Thompson's (Former?) Man
The soldier woke up, and started to panic. He was in a hospital bed. There was an IV in his arm. What were they doing to him? But he read the words on the bags. Saline. An antibiotic. Well, that was probably okay.
He was wearing a hospital gown. His arms and torso were bandaged. His wrists were not restrained. That puzzled him - didn’t they know what he was, what he was capable of?
It didn’t occur to him that it was connected to his wounded arms. That they didn’t want to cause him pain.
Why had they let him live?
What was going to happen to him now?
He was too exhausted to be afraid. But he hurt a lot less. Why didn’t he hurt? It had been so long since he’d had any relief.
The soldier remembered the way they had handled him, the superhero and the other one. There was a word for it. A word he used to know. A word he couldn’t quite remember. Then it came back to him.
Gentle.
They had been gentle. It was so long since anyone had been gentle with him that he had forgotten what it meant.
There were other forgotten words they had reminded him of, too.
Comfort.
They had comforted him.
Reassurance.
They had reassured him. Their enemy. They had told him that everything was going to be okay. They had promised to spare his life. He hadn’t believed them. But he was demonstrably still alive.
When the superhero came to check on him, he laid something on the tray beside the soldier's bed. A scrap of paper. “I found this. I thought it might be important.”
The soldier nodded, snatched it back before the superhero could change his mind, and stared at the tiny paintings on the advertising flier for a long time.
The superhero watched for a little while, seemed to decide something, and left.
***
“I brought you something,” Jameson said. He reached into the bag, and pulled out a coffee table book. The Works of the French Impressionists. “I thought you might like it.”
The soldier regarded the book with wide eyes for a moment, then nodded, carefully took it in both hands, and disappeared into the corner of the room with it, crouching with his back to the wall as he slowly poured over each page. Once it became clear he wasn’t going to be doing anything else for awhile, Jameson left him alone.
He returned a few hours later, and nothing seemed to have changed except turning pages.
Jameson was about to leave again, but the soldier met his eyes for the first time since waking up, and spoke hesitantly. “I… I think my name was Aidan.”
Jameson smiled. “Thank you for telling me. Nice to meet you, Aidan.”
As he left the room, he stopped one of the nurses on her way in. “Hey, just wanted to let you know - he told me his name is Aidan. Can we make sure we’re all calling him that? I think it’ll help.”
***
“Who sent you here, Aidan?” Marshal asked.
“Can’t say. Revealing that information is outside mission parameters.”
“Okay. What is the mission?”
Aidan just stared at him, the wheels in his brain turning.
“Maybe I can help you with it, if you tell me. We could just get it over with, and then you’d be done.”
Aidan weighed this. Finally, he said, “The sword. I have to get Excalibur from the McIvor girl.”
I am the luckiest bastard in the world, Marshal thought. Okay, this one’s a freebie.
Marshal kept his expression neutral. “Okay. Well, it so happens I know where Excalibur is.”
“Where?”
“I’m not going to tell you. You could try to beat it out of me, but it’s probably not going to work. I was tortured for years, so my pain tolerance is pretty high. If I were you, I would just follow me around for awhile. I’ll probably slip up eventually. That’s really your best option.”
“Are you trying to keep me here?”
“Well, I certainly don’t think returning to whoever sent you would be a good idea. As soon as you let me out of your sight, I would probably move the sword and make it even harder for you to find. You’d really better stick around if you’re serious about finding it.”
“Marshal?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. A couple of pieces of free mission advice, too. I’m working on sleeping through the night, so there’s really no point in you trying to stay awake to watch me. You’ll be a lot stronger and more alert if you start getting a decent night’s sleep. Maybe hydrating too? And eating? For the sake of the mission.”
“For the sake of the mission,” Aidan agreed. There was a hint of an expression - maybe amusement? But there was also a hint of relief.
Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Marshal Knox
Marshal kind of lost track of time while they were at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. That tended to happen - the whole structure felt like a pleasantly furnished bunker, well-lit but with all the daylight artificial. It was hard to track how many hours were passing. He knew it was a long time, and they were all tired, but finally it was time to go home.
Aidan was with them. He was quiet, keeping his eyes on the ground but with occasional furtive glances around. The former captive didn't seem to be making any attempt to leave, though. That was good. Aidan's eyes widened when they showed him his room. He ran his hand along the bed, touched the dresser, then looked out the window for a few minutes. Finally, overcome by exhaustion, he curled up in the bed, pulled the covers over himself, and almost instantly fell asleep.
It occurred to Marshal that he should go fill Cait in on what had transpired during the night. It was a reasonable hour of the day, now. He could just drop by her house, couldn't he? That wasn't weird... was it? A person could just go talk to another person, couldn't they?
He couldn't think of any way it would be inappropriate - but he realized it might be intrusive. He'd been monopolizing so much of her time. She was probably rolling her eyes every time she heard his name, wishing the weird middle-aged man with too much time on his hands would just leave her alone so she could go make friends her own age.
That would be good. It's good to have friends.
He decided to leave the ball in her court. He sent another text: home now, can fill you in whenever you want
Marshal kind of lost track of time while they were at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. That tended to happen - the whole structure felt like a pleasantly furnished bunker, well-lit but with all the daylight artificial. It was hard to track how many hours were passing. He knew it was a long time, and they were all tired, but finally it was time to go home.
Aidan was with them. He was quiet, keeping his eyes on the ground but with occasional furtive glances around. The former captive didn't seem to be making any attempt to leave, though. That was good. Aidan's eyes widened when they showed him his room. He ran his hand along the bed, touched the dresser, then looked out the window for a few minutes. Finally, overcome by exhaustion, he curled up in the bed, pulled the covers over himself, and almost instantly fell asleep.
It occurred to Marshal that he should go fill Cait in on what had transpired during the night. It was a reasonable hour of the day, now. He could just drop by her house, couldn't he? That wasn't weird... was it? A person could just go talk to another person, couldn't they?
He couldn't think of any way it would be inappropriate - but he realized it might be intrusive. He'd been monopolizing so much of her time. She was probably rolling her eyes every time she heard his name, wishing the weird middle-aged man with too much time on his hands would just leave her alone so she could go make friends her own age.
That would be good. It's good to have friends.
He decided to leave the ball in her court. He sent another text: home now, can fill you in whenever you want
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Imiel
Imiel had lain awake for a long time. Despite the day not having gone how he had anticipated, he had enjoyed spending it with Rhiannon and the kids. Their next outing would surely go more smoothly. But sleep was still elusive.
In the darkness, he reached up a hand to touch his face. His actual face. His actual skin. Not the human facsimile.
That was the problem. That was why he couldn't sleep.
He wasn't really lying, he told himself. He had told her he was an alien; she hadn't asked how he really looked. But now he was lying to her and himself, because she had no reason to know she needed to ask that.
I'll tell her tomorrow.
But it was difficult. Sometimes he imagined that she was looking at him... in a certain way. And he liked that. And it would be all over once he told her.
Or maybe it wouldn't. Knowing that information didn't mean she would act on it. Maybe she wouldn't even ask to see his real face. Humans are uncomfortable with aliens - that was the reason for this whole charade, after all. She probably wouldn't even want to see.
