Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Meredith L. Coulson,” read the gravestone.

I had no reason not to believe it, even though I was breathing, I was lacking in the other area of being alive.

But I had a feeling this was in a very literal sense.

Clutching at the muddy ground, I pulled myself closer to it, my disarray giving my tired body a much-needed adrenaline rush.

My hazy eyes could barely see what I was reading, just a dark jumble of shadows I recognized to have the same length and highs and lows of my name. I opted to believe that I was simply reading it wrong and that my eyes just needed some time to adjust to the darkness.

Rubbing away the dirt on the stone-carved letters, a perfectly timed lightning strike illuminated it, and I was forced to come to the reality that this was a gravestone with my name on it.

As my eyes finally adjusted to look through the slight rain, I could see that it wasn’t rain at all, but it was a flurry of snow. We haven’t had snow in May in years.

I brought myself to my feet, leaning against my gravestone to pull myself up when I noticed the gravestone next to mine.

“Phillip J. Coulson.”

Except that one was real. The dirt still piled on top, grass sprouting from it, a light snow freshly coating it as I stared in bewilderment.

The winds whistled around me, sending a chill to my body. My shoulders tensed, blood rushing to my head as the hairs on my neck stood straight up when I could sense someone was near.

“Something really strange is going on,” I said to the person standing behind me, in a shaky tone I tried my best to steady.

“Well, Meredith, it’s gotten to be that way since the woman who died a year ago fell from the sky,” He raised a gun up at me. “Who are you?”

Chapter Text

"But I'm wasting time! When I grow up, I know I can be one of the best Agents ever."

"Exactly, when you grow up," Dad said, tucking me into my blue bed sheets. "In case you've forgotten, you're still eight."

We were following our nightly routine. In between bath time and bedtime, I usually made a little room to start my begging. And per routine, he'd tell me to think about it a little more before I made my decision.

"The scary guy -with the creepy smile- said that if I start my training now, I could be a level 6 at graduation. That's the same level as yours!" I said excitedly, messing up the covers that my Dad had just tucked me into with great care.

My Dad smiled, and fixed my covers again. "That was a conversation between Dad and Secretary Pierce. Remind me that we need to have a talk about eavesdropping."

"I mean, you were talking about me, so I think it was a little okay," I reasoned.

He sat up from my desk chair and walked over to the bookshelf in my warmly lit room, then picked my favorite book up from the bookshelf.

"Okay, I know Captain America already has a shield, but I think that everyone should have one. But not all like his, because you know..." I explained, giving my head a little shake. He handed me a cup and my nightly vitamins, "people might get mistaken for Captain America, then you'd have to tell him he's dead, then they'd get sad."

He shook his head in understanding with a small chuckle, sitting down in my desk chair next to my bed.

"Vibranium is pretty hard to find though, where are you planning to get all of it?" He asked, and I took my vitamins while he picked the book back up and flipped it open.

"Well, they could make it out of metal, or... steel?" I said, out of breath from gulping down my water like I had been traveling the Sahara.

"That'd seem to be the best substitute," He grinned. He set a scarred hand on top of my brown curls, and gave them a little scrunch, "Great idea."

"You know what else is a good idea?" I said, keeping my eyes on my hands folded in my lap.

"Hmmm-" he took a look around at the mess of this afternoon's princess tea party scattered across my yellow rug. "For you to tidy your room?"

"No- I mean, probably, but no," I looked back at him with a grin.

"Meredith- I know it's your choice, but I'm your Dad," He said, grabbing my attention, "I want to keep you safe. You're just a kid, you don't really understand what a commitment this is. And how dangerous it can be."

"Dad. How many kids do you know can lift a couch above their head?"

"That's a good point," He said after thinking for a second.

"I know."

He looked at me with a little bit of sadness in his eyes, his hand rested on my knee as I waited patiently for him to say something. Anything. But mostly I hoped for a yes.

"Okay. I'll tell Fury that you want to start training, but-" He said, turning my joyed face sour, "Only for two weeks. If I think it's too much, or if you don't like it as much as you think you will, then we'll call it all off. I don't think you'll like it very much, it really sucks. They make you do crazy things, like paperwork and-"

I cut him off, throwing my arms around him immediately. He wrapped me up in a tight hug, squeezing a bit harder than normally.

We held each other for a while until he spoke again.

"If you don't like it, you tell me, okay? I won't be mad or disappointed," Dad pulled away, and looked me in the eyes. "True bravery is walking away when you know you're in danger. I mean that. You hear me?"

"Okay, I promise," I said, without skipping a beat.

"What would you do if it didn't work out?" He said, leaning back in my red desk chair. "You could always just be an accountant. That's always fun."

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, still overjoyed that he was actually going to let me do this. After two years of begging and begging, I was finally going to be able to put my stupid strength to good use.

"Or a zookeeper. Maybe a chef. Maybe even the president," He suggested, still trying to talk me out of it, but it was much too late.

Nothing had sounded more appealing than doing what the person I admire the most did. And that person was my Dad. His stories were filled with adventure, and peril, and heroism that made my boring everyday life with my Nanny all the more boring.

"Well, whatever you do," He sighed, knowing there was no going back now, "just know I'll be proud of you with whatever you decide."

Standing up, Dad started to pick up the orange book he'd set down a few moments before, but then paused and turned back to me.

"Why do you want to become an Agent?" He questioned, folding his hands in his lap. My first interrogation!

I smiled, throwing my covers aside. Leaping out of bed, I skipped to my dresser, opening the top drawer. I dug through my things, pushed aside a magic 8 ball and batman comics and pulled out a light green The Muppets notebook I got for Christmas last year.

Running back over to my Dad, I sat in his lap and opened it up, revealing a very detailed list of reasons that I'd previously written down.

In a bubble-gum pink glitter pen, I had written down my first reason.

"#1: Because Dad is cool and I want to be just like him when I grow up."

"Is something wrong with it?" I asked him. I was too engrossed in reading my own reasons and coming up with more to notice how quiet he was.

"I've got something for you. I think you'll like it," He said, after reading all the reasons. "But you have to get tucked into bed by the time I get back."

He stood up, and I jumped into my bed, searching frantically for my Kermit stuffie. He was ragged and old, but I couldn't go a night without him.

I lay motionless, on my back, hands to my side, looking at the ceiling waiting for my Dad to come back.

It took all my power not to look up when he came back in, eager to see what he had for me.

"Sit up, calmly," He instructed, his hands behind his back.

Carefully, I sat up and folded my hands in my lap. "Is it a lunchbox? The Batman one from the store we saw last Tuesday?"

He laughed, "No, we're saving that for Christmas. I've got something a little less exciting, but a lot more special."

Dad reached in his pocket, and pulled out something that he hid in his palm.

"Close your eyes, and hold out your hands," He said, and I did so.

Something cold and smooth hit my palm. A spherical object, but with a tiny bit of texture, a thin chain attached to the top.

He told me to open my eyes, so I did, and I saw something not quite as cool as a Batman lunchbox, but it was beautiful.

"It's a family heirloom," he explained as I looked at it in awe.

The chain was silver, and it was attached to a metal ball, painted with green and blue to look like the earth, the metal slightly raised for the land areas.

A tiny golden key stuck out of the bottom.

