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 SIXTY ONE
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0937 HOURS
WINONA DRIVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
I hate this place. Nora isn't, or wasn't the kind of person who would have a thought like this, but 'I' am. I hate these people.
I hate Carmel, Indiana, its people are idiots. We walked across that street, and the people did exactly what we wanted them to. They didn't look at us, and I HATE them for it. I'm covered in blood and nobody noticed, one mother even batted her son's hand back down when he clearly pointed me out, because she was too busy talking on her cell phone.
That boy was a good boy, but I can't help but think his mother is a piece of shit, and I don't even regret it. That's not a 'Nora' thought, I don't even know who that thought belongs to, but I don't want to think about it, and Duncan's arm is more than willing to help me focus on something else.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0938 HOURS
WINONA DRIVE
CARMEL INDIANA
DUNCAN
She shook for a second, but by the stiff set I could see at the angle of her jaw told me it probably had nothing to do with tears, and honestly I don't care too much what the cause of it was, because in the next second she pressed herself even closer to my side. If she was willing to cling to me for comfort I sure as hell wasn't going to do anything to drive her away.
We kept walking, past the parking lot entrance of a small home improvement store before we were flanked on either side by rows of cookie cutter houses from decades past, and yards that touch a curbless street. We walked past it's oblivious residence to an intersection, and on further still almost to the end of a T junction with Oswego Rd before we found a spot to stop.
We needed a set of wheels, and we were being picky about the color. When you're on the run technically anything with an engine and four inflated wheels is your friend, but if your friend is bright red or a minivan it's not a very reliable friend.
We didn't want a car with a sharp color, or a sports car because they attract attention, and we also didn't want a van because they don't do well if we have to go off pavement, a truck was also out because there we three of us. Then we found a yard with a grey Honda Civic, and grey is the best color, because nobody sees grey anything. It's like the ultimate urban camouflage.
The place we found it at is perfect too. It's parked in the wrap around gravel driveway, which is in the backyard of the house, and most of the windows on that side are high on the wall and narrow. Not that it matters because even the ones that are bigger have curtains in them, which to our luck are closed and prevent anyone who might be in the house from catching a glimpse of us stealing their car.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0943 HOURS
WINONA DRIVE
CARMEL INDIANA
CLINT
Now that we are a step away from putting rubber on the road I let myself relax just a little and taking another breath to reinforce my walls I venture another look at the pair behind me.
The merc/agent/whatever he really is, he is helping her sit down on our side of a small picket fence in the middle of the curved gravel driveway. She is clinging to his forearm with a shakily smothered wince as he leans down to help so she doesn't fall the whole way. The skinned state of her feet, and exhaustion has her standing on stiff shaky legs. My little Princess, her endurance was the size of a kiddie pool, but she always made up for it with an ocean of determination.
Even injured, scared, confused, and heartbroken she still has that determination I love, but I know I'm testing the limits of its horizon. I can see tear lines on her cheeks again and I'm pretty damn sure I know what put them there. "WHERE IS MY BABY YOU BASTARD?! WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BABY?!"
She remembered being a mother to a daughter, and then she let me convince her to run away from the one person she thinks might be able to reunite her with her baby, because she loves me too, because I'm her goddamned 'brother'. God, I hate that privilege so much right now I can almost taste the bile on my tongue, because I sure as hell don't deserve it.
"Hey." My first words are directed to her new 'friend', and by his expression my voice is just as unwelcome as I thought it would be, but I don't give a shit. "Get us in the car, you're gonna be our driver." And before he can make the protest I know he's going to make I add. "I'm a better shot, I'm taking shotgun."
That stills his tongue before it starts moving because it comes with another message in the subtext. Nora is getting the whole backseat to herself, both for cover and a well deserved break. That knowledge that I'm not trying to cut in on his time with the hot chick makes him cooperate and that actually makes me hate him a little more. Because Nora is so much more than a pretty catch to fight over. I shake it off though by the time I let my face fall back in her line of sight. She doesn't need to see that hate.
"Hey, Princess." She sniffles a little at that greeting but tries to offer me a smile, so I return one too, not letting any of my broken heart slip through the cracks. "You did great, I'm so proud of you, you know that right?" She offers me another wet nod that makes me want to just hug her, but I'm still following the old rules for her sake, so all I do is give her shoulder a gentle but firmly reassuring squeeze. "That's my girl. How are your feet?" She doesn't give me any words, but the way her eyes avert from mine and her neck sinks down between her shoulders makes a pretty loud statement of its own.
"Hey, no. Don't be ashamed that you're in pain okay? What you did was amazing, even Natasha would bitch about running on bleeding feet okay?" The mention of Natasha, whether it was because she did better than our red head, or just the mention itself, makes a hiccupping sob bubble out of her. But whether it's happy, sad, or angry I can't tell, and just looking at her tells me she won't be offering any clarification even if I ask. So I plow on, going with something that I'm sure she will agree with too.
"I want to re-tie your feet, can you handle if I do that really quick?" The strips of bloody green silk are still tied around her ankles and stretched under the arch of her feet, but because its silk, all the running wore it away beneath her heels and the balls of her feet. It won't be much but at least it will keep some of the air off her scraps so they don't sting as bad until we can stop and really do something about her injuries.