Yet somehow, he couldn't shake his worry about it. Even after he finally dozed off, he slept fitfully, tossing and turning and dreaming about peeling off his human skin and casting it aside once and for all.
Imiel had lain awake for a long time. Despite the day not having gone how he had anticipated, he had enjoyed spending it with Rhiannon and the kids. Their next outing would surely go more smoothly. But sleep was still elusive.
In the darkness, he reached up a hand to touch his face. His actual face. His actual skin. Not the human facsimile.
That was the problem. That was why he couldn't sleep.
He wasn't really lying, he told himself. He had told her he was an alien; she hadn't asked how he really looked. But now he was lying to her and himself, because she had no reason to know she needed to ask that.
I'll tell her tomorrow.
But it was difficult. Sometimes he imagined that she was looking at him... in a certain way. And he liked that. And it would be all over once he told her.
Or maybe it wouldn't. Knowing that information didn't mean she would act on it. Maybe she wouldn't even ask to see his real face. Humans are uncomfortable with aliens - that was the reason for this whole charade, after all. She probably wouldn't even want to see.
Yet somehow, he couldn't shake his worry about it. Even after he finally dozed off, he slept fitfully, tossing and turning and dreaming about peeling off his human skin and casting it aside once and for all.
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Cait McIvor
Ewan had settled after she'd told him what the symbols were. Quite the new ability he had. She had suspected that the twins would inherit the meta gene - it seemed like something Fate would ensure happened. But of course Fate couldn't have known what the meta gene would bring...bloody lucky for them that the boy got such a useful gift.
So what nonsense was Charis stuck with. Because that was exactly what was 'wrong' with her niece. It had to be. But if Charis wasn't ready to talk, then she wasn't going to push. She remembered what it was like to get that kind of surprise. It was best to work some things out for yourself.
By the time Cait had finished with Ewan and staring at Charis' doorway debating with herself for much longer than she let herself know, Imiel had gone back to his home with his girls. Which meant that her sister should be slightly less distracted - and just about worried enough to agree with her on a thing or two. She slowly stepped down the stairs, not making noise, but making enough impact to let her sister know she was coming.
Rhiannon was sitting on the couch, cup of tea in her hands, staring out the front picture window. Her back was straight and her posture regal as always, except for her shoulders. They were just a little bit sagged. It was finally getting through to her. That this wasn't a vacation. There was no time out. Life was going to continue onward no matter what dimension they were in. She stood in the hall for a moment and leaned against the wall, watching her.
"There's no going back, is there." Rhiannon spoke into the empty space, her tone flat.
Cait took that as her invitation and she walked in, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of her sister and plopped herself down in it. She put her hands on the arms of the chair and sat up away from the back of the chair. It probably looked comical with her size versus the plump piece of furniture, but she hoped that her posture would communicate that she was serious.
"No."
She took a sip of her tea, which must have certainly been cold by now. Her face was stony, but Cait thought she saw a singular tear running down the exiled queen's cheek. "I don't know what to do." the woman finally whispered.
"The way I see it, there are two options. We hunker down and wait for SHIELD to figure out how to ship us back - or we carry on with living here instead."
Rhiannon barked out a laugh. "How does that solve anything? That's not the problem..."
"Except it is." Cait leaned forward, "It's the exact problem. Every moment we spend thinking someone else is going to step in and change our lives for us is a moment we waste. I think you need to think long and hard about what kind of future you want for your children - and for you."
"That simple."
"That simple. I think once you have both feet in the same dimension, things will fall into place."
Rhiannon finally looked at her. Really looked. Met her eyes, even. She smiled briefly - but more encouragingly, her shoulders were nice and square.
"So there's something I think that might help get us all settled in..."
~~~~~~
Cait had spent the rest of the night not sleeping. The yoga they'd done earlier had been a close call for her. Meditation was always dangerous for her. Quieting her mind gave space for the bean sidhe to step in. The memories from the people they took time from was one thing, but their chatter...quite another. But sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes, she checked in. She wasn't stupid enough to think they appreciated it, or that she was fooling them, but she did like to think it brought about a mutual understanding. They were both the losers in this particular deal and Cait wanted them to know that she remembered.
But it still wasn't pleasant.
They were still angry, and she could sympathize with that emotion. She hadn't much cared for how they were ripped out of her either. But that wasn't the only thing they were upset about. It was one thing to be imprisoned. They were used to that. But they were also used to having free rein when they were released. Freedom for a few short moments every century. But it was all they had to look forward to, really. And that they had their own way of doing things. That was really something she had to ensure she remembered - that they were professionals. They had their own methods.
Morgan le Fay was a common enemy now - at least in this dimension. She was certain if it had been their Morgan, the fae would not have been so upset. After all, they weren't big fans of King Arthur either. But this Morgan had taken advantage. Had used them like common tools. It was ignoble. Humiliating.
By the time dawn broke, they were all in agreement that Morgan le Fay had to pay.
~~~~~~
She'd had a quick catnap, rousing to the sound of a text coming in. Oh good, Marshal was back. Nice of him to message. She wasn't sure he was feeling toward her yet, not that she blamed him. Maybe it was having won a few battles the day before, but she felt pretty good about things working out.
yeah brt
Cait bounced out of bed, brushed her teeth, and slid down the banister to the first floor. She left without a verbal word, but she felt Rhiannon's pressing question and decided maybe she should keep things rolling in the relationship department.
"I'm going to Marshal's. Some guy was there yesterday and there was something about him that was off. Gonna get the whole story."
She jogged down the steps, looking up and down the street as she did so. No guy in a jeep. That was a good start. Cait needed to step up her own game and figure out who the players were in this world. And perhaps just as importantly figure out who she was going to be in this world. She took Marshal's front steps in one large jump and walked straight in the front door.
"Hey, glad you're back. How's Jameson's nose?" her own came up and she paused, giving Marshal a questioning look. "And how's the bleeding man? You're keeping him here...hoping to draw out Thompson?"
Ewan had settled after she'd told him what the symbols were. Quite the new ability he had. She had suspected that the twins would inherit the meta gene - it seemed like something Fate would ensure happened. But of course Fate couldn't have known what the meta gene would bring...bloody lucky for them that the boy got such a useful gift.
So what nonsense was Charis stuck with. Because that was exactly what was 'wrong' with her niece. It had to be. But if Charis wasn't ready to talk, then she wasn't going to push. She remembered what it was like to get that kind of surprise. It was best to work some things out for yourself.
By the time Cait had finished with Ewan and staring at Charis' doorway debating with herself for much longer than she let herself know, Imiel had gone back to his home with his girls. Which meant that her sister should be slightly less distracted - and just about worried enough to agree with her on a thing or two. She slowly stepped down the stairs, not making noise, but making enough impact to let her sister know she was coming.
Rhiannon was sitting on the couch, cup of tea in her hands, staring out the front picture window. Her back was straight and her posture regal as always, except for her shoulders. They were just a little bit sagged. It was finally getting through to her. That this wasn't a vacation. There was no time out. Life was going to continue onward no matter what dimension they were in. She stood in the hall for a moment and leaned against the wall, watching her.