"Turn it clockwise," He winked, and I looked in amazement as I cranked it.

Dainty little chimes began to play a familiar tune that reminded me of raindrops bouncing off the ground.

It was my lullaby.

My Grandma used to sing it to my Dad, and when he adopted me, he sang it to me almost every night while tucking me in, no matter how hard his day had been.

"All across the globe..." My mind filled in the lyrics. "You are a wonder, unknown."

"Meredith, I need you to know something very important. And I apologize for my bluntness, but if I don't say it like it is, I'm afraid I never will. You may not understand it now, but someday you will," Dad said over the music.

"Okay..." I said, still enthralled with my new necklace.

"Pierce doesn't care about you. He doesn't want you to become an Agent because you want to and he wants to make you happy, he's manipulating you using your emotions to make you do what he wants."

"What does he want?"

"An asset. And you have to promise me that you will never, ever see yourself as an asset," Dad said, bending down to get me to look him in the eyes.

"What's an asset?" I asked, picking up his gaze.

"Someone or something that can be used to make things easier or give someone an advantage," he explained. "That's not what you are. You're a human."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I promise."

Even now, at 20 years old, I can still remember making the promise, slowly letting it break over the years and stashing away the pieces from his view.

I clutched the very same necklace I was given that day. But instead of feeling close to my Dad every time I was away, I felt a little farther away.

Sometimes I wonder if I was ever cut out for the emotional aspect of this life.

Everything about myself has a twinge of tragedy in it. A lady with a watercolor heart in the bones of a woman born with a clenched fist.

But if there's anything you need to know, in case you misunderstood how I actually feel about my life, I like it enough.

I like what I do, and I like how I do it. I like who I do it for.

Do I really think so? Or do I just feel like I'm sinning when I don't do anything when I can?

My best bet was to blame it on my upbringing.

Yeah, I like the rush, but I like the absence of guilt when I do something right when given the choice a lot better.

But who even has time to think about the essence of their existence when it's in jeopardy at every fleeting moment of their life?

It was clear that it very well was not me, as I was currently in the thick of the amazon, my entire calf mushy with the stickiest mud that I'd ever waded in.

"Are you going to speak to me, or just look stupid with that look on your face while we're literally knee-deep in mud? Because it looks hilarious, I really wish you could see it," said Ben Willter- My partner, my best friend, the other half of my entire soul, and the only person that I'd let anger me anyday and get away with it.

I didn't reply to his question.

Because even if he was someone who brought the most joy to my life, lately, he'd been bringing more baggage and more problems than anything.

And to be honest, I was giving him the silent treatment.

"Fine. Be like that," he said, to no one at all.

I knew he was desperately trying to redeem himself, but it wouldn't work until I got a real apology. And as I'd started to notice more and more these days, those were scarce.

In fact, Ben was the only reason we were wading through mud, because it was the only way left to the hideout of a supposed illegal weapons dealer. Usually when you put weapons dealers in Argentina, it means they've got secrets. Not the sort you'd share at a slumber party, but the ones that cause wars. Terrorism.

Right now, we're pinning the motivation on "for fun". Or more professionally speaking, "Money, power, and glory."

Obviously, terrorism is wrong at any price.

Ben did the worst thing possible to do at a time like this.

"Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I should've listened. I should've known that you always knew better and that you've never taken risks before."

There's his apology, if you couldn't tell. I could, but it was barely acceptable, and I knew he could do a lot better.

I really hate him sometimes.

But as someone who knows him, I know very well that the silent treatment beats him up more than me punching him.

I felt something graze my arm as the mud got deeper, almost up to my thighs.

My shoulders shuddered as I felt my stomach turn, eyes squeezing shut, trying not to imagine the worst. But the only thing my mind could think about was a 9 foot python slithering around my throat, contracting its scaly skin around my body.

The more I thought about it, the more I began to realize I probably wouldn't mind dying that way. But dying by sinking into mud? Pathetic and lame.

"Meredith. It's too deep. We have to turn back," Ben said, a quiver in his voice. I wondered if the python had made its way over to Willter.

I huffed.

"No need to be passive aggressive," Ben said, shaking his hand to fling off a piece of mud.

As much as I wanted to leave him at our own basepoint, I knew I needed to bring him along to watch my six.

I'm an independent person, but I know that teamwork is necessary if we want to succeed.

Even if we hate our partners, we still need them if we want to complete missions. Unless our partners suck at being partners, like Ben, who had hindered the mission more than he had helped it.

I pushed my feet through the thick sludge of the mud, headed straight for Ben.

"Hey now, listen, I know you're mad but let's be rational," He pleaded, fear plastered across his sweaty, muddy face.

He gasped in fear as I picked up his 5'8 body and tossed it over my shoulders, and fought the urge to simply throw him over to the other side.

I almost did.

"Okay, yeah," Ben said, adjusting himself, "this is fine, quite comfortable. Wish there were cup holders..."

Unfortunately, he was stiff as a board, making it hard to steadily hold him there for the next 6 minutes of fighting through the mud, having to leave our vehicle behind.

Last time, we didn't have to walk through it. Because I had a plan.

As if it weren't already a pain in my side to carry him through it, mother nature decided to stab me in the heart by cursing us with rainfall.

First it started with a drop, and then a full on rainstorm.

We were still about 40 feet away from the now moist land. It was still better than this nightmarish sludge that started to smell like death incarnate.

I waited for the python to snatch me away and drag me under without any fight at all. But I would be sure to drag Willter down with me.

"Can you... Be quicker?" Ben suggested. "It's getting wet up here."

"You've got immeasurable nerve," I said. If you've ever felt the feeling of almost humorous stupidity, you'd know exactly how frustrating and gleeful it is.

How freeing it is to know that you don't owe them any wisdom, because they won't even take it, so what would be the point of it?

There is none.

So I just laughed at his arrogance. Because when you think about it, it truly is hilarious.

"Sorry for asking," he said, and I blinked away water that was becoming droplets on my eyelashes.

"I could probably go faster if you weren't such a scaredy-cat," I said, picking up my pace, "You should be able to handle mud up to your neck."

"You're exaggerating," he muttered.

Grabbing onto his ankles and back, I tossed him back over my shoulders and straight into the mud.

And then continued on, walking twice as fast as before to the soothing sounds of Willter choking on mud.

"You couldn't have tossed me to dry land?" He asked.

I turned back around to face him, met with a very muddy Willter. "You are never satisfied. I give you a simple plan, but no, you can't be cooperative with anything ever. So you have to make up a way to make things so much more complicated for everyone. And for what, Ben? For what?"

"Oh? Oh? You were the one who threw me in the mud. According to the book of complication," he mocked, "which I apparently have studied- throwing people in the mud is in there at least two times."

"And going against direct orders 37 times," I said, referencing his agent number.

Ben had a tendency to make things way more complicated than they should be. Why? I don't know, he just does it.

Maybe he does it to show off.

Whatever it was, it made it so incredibly hard to trust him. This is the second time this has happened in the field.

Two times too many.

Wet and disgustingly muddy, I climbed my way to the shore, and looked back at Willter, who was at least 10 feet from the land.

"See? Now you're slowing me down."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours, smartie pants," I said, smiling and scrunching my nose as I emphasized my words with exaggerated head tilts.

