![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( it's been several centuries of relative peace and quiet in the amazon, until the day druig feels a shudder across north america like a stone dropped into a large pond, a ripple of magical energy. and he perks up, like a hunting hound that just heard a distant and far-off whistle.
in all his millennia of existence, this has never happened before. and if there's anything that can catch the eternal's attention and pique his curiosity, it's something genuinely new.
so he leaves his isolated village, and he goes. talks his way into private-chartered planes with just the slightest mental nudge; hops a car the same way; and then eventually arrives at westview, where SWORD agents are milling on the perimeter. whatever's happening here, westview feels like an infection growing hot beneath the surface, a blister in reality and in need of lancing. druig saunters right past the secret agents without their noticing, just the faintest yellow glow to his eyes to indicate that their distraction isn't natural.
and ten minutes later, a stranger walks into the local five-and-dime. everything is in black-and-white, and for a second he looks just like any other '50s greaser, his hair slicked into a thick rockabilly style. but with a flicker of irritation and his hand gesturing like he's waving away an errant fly, he—
(shifts, somehow, imperceptibly)
and the greased hairstyle is gone, back to just tousled and untidy black hair. he's still wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, but the design is modern and anachronistic. when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, there's perhaps an occasional blurry smear of colour where there wasn't before, like a gap in the illusion. he swings himself onto a stool; orders a coffee and a milkshake and a towering stack of pancakes. once the milkshake arrives, he folds his sunglasses back into his coat pocket, savours a long insouciant slurp through a straw, and then spins his stool to peer at the woman seated down the counter.
he looks young — late twenties, early thirties? — but there's something tired and older than his years in his sleepy eyes, that probing blue gaze. when he speaks up, there's an unexpected irish roll to his accent. )
Funny place you've got here.
in all his millennia of existence, this has never happened before. and if there's anything that can catch the eternal's attention and pique his curiosity, it's something genuinely new.
so he leaves his isolated village, and he goes. talks his way into private-chartered planes with just the slightest mental nudge; hops a car the same way; and then eventually arrives at westview, where SWORD agents are milling on the perimeter. whatever's happening here, westview feels like an infection growing hot beneath the surface, a blister in reality and in need of lancing. druig saunters right past the secret agents without their noticing, just the faintest yellow glow to his eyes to indicate that their distraction isn't natural.
and ten minutes later, a stranger walks into the local five-and-dime. everything is in black-and-white, and for a second he looks just like any other '50s greaser, his hair slicked into a thick rockabilly style. but with a flicker of irritation and his hand gesturing like he's waving away an errant fly, he—
(shifts, somehow, imperceptibly)
and the greased hairstyle is gone, back to just tousled and untidy black hair. he's still wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, but the design is modern and anachronistic. when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, there's perhaps an occasional blurry smear of colour where there wasn't before, like a gap in the illusion. he swings himself onto a stool; orders a coffee and a milkshake and a towering stack of pancakes. once the milkshake arrives, he folds his sunglasses back into his coat pocket, savours a long insouciant slurp through a straw, and then spins his stool to peer at the woman seated down the counter.
he looks young — late twenties, early thirties? — but there's something tired and older than his years in his sleepy eyes, that probing blue gaze. when he speaks up, there's an unexpected irish roll to his accent. )
Funny place you've got here.
[ there are dozens of things spider-man should be taking care of as night falls over new york city and all the mischief comes out to play. there are crimes to stop, people to help, tips to give to the local police and yet spider-man finds himself lost in thought.
peter parker finds himself lost in thought more often than not these days. it's easier to find a building to perch upon than to dwell in the ramshackle studio apartment he secured and try to make sense of what his life happens to be now. it's one of those nights.
he scans faces, looks down at the bustle of the city - he can see window lights and dining rooms set for families and loved ones. he can hear the laughter of some friends up the block and it sends him reeling -
head down, deep breath. get it together, spider-man. a mantra he's become an expert at.
one leap and he's sailing through the skies, whirling through the city on manufactured webbing and ignoring the way this suit doesn't feel quite right. it's an older stark model, one he's taken apart and put back together to the point that it's unrecognizable. it has to be.
for a brief moment, he thinks he sees something familiar in the window of one of the hotels, a face - red hair, haunting eyes, a set jaw - but he blinks it out of existence as he comes to perch on one of the balcony railings to admire the way the sun sets on the city.
no familiar faces. right. ]
Jeez, the view...
[ it's sad, the way he says it to himself and he breathes in the night air on a sigh. ]
peter parker finds himself lost in thought more often than not these days. it's easier to find a building to perch upon than to dwell in the ramshackle studio apartment he secured and try to make sense of what his life happens to be now. it's one of those nights.
he scans faces, looks down at the bustle of the city - he can see window lights and dining rooms set for families and loved ones. he can hear the laughter of some friends up the block and it sends him reeling -
head down, deep breath. get it together, spider-man. a mantra he's become an expert at.
one leap and he's sailing through the skies, whirling through the city on manufactured webbing and ignoring the way this suit doesn't feel quite right. it's an older stark model, one he's taken apart and put back together to the point that it's unrecognizable. it has to be.
for a brief moment, he thinks he sees something familiar in the window of one of the hotels, a face - red hair, haunting eyes, a set jaw - but he blinks it out of existence as he comes to perch on one of the balcony railings to admire the way the sun sets on the city.
no familiar faces. right. ]
Jeez, the view...
[ it's sad, the way he says it to himself and he breathes in the night air on a sigh. ]
( she's never quite felt like the city knows how to hold her. perhaps she was simply too much for it, too used to the dust-rubbled streets of sokovia or the reflective panes of headquarters. somehow it feels quieter than the whispering hills and forests of scotland, feels quieter than keeping herself hidden away, muting herself from the rest of the world as it spun madly on. truthfully, she doesn't know why it is she's found herself back here, moving from one hotel to the next as if one might feel kinder than the last — a little warmer, a little more familiar —
it never does.
there's no telling how long it's been since the piping water she'd drawn for a bath had run cold, finding herself looking over the balcony instead with arms curled around her ribs, the cold of january biting at her cheeks. she's hardly dressed for it, but there's something to appreciate in the way it finds its way easily through the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants hanging at her hips, how it makes her teeth chatter quietly, how breath fogs before her lips.
her peripherals find him first, like a gliding shadow between the brief yawn of brick buildings, a weightless furl upward that leaves him perched on a balcony not far from her own. something squeezes in her chest — familiar — and the first time she thinks to find her tongue teeth find it instead.
brows furrow, and then she calls to him- tone ridden with question, meeker than she'd like, and an undertone of something else. )
Peter?
it never does.
there's no telling how long it's been since the piping water she'd drawn for a bath had run cold, finding herself looking over the balcony instead with arms curled around her ribs, the cold of january biting at her cheeks. she's hardly dressed for it, but there's something to appreciate in the way it finds its way easily through the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants hanging at her hips, how it makes her teeth chatter quietly, how breath fogs before her lips.
her peripherals find him first, like a gliding shadow between the brief yawn of brick buildings, a weightless furl upward that leaves him perched on a balcony not far from her own. something squeezes in her chest — familiar — and the first time she thinks to find her tongue teeth find it instead.
brows furrow, and then she calls to him- tone ridden with question, meeker than she'd like, and an undertone of something else. )
Peter?