"There's no going back, is there." Rhiannon spoke into the empty space, her tone flat.
Cait took that as her invitation and she walked in, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of her sister and plopped herself down in it. She put her hands on the arms of the chair and sat up away from the back of the chair. It probably looked comical with her size versus the plump piece of furniture, but she hoped that her posture would communicate that she was serious.
"No."
She took a sip of her tea, which must have certainly been cold by now. Her face was stony, but Cait thought she saw a singular tear running down the exiled queen's cheek. "I don't know what to do." the woman finally whispered.
"The way I see it, there are two options. We hunker down and wait for SHIELD to figure out how to ship us back - or we carry on with living here instead."
Rhiannon barked out a laugh. "How does that solve anything? That's not the problem..."
"Except it is." Cait leaned forward, "It's the exact problem. Every moment we spend thinking someone else is going to step in and change our lives for us is a moment we waste. I think you need to think long and hard about what kind of future you want for your children - and for you."
"That simple."
"That simple. I think once you have both feet in the same dimension, things will fall into place."
Rhiannon finally looked at her. Really looked. Met her eyes, even. She smiled briefly - but more encouragingly, her shoulders were nice and square.
"So there's something I think that might help get us all settled in..."
~~~~~~
Cait had spent the rest of the night not sleeping. The yoga they'd done earlier had been a close call for her. Meditation was always dangerous for her. Quieting her mind gave space for the bean sidhe to step in. The memories from the people they took time from was one thing, but their chatter...quite another. But sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes, she checked in. She wasn't stupid enough to think they appreciated it, or that she was fooling them, but she did like to think it brought about a mutual understanding. They were both the losers in this particular deal and Cait wanted them to know that she remembered.
But it still wasn't pleasant.
They were still angry, and she could sympathize with that emotion. She hadn't much cared for how they were ripped out of her either. But that wasn't the only thing they were upset about. It was one thing to be imprisoned. They were used to that. But they were also used to having free rein when they were released. Freedom for a few short moments every century. But it was all they had to look forward to, really. And that they had their own way of doing things. That was really something she had to ensure she remembered - that they were professionals. They had their own methods.
Morgan le Fay was a common enemy now - at least in this dimension. She was certain if it had been their Morgan, the fae would not have been so upset. After all, they weren't big fans of King Arthur either. But this Morgan had taken advantage. Had used them like common tools. It was ignoble. Humiliating.
By the time dawn broke, they were all in agreement that Morgan le Fay had to pay.
~~~~~~
She'd had a quick catnap, rousing to the sound of a text coming in. Oh good, Marshal was back. Nice of him to message. She wasn't sure he was feeling toward her yet, not that she blamed him. Maybe it was having won a few battles the day before, but she felt pretty good about things working out.
yeah brt
Cait bounced out of bed, brushed her teeth, and slid down the banister to the first floor. She left without a verbal word, but she felt Rhiannon's pressing question and decided maybe she should keep things rolling in the relationship department.
"I'm going to Marshal's. Some guy was there yesterday and there was something about him that was off. Gonna get the whole story."
She jogged down the steps, looking up and down the street as she did so. No guy in a jeep. That was a good start. Cait needed to step up her own game and figure out who the players were in this world. And perhaps just as importantly figure out who she was going to be in this world. She took Marshal's front steps in one large jump and walked straight in the front door.
"Hey, glad you're back. How's Jameson's nose?" her own came up and she paused, giving Marshal a questioning look. "And how's the bleeding man? You're keeping him here...hoping to draw out Thompson?"
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Marshal Knox
Marshal was tired.
When they got back from S.H.I.E.L.D., Aidan had fallen asleep pretty much right away, and Jameson had joined Maureen in their bedroom as soon as he was settled. Marshal knew he should be trying to sleep too. They'd essentially pulled an all-nighter. But he didn't want to rest, because he knew that when he did, the nightmares would start pouring back. Helping Aidan had been good. It had been right. But Marshal knew he was going to pay for it with dreams of his own torture, and he wasn't looking forward to that.
This was why it was hard to quit drinking. It wasn't hard when people were around - when he could talk to someone and distract himself, or get a hug and a comforting word. It was when he was alone in his room and everything started flooding back that things got tough. Up till recently, he would have just poured himself a generous volume of something potent and alcoholic and swallowed a handful of pills in the hope of knocking himself out dreamlessly for the next couple of hours.
He didn't want to do that anymore, though. So he made a pot of coffee, and hoped he could stay awake until the feelings faded. Until the sides of his vision stopped swimming and his skin stopped crawling. Until every other thought wasn't about HYDRA again.
Definitely time for a distraction. He packed for Wakanda, and that occupied him for awhile. Packing meant decisions. Since he wasn't sure how long he would be gone, how much clothing did he need? Surely there would be a place he could do laundry there. Should he pack a jacket? Would he have a need for swim trunks?
Eventually he ran out of such mundane questions, and shifted over to giving Fievel's increasingly elaborate habitat a thorough cleaning. He would need to get a petsitter while he was away. Maybe the McIvors could help him out with that. He was happy to financially compensate them for their troubles.
There was something else he had to do before he left. Something he couldn't leave unresolved. He couldn't just blissfully go demand his freedom without even trying to make amends for something he had done without even needing the corrupting influence of HYDRA. The thing that had made him realize he was plenty corrupt without any outside assistance. He sat down at the table to write.
Dear Cait,
I should have done this way before now, but I was having trouble figuring out how to say what I need to say.
I'm really sorry for how things started out between us. It was all my fault. You were just trying to be nice to me, but I made it weird and inappropriate and I don't know if there’s any coming back from that.
I never wanted to hurt you. I was abused in the past, and I never wanted to make anyone else feel the way I felt. I still hope you didn't feel exactly the same way, but I know I probably made you scared and uncomfortable. I'm so sorry. I should have had better boundaries. I would give a lot to just go back and undo it all. I know forgiveness is too much to ask, but I want to make sure you know I know how bad I messed up.
He crossed out the last sentence. It didn't sound right.
Why am I like this?
He wrote to himself, not to her. He crossed it out.
Why can't I just be good?
Crossed out.
No, this was wrong, the whole thing was wrong. He was talking too much about himself. That was the problem. That was what everybody said about apologies. Focus on your impact, not your intent. Don't make it all about you.
And he shouldn't mention the abuse. He was trying to apologize to a child, for goodness sake. You don't talk about things like that to them. Besides, he had probably deserved it. He had sent the wrong signals then, just like now. A guy who had messed with a child the second he got the opportunity? Why would he expect anyone to pay attention to his boundaries, if he wasn't going to respect anyone else's? He'd had it coming.
Just start the letter over.
The distraction was effective, at least, and he hadn't been paying attention to his phone, so when Cait showed up, he was startled and jumped, even though he had been the one to invite her.
"Hi Cait. Jameson's nose is pretty swollen, but he says it'll be okay. He's lucky he heals fast. The other guy is okay too. He told us his name is Aidan. He remembered that last night. He's sleeping upstairs."
