Rhiannon McIvor and Charis Thomas
The tote once again over her arm, Rhiannon slid the business card into a small side pocket as they walked away from the desk and into the museum proper. Already her mind whirled with questions - like whether she would be allowed to take up such a position and where she was going to find a concert harp to practice with before her audition - but she put those questions on hold as Imiel brought her back to the present. His compliments caught her off-guard, not that she hadn't heard praise for her playing before, but by just how much they meant to her coming from him. His embarrassment was catching as a flush coloured her cheeks as well.
"Oh, well...thank-you. I am glad you enjoyed the performance. And..." she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, briefly pressed her lips together as she tried to come up with an appropriate response, settling on, "thank-you. You're too kind. I've...had a lot of practice, I suppose. Both with the harp and being myself."
She realized how silly that last part sounded and inadvertently let out a light titter. Rhiannon opened her mouth to correct her ego-centric blunder, but she couldn't think of what to say. This was so unlike her. A queen had all sorts of phrases prepped for these sorts of occasions, but none of them were coming to mind. She looked at Imiel, a strange open-mouthed smile on her face, and she decided that honesty was likely best.
"I'm sorry that sounded so conceited. I just...I...you caught me off-guard and...I rather like hearing compliments from you, Imiel."
~~~~~
Charis rolled her eyes as Annie took her hand, the little girl pointing at something she liked in the display, and she gladly moved away from the weirdness that was her mother. Why couldn't she just accept a compliment like a normal person. Or at least without giggling. She was pretty sure queens weren't supposed to giggle. Not that she'd met any other royalty, but it just seemed wrong.
"Charis?"
It was Ewan. He sounded frightened. She gripped Annie's hand a little tighter and stood very still, listening.
"The person. They're back. They're behind us."
Charis knew what she had to do. She had to identify the person with the invisible magical markings without them noticing that she'd seen them. Maybe the reflection in the display case...
A beret spun in place, stuck to the ground with a knife. No, not a knife, a caduceus. No, a knife. A caduceus. Strings floated down and attached themselves to the chappeau, now spattered with red. The strings made it dance. <tap tap tap tap> went the caduceus closer and closer and closer as the beret's edges dripped pools of red onto the floor
Charis gasped and pitched forward, putting her free hand on the glass display case to catch her balance. She came to herself and realized she was staring at her own reflection in the marble floor now. But she hadn't been looking at the floor. There had been a man...and then...
"Charis? Are you all right?"she felt her mother lightly pulling at her shoulders, simultaneously pulling her away from the display and turning her body to give Rhiannon enough space to kneel in front of her. What should she say? She was still trying to get her mind around the weird pictures that had seemed so real. Like she could have reached out and touched them. And yet also cloud-like? And what was it all supposed to mean?
"Yes. I just lost my balance." her eyes were still on the floor when she said it and she could tell that her mom didn't believe her. But what was she going to do? They were in public and she definitely wasn't going to tell her mom anything about what she saw while at the museum, if ever.
Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Cait McIvor
She hadn't meant to hurt him. Sure, she knew that some of the things she wanted to say could have caused some discomfort, but she hadn't expected to cause Marshal pain. The last thing this man needed was more pain. She had just been hoping to alleviate some of the pressure he seemed to be putting on himself...it was hard to see him doubt his nature. His intentions.
At least he was holding her hand and that was really what she'd needed. The reminder of his shortened lifespan caused her to squeeze his fingers just a little tighter. Partly anger with Ginny and partly some stupid idea that if she held onto him he couldn't slip away. Cait looked down at their joined hands and wiggled them back and forth, a gentle smile on her face, before looking back up at Marshal.
"Hey, I didn't mean to put more pressure on you. You're actually handling this super weird situation really well. Better than my family is, to be honest. The kids are taking this a little too much in stride for me to believe that they're okay. And Rhys...well, I guess I would just appreciate a 'thank-you' for doing my job every once in awhile. Not that I expect it - I mean, it's my job - but sometimes...when it's cost me so much? Would it be too much to ask?" she was staring up into his face, forgetting for a moment that she was just a tiny tween and he a grown man. And then she remembered that today wasn't really about her and her mouth twisted into a half-laugh as she shook her head.
"Anyway, sorry. Not trying to dump on you. But I guess - or I hope - it's more like I don't mind you knowing what I'm thinking. It's easier to talk to you than it is to talk to my sister. When I am with you, I don't feel judged and that's...it's just really refreshing. I'm glad you're here Marshal. And I'm glad you have a family and that you're happy. Please know that if there is anything I can do to give you more time to enjoy the people you love - I'll do it. I'm here for you."
She hadn't meant to hurt him. Sure, she knew that some of the things she wanted to say could have caused some discomfort, but she hadn't expected to cause Marshal pain. The last thing this man needed was more pain. She had just been hoping to alleviate some of the pressure he seemed to be putting on himself...it was hard to see him doubt his nature. His intentions.
At least he was holding her hand and that was really what she'd needed. The reminder of his shortened lifespan caused her to squeeze his fingers just a little tighter. Partly anger with Ginny and partly some stupid idea that if she held onto him he couldn't slip away. Cait looked down at their joined hands and wiggled them back and forth, a gentle smile on her face, before looking back up at Marshal.
