Faux Pas

Chapter Six

The hard ground connecting with the side of her face felt good, in a sense, as Logan struck her jaw and knocked her to the ground. She was back on her feet in an instant and threw herself at the X-man. The adrenaline rushing through her was exhilarating and refreshing. She forgot how fun it was to fight, even more so as there was no true malicious intent between the two. Barreling into him head on, she managed to upset his balance but he used the fall to flip over, landing in a crouch, his nails digging into the ground to slow him down. Using the momentum to his advantage, Bridgette was surprised by how quickly he could launched himself at her in return, forcing her to to the ground. It wasn't over yet as she managed to bring her feet up and, with a more than fair effort, toss him off of her.

"Damn, you're heavier than you look, did you know that?" Seriously, his body and the weight he could put into his strikes were abnormal. Was his mutation supreme density?

"Heavy protein diet," he snarked in return. His fist came for her but she parried back with a block. He was quick too, the pair trading blow for blow, meeting each other's defense no matter the force of their hit. They were breathing hard, the girl wearing an excited grin and she would even wager that the stoic Wolverine looked amused. Every now and again they would slip past the other's defense, landing a strike. The adrenaline soared and energy revved within her as she received his punches and dealt her own.

Neither seemed to have a concept of time as they continued to fight, bodies crashing into each other, trying to over power the opponent, but not so much to end the fun. It felt as if they could go on forever due to Logan's mutant gene that allowed him to heal at a rapid rate and Bridgette's own durability. Sweat covered them as they panted, starting to realize that they were going on for a long time. Logan clearly wanted to end on his terms, taking a running start and leaping at the girl. He pulled his fist back and three sharp blades burst forth from between his knuckles and Bridgette grinned. Obviously he didn't pay too much attention to her file. Instead of jumping back and giving up the match, she lunged forward and brought her arm up, leaning in and taking the strike full on to his clear surprise.

Her grin was wiped clean from her face when the blades connected with her skin. At first, it was the regular sensation of sharpness that she was used to, but then frigid fear washed over her when the blades kept pushing, sinking into her skin and white hot pain flared from the contact. A cry of pain escaped her and Wolverine pulled back to call back his claws, looking at her incredulously.

"What the hell?" he scolded her. "What were you thinking, running into that attack?"

Bridgette didn't hear him as she stared at her arm. Three deep marks were carved into her arm and they had sliced past her skin like it was nothing. Bright red blood was steadily dripping but she still didn't move. She was in shock. This was the first time she had visible proof of an injury and blood was flowing freely. Hydra had only been able to collect her blood due to internal damage, visceral bleeding that she had coughed up. She wasn't supposed to break. She just wasn't.

Logan huffed and collected his jacket before forcing the shell shocked girl to move forward. "C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up. Idiot."

For once, Bridgette didn't say a single word as Logan steered her toward the medical bay. Her blue gaze was hypnotized by the state of her arm, taking in every detail. The shape of the lacerations, the hot blood the welled up from within, pooling over. The scarlet was sharp against her fair skin, it looked so unnatural on her. It was a different sensation of her body trying to repair itself, the burning of her cells trying to scramble together and piece her back together.

She wasn't supposed to break. She was Bridgette Smith. Ricochet. That was the point of her.

"Sit," ordered Logan and she complied, opting to take a seat on the empty worktable rather than the chair. The blood was clotting now, skin starting to knit back together slowly.

"Arm," he gruffed. She held it out and the grumpy Wolverine took a damp towel and started to wipe away the startling red stain.

"Looks like you're healing well enough," he commented. "Guess you're not entirely stupid then."

"What are you made of?" she finally asked, finding her voice. She looked him right in the eye as she waited for her answer, still very pale.

"What's it to you?"

"Everything," she answered honestly, still a bit breathless. His brow lowered more than usual as he studied her, debating about his response. Judging by her state of panic and clear fear, it was a very important piece of information for her.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "No idea."

She swore an unladylike German curse under her breath at the unhelpful answer. He moved to step away but she reached out and grabbed his arm again, keeping him still. She didn't care about the pointed glare he sent her hand, silently stating his dislike for contact.

"You can't tell anyone about this," she warned him.

"It's not exactly a topic that comes up in conversation often, is it?" he retorted, breaking her grip and tossing the bloody towel away in a designated hamper.

"I mean it, Logan. You cannot tell a soul about this," she said, hoping down to the ground. The three cuts were now closed, the cells working hard to smooth over the injury and return it to its proper state. The pain still lingered but that was nothing. As long as her armor was intact, that was all that mattered. She needed it.

"All right," he gruffed, making his way back to her.

"Seriously. Promise me you won't. Swear it. Hell, if I had a contract written up, I would ask for your signature in blood," she rambled on, unable to keep the concern down.