Cait didn't seem scared of Aidan at all, which was good. That would have been a tough one to navigate if she had been.
"He's... yeah, I guess having him here would draw out Thompson. Yeah. It would. But that's... that's not why. He's in so much pain, Cait. Not just the physical stuff. That heals. But everything Thompson put him through. He's going to need support. He's going to need people who care. Someone who... I mean, it wasn't exactly the same, but I probably know as much as anybody about what it was like for him. We didn't want to just give him to S.H.I.E.L.D. and let them lock him up somewhere. He's going to need friends to help him move past this. Trust me on that one."
Marshal knew that for a fact. He himself had just kind of stalled out trying to get his life together on his own. It wasn't till he had people to help that he'd really started making progress. Now he wanted to do that for Aidan.
"It'll probably draw out Thompson too, though, and that's good. We're going to be leaving for Wakanda soon - very soon - and we're hoping Thompson will follow us and leave your family alone, especially if he thinks Aidan had reason to follow us instead. So I hope you won't have any problems while we're away."
He had to do this. He had to. He couldn't keep putting it off forever.
"Cait, before I go, I don't want to leave this unsaid. I owe you an apology. The way I treated you when we first met was totally inappropriate, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for any pain and discomfort I caused you. Adults should be safe people for kids, and I wasn't that for you. I can't undo that, but I'll be better going forward, I swear. And I just hope... look, you're going to meet people in your life when you're ready, people who are kind and good and everything you want, and I just... I sincerely hope I haven't poisoned that for you. Not everyone is like me. There's so much better in your future. I just want you to be happy, and I'm sorry if the way I acted made that harder for you."
Marshal was tired.
When they got back from S.H.I.E.L.D., Aidan had fallen asleep pretty much right away, and Jameson had joined Maureen in their bedroom as soon as he was settled. Marshal knew he should be trying to sleep too. They'd essentially pulled an all-nighter. But he didn't want to rest, because he knew that when he did, the nightmares would start pouring back. Helping Aidan had been good. It had been right. But Marshal knew he was going to pay for it with dreams of his own torture, and he wasn't looking forward to that.
This was why it was hard to quit drinking. It wasn't hard when people were around - when he could talk to someone and distract himself, or get a hug and a comforting word. It was when he was alone in his room and everything started flooding back that things got tough. Up till recently, he would have just poured himself a generous volume of something potent and alcoholic and swallowed a handful of pills in the hope of knocking himself out dreamlessly for the next couple of hours.
He didn't want to do that anymore, though. So he made a pot of coffee, and hoped he could stay awake until the feelings faded. Until the sides of his vision stopped swimming and his skin stopped crawling. Until every other thought wasn't about HYDRA again.
Definitely time for a distraction. He packed for Wakanda, and that occupied him for awhile. Packing meant decisions. Since he wasn't sure how long he would be gone, how much clothing did he need? Surely there would be a place he could do laundry there. Should he pack a jacket? Would he have a need for swim trunks?
Eventually he ran out of such mundane questions, and shifted over to giving Fievel's increasingly elaborate habitat a thorough cleaning. He would need to get a petsitter while he was away. Maybe the McIvors could help him out with that. He was happy to financially compensate them for their troubles.
There was something else he had to do before he left. Something he couldn't leave unresolved. He couldn't just blissfully go demand his freedom without even trying to make amends for something he had done without even needing the corrupting influence of HYDRA. The thing that had made him realize he was plenty corrupt without any outside assistance. He sat down at the table to write.
Dear Cait,
I should have done this way before now, but I was having trouble figuring out how to say what I need to say.
I'm really sorry for how things started out between us. It was all my fault. You were just trying to be nice to me, but I made it weird and inappropriate and I don't know if there’s any coming back from that.
I never wanted to hurt you. I was abused in the past, and I never wanted to make anyone else feel the way I felt. I still hope you didn't feel exactly the same way, but I know I probably made you scared and uncomfortable. I'm so sorry. I should have had better boundaries. I would give a lot to just go back and undo it all. I know forgiveness is too much to ask, but I want to make sure you know I know how bad I messed up.
He crossed out the last sentence. It didn't sound right.
Why am I like this?
He wrote to himself, not to her. He crossed it out.
Why can't I just be good?
Crossed out.
No, this was wrong, the whole thing was wrong. He was talking too much about himself. That was the problem. That was what everybody said about apologies. Focus on your impact, not your intent. Don't make it all about you.
And he shouldn't mention the abuse. He was trying to apologize to a child, for goodness sake. You don't talk about things like that to them. Besides, he had probably deserved it. He had sent the wrong signals then, just like now. A guy who had messed with a child the second he got the opportunity? Why would he expect anyone to pay attention to his boundaries, if he wasn't going to respect anyone else's? He'd had it coming.
Just start the letter over.
The distraction was effective, at least, and he hadn't been paying attention to his phone, so when Cait showed up, he was startled and jumped, even though he had been the one to invite her.
"Hi Cait. Jameson's nose is pretty swollen, but he says it'll be okay. He's lucky he heals fast. The other guy is okay too. He told us his name is Aidan. He remembered that last night. He's sleeping upstairs."
Cait didn't seem scared of Aidan at all, which was good. That would have been a tough one to navigate if she had been.
"He's... yeah, I guess having him here would draw out Thompson. Yeah. It would. But that's... that's not why. He's in so much pain, Cait. Not just the physical stuff. That heals. But everything Thompson put him through. He's going to need support. He's going to need people who care. Someone who... I mean, it wasn't exactly the same, but I probably know as much as anybody about what it was like for him. We didn't want to just give him to S.H.I.E.L.D. and let them lock him up somewhere. He's going to need friends to help him move past this. Trust me on that one."
Marshal knew that for a fact. He himself had just kind of stalled out trying to get his life together on his own. It wasn't till he had people to help that he'd really started making progress. Now he wanted to do that for Aidan.
"It'll probably draw out Thompson too, though, and that's good. We're going to be leaving for Wakanda soon - very soon - and we're hoping Thompson will follow us and leave your family alone, especially if he thinks Aidan had reason to follow us instead. So I hope you won't have any problems while we're away."
He had to do this. He had to. He couldn't keep putting it off forever.
"Cait, before I go, I don't want to leave this unsaid. I owe you an apology. The way I treated you when we first met was totally inappropriate, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for any pain and discomfort I caused you. Adults should be safe people for kids, and I wasn't that for you. I can't undo that, but I'll be better going forward, I swear. And I just hope... look, you're going to meet people in your life when you're ready, people who are kind and good and everything you want, and I just... I sincerely hope I haven't poisoned that for you. Not everyone is like me. There's so much better in your future. I just want you to be happy, and I'm sorry if the way I acted made that harder for you."
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Cait McIvor
Cait regarded Marshal closely for a long moment, squinting at him as she tried to understand where this apology was coming from. She only broke eye contact with him as she went to the fridge and pulled out a nearly-empty bottle of orange juice and snagged a bagel from the counter. From there, she walked to the dining room table where he had been scribbling on some paper and sat in a chair. Biting off a hunk of bagel, she set it down to take the lid off the orange juice. This she downed straight from the container. She made a point of looking him in the eye and not so much as glancing at the page before him.