( she swallows, and the bruise painted like a plum horizon across her throat gives a dull, resounding ache.
how could you explain the feeling? going back to the place the made you what you are. the insulated steel walls, the double sided glass pane meant for spectators, doctors, scientists alike to marvel over you. the collar — a pity for them they believed it would be enough, now. that you haven't grown to something bigger, far more violent, unforgiving. death touched.
there's a fire in her ribs every time she breathes. something broken, maybe, but it pales in comparison to the way she feels when she hears his name — something about coordinates, how he was on his way to her, that the rest wouldn't be long to follow. he, he, he. an array of thoughts bombard her the second she hears it. she was here because of him... had the titans been involved with hydra all the while? had she really been so naive to think their nights together, his caring for her could take precedence over them? it wouldn't be the first time she'd blurred reality to something softer, easier to digest. was it the reason he'd fallen quiet? too ridden with guilt, or maybe having gone just far enough? no — it didn't make sense. they wouldn't be tracking him if they had an accord, if she was meant to be here. if they didn't have reason to worry when he arrived.
what does it say of her, that she allows herself to be paralyzed with the thought of him? leave — she needs to leave. panic swells in her chest, another too-big breath that causes features to wince, that colors her vision with white, leaves her whirling. if he knows they have her, he'll know if they lose her. she blinks herself back to her surroundings just in time to hear someone knock tauntingly at the wall of thick glass.
anger furls within her, and then everything is red. )
[ . . . ]
( the hex around the safe house hums. it acts as a ward, to alert her if anything, anyone crosses it. to think she'd reshaped an entire town within one without so much as a thought — now, she had to keep it from slipping, catching herself every so often when it crackled with static, when her body begged to pull her under. her phone blips with the reminder of missed calls, text messages — wilson, natasha, peter — and with a huff she's turning off the device and pressing it across the counter, bracing herself there as black swims at the edges of her gaze.
a hot bath and some sleep, she tells herself that's all she needs, but the moment everything stills around her there's a tugging, a presence — something is here that should not be.
longing felt something like this: to know it was him, sightless, without sound; by feeling alone. )
how could you explain the feeling? going back to the place the made you what you are. the insulated steel walls, the double sided glass pane meant for spectators, doctors, scientists alike to marvel over you. the collar — a pity for them they believed it would be enough, now. that you haven't grown to something bigger, far more violent, unforgiving. death touched.
there's a fire in her ribs every time she breathes. something broken, maybe, but it pales in comparison to the way she feels when she hears his name — something about coordinates, how he was on his way to her, that the rest wouldn't be long to follow. he, he, he. an array of thoughts bombard her the second she hears it. she was here because of him... had the titans been involved with hydra all the while? had she really been so naive to think their nights together, his caring for her could take precedence over them? it wouldn't be the first time she'd blurred reality to something softer, easier to digest. was it the reason he'd fallen quiet? too ridden with guilt, or maybe having gone just far enough? no — it didn't make sense. they wouldn't be tracking him if they had an accord, if she was meant to be here. if they didn't have reason to worry when he arrived.
what does it say of her, that she allows herself to be paralyzed with the thought of him? leave — she needs to leave. panic swells in her chest, another too-big breath that causes features to wince, that colors her vision with white, leaves her whirling. if he knows they have her, he'll know if they lose her. she blinks herself back to her surroundings just in time to hear someone knock tauntingly at the wall of thick glass.
anger furls within her, and then everything is red. )
[ . . . ]
( the hex around the safe house hums. it acts as a ward, to alert her if anything, anyone crosses it. to think she'd reshaped an entire town within one without so much as a thought — now, she had to keep it from slipping, catching herself every so often when it crackled with static, when her body begged to pull her under. her phone blips with the reminder of missed calls, text messages — wilson, natasha, peter — and with a huff she's turning off the device and pressing it across the counter, bracing herself there as black swims at the edges of her gaze.
a hot bath and some sleep, she tells herself that's all she needs, but the moment everything stills around her there's a tugging, a presence — something is here that should not be.
longing felt something like this: to know it was him, sightless, without sound; by feeling alone. )
[ the stakes suddenly become personal. the nightmare he’s clawing through closes in on him, and he struggles to breathe through it. it feels like suffocating, as if he's stuck in a corner he can't escape. the feeling clenches in his mind as he peels down the city streets, in his body as he races towards her. it tightens through his bones as he arrives to the ghost of a building and lodges around his heart when all he finds left of the fortified cage is an empty, crumbled shell, charred to coal, as if it had been made of paper.
then, the search begins. his mind whirrs as he conducts the first comb through of the facilities, relying heavily on practice and training to hold on to a strand of steadiness. hydra practically evacuated. all that’s left are bits of equipment, strewn about with the casualties. it sends hot anger crawling up his throat, but he doesn’t dare ask whose body count it is (it’s his). he checks pulse points, and helps those he still can, covering the nightwing blue in dust and grime until the rescue team arrives.
but it’s all a distraction. he isn’t where he’s supposed to be, reliable and solid by the titans’ side. instead, he’s here, cleaning up the mess of a botched hydra plan that only continues to be fucked up. but she’s not here. she’s nowhere to be found among the dust and debris. it’s both relieving and distressing. questions spin through his mind as he vigilantly searches, trying his best to keep the desperation under control as he looks through security footage and police scanners, racking his brain for an answer as to where she could be. is she hurt? is she safe? is she even alive? would she see him at all, after all that's happened? would she believe that he misses her and wants nothing else but to know she’s ok?