"All right, I get it. You're serious," he said. "I won't tell, but that doesn't keep Professor Xavier from finding out. He can read minds."

Bridgette ran her hands through her hair with a groan. This was just not her day.

"All right, all right. Just, please, keep this to yourself."

"General Ross!"

Military officer Johnson rushed to his superior's office with a new file in his arms and brand new information to deliver. It would make his boss happy and he was more than glad to be the one to hand over the news that put General "Thunderbolt" Ross in a good mood.

The intimidating General was just on his way to his office when his soldier caught up with him, holding out a manila folder for him to take, slightly out of breath.

"N-new information regarding Erskine, sir," he explained in a low voice. Ross signaled for the man to follow him and they stepped into the office for privacy. As soon as the door was locked, he flipped open the file.

"What kind of information?" he asked, glancing back at the soldier who was standing at attention.

"Yes, sir. The personnel that are following Erskine, as well as Dr. Banner, found that they are staying at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "A school?"

"Yes, sir, but it's not only that. I-If you would take a look at the photos they managed to take of Erskine and another resident," encouraged Johnson, gesturing to the file. Ross flipped past the few pages of notes and stopped when he came to the actual photos from the scene, taken with specialty long distance cameras. The man and Erskine seemed to be fighting for sport, and then in the next picture, three metal blades protruded from his hand. The next image captured the moment when the blades connected with Erskine's arm, three strips of red blood bleeding at the surface.

"So she can be damaged," he muttered. Officer Johnson couldn't tell if the new found glint in his superior's eyes was exactly reassuring.

"Sir?"

"And what about Betty? Did my daughter do her part?" he asked, going through the rest of the photos. Erskine's shock had been captured on film as she stared down at her arm in horror, her face white as a sheet. Perfect.

"Yes, sir. Betty was able to meet Dr. Banner while Erskine returned to their hideout. She was sure to mention her previous relationship with Dr. Banner to Erskine. Sir, if I may say so, won't Erskine connect Betty to you? She's well informed," asked Johnson.

"I plan on it," he answered with a smirk beneath his mustache. "It won't take Erskine long to figure out the deal, especially if she's close to Banner. I expect to see her soon enough, but until then, keep eyes on them both. I don't want them to have a moment's peace," he instructed.

"Yes, sir. We'll keep on it."

Night had taken over and the institute had quieted down at long last. Bridgette covered her mouth as she yawned, stepping into her designated room. She couldn't help but smile when she spotted Bruce sitting at the desk, going over his class papers. He was really taking the teaching role to heart. He didn't seem to hear the door close as he continued to study, glasses in their place on the bridge of his nose. Silently as she could, she walked right up to him and ran her fingers through his naturally curly hair that was peppered with grey. He flinched, finally noticing that someone else was in the room with him.

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in," he chuckled. She grinned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she leaned down to his level so to look over his notes.

"What's up, doc?" she teased. "Homework already?"

"No, not homework," he answered with an amused smile. "Just making sure everything is set for each grade level, so that I'm not overwhelming the students." She saw his pointed glance and she gave a dramatic sigh.

"Yes, I'm going to take it down a notch, or three, tomorrow. I'll try to keep them alive enough for your class," she promised.

The quiet had returned and Bridgette lingered where she was, arms wrapped around the scientist. She watched his hands shift through the papers, followed the strokes of his pen as he scribbled his own side notes for the lectures. Her mind kept flitting back to the worrisome subject of Betty Ross, but she pushed the upsetting thought away and simply allowed herself to enjoy being near the doctor. He always had the kind of effect on her. Just seeing him made her smile and it was enough to push the Ross worry aside for the time being.

"Bridgette? Are you all right?" he called, leaning back against her, tilting his head toward her. "You're awfully quiet today."

"Hm?" she murmured. "Yeah. Totally fine. I think I'm just tired. It's been a weird day, y'know."

"Yeah, school can do that to you," he agreed. The girl stood up straight and let her hand trail across his shoulders as she stepped away toward her bag, rummaging for a change of clothes.

Still lost in her own thoughts, she remained quiet as she changed and occupied her bed, laying on top of the blankets, unsure if she was tired or not.

"Bruce?"

"Yeah?" he called from the bathroom, changing into his own night clothes.

"How long do you think we'll be here?" she asked.

"Um, I'm not sure. Until Director Fury thinks it's all right for us to return to the city or if he has another mission for us. Why?" he answered, only half coherent as he was brushing his teeth.

"Just wonderin'..." she said, rolling onto her side. Bruce spoke up again but the sound didn't register as she had just slipped into sleep.