"Marshal - you have behaved completely appropriately toward me from the moment we met through to now. When we met, I was an adult - in mind AND body - and I believe I flirted with you first. So there." She smirked at him before allowing her face to drop into something more serious.
"I honestly didn't expect this...de-aging thing. You have been nothing but kind and honest with me, even though this situation is totally nuts. You haven't poisoned me. That's impossible. In fact, these last few days has been the best I've ever had as a 'kid' ever. I have never had anyone treat me this well when I was this age as you, Jameson and Maureen have. If anything, it's given me a higher expectation for how I go about my life in my next cycle. Being young has never kept anyone from teaching me the hard lessons."
She took a thoughtful nibble of bagel, her other hand tapping a little beat on the vacuous orange juice container.
"I guess I should be the one apologizing to you, Marshal. I'm the one who keeps popping up in your life even though what has happened has required a change in how we relate to one another. I've been a bit selfish, I guess. I like hanging out with you. But I didn't take into account how hard of an adjustment it would be to maintain our friendship when I have changed so much. Is it too hard, Marshal? Do you want me to stop coming around? It's okay if the answer's yes...but I want you to know that I am secretly hoping the answer is no."
Cait regarded Marshal closely for a long moment, squinting at him as she tried to understand where this apology was coming from. She only broke eye contact with him as she went to the fridge and pulled out a nearly-empty bottle of orange juice and snagged a bagel from the counter. From there, she walked to the dining room table where he had been scribbling on some paper and sat in a chair. Biting off a hunk of bagel, she set it down to take the lid off the orange juice. This she downed straight from the container. She made a point of looking him in the eye and not so much as glancing at the page before him.
"Marshal - you have behaved completely appropriately toward me from the moment we met through to now. When we met, I was an adult - in mind AND body - and I believe I flirted with you first. So there." She smirked at him before allowing her face to drop into something more serious.
"I honestly didn't expect this...de-aging thing. You have been nothing but kind and honest with me, even though this situation is totally nuts. You haven't poisoned me. That's impossible. In fact, these last few days has been the best I've ever had as a 'kid' ever. I have never had anyone treat me this well when I was this age as you, Jameson and Maureen have. If anything, it's given me a higher expectation for how I go about my life in my next cycle. Being young has never kept anyone from teaching me the hard lessons."
She took a thoughtful nibble of bagel, her other hand tapping a little beat on the vacuous orange juice container.
"I guess I should be the one apologizing to you, Marshal. I'm the one who keeps popping up in your life even though what has happened has required a change in how we relate to one another. I've been a bit selfish, I guess. I like hanging out with you. But I didn't take into account how hard of an adjustment it would be to maintain our friendship when I have changed so much. Is it too hard, Marshal? Do you want me to stop coming around? It's okay if the answer's yes...but I want you to know that I am secretly hoping the answer is no."
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Marshal Knox and Jameson Bryant
Marshal breathed a sigh of relief.
He wasn't an abuser after all.
Someday Cait would find the love of her life (if she wanted) and could start a life with that person (if she wanted) without the shadow of some creepy guy she knew when she was twelve hanging over her head and messing with her idea of what a relationship should be.
And she was happy. They had made her happy.
That was the best case scenario.
As for him... well. He had learned his lesson. If he was honest with himself, he'd known it was a stupid fantasy. He'd known it when he flirted with her. It was never going to happen. Not the secret thing he couldn't tell anyone he wanted. To be intimate with someone who loves me... That was for other people. People like Jameson, upright and good. Not people who had a file like the one he had from Ginny. Had he really thought someone was going to learn all that and think, 'Yes, this man'? Of course not. He had known.
But he had thought it was harmless. That he could pretend, and it wouldn't hurt anyone but himself. Now he'd gotten a reality shock that it might hurt someone else. He'd been lucky this time. There wasn't going to be a next time. He would never take that risk again.
"You don't owe me any apologies, Cait. And I don't want you to leave. We're friends. We're going to stay friends. It's all good. We're going to be okay."
He filled her in on the rest of what had happened the night before - Aidan, and their time at S.H.I.E.L.D., and their plans for Wakanda. Oh, and that he had a brother now! A lot had transpired since they last spoke, he realized as he told it.
Eventually, Jameson wandered in looking for late breakfast. He looked mostly awake, and though he had a purplish swollen nose, he wasn't terribly worse for the wear. The sight of Marshal gave him pause, though. Marshal looked exhausted, despite the three quarters of a pot of coffee he had consumed by himself, and he was clearly pushing himself to stay awake even with all the caffeine coursing through a body that - with his current health problems - probably shouldn't be trying to tolerate it.
"Hi, Cait," Jameson said. "Hey, thanks for getting that file for me from Ginny. I appreciate it. Obviously I didn't want to see that on the nightly news. I appreciate you grabbing it for me."
He had burned it in the fireplace; no good could come from Ginny's manipulative and conniving interpretation of a superhero's emotional concerns.
With another glance at Marshal, he asked, "Can we go watch the football game?"
Marshal settled on the couch beside Jameson in front of the TV. However, Cait would probably notice that Jameson's interest wasn't really in the game. He put it on at low volume, so it became a buzzy background monotone, and within minutes Marshal had nodded off.
Within a few more minutes, however, he was talking in his sleep, and it was painfully clear why he had been trying to force himself to stay awake. "No... no... please don't... please... please stop..."
Jameson wrapped his arm around his sleeping brother and whispered, "It's okay. You're okay. You're safe. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you."
Marshal didn't quite wake up, but he seemed aware of Jameson's words on some level, and he settled, resting his head on Jameson's shoulder.
He talked in his sleep a few more times in the same vein, and each time, Jameson would comfort him until he relaxed.
When Marshal eventually woke up, he was alert and cheerful, seemingly much better for even a brief nap. Any sign that he'd had nightmares was carefully hidden behind a calm and upbeat demeanor; it made Jameson realize just how often this was probably happening, if Marshal could so effortlessly suppress the aftereffects.
"Is it almost time to leave for Wakanda?" Marshal asked, glancing around to try to locate a clock.
"Yep," Jameson said. "Almost."
Marshal smiled. He was nervous about Wakanda. But he was also so excited at the prospect of being free of HYDRA once and for all that he was almost bursting with it.
Marshal breathed a sigh of relief.
He wasn't an abuser after all.
Someday Cait would find the love of her life (if she wanted) and could start a life with that person (if she wanted) without the shadow of some creepy guy she knew when she was twelve hanging over her head and messing with her idea of what a relationship should be.
And she was happy. They had made her happy.
That was the best case scenario.
As for him... well. He had learned his lesson. If he was honest with himself, he'd known it was a stupid fantasy. He'd known it when he flirted with her. It was never going to happen. Not the secret thing he couldn't tell anyone he wanted. To be intimate with someone who loves me... That was for other people. People like Jameson, upright and good. Not people who had a file like the one he had from Ginny. Had he really thought someone was going to learn all that and think, 'Yes, this man'? Of course not. He had known.