For the past four or so months, we'd been having problems. At first it was easy to ignore. Simply our egos swinging for each other's neck.

It used to be playful banter.

But then we took it too far.

We'd fight, we'd make up. And he'd act almost like he loved me.

Not just as friends as I preferred, but like he loved me romantically.

It wasn't hard to miss, so everyone knew about our "back-and-forth" relationship. But then wash, rinse, repeat, he'd go back to his pretentious shenanigans.

Ben crawled to shore, covered head-to-toe in mud.

So I continued walking forward, through the thick brush and the violent rain, biting at my face.

Despite the harsh winds that came with the rain, the rainforest was still warm enough to keep us both sweating.

The sun was slowly disappearing in the horizon, and I assumed the time to be around 5:45.

Even though people have warned me that it would only hurt worse in the long run, I couldn't seem to break things off with him. We just clicked so perfectly into place from the moment we met.

We just needed some space, and a little bit of time.

But it was incredibly hard to get time and space whenever we kept getting put on missions like these.

"Okay, okay, listen, alright? I should've obeyed orders, but-"

"And stop."

"What?"

"That's it. You don't need to say anything else. Just ' sorry' is fine. No trying to defend yourself. Just own up to it and move on," I said, finally snapping with a piercing look at Ben.

"So I can't defend myself?" Ben said. He raised a muddy eyebrow with an attitude that willed my anger to spill over.

"You can. But defense isn't a part of an apology," I said, "I know why you did it. You know why you did it. Why create more problems than you already have?"

Ben was dumbfounded, a veil of silence over his dimly lit face.

"Why do you think I did it?" He asked, his voice becoming more and more hard to listen to with every word.

"Because you thought it would work out better. I'm sure you have your reasons. They're probably good ones too. But that doesn't excuse you from doing it without permission."

"I'd figured you would be a lot more gracious about this," Willter shot back, "Usually friends are."

"We aren't friends on the field, Ben," I said. The words had slipped right out of my mouth. "I am in charge by the orders of Fury. You don't get to disobey me. Alright? So whatever you're trying to do, maybe impress me to get past your insecurities because you're short or something, I wouldn't know because you never tell me anything, but don't put other people in danger. You signed up for this, you need to understand that you sacrifice everything on the battlefield. Including your insecurities. So man-up."

I could practically see his heart drop to his feet, and the color quickly disappeared from his face.

The sting was deep, but I felt no remorse as I held my head high. It needed to be said, and I being the one to say it was the only way it was ever going to happen.

"There are lives of people I love that you put at stake. We wouldn't be in this mess if you had just listened to me," I continued, "And god, you should pray you get lucky when we get there."

It was too real to face the fact that his mistake might've really gotten our troops killed.

Ben said nothing. I said nothing. We just kept walking. Like real professionals.

The rain dripped down my face, and I did a good job at making sure I didn't cry. There's no crying in the field.

But I could hear Ben sniffling. If I were to ask about it, he'd tell me it was allergies. He doesn't have allergies. I know because he took me on a picnic in a field of soft clovers about a year ago to celebrate my birthday. And we were no longer in warm beds of flowers.

The stark contrast from that day to now felt heavy.

There were better things to think about now.

Even though the rain was loud, I could hear it loud and clear when my walkie talkie began to pick up a signal. "Loki has escaped his cell. New York is under attack."

Ben and I ducked down silently, trying to stifle the loudness to keep ourselves undercover. We were too close to the enemy base to keep arguing, but the tension between us didn't fade after our words did.

We spent at least 3 minutes face-down in the dirt, having to deal with the taste of mud in our mouths and potential spiders scattering over us.

I began to crawl towards the treeline and out of the dirt road we'd been walking on, Ben following behind me.

We crept into the tree line, and stood up when we were at least 10 feet deep in the trees.

The base was about 1 mile away at this point.

These woods were scary enough, and somehow, the fortress-like base of our enemies had made the atmosphere even eerier.

Like a metropolis of evil, about a hundred small buildings of metal surrounded an incredibly tall brick structure that somewhat resembles a Mississippi steamboat, with large smoke tunnels coming from the top, filling the air with smoke.

It looked like a depression era shanty town on super soldier steroids.

Which meant they had either already been used for malicious intent, or were about to be.

Ben and I had already taken it on once, which obviously failed, but the good thing is that I now know my way around enough to devise a better plan.

And that I will be making him infiltrate the base by the sewers.

"Do I have to?" Ben asked in a low whisper, looking into the dark hole with a scrunched brow.

"Did you have to ruin the mission?"

He squinted at my tiny wave goodbye before sliding into the sewers, a large gag echoing out as I heard his feet hit the ground with a splash.

"Remember, don't hit it until 6:17," I ordered, and he responded with another choked gag.

Putting the lid back on the sewer, I let out a sigh of relief, finally able to get rid of him in the best way possible.

For at least 20 minutes.

I made my way to the back of the base, checking the time as I pressed my back behind every other tree I passed, trying to stay out of sight.

Which, obviously, didn't work for long.

The base had a tall, aged, wall that surrounded it, a ledge on the top for troops to look out for people like me.

I dug my gun from the inside of my shirt, pulling it out and close to me as I took a glance at the wall.

Three enemy guards paced across the ledge.

Holding my breath, I took several quick shots, watching them fall to the ground in a single sweep.

I didn't have much time until they discovered we were back for more, so I ran as fast as I could through the thick jungle brush up to the stone wall, taking my mud drenched grappling hook from my belt.

Using just enough strength, I tossed it up to the top, giving it a tug and feeling it tighten against the metal safety bar.

I gripped the rope tightly, bits of mud falling off of it as I pulled myself to the top.

My body fell over the edge as I pushed myself over the safety bar, hitting the metal with a loud clunk. I was practically banging pots and pans together.

By now, Ben should have gotten to the middle of the compound, underground.

The plan was simple; Ben will put a timed explosive on the bottom of a manhole cover by the entrance, causing a distraction, and to put a second near the armory after stealing uniforms, closing off their source of weapons and giving us an advantage. Then, we'll meet in the middle of the chaos.

The timestamp came. 6:17.

I waited.

At five seconds, I began to regret trusting Willter, again.

At six seconds, I always knew he could do it.

Chaos broke loose as I watched Willter spring from a manhole directly across from me, hands full of clothes and masks, along with a proud smile plastered across his face.

And just as I suspected, no one noticed him as they all rushed towards the front gates.

Except for one.

I pulled out my gun, shooting at the guard who was aiming at Willter, who was blissfully unaware as he sprinted across the chaos of soldiers.

Ben shook a fist in celebration as a large smile spread across his face, his grimy cheeks pink.

Throwing myself over the wall, I met him at the ground, hiding behind one of the small metal huts.

"Why the six seconds?" I asked playfully as I threw on the black jacket over my previously green button down, tying it in the front and adjusting my sleeves.

Ben looked up from his tedious buttoning with an unreadable look on his face.

"What?" I asked, grabbing a swat-style helmet from his arms.

"Are you serious right now?" He asked, my eyes beginning to tear from how awful he smelled.

"It's just a joke," I said. I pulled my jacket collar up around my neck, covering my copious amounts of curly brown hair.

"Whatever," Ben scoffed, putting his helmet on, and I noticed two ventilation holes in the top. I took note of it to report to Fury. Our helmets usually made me claustrophobic, and vents would most likely help that.