I'm racking my brain for any by the hour motel this side of the state I can think of. Luara would probably kill me if she knew I had a mental list of hooker hotels by state in my head, not that I ever used that knowledge for that. They just make for good emergency safe havens if you can't reach a safe house and need to regroup for a second. Hell, I might even let her because I can't believe I'm really thinking of taking my 'sister' to one with another guy. Goddamn it, how'd this happen?!
"O-okay." Her voice and her word sort of toss me for a second, because while I was trying to scrub the grimy feeling out of my brain I forgot I asked her a question for a second, but only for a second. I make quick work of the knots around her ankles, and offer her a small apologetic smile each time the tacky blood and dirt mixture makes the silk tug painfully to her raw skin as I pull them off. Then they get a quick wash with some water from my new 'buddy's' canteen he tossed me, and some vigorous scrubbing before I wring them back out as tightly as I can.
I make a quick apology before I put them back on, because the water is going to sting her broken skin a little, but it will mean a little less blood in the back seat. Not that it matters too much though, because if I'm being honest even if Nora wasn't bleeding, our safest bet would still be to burn the car when we ditch it. Nora's not human, and S.H.I.E.L.D has been collecting samples from her for three years, not to mention the fact they have mine too.
After that I have to leave her for just a second. I don't know what this idiot is doing but he still hasn't gotten in the car! I don't even know how that's possible since I can see a standard issue MI-6 credit card car lock pick sheath resting on the hood of the car. If he is MI-6 then lock picking is a cadet level skill, but he keeps shaking his head like he can't concentrate. Maybe I kicked him too hard afterall.
However we don't have time for him to figure it out, so I just fall back on the skills I learned in my not so storybook adolescence and let my hand make a quick sweep of the wheel wells on my side, grinning when they bump into something. God bless the dumbasses in the world who use hide-a-keys.
"Hey." His eyebrows arch in confused annoyance as I call for his attention, then just annoyance as I toss him something and his eyes register the object he just caught in his hand. "Don't start her till we're in 'kay?
I may have ended it like a question but I don't even have the willpower to pretend I care if he answers. Instead I'm moving back over to Nora. She is still sitting where I left her, her face hidden from my view as she currently has it tucked behind her knees. Her right hand, the one decorated the heaviest with cuts and slivered is clenched so tightly I can see white knuckles past the blood and the scattered blades of grass peeking past her fingers. She's probably trying to overcome the pain with pressure now that the adrenaline finally faded and she can really feel the pain again.
"Nora?" Her response all but confirms it. I barely finished saying her name and already I can hear her whisper earnestly.
"I'm okay, I'm okay." But I don't have the time or the heart to tell her how deep those words cut, so instead I go with the kinder/crueler route of humoring her as I kneel down next to her
"Of course you are Princess, you're my little trooper." That compliment makes her shake with yet another indistinguishable sob, but this time she makes it clearer quickly.
"I-I ca-can't get up." She admits, her voice dripping with disappointment and shame, as if she has any reason to blame herself for that problem. The idea that Loki broke her down so much she is actually ashamed with herself for succumbing to the pain makes me so pissed I want to punch a hole in something. This is my fault.
"It's okay Princess." I whisper back, breaking my rule for a second and ruffling her hair gently, before I shift my position a little to make this easier on both of us. "I'm strong enough to carry your weight, you just relax now and let me do it." She has no reason to trust me but my little miracle does anyways, all but her white knuckled hand loosening a little, in a silent sign of permission for me to pick her up.
When I said I had enough strength to carry her weight I wasn't just talking about pounds. If she would let me I'd shoulder everything for her from now on, I owed her so much more then that, but I could give her that much. Even with that being said she did test my words a little.
I've never held Nora, she couldn't be touched after all. However I've held other people to recognize how much someone should strain your arms at different weights, and since I saw Nora's physical results each time I knew how much she was supposed to weigh. But while she doesn't look any bigger, she feels like she is 30 pounds heavier somehow. It confirms my earlier suspicion that whatever Loki's plans for her was involved restoring her to her prime, and whatever he was doing to her behind that door was overcoming the drugs we gave her to keep her muscular density down.
I'm both happy about that because if she is getting stronger she'll have a better chance of defending herself from him, or anyone he sends after us if something happens to me. Hell she'll have a better chance of defending herself from me if he turns me on her again. But I'm also worried, because of S.H.I.E.L.D. If they find out she isn't as controllable anymore and she isn't willing to cooperate, which she is loosing reasons to by the second, they might just decide to get rid of a problem before it becomes one, god knows the idea isn't new.
But I have her curled up in my arms, and as long is she is there, not a damn thing is going to touch her. Not even pretty boy if he opens the door and offers to help. One shake of my head and the look in my eyes has him clenching his jaw and following my instructions to get in the damn driver's seat, the bastard shutting the door a little louder then he should for a carjacking.
It's a little awkward putting a full grown woman in a car seat, even one as short as Nora, but I manage it, and after most of Nora is inside she manages to shift her legs in the rest of the way by herself, which is for the best because blood isn't really a barrier.
After watching her offer me another wet smile and start to lay down on the slightly worn grey pleather of the back seat I make myself walk away from her for the few seconds it takes me to get into the front passenger side seat, my mind preparing itself for the possibility of what I might have to do if someone chases us as I buckle in and close my door.
Then my thoughts do an 'about face', and so do his, because the half count of the sound of a car door following the latching sound of mine. There's Nora's blood in the back seat, but no Nora, and her door is open! Dammit Nora! No!