"Hey, I didn't mean to put more pressure on you. You're actually handling this super weird situation really well. Better than my family is, to be honest. The kids are taking this a little too much in stride for me to believe that they're okay. And Rhys...well, I guess I would just appreciate a 'thank-you' for doing my job every once in awhile. Not that I expect it - I mean, it's my job - but sometimes...when it's cost me so much? Would it be too much to ask?" she was staring up into his face, forgetting for a moment that she was just a tiny tween and he a grown man. And then she remembered that today wasn't really about her and her mouth twisted into a half-laugh as she shook her head.
"Anyway, sorry. Not trying to dump on you. But I guess - or I hope - it's more like I don't mind you knowing what I'm thinking. It's easier to talk to you than it is to talk to my sister. When I am with you, I don't feel judged and that's...it's just really refreshing. I'm glad you're here Marshal. And I'm glad you have a family and that you're happy. Please know that if there is anything I can do to give you more time to enjoy the people you love - I'll do it. I'm here for you."
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 769
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Marshal Knox and Jameson Bryant
"Oh, Cait..." Marshal said softly. "You aren't dumping on me. Never. I'm glad you felt like you could talk to me about this. I see you. I'm sorry that the others sometimes don't. You deserve to be seen."
He was fully aware just how lucky he was. She didn't hate him. She didn't think he was a creep. He bundled up the shame and guilt about the things had felt for her, and added it to the pile of shame and guilt that he had to tuck away so he could function. But this newest burden was just for a little while, he reminded himself. Surely this one would fade. Before long, he would no longer see her old face and form when he thought of her. His body would forget the sensation of her holding him. He would lose the reflex to act the way he used to around her. She would become just the kid next door, as she should be.
He could be there for her, though. He could help protect her, make this unexpected second childhood as easy and happy as it could possibly be. There wasn't romance in his future - not with her, or with anyone else. He saw that now. It was too late for that, too many opportunities had been missed, there were too many things he couldn't possibly hope to make another person understand, his mind was too warped and twisted. But that was okay. He had everything he truly needed, for whatever time it turned out he had left.
"I'm here any time. Whatever you need. Just say the word."
He could be a good friend to her. He was sure of that. And he would be, and the guilt would ease… or else he would just learn to live with it. He was good at that too.
Jameson poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt," he said. “But we'll need to go soon. It’s almost time for your appointment with Dr. Laurel.”
“Okay,” Marshal said. “I’m ready. You’re going to stay, like you said, right? And make sure she doesn’t…?”
“I will. I promise. Hey, Cait, could you do me a favor and destroy this document? Like really destroy it - I don't want someone fishing it out of the trash. Thank you."
Jameson handed Cait the transcript of the session where Ginny had used Marshal's activation code. They couldn't risk that falling into the wrong hands, and Jameson was confident that he could trust Cait to get the job done. She didn't want to see Marshal used like that again any more than he did.
***
It hadn’t escaped the superhero’s notice how worried Marshal was about the therapist touching him - despite physical contact being something he was apparently otherwise amenable to. When he could do so discreetly, he said, “Marshal, I’ve got to ask… did Ginny ever make you do things you didn’t want to do? I know about the brain stuff. But I mean… sexual things? Without your consent?”
Marshal looked away. His hands clenched. His heart raced and his breathing got shallow. He felt her fingers tracing down his chest again and he shuddered… and shook his head. “No. I did stuff with Ginny, yeah. But it was consensual.”
“Are you sure?” Jameson probed gently. “I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t seem very happy about it.”
“Of course I’m sure. I mean, look at me. I’m a super soldier, right? She was just a regular person. What was she going to do, hold me down and have her way with me?” Marshal tried to force a laugh, but it came out sounding choked.
Jameson shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be physical, Marshal. She was your therapist. There was a power dynamic there. She had a lot of sway over you.”
Marshal shook his head. “No. It was just me. I made a stupid choice. I was confused. I was lonely. I was sad. It was just a fling. I just wanted something physical…” The contradictory lies poured out, and even Marshal could tell none of what he was saying made sense. He tried to stop the flow of words, the torrent of excuses - but then Jameson’s arm was around him, and Jameson was rubbing his back, and somehow the truth he had determined to keep buried deep inside forever was spilling out of his mouth. “You have to understand, Jameson. You have to understand. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. When I was with HYDRA. It was mostly just violence, the constant violence, but sometimes, every once in a while… well. It’s not like it didn’t ever occur to anyone what else you can do with a soldier who can’t refuse your orders. People did things to me sometimes. And then Ginny…”
Jameson said nothing, didn’t interrupt, just kept rubbing his back.
Marshal took a deep breath. “Look, it was going to happen. She was going to have sex with me one way or the other. That wasn’t the choice. The only choice was, she knows the words in my head. She could take control of my body, lock up my mind, make me a prisoner in my own skull again. Or I could consent, and at least I could stay… me. So I did that. I did what she wanted.”
“Oh, Marshal…” Jameson’s heart broke for his friend. For yet another horror that had been forced on Marshal. He kept his arm around him reassuringly. “That isn’t consent. That’s abuse. Ginny treated those control words like a gun she could hold to your head - and this is no different. This wasn’t your fault. It was hers. And it’s all the more reason you had to defend yourself from her.”
“Well,” Marshal said, his thoughts spinning in a whirlwind. “It doesn’t matter for right now, though, does it? Not after I… you know… killed her. If I try to tell anyone now, they’ll just think I made it up to get myself out of trouble.”
