Jameson Bryant, Marshal Knox, and Aidan
“I have… something I need to tell you,” Jameson told Marshal. This conversation was going to be a lot harder than the one with Hill. “Can we sit down for a sec?”
Marshal sat with him. Worried. Trusting.
“I just got a phone call,” Jameson said. “There’s no easy way to say this. The person claimed to be HYDRA. They tried to get me to give you back to them. I hope you understand by now that that is never going to happen. That as long as there’s breath in my body, you’re never going to be alone and abandoned. That I’ll protect you. I tricked them - put them off - and I think it worked for now. But we’re going to have to be careful. I’m sorry.”
Panic welled up in Marshal’s chest. They wanted him back? They were going to torture him again. Soften him up. Break him. Then put him back in that chair. That chair. Take his mind away. He was going to be a killer again.
No. No, he told himself, that wasn’t true. He looked over at Jameson. Really looked. Saw the love and worry on his brother’s face. Saw the outstretched hand. He took it and squeezed it.
“It’s okay,” Marshal said. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to be.”
“Yeah. I’m really okay. You’re keeping me. You love me. You don't let people hurt me. I don’t have to go back to them. It’s going to be alright. I’m going to be alright.”
Jameson squeezed his hand back. “Yes. Yes, you are.”
***
Marshal had assumed he would be saying goodbye to Cait. He was taken a little aback when she instead expressed the desire to go. Well, more like insistence on going. At first he was alarmed - less than twenty-four hours earlier, he had been facing the possibility of spending his life in prison for murder, and now he was looking at adding international kidnapping to the list of things to potentially put him behind bars? But Cait didn’t really have a guardian, and so didn’t have anyone to object. The trip was for medical purposes, not for fun, so it would probably be boring for a kid. Scary things might happen, if that medical stuff didn’t go well. Did that mean he was supposed to say no? Was it even his place to say no? He wished he’d had a chance to read those books. Was this situation even covered? He decided not to interfere, and just let her do what she wanted. He’d take her to do something touristy and fun in Wakanda to make it up to her, he decided.
At least he was finally losing the instinct to confide in Cait, and managed not to blab pointlessly about what had just happened. There should be a How To Talk To Your Pre-Teen About HYDRA pamphlet, but no such luck. He decided there wasn’t really anything to tell, anyway. Nothing had happened. He didn’t want to remind her that he had been tortured - if he had known then what he knew now, he wouldn’t have said anything in the first place, and he could just be the neighborhood weirdo instead of the guy fighting a massive dose of trauma. It was too late for that. But there was no point kicking up more fuss about it. It was over and done with. Probably.
***
The Quinjet was unlike any airplane Marshal had ever flown on; it was more like a cushy office suite than an aircraft. He could get used to this, he thought.
At one point, Jameson excused himself to make a video call.
“Thanks for squeezing me into your schedule, Doc.”
Jameson had scheduled an extra therapy session, which Doctor Laurel had been kind enough to agree to do remotely. They both knew that the superhero worked hard to maintain his emotional health; he refused to be like his father.
“You’re welcome, Jameson. Is everything okay? How is it going with Marshal? I know this has been an adjustment for you.”
“Going well. Things with Marshal are good. He’s not the issue. It’s me. I just have so much… so much anger. About what they did to him. I found out some of it, and he told me some more, and… it’s awful, Doc. It’s not that I think anger is unjustified here, mind you. They tortured and abused him. They violated him mentally and physically. And then we found another guy last night - also tortured, also brainwashed. He didn’t even know his own name. The things these people did to them both were monstrous. Then HYDRA - the people who hurt Marshal - someone from there called me today. Tried to get me to give him back. Doc, they tried to take my brother! And it’s normal to get angry about stuff like that. It would be unhealthy not to be angry, I think - it would mean I didn’t care enough. But I can’t let it get the better of me. I can’t get overwhelmed by it. The most important thing is taking care of them. Helping them heal. I can’t do that if I’m stuck in my own feelings. And with my work - I still have to be able to be fair. I still have to have compassion. I still have to keep seeing people as human beings, even if what they do is horrific. Is that… something we can talk about?”
“Yes. Of course. I’m glad you said something about this. Let’s dig into it.”
***
The flight to Wakanda was uneventful.
Wakanda was - in Marshal’s opinion - incredibly cool. He’d never really traveled recreationally, only with the army (which hadn’t been to particularly interesting places) or as a HYDRA asset (to places that were probably interesting, but he hadn’t really experienced as such under the circumstances.) Despite what brought him here, he couldn’t help drawing in an excited breath when he got his first glimpse of Birnin Zana - The Golden City. It was beautiful. The architecture was like nothing he had ever seen before. Everywhere he looked, there was color and activity and life. “Wow,” was all he managed to say, rather ineloquently.
They were shown to pleasant and comfortable lodgings - a three bedroom suite with attached living and dining areas. Jameson and Maureen would share a bedroom and Marshal would bunk with Aidan, leaving the last room for Cait. There was even, to Marshal’s relief, a small washing machine and dryer.
At one point as they were settling in, Marshal noticed Aidan staring at Jameson, and pulled him aside and said quietly, “Jameson doesn't hit us. Just so you know. You don’t have to keep watching his hands all the time. Oh, and he'll give you a hug if you want one.” Aidan looked skeptical, but accepted this with a nod.
Shortly after their arrival and some time to get situated, they were served a traditional Wakandan meal. They had eaten on the plane, but even so, the delicious aroma of the spices made Marshal’s mouth water. They started to take their seats at the table…
…And Jameson noticed Aidan holding back. “Come sit with us!” Jameson said with a smile.
Aidan looked uncomfortable. “I… wouldn't know what to talk about. I don't know what to say anymore.”
“That's okay,” Jameson said. “You don't have to talk if you don't want to. But we'd really like you to sit with us anyway.”
He did. And the meal was amazing. Marshal tried to focus on that, not what was coming.
First thing in the morning, though, it was time for the real purpose of their trip.
***
Marshal was terrified. He wanted this. He wanted so badly to be free. But once he was in the medical facility, he flinched every time someone approached, and tensed up at every touch.
It wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated, though. Not by a longshot. As promised, Jameson held his hand as much as possible, and hovered nearby when both of Marshal’s hands were needed for tests or scans. No one touched Marshal without his permission, and they always warned him first. He wasn’t restrained, and such a thing wasn’t even suggested or hinted at. They explained what they were doing. Some things were uncomfortable, but nothing really hurt. That was certainly a change from HYDRA.
So was the fact that they left his hospital gown in place as much as possible. Marshal wasn’t used to such consideration. For HYDRA, he was public property. He was used to being looked at so often - not even with lust, but with the dispassionate gaze you would reserve for an object. He was used to his bare flesh being subjected to the same analytical eye as any other weapon, as if his body was no more than a gun or a bomb.
