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 SEVENTY TWO
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1117 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
DUNCAN
Concussion: Usually self-diagnosable. Symptoms may include headache, mine feels like more of a pulsing bass playing for my sole enjoyment. Confusion, makes itself known by the fact I can't remember what's making me evaluate myself in the first place. Lack of coordination, it's there too because my first attempt to move has me sinking back against the dirt to steady myself. Memory loss, I have that too because I can't recall if I felt her leave my hands or if what I'm feeling is sensory memory of her skin. Nausea, check but thankfully hasn't evolved into vomiting. Dizziness, for a second I have to close my eyes because my eyes aren't convinced the world is still and it's not helping my stomach. Ringing in the ears, makes me think the bass somehow found a guitarist to go with my silent skull band. Sleepiness, and excessive fatigue are in my way too but those are the easiest for me to ignore because I'm pissed.
When she hit me, right in the space above the ear and behind my eye, she did it with enough force that I blacked out long enough that I didn't remember falling, let alone having any control of it. I'm aware of it now that I have the motor control to get back up.
My arm must have tried but failed to catch my weight because I found it twisted under my back at an angle I can feel straining my shoulder muscle as I wrestle it out from under my mass. It's not the only thing I felt. As I flip over into a kneel my fingers slide first over something warm and slick, then cool and grating as they land on the damn rock she hit me with.
For half a second that's where all my focus fixes. Flipping my hand over I can't help but be fascinated by the sight of my own shimmering red blood I wiped off that rock with my fingers. For a tiny little woman who shouldn't even be able to walk in her condition, she has one mean left hook, my Lil Hen.
The next half of that second though is filled with me remembering she was crawling off in search for a knife, and I don't care what the reason she thinks she needs it is. I didn't intend to let her have one anyways, but especially not after she started being so disobedient. So much for me going out of my way to be nice.
She didn't even have time to turn her head to look at me before I felt her ankle pop from the force I jerked her back by and then heard the branches shiver from the force her back hit that tree with.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1118 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
I couldn't find the knife I used the first time, but it didn't matter because I was sure Clint probably had more in his clothes somewhere, and that's what I was reaching for. I almost had my hand on the shoulder of his discarded jacket, before I felt it. Calloused hot fingers wrapped aggressively around my leg and jerked, pulling my limb and torso back faster then my arms and dragging me through the dirt on my stomach. That only lasted a fraction of a second though before there was nothing but air around my body. Then there was the curved immovable mass of a tree trunk at my back.
It's amazing my sense could register anything beyond the feeling of the air being punched out of me by a pillar of wood. I felt the bark of the tree, soft enough to cave slightly from my impact, not that it mattered with the sturdiness of the core wood, and fragments of splinters rain down on me after my weight hit the dirt.
I felt the heat in my back from the way the parts of my spine that didn't directly touch the tree continued under the influence of momentum and bent a bit too far the wrong way around the trunk.
I think the worst thing my senses share with me though wasn't the pain and breathlessness, but the sound of boots crunching over the leaves toward me.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1118 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
DUNCAN
Ah dammit. Trying to brush some of the tacky mixture of drying blood and dirt off my hands onto my sleeve I let my eyes drift back over to her as I walk closer to the tree I threw her into. Now look what I did. Even in the process of pushing herself up from the way she landed on her side, I can't miss the sharp flinch of fright as she hears my boots on the leaves.
She even holds out her hand to try and keep me at bay, the effort making her attempt to drag herself father back away from me a little less steady. That attempt reverses itself as I kneel down and reach forward to check her hand for cuts, instead pulling itself in closer to her chest for its own protection.
Being afraid of me, my proximity makes her try to escape in the only other direction available to her since she has a tree behind her, and a thorn bush to her left. Her quick movement makes my own quick by necessity and only ends up scaring her more when my hand shoots forward and slams into the tree trunk to stop her exit right.
"Shh..." I pretend the sharper shiver in the middle of her trembles at that sound doesn't carve an emotional line in me and continue right along with my words. "...Hey, it's okay, don't be scared Lil Hen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that, really, I shouldn't have done that, but you can't treat a guy like that and not expect him to be a little upset."
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1119 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
The voice is familiar, and so is the face. He's a Caucasian, with a masculine face, his facial features stronger and prouder than a woman's would be. His jaw is mostly a square one, up until the point of his chin that turns into more of an oval, and with the presence of his trimmed beard looks even smoother around the edges. Fitting with his prominent features is a wide-set mouth, and nose, but not so wide to look disproportionate to the rest of him.
He's also a brunette like me but his hair looks more on the darker end of the color scale. I'd also guess, given the part that isn't pulled flat by the fact it's in a ponytail, that his hair has somewhat of a natural curl to it.
He's dressed just like the other men I saw, in that he is dressed for combat. Camo pants, leather boots, a simple olive tee-shirt and a tactical vest with a camo jacket for warmth in that somewhat frigid place.
I made the exact same observations about Duncan before when I first had a chance to really look at him. The details are the same, the clothes, the skin, the hair, the body; they're all a perfect match, except for the person that's actually inside.