Jameson nodded. “Yeah. They might not believe you. But they’ll believe me.”
“You…?”
“Yeah. She coerced me too, when I was her patient. At the time, I blamed myself. And then later… well, my image managers would never let me talk about it. They said it would make people question whether I was really a hero. But now it’s my choice, not theirs.”
“Jameson. I don’t think anyone could possibly question that you’re a hero. But are you sure you want to do this? It means telling something incredibly personal. And Maureen, what will she say…?”
“Oh, Maureen already knows. She’s the only one I’ve told. And now you.”
Marshal was startled. He hadn’t expected a healthy, loving relationship was still on the table after a tangle with Ginny. Not after the truth was told. Well, good for Jameson.
“Are you… really sure you want to tell everyone, though? You don’t have to. Not because of me.”
“I’m sure. It’s time. And who knows? Maybe you aren’t the only person it’ll help. Maybe there are other people out there who need to hear that a superhero went through it too.”
“Yeah,” Marshal replied thoughtfully. “Yeah, I bet they will.”
“Do me a favor, alright buddy? If anything like this ever happens again, please tell me, okay? You should only be having the sex you want to have. If anyone tries to make you, tell me, and I'll help you make it stop. I promise.”
“Okay. I will. Hey Jameson, do you still…? You know. The thing you said before. After all of this. Do you…? Do you still…?”
“Do I still love you?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes. I do. That doesn't change. Family is for life.”
“Good. I'm glad. That's good. I… I'm not used to saying this. But I… uh, I…”
“Love me too?”
“Yeah.”
Jameson grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “Good. I'm glad too.”
***
Everything was going to start happening fast soon. The therapist. The lawyer. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. - and there would be no more waiting, no more suspense about what was going to happen.
Jameson pulled Maureen aside just before they left.
“If things go badly,” Jameson said quietly. “You know I can’t just leave him. I can’t let him rot in prison…”
Maureen nodded. “I know. I get it. If things go badly, you’re going to take Marshal and run. If that’s what happens, contact me when you can, when you’re somewhere safe, and I’ll come to you. Tell Marshal I’ll bring Fievel with me; otherwise he’d try to come back for him.”
Jameson met her gaze, his eyes full of intensity. “Are you sure? I know this is a lot. I’m asking a lot…”
“I’m sure. I’m not leaving him either. One way or another, we’ll keep him safe.”
***
Marshal sat down across the table from Dr. Laurel. He smiled, but there was a nervous tension in his eyes and mouth. Jameson smiled back at him for reassurance, then slipped in his earbuds so Marshal could talk to the doctor without being overheard. After they had talked for awhile, Dr. Laurel indicated they were done and motioned Jameson aside.
“Marshal gave me permission to talk to you about our session,” the doctor told him. “So here goes. That diagnosis from his previous provider is frankly nonsense. He meets literally none of the diagnostic criteria. Marshal has a high degree of empathy, and feels deep connections with other people. I’m changing the diagnosis to Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and I think he’ll finally start making some therapeutic progress now. That should scare your S.H.I.E.L.D. agents a lot less, too. Marshal is living with you and Maureen, right?”
“Well, we’re living with him, it’s his house - but yes.”
“Good. He’s very attached to you, you know? He admires you a great deal.”
“Both those things are mutual.”
“And you’re planning to be involved with him long term?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Good. I’m glad. I’m not at all concerned about any violence on Marshal’s part, but he’s incredibly vulnerable to exploitation right now. My only fear for him would be leaving him on his own - he needs support. Someone making sure he isn’t taken advantage of. And he’ll get that from you. Well, then, I think that’s it for today,” Dr. Laurel concluded. “Marshal has expressed a willingness to continue treatment, so we can continue addressing his trauma and figure out his medication - Dr. Thornton left that a mess, too. I’m very comfortable making a recommendation to S.H.I.E.L.D., as things stand. I see no indication Marshal is a danger to anyone. I believe that he’s telling the truth about what happened with Dr. Thornton. He wouldn’t benefit from being locked away. In my opinion, he should stay with you and Maureen, and I’m happy to tell them so.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very, very much.”
***
They were as ready as they were going to be. They had all the evidence that could be gathered. Now all they had to do was present it, and clear Marshal’s name.
The final step had been to secure the help of a lawyer - and Jameson silently gave thanks that the child Marshal had saved so happened to be a lawyer’s son, because that made it very easy to gain the agreement of a very willing attorney.
Jameson wore the Mr. Stalwart uniform - it made for better optics, for Marshal to walk in with a visible superhero by his side. And by his side was definitely where Jameson intended to be.
It was time to go to S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Oh, Cait..." Marshal said softly. "You aren't dumping on me. Never. I'm glad you felt like you could talk to me about this. I see you. I'm sorry that the others sometimes don't. You deserve to be seen."
He was fully aware just how lucky he was. She didn't hate him. She didn't think he was a creep. He bundled up the shame and guilt about the things had felt for her, and added it to the pile of shame and guilt that he had to tuck away so he could function. But this newest burden was just for a little while, he reminded himself. Surely this one would fade. Before long, he would no longer see her old face and form when he thought of her. His body would forget the sensation of her holding him. He would lose the reflex to act the way he used to around her. She would become just the kid next door, as she should be.
