Cait McIvor
"I wanna live."
Those words echoed in Cait's mind and brought a smile to her lips. Marshal had come a long way in a few short days. Amazing what finding a brother you never knew you had could do for someone teetering on the brink of hopelessness. It wasn't just that Jameson was a brother in name, of course, it was that he had stepped in and actually behaved like one. Lucky Marshal.
Of course, there was still a long road ahead of him. Cait's brow pinched together as she watched the pain travel through his body until she had to close her eyes to focus on the flow of time between the two of them. She had to concentrate to keep the fae from dumping any unwanted memories into the timestream. She was used to the extra 'company' in her head, Marshal wasn't. It wouldn't do to curse him as she was facilitating curing him.
And so, it was with a small amount of surprise that she realized it was over and done with. She wouldn't have noticed except that Marshal dropped her hand. A clear signal. Still, her head buzzed with residual echoes and her body ached - the latter was good, she supposed. She glanced down at herself, smiled, then raised her head to meet Marshal's gaze. It was nice to not have to look up as far. Something there worried her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. At the moment, she was satisfied to just be happy that he was going to survive.
"You really bought a book? Can I borrow it? I'm rubbish at talking to my niece and nephew." She was chuckling, but there was nothing malicious in it. Cait thought it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. Marshal was full of surprises. He'd just showed her the incredible level of intent he had in maintaining a relationship even when she was visually a child and she...she loved him for it.
That was a sudden realization and Cait didn't dismiss it so much as set it aside for now. She needed a moment to look at her feelings on her own, but in the meantime she'd keep her emotions open. Unlike her sister, she didn't fear them.
"Aw, it's no big deal - the fae wanted to get of some time and I must say I am very pleased to be fun-sized again. Being a kid is the worst, honestly. Just glad I could be of assistance." She bumped his shoulder as they walked back to their lodgings. "And the feeling's mutual."
The Golden City
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 829
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Marshal Knox and Jameson Bryant
Marshal self-consciously rubbed his neck in a gesture of pure awkwardness and replied, "Uh. Three books, actually. I wanted to be prepared. So I could do the right things for you."
He appreciated the shoulder bump. It was good to be friends.
Back at the guest house, Jameson immediately asked how things had gone.
“So, they don’t have to freeze me after all…”
For just a split second, Marshal worried that might not be good news. That upon reflection, Jameson might want a few months off from taking care of him.
But a look at his brother’s face quickly put that worry to rest. Jameson was elated. He wrapped Marshal in a bear hug. “That’s good. That’s so good. I’m glad. I was really gonna miss you. You're going to be okay?"
"Yeah, I'm going to be okay. Cait's idea worked. They fixed my body. They're going to do my brain in the morning."
The brain stuff made Marshal a lot more nervous. Having his mind messed with was much worse than harm to his body. More than he feared pain, or death, or torture - he feared becoming a killer again. It was hard to separate that from what was going to happen tomorrow. He had to, though. This was the only way to be free. He needed that so desperately. He needed to get the ticking timebomb out of his head.
"Thank you, Cait," Jameson said. "I'm sure Marshal said thank you already, but... thanks from me too. I didn't know what I was gonna do without him. I'm glad we get to keep him with us. Where he belongs."
Marshal really did feel like he belonged. The others seemed to agree with Jameson, if their response was any indication. Maureen wrapped her arm around Marshal, and rested her head against his shoulder. Even Aidan smiled at him.
As they sat down to eat, it struck Marshal how well Aidan was doing, freshly escaped from such an ordeal. Aidan clearly didn't like being touched - so they didn't - but he seemed to enjoy their presence. He didn't talk much, but he would sit with them for meals now without prompting, even if he just ate in silence. He was enthusiastically throwing himself back into his art. It was a lot, under the circumstances. And Marshal was glad.
It was a good evening. A good meal. Everyone seemed in better spirits. Marshal was almost able to shove his fear of the brain stuff aside and be completely happy in the moment.
But... well, there was one other difficulty. Marshal's intellectual, rational self knew how he was supposed to view Cait. A friend. A good friend, of course, but... a friend. A neighbor. He knew that. And he didn't understand why the rest of him wasn't cooperating. The way she moved. The way she smiled. The way she made him laugh. The way her hair brushed her freckled forehead...
Okay. Apparently this is still a problem.
One he needed to get a handle on, preferably before she noticed. He needed her friendship. He was not going to ruin it.
Maybe he should go take a cold shower. That was what people in movies and books did when they couldn’t control their lust, wasn't it?
The cold shower proved to be a severe miscalculation.
As the frigid water struck his bare skin, his brain lost the ability to distinguish between the present and the past. He once again felt the icy blast from the hose stinging against his unprotected flesh, no way to hide, the HYDRA torments returning in full force as he cowered in the corner of the fancy Wakandan bathroom, sobbing and shaking, trying to catch his breath…
“Marshal? Are you okay?”
Jameson. Marshal knew the correct response would be that he was fine, but he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen in his lungs to say anything at all.
“Can I open the door and make sure you're alright?”
“Just you?”
“Yeah, just me.”
“Okay.”
There weren't many people he would allow to see him crying naked in the corner - well, actually probably just this one. But Jameson wouldn't judge.
Jameson opened the door just enough to slip inside. He briefly took in the scene, then turned off the water, grabbed Marshal’s bathrobe, knelt beside him, and wrapped it around him.
“Sorry if I bothered you...” Marshal murmured.
“You aren’t bothering me.” Jameson indeed showed no hesitation to sit on the bathroom floor indefinitely, holding robe-wrapped Marshal close as Marshal tried to get the shivering and shaking under control. If Jameson noticed that the knees of his jeans were now wet from the floor or that Marshal’s hair was dripping on his shirt, he gave no indication.
“I forgot where I am,” Marshal said sheepishly.
