The Girl Who Can't Be Moved
Chapter Two
Bridgette looked over at the quiet Dr. Bruce Banner. The agents had him positioned on a medical table, lying flat on his back. Since his clothes had been, well ripped to shreds during his Hulk-out moment, she had rummaged through the remains of his home to put together another outfit for him. And a sheet to cover him in. Since she had to carry him to the SHIELD location, he was going to be damn well decent. Not to mention that he ruined her clothing as well. Tights shredded, skirt ripped and dirtied, blouse beyond repair and heels broken. Luckily, the super secret spies supplied her with an agent outfit which was a little clingy for her tastes but it was much better than wearing rags. At least her jacket and scarf were all right, those were her favorite pieces anyway.
She leaned her cheek against her hand, sighing. It took her a second to realize that her glasses were no longer there as well. Hulk had smashed them while dealing her a mean uppercut, sent her absolutely flying upon impact. Not that it really matter, they weren't a true prescription anyway. It was a guise, to throw people off her scent and a good one at that. She sighed, she was rather fond of that pair too. Her ears perked at the sound of stirring and she twisted in her chair to watch with blue eyes the doctor coming back to reality.
"Ughhhh..."
Bruce slowly woke up to the world, body throbbing and head pounding. So much for his year without incident record. His arm went to cover his eyes as he groaned again. Mentally, he swore at himself. He had lost control again. Just because of some ignorant girl SHIELD sent. He was suppose to have more control than that-
"Mornin' sunshine!"
Startled, Bruce sat up quickly, looking around wildly for the source of the voice. The SHIELD girl was sitting curled up in a chair with a drink in hand, twirling the straw. She was dressed oddly, a one piece agent looking uniform but it was decorated with a clearly worn jean jacket and the same blue scarf tossed around her neck. He gaped at her, stunned. She was just sitting there like nothing had even happened. No bruises, no broken bones. In fact, she looked just fine.
"I guess you can run pretty fast," he guessed, rubbing the back of his now tender head.
"Hm?" She said, looking back over as she took a drink. Realizing what he had said, she held out a finger to signal 'one second'. "Oh no, I didn't run away. No way I could outrun you!" she laughed. His brow furrowed in concern.
"Then how-"
"-Hey, do you want something to drink?" she interjected brightly. She got up from her seat and made her way to a small refrigerator that was tucked away. Honestly, Bruce would never have thought to look for it. Beverages weren't exactly top of his to think about list.
"Looks like they've got soda, bottled water, that weird kind of fruit flavor crap. Um, and twinkies? I think it's a twinkie," she grimaced and shoved whatever it was to the back of the refrigerator "When in doubt, throw it out, but since it's not miiiiine, I'll leave it for someone else to find. So, choose your poison, doc. I advise against the twinkie thing though."
He stammered for a moment. "Um, w-water's fine. Yeah, just water." Brown hair glinted red as she nodded, snatching the bottle.
With the seal cracked for him, she held out the bottle, almost as if it was a peace offering. He didn't sense any apprehension from her, much like before. Cheerful and yet nonchalant. It wasn't as if it bothered him but, well, it bothered him. Especially when she was well aware of his other form.
"Um, thanks," he accepted, the bottle cool against his palm.
"No problem," she smiled.
Their room was vacant, white, and it only had a few necessities like the bed Bruce was on, the chair Bridgette had been sitting in earlier, and obviously the discovered girl fiddled with the scarf absent mindedly, as if bored as the doctor took a small drink. A beat passed and he could no longer stand it.
"Why aren't you hurt?" he blurted. "Sorry, but it doesn't make any sense." He glanced down in his lap to avoid her direct gaze, only to realize his change of clothing.
"H-how did I-I mean-I wasn't wearing this when I met you," he stammered, face growing warm. He screwed his eyes shut. Of course, he Hulked out which meant that his clothes were ruined. Sweet lord.
Bridgette laughed aloud, taking a seat on his bed in the space his angled knees supplied, moving so that she was somewhat indian style. She ran a hand through her hair, looking over at him with a sneaky look.
"That's right, you weren't wearing that when we met. Then when we were fighting, you really weren't wearing much of anything. And after, weeelll...you know..." she trailed off, her silent words loud in his head. Bruce quickly hid his face in his hands, embarrassed.
"But don't worry, after I carried you to SHIELD they got you straightened up and all spiffy looking," she shrugged. The man gaped at her, rather openly. Did she just say that she carried him? The girl couldn't possibly weigh over 130 and it wasn't as if she had exceptional muscle mass either, while he on the other hand, dwarfed her and was rather heavy, especially as dead weight.
She leaned forward and tapped his jaw closed. Smirking, she answered his earlier question. "I'm not exactly normal either, doc. I'm sort of," she paused to think of a word that would describe her ability, "durable, if you will."
At that moment in time, the door to their room slid open with a quiet 'whoosh' and a SHIELD agent stood at attention. He nodded in their direction, hands clasped behind his back.
"It's time."
"Time? For what?" asked Banner, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Bridgette got to her feet as well, equally curious. The agent looked between the two Avengers cautiously, if a little worried. Though he kept his composure, wouldn't want to get fired on his first assignment.
"It's time to join Director Fury and the others," he stated. The girl nodded, excited while Banner was still very much apprehensive, and for good reason too. The agent nodded once more in confirmation, turning heel.
"Right this way, please."