the night’s pitch black when desperation takes him to search through the last thing he knows: the various safe houses that have sheltered them from their lives. it’s not until the fourth one he tries that a spark of hope blooms too-bright within him. the door swings open with a retina scan, and he stands in the threshold, dressed in head to toe black, skin grimey, eyes haunted, sleeplessness wreaking havoc on his nerves. but the strand of hope quivers inside him as small traces of inhabitation stand out in the otherwise stark space. he can’t help the way his voice frays. ]
Wanda?
then, the search begins. his mind whirrs as he conducts the first comb through of the facilities, relying heavily on practice and training to hold on to a strand of steadiness. hydra practically evacuated. all that’s left are bits of equipment, strewn about with the casualties. it sends hot anger crawling up his throat, but he doesn’t dare ask whose body count it is (it’s his). he checks pulse points, and helps those he still can, covering the nightwing blue in dust and grime until the rescue team arrives.
but it’s all a distraction. he isn’t where he’s supposed to be, reliable and solid by the titans’ side. instead, he’s here, cleaning up the mess of a botched hydra plan that only continues to be fucked up. but she’s not here. she’s nowhere to be found among the dust and debris. it’s both relieving and distressing. questions spin through his mind as he vigilantly searches, trying his best to keep the desperation under control as he looks through security footage and police scanners, racking his brain for an answer as to where she could be. is she hurt? is she safe? is she even alive? would she see him at all, after all that's happened? would she believe that he misses her and wants nothing else but to know she’s ok?
the night’s pitch black when desperation takes him to search through the last thing he knows: the various safe houses that have sheltered them from their lives. it’s not until the fourth one he tries that a spark of hope blooms too-bright within him. the door swings open with a retina scan, and he stands in the threshold, dressed in head to toe black, skin grimey, eyes haunted, sleeplessness wreaking havoc on his nerves. but the strand of hope quivers inside him as small traces of inhabitation stand out in the otherwise stark space. he can’t help the way his voice frays. ]
Wanda?
( she could have hidden everything, even edging exhaustion as she is. could've snuffed out the lights without so much as a thought, painted a mirage across the safe house to make it appear untouched, surely vacant of anything alive — but she doesn't. again, she finds herself hesitating, trying to put a name to the fire that swells within her. something like anger — a hurt that distinguishes itself sharply from her ribs, her throat — like distance, miles that have been lodged between them since he'd gone quiet. it'd taken hardly any time at all for guards to slot right back into place, to feel herself begin to turn cold. an unreachable, unrecognizable thing. again.
it's an emptiness she understands, one she's sat intimately with before. one that'd led her back to the open fields and mountains of sokovia. alone. right now she just wants to be alone —
a hand lifts to brace against her side, lids fluttering closed when she hears her name. that voice, his voice, calling for her.
a shaky breath, ragged as it causes her ribs to bloom just where the splintering pain resounds from. it takes her a long moment to find her voice, to make her tongue any bit willing to respond — to him, to anything. it's a ghostly sound when she finally speaks, a low and chilly velvet, crisp with finality. )
You shouldn't be here.
it's an emptiness she understands, one she's sat intimately with before. one that'd led her back to the open fields and mountains of sokovia. alone. right now she just wants to be alone —
a hand lifts to brace against her side, lids fluttering closed when she hears her name. that voice, his voice, calling for her.
a shaky breath, ragged as it causes her ribs to bloom just where the splintering pain resounds from. it takes her a long moment to find her voice, to make her tongue any bit willing to respond — to him, to anything. it's a ghostly sound when she finally speaks, a low and chilly velvet, crisp with finality. )
You shouldn't be here.
Wanda, [ again, her name, as soon as her voice rings out, the relief suddenly flooding him for a split second before the words set in. his strides quicken, hastily crossing the vast living space to turn the corner into the kitchen.
there she is, a smear of colour against the blue and grey, all the glass and steel of their enclosure. his breath shudders out his parted lips, the cold, shaky fear suddenly transforming into something hot and sharp, melding with the constriction until he's shaking his head, taking fast, long steps towards her. ]
No, I've been looking for you. Fuck, you're-- [ alive. ] Are you--let me see you.
there she is, a smear of colour against the blue and grey, all the glass and steel of their enclosure. his breath shudders out his parted lips, the cold, shaky fear suddenly transforming into something hot and sharp, melding with the constriction until he's shaking his head, taking fast, long steps towards her. ]
No, I've been looking for you. Fuck, you're-- [ alive. ] Are you--let me see you.
( he says her name again and all she can think is that she wants him to stop, that she wants everything to stop, and it's a dangerous thought to have. an itch that burrows its way deep, that leaves something festering as her jaw sets and he crosses the space between them. it's all she can do to hold a hand up, palm towards him, but there aren't any scarlet tendrils that curl up from her digits — instead it's just a warning, a request, a plea — stop. )
Don't. ( she doesn't have the energy to snicker, but god how she'd like to at the idea of it. i've been looking for you. for how long? she wants to say. perhaps she'd been hiding for longer than she'd thought. maybe it was just her all along.
she steels a breath, and she can't bring herself to meet his gaze. there's no part of her that enjoys this, that appreciates the bitter thing he's met with there in the dim lighting of the kitchen. it's the only way she knows how to protect herself, like she should have done from the beginning. )
I'm fine. ( but everything gives her away, fingers trembling, pain lurched into her throat. the only thing even is her voice. ) Someone could have — ... did anyone follow you?
Don't. ( she doesn't have the energy to snicker, but god how she'd like to at the idea of it. i've been looking for you. for how long? she wants to say. perhaps she'd been hiding for longer than she'd thought. maybe it was just her all along.
she steels a breath, and she can't bring herself to meet his gaze. there's no part of her that enjoys this, that appreciates the bitter thing he's met with there in the dim lighting of the kitchen. it's the only way she knows how to protect herself, like she should have done from the beginning. )
I'm fine. ( but everything gives her away, fingers trembling, pain lurched into her throat. the only thing even is her voice. ) Someone could have — ... did anyone follow you?
Edited 2023-01-21 23:35 (UTC)
[ despite every cell in his body wanting nothing but to get closer, he stops in his tracks, palms floating cautiously at his sides. he's taken aback by the warning that sounds in the back of his mind: she's powerful. she's dangerous.
he tilts his head, brows furrowed as another breath shakily sifts out of him. he shakes his head. ]
No, I made sure of it and-- [ he takes another step forward, aching with every word she says, careful on his feet. ] Wanda. [ her name, almost a plea in his mouth. ] Let me get you some help, I can't leave you like this.
he tilts his head, brows furrowed as another breath shakily sifts out of him. he shakes his head. ]
No, I made sure of it and-- [ he takes another step forward, aching with every word she says, careful on his feet. ] Wanda. [ her name, almost a plea in his mouth. ] Let me get you some help, I can't leave you like this.
