Work Text:
the scars i can’t reverse
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It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She wasn’t supposed to care.
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Marissa’s never been good about working with someone. She’s jaded from years of betrayal; always expecting it, now - even when she’s the one who’s condemned so many people. In her line of work, you can’t trust anyone, especially a genetically-enhanced teenage girl who Marissa had spent months trying to bring into custody.
But when you’re two people up against half of the entire U.S. government, trust is required, because there’s literally no one else to confide in.
Hanna is the same ally as she was an enemy; ruthless, ridiculously intelligent and with plenty of healthy instincts to go with. She’s willing to do whatever to achieve their goal, and she can do whatever she’s tasked with, whether it be going in guns blazing or quiet, slow espionage; she can do it all, and she does.
But sometimes, just every once in a while, something on Hanna’s face will shift and she will look so genuinely young that Marissa feels her heart break anew every time. In her defense, it’s easy to forget how young Hanna is - Hanna knows that as well as anyone, uses it to her own advantage. She's fifteen, not even an adult, and yet there is a maturity in her face that Marissa has seen forty year-olds lack.
That's what happens when you're born to kill, she supposes.
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They rarely get the chance to fight side-by-side. There’s no overarching reason as to why not; they’re just usually in different countries working on equally important things and they don’t get a chance to collaborate directly often. Marissa hasn’t been a field agent for years, but Hanna is fifteen and Marissa isn’t going to send a fifteen year-old to do a job she wouldn’t do herself, even if this particular fifteen year-old is probably one of the deadliest people in the entire world.
But when the times line up - when the stakes are too big for just one of them to go, when they need someone to watch their back and they have no one else, well. It almost goes far too well for Marissa’s liking.
She hasn’t been a field agent for years, but it’s not exactly something that’s easy to forget. However, she doesn’t remember it being so…. easy.
People can be tricky. Even the most experienced of soldiers can and will falter, and that’s ultimately what will end up getting them all killed. But Hanna’s smarter than that. She takes orders without a second thought and has the instincts of a seasoned assassin. If Marissa tells her to move, she moves, and if that movement happens to put her in danger, she takes that into account as well. It’s her instincts that save their lives more than once, too - Marissa learns that if Hanna says we need to go, she means it. If Hanna says one, left, then Marissa is to aim that way, and if Hanna says left then Marissa is to duck now, lest she take a bullet to the head.
Hanna’s instincts are always right. It's unclear whether that talent is due to the decidedly-not human genes under her skin, or because her father figure had been one of the best soldiers of his time.
Either way, that combination has created one of the most dangerous people Marissa’s ever seen, and it’s only by a couple strokes of luck that they’re on the same side.
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She picks up after seven rings. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Marissa demands. “Why didn’t you answer?”
“Sorry,” Hanna says, breathing heavily into the phone. “I am a bit busy at the moment.” There’s the sound of a gunshot, too loud for Marissa’s comfort. Then another. Then a shifting sound that makes her think Hanna’s found a new place to take cover. At least she knows where she is now, but that brings up a new myriad of problems.
Marissa grips the steering wheel until her knuckles have gone white. “I cannot believe you went without me,” she says, rushing to pull out of her parking space. “I’m still seven minutes away.”
Hanna hums in acknowledgement. There’s more gunshots, even louder than before. Marissa hopes they’re from her shooting back and not whoever’s shooting at her getting closer. Someone far away yelps - goes down. Hanna’s good.
“I'll be alive,” Hanna says, voice irritably light. “I'll meet you in the back. Be ready to drive.”
They don't talk after that, though they keep the call going, just in case. Marissa’s sure she breaks several traffic laws, but that’s not exactly the worst thing she’s ever done in her life, and the license plates are fakes, anyway.
Hanna stays alive.
She comes barrelling into the car the instant Marissa pulls up in the back of the building, aiming a few more wild shots somewhere behind her. No one shoots back immediately, but Marissa speeds away nonetheless.
“Did you get the information?” Marissa asks first. “Are you hurt?”
Hanna holds up a small thumbdrive in her slightly dramatic way that means I’m proud of myself. Teenagers will be teenagers, apparently. “Not hurt,” she says, after a moment, like she wasn't even sure herself. “Just a sore back.”
“You need to stop being so reckless,” Marissa goes on, shooting her a glare as she turns right. “We could have just as easily done this tomorrow, like we planned.”