He was never going to enjoy visits to the doctor. But this was… better. A lot better. And when he needed to, he could squeeze Jameson’s hand as tightly as he wanted.
He was doing just that - squeezing Jameson’s hand - as Shuri gave him the final result.
“We can help you, Marshal. But we do have a problem to overcome. The serum you’ve been injected with has affected all of your organ systems. It’s going to be a race against time to reverse all the damage. I’m afraid the only way to buy that time is to put you in cryogenic suspension - temporarily, of course.”
Marshal’s breath grew ragged and all his muscles tensed. They were going to put him into cryo again?
…The cold, so cold, all the warmth draining out of his body, how it ached, his veins slowly freezing, brain darkening as he instinctively fought for consciousness…
…He would be alone. Vulnerable. Completely unable to defend himself. What if someone woke him and did things to him? No one would ever know…
…What if his family was gone when he woke up? What if he never saw them again? What if he was surrounded by HYDRA faces when he opened his eyes? It could all start happening again…
He shook his head, trying to clear it, forcing down the fears and the panic. Trying to ignore the screaming phantom sensations in his body. Staying rational.
I have to do this. I have to. It’s the only way I stay alive. I want to stay alive. I want to stay alive. I want to…
“I can do it,” Marshal said. He wished his voice sounded more confident to match the words. “I can. I can do this.” Trying to add a little levity, he added, “And hey, you’ll all get a break from me for awhile.”
Jameson did not seem amused by that. “I don’t want a break from you.” He turned to Shuri. “Please, is there anything else we can do? Anything I can do? Anything I can give? Blood, maybe? Or plasma? Bone marrow? Stem cells? Anything…?”
Shuri regarded Jameson sympathetically. They both knew none of his ideas were going to work. They both knew why he was offering so desperately anyway.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is difficult. But it will be worth it when Marshal is well again. We just… need more time. I don’t know how else to buy it.”
Jameson’s brow remained deeply creased with frown lines. “If that’s the only way. I’m sorry, Marshal. I’ll stay with you the entire time–”
Shuri shook her head and said gently, “Jameson, it could be months. Or longer.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll stay with you. The entire time.”
“Thanks,” Marshal said. He knew ‘thanks’ wasn’t enough. But he didn’t know what else to say. “I’d better tell Cait.”
***
Marshal made sure he had a smile on his face when he approached her. No need to worry her. Careful not to make her sad.
“So it was basically good news,” he told her. “They think they can help me. That’s the biggest thing. The thing we should focus on. But there’s a little… uh… snag. I’m pretty bad off medically, it turns out. I wouldn’t have enough time left for everything they have to do. So they’re going to freeze me for awhile. It’s fine; I’ve been frozen before. No big deal. It’ll basically just be like I’m asleep. I’ll be back before you know it. Can you check on Fievel while I’m gone? I’m not sure how long it’ll be. But it’ll give me the time I need. Then we’ll do the fun stuff I promised, okay?”
The Golden City
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Aidan, Maureen Finnegan, and Jameson Bryant
While Marshal was at his medical appointments, Aidan spent the day sketching and watercolor painting, while Maureen kept him company. Aidan showed a great deal of interest in the balcony, and eventually moved his artistic base of operations out there so he could look down on the street below, but he didn't show any inclination to venture beyond their suite. At least not without other meta-humans who could watch his back. Maureen was relieved about that, because she would have had no way to keep him safe out there, and it would have been so easy to lose him in the crowd - an outcome that fortunately he too seemed to want to avoid.
Aidan did a few sketches of Maureen, which he presented to her as a gift when he was done.
"Thank you!" she said. "These are beautiful."
Aidan's only response was a small smile, but he was pleased.
While Marshal talked to Cait about his test results, Jameson needed to have a conversation with Maureen too. He was confident he had made the right choice... but that didn't necessarily mean it was an easy one.
"...So he's going to have to stay here in cryo for awhile," Jameson concluded. "They aren't sure how long. And..." He trailed off.
Maureen nodded. "Okay. I assume you're staying with him?"
"Yeah. I'm staying. You're... not mad?"
"Of course not. You need to do this. And I need to go back. I wish I could stay too, but I can't leave the rescue for that long. Cait can come back with me; I'm sure her family wouldn't be okay with her just staying away indefinitely. But we should see if Aidan is willing to stay with you. There wouldn't be much I could do against Thompson if he came back. Make me a list of anything you need from home, and I'll mail them to you."
"I'm sorry, Maureen. I wish there was another way. I'm gonna miss you so much. My heart is really torn in two here. I wish I could be two places at once."
"I know. But you can't. And this is the right choice. Obviously I want you with me, but he's the one who needs you there. Need wins out. You love us both. I know that. I have a support system, though. I have my family and friends. And he has... well, he has you. I don't want him to be alone here."
"This wasn't how I wanted things to go."
It wasn't how he had imagined the next few months. He had thought he would be ring shopping, getting down on one knee, planning a wedding...
"I know. But we'll talk every day. I'll visit as often as I can. We'll make it work."
He hugged her tightly, then gave her a long, lingering kiss. "I love you. So much."
Maybe it was going to have to wait longer than he had planned. But this was definitely the woman he wanted to marry.
While Marshal was at his medical appointments, Aidan spent the day sketching and watercolor painting, while Maureen kept him company. Aidan showed a great deal of interest in the balcony, and eventually moved his artistic base of operations out there so he could look down on the street below, but he didn't show any inclination to venture beyond their suite. At least not without other meta-humans who could watch his back. Maureen was relieved about that, because she would have had no way to keep him safe out there, and it would have been so easy to lose him in the crowd - an outcome that fortunately he too seemed to want to avoid.
Aidan did a few sketches of Maureen, which he presented to her as a gift when he was done.
"Thank you!" she said. "These are beautiful."
Aidan's only response was a small smile, but he was pleased.
While Marshal talked to Cait about his test results, Jameson needed to have a conversation with Maureen too. He was confident he had made the right choice... but that didn't necessarily mean it was an easy one.
"...So he's going to have to stay here in cryo for awhile," Jameson concluded. "They aren't sure how long. And..." He trailed off.
Maureen nodded. "Okay. I assume you're staying with him?"
"Yeah. I'm staying. You're... not mad?"
"Of course not. You need to do this. And I need to go back. I wish I could stay too, but I can't leave the rescue for that long. Cait can come back with me; I'm sure her family wouldn't be okay with her just staying away indefinitely. But we should see if Aidan is willing to stay with you. There wouldn't be much I could do against Thompson if he came back. Make me a list of anything you need from home, and I'll mail them to you."