( that was the problem: want. she wants him, wanted him. she wants to believe that it's not all past, but how can you be so sure someone won't leave when they already have? he knows what she's lost, her story was painted all over the press after new jersey. they had just gotten caught up in it all. his lifestyle, hers, it didn't often afford this sort of comfort.
she's already begun to unlearn him, how it feels to find sleep beside him, how her sternum swells whenever she sees him at some other odd hour of the night. the dark had started to look like him — it was better if they just kept their space, now that it's been forced between them. now that she's gotten a taste of it.
teeth chew at the inner of her cheek, and she tries to keep herself from snapping, but she doesn't know how to fit any more grief inside of her. )
Leave me like what? ( it's sharp, gaze like a whip as it lifts to his. tears threaten to well, but she denies them. no. she commands it so. not here. ) You already did that part.
she's already begun to unlearn him, how it feels to find sleep beside him, how her sternum swells whenever she sees him at some other odd hour of the night. the dark had started to look like him — it was better if they just kept their space, now that it's been forced between them. now that she's gotten a taste of it.
teeth chew at the inner of her cheek, and she tries to keep herself from snapping, but she doesn't know how to fit any more grief inside of her. )
Leave me like what? ( it's sharp, gaze like a whip as it lifts to his. tears threaten to well, but she denies them. no. she commands it so. not here. ) You already did that part.
[ her words are stinging, and her gaze burns into his, accusing, angry, pained. he sees it loud and clear in everything she doesn't say. how insulated they've been, how naive to think that sharing so much, letting her in so close was a good idea.
( he shouldn't have the luxury of missing her, of letting her strengthen him, of hoping that once this is all over, once he has a single ounce of his time to himself, that she'd let him share with her again. )
despite knowing that she was capable of this, recognizing it, knowing he's caused it, winds so tight in his chest. how stupid of him to fall so hard, to let her fall so hard. ]
I know. [ he takes another cautious step. ] You're hurt, I know. [ he's not sure what he's referring to--her heart? or her body? how could he be so stupid to think that he could've prevented either one? how could he be so hopeful? ] Wanda, please, I fucked up. Just this once. small>[ one last time. he takes a breath and steadies his voice, taking another bold step. ] Let me make it better.
( he shouldn't have the luxury of missing her, of letting her strengthen him, of hoping that once this is all over, once he has a single ounce of his time to himself, that she'd let him share with her again. )
despite knowing that she was capable of this, recognizing it, knowing he's caused it, winds so tight in his chest. how stupid of him to fall so hard, to let her fall so hard. ]
I know. [ he takes another cautious step. ] You're hurt, I know. [ he's not sure what he's referring to--her heart? or her body? how could he be so stupid to think that he could've prevented either one? how could he be so hopeful? ] Wanda, please, I fucked up. Just this once. small>[ one last time. he takes a breath and steadies his voice, taking another bold step. ] Let me make it better.
( she doesn't know what's more naive — that they let themselves become tangled the way they have, or that she would've stayed. no matter how embedded, no matter how foolish. this was just how things went in the real world, wasn't it? people leave. loss is a regular, mangled thing, a guest no one wants to keep and yet it insists itself still. he takes a step closer but closer feels too much like forgiving, and when had she ever been any good at that?
let me make it better. the words lurch around her heart, wrap themselves around her uncomfortably tight, and for a moment there's a flicker of something like softness in the way she looks at him. )
You can't make it better. ( you're the very thing that made it worse. and what angers her more is that she wishes he could — almost desperate for it, that he could make the aching stop, the hollow pit in her gut that never seems to go away. a jolt ricochets through her temples as the hex flickers, and the hand that'd warned him clasps quickly to up toward the source instead. eyes squeeze shut as the pain rings, loud enough that she nearly loses her balance, loud enough that she doesn't hear the sound she makes. something happened in that room — being there, like it's gotten its teeth into her. )
Something's wrong. They can— ( a thick swallow, knuckles white in their grip to keep herself steady. if the hex drops... ) They'll find us.
let me make it better. the words lurch around her heart, wrap themselves around her uncomfortably tight, and for a moment there's a flicker of something like softness in the way she looks at him. )
You can't make it better. ( you're the very thing that made it worse. and what angers her more is that she wishes he could — almost desperate for it, that he could make the aching stop, the hollow pit in her gut that never seems to go away. a jolt ricochets through her temples as the hex flickers, and the hand that'd warned him clasps quickly to up toward the source instead. eyes squeeze shut as the pain rings, loud enough that she nearly loses her balance, loud enough that she doesn't hear the sound she makes. something happened in that room — being there, like it's gotten its teeth into her. )
Something's wrong. They can— ( a thick swallow, knuckles white in their grip to keep herself steady. if the hex drops... ) They'll find us.
( continued )
are you saying i'm not already on your good side?
( while she can appreciate the sentiment, she isn't so sure she wants the company. all of it feels a little too close to headquarters, allowing her to believe she were there of her own free will, to lap up the comforts and the quiet, until she tried to leave. like she were some unstable thing that might give at any moment.
her coming back to the city had been a decision that'd been made over months while hidden in the mountains of sokovia, and since she'd arrived there's been a restlessness gnawing at her ankles. too many memories, too much loss reminding her that the idea of home had already been shattered here, too. )
i'm afraid the only worthy piece of advice i can offer is another vote for the golden girls. betty white deserves her homages. i used to put on reruns of bewitched when i couldn't fall asleep.
would you believe it's been years since i've actually watched anything?
no wonder i can't blend seamlessly into society
are you saying i'm not already on your good side?