Bridgette easily followed while Bruce somewhat dragged his feet. Sensing, and slightly irritated with the slow pace, the girl turned toward him and grabbed his hand, tugging him up to her speed.
"C'mon doc, I'm sure they've got plenty of cool stuff we can play with," she teased. Instantly, he tried to pull away but her grip remained firm, his only option being to control his breathing and allow her to lead him to the awaiting helicopter.
Great. Small, enclosed space in a flying metal vehicle high in the sky. That would go well. The blades were already spinning and ready to roll, the wind force tossling her hair making it look like a fire torch. The agent stepped in first, turned to extend a hand to the girl to which she accepted. The agent took a seat and Bridgette held out her hand to Bruce. Again he regarded her strangely, but this time he accepted it.
"Isn't this exciting?" she asked, glancing out of the windows. They took a seat as the door slid closed as they fastened their seat belts. Banner eyed the small space warily, opting to close his eyes and work on his breathing. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Deep breaths.
"Yeah...exciting..."
The SHIELD base was a massive transportation unit out in the middle of the ocean. Bridgette leaned toward the window to get a better look. It was gigantic. There were military jets stationed on the outside ledges, dozens of people running about and getting everything prepared. Mechanics, soldiers, agents and other officers. Their helicopter landed smoothly, only feeling a slight bump as the vehicle touched down.
"See? That wasn't too bad," reassured Bridgette, looking over to the other passenger. Dr. Banner had refused to open his eyes throughout the flight, and only answering the girl's one side conversation with "mhmm"s and "yeah"s. Clearly, not the flying type.
"Right," he gritted. "Let's just get out..." So, of course, while the agent and Bridgette's buckles unclipped rather easily, Bruce had technical difficulties with his own. In short, it was stuck. The girl looked over at the agent, poor kid, who looked a little apprehensive at the thought of approaching the would-be Hulk.
"You big baby," she told the agent, who had the decency to blush. Taking it upon herself, she bent down in front of him, taking the buckles into her own hands. Giving it a good smack, it slipped into place, then carefully, she pulled and it unfastened without any fuss. Bruce could barely contain his embarrassment as the girl unlocked him from the trap, humiliated and heart wanting to pound. Forcing another deep breath, he calmed his pulse and got out of the helicopter, muttering a short thanks.
They had only walked a few paces when a small group of agents approached them, all faces wearing the same vacant expression. Bridgette grimaced at the sight of them, but at least there was only a 50/50 shot that they were here for her this time. That was nice.
"Miss Smith. With us please," instructed the closest one. She wrinkled her nose in dislike. Damn. Instead, she sighed loudly, trying to do her best to diffuse the tension that was almost suffocating.
"All right boys. Let's go." She walked toward them confidently, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Smirking, she glanced over her shoulder. "Try not to have too much fun without me, doc!"
He simply avoided her eyes as he gave a small wave, making her laugh.
The agents kept her surrounded as they "escorted" her to the interior of the ship. Ship? Well it was on water, so ship could be the right word. A super-secret-spy-ship, that is. They led her down numerous halls, past dozens of unmarked doorways and passages. She kept her silence for once, busy committing the path to memory, gaze catching the details. One agent gripped her bicep to directed her into a white room and she ripped her arm from his hold instantly.
"I can walk just fine, thanks." She could practically sense how nervous they were around her and she sighed. It wasn't like she was Dr. Banner and going to go green and stomp them. Just don't touch her because she didn't like it. That's all.
"Yes ma'am."
They walked her into the white room which she recognized as a type of medical bay. There were small tables on wheels for the doctors and a table for the patient to sit on. She caught sight of the tray of needles and had to fight the urge to yell in frustration. Seriously? More needles?
"It's not going to work," said a young Bridgette, age ten at the time. The doctor checked his needle, not quite looking at her. None of them looked at her. Why not? She didn't look weird or anything, she wasn't even sick.
"We just need a few samples to analyze your blood," explained the doctor.
"I'm not sick," she argued.
"We know, but we still need to test your blood, dear." Dear. Hon. Sweetie. These grown-ups always tried to use sweet names to console but she didn't like it. She folded her arms across her chest pointedly, her feet dangling as she sat on the table, the sanitary paper crinkling in the always annoying fashion.
"It's not going to work," she told him again. He took her arm anyways, positioning the tip of the needle against the desired spot.
"You might feel a pinch," he warned. The little girl rolled her eyes. Grown-ups never listen to her, especially when she's right. Why didn't they?
Instead of the needle slipping under her skin like it should have, it didn't move. In fact, it didn't even penetrate her skin. Concerned, the doctor applied more force and the needle proceeded to shatter. Gaping, he looked from the now destroyed needle to the girl who now shrugged, folding her arms again.
"I told you so."
The agent called for her attention, snapping her from her short daze. "If you could please wait here, the doctor will be with you shortly, Miss Smith," he asked. She gave a disinterested wave, pulling a wrapped granola bar from her pocket to nibble on.
"Sure, sure. No problem." He nodded and the group turned heel and left, door sliding close behind them. A beat passed and the girl smirked when she didn't hear any bolt engage. Moving to the doorway stealthily, she kept her ear close as her fingers spread, using the lightest amount of force to move the door to the side. It obliged with no objections. Agents hadn't bothered to lock her in and she grinned. Clearly they weren't fully briefed or had not read the fine print of her file. Bridgette Smith was not to be left alone because she always, always found a way out.
On that note, she strolled down the halls, hoping to find something interesting aboard the super-secret-spy-ship.
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