“Understandable. You’re freezing.” Jameson rubbed Marshal’s shoulders, trying to warm him up. “Did we run out of hot water or something?”
“No, it was… it’s embarrassing. I thought I should take a cold shower. To… uh… calm down. And stop thinking about Cait.”
“About Cait? She turned you down? Sorry, man. I’m kind of surprised too - based on tonight, I would have thought she was into you.”
“No. She didn’t turn me down. And I think maybe she is. But I can’t.”
“Why not? You don’t want to?”
Marshal shrugged. But then suddenly, it all came pouring out. The whole sordid story. What happened before. Their flirtation. What came next. His shame. The things he thought he could never talk about to anyone. He kept expecting Jameson to turn away in disgust. But Jameson didn’t - yet again. Maybe that wasn’t a thing Jameson did?
Jameson just frowned thoughtfully. “But she’s not a kid anymore. She’s not upset or scared. She didn’t blame you, you said. So why can’t you…?”
“Correction with painful stimuli. That’s what happens when you try to do things that aren’t allowed. When you try to make choices. Pain. Punishment.”
“Oh, Marshal. I don’t think that was a punishment. What happened wasn’t your fault. Or Cait’s. It was no one’s fault.”
“It hurt so much. I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I know. But things can change. Don’t you think things can change? Your life has changed so much already.”
“Hm. Yeah. Maybe.”
“Just think about it, okay? About things changing. What happened before doesn’t always have to happen again.”
Marshal did indeed ponder this. And Jameson was right. Things could change. From years as a brainwashed, tortured HYDRA asset to… this. This bathroom floor where his brother was hugging him.
“Okay. And Jameson? I do love you. It’s not hard for me to say that anymore.”
Jameson smiled. “I love you too. My dear, dear brother. I think there are even better days ahead for you.”
Marshal self-consciously rubbed his neck in a gesture of pure awkwardness and replied, "Uh. Three books, actually. I wanted to be prepared. So I could do the right things for you."
He appreciated the shoulder bump. It was good to be friends.
Back at the guest house, Jameson immediately asked how things had gone.
“So, they don’t have to freeze me after all…”
For just a split second, Marshal worried that might not be good news. That upon reflection, Jameson might want a few months off from taking care of him.
But a look at his brother’s face quickly put that worry to rest. Jameson was elated. He wrapped Marshal in a bear hug. “That’s good. That’s so good. I’m glad. I was really gonna miss you. You're going to be okay?"
"Yeah, I'm going to be okay. Cait's idea worked. They fixed my body. They're going to do my brain in the morning."
The brain stuff made Marshal a lot more nervous. Having his mind messed with was much worse than harm to his body. More than he feared pain, or death, or torture - he feared becoming a killer again. It was hard to separate that from what was going to happen tomorrow. He had to, though. This was the only way to be free. He needed that so desperately. He needed to get the ticking timebomb out of his head.
"Thank you, Cait," Jameson said. "I'm sure Marshal said thank you already, but... thanks from me too. I didn't know what I was gonna do without him. I'm glad we get to keep him with us. Where he belongs."
Marshal really did feel like he belonged. The others seemed to agree with Jameson, if their response was any indication. Maureen wrapped her arm around Marshal, and rested her head against his shoulder. Even Aidan smiled at him.
As they sat down to eat, it struck Marshal how well Aidan was doing, freshly escaped from such an ordeal. Aidan clearly didn't like being touched - so they didn't - but he seemed to enjoy their presence. He didn't talk much, but he would sit with them for meals now without prompting, even if he just ate in silence. He was enthusiastically throwing himself back into his art. It was a lot, under the circumstances. And Marshal was glad.
It was a good evening. A good meal. Everyone seemed in better spirits. Marshal was almost able to shove his fear of the brain stuff aside and be completely happy in the moment.
But... well, there was one other difficulty. Marshal's intellectual, rational self knew how he was supposed to view Cait. A friend. A good friend, of course, but... a friend. A neighbor. He knew that. And he didn't understand why the rest of him wasn't cooperating. The way she moved. The way she smiled. The way she made him laugh. The way her hair brushed her freckled forehead...
Okay. Apparently this is still a problem.
One he needed to get a handle on, preferably before she noticed. He needed her friendship. He was not going to ruin it.
Maybe he should go take a cold shower. That was what people in movies and books did when they couldn’t control their lust, wasn't it?
The cold shower proved to be a severe miscalculation.
As the frigid water struck his bare skin, his brain lost the ability to distinguish between the present and the past. He once again felt the icy blast from the hose stinging against his unprotected flesh, no way to hide, the HYDRA torments returning in full force as he cowered in the corner of the fancy Wakandan bathroom, sobbing and shaking, trying to catch his breath…
“Marshal? Are you okay?”
Jameson. Marshal knew the correct response would be that he was fine, but he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen in his lungs to say anything at all.
“Can I open the door and make sure you're alright?”
“Just you?”
“Yeah, just me.”
“Okay.”
There weren't many people he would allow to see him crying naked in the corner - well, actually probably just this one. But Jameson wouldn't judge.
Jameson opened the door just enough to slip inside. He briefly took in the scene, then turned off the water, grabbed Marshal’s bathrobe, knelt beside him, and wrapped it around him.
“Sorry if I bothered you...” Marshal murmured.
“You aren’t bothering me.” Jameson indeed showed no hesitation to sit on the bathroom floor indefinitely, holding robe-wrapped Marshal close as Marshal tried to get the shivering and shaking under control. If Jameson noticed that the knees of his jeans were now wet from the floor or that Marshal’s hair was dripping on his shirt, he gave no indication.
“I forgot where I am,” Marshal said sheepishly.
“Understandable. You’re freezing.” Jameson rubbed Marshal’s shoulders, trying to warm him up. “Did we run out of hot water or something?”