"Shh... Hey, it's okay, don't be scared Lil Hen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that, really, I shouldn't have done that, but you can't treat a guy like that and not expect him to be a little upset." Those aren't Duncan's words even if they're using his voice to try to trick me."
"Shh, I know, I know, I'm an asshole. It's okay, you cry it out... you do whatever you have to as long as it's quiet agent, I got you. You're safe." Those are the real Duncan's words. The words of a man who was willing to put himself in danger for a woman who wasn't even his mission. That Duncan would have never thrown me into a tree and say it was because he was a little upset. I couldn't have been that wrong about him, could I?
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1119 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
DUNCAN
Sometimes when an animal is semi feral, it doesn't always resort to flight or fight when it's scared and cornered, sometimes it just stiffens up like a statue and endures your presence, hoping you will not hurt it. That's what her reaction reminds me of now. A semi feral animal trapped in a cage and hoping if it doesn't fight my fingers it won't get hurt. I blame that reaction on boss and the early stages of Stockholm syndrome I saw appear before I got her out of there.
All my time watching her on those Manhattan streets I know what the real her looks like. So even though I spooked her a little, I'm confident that with enough time between her and that bunker I can get her back to being that girl who lived in Nolita.
She whimpers like an animal too. Her voice filling my ears unexpectedly as my attention shifted a fraction away from her to my tactile search in my pocket. "W-what-t ha-p-pened-d to -y-you?"
The furrowing of my brows is in confusion, but seeing her eyes shift away makes her misinterpretation of that pretty clear, but I don't react to that. Instead since I'm in a bit of hurry I multitask, and returning to my search of my pockets, I answer her with my first assumption to her question. She's probably asking what happened to me after the car.
"I'm sorry I didn't follow you right away." That stupid family and their dog was one thing,... "I know a lot happened while we were separated, I would have found you sooner, but I ran into some trouble of my own." ...but the boss was another. "Don't worry about that though, cause I'm here now."
My fingers finally finish their task. I kept my hand in my pocket while I removed it from its case, because I knew the second she saw even the container she would know what I planned and freak out, so I waited until it was securely in my hand before I risked letting her see it. "Now this will help you relax okay?" And sure enough one look at the little yellow dart in my hand finally has her committing to the flight response.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1120 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
I forgot the bush to my left was one of thorns, but I also forgot that caring about that was an option just as quickly at that sight of that tranquilizer dart. Duncan's become a different person, and he wants to drug me, all my concerns are secondary to my need for that not to happen!
He was too close though for me to really have much chance at getting away. I barely got one hand closed around a thorny branch before I felt him grab me again and yank me back quick enough that I felt the thorns cut fresh lines over my arms all the way down to my fingertips.
His hands place themselves against my waist, my shoulders, my neck, and my arms as he makes himself an obstacle between me and my desperation, but through it all he keeps me on my stomach. I can't fight him as well on my stomach, human limbs weren't intended to bend as well backwards as they do forwards. All he has to do is make sure I can't roll over and he wins. He is winning. CLINT!
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1120 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
DUNCAN
"No! Duncan! no..." She pleads on the border of a scream, except the struggling makes it hard to catch her breath. "...no needles please, please no!" And no amount of my reassurance or shushing is going to make any of that stop, not that I thought it would, I haven't forgotten that last time we were at this point.
I wasn't even the one holding the needles then, I was just was the one holding her. The crazy doctor was the one with the drugs, I was just the muscle standing to her left, pinning her on her back to the table with one hand wrapped around her over extended arm, and the other pushing down on her shoulder to keep her from rolling over or thrashing. I had a front row seat to her face in those moments, and while I can't see it now, her voice has the same desperate fear.
"Shh, shh, it's okay. I'm taking you with me. It's only going to be a little poke." That fear turns to sobbing as the needle breaks her skins attempt at resistance. "Don't worry, it's not in a bullet like I did with Barton." Then it switches to breaths of hitching silence.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1121 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
...Like I did with Barton. His mouth was inches from my ear so I know mishearing him is isn't possible, but it should be, because Duncan couldn't say that.
No, he could say that, it's not impossible, it's is possible is curling his fingers, the rest is just the aftermath. I just want it to be that way. I trusted him. Even before I knew he was an agent, a STRIKE captain. I felt something for him. Gratitude for kindness in an elevator, and fondness for the stability he gave me in the chaos of that bunker room.
He was supposed to be a lifeline, a life ring at the end of rope for me to hang on to before I drowned in the storm, not the broken blipping of an heart monitor. Don't worry, it's not in a bullet... He shot my 'brother' so he could take me with him? He shot my 'brother' so he could take me with him. It doesn't feel like a rope, or a heart line anymore. He shot my 'brother' so he could take me with him! It feels like my blood has reached a boiling point.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1121 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
DUNCAN
It itched, but I just viewed it is a distraction to be ignored as her struggles renewed with a broken scream. I hadn't meant to mention I was the sniper who perforated her friend over there, at least not this early. I planned on that conversation happening after I got both of us out of reach of S.H.I.E.L.D, HYDRA and Loki.