There’s a small huff of laughter; Hanna doesn’t laugh often, and when she does, it never sounds quite right, like she’d never learned how. It’s not something Marissa usually hears, so she glances over once more, to make sure it was actually a laugh and not an ‘I’ve been shot’ noise. Her roots are coming in; they’ll probably need to dye her hair again soon. She’s reloading her gun casually, unhurt, so Marissa relaxes a little.
But still… “I’m serious, Hanna. Anything could have gone wrong, and then where would we be?”
“Sorry,” Hanna says, looking somewhat startled. “Sometimes it’s just easier, is all. Only watching out for myself. I forget I’m on a team now.”
“Well, start remembering.” Marissa sighs. She adds, lighter, “This is why I never wanted children.” and Hanna laughs again.
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“I don’t think I would do well with a normal family,” Hanna says once, unprompted, when she’s feeling particularly cheerful. “It would be too boring.” Her eyes are trained on something far below them; Marissa follows her gaze and finds two adults swinging their child back and forth, wide smiles on their faces. The child is laughing.
Marissa tries to find it funny, like Hanna had intended, rather than one of the saddest things she’s ever heard. “Wouldn’t you like to have someone who cares about you?” She doesn’t say like some of the people I’ve killed, but it’s implied well enough. Forgiveness has long since passed.
Hanna ponders that for a moment; she always does. Always gives every question good thought, no matter how small or big. She meets Marissa’s eyes.
“I have you, don’t I?”
….Ah.
Marissa looks away before she responds, because vulnerability is weakness and to be weak is to be killed.
“I suppose so.”
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Marissa’s not sure why she doesn't tell Hanna about her father. Maybe it's because she doesn't want the girl to see her as weak, maybe it's because she doesn't want to think about him herself; maybe it’s neither of those, and maybe it’s some combination of the two.
Hanna still finds out. Hanna always finds out.
And it changes nothing. They work on and Hanna treats her no differently. Marissa’s so tired; Hanna’s getting pushed to her breaking point as well, and caring is hard, but they try.
When Marissa is forced to leave a shot and bleeding Hanna behind, left alone to fend for herself against him, she kisses her forehead and runs. She nearly gags on her own tongue every time she thinks about Hanna in there, and so she doesn’t try to think about it very often, but it’s hard. She’s always on edge, always pacing, unable to sleep. Her father… if anyone can break Hanna, he can.
(He doesn’t, but he comes close. Hanna’s stronger than Marissa was, though, and because of that, Hanna outsmarts them all.)
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In the end, Marissa kills her father. She shoots him as he shoots her, but her bullet is more accurate.
He asks her to take his hand, even as he lies there, dying from a bullet wound she’s inflicted on him. He reaches out, says it’s cold, says please, Cookie, take my hand and love me one last time and she doesn't. She stands tall until he is gone and only then does she allow herself to collapse. She doesn't give him the satisfaction of letting him know it's him who kills her. All he dies knowing is that she killed him, and that's the best revenge she could have ever gotten from him.
She almost doesn't want Hanna to find her, but she does. She hears her coming; small, cautious steps, because Hanna’s probably never not going to be paranoid. Which, concerning her profession, is definitely not a bad thing. She sees Marissa and her steps falter, just for a second. Marissa wishes she has good news, but gut wounds are awful even with a hospital in close vicinity.
Hanna leans down and asks, “How bad is it?” even though she already knows. A whisper of hope, but neither she nor Marissa have ever been the hoping type.
Marissa shakes her head. “It’s done,” she says. Hanna’s eyes slide right, finds the Chairman’s corpse lying a few feet away. “It’s done,” Marissa croaks again, “it’s done.” And then, because now she’s beginning to understand what he meant when he said it’s cold and it feels as if her hands are beginning to freeze, “Stay with me?”
A beat. Hanna blinks down at her, for a moment, and then takes her hand unprompted. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Your hands are really warm,” Marissa says, thankful. Something’s rising in her stomach; not pain, but something just as familiar. Grief? She’s unsure. “Hanna,” she goes on, “I hated you for so long. But now, I…” She still can't say it.
Hanna understands anyway. “I love you, too,” she says back. Marissa pretends not to see the tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you.” She comes closer, then, until they’re in more of an embrace than anything else. Her chin presses against Marissa’s forehead as she whispers, “Marissa, you are good. You are good, Marissa. You are good.”
Maybe it’s silly to say, but Marissa thinks she dies happy. She dies content, at least; her father rotting beside her and Hanna holding her.
Hanna holds her until she's gone.
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