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. (My apologies. I didn't realize FF removed the links. I have corrected the problem in what way I can, so for those who like the visual additions, feel free to check them out.)
DAY THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1036 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
CLINT
"You did good. Shh, you did good." I praise her a lot more out of breath then I would like, because even though I tried not to, I did scream. But she needs to know she did great, because I'm squeezing her shaking hand closed so she can't see her skin stained with my blood.
S.H.I.E.L.D agents get nice things, and one of those nice things is that any agent who works in the field is required to have on them at all times is this thing called an Xstat Syringe. It can stop the hemorrhaging from a bullet wound in about 15 seconds, which for any agent unfortunate to get shot means they have a better chance of living, and fixing the mistake that got them shot in the first place.
Thing is though, they hurt like a bitch, especially if you don't have the luxury of morphine because you can't afford to be dull even for a second, the situation I find myself in right now.
We did my leg first, and because I had the steadier hands I did the cutting. It's not that I didn't trust Nora with a knife at this point, if anything I wonder if I should give her one for her own safety, but I didn't need her turning my pants into a one sided pair of shorts, so I cut the hole in the material.
She didn't look squeamish at the sight of blood, god bless her, if anything she looked more concerned about the fact we didn't have anything to clean the wound with first. For someone who can't, couldn't, touch people for almost three years, she sure is a great little nurse.
She hesitated when I told her to just do it, because we didn't have time. But after I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and pulled her a little closer in the process that hesitation burned away in the heat of her determination right before she shoved that plastic tub in my wound and pressed down on the plunger, filling my leg with cotton pellets.
That hurt, is I'm sure you can imagine. At first the plastic stuck and tugged at the broken tissue until the blood coated it and it slid in easier, but then I had a swelling mass of expanding fibers determined to test the limits of a very narrow space. I didn't scream for that one, I managed to bite back the sound. But not for the next one.
We gently loosened enough of the vest to tug up the side just high enough to give her access. It was awkward and I had to hold it there with my bad arm because I needed my good arm free in case I needed to grab my gun, but I endured it because I sure as hell wasn't taking the damn thing all the way off. Having her tug the part of my shirt the bullet pulled into the wound in my side hurt too, and I was sure it left a few threads behind but that was a concern for later.
When she pushed the plunger in my control reached its limit and snapped, my hand almost losing the edge of the vest as the urge to start beating something to distract myself from the pain welled up like a geyser, my little princess proved she was brilliant as she leaned against me and hugging me low around my elbows, started whispering "Shhh, be still, it's okay." Like she was the strong one.
It took me a minute to breath past that pain, because let's not kid ourselves, I had something in my side expanding farther than it had space to, and absorbing the moisture from the tissue of my internal organs that it blessed with its touch. I don't think the english language has sufficient swear words for that feeling.
When I felt her start to lift her hands that's when I made myself move. I know Nora's strong and brave, but I really have no idea how she would react to seeing her 'brothers' blood soaking into the lines of her palms, and with a shooter still out there waiting to take pot shots at us, I didn't have time to allow her the option of freaking out. "You did good. Shh, you did good. Now help me up."
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1033 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
This is my fault. Clint told me not to dare blame myself, but that doesn't change the fact it's true. The shooter shot him in the leg first, which in itself is a very survivable wound, but since I had to help Clint stop the bleeding I couldn't miss the way the bullet pierced the soft tissue at least two feet below where my body would have rested in his arms.
I also didn't miss the fact that the fact that the wound to his side was also lower than my body would have rested. The smaller hole marking the entry wound on his back and the wider exit wound a little lower still, telling me the shooter was aiming down specifically to avoid hitting me. Clint took two bullets because he was holding me.
He took two bullets because he was focused on me, and not our surroundings. "Nora, did I tell how I won my wife's heart?" His question is out of the blue, and nothing short of laughably confusing because a few minutes ago I didn't even know he had one.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1038 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
CLINT
Using her as a bipedal crutch I could practically feel her inner turmoil as she acted in place of my bad leg and let me steer us over the levelest ground of an untrodden forest floor.
I told her not to beat herself up, but I knew she probably would eventually. Nora can be so strong, but there's one thing that can always make her fall like a tree, and that's loss. Her memory, her 'family', her ability to touch, her ability to not be afraid of just being near other human beings. Nora lost all of that for a while. So the one thing that terrifies her, more then anything, more then even skin contact, is being alone again. And she isn't saying it, but right I know she is terrified that she is going to end up alone again and it's all her fault.
The shocked confusion is adorable, and I sort of hate it, because reading and persuading people is the sort of thing Natasha is better at, but she isn't here. "Watch that log." I tell her first, my eyes noticing what's obscured by a blanket of leaves and moss. "So do you wanna hear it, it's a real modern fairytale I've been told?"
She doesn't really answer, unless you count the cautious nod and tightening of her eyebrows. "We'd been dating for two weeks, and I beat three men to death because they broke into her apartment." The only reaction is those pretty eyes getting even wider. "I hadn't even slept with her yet, and those men weren't there for me, but I still killed three men and ended up on death row for a woman I barely knew. Now you and I have three years, you're my sister. I would stand in front of a cannon for you, now stop beating yourself up, or I'm gonna kiss you okay?"