"I'm giving you a chance, let's go," I ordered, leading the way.

We blended in perfectly as we joined the chaos, following a random guard away from the chaos and into a muddy alley, smoke from one of the hut's chimneys causing the air to fog up. It was a good way to hide ourselves.

"Hey!" I yelled to a random guard, who was all alone loading their gun.

They looked up, their face covered by a helmet similar to ours, but I could tell by the way their posture snapped upwards that they weren't going to challenge me.

"Where's your radio? I lost mine," I lied, "You know how it is. Those pesky things will crawl out of your pockets when you're not looking."

The guard handed me their radio, a shake in their hand as I snatched it away.

Throwing it on the ground, I smashed it under my boot.

Ben grabbed their collar as they tried to run away from us, wrestling their arms behind their back into submission.

I pulled out my gun, letting them get a quick glance at it as they struggled to escape.

Using the gun, I flipped the helmet off their face, revealing a young Argentinian girl, with dark brown eyes like my own, a large gash on her cheek.

The look in her eyes pleaded for mercy as her chin quivered in the slightest, and I immediately softened my gaze as I looked her up and down.

With one look I could immediately tell what was really going on, and it definitely wasn't what we thought it was.

"Nos llevas con los prisioneros y vives, puedes empezar de nuevo y yo te mantendré a salvo, lo prometo, ¿de acuerdo?" I assured, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Loosen up a little, Ben," I said, using the gun to point at his hands that clasped hers tightly behind her back.

He did so, her chest quivering as her shoulders relaxed.

"She's going to help. I have a feeling things aren't as they seem," I said over Ben's shoulder.

She led us around the city, and into the main building, which was not surprisingly as dark and smelly.

Light yellow lighting illuminated the damp concrete floors, shedding light on the old chipped white tiles that split into four hallways, all narrow.

An elevator sat in between the hallways, the entrance blocked with random junk, like gas cans and hydrogen tanks.

Ben quickly glanced at me with unsurety as she stepped into an old elevator, Ben almost tripping over an exposed pipe.

I violently nodded towards the entrance, my jaw tightened.

"Esto es incómodo, pero voy a necesitar que entreguen sus armas antes de que entremos en un espacio confinado con ustedes, no es nada personal," I said after Ben refused a third time to enter.

"Sí, tiene sentido, ya que tu pequeño amigo está un poco asustadizo," she smiled, and Ben met my eyes with a raised eyebrow.

She handed over her weapons, and I pocketed them in my stolen jacket.

We got on the elevator, the air stiff with the strong stench of mold as Ben practically hid behind me, only moving whenever my friend moved.

The doors opened, revealing a long hallway of doors. Some off the hinges, some locked down indefinitely, piquing my curiosity.

I made a quick note to myself to take a peak in the doors before blowing it up.

The original plan was to raid, destroy the big building, and arrest whoever we could. But now the plan was to take back our troops.

We weren't told why, and I began to wonder if SHIELD knew what was really going on.

Since the girl was so eager to come with us, I began to wonder if all their guards were here against their will.

"¿Cómo llegaste aquí?" I asked, searching for my ICER to replace my gun.

"A muchos de nosotros nos secuestraron desde pequeños y nos trajeron aquí para entrenar, pero nunca nos dijeron por qué. Algunos están aquí porque no tienen adónde ir. Nos mantienen alimentados y vestidos, por lo que la mayoría de la gente no se queja," she explained, and my brain became foggy as I tried to translate quickly as she rushed down the hall.

"So what- Lo siento, entonces, ¿qué planeaban hacer con mis agentes?"

"No sé. A nadie se le dice nada. Las únicas personas que lo saben ni siquiera se distinguen," she replied, and I groaned on the inside. "Ellas están aquí."

She opened a door, and my lungs filled with a breath of stale air when I saw all my troops in an empty, dark room with concrete floors and walls.

"Oh thank goodness," I sighed and was met with a big hug from one of my friends who'd been captured.

I stroked her back, squeezing her as tight as I could.

"Guys!" I yelled, pulling away from my friend, Philly, to face my battered and beaten troops, a very dim and murky light barely illuminating their faces.

"This is my friend, uhh, I don't know her name, but she's not an enemy, and for all we know, none of our enemies are our enemies, they're here against their will- so no killing anyone, got it?"

They all muttered in agreement.

"Good. Steal whatever you want- but please don't take too long, we haven't got enough time until they find out," I said, "The situation here is a bit different than we anticipated, so as soon as we get back to DC, I'm going to plan another mission. Right now, we're escaping."

"Let's move out!" I yelled, stepping out of the way of the door, letting all my troops pile out.

"Two by two!" I instructed, waiting by the door for them all to exit.

Several of my troops had bleeding wounds, covered with scraps of clothing. They all looked exhausted and tired, and definitely not in shape for any sort of battle. We needed to be discreet.

"Willter, Philly!" I called, and they both came running over.

"Willter, keep an eye on-" I looked down at the girl beside me, "Lo siento mucho, ¿cómo te llamas?"

"Daniela," She responded, holding out her hand for a handshake.

I shook it, my eyes on Willter, "Vigílame y mantenla a salvo, deja que ella abra la salida, debemos ser discretos. No estamos en condiciones de luchar, pero lo haremos si es necesario. Volveremos pronto por tus amigos, Daniela, lo prometo."

She shook her head in understanding, and Willter followed her to the front of the line, while I held up the back.

"You needed me?" Philly asked as they were gone.

"I need you for emotional support," I said in a deep hushed tone.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you and Willter have been fighting. I mean, isn't this your 5th to final straw at this point?" She said, a little too loudly for my taste.

"No, this is the final straw. I'm going to do it. I'm cutting him off, I swear, I just can't do it anymore," I said, gripping my ICER tightly to my chest as we turned into a doorway to be met with a seemingly bottomless staircase.

"You've got to put a dollar in the 'this is the final straw' jar, I'm looking for a way to get rich quick," she said, earning a grunt.

"No, I'm serious now, I swear, I'm gonna tell Sitwell I don't want to be his partner anymore, then I'll tell Ben I'm cutting him off," I said, keeping my voice quiet as we stomped through the dark stairwell, "it's also putting people in danger now. Ben Willter could never put me in danger, and that's a problem."

I realized that all of our troops were together in one place, making it easy for them to apprehend us once again. Why aren't we splitting up?

"We need to split up," I whispered to myself, turning to face Philly, who had a big bruise on her cheek.

"You're right, I'll tell Ben and Daniela," Philly said, walking off. She raised her arm up in front of some troops, stopping about 15 from following the rest.

"What's the problem?" One of the Agents asked, holding his arm close to his chest.

"There's no problem, the plan just isn't um," I said, pausing in the middle of my sentence, looking intensely at Ben, who was headed towards me from the front of the line.

"Daniela said that if she can find a radio, she can get her friends to join in helping us out, but we need to promise to find and kill the head, or else they're all goners for sure."

An idea sparked in my head.

"No," Philly said, shaking her head, a hand with chopped red acrylics going to her forehead in exasperation.

"I can do it, I promise, I'll be back within minutes. I'll recruit other Agents while I'm out and it'll be quick and painful," I begged.

