Seven Years Ago

She'd liked Vienna. The architecture, rich history, vibrant art and resilient culture but now it was tainted, and no matter what she did, no matter how small it was it always going to be. Every time she came here she would think of his lie. He'd lied. The act itself wasn't surprising, they were in the business after all, to their allies just as much as their enemies which was where she'd gone wrong. A lesson she should have learned by now but that was the flaw in believing in the best in people. In believing she had finally earned her place. Foolish to forget that just because she was generally accepted there weren't still many who resented her presence, that there weren't those who just had entirely different codes of ethics. Reckless to think there was ever any level of safety, never mind the invincibility she'd felt just a moment ago.

There wasn't.

And there never would be.

He'd lied with such honest conviction it wasn't until the elevator doors opened that she realized she wasn't in this tiny dress to fit in as a last-minute cocktail waitress. No, as she looked around at all the drunk middle-aged white men with glassy eyed girls at least half their age draped over their laps Tess knew exactly why she was dressed this way. Why her handler had insisted on freshly manicured nails, hair neatly curled and makeup done to the nines, a spa day she silently choked with horrified laughter to think of now. He was a good liar. And smart. Desperate to pull this move, because while the agency wouldn't care Coulson would, but that didn't help her now. She only had two options here.

And she didn't know how to do either.

"Told you you'd get your own. Just had to be patient."

He knew.

The man who'd spoken, who winked at the only one without a woman, girl, on his lap, who quickly stood with a pleased grin and started making his way over, he knew the truth. She could see it in the way he looked at her when the other man's back was to him, the mild curiosityand just barely hidden desire to see someone lose. There was even a brief flare of pity but they were both quick to brush that off. Every inch of her skin felt like something was crawling over it, tiny razor sharp pincers anxiously looking for the best places to dig in, and they started to as the man finally stopped in front of her and held out his hand. Disgusting, revolting and repulsive were a few words that ran through her mind but when her lips automatically slid into a coy smirk as she took it those feelings became more directed at herself. He didn't know what he was doing, not really- to him she was just a whore selling her body and if he was happy to pay then what was the harm?

How many times had she said sex work was the world's oldest profession? Yes, most women and girls were forced into it and she worked hard to burn the men and organizations responsible for that to the ground but some women chose it and that was fine. That was their choice.

And this was hers. She didn't want it to be, spent every nanosecond he led her to the second floor of this gaudy penthouse furiously trying to think of another option, a motto she'd never found so taunting until now. But none of them were good enough. Sure in this moment they would save her this humiliation, but what about after? What would happen if she didn't get this information? Would someone else be lied to? And what if she did but caused unintentional, uncontrollable consequences? How big of a screw up would that be? How would they punish her this time? How many people would be hurt because she couldn't handle something she'd always known was going to happen?

True operatives did what they had to.

For the mission.

That was all Tess could think as he led her into a bedroom that had already been used, as she forced her shoulders to loosen as he gave her a sloppy kiss. Not for king or country as he then pointed to the floor and her knees immediately bent. Sure as shit not for god or glory as the only reassurance she got that he couldn't hear the screaming in her head was his unbothered smirk before he tilted his head back. Not for any of those innocents that might get hurt if she didn't do this, a block of ice forming around her heart that cooled not just the rage but also love that drove her to protect them. Not for her team who would riot when, if, they found out how he yanked her hair to pull her back upright. Definitely not for the person she couldn't allow herself to think about for fear of the unleashing it would cause as he motioned for her to get on the bed. Not even for herself, for love or light or everything, anythingthat was right.

For the mission.

Rape.

She'd always hated that word, had a visceral reaction starting the first time she'd heard it, even though she knew how important it was to use it, to draw attention and not sweep things under the rug. And that had been before. Now she didn't know if sheeven deservedto use it. Didn't it diminish what it really was? Could it really be that if she'd let it happen? How was what she'd done any different than honey potting?

Initially it might not have been her choice but there'd been a moment when it had. At the time it had seemed clear, loathsome but clear but now… She didn't know. She needed space to figure it out and she was getting it. It was all she'd had after she'd left the hotel, refusing to see the handler who'd sent her there and for the first time the agency didn't fight her. She had Nysa to thank for that. Their conversation was something she hardly remembered, everything up until she'd tugged her dress back into place unfortunately crystal clear, no blacking or blocking out for her. Everything except the love and agony in her friend's voice as she realized what had happened. She hated that she'd put telling the others on her but it had to be done and once they'd been assured she was physically okay they hadn't pushed to see her, much, but in the end even Vivienne had agreed to leave her alone. It wasn't like there was anything they could do- what was done was done and it couldn't ever be undone. She was lucky she'd made it this long. Most female operatives didn't, or agents. Most women didn't.

It was only for a second but she took her eyes off the road to stare at her shaking hands, tightening their grip on the steering wheel until they stilled. Tess had always known this was going to happen but no matter how hard she'd tried to prepare herself it hadn't worked. But that was okay.Shewould be okay. It was going to be hard, and it was going to take time, and she was likely never going to fully heal from this but she would heal. She just couldn't do that around her team. And she couldn't do it in Chicago. Couldn't bear the weight of their empathy, couldn't think about putting them back together when she was still broken. Thinking of them, ofhimmade her stomach roil and she had to take several deep breaths to stop from throwing up, again, torn between staring at the highway and what was beside the highway. The ocean.

Herocean.

It wasn't like she'd expected a massive geological feature to look much different but it still stunned her how unchanged it was. Even the road signs were the same, maybe a little worse for wear but she swore they looked just as they had the last time she'd driven this road. At a certain point the memories got to be too much and she had to switch to auto-pilot, guided by nothing but muscle memory as she made her way down the winding road, at last stopping in front of the small cabin. The spare key was even still hidden on top of the porch light, though that was now broken.

Later she would realize it wasn't as dusty as it should've been but when she finally worked up the courage to walk inside she wasn't seeing it as it was but as it had been. When the windows had been clean enough to fill the rooms with light and the space had echoed with laughter, when you could feel the love that saturated the floorboards. When it had been alive. Her feet took her through each of the rooms, for once her mouth and brain both quiet, even the rebreaking of her heart silent as she took it all in until a muffled shout caught her attention. She knew that voice. Again she followed as her feet led her around the side of the house, stopping when she saw the man who stood on the front stoop, his familiar features pursed with annoyance as he looked for the intruder.

That was what she was now.

Here.

"This cabin isn't available to rent!" He continued, letting out a frustrated breath before he stepped back, still mumbling to himself. "Nothing even works anyway."

She'd noticed.

She must have said that out loud because he startled, his confusion making a fast jump to shock, a bit stronger than her own because unlike her he hadn't been expecting this reunion but she didn't think by much. Thirteen years might be a long time to be apart but not so much it erased the seventeen they'd had before. A whole life spent together, growing up alongside one another.

"Hey Noah."

But they weren't children anymore and when his face hardened she knew he wasn't going to make this homecoming easy on her. "What are you doing here?"

"I n-"

No.

This would not be easy.

She couldn't stop the words from catching in her throat, or the tears that sprung to her eyes but suddenly Tess was calm as she wiped them away. She hadn't known what she was looking for by coming here but now it was clear.

"I needed to see if it was still my home. If… any part of the girl that left is still part of me."

Noah took a slow but deep breath, a small frown forming before he nodded. "Welcome home m'aʔahink."

Translation: m'aʔahink is Nuu-chah-nulth for sister, which is the dialect spoken by the Tla-o-qui-aht people, a First Nations tribe located on Vancouver Island in Canada.