"I'm sorry, Maureen. I wish there was another way. I'm gonna miss you so much. My heart is really torn in two here. I wish I could be two places at once."
"I know. But you can't. And this is the right choice. Obviously I want you with me, but he's the one who needs you there. Need wins out. You love us both. I know that. I have a support system, though. I have my family and friends. And he has... well, he has you. I don't want him to be alone here."
"This wasn't how I wanted things to go."
It wasn't how he had imagined the next few months. He had thought he would be ring shopping, getting down on one knee, planning a wedding...
"I know. But we'll talk every day. I'll visit as often as I can. We'll make it work."
He hugged her tightly, then gave her a long, lingering kiss. "I love you. So much."
Maybe it was going to have to wait longer than he had planned. But this was definitely the woman he wanted to marry.
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Jameson Bryant
Jameson’s phone rang. It was Maria Hill again - presumably to update him about the situation at the airstrip. It seemed he was correct.
“We arrested the HYDRA operatives who showed up. They’re cooling their heels in a cell, but no one is talking so far. I don’t want to get too complacent, though - I guarantee there’s more where that came from.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Jameson agreed. “Thanks for saving the day for us. Again.”
“You’re welcome. There’s something else. Unrelated. I had some downtime so I looked into what I could find out about your guy. Aidan. I figured there couldn’t be that many missing artists fitting his description. I found something. A missing poster that’s definitely him. I’ll dig up more, but it’s a start. I’ll email it to you.”
Jameson was starting to wonder exactly how he was going to repay her for all of this.
***
“Deputy Director Hill found something,” Jameson told Aidan. They were out on the balcony; it really was a great view. “A missing poster. She’s still looking. There have to be more records. But here’s what we know so far. Your full name is Aidan Som Phon Millican. You were living in Portland. You’re twenty-three years old. Your birthday is May 5th. And whoever you're friends with back in Portland, they cared enough about you that they reported you missing and put up posters for you, so you definitely made a difference and mattered to people.”
“Thanks,” Aidan said softly. “Can you tell her thanks?”
With each piece, it was coming back. With each piece, he was becoming himself again. A changed version of himself, of course. Just as he would always bear the rune scars on his arms and back, he would have unseen scars on his psyche too. But he could live with that. His self was coming back, and that was enough.
Jameson’s phone rang. It was Maria Hill again - presumably to update him about the situation at the airstrip. It seemed he was correct.
“We arrested the HYDRA operatives who showed up. They’re cooling their heels in a cell, but no one is talking so far. I don’t want to get too complacent, though - I guarantee there’s more where that came from.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Jameson agreed. “Thanks for saving the day for us. Again.”
“You’re welcome. There’s something else. Unrelated. I had some downtime so I looked into what I could find out about your guy. Aidan. I figured there couldn’t be that many missing artists fitting his description. I found something. A missing poster that’s definitely him. I’ll dig up more, but it’s a start. I’ll email it to you.”
Jameson was starting to wonder exactly how he was going to repay her for all of this.
***
“Deputy Director Hill found something,” Jameson told Aidan. They were out on the balcony; it really was a great view. “A missing poster. She’s still looking. There have to be more records. But here’s what we know so far. Your full name is Aidan Som Phon Millican. You were living in Portland. You’re twenty-three years old. Your birthday is May 5th. And whoever you're friends with back in Portland, they cared enough about you that they reported you missing and put up posters for you, so you definitely made a difference and mattered to people.”
“Thanks,” Aidan said softly. “Can you tell her thanks?”
With each piece, it was coming back. With each piece, he was becoming himself again. A changed version of himself, of course. Just as he would always bear the rune scars on his arms and back, he would have unseen scars on his psyche too. But he could live with that. His self was coming back, and that was enough.
Re: The Golden City
Cait McIvor
Perhaps she shouldn't have come along. It was clear that she was the odd man out - she wasn't a super soldier in need of a reset, nor the superhero fronting the mission, nor was she really Marshal's family. She could feel the discomfort with her presence, the lingering question of why she would ask to go, but discomfort hadn't stopped her before and it certainly wouldn't stop her now. She wondered if she was being selfish. As she gazed out the window of the Quinjet at the endless sea of clouds, she ruminated on her motivations for inserting herself on this particular journey. The list was short: because Marshal was her friend and she wanted to look out for him. Jameson was a good guy, but she worried that maybe he was just a little too good. No, Marshal needed someone like her around to think just that little bit worse of people - just in case.
And then there was that fellow Aidan. He still watched her, though not with the same single-minded intensity as before, and Cait considered the idea that having Aidan's attentions divided could be a very good thing for him right now. Distraction was a marvellous thing and hopefully it would help him shake the doctor's hold on him just that little bit more. She felt for the man. She had recognized some of the runes from Ewan's drawings and had felt a deep sorrow for him. The pain of having self ripped away was tortuous. Something with which she unfortunately had some personal experience.
~~~~~
The arrival in the great capital city of the mysterious Wakanda. One look at the streets - at the technological marvels soaring the skies - the people peaceful below - and she knew why it was so hard to get in. This place was not like the rest of the world. If she had to make a comparison, she supposed Atlantis in her home dimension could be its counterpart. She suddenly had a lot more hope for Marshal's future. If their city looked like this - surely they could do what they said they could.
Was that it? Was that the real reason she'd insisted on coming along? To somehow alleviate the deep worry she had that the promise had been a lie? What would she have done - or what would she do - if they couldn't help? Cait didn't want to answer that question in advance. It was better to focus on the present.
Focusing on what was in front of her was easy enough to do with so much to look at. She wished she had more of a chance to see it before they were ushered off to their rooms, but then again, they weren't there to sight-see. This trip was about Marshal and Cait wasn't going to do anything to mess that up for him. She had seen the guards watching their group. She avoided making eye contact with the ones who were making an effort to be discreet. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to suspect that she might be a threat. She wasn't, of course, so long as things went well for the man she was becoming a little too attached to.
The first thing Cait did when she entered their home away from home was take off her shoes. She wanted to feel the ground under her and it somehow felt wrong to have a barrier between her and it. It was kind of them to give her a room. It made her feel like she was expected, though she knew the third room had probably been intended for Aidan. He could have it, for all it mattered. As much as she had gotten used to sleeping in a bed as of late, she certainly didn't require one. Privacy, too, was something she had learned to live without. And yet here it was, offered to her as though it were the basest of human requirements. Cait wouldn't complain.
The first scent of the food coming down the hall brought a smile to her face. Her time living in Morocco had been challenging. She had grown up the poorest of the poor, stealing food from vendors in the grand bazaar, facing beatings from her fellow street kids and the city guards. Then she'd escaped the city with a Bedouin tribe and had lived in the Atlas mountains like a wild goat...among other things. It hadn't been her favourite century. Except for one thing - the food. The rich spices of the region paired with meat and sweet dried fruit - she hadn't experienced anything like it. But now, those familiar spices - with a few new friends - assailed her senses and she found herself viewing the past with some inconceivable amount of fondness. She had gone to the table when the food arrived, murmured a traditional blessing (though likely not of any tribe living in Wakanda) and promptly dug into the meal with her hands.