He could be there for her, though. He could help protect her, make this unexpected second childhood as easy and happy as it could possibly be. There wasn't romance in his future - not with her, or with anyone else. He saw that now. It was too late for that, too many opportunities had been missed, there were too many things he couldn't possibly hope to make another person understand, his mind was too warped and twisted. But that was okay. He had everything he truly needed, for whatever time it turned out he had left.
"I'm here any time. Whatever you need. Just say the word."
He could be a good friend to her. He was sure of that. And he would be, and the guilt would ease… or else he would just learn to live with it. He was good at that too.
Jameson poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt," he said. “But we'll need to go soon. It’s almost time for your appointment with Dr. Laurel.”
“Okay,” Marshal said. “I’m ready. You’re going to stay, like you said, right? And make sure she doesn’t…?”
“I will. I promise. Hey, Cait, could you do me a favor and destroy this document? Like really destroy it - I don't want someone fishing it out of the trash. Thank you."
Jameson handed Cait the transcript of the session where Ginny had used Marshal's activation code. They couldn't risk that falling into the wrong hands, and Jameson was confident that he could trust Cait to get the job done. She didn't want to see Marshal used like that again any more than he did.
***
It hadn’t escaped the superhero’s notice how worried Marshal was about the therapist touching him - despite physical contact being something he was apparently otherwise amenable to. When he could do so discreetly, he said, “Marshal, I’ve got to ask… did Ginny ever make you do things you didn’t want to do? I know about the brain stuff. But I mean… sexual things? Without your consent?”
Marshal looked away. His hands clenched. His heart raced and his breathing got shallow. He felt her fingers tracing down his chest again and he shuddered… and shook his head. “No. I did stuff with Ginny, yeah. But it was consensual.”
“Are you sure?” Jameson probed gently. “I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t seem very happy about it.”
“Of course I’m sure. I mean, look at me. I’m a super soldier, right? She was just a regular person. What was she going to do, hold me down and have her way with me?” Marshal tried to force a laugh, but it came out sounding choked.
Jameson shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be physical, Marshal. She was your therapist. There was a power dynamic there. She had a lot of sway over you.”
Marshal shook his head. “No. It was just me. I made a stupid choice. I was confused. I was lonely. I was sad. It was just a fling. I just wanted something physical…” The contradictory lies poured out, and even Marshal could tell none of what he was saying made sense. He tried to stop the flow of words, the torrent of excuses - but then Jameson’s arm was around him, and Jameson was rubbing his back, and somehow the truth he had determined to keep buried deep inside forever was spilling out of his mouth. “You have to understand, Jameson. You have to understand. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. When I was with HYDRA. It was mostly just violence, the constant violence, but sometimes, every once in a while… well. It’s not like it didn’t ever occur to anyone what else you can do with a soldier who can’t refuse your orders. People did things to me sometimes. And then Ginny…”
Jameson said nothing, didn’t interrupt, just kept rubbing his back.
Marshal took a deep breath. “Look, it was going to happen. She was going to have sex with me one way or the other. That wasn’t the choice. The only choice was, she knows the words in my head. She could take control of my body, lock up my mind, make me a prisoner in my own skull again. Or I could consent, and at least I could stay… me. So I did that. I did what she wanted.”
“Oh, Marshal…” Jameson’s heart broke for his friend. For yet another horror that had been forced on Marshal. He kept his arm around him reassuringly. “That isn’t consent. That’s abuse. Ginny treated those control words like a gun she could hold to your head - and this is no different. This wasn’t your fault. It was hers. And it’s all the more reason you had to defend yourself from her.”
“Well,” Marshal said, his thoughts spinning in a whirlwind. “It doesn’t matter for right now, though, does it? Not after I… you know… killed her. If I try to tell anyone now, they’ll just think I made it up to get myself out of trouble.”
Jameson nodded. “Yeah. They might not believe you. But they’ll believe me.”
“You…?”
“Yeah. She coerced me too, when I was her patient. At the time, I blamed myself. And then later… well, my image managers would never let me talk about it. They said it would make people question whether I was really a hero. But now it’s my choice, not theirs.”
“Jameson. I don’t think anyone could possibly question that you’re a hero. But are you sure you want to do this? It means telling something incredibly personal. And Maureen, what will she say…?”
“Oh, Maureen already knows. She’s the only one I’ve told. And now you.”
Marshal was startled. He hadn’t expected a healthy, loving relationship was still on the table after a tangle with Ginny. Not after the truth was told. Well, good for Jameson.
“Are you… really sure you want to tell everyone, though? You don’t have to. Not because of me.”
“I’m sure. It’s time. And who knows? Maybe you aren’t the only person it’ll help. Maybe there are other people out there who need to hear that a superhero went through it too.”
“Yeah,” Marshal replied thoughtfully. “Yeah, I bet they will.”
“Do me a favor, alright buddy? If anything like this ever happens again, please tell me, okay? You should only be having the sex you want to have. If anyone tries to make you, tell me, and I'll help you make it stop. I promise.”
“Okay. I will. Hey Jameson, do you still…? You know. The thing you said before. After all of this. Do you…? Do you still…?”
“Do I still love you?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes. I do. That doesn't change. Family is for life.”
“Good. I'm glad. That's good. I… I'm not used to saying this. But I… uh, I…”
“Love me too?”
“Yeah.”
Jameson grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “Good. I'm glad too.”