Being the leader of my division, I had complete authority over everyone here, but Philly had the authority as my friend to try and talk me out of it.

"You have no idea what you might be up against," she said, her eyes fixated on mine as the arch of both her eyebrows spoke a thousand words, slightly shaking her head with her arms crossed.

"But when do I ever?"

Philly looked me up and down before Ben spoke up, "You should do it."

I smiled at him, then at Philly, who stared hatred into his soul, threatening him with just a centimeter squint.

"Thank you! Now-" I said, turning back to Philly, "Ben knows where we left the truck. Philly, I want you to stay with the groups while Ben takes them in shifts, I'll most likely be in the last one. And Philly- you'll appoint the leaders for each group, preferably the one with less...I don't know, blood?"

"But- Meredith-" She started.

"No- and that's an order!" I said, as I ran back up the stairs.

I retraced the group's steps, going back up numerous sets of stairs before realizing I didn't remember nearly this many on the way.

Turning around, I walked back down the steps I'd just climbed and reentered another hallway, where I found another set of stairs.

There was an unsettling lack of sunlight throughout the numerous halls, giving me no way of finding an exit.

And also no real way of finding this so-called leader.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

I ran down the winding stairs, dried mud falling off of my clothes as I glided down the steps, just barely avoiding slipping.

Stopping, I listened closely to the echoes of my feet, which seemed to go on for too long, but started coming right back up towards me.

And doubled.

My brain echoed for me to run, but it was too late.

I was met with two enemy troops, dressed head to toe in black, helmets blocking my view of their face.

They scrambled to get to their guns, their hands barely clutching the gun right as they held them up at me.

"Por la forma en que manejas el arma, puedo decir que no quieres estar aquí. ¿Bien? Bien. Yo tampoco. Así que deja eso y podremos salir de este basurero con la cabeza, lo prometo," I said quickly, hand lightly resting on my gun on my hip, my other raised towards them.

"¿Qué te hace pensar que no quiero estar aquí?" He said from under his mask.

"Un pajarito me dijo..." I said, their confusion displayed in the subtle tilt of their heads.

Using their confusion to my advantage, I picked one up and tossed him on top of the other.

"Ahora bien, no podemos dejar que un pájaro haga todo el trabajo, entonces, ¿vas a decirme qué está pasando aquí y si quieres ser libre o no? Porque si yo fuera tú elegiría la libertad. La otra cosa no es tan atractiva," I said sternly, looming over their bodies with my hands placed on my hips.

"No somos prisioneros, somos empleados y nuestro trabajo es matar a intrusos como usted," he said, raising his gun up at me.

I dove out of the way, narrowly avoiding the bullet, but bringing unwanted attention to the entrance.

A second gunshot went off, echoing loudly through the labyrinth of yellow tinted halls.

I couldn't see the enemies anymore, as they fell behind the bend, but I could hear one set of footsteps quietly coming back up for more.

Carefully, I pulled my gun from my holster, aiming forward.

Instead of him raising his weapon, he held a hand up as he threw the helmet on the ground.

"Algunos de nosotros somos prisioneros, pero se supone que no debo decirte eso," he said, but I didn't quite hear him.

Maybe it was because I forgot to take my vitamins. Maybe I got chemicals in my eye and I was going blind.

I hoped I was going blind.

Because that would be 100 times less terrifying than the face that looked back at me with its four eyes.

Chapter Text

"Dear God-" I gasped, backing up slowly, almost tripping over my own feet as I struggled to grasp what I was seeing, "Disculpe- querido Dios..."

"Please, don't, it's already bad as it is," he said, and I realized he was speaking English later.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to look away," I said, knowing I was probably hurting his feelings. "Really, it's not personal."

"That's alright, I avoid myself as well," He said, nodding his head.

"No, really, that's terrible, I'm sure you're a nice person but," I assured, leaning on the wall, trying not to retch from the gruesome sight, not wanting to hurt his feelings any further.

"Are you here to save us?" He asked, and I could feel the heat begin to rise to my chest as I realized that someone had done this to more people.

This was more than just illegal weapons and kidnappings. Some low-life "scientist" was experimenting on people. Living, breathing, human beings. With thoughts and people to love. Treated like lab rats with only the capacity to survive.

Which may as well have been what he turned them into.

Something that was personal, whether the scientist knew it or not. Which made me wonder

"Tell me who did this to you- and I swear I'll take care of it," I said, "just give me a minute..."

"I can't, he keeps us-"

The hallway echoed with loud bangs, my muscle memory kicking in and jerking the boy close to me to shield him from the danger.

My senses were a haze as my ears rang, my mind whirling with the urge to grip back onto reality.

The boy was now laying beside me, blood pooling under his stomach.

"No, no, no-" I said, my shaky hands going to his neck as I frantically tried to search for a pulse, my head whipping back and forth, looking for whoever shot him.

But I saw no one. And felt no pulse.

I could feel my legs slowly become mushy and weak, unable to move fast enough to get me out of here.

Now was usually the time where I played a familiar game, "how long until it happens to me?". A very familiar one that my mind made me play over and over again, only it got to change the rules each time.

I backed away slowly, jerking around in an attempt to catch the invisible killer.

My purpose here was now very clear to me. As the boy asked me to, I'm going to find the true monster and set the prisoners free.

Storming out of the stairway, I finally found a window.

With a running start, I balled myself up as I tumbled out of the window, breaking the glass with my feet.

My feet hit the ground, my knees following as I rolled with the momentum.

Quickly I realized that even though I had made my way out of the main area, I was still lost, and wouldn't possibly have enough time to find the man behind all of this without help.

Which meant I needed to find someone to take me to him, fast.

It shouldn't be terribly hard, due to the fact that I clearly didn't belong here and someone was actively hunting me. All I had to do was wait.

But I'd still have to worry whether or not they were on my side.

At least a million questions crossed my mind twice as I took in my surroundings. I was in a greenhouse-like attachment to the main building, stretching over a sheet-metal structure, somewhat resembling a living quarters, with mix-match materials. If the shanty town was Italian.

Footsteps pounded from behind me, the mud squelching under their boots making it hard to mistake for anything else.

I took cover behind loose materials, gripping my gun to my side, finger on the trigger as I glanced in the direction of the sound.

Three masked guards came in my direction, all carrying guns, pointed and ready to shoot.

With swift agility, I jumped out from behind the scraps, shooting the guns from their hands, pulling my gun back up and pointing it at them.

"Si mantenemos esto en paz, ambos nos beneficiamos, así que dejen sus armas," I instructed.

They did so, their hands in the air.

"Quiero salvarte, pero no puedo hacerlo a menos que cooperes.," I said, "Llévame hasta tu líder y podré sacarte a ti y a todos de aquí, lo prometo. A menos que quieras quedarte aquí y seguir permitiendo que personas relativamente inocentes se conviertan por la fuerza en monstruos, que es lo que supongo que está sucediendo. Las aclaraciones son bienvenidas."

They all stole glances at each other, seemingly having a telepathic conversation, which is not something I would doubt at a time like this.

"We'll take you to him, but it might be dangerous- so look alive," one of them said, their voice muffled by the mask that covered their face.

"I'll try and be aware of my surroundings, but I can't guarantee I won't look dead-" I laughed.

They all chuckled awkwardly, and I immediately regretted making a joke.