“No, it was… it’s embarrassing. I thought I should take a cold shower. To… uh… calm down. And stop thinking about Cait.”
“About Cait? She turned you down? Sorry, man. I’m kind of surprised too - based on tonight, I would have thought she was into you.”
“No. She didn’t turn me down. And I think maybe she is. But I can’t.”
“Why not? You don’t want to?”
Marshal shrugged. But then suddenly, it all came pouring out. The whole sordid story. What happened before. Their flirtation. What came next. His shame. The things he thought he could never talk about to anyone. He kept expecting Jameson to turn away in disgust. But Jameson didn’t - yet again. Maybe that wasn’t a thing Jameson did?
Jameson just frowned thoughtfully. “But she’s not a kid anymore. She’s not upset or scared. She didn’t blame you, you said. So why can’t you…?”
“Correction with painful stimuli. That’s what happens when you try to do things that aren’t allowed. When you try to make choices. Pain. Punishment.”
“Oh, Marshal. I don’t think that was a punishment. What happened wasn’t your fault. Or Cait’s. It was no one’s fault.”
“It hurt so much. I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I know. But things can change. Don’t you think things can change? Your life has changed so much already.”
“Hm. Yeah. Maybe.”
“Just think about it, okay? About things changing. What happened before doesn’t always have to happen again.”
Marshal did indeed ponder this. And Jameson was right. Things could change. From years as a brainwashed, tortured HYDRA asset to… this. This bathroom floor where his brother was hugging him.
“Okay. And Jameson? I do love you. It’s not hard for me to say that anymore.”
Jameson smiled. “I love you too. My dear, dear brother. I think there are even better days ahead for you.”
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 829
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Aidan Millican and Jameson Bryant
A few minutes later, Marshal was safely ensconced in his room changing into his pajamas, and Jameson was emerging from the bathroom with an armful of damp towels he had used to soak up the water on the floor.
Aidan gave Jameson a questioning look.
"Trauma sucks," Jameson said.
"Yes. It surely does," Aidan agreed. He asked no follow-up questions. That statement had told him all he needed to know. For a moment, he was silent. Then...
"You know I don't have any money, right?" Aidan asked Jameson with forced casualness.
"Uh. Yeah, I know," Jameson replied. "Why? Do you need something?"
Aidan's expression became slightly incredulous. He shook his head and gestured vaguely around him. The suite. The balcony. "No. Just. Paying for all this. I didn't want you to think... to expect I could pay my share..."
"Oh. No. Don't worry about that. We're guests here. We don't have to pay for this. Even if we did, we wouldn't ask for money from you. We know your situation."
"Okay. Thanks. When we get back, I need to get a job."
Now it was Jameson's turn to be a little incredulous, though his tone also radiated concern. "A job? Right now? Are you sure? I mean, it's your choice. It's your life. But are you sure that's a good idea? The person who hurt you is still out there looking for you..."
"I don't have any money." There was a hint of panic in Aidan's voice now. "I remember now. My apartment. But I haven't paid rent in a long time - I'm sure someone else lives there now. I need to start making money right away. Or I'll be homeless. Or I'll starve."
"Oh. Hey. No. Don't worry about that. You aren't going to be homeless. You aren't going to starve. That bedroom you stayed in at our house? That's yours. For as long as you want it. We have plenty of food. You don't need to stress about any of this. We'll help you out. Like I said, it's your choice. But my advice would be to give yourself some time. For now, can't you just... rest, and heal, and paint? I really think that's enough."
Aidan's expression was inscrutable. "Until you find him. Until I can lead you to... to Thompson."
"No, that's not what I meant. This offer doesn't have a time limit. It has nothing to do with him. He doesn't control your life anymore. You can stay as long as you want."
"Indefinitely."
"Yes."
Aidan had to process this for a moment. Something for nothing. Safety. Comfort. Indefinitely. That couldn't be real. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. "I don't think I can just... do that. Giving nothing in return."
"Okay. I had an idea about that, then."
"Fight for you instead." It wasn't a question.
But to Aidan's surprise, Jameson shook his head. "Nah. That isn't what I have in mind. You've seen the house - what do you think about how it's decorated?"
Aidan was startled by the question, then looked very slightly amused. "My honest opinion?"
"Please."
"Pretty boring. Lots of plain white walls. Too many blank spaces."
"Yes. Exactly. I agree. That's what I hoped you would help with."
"With... decorating your house?"
"Sure. Why not? You're the artist. And then it wouldn't be just our house anymore, would it? If you helped, that would make it your house too. You'd have a stake in it. Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah. I... guess I would. Yeah. I can. Thanks."
Jameson thought he saw Aidan's shoulders visibly relax just a bit. He didn't know yet that he had just offered Aidan the first real home he'd had since his parents died, way back in distant memory. And why 'Indefinitely' sounded so good.
A few minutes later, Marshal was safely ensconced in his room changing into his pajamas, and Jameson was emerging from the bathroom with an armful of damp towels he had used to soak up the water on the floor.
Aidan gave Jameson a questioning look.
"Trauma sucks," Jameson said.
"Yes. It surely does," Aidan agreed. He asked no follow-up questions. That statement had told him all he needed to know. For a moment, he was silent. Then...
"You know I don't have any money, right?" Aidan asked Jameson with forced casualness.
"Uh. Yeah, I know," Jameson replied. "Why? Do you need something?"
Aidan's expression became slightly incredulous. He shook his head and gestured vaguely around him. The suite. The balcony. "No. Just. Paying for all this. I didn't want you to think... to expect I could pay my share..."
"Oh. No. Don't worry about that. We're guests here. We don't have to pay for this. Even if we did, we wouldn't ask for money from you. We know your situation."
"Okay. Thanks. When we get back, I need to get a job."