***
Everything was going to start happening fast soon. The therapist. The lawyer. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. - and there would be no more waiting, no more suspense about what was going to happen.
Jameson pulled Maureen aside just before they left.
“If things go badly,” Jameson said quietly. “You know I can’t just leave him. I can’t let him rot in prison…”
Maureen nodded. “I know. I get it. If things go badly, you’re going to take Marshal and run. If that’s what happens, contact me when you can, when you’re somewhere safe, and I’ll come to you. Tell Marshal I’ll bring Fievel with me; otherwise he’d try to come back for him.”
Jameson met her gaze, his eyes full of intensity. “Are you sure? I know this is a lot. I’m asking a lot…”
“I’m sure. I’m not leaving him either. One way or another, we’ll keep him safe.”
***
Marshal sat down across the table from Dr. Laurel. He smiled, but there was a nervous tension in his eyes and mouth. Jameson smiled back at him for reassurance, then slipped in his earbuds so Marshal could talk to the doctor without being overheard. After they had talked for awhile, Dr. Laurel indicated they were done and motioned Jameson aside.
“Marshal gave me permission to talk to you about our session,” the doctor told him. “So here goes. That diagnosis from his previous provider is frankly nonsense. He meets literally none of the diagnostic criteria. Marshal has a high degree of empathy, and feels deep connections with other people. I’m changing the diagnosis to Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and I think he’ll finally start making some therapeutic progress now. That should scare your S.H.I.E.L.D. agents a lot less, too. Marshal is living with you and Maureen, right?”
“Well, we’re living with him, it’s his house - but yes.”
“Good. He’s very attached to you, you know? He admires you a great deal.”
“Both those things are mutual.”
“And you’re planning to be involved with him long term?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Good. I’m glad. I’m not at all concerned about any violence on Marshal’s part, but he’s incredibly vulnerable to exploitation right now. My only fear for him would be leaving him on his own - he needs support. Someone making sure he isn’t taken advantage of. And he’ll get that from you. Well, then, I think that’s it for today,” Dr. Laurel concluded. “Marshal has expressed a willingness to continue treatment, so we can continue addressing his trauma and figure out his medication - Dr. Thornton left that a mess, too. I’m very comfortable making a recommendation to S.H.I.E.L.D., as things stand. I see no indication Marshal is a danger to anyone. I believe that he’s telling the truth about what happened with Dr. Thornton. He wouldn’t benefit from being locked away. In my opinion, he should stay with you and Maureen, and I’m happy to tell them so.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very, very much.”
***
They were as ready as they were going to be. They had all the evidence that could be gathered. Now all they had to do was present it, and clear Marshal’s name.
The final step had been to secure the help of a lawyer - and Jameson silently gave thanks that the child Marshal had saved so happened to be a lawyer’s son, because that made it very easy to gain the agreement of a very willing attorney.
Jameson wore the Mr. Stalwart uniform - it made for better optics, for Marshal to walk in with a visible superhero by his side. And by his side was definitely where Jameson intended to be.
It was time to go to S.H.I.E.L.D.
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 769
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Agent Phil Coulson (And Others)
“This isn’t a trial.”
He’d said that several times, trying to ease the tension - but it sure felt like one. Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, and a handful of other S.H.I.E.L.D. higher-ups sat facing Marshal Knox, his attorney, and Mr. Stalwart - the latter of whom was not officially required to be here, but seemed to have appointed himself as Knox’s protector.
Coulson didn’t know Marshal Knox well. They’d crossed paths a few times, but that was about it. Knox’s demeanor at the meeting was about what Coulson was used to - he was quiet, often stared off into space, didn’t speak unless prompted by his attorney, and then usually gave only the briefest response required. Coulson had always read it as detachment… but now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t help but notice that no matter what position Knox was slumped in his chair, his shoulder was always carefully touching Mr. Stalwart - and Stalwart, for his part, despite his own posture being more attentive and alert, was equally carefully always within reach. Coulson started to suspect that what he had clocked as indifference was actually intense anxiety.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. panel listened to all the evidence, let the attorney make his statements, flipped through the documentation - both the files from the doctor’s office, and the written statements by the interested parties Stalwart had finagled onto Marshal’s side. They paid careful attention as Knox spoke for himself. For the most part, Knox was calm and direct, devoid of visible emotion - except during one single moment, when he described being ordered to harm his friend Maureen. As he described that part, his voice shook and he twisted his hands together.
Interesting, Coulson thought.
Finally, it was over. Everything had been said and done. Coulson turned to Maria Hill and raised an eyebrow. She nodded. Coulson turned back to Knox and his lawyer.
“Thank you,” Coulson told them. “We’re ready to make a decision, and I think it’s a pretty clear one. Mr. Knox was protecting himself from Dr. Thornton. He has the right to self-defense, as anyone does. I’m only sorry that it was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own that you had to defend yourself from, sir. You’ll be free to go after this hearing concludes.”
Knox sagged with relief. His lawyer patted his shoulder reassuringly. Stalwart squeezed his hand.
“There’s just one other thing,” Coulson said. “And I hate to even bring it up under the circumstances. But your previous release involved some conditions. You’ve already agreed to continue therapy, so we’re all set there. You’re also required to have a S.H.I.E.L.D.-approved guardian, though. Someone to be responsible for you as long as you continue to be controllable through your HYDRA conditioning. In the past it was Dr. Thornton - and while I think it’s pretty clear now why that was wildly inappropriate, we still need to name someone in her place.”