"I don't know why I said that because I'm really tight on time," I said, "Lead the way."

We shuffled into a small pack as they led me through the path.

The smell wasn't necessarily bad. The atmosphere was moist and warm, the smell of gasoline mixed with the green freshness of the jungle wafting through the air.

We hustled quickly through the twists and turns before coming to a dead end.

"Mmmmm," I said disapprovingly, my feet sinking into the mushy ground.

"Secret entrance-'' One of them said. The "leader" of the group pulled away a rusty piece of sheet metal, revealing a bunker-like entrance, sealed with a matching lock and key.

"Do you have the key?" One of them turned to the other.

"Why would I have it?"

"I don't know, you're always kissing up on him!"

"Maybe I'm just trying not to get killed and recycled into something else," He said.

"Gross- and, I've got this-" I said in a breathy tone, walking up to the lock and giving it a sharp yank- pulling it clean off.

I turned around and gave the key an under toss to the side.

"Boom!" I said, excitedly, "Now get in there."

As they walked past me, I noticed their bodies were tense, shoulders squared and fingers clutched as they walked past me and down the murky hall.

I feared that black mold spores were already latching onto my lungs and would start to slowly kill me without me even realizing.

"Why is he locked away in the basement? You would think if he has such an army he'd have a tower or something," I said in a quiet whisper, just in case he was right around the corner.

"First things first- we barely know anything, except for what he looks like and that he created us. And of course where he is. He likes to call us his children. A very few people know why, and very few are loyal to him- the rest of us can't and don't want to leave- for obvious reasons," He explained.

"Got it, so if I just kill him, nothing bad will happen to you?"

"We'll probably starve due to lack of income- he sells a lot of us to private armies for foreign countries," he said, "The transformed ones will have nowhere to go. I mean, it'd be pretty terrifying to see someone with claws or antennae walking down the street.

"That's awful. But incredibly useful information. I'm with a private investigation unit, and I promise, we'll do all we can to make sure you guys are safe, you have my word," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He lifted his mask, revealing his face.

Coarse, dark hair covered his skin, from his ears, neck, and hairline.

"Yeah- I'm definitely going to kill him-" I said, pursing my lips into a straight line, looking him up and down before giving a pat and walking past him, gun raised and ready.

The boy grinned at me, revealing shiny sharp teeth.

"Follow my lead," The boy said, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards a pair of rusty doors, quickly grabbing the handle and pushing it open, a loud screech echoing throughout the halls.

I was immediately blinded by the sight of what lay before me.

It was almost like I stepped into an expensive NYC apartment, complete with abstract paintings and lavish, blinding white furniture.

Two sets of stairs curved into a second story, with halls on either side.

Whoever was behind this played into the villain stereotype much too well.

The entire layout reminded me of a castle, complete with a crystal chandelier illuminating it all.

"Elliot?" One of them yelled as another took my other arm.

"Just a minute my children!" a gruffly voice yelled from the right wing of the... lair.

An old man dressed in attire appropriate for the 1880s waltzed out from behind a marble pillar, a large smile on his face quickly fading when he saw me.

"What's this about?" He said in a cockney British accent, jabbing his cane into my stomach.

I furrowed my eyebrows at the cane, then back up to him, staring straight into his hollow eyes.

"We found her, scrabbling around the woods. She says her plane crashed. We figured you'd want to take a look. Maybe recruit her for your next batch." He said, "Do your super awesome magic."

I knew we were acting, but my reaction to that was very real. I most definitely did not need to be experimented on a second time. One time is plenty for me.

"It's not magic, it's science," he said, bopping him on the head with his cane, "but I do suppose she'll make a great new edition to our little village."

My skin itched my bones, slithering up my spine with a quake.

"I'd rather pull out all my teeth and shove them right up my-"

A crackly voice coming from my belt interrupted me, "Meredith?"

I froze, the old man looking at my belt and then back up at me, a hollow look in his eyes.

"It's called a walkie-talkie, cause you can walk and talk at the same time,"I explained, catching him off guard before sweeping him off his feet with a single kick.

He hit the ground and I pulled my walkie talkie from my belt.

"Ben Willter you just got me in a lot of trouble- over," I said, watching the old man scatter away, abandoning his cane.

I wanted to kill the old man right then and there, but I couldn't follow through. I needed to get all the information out of him as I possibly could before I will personally lead him to his inevitable death.

"Well, here I come to get you out," Ben said over the walkie talkie.

Urgently, I assisted my new masked friends in catching the surprisingly nimble old man, who leaped over his couches to try and escape us.

Behind me, I heard a large crash and bang, rattling the floor.

A large gush of wind brushed right past my ear and towards the old man.

Slowly, I turned around,the hair on my neck raised and alert.

I know he told me he was coming, but somehow I just hoped he learned from his mistakes, which is probably a mistake on my part.

The old man was now on the ground, crawling away on his knees and fingertips after being blown down from an air bazooka. My new friends were now all on top of him, trying to get him to stop resisting with non-discernable shouts.

"We've gotta get out of here, Forty-Four-" Ben said, his air bazooka thrown on his shoulder casually as he stood in the middle of the hole in the wall.

"I told you I had it! What are you doing here?!" I shoved him aside as I quickly paced towards the mess.

"Face it, please, you're going to need a little help," he said.

"I don't care if you had to leave me, you were in charge of getting our troops out of here and getting out, that was your job and you need to do it."

"What if I don't want to leave you?!"

"Then maybe we don't need to be partners."

I bent down and pulled the old man up from the tanglement by his wrist. I pulled them behind his back and shoved him against the painting on the wall.

"This is an original Hervey Garrett Smith painting! Do you barbarians have any idea-!"

I shoved him further into painting to cut him off, hearing a tiny rip.

"You don't mean that, do you?" Ben asked, standing close behind me as he handed me handcuffs.

"Oh no I do, I really do," I said, handcuffing the old scientist.

He put his hands on his hips, and I could see his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as I shoved past him, dragging the old man behind me.

"No, no, you can't take me away! My children will die!" He pleaded, planting his feet as his head flailed.

"Quite the opposite!" I said, loudly mimicking his British accident as I pulled him close to my face.

"No you don't understand, I-I-" He said, yanking harder. "téssera chrónia!

téssera chrónia!"

"Ben- Bring Miranda in please," I ordered, tired of his mindless babbling.

He came up right beside me in a split second, the old man's eyes widening as he saw Ben flick a syringe before sticking it in his arm.

Within seconds, the old man's eyes rolled back and he fell limp in my arms, his thin white combover dramatically flipping to its rightful side.

"You get to carry the body," I told Ben, dropping him on the ground and giving him a light kick.

Hesitantly, Ben picked the body up and threw it over his shoulder.

"Do you think you guys can lead the revolution before I get back?" I asked the rebels before following Ben.

"I think we can manage without you even coming back," One of them said, earning them an elbow in the side.

"No we can't," said one, shaking their head as the other one rubbed their side.

"I'll send a new army within a week max, you just work on forming a resistance," I said, "We'll be back to rehabilitate soon."

One gave a thumbs up while the others gave a salut, giving the signal to continue on my mission.

"Take care of yourselves, alright?"

I followed Ben, trusting that he knew where to go. If he got here so quickly, he was sure to know how to get out quickly.