~~~~~
Cait had tried to stay in the rooms provided while waiting for the Wakandan doctors to finish their assessment of Marshal. She had inspected the tile work, the tapestries, the joinery on the tables...and had migrated out onto the balcony with Aidan. He was immersed in painting everything he could lay his eyes on and she sat and watched him for awhile, his sure, even brush strokes soothing to her anxious heart.
Her feet swung in the air as she sat on the balcony railing, continually tempted to jump down and walk through the streets. If it had just been her, she would have, but what if the Wakandans took her wandering as a threat? An attempt explore an area other than the area they'd been politely, but insistently, placed could easily be misconstrued as an offence. She could be wrong, but she had a feeling that secret cities probably had things they wanted to keep secret - even from guests.
And so it was no small amount of relief when Marshal and Jameson returned. She had spotted them as they moved from the transport to the doorway of their 'hotel' and had happily gone inside to greet them. Marshal looked...worried. He was smiling, sure, but he almost looked more nervous than he had when he'd left in the morning. Something was wrong, but not so wrong as to send her on the rampage. Jameson had seemed fairly relaxed when he'd arrived and surely if they'd refused to treat Marshal, he would have been upset. No, what was bothering Marshal was personal.
And there it was. The timbre of his voice when he talked about being frozen. Cryo? Why would they need to use cryo to help Marshal? Cait decided that she should ask him. His response was something along the lines of them needing more time to be able to heal the damage to his body. More time. Time.
Cait didn't say anything after she asked her question, but stared at the ground with a strange unfocused gaze, almost like she'd forgotten he was there. Just as abruptly, she looked back up at Marshal, the crooked grin on her face and a calculating look in her eye.
"So if time is all you need...do you think I could talk to your doctor? Time is something I kinda have a lot of, as you might recall." Her eyes wandered over to one of the tapestries on the wall depicting some sort of jaguar man and flowers. Maybe. Just maybe.
"I have a feeling that this place with all this technology might also understand a bit about magic. And with any lucky, have a yellow diamond lying around. Marshal, it's just an idea, but I think I'd like to discuss it with the sciencey people here to see if we can turn this idea into a plan." She looked up at him and added, "If that's okay with you. I don't wanna push my way into your treatment, but I think I really can help."
Perhaps she shouldn't have come along. It was clear that she was the odd man out - she wasn't a super soldier in need of a reset, nor the superhero fronting the mission, nor was she really Marshal's family. She could feel the discomfort with her presence, the lingering question of why she would ask to go, but discomfort hadn't stopped her before and it certainly wouldn't stop her now. She wondered if she was being selfish. As she gazed out the window of the Quinjet at the endless sea of clouds, she ruminated on her motivations for inserting herself on this particular journey. The list was short: because Marshal was her friend and she wanted to look out for him. Jameson was a good guy, but she worried that maybe he was just a little too good. No, Marshal needed someone like her around to think just that little bit worse of people - just in case.
And then there was that fellow Aidan. He still watched her, though not with the same single-minded intensity as before, and Cait considered the idea that having Aidan's attentions divided could be a very good thing for him right now. Distraction was a marvellous thing and hopefully it would help him shake the doctor's hold on him just that little bit more. She felt for the man. She had recognized some of the runes from Ewan's drawings and had felt a deep sorrow for him. The pain of having self ripped away was tortuous. Something with which she unfortunately had some personal experience.
~~~~~
The arrival in the great capital city of the mysterious Wakanda. One look at the streets - at the technological marvels soaring the skies - the people peaceful below - and she knew why it was so hard to get in. This place was not like the rest of the world. If she had to make a comparison, she supposed Atlantis in her home dimension could be its counterpart. She suddenly had a lot more hope for Marshal's future. If their city looked like this - surely they could do what they said they could.
Was that it? Was that the real reason she'd insisted on coming along? To somehow alleviate the deep worry she had that the promise had been a lie? What would she have done - or what would she do - if they couldn't help? Cait didn't want to answer that question in advance. It was better to focus on the present.
Focusing on what was in front of her was easy enough to do with so much to look at. She wished she had more of a chance to see it before they were ushered off to their rooms, but then again, they weren't there to sight-see. This trip was about Marshal and Cait wasn't going to do anything to mess that up for him. She had seen the guards watching their group. She avoided making eye contact with the ones who were making an effort to be discreet. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to suspect that she might be a threat. She wasn't, of course, so long as things went well for the man she was becoming a little too attached to.
The first thing Cait did when she entered their home away from home was take off her shoes. She wanted to feel the ground under her and it somehow felt wrong to have a barrier between her and it. It was kind of them to give her a room. It made her feel like she was expected, though she knew the third room had probably been intended for Aidan. He could have it, for all it mattered. As much as she had gotten used to sleeping in a bed as of late, she certainly didn't require one. Privacy, too, was something she had learned to live without. And yet here it was, offered to her as though it were the basest of human requirements. Cait wouldn't complain.
The first scent of the food coming down the hall brought a smile to her face. Her time living in Morocco had been challenging. She had grown up the poorest of the poor, stealing food from vendors in the grand bazaar, facing beatings from her fellow street kids and the city guards. Then she'd escaped the city with a Bedouin tribe and had lived in the Atlas mountains like a wild goat...among other things. It hadn't been her favourite century. Except for one thing - the food. The rich spices of the region paired with meat and sweet dried fruit - she hadn't experienced anything like it. But now, those familiar spices - with a few new friends - assailed her senses and she found herself viewing the past with some inconceivable amount of fondness. She had gone to the table when the food arrived, murmured a traditional blessing (though likely not of any tribe living in Wakanda) and promptly dug into the meal with her hands.
~~~~~
Cait had tried to stay in the rooms provided while waiting for the Wakandan doctors to finish their assessment of Marshal. She had inspected the tile work, the tapestries, the joinery on the tables...and had migrated out onto the balcony with Aidan. He was immersed in painting everything he could lay his eyes on and she sat and watched him for awhile, his sure, even brush strokes soothing to her anxious heart.
Her feet swung in the air as she sat on the balcony railing, continually tempted to jump down and walk through the streets. If it had just been her, she would have, but what if the Wakandans took her wandering as a threat? An attempt explore an area other than the area they'd been politely, but insistently, placed could easily be misconstrued as an offence. She could be wrong, but she had a feeling that secret cities probably had things they wanted to keep secret - even from guests.