But he had thought it was harmless. That he could pretend, and it wouldn't hurt anyone but himself. Now he'd gotten a reality shock that it might hurt someone else. He'd been lucky this time. There wasn't going to be a next time. He would never take that risk again.
"You don't owe me any apologies, Cait. And I don't want you to leave. We're friends. We're going to stay friends. It's all good. We're going to be okay."
He filled her in on the rest of what had happened the night before - Aidan, and their time at S.H.I.E.L.D., and their plans for Wakanda. Oh, and that he had a brother now! A lot had transpired since they last spoke, he realized as he told it.
Eventually, Jameson wandered in looking for late breakfast. He looked mostly awake, and though he had a purplish swollen nose, he wasn't terribly worse for the wear. The sight of Marshal gave him pause, though. Marshal looked exhausted, despite the three quarters of a pot of coffee he had consumed by himself, and he was clearly pushing himself to stay awake even with all the caffeine coursing through a body that - with his current health problems - probably shouldn't be trying to tolerate it.
"Hi, Cait," Jameson said. "Hey, thanks for getting that file for me from Ginny. I appreciate it. Obviously I didn't want to see that on the nightly news. I appreciate you grabbing it for me."
He had burned it in the fireplace; no good could come from Ginny's manipulative and conniving interpretation of a superhero's emotional concerns.
With another glance at Marshal, he asked, "Can we go watch the football game?"
Marshal settled on the couch beside Jameson in front of the TV. However, Cait would probably notice that Jameson's interest wasn't really in the game. He put it on at low volume, so it became a buzzy background monotone, and within minutes Marshal had nodded off.
Within a few more minutes, however, he was talking in his sleep, and it was painfully clear why he had been trying to force himself to stay awake. "No... no... please don't... please... please stop..."
Jameson wrapped his arm around his sleeping brother and whispered, "It's okay. You're okay. You're safe. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you."
Marshal didn't quite wake up, but he seemed aware of Jameson's words on some level, and he settled, resting his head on Jameson's shoulder.
He talked in his sleep a few more times in the same vein, and each time, Jameson would comfort him until he relaxed.
When Marshal eventually woke up, he was alert and cheerful, seemingly much better for even a brief nap. Any sign that he'd had nightmares was carefully hidden behind a calm and upbeat demeanor; it made Jameson realize just how often this was probably happening, if Marshal could so effortlessly suppress the aftereffects.
"Is it almost time to leave for Wakanda?" Marshal asked, glancing around to try to locate a clock.
"Yep," Jameson said. "Almost."
Marshal smiled. He was nervous about Wakanda. But he was also so excited at the prospect of being free of HYDRA once and for all that he was almost bursting with it.
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
The Hammer of Justice
Kyle stalked moodily into the S.H.I.E.L.D. infirmary.
"Got any ibuprofen?" he asked the medic at the desk. He was sore. His eye socket hurt where Stalwart had blackened it. And he was not in a good mood as a result.
The medic offered him two, took another look, then slid a few more across the counter. "Rough night?'
"Yeah." The Hammer of Justice was not inclined to elaborate, the but other guy was apparently not going to let it go.
"Heard you lost a fight against Mr. Stalwart. That's rough, man."
"I didn't lose a fight. I decided to compromise to allow the situation to deescalate. It was the right thing to do."
"Oh. I see. So did Stalwart compromise too?"
Silence. Kyle was not going to dignify that with a reply.
Finally, the medic said, "Look, I'm on your side, man. I'm sure you had your reasons."
"I did. Stalwart is a bad dude. Very bad."
"My sympathies. Hey, do you have a minute? There's someone I'd like you to talk to."
***
"...And that is how I know Stalwart is actually working for HYDRA," Kyle finally concluded to the sympathetic man in the expensive suit.
"He isn't," the man replied gently but firmly.
"No, he is, I'm sure of it..."
"Stalwart would not be welcomed by HYDRA. He is a man of action, but he's ruled by his passions. He's a force of chaos, not order. Not like you."
Kyle proudly puffed up a little. "Yeah. That's me. All about order."
"You know, Justice, I think HYDRA has been very misunderstood. HYDRA is not a force for evil, but merely a force for change. Positive change. The creation of an orderly world. The sort of world you and I both advocate for."
"What... uh... what exactly are you saying?"
"That I think you're missing out on some opportunities, Justice. That people don't see your full potential. And that's a shame. HYDRA would have things to offer you that S.H.I.E.L.D. does not. The access to technology alone would be worth your while. Not to mention the prestige. Why, I think HYDRA would even offer you a leadership role. That is, unless you enjoy lesser people like Coulson and Hill pushing you around all day..."
"I'm listening."
Kyle stalked moodily into the S.H.I.E.L.D. infirmary.
"Got any ibuprofen?" he asked the medic at the desk. He was sore. His eye socket hurt where Stalwart had blackened it. And he was not in a good mood as a result.
The medic offered him two, took another look, then slid a few more across the counter. "Rough night?'
"Yeah." The Hammer of Justice was not inclined to elaborate, the but other guy was apparently not going to let it go.
"Heard you lost a fight against Mr. Stalwart. That's rough, man."
"I didn't lose a fight. I decided to compromise to allow the situation to deescalate. It was the right thing to do."
"Oh. I see. So did Stalwart compromise too?"
Silence. Kyle was not going to dignify that with a reply.
Finally, the medic said, "Look, I'm on your side, man. I'm sure you had your reasons."
"I did. Stalwart is a bad dude. Very bad."
"My sympathies. Hey, do you have a minute? There's someone I'd like you to talk to."
***
"...And that is how I know Stalwart is actually working for HYDRA," Kyle finally concluded to the sympathetic man in the expensive suit.
"He isn't," the man replied gently but firmly.
"No, he is, I'm sure of it..."
"Stalwart would not be welcomed by HYDRA. He is a man of action, but he's ruled by his passions. He's a force of chaos, not order. Not like you."
Kyle proudly puffed up a little. "Yeah. That's me. All about order."
"You know, Justice, I think HYDRA has been very misunderstood. HYDRA is not a force for evil, but merely a force for change. Positive change. The creation of an orderly world. The sort of world you and I both advocate for."
"What... uh... what exactly are you saying?"
"That I think you're missing out on some opportunities, Justice. That people don't see your full potential. And that's a shame. HYDRA would have things to offer you that S.H.I.E.L.D. does not. The access to technology alone would be worth your while. Not to mention the prestige. Why, I think HYDRA would even offer you a leadership role. That is, unless you enjoy lesser people like Coulson and Hill pushing you around all day..."
"I'm listening."
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Welcome to the Suburbs. Population: Odd.
Jameson Bryant, Marshal Knox, and Aidan
When Aidan woke up, he was still in the comfortable bed, cocooned completely in the sheets and blankets. He cautiously poked his head out and looked around. Still safe. No one around. No danger.
He began making a quick pros and cons list in his head, comparing his current situation to the previous one.
