So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
You can also find this story on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN under the same title and pen name along with a place to post suggestions.
Don't forget to check out the Photobucket album listed on my profile page too.
DAY THREE
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0726 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
NORA
He asked about skeletons in my closet and all I could do was lift my hand into my view. I looked at it, every tiny crisscrossing line of my skin, and the bumps of muscle and bone beneath, both of the back of my hand and when I turned it over my palm as well.
I closed it, curling my fingers in gently before taking a chance to study my knuckles as well, then I flung my hand out, opening those same fingers with a sharp shake but nothing happened, unless you count me feeling like a fool.
I was trying to do what Loki does, make some magick. He makes it seem so effortless. with him it's just there, filtering out of his skin in tiny glittering lights that circle his hand and make wonderful things happen. All he does is wave his hand around and it does what he wants. So I waved my hand, expecting, I don't know what, but something.
Nothing happened though, just like it was supposed to. Nothing happened because I don't really have magick, because I'm not really some alien from an ancient race we once called Gods. There's doubt in even that thought, because Loki has presented some rather convincing proof, but I crush it back this time.
I only ever wanted to be normal, just like everybody else. Most people want to be special, but I never did, I hated what made me special, and I even feared what made my friends special. Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, all I people I know, all people who are special, who have a unique skill that the others didn't; all people who used that skill and placed themselves in danger while doing it.
I never liked the idea of special, because to me it always seemed to come with the looming truth that someday, every special person will die, in a unique and terrible way.
"I'm a Conway" The statement brings an obvious look of question to his brows as he glances at me past another swig. "Elaine's not my real last name." This time his reaction to the sentence is to screw the cap back on his bottle, and let it rest at his side for the time being. He knows this conversation is going to be serious and is respecting that.
"The Conway's, or at least my group of them, we have this noble history in Camden, in Maine, where I was born. All the way back to the civil war and a man who wouldn't take down the flag when the confederates told him too."
I pause to chuckle before I continue the next part, the sound broken by the long seeded sense of shame I feel when I talk about this. I've always felt like somehow I was betraying them because I forgot. "They named TWO destroyers after that man, the USS Conway's, all because he wouldn't lower a flag. I've never lowered ANY flags and nobody's named anything after me."
I hate myself for saying that, and feeling it, but it doesn't change that this isn't the first time it's happened. I try to be better than giving into those feelings, but I have given up so much. More then my ancestor ever did. I gave it up in the sense that I had no choice, it was gone whether I wanted it to be or not so I chose to accept its absence and pretend I was okay with it. My family, my past, my skills, my memories, my LIFE.
Where was my great honor and recognition? Where was my praise? All I got was the mail and lunch order of my current S.O.
Nora Elaine never became the spy or agent S.H.I.E.L.D always hoped she would, but one thing she did learn from them was the art of a lying a smile.
I'm smiling now, but it's not that kind of smile. Its halfhearted at best but still exists because I shifted my attention to my kitten. Jareth was still sleeping in the curve of my arm, but now he is also purring, and nuzzling his sleepy head into my hand as a scratch his chin.
"I had to give it up when..." I close my eyes for a second at this part until the wet burn in them subsides a little. "My parents names are on the wall of valor, with mine." I end up choosing to say that instead, skipping the unpleasant details of the story and going straight to the end. Everyone connected to S.H.I.E.L.D knows what the wall of valor is, so he will understand.
I did get that recognition, but in truth they may as well have not given it to me at all because I couldn't even claim it. Seeing 'my' name on that wall was more of a slap than the salute. "When I woke up, I still had enemies out there so..."
"They gave you a new identity to protect you." He fills in the blank I leave for him. "They took my old one." I clarify with a nod, then reconsider my earlier decision to stop drinking so I don't lose control of my tongue again. Its a decision based on emotions and stressed, and I'm equal parts grateful to Duncan even though I am pissed when his hand reaches out stops me.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0734 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
DUNCAN
Truth be told I already knew everything she just told me, and a lot more she hasn't. When we came back from that mission at the atomic power plant in Dounreay I thought the shy cute little half Asian looking guide in a sleek black business suit with a striped scarf tucked in her jacket was a breath of fresh air, and that's all I thought until noticed her gloves.