( while she can appreciate the sentiment, she isn't so sure she wants the company. all of it feels a little too close to headquarters, allowing her to believe she were there of her own free will, to lap up the comforts and the quiet, until she tried to leave. like she were some unstable thing that might give at any moment.
her coming back to the city had been a decision that'd been made over months while hidden in the mountains of sokovia, and since she'd arrived there's been a restlessness gnawing at her ankles. too many memories, too much loss reminding her that the idea of home had already been shattered here, too. )
i'm afraid the only worthy piece of advice i can offer is another vote for the golden girls. betty white deserves her homages. i used to put on reruns of bewitched when i couldn't fall asleep.
would you believe it's been years since i've actually watched anything?
no wonder i can't blend seamlessly into society
[ seeing her like this is a torture like no other, being held at arms length, knowing there’s so much he could do to make things better. let him fix what he’s caused, he can do it. he can right his wrongs and let her move on with her life as if he’s never touched it. but the energy flickers around them—even he can feel it, and she lets out a sound that twists in his chest.
he’s by her side in a second, hands reached out, stopped just short of her waist and shoulder. his brows pinch in concern. as much as he doesn’t understand how the air-tight security could be breached, he’s not willing to risk it again. ]
Listen to me. [ the gentlest, quietest touch to the back of her knuckles, steady as he presses his hand against hers, fingers wrapping around her palm to tug her attention back to him. ] We need to go. Come to the tower with me. It’s safe there. Once you’re feeling better, you can—I’ll leave you alone. [ again, like perhaps he should have this whole time. urgency sharpens his gaze as he tries to shove the clawing, sickening anguish away. it’s been so long since he saw her. he didn’t mean to. ]
he’s by her side in a second, hands reached out, stopped just short of her waist and shoulder. his brows pinch in concern. as much as he doesn’t understand how the air-tight security could be breached, he’s not willing to risk it again. ]
Listen to me. [ the gentlest, quietest touch to the back of her knuckles, steady as he presses his hand against hers, fingers wrapping around her palm to tug her attention back to him. ] We need to go. Come to the tower with me. It’s safe there. Once you’re feeling better, you can—I’ll leave you alone. [ again, like perhaps he should have this whole time. urgency sharpens his gaze as he tries to shove the clawing, sickening anguish away. it’s been so long since he saw her. he didn’t mean to. ]
( listen to me. his voice manages to cut through the hollow, endless vibration, the warmth of a touch like a breath across her knuckles before he's taking hold of her hand, bringing her back piece by piece. she's scared — she hates that feeling — the weakness trembling within her, like the control she'd spent so long on her own crafting and honing so that she wouldn't do any more harm was beginning to splinter.
everything was at odds with itself, warring within her loudly, rashly. she doesn't want him here — but only because she does, more than anything. but it's too much of a risk, having him near her when she was like this, when there was nothing to say the chaos magic within her wouldn't seep its way out where it doesn't belong. she tries not to let herself think about the facility, how she'd left it nothing but rubble and earth, how all it'd taken was a moment for her to break — but there's blood on his hands, just as it was on her own, and one facility wasn't going to stop them. )
Okay. ( reluctance sits heavy on her tongue. ) Just... think of it. The tower. ( she doesn't have the time to explain, the energy, but he'll find her own digits clasping tight with his, a bright red hue like an ember blooming in her pupils. if she lets the hex fall, she should be able to get them there, to reach into his thoughts enough to familiarize herself with the location. ) Nothing else.
everything was at odds with itself, warring within her loudly, rashly. she doesn't want him here — but only because she does, more than anything. but it's too much of a risk, having him near her when she was like this, when there was nothing to say the chaos magic within her wouldn't seep its way out where it doesn't belong. she tries not to let herself think about the facility, how she'd left it nothing but rubble and earth, how all it'd taken was a moment for her to break — but there's blood on his hands, just as it was on her own, and one facility wasn't going to stop them. )
Okay. ( reluctance sits heavy on her tongue. ) Just... think of it. The tower. ( she doesn't have the time to explain, the energy, but he'll find her own digits clasping tight with his, a bright red hue like an ember blooming in her pupils. if she lets the hex fall, she should be able to get them there, to reach into his thoughts enough to familiarize herself with the location. ) Nothing else.
[ it takes focus that he doesn't have to think of nothing else but the tower, especially when her digits grip his, when she finally gives in for perhaps a brief moment to let him in. perhaps she doesn't have a choice, perhaps they're both desperate, fighting for life, but for now, that's enough.
he thinks about the lounge and its oversized fireplace, about the kitchen island, where he's made so many burgers, the sprawling dining table, where he sometimes sits by himself, nursing a cup of coffee on a rough morning. he thinks about his room there, with its king sized bed and upholstered headboard, its muted, dark colours, the warm lamp, how peaceful she'd look laying in his sheets, finally able to rest.
and the scarlet hue envelops him. turns out, teleporting reminds him of flying, and when they appear in his bedroom, the feeling in the pit of his stomach isn't completely foreign, but the tendril of something in his mind is strange. ]
Okay-- [ he takes a shaky breath in. decidedly, seeing her here hurts, because she was never meant to be here. but he doesn't let go of their linked hands as he guides her towards the bed. ] This is my room. You're safe here. No one knows where this place is besides the team and we've got state of the art security. [ all sorts of cameras, all sorts of locks and shields to block out every unwanted signal. the rest of what he was going to say about the tower sifts out in a quiet sigh. she'd know. she has her own tower too--had. ]
Can I...? [ he reaches up with his other hand, wanting to feel her, to place a hand along her cheek, to inspect that nasty bruise that wraps colour around her neck, marring the skin he once kissed. ]
he thinks about the lounge and its oversized fireplace, about the kitchen island, where he's made so many burgers, the sprawling dining table, where he sometimes sits by himself, nursing a cup of coffee on a rough morning. he thinks about his room there, with its king sized bed and upholstered headboard, its muted, dark colours, the warm lamp, how peaceful she'd look laying in his sheets, finally able to rest.
and the scarlet hue envelops him. turns out, teleporting reminds him of flying, and when they appear in his bedroom, the feeling in the pit of his stomach isn't completely foreign, but the tendril of something in his mind is strange. ]
Okay-- [ he takes a shaky breath in. decidedly, seeing her here hurts, because she was never meant to be here. but he doesn't let go of their linked hands as he guides her towards the bed. ] This is my room. You're safe here. No one knows where this place is besides the team and we've got state of the art security. [ all sorts of cameras, all sorts of locks and shields to block out every unwanted signal. the rest of what he was going to say about the tower sifts out in a quiet sigh. she'd know. she has her own tower too--had. ]
Can I...? [ he reaches up with his other hand, wanting to feel her, to place a hand along her cheek, to inspect that nasty bruise that wraps colour around her neck, marring the skin he once kissed. ]
Edited 2023-01-22 22:42 (UTC)
( it happens in no more than a breath, their surroundings shifting to one of the rooms from his painted thoughts, the very last one he'd clung to, where she'd caught a brief flicker of her own frame bundled within the sheets. he confirms her wonder the moment it arises, his room, and fittingly so — the darker hues coupled with a warm lighting was something intimate, bold as it was soft — something that felt safe, as if the room itself held you. letting herself into another's mind wasn't something she did lightly; only if the means called for it. no matter how angry, how hurt she was, she recognized it still as something precious, the privacy of one's personal thoughts, what hides there in the corners with the knowing that no one could listen.