Now it was Jameson's turn to be a little incredulous, though his tone also radiated concern. "A job? Right now? Are you sure? I mean, it's your choice. It's your life. But are you sure that's a good idea? The person who hurt you is still out there looking for you..."
"I don't have any money." There was a hint of panic in Aidan's voice now. "I remember now. My apartment. But I haven't paid rent in a long time - I'm sure someone else lives there now. I need to start making money right away. Or I'll be homeless. Or I'll starve."
"Oh. Hey. No. Don't worry about that. You aren't going to be homeless. You aren't going to starve. That bedroom you stayed in at our house? That's yours. For as long as you want it. We have plenty of food. You don't need to stress about any of this. We'll help you out. Like I said, it's your choice. But my advice would be to give yourself some time. For now, can't you just... rest, and heal, and paint? I really think that's enough."
Aidan's expression was inscrutable. "Until you find him. Until I can lead you to... to Thompson."
"No, that's not what I meant. This offer doesn't have a time limit. It has nothing to do with him. He doesn't control your life anymore. You can stay as long as you want."
"Indefinitely."
"Yes."
Aidan had to process this for a moment. Something for nothing. Safety. Comfort. Indefinitely. That couldn't be real. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. "I don't think I can just... do that. Giving nothing in return."
"Okay. I had an idea about that, then."
"Fight for you instead." It wasn't a question.
But to Aidan's surprise, Jameson shook his head. "Nah. That isn't what I have in mind. You've seen the house - what do you think about how it's decorated?"
Aidan was startled by the question, then looked very slightly amused. "My honest opinion?"
"Please."
"Pretty boring. Lots of plain white walls. Too many blank spaces."
"Yes. Exactly. I agree. That's what I hoped you would help with."
"With... decorating your house?"
"Sure. Why not? You're the artist. And then it wouldn't be just our house anymore, would it? If you helped, that would make it your house too. You'd have a stake in it. Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah. I... guess I would. Yeah. I can. Thanks."
Jameson thought he saw Aidan's shoulders visibly relax just a bit. He didn't know yet that he had just offered Aidan the first real home he'd had since his parents died, way back in distant memory. And why 'Indefinitely' sounded so good.
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 829
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Marshal Knox
Marshal couldn't sleep. He was tired - exhausted, even - but the prospect of Brain Stuff Day tomorrow had him too keyed up. Back home he would have paced to release some nervous energy, but in the much smaller space of the guest house, he wasn't confident he could do that without waking someone else up. Someone who would undoubtedly come check on him. He didn't want to turn Marshal's Difficulty Sleeping into Everybody's Difficulty Sleeping.
So he lay awake in the darkness, listening to the soft sound of Aidan's breathing - a comforting sound, both because it was so rhythmic and because it was tangible reassurance that the person they were determined to keep safe remained so. Marshal wished he had brought something to read that was more distracting than the (now far less pressing) child development books. Fiction, maybe.
Eventually, he did drift off. His sleep was fitful, with frequent jolts to wakefulness and punctuated by the usual nightmares. So, could have been worse.
In the morning, he was practically vibrating with nervous energy, some of which he tried to dissipate by setting out the breakfast things once a reasonable hour had arrived and people were starting to emerge into the common area. The time somehow seemed to pass both agonizingly slowly and in the blink of an eye, all at the same time.
Then, the moment had come.
Brain Stuff was not going to take place in the same facility where he'd been receiving medical treatment so far. Brain Stuff was too dangerous to do in the city. If it went wrong - if he went crazy and turned into a killing machine - it had to happen far away, where there weren't so many people to hurt. That meant a journey to what appeared to be a remote village... but that had a state-of-the-art, if small, medical facility.
"Are you ready?" Shuri asked.
"I think so. I mean... yes. Yes, I am."
Marshal leaned back on the hospital bed. The others couldn't be in the room with him; the procedure was too delicate. He knew they were there, though, watching through a pane of thick glass that served as an observation window. That was a comforting thought. He closed his eyes.
Closing his eyes wasn't enough. As soon as he felt the device coming near his forehead, he started hyperventilating.
"Marshal? Are you alright?"
Marshal gritted his teeth. "I'm okay. Please just do it. Please."
"Do you want to sit up so you can see them?"
Marshal's eyes popped open. He nodded, and Shuri adjusted the bed so he was in a seated position instead of lying down. He could see them now. His people. Jameson, Maureen, Aidan, Cait. That was better. He smiled at them and gave a little wave. Then he let Shuri try again, and this time, he was able to accept the device around his head. Unlike with the chair he'd been forced into by HYDRA - and then coerced into by Ginny - there was no pain. The room faded to black.
***
...An elderly woman was making cookies, rolling dough rhythmically on a floured countertop with a rolling pin. Marshal sat on a kitchen chair, his short child legs not reaching to the floor, and watched. His grandmother? She looked so tired...
...In a garage. A car on the lift. A toolbox on the neat workbench. There was a small dark stain on the floor. The strongest impression, though, was the smell of the place...
...Marshal had lined up the toy soldiers carefully in a pretend battle, forty on each side. It had taken an hour to get the scene just right. Why was his mother yelling at him, calling him a violent little monster? Why had she bought him the toy soldiers in the first place, if he wasn't supposed to play with them?...
...They were in a church. They didn't go to church, normally, but there was something here his mother wanted to see. A relic? A relic query? Marshal didn't want to look. The dried out old relic was scary. He huddled on a pew in the side nook, staring at a stained glass window instead. The window depicted sheep. He liked sheep...
...It was the year he was in kindergarten. He lay on the sofa, pressing his face against the faded and worn faux velvet, pressing his hands to his belly, wishing the pain would stop. His mother would eventually take him to the doctor, and he would learn the word 'appendix.' For now, she was keeping up a steady litany of complaints about how sniveling and whiny he was and how much trouble he was causing her...