And so it was no small amount of relief when Marshal and Jameson returned. She had spotted them as they moved from the transport to the doorway of their 'hotel' and had happily gone inside to greet them. Marshal looked...worried. He was smiling, sure, but he almost looked more nervous than he had when he'd left in the morning. Something was wrong, but not so wrong as to send her on the rampage. Jameson had seemed fairly relaxed when he'd arrived and surely if they'd refused to treat Marshal, he would have been upset. No, what was bothering Marshal was personal.
And there it was. The timbre of his voice when he talked about being frozen. Cryo? Why would they need to use cryo to help Marshal? Cait decided that she should ask him. His response was something along the lines of them needing more time to be able to heal the damage to his body. More time. Time.
Cait didn't say anything after she asked her question, but stared at the ground with a strange unfocused gaze, almost like she'd forgotten he was there. Just as abruptly, she looked back up at Marshal, the crooked grin on her face and a calculating look in her eye.
"So if time is all you need...do you think I could talk to your doctor? Time is something I kinda have a lot of, as you might recall." Her eyes wandered over to one of the tapestries on the wall depicting some sort of jaguar man and flowers. Maybe. Just maybe.
"I have a feeling that this place with all this technology might also understand a bit about magic. And with any lucky, have a yellow diamond lying around. Marshal, it's just an idea, but I think I'd like to discuss it with the sciencey people here to see if we can turn this idea into a plan." She looked up at him and added, "If that's okay with you. I don't wanna push my way into your treatment, but I think I really can help."
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Marshal Knox
Marshal thought that his talk with Cait had gone very well. He had followed the steps of the "Difficult Conversations With Your Pre-Teen" chapter of his book carefully. He had made sure to:
Tell The Truth.
Remain Calm.
Use Age-Appropriate Language.
Above All, Reassure.
He wasn't surprised when she got quiet; he had expected that to happen. Because the next step was:
Allow Your Child Time To Process.
He allowed her time to process. Then you were supposed to:
Let Your Child Ask Questions.
Which he also did. But that was when the steps fell apart. He wasn't quite prepared for this particular request. Maybe he should excuse himself and go check the book again? But he didn't think this was something the author would address. There weren't many - any? - other children quite like Cait. He was on his own with this part.
"Sure, yeah, if you want to. But only if what you're thinking of doing is safe for you. I don't want you to risk any harm to yourself. It's not worth it. You're too important. And I'm okay. Really. I am."
That was true. He was okay. Sure, he was scared of the immediate future. But he needed to look past that, take a long-term view.
He imagined the life he would have. After.
He would go home. Home was a good place. He would still live with Jameson and Maureen. (And maybe Aidan? Marshal hoped so.) He would help Maureen plant that thing she wanted - a pollinator garden, was it? - in the yard. Marshal didn't know anything about pollinators, but he could learn, and in the meantime he could at least dig the holes. He would find some fun activities to do with Cait, and he would keep practicing the things in the books so he could talk to her more naturally without it feeling so weird and awkward all the time. He would go sign up to be a firefighter, help some people out. He had some ideas for how to add even more enrichment to Fievel's habitat. It would be a good life, all around.
Of course, he would stop with the stupid fantasies about... intimacy, of the amorous kind. He didn't need that stuff. Marshal might be slow on the uptake at times, but he had finally learned his lesson that in that particular area of life, he still didn't get choices. If he tried to say no, it was just going to happen anyway. If he tried to say yes, it merely led to pain. From now on he would keep his head down, try not to get noticed by anyone in that way, and avoid taking on more hurts. And that was okay too.
Marshal was pretty tired after a day of medical tests, but he realized he couldn't exactly just send Cait off to talk to his doctors alone. Safety issues aside - since that probably wasn't a problem here - they weren't going to talk to what they would perceive as some random kid about him. He would need to go with her. Even with Marshal present, he had to do some convincing.
"Please, just listen to whatever she wants. She's not the typical kid."
That got more traction than he would have expected. Upon reflection, these doctors were used to Shuri, who also hadn't been a typical kid in her younger days. A yellow diamond was easy to obtain. There was a great deal of curiosity among the assembled medical team about exactly what Cait had in mind.
Marshal thought that his talk with Cait had gone very well. He had followed the steps of the "Difficult Conversations With Your Pre-Teen" chapter of his book carefully. He had made sure to:
Tell The Truth.
Remain Calm.
Use Age-Appropriate Language.
Above All, Reassure.
He wasn't surprised when she got quiet; he had expected that to happen. Because the next step was:
Allow Your Child Time To Process.
He allowed her time to process. Then you were supposed to:
Let Your Child Ask Questions.
Which he also did. But that was when the steps fell apart. He wasn't quite prepared for this particular request. Maybe he should excuse himself and go check the book again? But he didn't think this was something the author would address. There weren't many - any? - other children quite like Cait. He was on his own with this part.
"Sure, yeah, if you want to. But only if what you're thinking of doing is safe for you. I don't want you to risk any harm to yourself. It's not worth it. You're too important. And I'm okay. Really. I am."
That was true. He was okay. Sure, he was scared of the immediate future. But he needed to look past that, take a long-term view.
He imagined the life he would have. After.
He would go home. Home was a good place. He would still live with Jameson and Maureen. (And maybe Aidan? Marshal hoped so.) He would help Maureen plant that thing she wanted - a pollinator garden, was it? - in the yard. Marshal didn't know anything about pollinators, but he could learn, and in the meantime he could at least dig the holes. He would find some fun activities to do with Cait, and he would keep practicing the things in the books so he could talk to her more naturally without it feeling so weird and awkward all the time. He would go sign up to be a firefighter, help some people out. He had some ideas for how to add even more enrichment to Fievel's habitat. It would be a good life, all around.
Of course, he would stop with the stupid fantasies about... intimacy, of the amorous kind. He didn't need that stuff. Marshal might be slow on the uptake at times, but he had finally learned his lesson that in that particular area of life, he still didn't get choices. If he tried to say no, it was just going to happen anyway. If he tried to say yes, it merely led to pain. From now on he would keep his head down, try not to get noticed by anyone in that way, and avoid taking on more hurts. And that was okay too.
Marshal was pretty tired after a day of medical tests, but he realized he couldn't exactly just send Cait off to talk to his doctors alone. Safety issues aside - since that probably wasn't a problem here - they weren't going to talk to what they would perceive as some random kid about him. He would need to go with her. Even with Marshal present, he had to do some convincing.
"Please, just listen to whatever she wants. She's not the typical kid."
That got more traction than he would have expected. Upon reflection, these doctors were used to Shuri, who also hadn't been a typical kid in her younger days. A yellow diamond was easy to obtain. There was a great deal of curiosity among the assembled medical team about exactly what Cait had in mind.