he guides her towards the crisply made bed and it reminds her of her hotel room, big enough to swallow her entirely, only now with cooler toned fabrics, something dark to hide in. it tempts her, but she knows the moment she's down there's no part of her that'll be willing to get back up. to think she used to complain over restless nights — now, there's a nagging within her that wants to fight sleep from taking her. that knows the sooner she falls asleep, the sooner she'll wake to find him gone.
she's tired, reflexes something lazy, and it's only once he's reaching for her with his opposite hand that she recognizes the familiar lace of fingers with hers in the other. the tension is thick when she pulls it free, only to wrap lithe arms around her own frame, as if she could hold all of the wounded pieces within her together.
a slight hesitation, but she nods in reply, a silent permission, averting her gaze across the room. )
I, ah—I should shower. ( she attempts to clear her throat, to find something steadier in anticipation of his hand at her cheek, but it still comes up quiet. worn and unsure. ) I'll shower and then... I just need to sleep, and I'll be fine.
he guides her towards the crisply made bed and it reminds her of her hotel room, big enough to swallow her entirely, only now with cooler toned fabrics, something dark to hide in. it tempts her, but she knows the moment she's down there's no part of her that'll be willing to get back up. to think she used to complain over restless nights — now, there's a nagging within her that wants to fight sleep from taking her. that knows the sooner she falls asleep, the sooner she'll wake to find him gone.
she's tired, reflexes something lazy, and it's only once he's reaching for her with his opposite hand that she recognizes the familiar lace of fingers with hers in the other. the tension is thick when she pulls it free, only to wrap lithe arms around her own frame, as if she could hold all of the wounded pieces within her together.
a slight hesitation, but she nods in reply, a silent permission, averting her gaze across the room. )
I, ah—I should shower. ( she attempts to clear her throat, to find something steadier in anticipation of his hand at her cheek, but it still comes up quiet. worn and unsure. ) I'll shower and then... I just need to sleep, and I'll be fine.
[ she's pulling away from him to wedge distance between them.
familiarity surrounds him. he knows every crevice in this room, including all its trap doors, all the hidden weapons, the IV hookups, each piece of folded clothing. but her presence feels cold and unfamiliar when her hand slips away from his, and he's left curling his fingers into his palms to resist reaching out again.
he understands. really, he does. she doesn't need to make it any more obvious as she shields herself from him. the arms that used to wrap around him wrap around herself instead, as if he's a threat.
his touch hesitates before he pushes forward, warmly cupping along the curve of her jaw. he can't help the way his thumb skims along her tear-crusted cheeks. her gaze is cast across the room, but he can't blame her. even in the dim lighting, her skin looks sickly and the colour around her neck winds tight. concern pinches across his brow. images of her, struggling, pulling against constraints, what she would've gone through to end up here, to have broken through and stand in front of him, exhausted, still fighting to be strong.
how could he blame her when the only one to blame is him? ]
Yeah. [ he agrees, punctuating with a nod before his hand drops from her face. ] Just over here. [ he turns, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she's following before pushing open the cracked door to the generous ensuite. again, dimly lit, clean and luxurious. ]
Let me help you. I know you're okay but--I need to make sure. [ it's asking a lot, he knows. and if she says no, he'll step away from her, but he can't help the need to ask. he needs to chart all the bruises on her body, wipe away all the grime, figure out what hurts and what he can kiss away. ] It'll hurt less if you let me help you.
familiarity surrounds him. he knows every crevice in this room, including all its trap doors, all the hidden weapons, the IV hookups, each piece of folded clothing. but her presence feels cold and unfamiliar when her hand slips away from his, and he's left curling his fingers into his palms to resist reaching out again.
he understands. really, he does. she doesn't need to make it any more obvious as she shields herself from him. the arms that used to wrap around him wrap around herself instead, as if he's a threat.
his touch hesitates before he pushes forward, warmly cupping along the curve of her jaw. he can't help the way his thumb skims along her tear-crusted cheeks. her gaze is cast across the room, but he can't blame her. even in the dim lighting, her skin looks sickly and the colour around her neck winds tight. concern pinches across his brow. images of her, struggling, pulling against constraints, what she would've gone through to end up here, to have broken through and stand in front of him, exhausted, still fighting to be strong.
how could he blame her when the only one to blame is him? ]
Yeah. [ he agrees, punctuating with a nod before his hand drops from her face. ] Just over here. [ he turns, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she's following before pushing open the cracked door to the generous ensuite. again, dimly lit, clean and luxurious. ]
Let me help you. I know you're okay but--I need to make sure. [ it's asking a lot, he knows. and if she says no, he'll step away from her, but he can't help the need to ask. he needs to chart all the bruises on her body, wipe away all the grime, figure out what hurts and what he can kiss away. ] It'll hurt less if you let me help you.
( it all just feels like a long goodbye.
the way she can feel his gaze trace along the ugly hue bisecting her throat as if it were a touch, and she doesn't have to think long to imagine what that might be like, what his mouth feels like peppering the area both slow and quick — he's done it so many times before. the way it takes every bit of restraint still left within her not to lean in to the touch, how he can't help that affectionate brush of fingers. she tries not to burn with it, reminds herself this was only temporary. that's all anything ever was.
relief comes in the fact that she knows, can sense it - at least, that they were protected here. a quiet that wasn't too quiet, windows for walls overlooking the inky nightscape. but her bones feel heavy, burdensome, and she has so many questions — why were they tracking him? why had they come for her again? how many bodies had she left behind when she hadn't looked back?
later, once she's slept, healed, she'd find the answers for herself.
quietly she follows him, still wrapped around herself, and she might appreciate the luxury of it all in different circumstances. she's toeing out of her shoes, and pause finds her again at his offer, back to him where she'd crossed into the cool tile of the room. a stray glance over her shoulder, the stretch tugging sorely at her throat — one last time, he'd said. and she's too weary to fight it, to deny him, that stubborn instinct within her fallen hushed.