Knox nodded. His voice sounded dry, still shaky with relief. “I’m okay with that,” he said. “As long as it’s Jameson - I mean, Mr. Stalwart. I trust him. He’ll do the right thing for me.”
Coulson nodded. “Excellent. Assuming, of course, that you’re willing to take that responsibility?”
Stalwart nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“Great,” Coulson said. “Then Mr. Knox, you’re officially free to go.”
***
Back at the dog rescue, Maureen was trying to keep her routine as normal as possible. To focus on work, and not obsessively fret about what was happening at S.H.I.E.L.D. - and for the most part, she did a good job, except that every time her phone made the slightest sound, she would immediately startle and reach to check it.
Finally, the message she’d been waiting for came. She stared at the text until she could blink away the tears that were threatening, then called out, “Cait! It’s from Jameson. It’s good news. They believed Marshal. They let him go. They’re headed home.”
***
As they were leaving the not-a-courtroom after the not-a-trial, there was a flurry of thanks to everyone who had helped Marshal through it. Marshal thanked his lawyer… as did Agent Coulson, who then handed him a discreet N.D.A.
Gradually, people drifted away, and it was just Marshal and Jameson out in the hall.
Marshal drew in his breath in a trembling gasp. “Thank you, Jameson. I can never… I can never thank you enough. Everything you did. You saved my life. I’m not good at speaking for myself. I wouldn’t have known how to make them understand. I would have spent the rest of my life staring at the walls of a cell. I know that. But because of you… thank you. I owe you everything. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Jameson said with a smile. “Any time. I’ve got you.”
Marshal blinked at him. “Simple as that?”
“Yep. Simple as that: Any time. I’ve got you.”
“This isn’t a trial.”
He’d said that several times, trying to ease the tension - but it sure felt like one. Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, and a handful of other S.H.I.E.L.D. higher-ups sat facing Marshal Knox, his attorney, and Mr. Stalwart - the latter of whom was not officially required to be here, but seemed to have appointed himself as Knox’s protector.
Coulson didn’t know Marshal Knox well. They’d crossed paths a few times, but that was about it. Knox’s demeanor at the meeting was about what Coulson was used to - he was quiet, often stared off into space, didn’t speak unless prompted by his attorney, and then usually gave only the briefest response required. Coulson had always read it as detachment… but now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t help but notice that no matter what position Knox was slumped in his chair, his shoulder was always carefully touching Mr. Stalwart - and Stalwart, for his part, despite his own posture being more attentive and alert, was equally carefully always within reach. Coulson started to suspect that what he had clocked as indifference was actually intense anxiety.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. panel listened to all the evidence, let the attorney make his statements, flipped through the documentation - both the files from the doctor’s office, and the written statements by the interested parties Stalwart had finagled onto Marshal’s side. They paid careful attention as Knox spoke for himself. For the most part, Knox was calm and direct, devoid of visible emotion - except during one single moment, when he described being ordered to harm his friend Maureen. As he described that part, his voice shook and he twisted his hands together.
Interesting, Coulson thought.
Finally, it was over. Everything had been said and done. Coulson turned to Maria Hill and raised an eyebrow. She nodded. Coulson turned back to Knox and his lawyer.
“Thank you,” Coulson told them. “We’re ready to make a decision, and I think it’s a pretty clear one. Mr. Knox was protecting himself from Dr. Thornton. He has the right to self-defense, as anyone does. I’m only sorry that it was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own that you had to defend yourself from, sir. You’ll be free to go after this hearing concludes.”
Knox sagged with relief. His lawyer patted his shoulder reassuringly. Stalwart squeezed his hand.
“There’s just one other thing,” Coulson said. “And I hate to even bring it up under the circumstances. But your previous release involved some conditions. You’ve already agreed to continue therapy, so we’re all set there. You’re also required to have a S.H.I.E.L.D.-approved guardian, though. Someone to be responsible for you as long as you continue to be controllable through your HYDRA conditioning. In the past it was Dr. Thornton - and while I think it’s pretty clear now why that was wildly inappropriate, we still need to name someone in her place.”
Knox nodded. His voice sounded dry, still shaky with relief. “I’m okay with that,” he said. “As long as it’s Jameson - I mean, Mr. Stalwart. I trust him. He’ll do the right thing for me.”
Coulson nodded. “Excellent. Assuming, of course, that you’re willing to take that responsibility?”
Stalwart nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“Great,” Coulson said. “Then Mr. Knox, you’re officially free to go.”
***
Back at the dog rescue, Maureen was trying to keep her routine as normal as possible. To focus on work, and not obsessively fret about what was happening at S.H.I.E.L.D. - and for the most part, she did a good job, except that every time her phone made the slightest sound, she would immediately startle and reach to check it.
Finally, the message she’d been waiting for came. She stared at the text until she could blink away the tears that were threatening, then called out, “Cait! It’s from Jameson. It’s good news. They believed Marshal. They let him go. They’re headed home.”
***
As they were leaving the not-a-courtroom after the not-a-trial, there was a flurry of thanks to everyone who had helped Marshal through it. Marshal thanked his lawyer… as did Agent Coulson, who then handed him a discreet N.D.A.
Gradually, people drifted away, and it was just Marshal and Jameson out in the hall.