...He didn't usually feel like he knew his mother. But every now and then, he caught a glimpse. Like the little notes she left along the edges of the typed words in her books...
...It was almost time. He was waiting. For what? It seemed like the waiting would never end. Oh, yeah. He was waiting for happiness...
..."It's bad luck." "It's just a number." "A bad luck number." "Well, I like it." Because someone should like it. Because nothing should be unloved...
...The wind whistled. Rain pounded against the house, against the boards that had been hastily nailed across the windows. Now and then, he heard a sound like a tree limb breaking. The house itself seemed to groan. It was scary. But it was kind of thrilling, too...
...His mother's back was to him, but he could see the reflection of her face in the mirror. Her angular features. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves as she brushed it. He felt like he always saw her only reflected in a mirror...
***
Marshal woke up alone in a hut. He stepped outside, into the heat of the Wakandan sun. He put up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare. It was only then that he realized someone else was here.
An old man. An old white man? That wasn't who he expected to meet. As he stepped closer, he recognized the features.
It was him. An older version of himself.
"Are you me?" Marshal asked.
Old Marshal nodded.
"Did I get cured?"
Old Marshal nodded again.
"What's going to happen to me? In the future, I mean?"
This time, Old Marshal shook his head. "Too broad. We have little time. You need to move on. Ask one question before you leave, if you wish."
Marshal drew in his breath, trying to decide what question - besides the cure - was the most critical. "Does Jameson get tired of me someday?"
"No. Your brother will love you fiercely for the rest of his days."
Marshal decided to risk a prohibited second question. "Are you really me from the future?"
This actually made Old Marshal smile. "No. I'm your own brain. I'm only telling you what, deep down, you already know."
***
He woke up in a hut.
For real this time.
But he wasn't alone.
A Dora Milaje warrior was staring at him intently.
"Did it work?" Marshal asked. "And uh... what is your name?"
"Ayo. And we shall see. Are you ready?"
Would he ever be ready? Marshal nodded.
"Careworn."
Nothing.
"Oil."
Nothing.
"Eighty."
Nothing.
"Transept."
Nothing.
"Five."
Nothing.
"Marginalia."
Nothing.
"Anticipated."
Nothing.
"Thirteen."
Nothing.
"Hurricane."
Nothing.
"Visage."
Nothing.
"Soldier?"
"I'm not their soldier anymore."
Ayo's expression didn't change, but Marshal thought he felt an emotion radiate. Approval. "Well then, Marshal Knox. It seems you are a free man. The claws of the beast have been pried out of your memories."
Marshal dropped to his knees. His forehead dipped, touched the ground. He remained there as if he was kissing the very soil. The Wakandan soil where he had been freed. The soil was getting wet. Because tears were dripping from his eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered, over and over. "Thank you, thank you..."
***
Then the time for tears was over. It was time for hugs and celebration with his waiting loved ones. He was happy. Buoyant. Practically walking on air. He was free. What could touch him now?
They would journey back to the city the next day. For tonight, they were given huts in the village - surprisingly luxurious and comfortable ones, not like the simple dirt-floored dwelling where he'd woken up.
Marshal was still utterly ebullient and not ready to to sleep right away, so he walked, stretching his limbs, exploring. Free. He wondered if Cait was still awake. He knocked softly on her door - not wanting to wake her if she'd gone to bed - but she was still up.
"Hey Cait. Can I show you something? It's really cool. Oh, and you might want a jacket. The air's a little chilly."
Marshal indeed had a blanket loosely draped around his shoulders, but he scarcely seemed to notice the night air he'd cautioned her about. He led her up the slope of a ridge, through some scrubby trees, till they emerged in the open at the top.
"Here. Right here. Look up."
The night sky above them blazed with the brilliant light of stars, set in the black velvet of darkness. They could see from horizon to horizon in all directions from here.
"I've never seen them this bright before. I've always been in places with more light in the nighttime. I wish I knew the names of the constellations. Aren't they beautiful? Oh, look - a shooting star. Make a wish, Cait!"
The instruction to do so was reflexive - Marshal himself didn't make one. It didn't occur to him that he ought to. He was free. He was happy. What more could he possibly want?
Marshal couldn't sleep. He was tired - exhausted, even - but the prospect of Brain Stuff Day tomorrow had him too keyed up. Back home he would have paced to release some nervous energy, but in the much smaller space of the guest house, he wasn't confident he could do that without waking someone else up. Someone who would undoubtedly come check on him. He didn't want to turn Marshal's Difficulty Sleeping into Everybody's Difficulty Sleeping.
So he lay awake in the darkness, listening to the soft sound of Aidan's breathing - a comforting sound, both because it was so rhythmic and because it was tangible reassurance that the person they were determined to keep safe remained so. Marshal wished he had brought something to read that was more distracting than the (now far less pressing) child development books. Fiction, maybe.
Eventually, he did drift off. His sleep was fitful, with frequent jolts to wakefulness and punctuated by the usual nightmares. So, could have been worse.
In the morning, he was practically vibrating with nervous energy, some of which he tried to dissipate by setting out the breakfast things once a reasonable hour had arrived and people were starting to emerge into the common area. The time somehow seemed to pass both agonizingly slowly and in the blink of an eye, all at the same time.
Then, the moment had come.
Brain Stuff was not going to take place in the same facility where he'd been receiving medical treatment so far. Brain Stuff was too dangerous to do in the city. If it went wrong - if he went crazy and turned into a killing machine - it had to happen far away, where there weren't so many people to hurt. That meant a journey to what appeared to be a remote village... but that had a state-of-the-art, if small, medical facility.
"Are you ready?" Shuri asked.
"I think so. I mean... yes. Yes, I am."
Marshal leaned back on the hospital bed. The others couldn't be in the room with him; the procedure was too delicate. He knew they were there, though, watching through a pane of thick glass that served as an observation window. That was a comforting thought. He closed his eyes.