The Asgardian sent me into these woods to bring her back to him, but I never intended to do that. I don't know the exact moment when it happened, but it's been building for a while now, and all I can think about is her. I care about her, I want her, I need her.
I said take her to France, and that was plan. I have some places there, arranged so carefully even this damn eye hasn't seen them, and I can convince her I'm the better option there. I can keep her there. She's mine, and I refuse to share. Nobody's but mine! They all want to use her, I just want her. I'll try figure out how to do something about this camera in my head on the way too.
It itched, it doesn't itch anymore. I felt it in the pad of my thumb first, and just there. I thought maybe it was a scratch and the nerves were just reacting to the salt in my sweat. Now though I can feel the 'itch' in my palm and over the tendons on the back of my hand, it's traveling up my wrist. Its traveling up both my wrists!
No, not up my wrists. I wasn't looking at my hands before, my focus on them not visually necessary to restrain her until long enough for the sedatives to kick in. I'm looking now, and I'm re-evaluating everything I thought I knew about her. In my wrists!
I found her covered in what was mostly her own blood, and to restrain her, I had the blood on my skin too, only it's not on my skin anymore, I can see the red liquid soak in like my skin has turned from flesh into a sponge, and the itching rash forming in its wake. Only its rising higher than a itching rash, it's bordering on a burn. Its bordering on a pain I don't have a word for because I can feel it deeper then just my skin now, its in my muscles. The pain making them stiffen in shock, is the rash spreads like climbing burrow lines to match my veins!
Its like a chemical burn, a terrifying, internal, magickal fucking chemical burn! If I wasn't panicking about this I'd probably have a second to be impressed, and understand why everyone wanted her so bad if this is the magick she has. The offensive potential of being able to damage tissue like this is enormous, but it's happening to my tissue so all I'm thinking about is making it stop.
My first instinct is to let her go. The starting point was where my bloody hands touched her bloody arms, so it makes sense that if we separate it will stop. Except my hope proved wrong. Even after I let go of her, something that proved harder than I thought by the fact my right hand had locked up on me, and I watched her unsteadily try to pull her knees under her to stand I realized I could feel the burn crawl from my shoulder across my collar bone. It didn't stop, it wasn't going to stop!
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1122 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
NORA
His weight was heavy on top of me and his hands were rough where one held my wrist behind my back, and they parodied a hug as it rested across my collar bone and held my other wrist there as he waited for his poison to take control of me, and I could feel it doing just that.
I was screaming and struggling, both inside and out but even the boiling anger in my blood didn't make the fact the shadows of the forest were growing shadows of their own at the edges and I could feel the same cold numbness creeping into my limbs just like I did when Clint stabbed me with his own needles.
Then suddenly his weight wasn't heavy on my back anymore. He pitched back, my own disorientation making his absence more jarring. It only made me waste a second before I channeled my rage into stubborn endurance and tried to remind my legs who they belonged to, then my eyes as my vision narrowed is the abyss swarmed at the edges.
I only caught a glimpse of what looked like Duncan frantically scratching at his throat before my own neck became my greatest concern.
My scalp burned, and I could feel the wisps of my own torn out hair tickling my skin from their position still in his fingers as they tightened. He suddenly yanked me up by my hair and threw me back to the dirt. I barely even had time for the stars to clear my eyes from my head hitting a tree root before I felt the far too familiar sensation of my windpipe being crushed.
"MAKE IT STOP!" My ears didn't recognize the words beyond the ringing, but my mind was still able to read them on his lips as he sat on my waist and pressed his hands against my throat, the curve of my skull forcing my head forward and closing my windpipe even more as I kicked in vain and clawed at his face with the hand that wasn't clawing at his fingers.
Even when I avenged my hair, grabbing a section above the bleeding gash I gave him from the rock and yanked out some of those curls. He only shook his head with a snarl and hauling me up by my throat slammed me down so hard I felt the bile trying to rise out of my clamped off throat.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
1122 HOURS
RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE
CARMEL INDIANA
DUNCAN
The wet desperation in her eyes tripled as well as her trashing as I felt her throat spasm violent but I didn't care about that. I could feel the acid climbing into my ear canal and behind my eyes now. That's what I cared about, making her make it stop! So I felt no guilt or pity as I grabbed some debri from the forest floor and lifted it over my head for a good swing.
I felt something though when the an explosion of bloody flesh, bone fragments, and wooden splinters formed a hole in my hand.
SNIPER?! FUCK! WHERE? WAS IT BARTON?! NO, HE'S STILL... They say you can't stop a thought like you can stop a sentence but that's where my thoughts stopped with a 'THWACK!' and my senses took in the sight of the tree tops before my ears revealed there was a time delay between them and my eyes as I was her wield a branch, the end getting bloodier with each wet or metallic striking sound before one well placed hit vibrated off my eye with a 'THWOGG!' and all my eye recorded was static and a dull 'FA-THUD'. Good girl.