Pros:
1.) Name back
2.) The art book (still on the bedside table, wasn’t taken while he slept)
3.) Bandaged arms
4.) Comfortable bed
5.) Not hungry, not thirsty
6.) Window
7.) Hurts less
Cons:
1.) None so far
He knew he couldn’t hide under the blankets forever. At some point, he would have to face whatever was going to happen next. But maybe he could hide just a little longer.
***
Maureen walked into the house with some shopping bags in her arms. As Jameson jumped up to relieve her of some of them, she saw his expression and smiled. “You’re just loving having a brother, aren’t you?”
He grinned back. “Yeah, it’s pretty great.”
“I’m glad. Well, I got the stuff we talked about.”
Maureen and Jameson quickly divvied it up to pass to the intended recipients.
Maureen gave Marshal the books he had asked for. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Kids. Your Pre-Teen and You. Child Development, Volume 3: Ages 12 to 18. (It seemed like he could skip Volumes 1 and 2 for now.) Marshal flipped through them. He would start reading them on the plane. Start memorizing them. And from now on, he would be correct. The man who was always careful had learned the definitive lesson that it wasn’t enough. From now on, double-careful. He was lucky to have a second chance. No more screw-ups.
“Thanks, Maureen. This is really gonna help.”
“You’re welcome, Marshal. I know that’s all you asked for, but I picked up something else for you. I hope that’s okay.”
From the size and shape, he could tell immediately what she was handing him, even though it was wrapped in brown paper.
“You got me my own yoga mat?”
“Mhm. You really seem to be getting into it. I thought you’d enjoy that.”
Marshal nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I am. It’s really…” He fumbled for the word they had said on the DVD. It was a word that had resonated with him. “It’s really grounding.”
Maureen seemed pleased. “Good. And I think if you stick with it, it’ll help you reclaim your body as your own.”
Marshal was rendered utterly speechless by that statement. Reclaim my body as my own. It was something he had never even thought about. But now that she had said it, he realized just how right she was. It had been so long since his body had truly belonged to him. He could barely remember what that felt like. All those years as someone else’s tool and instrument. What did owning his own body even mean?
He wanted to start finding out.
“Thank you for the yoga mat. You’re right. I do need to do that. And thank you for… you know. I’m glad you’re my friend.”
Maureen smiled back at him. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too.”
***
Meanwhile, Jameson headed upstairs to Aidan’s room. He knocked on the door - and waited. And waited. And knocked again.
Aidan’s muffled voice said, “Oh. Uh. Come in.” He had only belatedly realized that Jameson was asking his permission. He had forgotten asking permission was a thing.
Jameson set a bag down on the dresser. “Maureen - my girlfriend - went out and got you some clothes. You aren’t the same size as either Marshal or me, so we can’t lend you much, and you’ll need stuff to wear. Hopefully they’ll fit. We weren’t sure what you like, so it’s just some pretty basic stuff. You can pick out more for yourself later.”
“Thanks,” Aidan said, unable to conceal his surprise.
“We also… okay, maybe I’m overstepping here. But you seem to really like that book. Like really like it. So I thought maybe…” He reached into the second bag and pulled out a sketchbook, a set of drawing pencils, a folio of watercolor paper, and a set of paints. “I thought maybe you’d want some of this.”
Aidan stared at him with wide eyes. He reached out slowly - as if expecting a trap - and took what Jameson was offering. He pressed it to his chest. Emotion overcame him, and a single tear dripped unnoticed down each cheek. His hands shook.
“I was a painter,” Aidan said. His voice was shaky, too. “I was a painter. That was my life. That was everything to me. I remember now. That’s what he took. Are you… are you letting me have it back?”
“Yes. We’re giving that back. We’ll try to give back as much as possible of what he took from you. I’m so sorry all this happened to you, but we’re going to help you make it right. I promise.”
As Aidan stared at the art supplies in his hands, the voice in his head got a lot quieter. He wondered if there would be a time when he could just stop hearing it entirely. He wondered if these people would notice if that happened, or if they would just let him keep following them around indefinitely. He was starting to hope strongly for the latter.
***
Jameson was relieved at how well things were going with Aidan so far. He knew there were going to be limits - that Aidan was still controlled, still not free - but he had hope. With time, they’d help him break away. Heck, Aidan had even agreed to go to Wakanda with them without protest. They were well on the way.
His train of thought was interrupted by a phone call. The number was blocked, so he assumed it was S.H.I.E.L.D. business. Hopefully something he could deal with quickly, so they could get on their way.
“Hello. Stalwart speaking.”
“Mr. Bryant. We understand that you have recently come into possession of an extremely valuable HYDRA asset. We are prepared to make a generous deal to have that asset returned.”
“Who the hell is this?”
“A great deal of time, money, and technology was invested in this particular piece of property. We are prepared to offer essentially a blank check to reclaim him. Name your price.”
Jameson thought quickly, and made a decision. “My help doesn’t come cheaply.”
“Or perhaps I can sweeten the deal. Technology, perhaps? Vibranium will soon be a thing of the past. If you wish to keep up with your enemies, you’ll need something more innovative. A new suit, perhaps?”
“You’re making a lot of promises. How do I know you’ll keep up your end of the bargain if I give Marshal back to you?”
“A valid question. I’m currently wiring money to your bank account, as an act of good faith. You’ll get the rest of what I’ve promised when we reclaim the asset.”
“Fine. Meet me at the old airstrip west of Albany at noon tomorrow, and I’ll bring him to you.”
“Time is of the essence…”
“Yeah, I get that, but he’s going to be suspicious. I need time to convince him. Tomorrow at noon, like I said.”
“Very well. And Mr. Bryant? Don’t let us down. You would much rather have HYDRA as a friend than an enemy. Trust me on that.”
Jameson hung up and checked his bank balance. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes. Wow. HYDRA must really want Marshal back. He selected a name from his phone contacts. Two rings, then the call was answered.
“This is Hill.”
“Hello, ma’am. This is Stalwart. First of all, thanks for your help last night. You were really a lifesaver. But I’m afraid I’m calling to ask another favor. I know this is way below your pay grade, so please don’t be offended. It’s just, I know you’re clean, and I don’t know that with confidence about any of the techs…”
“Okay. Understood. Go ahead.”
“I need a trace on the last call to my phone. Also the last deposit in my bank account. They claimed to be HYDRA.”
Maria Hill let out a breath. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I knew they’d show up again eventually. Rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. from the ground up to get rid of them should have been enough, but you know what they say about cutting off one head. Okay. I’ll check it out. Thanks for the tip.”
“Uh. There’s something else. I agreed to meet them at that old airstrip outside of Albany tomorrow at noon, to hand over Marshal.”
He thought he could detect a faint smile in her voice as she replied, “I see. But unlike me, this HYDRA caller doesn’t know you have a Quinjet reserved to take Mr. Knox to Wakanda today. By the time they show up to the rendezvous, the two of you won’t even be in the country, so there’s no risk he’ll fall into their hands. Good work, Stalwart.”
“So you’ll…?”
“Yep, I’ve got it from here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
When Aidan woke up, he was still in the comfortable bed, cocooned completely in the sheets and blankets. He cautiously poked his head out and looked around. Still safe. No one around. No danger.
He began making a quick pros and cons list in his head, comparing his current situation to the previous one.