Closing his eyes wasn't enough. As soon as he felt the device coming near his forehead, he started hyperventilating.
"Marshal? Are you alright?"
Marshal gritted his teeth. "I'm okay. Please just do it. Please."
"Do you want to sit up so you can see them?"
Marshal's eyes popped open. He nodded, and Shuri adjusted the bed so he was in a seated position instead of lying down. He could see them now. His people. Jameson, Maureen, Aidan, Cait. That was better. He smiled at them and gave a little wave. Then he let Shuri try again, and this time, he was able to accept the device around his head. Unlike with the chair he'd been forced into by HYDRA - and then coerced into by Ginny - there was no pain. The room faded to black.
***
...An elderly woman was making cookies, rolling dough rhythmically on a floured countertop with a rolling pin. Marshal sat on a kitchen chair, his short child legs not reaching to the floor, and watched. His grandmother? She looked so tired...
...In a garage. A car on the lift. A toolbox on the neat workbench. There was a small dark stain on the floor. The strongest impression, though, was the smell of the place...
...Marshal had lined up the toy soldiers carefully in a pretend battle, forty on each side. It had taken an hour to get the scene just right. Why was his mother yelling at him, calling him a violent little monster? Why had she bought him the toy soldiers in the first place, if he wasn't supposed to play with them?...
...They were in a church. They didn't go to church, normally, but there was something here his mother wanted to see. A relic? A relic query? Marshal didn't want to look. The dried out old relic was scary. He huddled on a pew in the side nook, staring at a stained glass window instead. The window depicted sheep. He liked sheep...
...It was the year he was in kindergarten. He lay on the sofa, pressing his face against the faded and worn faux velvet, pressing his hands to his belly, wishing the pain would stop. His mother would eventually take him to the doctor, and he would learn the word 'appendix.' For now, she was keeping up a steady litany of complaints about how sniveling and whiny he was and how much trouble he was causing her...
...He didn't usually feel like he knew his mother. But every now and then, he caught a glimpse. Like the little notes she left along the edges of the typed words in her books...
...It was almost time. He was waiting. For what? It seemed like the waiting would never end. Oh, yeah. He was waiting for happiness...
..."It's bad luck." "It's just a number." "A bad luck number." "Well, I like it." Because someone should like it. Because nothing should be unloved...
...The wind whistled. Rain pounded against the house, against the boards that had been hastily nailed across the windows. Now and then, he heard a sound like a tree limb breaking. The house itself seemed to groan. It was scary. But it was kind of thrilling, too...
...His mother's back was to him, but he could see the reflection of her face in the mirror. Her angular features. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves as she brushed it. He felt like he always saw her only reflected in a mirror...
***
Marshal woke up alone in a hut. He stepped outside, into the heat of the Wakandan sun. He put up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare. It was only then that he realized someone else was here.
An old man. An old white man? That wasn't who he expected to meet. As he stepped closer, he recognized the features.
It was him. An older version of himself.
"Are you me?" Marshal asked.
Old Marshal nodded.
"Did I get cured?"
Old Marshal nodded again.
"What's going to happen to me? In the future, I mean?"
This time, Old Marshal shook his head. "Too broad. We have little time. You need to move on. Ask one question before you leave, if you wish."
Marshal drew in his breath, trying to decide what question - besides the cure - was the most critical. "Does Jameson get tired of me someday?"
"No. Your brother will love you fiercely for the rest of his days."
Marshal decided to risk a prohibited second question. "Are you really me from the future?"
This actually made Old Marshal smile. "No. I'm your own brain. I'm only telling you what, deep down, you already know."
***
He woke up in a hut.
For real this time.
But he wasn't alone.
A Dora Milaje warrior was staring at him intently.
"Did it work?" Marshal asked. "And uh... what is your name?"
"Ayo. And we shall see. Are you ready?"
Would he ever be ready? Marshal nodded.
"Careworn."
Nothing.
"Oil."
Nothing.
"Eighty."
Nothing.
"Transept."
Nothing.
"Five."
Nothing.
"Marginalia."
Nothing.
"Anticipated."
Nothing.
"Thirteen."
Nothing.
"Hurricane."
Nothing.
"Visage."
Nothing.
"Soldier?"
"I'm not their soldier anymore."
Ayo's expression didn't change, but Marshal thought he felt an emotion radiate. Approval. "Well then, Marshal Knox. It seems you are a free man. The claws of the beast have been pried out of your memories."
Marshal dropped to his knees. His forehead dipped, touched the ground. He remained there as if he was kissing the very soil. The Wakandan soil where he had been freed. The soil was getting wet. Because tears were dripping from his eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered, over and over. "Thank you, thank you..."
***
Then the time for tears was over. It was time for hugs and celebration with his waiting loved ones. He was happy. Buoyant. Practically walking on air. He was free. What could touch him now?
They would journey back to the city the next day. For tonight, they were given huts in the village - surprisingly luxurious and comfortable ones, not like the simple dirt-floored dwelling where he'd woken up.
Marshal was still utterly ebullient and not ready to to sleep right away, so he walked, stretching his limbs, exploring. Free. He wondered if Cait was still awake. He knocked softly on her door - not wanting to wake her if she'd gone to bed - but she was still up.
"Hey Cait. Can I show you something? It's really cool. Oh, and you might want a jacket. The air's a little chilly."
Marshal indeed had a blanket loosely draped around his shoulders, but he scarcely seemed to notice the night air he'd cautioned her about. He led her up the slope of a ridge, through some scrubby trees, till they emerged in the open at the top.
"Here. Right here. Look up."
The night sky above them blazed with the brilliant light of stars, set in the black velvet of darkness. They could see from horizon to horizon in all directions from here.