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1039 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
I chuckled, even though every single thing about the situation told me to do the opposite. But then that single chuckle caused something that gave birth to hysterical giggling and his grinning smile, as I turned and whipped away the remnants of a snot bubble on the cleanest inch I could find of the jacket's sleeve.
"Well..." I've never been vain about my appearance, but I was never insecure about it either. I knew I was attractive, but amplifying that was never necessary or something I put the effort into because the phobia I had made discouraging unwanted attention more important. As long as I was clean, presentable, and comfortable I was content with my appearance, but now I feel embarrassed by it the first time I can recall. Covered in blood and dirt, blowing snot bubbles right after my 'brother' says he wants to kiss me. "...I think I just took care of that."
But to my surprise I feel his arm resting over my shoulder tighten. "Nora, you beautiful idiot." The insult is hollow, and even after the first half formed feeling of offense I realize it was just there to hook my attention. "I have a four year old. Trust me, you're still kissable." That was almost romantic until he added "but please don't make me make this weird, you're still my sister." And that just made me laugh, with more tears but no bubbles this time.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1040 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
CLINT
That got her moving again, without drifting back into her head, which was the goal, though a small part of me was sort of disappointed. I didn't lie when I said I would kiss her, just like I didn't lie when I said it would be weird, because I think of her as a sister, and I'm married, but I'm also still a living breathing male.
Though that breathing part is getting harder, and is starting to consume my attention in a building way.
"No, ten feet, round the left side." I instruct her when I can feel her pace slow just a little as she tries to determine the path. And just those seven words make my chest burn in its effort to not let my voice wheeze.
I felt it, a shallow ache at the back of my chest where the third round hit hard enough to bruise my shoulder blade. Or at least I was stubbornly refusing to call it anything other than a bruise up until now. I knew it broke skin and tissue, but I also knew it didn't pass through the bone since I still had a functional arm even if it hurt like hell. I think it cracked the bone just enough though to bruise me internally, and that's where my problem really is.
I can feel my lung filling with blood, drowning me slowly even though I'm walking in an ocean of air, and I'm still a bastard because I can't bring myself to tell her that, because I've already checked and I know I don't have a syringe to relieve the pressure with. Then the option is taken from me as I realize Nora only went nine feet before taking a left and my foot sunk down into the hole filled with leaves I gave those directions to avoid.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1040 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
As soon as I felt it, his arm around my shoulder sliding farther up and pulling me down with him under the weight of gravity, I tried to steady both of our falls but I was already too late, the forces of nature and physics against were us. Between Clint's weight pulling me at my highest point, the downward slope of the round, and the damp underlayer of the leaves there was nothing I could do to stop our fall. Even reaching out and grabbing something, by the time I thought of it was a split second too late because my weight had already landed on top of Clint's chest.
My first response was a combination of apologizing and trying to help him, but his first reaction was faster than mine. I barely had the time to register the feel of his hands on my skin before I felt the slope of the hill collide with my back as he shoved me off of him, but any offense or pain I might have felt from that was blanketed by the sight of my 'brother' on his hands and knees, his chest heaving with a frighteningly wet sounds, and blood dripping out of his mouth before his limbs buckle. "CLINT!"
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1041 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
CLINT
Everything felt distant, but the fact that I felt vertical, and could feel the damp combination of sweat and blood against my skin cooling let me know I must have blacked out long enough for Nora to sit me up and remove my vest.
The echoing crack of a open palm impacting my cheek when I half consciously tried to catch her delicately prodding fingers is what really woke up. She just slapped the shit out of me, and given the way her eyes widen and she freezes up after that for a second I can tell she is just as shocked by her own actions as I am, but then the fury sinks back in and blinds her pity.
"W-w-h-h-y-y?!" Her voice is so broken by rage and heartbreak thats its an odd miracle that her eyes are so dry. Her tears have all been used up, and they went and got wasted on a lying shit like me.
When I don't answer quick enough I can tell she wants to hit me again, my little spitfire princess, but she checks that urge as her eyes do their best to overlook the drying red smear the bullet wound in my side still wears from the blood that soaked into my shirt, only to have to look at the foaming red spittle running down my chin. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did-n't w-want you to w-worry Prin-incess." My answer makes everything from her fists to her eyes clench up as she draws in an angry hiss through her nose, her body shaking in rage at my stupidity. "What do I do?"
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1042 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
I want to just hit him, again and again, for being so selfishly stupid. He didn't tell me he was bleeding internally, he was drowning in blood, because he didn't want to worry me?! But I didn't lift a finger to do anything else but take his pulse because of something else he is doing, or isn't.
He isn't bothering to try to hide the breathlessness of his words anymore, and that might be the most terrifying thing he could do. Not kill people right in front of me, or have glowing eyes, but not care enough to try and put on a brave face anymore. Please god, just go back to doing that for me, please.
"You... run... Nora." That was not what I want. I barely even let him finish my name before I shake my head in desperate anger.
"No. What else I do?" There's no way that is happening. He can't make me leave him behind, and as much as I should be happy he isn't strong enough to force me to do anything against my will, I am horrified for the very same reason, because he needs to be that strong again.
"...G-go... Nora...please."
"Fuck you Barton, no." The swearing makes those grey lips curl up a bit in a smirk as his clammy hand shakily tries to lift itself up to my cheek, getting my assistance before it even makes it half way. "...Honest... eyes..." And even though his eyes are open, they don't see me. "Clint? Clint! CLINT!"