again, it's all she can do to nod. she doesn't trust her voice not to betray her, but it doesn't change how vulnerable it feels, bracing her hand against the wall while she finds the hem of her sweater, ignoring the way her ribs ignite as she begins to peel it upward. )
the way she can feel his gaze trace along the ugly hue bisecting her throat as if it were a touch, and she doesn't have to think long to imagine what that might be like, what his mouth feels like peppering the area both slow and quick — he's done it so many times before. the way it takes every bit of restraint still left within her not to lean in to the touch, how he can't help that affectionate brush of fingers. she tries not to burn with it, reminds herself this was only temporary. that's all anything ever was.
relief comes in the fact that she knows, can sense it - at least, that they were protected here. a quiet that wasn't too quiet, windows for walls overlooking the inky nightscape. but her bones feel heavy, burdensome, and she has so many questions — why were they tracking him? why had they come for her again? how many bodies had she left behind when she hadn't looked back?
later, once she's slept, healed, she'd find the answers for herself.
quietly she follows him, still wrapped around herself, and she might appreciate the luxury of it all in different circumstances. she's toeing out of her shoes, and pause finds her again at his offer, back to him where she'd crossed into the cool tile of the room. a stray glance over her shoulder, the stretch tugging sorely at her throat — one last time, he'd said. and she's too weary to fight it, to deny him, that stubborn instinct within her fallen hushed.
again, it's all she can do to nod. she doesn't trust her voice not to betray her, but it doesn't change how vulnerable it feels, bracing her hand against the wall while she finds the hem of her sweater, ignoring the way her ribs ignite as she begins to peel it upward. )
[ they’ve both done this too many times, he knows, dealing with the fallout on a scene, then nursing its impact on their bodies. alone, with others, with each other, sharing the vulnerability of being only flesh and bones. he’s seen her powers and knows the destruction she’s capable of. he picked through it earlier, trying to find her in the midst of it, but here, as he tries to physically and emotionally steady her, she feels just as fragile as the rest of them. how terrible it is to be so fond of something so fragile.
he steps in close to her when he catches the nod. it’s relieving that she’ll at least accept his help, and he reminds himself over and over again that that’s all it is. but more than that, it’s an exercise in restraint, as the suffocating, bitter anger furiously blooms in his chest again with every inch of her skin that’s exposed. it darkens in his eyes, in the tightness in his jaw, the furrow of his brow as he lifts the fabric up and over, still careful as ever to pull it around her chin before he drops it to the floor. ]
They’re gonna fucking regret this. [ he seethes. it’s low and controlled, the cold wrath in his voice contrasting darkly against his hands that softly float over the bruising around her midsection. the swelling is so ugly, lodging in his heart as his mouth draws tight. he tilts his head to see the extent of the colouring as it wraps around her body, shaking his head.
broken ribs, probably, especially with the way she relies so heavily on the wall. his fingers find her waistband to undo its clasps. ]
How the fuck did they find out about you—[ he pushes fabric down her legs, warm palms skating along her thighs as the material bunches around his wrists. he drops to a knee. ] Hold on to me, [ he suggests, but it comes in the form of a curt command. this part of him was never supposed to exist with her, but now, it's undeniable. a hand finds the back of her calf to lift her leg. ]
he steps in close to her when he catches the nod. it’s relieving that she’ll at least accept his help, and he reminds himself over and over again that that’s all it is. but more than that, it’s an exercise in restraint, as the suffocating, bitter anger furiously blooms in his chest again with every inch of her skin that’s exposed. it darkens in his eyes, in the tightness in his jaw, the furrow of his brow as he lifts the fabric up and over, still careful as ever to pull it around her chin before he drops it to the floor. ]
They’re gonna fucking regret this. [ he seethes. it’s low and controlled, the cold wrath in his voice contrasting darkly against his hands that softly float over the bruising around her midsection. the swelling is so ugly, lodging in his heart as his mouth draws tight. he tilts his head to see the extent of the colouring as it wraps around her body, shaking his head.
broken ribs, probably, especially with the way she relies so heavily on the wall. his fingers find her waistband to undo its clasps. ]
How the fuck did they find out about you—[ he pushes fabric down her legs, warm palms skating along her thighs as the material bunches around his wrists. he drops to a knee. ] Hold on to me, [ he suggests, but it comes in the form of a curt command. this part of him was never supposed to exist with her, but now, it's undeniable. a hand finds the back of her calf to lift her leg. ]
( it was so rarely that she was ever the one hurt, so often left unscathed. there wasn’t much out there that could contest the chaos that brimmed within her, that she’d been born with. the mind stone was only a catalyst. if it weren’t for him, she’d be nursing the frailer parts of herself on her own — she preferred it that way. she didn’t need to trouble anyone else, not any more than she already has, to have anyone fuss over her. it would only be a matter of time before the safe house they’d traveled from would be checked, looking for her, for who did this. scattered as they were, an avenger was never one to sit quietly when one of their own was threatened.
she should reach out to them, the array of messages she’d left untouched, but she’s already sinking into old, familiar habits of fading away. his anger greets her, and she has to wonder if there’s more to this that she doesn’t know, if there’s something he hadn’t told her. she can’t be sure she wants the answer, whether he was a part of this or not. maybe she’s better off not knowing.
small fingers find his shoulder as he kneels before her, clasping pads of her digits to the muscle to steady herself, assisting him in lifting each of her legs to tug denim from her ankles. her brows knit in confusion, letting a shaky exhale out into the room. ) Hydra… ( they were dismantled, they’d made sure of it, but there were some that’d gotten away. high ranking officials with venom still in their blood. if a head is cut off, two more shall take its place. but why would they come for her now? )
I don’t understand. ( when he rises again her palm drifts to his front, clasping the fabric there, and it’s then she allows herself to look at him — really look at him, the dirt and sweat smudged across his cheek, the frenetic look in his eyes, the chill of the room creeping up to find exposed flesh. )
They were waiting for you.
she should reach out to them, the array of messages she’d left untouched, but she’s already sinking into old, familiar habits of fading away. his anger greets her, and she has to wonder if there’s more to this that she doesn’t know, if there’s something he hadn’t told her. she can’t be sure she wants the answer, whether he was a part of this or not. maybe she’s better off not knowing.
small fingers find his shoulder as he kneels before her, clasping pads of her digits to the muscle to steady herself, assisting him in lifting each of her legs to tug denim from her ankles. her brows knit in confusion, letting a shaky exhale out into the room. ) Hydra… ( they were dismantled, they’d made sure of it, but there were some that’d gotten away. high ranking officials with venom still in their blood. if a head is cut off, two more shall take its place. but why would they come for her now? )
I don’t understand. ( when he rises again her palm drifts to his front, clasping the fabric there, and it’s then she allows herself to look at him — really look at him, the dirt and sweat smudged across his cheek, the frenetic look in his eyes, the chill of the room creeping up to find exposed flesh. )
They were waiting for you.