Pros:
1.) Name back
2.) The art book (still on the bedside table, wasn’t taken while he slept)
3.) Bandaged arms
4.) Comfortable bed
5.) Not hungry, not thirsty
6.) Window
7.) Hurts less
Cons:
1.) None so far
He knew he couldn’t hide under the blankets forever. At some point, he would have to face whatever was going to happen next. But maybe he could hide just a little longer.
***
Maureen walked into the house with some shopping bags in her arms. As Jameson jumped up to relieve her of some of them, she saw his expression and smiled. “You’re just loving having a brother, aren’t you?”
He grinned back. “Yeah, it’s pretty great.”
“I’m glad. Well, I got the stuff we talked about.”
Maureen and Jameson quickly divvied it up to pass to the intended recipients.
Maureen gave Marshal the books he had asked for. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Kids. Your Pre-Teen and You. Child Development, Volume 3: Ages 12 to 18. (It seemed like he could skip Volumes 1 and 2 for now.) Marshal flipped through them. He would start reading them on the plane. Start memorizing them. And from now on, he would be correct. The man who was always careful had learned the definitive lesson that it wasn’t enough. From now on, double-careful. He was lucky to have a second chance. No more screw-ups.
“Thanks, Maureen. This is really gonna help.”
“You’re welcome, Marshal. I know that’s all you asked for, but I picked up something else for you. I hope that’s okay.”
From the size and shape, he could tell immediately what she was handing him, even though it was wrapped in brown paper.
“You got me my own yoga mat?”
“Mhm. You really seem to be getting into it. I thought you’d enjoy that.”
Marshal nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I am. It’s really…” He fumbled for the word they had said on the DVD. It was a word that had resonated with him. “It’s really grounding.”
Maureen seemed pleased. “Good. And I think if you stick with it, it’ll help you reclaim your body as your own.”
Marshal was rendered utterly speechless by that statement. Reclaim my body as my own. It was something he had never even thought about. But now that she had said it, he realized just how right she was. It had been so long since his body had truly belonged to him. He could barely remember what that felt like. All those years as someone else’s tool and instrument. What did owning his own body even mean?
He wanted to start finding out.
“Thank you for the yoga mat. You’re right. I do need to do that. And thank you for… you know. I’m glad you’re my friend.”
Maureen smiled back at him. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too.”
***
Meanwhile, Jameson headed upstairs to Aidan’s room. He knocked on the door - and waited. And waited. And knocked again.
Aidan’s muffled voice said, “Oh. Uh. Come in.” He had only belatedly realized that Jameson was asking his permission. He had forgotten asking permission was a thing.
Jameson set a bag down on the dresser. “Maureen - my girlfriend - went out and got you some clothes. You aren’t the same size as either Marshal or me, so we can’t lend you much, and you’ll need stuff to wear. Hopefully they’ll fit. We weren’t sure what you like, so it’s just some pretty basic stuff. You can pick out more for yourself later.”
“Thanks,” Aidan said, unable to conceal his surprise.
“We also… okay, maybe I’m overstepping here. But you seem to really like that book. Like really like it. So I thought maybe…” He reached into the second bag and pulled out a sketchbook, a set of drawing pencils, a folio of watercolor paper, and a set of paints. “I thought maybe you’d want some of this.”
Aidan stared at him with wide eyes. He reached out slowly - as if expecting a trap - and took what Jameson was offering. He pressed it to his chest. Emotion overcame him, and a single tear dripped unnoticed down each cheek. His hands shook.
“I was a painter,” Aidan said. His voice was shaky, too. “I was a painter. That was my life. That was everything to me. I remember now. That’s what he took. Are you… are you letting me have it back?”
“Yes. We’re giving that back. We’ll try to give back as much as possible of what he took from you. I’m so sorry all this happened to you, but we’re going to help you make it right. I promise.”
As Aidan stared at the art supplies in his hands, the voice in his head got a lot quieter. He wondered if there would be a time when he could just stop hearing it entirely. He wondered if these people would notice if that happened, or if they would just let him keep following them around indefinitely. He was starting to hope strongly for the latter.
***
Jameson was relieved at how well things were going with Aidan so far. He knew there were going to be limits - that Aidan was still controlled, still not free - but he had hope. With time, they’d help him break away. Heck, Aidan had even agreed to go to Wakanda with them without protest. They were well on the way.
His train of thought was interrupted by a phone call. The number was blocked, so he assumed it was S.H.I.E.L.D. business. Hopefully something he could deal with quickly, so they could get on their way.
“Hello. Stalwart speaking.”
“Mr. Bryant. We understand that you have recently come into possession of an extremely valuable HYDRA asset. We are prepared to make a generous deal to have that asset returned.”
“Who the hell is this?”
“A great deal of time, money, and technology was invested in this particular piece of property. We are prepared to offer essentially a blank check to reclaim him. Name your price.”
Jameson thought quickly, and made a decision. “My help doesn’t come cheaply.”
“Or perhaps I can sweeten the deal. Technology, perhaps? Vibranium will soon be a thing of the past. If you wish to keep up with your enemies, you’ll need something more innovative. A new suit, perhaps?”
“You’re making a lot of promises. How do I know you’ll keep up your end of the bargain if I give Marshal back to you?”
“A valid question. I’m currently wiring money to your bank account, as an act of good faith. You’ll get the rest of what I’ve promised when we reclaim the asset.”
“Fine. Meet me at the old airstrip west of Albany at noon tomorrow, and I’ll bring him to you.”
“Time is of the essence…”
“Yeah, I get that, but he’s going to be suspicious. I need time to convince him. Tomorrow at noon, like I said.”
“Very well. And Mr. Bryant? Don’t let us down. You would much rather have HYDRA as a friend than an enemy. Trust me on that.”
Jameson hung up and checked his bank balance. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes. Wow. HYDRA must really want Marshal back. He selected a name from his phone contacts. Two rings, then the call was answered.
“This is Hill.”
“Hello, ma’am. This is Stalwart. First of all, thanks for your help last night. You were really a lifesaver. But I’m afraid I’m calling to ask another favor. I know this is way below your pay grade, so please don’t be offended. It’s just, I know you’re clean, and I don’t know that with confidence about any of the techs…”
“Okay. Understood. Go ahead.”
“I need a trace on the last call to my phone. Also the last deposit in my bank account. They claimed to be HYDRA.”
Maria Hill let out a breath. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I knew they’d show up again eventually. Rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. from the ground up to get rid of them should have been enough, but you know what they say about cutting off one head. Okay. I’ll check it out. Thanks for the tip.”
“Uh. There’s something else. I agreed to meet them at that old airstrip outside of Albany tomorrow at noon, to hand over Marshal.”
He thought he could detect a faint smile in her voice as she replied, “I see. But unlike me, this HYDRA caller doesn’t know you have a Quinjet reserved to take Mr. Knox to Wakanda today. By the time they show up to the rendezvous, the two of you won’t even be in the country, so there’s no risk he’ll fall into their hands. Good work, Stalwart.”
“So you’ll…?”
“Yep, I’ve got it from here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”