Re: The Golden City
Cait McIvor
While Cait's confidence generally didn't rely on affirmation of others, but right now, Marshal's future depended on that affirmation from these doctors. It was encouraging that they were willing to listen to a scrawny white kid with dirty feet and a big voice that didn't match the rest of her. They had brought out a yellow diamond with no questions asked. She liked these people.
"So, here's what I have. I am a reliquary for a bunch of ancient magical beings that take life from people. Recently, those magical beings were taken from my sister and I and forced into a large yellow diamond, whereupon a witch used them to harvest life for her own use. I destroyed the diamond with a magic sword and then all those years that the witch had stored in the stone transferred to me. I figure about...twenty-five years worth give or take. Hence the form you see before you."
Cait gestured at herself and wagged her hand over her head to emphasize her height. She was approaching the part where she was significantly less sure of the details. The bean sidhe had whispered things to her, but she knew better than to take anything they said at face value. She also knew better than to piss them off after they'd promised to help. If they thought she was looking a gift horse in the mouth, they'd be insulted and there was no telling what they'd do.
"So here's the part where I think I could help. Well, that we could help. The fae - the ancient beings inside me - are pretty angry about the years they took being stored in a stone. They had been promised a living reliquary and when the witch didn't take the years, she'd twisted the original contract. The fae are very particular about their contracts. It's these years in particular they want to be rid of. Me being younger than my sister - my counterpart in this reliquary business - throws things off time-wise. Another 'breach of contract' if you will. I think - with your help - we could transfer this time to Marshal."
She looked at Marshal, her mouth a determined line which softened into a crooked smile before she turned back toward the doctors.
"Marshal can't become a reliquary, but yellow diamonds can act as a transference device. From what the fae have told me, a bond of blood between the two of us with the gem between should facilitate things. I just...don't know exactly how Marshal's body will receive the time. In fact, I have never done anything like this before. But I feel like the fae genuinely want these years gone and that they're being truthful about the process. We'd just have to go in and be ready for what could happen."
Cait reached for Marshal's hand, wanting to ensure she had his attention.
"This bond of blood will require a cut deep enough to keep the blood flowing. I know you don't want to see me hurt, but this is a pretty small thing in the grand scheme. And honestly, I'll heal up before you do. Being a meta like me has its perks."
She realized that she should explain that last bit for the doctors and turned her head lazily to the side to address them.
"Oh yeah, I'm a mutant. I have accelerated healing and I can take on animal traits. In case you needed to know."
While Cait's confidence generally didn't rely on affirmation of others, but right now, Marshal's future depended on that affirmation from these doctors. It was encouraging that they were willing to listen to a scrawny white kid with dirty feet and a big voice that didn't match the rest of her. They had brought out a yellow diamond with no questions asked. She liked these people.
"So, here's what I have. I am a reliquary for a bunch of ancient magical beings that take life from people. Recently, those magical beings were taken from my sister and I and forced into a large yellow diamond, whereupon a witch used them to harvest life for her own use. I destroyed the diamond with a magic sword and then all those years that the witch had stored in the stone transferred to me. I figure about...twenty-five years worth give or take. Hence the form you see before you."
Cait gestured at herself and wagged her hand over her head to emphasize her height. She was approaching the part where she was significantly less sure of the details. The bean sidhe had whispered things to her, but she knew better than to take anything they said at face value. She also knew better than to piss them off after they'd promised to help. If they thought she was looking a gift horse in the mouth, they'd be insulted and there was no telling what they'd do.
"So here's the part where I think I could help. Well, that we could help. The fae - the ancient beings inside me - are pretty angry about the years they took being stored in a stone. They had been promised a living reliquary and when the witch didn't take the years, she'd twisted the original contract. The fae are very particular about their contracts. It's these years in particular they want to be rid of. Me being younger than my sister - my counterpart in this reliquary business - throws things off time-wise. Another 'breach of contract' if you will. I think - with your help - we could transfer this time to Marshal."
She looked at Marshal, her mouth a determined line which softened into a crooked smile before she turned back toward the doctors.
"Marshal can't become a reliquary, but yellow diamonds can act as a transference device. From what the fae have told me, a bond of blood between the two of us with the gem between should facilitate things. I just...don't know exactly how Marshal's body will receive the time. In fact, I have never done anything like this before. But I feel like the fae genuinely want these years gone and that they're being truthful about the process. We'd just have to go in and be ready for what could happen."
Cait reached for Marshal's hand, wanting to ensure she had his attention.
"This bond of blood will require a cut deep enough to keep the blood flowing. I know you don't want to see me hurt, but this is a pretty small thing in the grand scheme. And honestly, I'll heal up before you do. Being a meta like me has its perks."
She realized that she should explain that last bit for the doctors and turned her head lazily to the side to address them.
"Oh yeah, I'm a mutant. I have accelerated healing and I can take on animal traits. In case you needed to know."
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Marshal Knox
Once again, a conversation about magic was going on and Marshal was out of his depth, so he just let the doctors and Cait talk.
Aside from the brief crash courses Cait had given him, all he knew about the Fae came from his mother's stories. Who knew what of that was made up, and what was true... and what was just his mother being an unreliable narrator, as ever?
Of reliquaries, he knew even less. His mother had taken him to see a relic at a church once when he was little. The finger of a saint, supposedly. Orla Knox wasn't a religious woman generally, but the saint had been important to her for some reason he could no longer recall. She'd been so excited about it. But he'd been scared of the dried up old finger, and she'd been so disappointed when he just plopped down on one of the pews in the transept and stared at a stained glass window of sheep, which had been much more pleasant.
When Cait spoke of the years, Marshal wondered if he was going to become a kid again too. That was a nightmarish thought. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time. Jameson and Maureen would surely agree to take care of him, and they'd do a better job of it than his original childhood. And he'd have at least one friend...
But still, he hoped not.
He also didn't like the thought of Cait having to bleed for him. She'd done so much already. And he seemed to be repaying that with difficulty and pain at every turn. But he could change that. He had to change that. Somehow.
For now, he had to trust her.
The alternative was being frozen again. He could bear that, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to feel the chill again, his chest clogging up with terror and ice, his brain going dark. Of course he didn't. It wasn't just him now, though. He wasn't alone with this anymore. He didn't want Jameson to have to stay here with him, separated from Maureen. He didn't want to miss that much of Fievel's limited time on earth - Fievel, who had saved him when he had nothing else to live for. He wanted to be there for Aidan, to be a mentor like Jameson had said. He didn't want Cait to have to worry about him; maybe he was wrong, but he thought she might worry sometimes.
"Whatever you need," Marshal said. "Thank you, Cait. Thank you for helping me."