We came to a checkpoint before we reached the hall where my dad's office was, and she passed the fingerprint scan without taking her gloves off. She had fingerprints attached to the outside of her gloves. That should have been a huge red flag at a place like S.H.I.E.L.D, but she also passed the retinal scan, voice recognition, and tech scan to make sure she wasn't wearing any appearance altering devices. Then lastly when the guard ran her ID she came up in the clear and the doors opened for her.
This little Level One had some very special clearance, and I admit it did leave me suspiciously confused for a little bit, until I remembered something my dad said about a very 'lovely' project he had waiting for me when I got back. I thought his wording was strange but figured he meant a new weapons design or some better infiltration tech. He meant her.
Which was why I told Rumlow to back off when he started cornering her in the elevator. I didn't know what was special about her, but I figured it had to be something big and if she didn't kill Rumlow for messing with her then my father probably would.
After she left and dad secured the room, he filled all of us in. Being a secret organization within a secret organization there's not a lot of file keeping so about a third of the information I received was just him talking, another third was old records saved from Nazi WWII, and the last bit was research done by S.H.I.E.L.D. The pretty little half asian was a goddamned amnesiac 'Goddess'!
I always had a hard time wrapping my head around it, even when I did come to believe it. It was like I was a kid with his blocks, trying to shove the hexagon into the pentagon shaped hole. If I pushed hard enough I could make it fit, even if it got stuck and distorted the slot. I mean, I've seen the files and that old footage, so I know what she can do, but, the woman on those films couldn't possibly be the woman who cried and begged me to let her go.
Dad told me, because even though he was still healthy as he could be for a man his age, he was getting older and nobody's body lasts forever. She was just one of the many things I would need to know about when I took over both his positions after he died. His reason for telling me about her past made sense.
But her reason I am less clear on. "Why are you telling me this Nora?"
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0738 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
NORA
Close your eyes, count back from ten, you can do this. Everything is gonna be fine. Yada yada yada. I silently recite affirmation after affirmation as I force the truth out into the world before my indecision ties it back up inside of me.
"Because I don't know who I am anymore and I'm so so scared." I don't need my eyes open to notice all the light hearted humor in him vanish as the pity he feels for me burns it away. I know its pathetic but I don't care as I make the request anyway. "I just need you to tell me I'm really me, please just tell me who I am."
"Aw damn lil hen..." My eyes were still closed, up until I felt a pair of cotton covered fingers brush up my cheek to catch the tears, that made them open with a bit of a gasp. "Shh, don't cry hun. It's okay." He repeats, pushing the thin dry towel he snatched from nearby into my hands so I can dry my own tears myself. "He's got you all twisted around hasn't he?"
The words won't come out steady and I know it so I just nod instead with a faltering smile until I think I can conquer the stutter again. "I can't tell you who you are lil hen..." That sentence almost upsets me, except for the fact that he continues so quickly. "Cause I've only really met you here, but you're an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D lil hen, and you're one of us, now I don't know what makes you special to him, but you're special to us too lil hen."
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0740 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
DUNCAN
"Don't." The tone was all off. I said what I said to help her calm down and reassure her it was all going to be okay, but then I heard her voice and the tone was all off. Everything was all off from her expression to her body language. I don't know what I said but something in there set her off the wrong way.
"Nora, hey, calm down lil hen..." I tried to reach out and hold her hand again to give it a comforting squeeze, but she jerked it back with a bit of a flinch and glared at me, in an odd combination of anger and fear and sadness as she shook her head.
"No, don't you dare. Don't." And then the chant started. She just kept saying that word, as she shook her head and her shoulders shifted with the heaviness of her breath. Then she brought her fist up to her mouth, her skin not caught between her teeth but pressed against them in a nervous gesture before she uttered her last sentence; though calling it just a sentence is underestimating its intensity.
"Get out Duncan. I'd rather have Loki's company then yours right now. I don't care what you tell him as long as it doesn't get you killed, just please go away!" Its an order.