Marshal drew in his breath in a trembling gasp. “Thank you, Jameson. I can never… I can never thank you enough. Everything you did. You saved my life. I’m not good at speaking for myself. I wouldn’t have known how to make them understand. I would have spent the rest of my life staring at the walls of a cell. I know that. But because of you… thank you. I owe you everything. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Jameson said with a smile. “Any time. I’ve got you.”
Marshal blinked at him. “Simple as that?”
“Yep. Simple as that: Any time. I’ve got you.”
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 769
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Imiel
Imiel smiled back at Rhiannon. He didn't find her conceited. Quite the opposite; her lack of false modesty was refreshing. Why shouldn't a woman take credit for her own talents?
"Well," he said. "I guess I'll just have to continue giving you compliments, then."
A deliberate flirtation, this time - if quite a light and tame one. He didn't anticipate that she would take it seriously. She was still a queen, and he was still... what? Just an alien who couldn't even show his real face on this planet. No, she would just be flattered, maybe laugh about it with Cait later - if the two of them laughed about that sort of thing.
But that was fine. He'd just wanted a moment of normality, that was all. Imiel's whole life revolved around his daughters - which was great. Which was as it should be. Sometimes you just craved a moment with another adult, though. A moment to release tension and just flirt with a pretty lady.
He'd tried dating a handful of times since coming to Earth. S.H.I.E.L.D.-approved fellow weirdos, of course. He couldn't exactly drag a normie civilian into this kind of life. Even so, it hadn't gone well. They hadn't understood after all. They'd pointed out - perhaps rightly - that he had created his own problems. That it was madness for a Skrull to deliberately provoke the Kree Empire by taking two Kree children. They had questioned why he couldn't just walk away.
Imiel couldn't just walk away, though. He couldn't. It wasn't in his nature. He couldn't leave his daughters behind.
So he had just given up on the whole idea of dating. It had been awhile since he had even flirted. It felt... nice.
He didn't get a chance to see her reaction, though, because Charis fell, and suddenly there was a flurry of activity. Imiel was worried about Charis, but the primary thing he could do for her was to distract Annie and keep her out of Rhiannon's way while she helped her daughter.
"White eyes," Annie said, her little face drawn with worry.
Imiel didn't fully understand the comment. Charis's eyes must have rolled back when she had her - seizure? or whatever it was? - he supposed. "It's going to be okay," he assured Annie, shifting one hand off a stroller handle to wrap his arm around her.
Imiel smiled back at Rhiannon. He didn't find her conceited. Quite the opposite; her lack of false modesty was refreshing. Why shouldn't a woman take credit for her own talents?
"Well," he said. "I guess I'll just have to continue giving you compliments, then."
A deliberate flirtation, this time - if quite a light and tame one. He didn't anticipate that she would take it seriously. She was still a queen, and he was still... what? Just an alien who couldn't even show his real face on this planet. No, she would just be flattered, maybe laugh about it with Cait later - if the two of them laughed about that sort of thing.
But that was fine. He'd just wanted a moment of normality, that was all. Imiel's whole life revolved around his daughters - which was great. Which was as it should be. Sometimes you just craved a moment with another adult, though. A moment to release tension and just flirt with a pretty lady.
He'd tried dating a handful of times since coming to Earth. S.H.I.E.L.D.-approved fellow weirdos, of course. He couldn't exactly drag a normie civilian into this kind of life. Even so, it hadn't gone well. They hadn't understood after all. They'd pointed out - perhaps rightly - that he had created his own problems. That it was madness for a Skrull to deliberately provoke the Kree Empire by taking two Kree children. They had questioned why he couldn't just walk away.
Imiel couldn't just walk away, though. He couldn't. It wasn't in his nature. He couldn't leave his daughters behind.
So he had just given up on the whole idea of dating. It had been awhile since he had even flirted. It felt... nice.
He didn't get a chance to see her reaction, though, because Charis fell, and suddenly there was a flurry of activity. Imiel was worried about Charis, but the primary thing he could do for her was to distract Annie and keep her out of Rhiannon's way while she helped her daughter.
"White eyes," Annie said, her little face drawn with worry.
Imiel didn't fully understand the comment. Charis's eyes must have rolled back when she had her - seizure? or whatever it was? - he supposed. "It's going to be okay," he assured Annie, shifting one hand off a stroller handle to wrap his arm around her.
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 769
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Thompson's Man
The soldier was as startled as anyone else when the girl fell.
I didn't hurt her! he told himself. I didn't even touch her. At least... I don't think I did.
But it was hard to tell. His memory was so bad. So patchy. He often lost chunks of time. Maybe he had done this after all.
Regardless, it definitely hadn't worked to his advantage in terms of the mission. The girl had attracted a lot of attention - and not the kind that made for a good distraction, but rather the kind that put a lot of focus on the group. Nor had the male companion let his guard down; he was still holding onto the stroller, even as he comforted the little girl.
There was no obvious way to use this to get closer to the sword.
While he was internally debating, Thompson stalked into the gallery.
The soldier's heart sank. He wasn't allowed to run away. So it was too late to evade.
Thompson grabbed him roughly by the arm, and led him away. When they were alone behind a display case, the soldier looked down at the red stain now spreading along the wrist of his hoodie. Thompson's thumb had pressed down on a freshly carved rune, making it bleed through the layers of garments. The soldier watched absently as the crimson stained the grey fabric...