He held out his hand, and closed his eyes. That was a trick he'd learned when HYDRA was messing with him; the anticipation of pain was often worse than the pain itself. If he couldn't see it, it wouldn't be as bad. It wasn't the cut he was scared of. That was nothing. He'd been physically hurt so many times that the years just ran together with it. What he was afraid of was what would happen after. The magic stuff. What would happen to him... and to Cait. He squeezed his eyes closed and hoped this would work somehow.
Once again, a conversation about magic was going on and Marshal was out of his depth, so he just let the doctors and Cait talk.
Aside from the brief crash courses Cait had given him, all he knew about the Fae came from his mother's stories. Who knew what of that was made up, and what was true... and what was just his mother being an unreliable narrator, as ever?
Of reliquaries, he knew even less. His mother had taken him to see a relic at a church once when he was little. The finger of a saint, supposedly. Orla Knox wasn't a religious woman generally, but the saint had been important to her for some reason he could no longer recall. She'd been so excited about it. But he'd been scared of the dried up old finger, and she'd been so disappointed when he just plopped down on one of the pews in the transept and stared at a stained glass window of sheep, which had been much more pleasant.
When Cait spoke of the years, Marshal wondered if he was going to become a kid again too. That was a nightmarish thought. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time. Jameson and Maureen would surely agree to take care of him, and they'd do a better job of it than his original childhood. And he'd have at least one friend...
But still, he hoped not.
He also didn't like the thought of Cait having to bleed for him. She'd done so much already. And he seemed to be repaying that with difficulty and pain at every turn. But he could change that. He had to change that. Somehow.
For now, he had to trust her.
The alternative was being frozen again. He could bear that, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to feel the chill again, his chest clogging up with terror and ice, his brain going dark. Of course he didn't. It wasn't just him now, though. He wasn't alone with this anymore. He didn't want Jameson to have to stay here with him, separated from Maureen. He didn't want to miss that much of Fievel's limited time on earth - Fievel, who had saved him when he had nothing else to live for. He wanted to be there for Aidan, to be a mentor like Jameson had said. He didn't want Cait to have to worry about him; maybe he was wrong, but he thought she might worry sometimes.
"Whatever you need," Marshal said. "Thank you, Cait. Thank you for helping me."
He held out his hand, and closed his eyes. That was a trick he'd learned when HYDRA was messing with him; the anticipation of pain was often worse than the pain itself. If he couldn't see it, it wouldn't be as bad. It wasn't the cut he was scared of. That was nothing. He'd been physically hurt so many times that the years just ran together with it. What he was afraid of was what would happen after. The magic stuff. What would happen to him... and to Cait. He squeezed his eyes closed and hoped this would work somehow.
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Doctor Edmund Thompson
Thompson was confused. His soldier had gone to retrieve the sword… and everything had gotten muddled after that.
On the surface, it all seemed straightforward. His soldier was still on the mission. The targets had gone to Wakanda, and the soldier had followed, as he was instructed to do. That was a good thing. Should have been a good thing. But something gnawed at the back of Thompson's mind.
How could the soldier have gotten to Wakanda?
He had no identity, no papers, probably no memory of how to book a commercial flight. Yes, it was good that he had followed his quarry - but how had he managed it?
Thompson had a bad feeling.
Belatedly, he thought to look at records from S.H.I.E.L.D.
This unleashed a tirade of profanity. His soldier had been… treated at a field hospital? That wasn’t supposed to happen. Thompson wiped sweat from his brow as he saw that Mr. Stalwart had ordered the cuts on the soldier's arms and back to be sutured and bandaged. It wouldn’t take long before he healed enough that it would be difficult to get him back under control.
Well, off to the detention to fish him out before all that hard work went to waste. And hopefully before they figured out that the cuts were more than just fanciful artistic nonsense.
At that point, Thompson got his second unpleasant surprise. The soldier was already gone. He had been signed out of S.H.I.E.L.D. custody by… Stalwart? The person whose house the soldier had been breaking into? What? Why? It made no sense.
The third nasty surprise was the worst. Combing through the medical records in search of a clue about what the hell Stalwart thought he was doing, Thompson came across a routine notation that the soldier had received a donation of blood from both Bryant and Knox.
A donation of blood. From a superhero and a super soldier. Now running through his magical project's veins.
Thompson abruptly threw his phone across the room. It struck the wall with a clatter. Thompson didn’t care.
Those idiots have no idea what they’ve unleashed…
Thompson was confused. His soldier had gone to retrieve the sword… and everything had gotten muddled after that.
On the surface, it all seemed straightforward. His soldier was still on the mission. The targets had gone to Wakanda, and the soldier had followed, as he was instructed to do. That was a good thing. Should have been a good thing. But something gnawed at the back of Thompson's mind.
How could the soldier have gotten to Wakanda?
He had no identity, no papers, probably no memory of how to book a commercial flight. Yes, it was good that he had followed his quarry - but how had he managed it?
Thompson had a bad feeling.
Belatedly, he thought to look at records from S.H.I.E.L.D.
This unleashed a tirade of profanity. His soldier had been… treated at a field hospital? That wasn’t supposed to happen. Thompson wiped sweat from his brow as he saw that Mr. Stalwart had ordered the cuts on the soldier's arms and back to be sutured and bandaged. It wouldn’t take long before he healed enough that it would be difficult to get him back under control.
Well, off to the detention to fish him out before all that hard work went to waste. And hopefully before they figured out that the cuts were more than just fanciful artistic nonsense.
At that point, Thompson got his second unpleasant surprise. The soldier was already gone. He had been signed out of S.H.I.E.L.D. custody by… Stalwart? The person whose house the soldier had been breaking into? What? Why? It made no sense.
The third nasty surprise was the worst. Combing through the medical records in search of a clue about what the hell Stalwart thought he was doing, Thompson came across a routine notation that the soldier had received a donation of blood from both Bryant and Knox.
A donation of blood. From a superhero and a super soldier. Now running through his magical project's veins.
Thompson abruptly threw his phone across the room. It struck the wall with a clatter. Thompson didn’t care.
Those idiots have no idea what they’ve unleashed…
Re: The Golden City
Cait McIvor
After some deliberation amongst the medical staff, there was an agreement that the method should at least be tried prior to the actual medical treatment. If it didn't work, they'd need to prep the cryo chamber instead. It made sense for them to be cautious and it set Cait's mind at ease as well. She requested a gown, assuming that it was going to work meaning that she'd be growing a bit too much for the borrowed clothes from Charis to manage.
She sat on a chair near Marshal, holding the diamond in her left hand as medical staff cut into their hands with a scalpel. Cait didn't react to the pain, smiling up at Marshal's face even though his eyes were shut and he couldn't see her. He was a sweet man. She never took her eyes off him even as she pressed the diamond into her palm and it into the wound in Marshal's own hand.