Immediately, she regretted closing her eyes. When she opened them again she was in a completely new layout. White was everywhere, implying a sterilized environment of a hospital or a laboratory. She made to move but found that she was properly restrained. Looking up, she could see her wrists bolted to the table she seemed to be laying on and her ankles were as well. Her chest started to heave as her breathing became shallow. She threw her weight against the shackles but they didn't so much as budge.

"You're not getting away this time, Patient Erskine," came a cackle. Blue eyes widened as Dr. Zola leaned over her, a nasty grin in place. "You're not getting away this time."

"We're finally getting what we want from you, Erskine," said a second voice. Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest as the intimidating figure of General Ross towered over her as well. The two mad men shared a devious grin as they each pulled a blade from their pockets. She almost stopped breathing altogether as the blades were exact duplicates of Wolverine's claws.

"Now, let's get to work."

They both leaned in, placing the blade's tip against her skin as she continued to thrash in attempt to break free. The same burning pain erupted as before and she cried out.

"No! Stop it! Let go!" she protested, unable to break free.

"No one to hear you, Patient Erskine," tutted Zola as he carved a large Y shape into her torso.

"Not your family, and not your Avenger friends," added Ross, taking a cut out of her bicep. The scenery started to morph and the figure of Bruce came into focus. Hope dared to rise within her as she called out to him. Bruce would help! He could release the Hulk and smash the two power hungry men!

"Please! I'm over here! Help me!" she begged. The gamma specialist didn't even glance at her, distracted by something else. The image of Betty Ross appeared and she kept his focus. He smiled and laughed at something she said, her hand reaching out and touching his face, leaning in close.

"Over here! Please!" she cried out. "Please!"

"We will have to take samples, won't we, Dr. Zola?" asked Ross.

"Most certainly," agreed Zola. He ripped open the incision he had made, making her ribs crack open with the effort. He sliced off some of skin and muscle, putting them in sample dishes. Next, he delved into her insides and started to pull out her intestines, examining them with a magnifying glass that came out of nowhere.

"Yes, we will be able to salvage much from her."

"Bruce!" she cried out again, praying for him to at the very least look at her. Not to ignore her like she wasn't there.

"If you go on making a racket, I'll take Banner out myself," warned Ross. Bridgette didn't listen, still trying to break free.

"Bruce, please-!"

Ross moved with an unnatural speed, appearing suddenly behind the good doctor. Betty saw him but kept Bruce's attention on her. Ross drew the blade and gave a sick grin as he drew his arm back. There was a visceral crunch as the weapon was forced through the doctor's spine, lifting him off his feet. Ross let him crumple to the ground while he and his daughter shared a laugh as the girl screamed from the tabletop.

"BRUCE!"

"Bridgette!"

With a sharp gasp, her eyes flew open and she sat upright, drenched in a cold sweat, and eyes damp as she quickly assessed her immediate area. She was at the institute, in the shared room, and she was very much intact. Dr. Zola was not cutting her like she was a cadaver.

"Bridgette!" he called again. It took her a moment to for Bruce to come into focus and for her to see his worried expression. He took a seat on her bed, out of breath himself as he watched her carefully.

"Bruce?" she croaked. She quickly took into account that he was not dead with a blade sticking out of his chest, eyes devoid of life. She quickly reached out, her hands cradling his face. Her thumb brushed his cheek, slightly rough with stubble. He was right there with her. He was real.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You were talking in your sleep, in German, and then you were thrashing and crying out-"

He didn't get to finish explaining what he had witnessed as Bridgette had thrown her arms around his neck in a tight hug, hiding her face in his shoulder. She had to make sure he was all right, that he was there under her touch. His arms wrapped around her as well and she couldn't help but whimper.

"It was Zola," she managed, with holding some details. "H-he was dissecting me and then you were there and-and then he killed you-" Another tight whimper interrupted her and she clenched her jaw tightly, trying to dislodge the image of Bruce's lifeless body. The thought had her heart racing again, even though the real Bruce was in her arms. She could still hear the sound of the blade severing his spine. It was too real, too vivid, and completely unnerving.

"That explains the German," Bruce tried to joke. "Bridgette, you're safe. Zola's dead, and nothing's going to get you, okay? I won't let them get you. I promise."

The longer he held her, the easier it was for her body to calm down and soon her breathing became steady. Although the fear didn't leave her mind. She could be hurt. There was a chink in her armor. She closed her eyes tightly as she leaned against her fellow Avenger, too many worrying thoughts swirling in her head.

God help her if General Ross ever found out.

REVIEW! Pretty good timing, huh? Not a year this time. So, her spar with Logan provided useful information as well as teaching her that she shouldn't always charge into dangerous situations (as if she'd listen, the blockhead). General Ross is hot on her trail as well, causing all sorts of trouble and pulling strings.

Your thoughts would be loved as always!

Enjoy!