"I've never seen them this bright before. I've always been in places with more light in the nighttime. I wish I knew the names of the constellations. Aren't they beautiful? Oh, look - a shooting star. Make a wish, Cait!"
The instruction to do so was reflexive - Marshal himself didn't make one. It didn't occur to him that he ought to. He was free. He was happy. What more could he possibly want?
Re: The Golden City
Cait McIvor
She hoped she never forgot this day. How Marshal looked. How happy he was. Everything around him seemed full of light. Freedom. Freedom had done this. Cait was so relieved - and equally happy - for Marshal to finally have his life back in his hands. He deserved this. All of it.
The fae were quiet tonight. She'd have been suspicious if the last 24 hours hadn't been so unusual. As such, she took advantage of the situation and began some stretches and poses, regaining familiarity with her adult body. As much as it had been an adjustment to suddenly be smaller - it was almost worse getting used to being 'big'. Still, she hadn't been in her younger form for all that long. It wouldn't be long before she was back in fighting shape.
And so, she was still up when Marshal knocked on her door. She smiled at him when she opened the door, unable to keep from doing so upon seeing his excited, earnest face. She had nodded and pulled a blanket off her bed before joining him outside. He was right - it was a beautiful night and the stars were putting on quite a show, though she found herself looking more at Marshal's face than at the sky. His face was beautiful without all that weight sitting behind those eyes.
She tilted her head back just in time to see said star. It was adorable that he'd say such a thing. It had been centuries since she'd given much thought to such a thing. It was hard to wish when your fate was sealed. But hadn't Marshal's fate been pretty well sealed until today? Perhaps there was more wiggle room in her situation than she'd already pushed for. She was pretty sure Fate hadn't expected her to share stolen life force with anyone, yet here they were.
If she could entertain the idea of making a wish, what would she wish for?
Instead of answering her own question, she decided to instead embrace the here and now. Wishing could wait. After all, she had all the time in the world.
"Well, I can start you off - follow my finger." Cait pointed up at a bright star and began tracing lines between the point. "That is Draco. He guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides. Story goes that Zeus placed him in the sky after his death out of respect for the great serpent's work."
She let her arm fall, smiling up at the invisible dragon. "I don't know all the stories, of course. I mostly learned about the constellations for the purposes of navigation. I would love to learn more about them."
She hoped she never forgot this day. How Marshal looked. How happy he was. Everything around him seemed full of light. Freedom. Freedom had done this. Cait was so relieved - and equally happy - for Marshal to finally have his life back in his hands. He deserved this. All of it.
The fae were quiet tonight. She'd have been suspicious if the last 24 hours hadn't been so unusual. As such, she took advantage of the situation and began some stretches and poses, regaining familiarity with her adult body. As much as it had been an adjustment to suddenly be smaller - it was almost worse getting used to being 'big'. Still, she hadn't been in her younger form for all that long. It wouldn't be long before she was back in fighting shape.
And so, she was still up when Marshal knocked on her door. She smiled at him when she opened the door, unable to keep from doing so upon seeing his excited, earnest face. She had nodded and pulled a blanket off her bed before joining him outside. He was right - it was a beautiful night and the stars were putting on quite a show, though she found herself looking more at Marshal's face than at the sky. His face was beautiful without all that weight sitting behind those eyes.
She tilted her head back just in time to see said star. It was adorable that he'd say such a thing. It had been centuries since she'd given much thought to such a thing. It was hard to wish when your fate was sealed. But hadn't Marshal's fate been pretty well sealed until today? Perhaps there was more wiggle room in her situation than she'd already pushed for. She was pretty sure Fate hadn't expected her to share stolen life force with anyone, yet here they were.
If she could entertain the idea of making a wish, what would she wish for?
Instead of answering her own question, she decided to instead embrace the here and now. Wishing could wait. After all, she had all the time in the world.
"Well, I can start you off - follow my finger." Cait pointed up at a bright star and began tracing lines between the point. "That is Draco. He guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides. Story goes that Zeus placed him in the sky after his death out of respect for the great serpent's work."
She let her arm fall, smiling up at the invisible dragon. "I don't know all the stories, of course. I mostly learned about the constellations for the purposes of navigation. I would love to learn more about them."
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 829
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Marshal Knox
Marshal followed where Cait was pointing, and listened intently to her explanation. "Maybe we could learn more about them together, since we both want to," Marshal suggested. Then, picking up on another point, "Navigating by the constellations? What was that like?"
He encouraged her to tell stories, asking questions, hanging on every word. He could have listened to her all night.
"You're fascinating, you know that?" he said with a smile.
If only we'd met before HYDRA, maybe...
Jameson said things can change.
Can they change that much?
He took a mental inventory: Still had flashbacks. Still had nightmares. Potentially still weird about sex. Crying sometimes. HYDRA apparently still after him. So basically: A lot was going to have to change before he could even consider whether he might someday be boyfriend material for anyone. If ever.
No! he told himself. Not doing this. Not tonight. This is a happy night. I'll catalog my shortcomings another time. I have this beautiful friendship. I'm not going to ruin it by pining for something more.
"It's getting late," he finally said. Reluctantly. "I guess we should get back. Get some sleep and all."
It was a good night. Maybe a night when he could take a small risk.
"This was such a great evening. I'm glad we got to spend time together. I was wondering if I could maybe... if I could give you a hug? But it's totally okay if you don't want to right now. Or if you... if you aren't comfortable having physical contact like that with me anymore at all - I totally understand. I'm your friend no matter what, I promise."
Marshal followed where Cait was pointing, and listened intently to her explanation. "Maybe we could learn more about them together, since we both want to," Marshal suggested. Then, picking up on another point, "Navigating by the constellations? What was that like?"
He encouraged her to tell stories, asking questions, hanging on every word. He could have listened to her all night.
"You're fascinating, you know that?" he said with a smile.