A stream of words in a long-forgotten language flowed from her lips, her eyes glazing over as a faint golden glow encapsulated her. The fae had taught her the words and now moved to send time to the one connected to their reliquary as though they were red blood cells transporting oxygen to a gasping muscle.
Cait had to forcibly remove her hand to halt the transfer. She squeezed her eyes shut and wiped at them with he left hand, trying to restart her vision. Before she removed her hand, she spoke.
"So, did it work, Marshal?"
After some deliberation amongst the medical staff, there was an agreement that the method should at least be tried prior to the actual medical treatment. If it didn't work, they'd need to prep the cryo chamber instead. It made sense for them to be cautious and it set Cait's mind at ease as well. She requested a gown, assuming that it was going to work meaning that she'd be growing a bit too much for the borrowed clothes from Charis to manage.
She sat on a chair near Marshal, holding the diamond in her left hand as medical staff cut into their hands with a scalpel. Cait didn't react to the pain, smiling up at Marshal's face even though his eyes were shut and he couldn't see her. He was a sweet man. She never took her eyes off him even as she pressed the diamond into her palm and it into the wound in Marshal's own hand.
A stream of words in a long-forgotten language flowed from her lips, her eyes glazing over as a faint golden glow encapsulated her. The fae had taught her the words and now moved to send time to the one connected to their reliquary as though they were red blood cells transporting oxygen to a gasping muscle.
Cait had to forcibly remove her hand to halt the transfer. She squeezed her eyes shut and wiped at them with he left hand, trying to restart her vision. Before she removed her hand, she spoke.
"So, did it work, Marshal?"
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 819
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Marshal Knox
Marshal screwed one eye open.
Did it work?
He wasn't sure. He didn't feel different. But he'd spent so much time trying to shut down every sensation and dissociate his mind from his body that he wasn't entirely sure how to feel it anymore. He started taking a mental inventory of all his systems - but almost immediately got distracted by Cait.
"You look older," he said. Stupidly.
Fortunately Shuri - who had been summoned as if from thin air by the possibility of an interesting medical procedure - stepped in to speak for him.
"Yes, it worked," Shuri said, making no attempt to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. "All of his vitals are significantly more stable. We should begin at once, while we have this window of opportunity. We will need to inject the new serum - please don't look so alarmed, Marshal, it will only affect your body, not your mind. We cannot simply render your physiology... ordinary. But our serum will repair the damage. I'm confident. If we may proceed?"
"Yeah," Marshal said. "I'm ready. I wanna live."
He tried to keep his eyes on Cait this time, hoping to reassure her, but his smile became a grimace as the injected fluid started burning through his veins. His eyes squeezed shut of their own accord as every muscle tensed... almost every muscle. He focused all his force of will on keeping one hand loose and relaxed - the one that held Cait's, so he wouldn’t squeeze too hard and hurt her.
That proved a surprisingly effective distraction, and before long it was over. He was winded and sore. But it was over.
"Congratulations, Mr. Knox," he heard Shuri say. "You survived. Your body is repaired. Go now and rest. In the morning, we will repair your mind."
"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you all."
He opened his eyes. There was Cait. More or less the way he remembered her.
For an instant, he felt that familiar surge of awe and longing - but he immediately stomped it down and locked it away with all the other feelings too painful to examine. Maybe if he’d met her before HYDRA ruined him, it could have been different, but that was a moot point.
Keep your bloodstained hands to yourself.
No, seriously. Hands to yourself.
Now.
He hastily released the hand he was still clinging to.
"Looks like you saved my butt again," he said with a crooked smile. "Thanks."
He was so glad to have her as a friend. And as an adult friend again... well, he was relieved. He could set the guilt aside. He could just talk to her like normal, not weighing every word. He could relax.
"Oh, and it looks like I'm not going to have to tackle that Difficult Conversations With Your Pre-Teen, Part Two chapter just yet. Memorizing Part One was enough of a challenge for this feeble old brain."
He gestured vaguely at her with his chin, indicating her freshly adult form. Hopefully she was happy with it too - or at least okay with passing up another crack at a childhood in order to save him. If not, that would be one more debt he owed.
"You, though? With all that? Impressive as always. Just saying. I'm so lucky you decided to be my friend."
Marshal screwed one eye open.
Did it work?
He wasn't sure. He didn't feel different. But he'd spent so much time trying to shut down every sensation and dissociate his mind from his body that he wasn't entirely sure how to feel it anymore. He started taking a mental inventory of all his systems - but almost immediately got distracted by Cait.
"You look older," he said. Stupidly.
Fortunately Shuri - who had been summoned as if from thin air by the possibility of an interesting medical procedure - stepped in to speak for him.
"Yes, it worked," Shuri said, making no attempt to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. "All of his vitals are significantly more stable. We should begin at once, while we have this window of opportunity. We will need to inject the new serum - please don't look so alarmed, Marshal, it will only affect your body, not your mind. We cannot simply render your physiology... ordinary. But our serum will repair the damage. I'm confident. If we may proceed?"
"Yeah," Marshal said. "I'm ready. I wanna live."
He tried to keep his eyes on Cait this time, hoping to reassure her, but his smile became a grimace as the injected fluid started burning through his veins. His eyes squeezed shut of their own accord as every muscle tensed... almost every muscle. He focused all his force of will on keeping one hand loose and relaxed - the one that held Cait's, so he wouldn’t squeeze too hard and hurt her.
That proved a surprisingly effective distraction, and before long it was over. He was winded and sore. But it was over.
"Congratulations, Mr. Knox," he heard Shuri say. "You survived. Your body is repaired. Go now and rest. In the morning, we will repair your mind."
"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you all."
He opened his eyes. There was Cait. More or less the way he remembered her.
For an instant, he felt that familiar surge of awe and longing - but he immediately stomped it down and locked it away with all the other feelings too painful to examine. Maybe if he’d met her before HYDRA ruined him, it could have been different, but that was a moot point.
Keep your bloodstained hands to yourself.
No, seriously. Hands to yourself.
Now.
He hastily released the hand he was still clinging to.
"Looks like you saved my butt again," he said with a crooked smile. "Thanks."
He was so glad to have her as a friend. And as an adult friend again... well, he was relieved. He could set the guilt aside. He could just talk to her like normal, not weighing every word. He could relax.
"Oh, and it looks like I'm not going to have to tackle that Difficult Conversations With Your Pre-Teen, Part Two chapter just yet. Memorizing Part One was enough of a challenge for this feeble old brain."
He gestured vaguely at her with his chin, indicating her freshly adult form. Hopefully she was happy with it too - or at least okay with passing up another crack at a childhood in order to save him. If not, that would be one more debt he owed.
"You, though? With all that? Impressive as always. Just saying. I'm so lucky you decided to be my friend."