten of the list." She went back to ignoring him as Wilson grumbles something incoherently.
She feels her stomach flip as Chris takes the plane down. She shouldn't have eaten all that cookies. By the time they land its dark, it's hot and she feels like she could throw up. "It's an eight kilometer walk from here, let's go." Stryker informed them.
She didn't like him. Not at all. First he tortures her and calls it training. Second he forces her on a mission when she feels she's not yet prepared. Third he puts her in small confined spaces with Wade Wilson. Fourth he wants her to walk eight kilometers in the dark, in the middle of Africa, with a bulletproof vest and guns that felt like they weighed a ton. There was something wrong with the bastard.
She knew she shouldn't play with guns. Guns were dangerous. Especially aimed at someone. And even more so when no one was looking and that same someone had their back turned. But she swore. If he said one more word – rather loudly – about her, she was going to shoot him. Right in the back of his head and see if he'd be able to stop that bullet.
…
Ok she won't, but the thoughts are pleasing, satisfying. There is nothing wrong with imagining the death of someone seriously, seriously annoying and who never shuts up. Of course, she figured, he wouldn't be the person he was if he did shut up. There was a good possibility that his talking was a mechanism against what he had done, what he was still doing.
Of course, she could also be wrong.
She couldn't imagine any woman wanting to date a man who kills for a living. It is just sick and twisted.
"You know, if you stare at me any longer, I'm going to combust. And I'm quite certain that I'm currently enjoying life. Also, who would want a pretty face like mine gone? Not you, I'm certain." He said, bring her out of her thoughts.
She stuffs the gun away and jogs to catch up with James. She turns around and walks backward, she could see James looking at her. "A man who calls himself pretty; isn't my type! But hey, whatever floats your boat, Pretty-boy." She called out to him, snickering as she turned back to the front.
James shakes his head. "You shouldn't do that. Wilson's a trained man. He kills without thought. He will kill you without flinching if that's what it takes." He says.
She simply shrugs. She wasn't afraid of Wilson. "Let him try." She challenged the air. She knew how he moved. She knew how each and every muscle contracts and relaxes as he swung those swords around. She knew the routine behind them. When he would shift the routine and start up a new one. She knew too much just from touching him once.
He won't touch her. He won't be able to.
They came to a fenced of building. Whatever it was that was going on inside, had her wondering about how much of it was really an interest to Stryker. She wondered how much of it were actually legal business. She turned herself away from the sight of David shooting the people.
She knew now that the cookies she had eaten, she shouldn't have eaten. She felt her stomach churn and she felt her throat burn. Wilson smirked at her and ruffled her hair. "Soldiers are born, not made." He said softly as he passed her.
This time she's aiming for real, safety pulled back; ready to prove she's as much a soldier as he is.
Until he turns around and sends a cocky grin her way. He doesn't even flinch. He just stands there and waits. Whether it was because he wanted to die (she highly doubted that) or because he knew she wouldn't (she just knew it was this, how could she not know?) she didn't know.
But she never shoots. Her hands shake as Stryker tells them to stop joking around and move their asses. She drops the gun slowly, and looks away from him. Into the dark as he laughs and walks away. She didn't follow them, as she should have.
She could see the room flashing with people shooting and she just knew upstairs things were happening that she didn't want to see.
She stood outside. As quietly as the night and aiming directly at a tree. Safety clip pulled back and aiming. But she couldn't do. She couldn't even shoot a tree. Her hands were starting to get cold. She was starting to get cold. The air around her was cold. There was silence all around her and she couldn't even pull the trigger to shoot a tree.
Soldiers were born, not made.
She just couldn't do it. She just couldn't shoot a tree, much less a human being. And the one person she dislikes most is the one that proves this to her. How much of a complete idiot, moron, was she to have something about her proven by a man who didn't even know her?
A gloved hand landed on the barrel of the gun. Dragging her from the tree and her empty head. She was suddenly wishing for the headache, her head had never been this empty without it. He was smirking at her. "It's just a tree. It's not going to pull its roots and kill you." He said, he sounded amused. He almost sounded happy.
She let go of it and flung her left hand out in a punch. It was a stupid idea to begin with, she rarely allowed her temper to get the hand of her, but he just invoked it. The gun dropped to the ground completely as he swiftly lifted his hand and caught her fists, twisting her arm around and shoving it up against her back painfully. He had turned her around, so she was standing in the same position, and swiped her feet from under her. She lay face first on the dirt, the gun a few hands from her face, her other arm now also twisted back painfully.
She didn't struggle against him. There was no point. She was just going to end up hurting herself. She knew her wrists were going to be bruised in the morning. "You know. I've always liked having a woman under me." He said almost thoughtfully.
"Wilson. Get off her." Stryker's voice filtered through the air.
She felt the strain of her arms relax and rolled over; she stared past him at the sky. He was still standing over her, his feet apart and one either side of her hips. She could see the stars clearly, twinkling in the sky. She felt him as he moved and slowly got to her feet again.
She turned back to the tree for a moment as she got the gun and then followed him.
She listens to the conversation with little to no interest. She had no idea why Stryker was so interested in a meteor.
She catches sight of a shadow a few meters behind Wilson and deserts her post to go check it out. They didn't seem to notice her as and she easily slipped away. She had walked through what looked like an archway behind Wilson and into a clear open space. There was nothing there.
She pulled the gun out again. A sense of security the only reason she did it anyway. She walked further into the clearing and suddenly felt the oppressing darkness around her. The clearing had nothing above it. The moonlight didn't seem to touch it and the ground was littered with stones. From the smallest pebble to the size of boulders, and they were all in the same color as that rock Stryker had brought back from that building.
The darkness created by the stones was half surreally beautiful. Serene and clam and almost as if it belonged nowhere else than in this clearing. As if whatever came in contact with it would have nothing to fear, that it would always be there to protect and serve them.
A small crack, like someone stepping on a twig travelled through the air. She spun around and aimed the gun. Three small children, dark in the night, stood a few meters from her. She lowered the gun, not even thinking about aiming at them. There was no point. She wasn't going to ruin her good conscious by aiming a gun at small children. They muttered a word. A language she didn't understand. Unless they could suddenly speak Spanish, Italian or French, she didn't think she'd ever understand them.
She didn't know what it meant, or what it could possibly mean to them, but she figured it meant something like you don't belong here. She slowly nodded and backed up, out of the clearing and into the village area. She was met with a quiet team who didn't even notice her there; she quietly snuck around until she was a few steps from the entrance, they had used, to the village. She frowned. "Where's James?" She asked.
The attention snapped to her immediately, but they didn't answer, Victor just stalked past her and the others followed. Chris walked the slowest, allowing her to fall into step with him. "James left." He said quietly.
She stared at his back for a long time as she followed him. She glanced around her. Wherever James was in this place, she hoped he was ok.
She forced the feelings of pain and betrayal and abandonment down. He owed her nothing. She owed him her life. She sat quietly on the plane for a long time. Into probably more than just half the flight when she remembered the word those kids had uttered. She muttered it softly. The word had a sense of importance to it. "What?" Wilson asked.
She repeated it and studied his expression. "So…what's it mean?" She asked when he didn't reply on it further. He had been silent since they got on the plane. It scared her. Wilson wasn't supposed to be silent.
"It means sacred." He answered; a questioning glint behind his eyes.
She nodded slowly. Sacred. She figured if it was sacred, then no one was allowed there. And if it was sacred she ought to keep her mouth shut about it.
She sighed and looked to her side where James should've been.
She wasn't going to sleep well tonight. She already missed him.