If only we'd met before HYDRA, maybe...
Jameson said things can change.
Can they change that much?
He took a mental inventory: Still had flashbacks. Still had nightmares. Potentially still weird about sex. Crying sometimes. HYDRA apparently still after him. So basically: A lot was going to have to change before he could even consider whether he might someday be boyfriend material for anyone. If ever.
No! he told himself. Not doing this. Not tonight. This is a happy night. I'll catalog my shortcomings another time. I have this beautiful friendship. I'm not going to ruin it by pining for something more.
"It's getting late," he finally said. Reluctantly. "I guess we should get back. Get some sleep and all."
It was a good night. Maybe a night when he could take a small risk.
"This was such a great evening. I'm glad we got to spend time together. I was wondering if I could maybe... if I could give you a hug? But it's totally okay if you don't want to right now. Or if you... if you aren't comfortable having physical contact like that with me anymore at all - I totally understand. I'm your friend no matter what, I promise."
Re: The Golden City
Cait McIvor
It was nice not having to be so careful when telling stories. Marshal knew that she was old. He had a better grasp of this than most due to recent events. Sure, no one could really truly understand the fullness of what she and Rhiannon had gone through - but she didn't really need that from him. She was satisfied with simply being allowed to be open instead of guarded.
And so she told him of being a viking shield maiden - sailing the North Atlantic with a band of men and a song. Of the lonely Atlas mountains where she counted stars to pass the time. Of the time she got stranded in the middle of Chihuahua and had to walk to the American border.
Marshal was an excellent audience. She loved the parts of the stories that he focused on - found the bits that captured him just as interesting as he seemed to find her answers. It felt very nice to be captivating. To have a prolonged moment of connection with another person. She'd missed that. Had she ever truly even had it before?
His final question had brought her up short. She'd sensed his interest - but also his walls - so Cait wasn't precisely certain what Marshal was feeling concerning her. But now, she could venture a guess. She smiled up at him and cast her hands angling away from her body.
"Of course you can give me a hug. I've always been comfortable around you, Marshal - before, now...always."
That last word was an odd one, but she ignored that and leaned in to give the man a good tight squeeze. Cait wasn't one for light patting hugs, so if that was what Marshal had anticipated, that was just too bad.
It was nice not having to be so careful when telling stories. Marshal knew that she was old. He had a better grasp of this than most due to recent events. Sure, no one could really truly understand the fullness of what she and Rhiannon had gone through - but she didn't really need that from him. She was satisfied with simply being allowed to be open instead of guarded.
And so she told him of being a viking shield maiden - sailing the North Atlantic with a band of men and a song. Of the lonely Atlas mountains where she counted stars to pass the time. Of the time she got stranded in the middle of Chihuahua and had to walk to the American border.
Marshal was an excellent audience. She loved the parts of the stories that he focused on - found the bits that captured him just as interesting as he seemed to find her answers. It felt very nice to be captivating. To have a prolonged moment of connection with another person. She'd missed that. Had she ever truly even had it before?
His final question had brought her up short. She'd sensed his interest - but also his walls - so Cait wasn't precisely certain what Marshal was feeling concerning her. But now, she could venture a guess. She smiled up at him and cast her hands angling away from her body.
"Of course you can give me a hug. I've always been comfortable around you, Marshal - before, now...always."
That last word was an odd one, but she ignored that and leaned in to give the man a good tight squeeze. Cait wasn't one for light patting hugs, so if that was what Marshal had anticipated, that was just too bad.
-
Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 829
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: The Golden City
Marshal Knox
"Thank you," Marshal said. "Thank you for being so kind to me."
He hugged her back, fervently but gently enough to make sure he didn’t cause pain. He was conscious of his body. Of his hands. Carefully placed hands. Remaining a gentleman.
The hug felt so good, so full of warmth. So painful, so full of things he wished. But so good, so affectionate and welcoming.
The remnants of his emotional high of the evening still lingered. He felt almost drunk - but not the despairing, hopeless drunk he'd spent the past months mired in. The giddy, dizzy drunk he hadn't been in a long time. Like champagne bubbles.
His hand reached to brush her cheek... but stopped inches from her face. The happiness bubble popped abruptly. That had not been a platonic gesture. Dammit, dammit...
He pulled away and took a few stumbling steps, then doubled over, hands clutching knees, back to her, taking a few deep breaths.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. It's just... this night. I got carried away. You don't... you don’t have to walk away, okay? I promise I won't pester you with this. Can I just be your idiot friend who can't help his feelings? You can laugh at me. It's fine. Just please... don't go?"
It was a question, a plea. A man who had spent so much of his life begging for every scrap of affection, and was still learning that wasn't always required.
"Thank you," Marshal said. "Thank you for being so kind to me."
He hugged her back, fervently but gently enough to make sure he didn’t cause pain. He was conscious of his body. Of his hands. Carefully placed hands. Remaining a gentleman.
The hug felt so good, so full of warmth. So painful, so full of things he wished. But so good, so affectionate and welcoming.
The remnants of his emotional high of the evening still lingered. He felt almost drunk - but not the despairing, hopeless drunk he'd spent the past months mired in. The giddy, dizzy drunk he hadn't been in a long time. Like champagne bubbles.
His hand reached to brush her cheek... but stopped inches from her face. The happiness bubble popped abruptly. That had not been a platonic gesture. Dammit, dammit...
He pulled away and took a few stumbling steps, then doubled over, hands clutching knees, back to her, taking a few deep breaths.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. It's just... this night. I got carried away. You don't... you don’t have to walk away, okay? I promise I won't pester you with this. Can I just be your idiot friend who can't help his feelings? You can laugh at me. It's fine. Just please... don't go?"
It was a question, a plea. A man who had spent so much of his life begging for every scrap of affection, and was still learning that wasn't always required.