"How old do you think that guy is?" I asked, studying his wrinkled features, "Got to be at least 95."

"Mmm hmm," Ben answered.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his attitude.

"You don't have to punish me, you know?"

"Mhmmm," he said, leading me down the hallway that seemed to get darker and darker, and smellier and smellier, "But like you said, we aren't friends on the field."

I exhaled harshly, hoping that maybe getting some better oxygen would help me digest the issues that I had now created.

Maybe I shouldn't have said that we shouldn't be partners anymore at that specific time. But I knew we'd both been thinking about it.

I hope.

Picking at my thumb with my index finger, I tore away skin from the nail.

"Here," echoed Ben, stopping at a metal ladder that went up into a manhole.

"Secret tunnels?" I asked, peering up into the inclosed dark abyss.

"No, they're very public, the whole town knows," he answered dryly, not meeting my eyes as we started up the ladder.

I started to grind my teeth together as I started up the ladder as well, met face to face with the now drooling old man, his combover bouncing with every step Ben took.

"Quick question- how'd you know how to get out of here, and second question, how'd you know that you could trust it?" I asked, wiping black oil from the ladder on my already disgusting pants.

"I was given very specific instructions by a fellow troop that... well, I don't know how to tell you this but-"

"Trust me, I know, they're mutated. Human experiments. He's a sick man," I said, looking at the man with a cold face.

"I'm sure you'll have a chance to make him pay after we drain him of his secrets," Ben said.

The top was getting closer, and the smell was getting better. Or I had gone noseblind, because I'm sure Ben will smell like a portapotty for the next four weeks.

Meaning he'll smell like that at my birthday party.

"When do I ever get to do that? Fury will get his hands on him and make him spend his life in prison. Puny. I wanna do his experiment on him. Then kill him slowly. Preferably poison. Make his cells turn against each other."

"Well, okay then, seems kind of brutal. But if that's what you want to do then shoot for the stars."

"Not at all, it seems appropriate," I said, pushing ahead of him to push open the pothole.

I crawled out, reaching an arm down for Ben and the scum.

"Hopefully he doesn't start... Speaking gibberish again. That was insane. What language was that even?" Ben asked, taking my hand.

"It's greek. The only language I wanted to learn, but unfortunately, sword fighting took up too much time," I sighed, crawling out of the manhole and onto the ground.

"Sword fighting is so much cooler though." He said, dropping the scientist to the ground and rubbing his shoulder. "Can you take him now? My arm is starting to hurt."

"Fine, " I said, pulling his bony shriveled body under my arm.

We were sheltered by two metal huts, about 80 feet from the main building. I could hear faint gunshots in the distance, along with some shouts.

"Are they rejecting the..."

"Revolution?"

"That sounds stupid," I said.

"Essentially though, it's exactly what it is, and some are. The ones that are afraid of being... outsiders. It's the ugliest ones, usually."

"How terrible," I said, getting a good grip on my gun before heading out into the prey.

"I put Dani in charge with Eddie and Philly. They're leading the groups out and to the truck. Philly was the first team, she's already left for a second and third truck I'm sure. We're left to defend ourselves until they get back." Ben said, loading his gun.

"Good plan-" I said, heading into the thick of the battle.

Like the good team we were and that we are known to be, we fought with all we had.

And discovered a few allies along the way.

We made it out of the base, their abuser under my arm.

My arm had earned a bullet and I'm sure Ben earned two or three.

But we had executed the first part of a long term plan to help them get to complete safety. No matter how gruesome or absurd the job was, we still did it.

I still did it.

"Philly- are you sure you want to stay?" I asked, standing by the front of the steps to the airplane.

In 9 hours, we packed up most of the base and I boarded the badly injured American troops onto the plane, along with Daniela. The rest of the troops were going to stay at the Argentinian SHIELD base in Mendoza for a few weeks to assist them in taking down the base once and for all.

"I've got too much unfinished work here. And we may need more resources. The base here is pretty underfunded. We need them ASAP, they've still got loyalties in there," Philly responded.

"Give me about a week. In the meantime, you figure out what was actually going on in there."

"And you go ahead and figure out what's really going on between you and Ben Willter. Because it ain't what you pretend it is, and that's all I'm going to say."

"I know what it is- we're both stupid. In different ways. That clash. And burn."

"Or you clash and collide and... combine," she suggested, leaning her head towards me, the rising sun reflecting perfectly off her blond ponytail.

"Gross."

"I'd like to apologize on Ben's behalf, by the way," I said, "If it weren't for him veering off the mission you probably wouldn't have been captured, and for that I am truly sorry. I didn't do my job well enough to keep you as safe as possible."

"Hey, it happens. It beats working at UPS," she laughed, "But you shouldn't apologize. When I get my hands on Ben, I'll sit on him and tell him Apus is an overrated constellation."

"Sounds like the perfect revenge to me."

"Are you coming back?" Philly asked after we chuckled for a moment at Ben's avid love for the stars.

"Of course, but only after I take a shower, take a nap, and tell my Dad about this."

"Tell him I said hi and to save me some birthday cake so that way I can celebrate. Not because I want cake, but because I really want to celebrate your birthday. With some birthday cake."

"Got it. Birthday cake. What flavor do you want?" I asked, slowly making my way up the steps of the plane, "Because I think you might enjoy it more than me."

"Rainbow sprinkle."

"That's not a flavor," I laughed, pointing at her as I boarded the plane.

I got situated near the cockpit, taking off my jacket and shoes, throwing them on the ground next to me.

"Is this seat taken, Star?" Someone asked.

I looked up to see Ben Willter's green eyes and was shocked at his newly buzzed hair. He had a tiny cut on his right cheek bone and a bruised left cheek,

"No, unfortunately, maybe you should ask around if anyone wants it," I said, grabbing a book from my backpack, only to realize that they were missing. They were in my duffle.

"I brought Stephen King books," he reasoned, holding on to his bicep, which was wrapped just like mine was after we had our bullets extracted.

"Sit," I said.

We sat together the whole 15 hours in DC, filling out paperwork and then eventually falling asleep on each other.

I hated him, often. We had problems that we ignored and we took our anger out on each other, but he's never left.

To be honest, I don't think I'll ever find someone to put up with me like he does. So I keep him around.

Dad says that Ben is made for me.

He's not wrong.

He's never wrong.

Maybe sometimes. But I really never notice. I trust him.

I like to call myself a free thinker. But really, I think I'm confined to my Dad's freethinking.

The reason why I'm still with Ben, with SHIELD, doing what I do, is because Dad likes it.

And I'm okay with that. It makes me happy. So where's the harm?

Chapter Text

"Get this scum to the slammer so I can personally interrogate him," I said, "I've got some files I filled out on the plane, I marked them a level 4. They've got all the new information we were able to gather."

We were on top of the building, unloading our plane of troops and resources, including the annoying scientist that had just woken up. Thankfully it was whenever we returned back to the Triskelion and not during the 15 hour plane ride.

"Who should we get the files to?" An assistant asked, following up beside me as I signed a form.

"Get them to Hill if she's not busy," I said, waving off another form to sign.

"Well, we've all been pretty busy..." The assistant said, clearing her throat.