[ her gaze stops him cold and her touch pins him in place. he’s long since understood that she’s cast a spell on him without any magic at all. she’ll feel his breath quiver out beneath her touch as she finally looks at him. it completely disarms him, washes over him like a riptide, pulling him under the wave of longing, sorrow, of missing her so bad. ]
I know. [ dark, quiet. ] They used you to get to me. [ his next inhale is shaky, as if it physically pains him to admit it. the situation is so much more complicated than that, and his heart’s torn, parts stuck with her, parts stuck on the battlefield. his hand lifts to envelop her smaller one at his chest. the other finds her cheek again after tucking away dirty, red strands. ]
Wanda, believe me, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. [ he stands close to her, dark eyes pleading, trying to get through to her. ] You weren’t supposed to get hurt like this. I tried to stay away from you. [ he starts shaking his head. ] But I didn't want to.
I know. [ dark, quiet. ] They used you to get to me. [ his next inhale is shaky, as if it physically pains him to admit it. the situation is so much more complicated than that, and his heart’s torn, parts stuck with her, parts stuck on the battlefield. his hand lifts to envelop her smaller one at his chest. the other finds her cheek again after tucking away dirty, red strands. ]
Wanda, believe me, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. [ he stands close to her, dark eyes pleading, trying to get through to her. ] You weren’t supposed to get hurt like this. I tried to stay away from you. [ he starts shaking his head. ] But I didn't want to.
( brows are still pulled into a tuft, gaze sifting between each of his eyes as if she might find some level of understanding, as if it might make it all fit a little more. there hasn’t been any flare up of the organization in years — even throughout her stint in sokovia, even when she’d been tucked away and unresponsive, someone would have told her. to get to him … )
But why would they want—?
( her thoughts are flustered, incoherent and tangled — she can’t think clearly. it’s all she can do to distinguish between the pain wringing throughout her figure and everything that was him. back, here, why? her eyes flutter something slow, hiding in an exhale as he takes hold of her cheek again. the heat beckons to her, again and again, emanating from him, his touch, masking over the frigid tile beneath her feet, the silent, aching privacy around them.
there’s so much welling inside of her that she doesn’t know where to put it, where to hide it, and finally tears prick at her gaze. )
I don’t need you to protect me. ( her head shakes into his palm, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. ) If that’s why you’re here, if that’s the only reason, please—for me, don’t. I can’t. ( the brief syllables splinter. do this again, let you in just to have you leave. )
But why would they want—?
( her thoughts are flustered, incoherent and tangled — she can’t think clearly. it’s all she can do to distinguish between the pain wringing throughout her figure and everything that was him. back, here, why? her eyes flutter something slow, hiding in an exhale as he takes hold of her cheek again. the heat beckons to her, again and again, emanating from him, his touch, masking over the frigid tile beneath her feet, the silent, aching privacy around them.
there’s so much welling inside of her that she doesn’t know where to put it, where to hide it, and finally tears prick at her gaze. )
I don’t need you to protect me. ( her head shakes into his palm, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. ) If that’s why you’re here, if that’s the only reason, please—for me, don’t. I can’t. ( the brief syllables splinter. do this again, let you in just to have you leave. )
[ useless, all of it, her question of why, as if there was ever a good answer to why she was hurt in his place, why they were ever betrayed, why hydra needs to hurt so many people, who he couldn’t have better prevented it.
he shakes his head as she does, heart wrenching with the wetness dotting her tearline. no, no more crying for him. ]
I am here because of you, Wanda, for you, why else— [ he clamps down on the emotion bubbling up, hot and stinging. his hand on hers lifts to cradle her nape, unable to stop the way his voice frays. how can he explain? the words are so elusive. his lips part and an inhale sticks in his throat. ] I’m sorry, [ he repeats, ] I thought I could do something to stop them from knowing about us, but now— [ now, maybe there is no us. ]
You mean so much to me.
he shakes his head as she does, heart wrenching with the wetness dotting her tearline. no, no more crying for him. ]
I am here because of you, Wanda, for you, why else— [ he clamps down on the emotion bubbling up, hot and stinging. his hand on hers lifts to cradle her nape, unable to stop the way his voice frays. how can he explain? the words are so elusive. his lips part and an inhale sticks in his throat. ] I’m sorry, [ he repeats, ] I thought I could do something to stop them from knowing about us, but now— [ now, maybe there is no us. ]
You mean so much to me.
( but she isn't crying for him. it's an angry swell, it's confusion, frustration that she doesn't have all of the answers in front of her like she wants them, why she can't ever seem to have anything good without it being torn from her. he'd left and they'd still gone after her, gone after them, as if they'd only made themselves easier targets by finding something that meant anything at all. doesn't he see? she comes with everything he's trying to hide her from. )
They will always know about me. ( if it wasn't HYDRA, it would be someone else, something else. they were better together, stronger together — she wasn't any semblance of a normal girl with a normal life, wasn't someone he had to explain this life to. rubble and running was all she knew. to run from her would just be running from himself. )
About you, what we do— ( what they've done, together or apart, the names they've made for themselves whether they want them or not. )
I've lost everything. ( the words are a low tremble, a hint of her accent grazing tiredly from her tongue. the tears betray her, no matter how she wills them away, no matter how long she's tried to convince herself she's actually healed, stumbling hot across her cheek. ) They can't take anything else. ( a beat, a sound that can only be ascribed to exhaustion, defeat shaking unsteadily from her with a breath. )
Only you.
They will always know about me. ( if it wasn't HYDRA, it would be someone else, something else. they were better together, stronger together — she wasn't any semblance of a normal girl with a normal life, wasn't someone he had to explain this life to. rubble and running was all she knew. to run from her would just be running from himself. )
About you, what we do— ( what they've done, together or apart, the names they've made for themselves whether they want them or not. )
I've lost everything. ( the words are a low tremble, a hint of her accent grazing tiredly from her tongue. the tears betray her, no matter how she wills them away, no matter how long she's tried to convince herself she's actually healed, stumbling hot across her cheek. ) They can't take anything else. ( a beat, a sound that can only be ascribed to exhaustion, defeat shaking unsteadily from her with a breath. )
Only you.
Page 1 of 3