"Look at me!" Thompson demanded in an angry whisper.
The soldier reluctantly looked up.
"We're leaving," Thompson told him.
"I didn't complete the mission."
"You botched the mission. I don't think you could have called more attention to yourself if you had tried. We'll regroup, and then you'll try again."
The soldier's gaze had wandered again, drifting toward the watercolor room...
Thompson grabbed him by the chin and forced him to make eye contact again. No more paintings, Thompson thought to himself. They were on dangerous ground. "We're leaving. Now. That's an order. You can try again after we do a little maintenance on your conditioning... and we teach you a little respect."
The soldier knew that code. It meant cut the runes again, followed by a beating. I just have to remember. I was a painter. Remember. I was a painter.
He followed Thompson mutely toward the exit.
Thompson noticed the other child - the one who was supposed to be blind - staring in their direction, seemingly at his asset.
"Creepy kid," the mage muttered under his breath.
The soldier didn't respond.
The soldier was as startled as anyone else when the girl fell.
I didn't hurt her! he told himself. I didn't even touch her. At least... I don't think I did.
But it was hard to tell. His memory was so bad. So patchy. He often lost chunks of time. Maybe he had done this after all.
Regardless, it definitely hadn't worked to his advantage in terms of the mission. The girl had attracted a lot of attention - and not the kind that made for a good distraction, but rather the kind that put a lot of focus on the group. Nor had the male companion let his guard down; he was still holding onto the stroller, even as he comforted the little girl.
There was no obvious way to use this to get closer to the sword.
While he was internally debating, Thompson stalked into the gallery.
The soldier's heart sank. He wasn't allowed to run away. So it was too late to evade.
Thompson grabbed him roughly by the arm, and led him away. When they were alone behind a display case, the soldier looked down at the red stain now spreading along the wrist of his hoodie. Thompson's thumb had pressed down on a freshly carved rune, making it bleed through the layers of garments. The soldier watched absently as the crimson stained the grey fabric...
"Look at me!" Thompson demanded in an angry whisper.
The soldier reluctantly looked up.
"We're leaving," Thompson told him.
"I didn't complete the mission."
"You botched the mission. I don't think you could have called more attention to yourself if you had tried. We'll regroup, and then you'll try again."
The soldier's gaze had wandered again, drifting toward the watercolor room...
Thompson grabbed him by the chin and forced him to make eye contact again. No more paintings, Thompson thought to himself. They were on dangerous ground. "We're leaving. Now. That's an order. You can try again after we do a little maintenance on your conditioning... and we teach you a little respect."
The soldier knew that code. It meant cut the runes again, followed by a beating. I just have to remember. I was a painter. Remember. I was a painter.
He followed Thompson mutely toward the exit.
Thompson noticed the other child - the one who was supposed to be blind - staring in their direction, seemingly at his asset.
"Creepy kid," the mage muttered under his breath.
The soldier didn't respond.
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 769
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
At the S.H.I.E.L.D. Base
An argument had broken out at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility after Marshal's hearing - a rather loud, but entirely one-sided one. The Hammer of Justice himself, a.k.a. Kyle Richmond, was firing a profanity-laced tirade at Phil Coulson.
"...And then you just... let him go? You let him get away with murder? Again?"
"It wasn't murder, Kyle," Coulson replied calmly. "It was self-defense."
"He's HYDRA!"
"Was. And not willingly, either."
"That asshole should have been put in the ground when S.H.I.E.L.D. found him, not coddled and therapized. Yeah, you heard me. I said what I said. The next best thing would have been to put him behind bars for life. But S.H.I.E.L.D. was too weak to manage that either."
"You're out of line, Kyle."
"No, I'm just telling the truth. Someone around here has to. You know who's out of line, though? Stalwart. For a guy who's supposedly a superhero, he's awfully in love with HYDRA assets--"
"Kyle, trust me - you have no idea what's going on here. Drop it. We're done. Oh, and Kyle? Don't even think about pestering Mr. Knox. Stay away from him. That's an order."
"I don't take orders from you, Coulson."
"You will in this case if you want to have any future with this organization. Good day, Kyle."
An argument had broken out at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility after Marshal's hearing - a rather loud, but entirely one-sided one. The Hammer of Justice himself, a.k.a. Kyle Richmond, was firing a profanity-laced tirade at Phil Coulson.
"...And then you just... let him go? You let him get away with murder? Again?"
"It wasn't murder, Kyle," Coulson replied calmly. "It was self-defense."
"He's HYDRA!"
"Was. And not willingly, either."
"That asshole should have been put in the ground when S.H.I.E.L.D. found him, not coddled and therapized. Yeah, you heard me. I said what I said. The next best thing would have been to put him behind bars for life. But S.H.I.E.L.D. was too weak to manage that either."
"You're out of line, Kyle."
"No, I'm just telling the truth. Someone around here has to. You know who's out of line, though? Stalwart. For a guy who's supposedly a superhero, he's awfully in love with HYDRA assets--"
"Kyle, trust me - you have no idea what's going on here. Drop it. We're done. Oh, and Kyle? Don't even think about pestering Mr. Knox. Stay away from him. That's an order."
"I don't take orders from you, Coulson."
"You will in this case if you want to have any future with this organization. Good day, Kyle."