"There was an Alien invasion yesterday, thanks to the tesseract and Thor's adopted brother, Loki," someone said from behind me, "he made sure we knew that."

Maria Hill.

"If you're expecting me to freak out, I don't think that's possible after what I've seen," I said, pulling a hair away from my face.

"Well then let's compare. What happened in Argentina that's crazier than Aliens?" She asked.

"Human experimentation. I've looked into four eyes this weekend."

"I'd say it was just another Friday for us, then."

"The scientist is being loaded into the interrogation chambers as we speak. I'm going to personally interrogate him later. Preferably after I see Dad," I said, adjusting the collar of the suit I had changed into while on the plane.

"You think Fury will let you do that?"

I sighed. "'No, but a girl can dream."

Maria sighed back, looking down at her tablet. "Fury wants you in his office to fill you in on everything that's happened."

"I'll beat him to it. I promised I'd get a recovery team to the base in Mendoza for the victims."

"We'll have to assign a team from another to it. We're pretty busy here," she said, "Project Pegasus was destroyed, unfortunately, so we're moving all of our assists from there to here."

"I leave for a few days and we lose a whole base..." I scoff under my breath, nodding away a lingering Agent who was asking pointless questions.

"Oh please, Meredith," Maria said, rolling her eyes. I simply chuckled, nudging her shoulder playfully.

"Well I'm guessing Dad is up to his neck in paperwork," I laughed. "That explains why he wasn't here to greet me when I got off the plane."

Maria was silent, her composure suddenly changing.

Another paper was shoved in my face. I signed it quickly, shoving one of my hands into my pocket.

"Fury is getting impatient. I'll escort you to his office if you'd like," she said, walking to the entrance.

"You sure you're not too busy?" I asked, catching up to her quick and agile pace.

"I've got time," she said, tapping at her tablet that she seemed to always carry with her wherever she went. Me and Ben joke sometimes that she takes it in the shower.

Looking over her shoulder, I read her message.

"She's on her way. Go easy on her."

Go easy on me?

We walked into the building, Maria's posture stiff as she didn't take her eyes off the device, tapping away.

"Listen, if you really don't have time it's totally fine, I can walk by myself," I said, trying to get a better grasp of what might really be going on here.

"I'm very well at multitasking," she answered plainly.

As we walked through the lobby, the place was abuzz with Agents moving into the building after the loss of an entire base.

Most of them carried tall stacks of file boxes, briefcases, and carts full of large metal cases.

They made way for me and Maria, parting in half and staring and whispering as we walked by.

"What's their problem?" I asked.

"Well, on the count of losing all your Agents to the enemy this weekend, they're probably surprised you're alive," she said, her eyes still glued to her tablet.

"You haven't even looked up this whole time, Maria," I reasoned, rolling my eyes.

"I just know."

Me and Maria boarded the elevator, joined by a few extra Agents, carrying cardboard boxes.

Maria looked up from her tablet to press the button for Fury's floor, shoving past me.

As the doors closed, I saw all of the Agents still looking at me like I was one of the hybrid experiments I had seen on Friday. It didn't feel good; and it immediately made me feel guilty for the way I looked at the boy with four eyes.

I looked down at my feet, picking at my nails, the elevator feeling a bit more warm than usual.

Without looking behind me, I could tell that the other Agents with us were staring intently at me, communicating with passing glances between each other.

"Meredith, I'm so sorry-" one of the Agents spoke up, but they were cut off by Maria hill shoving them in the side.

"What?" I asked, giving Maria a quick up and down.

"They're sorry about your mission," she said, "because it was ruined, by Ben. Do you still want me to arrange for you two to never be partners again, or do you still need more time to think about it?"

I darted my eyes between her and the Agent, Maria still looking down at her tablet, tapping furiously.

She sniffled, squeezing her eyes shut, her head down.

"I'm going to think about it," I said, despite my best efforts to be rash and fully commit to cutting him off completely. But I had a feeling that Maria was still trying to distract me from something, "He needs to tell people what they need to know, if you catch my drift."

"Oh please, like Benjamin Willter would ever do that," Maria said, rolling her eyes.

That's usually how Fury told people to "explain themselves" or to "apologize" when they had messed up on a mission. To take accountability. And he didn't mean some lousy explanation. He wanted something that people could understand and remember. Not only did it better the offender, it bettered everyone else. Because when everyone else heard what they wanted them to know, they applied to their own life and gained a lesson they didn't have to get their hands messy to learn.

But that's not what's important right now.

Shoving the Agents aside, I snatched the tablet from her, which made her finally look up.

"I think YOU need to tell me what I need to know," I said, looking around the elevator for someone to give me an answer.

They all avoided my eyes, confirming my suspicions that something was really wrong.

A bell rang, and the other Agents got out and onto their floor, rushing out like it was on fire.

"Where is my Dad, Maria?" I said, about 30 seconds after they left, using the silence to hopefully persuade her into telling me.

A ding announced the arrival to Fury's office before I could get my answer.

"He's in the building," Fury said from behind me. I slowly turned back to face him.

I couldn't read him. Usually, it's easy for me to read people just by looking at them. In the way they stand, their hands, even eye movement.

Fury was no exception, but I'd never seen his face look like it did now. I realized quickly that maybe I could read his face perfectly, but it just wasn't what I wanted to see.

Reading English as French and hoping to speak spanish.

"Fury, is there anything else you need?" Maria said.

My eyes didn't leave Fury as he politely dismissed her, Maria answering in a nod as she pressed a button in the elevator, staring at the wall as if it were a window, looking straight in my eyes at the last second.

As Fury walked to his desk, hands in his pockets. I stayed put, watching him closely, not wanting to say a single word until I was ready to face it. Whatever it is, it wasn't going to be easy.

My index finger picked at the skin on my thumbnail, becoming the only sound in the room, accompanied by the ticking of the clock on his desk.

"Tell me about Argentina," he said, placing his hands in his lap, "I heard it wasn't what we had thought it was."

"We? Or did you know?"

"If I had known that there were active victims in this case I wouldn't have ordered you to kill at will, this was a complete surprise to me. You also would've been there much sooner than you were."

"There were people there. Kept under this scientist that created them in exchange for care. They were exploited for their survival instincts. By far the worst kind of mission. If it weren't for Ben screwing up the mission, we probably would've never known."

"It hit pretty close to home, didn't it?"

"It did. Now-" I said, finally moving from the spot I had been paralyzed in, "I am going to ask two questions."

Sitting down in one of the two gray armchairs in front of his desk, I placed my hands in my lap, and leaned back, Fury mirroring my position.

Fury didn't debate my liberty to ask. He nodded my head to encourage me to continue.

"I'd like to interview the scientist. I want to know everything. And that's not a request, that's a demand."

"Okay."

"Good. I appreciate your cooperation," I said, giving my head a small shake as I leaned forward, rubbing my palms together, "And my second question."

"I don't want to have to answer it," he said, catching me off guard.

"What's the question, Fury? You're gonna make me ask?" I asked, my chin turning upwards as I looked down at him with suspicion.

"Ask it," he said in a cracked whisper.

"Where is he?" I said, trying to keep it together, but I feel everything start to crack and crumble with every racing heartbeat.

"My avengers plan was... initiated yesterday," Fury said, standing up and beginning to pace beside his floor to ceiling window.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I sighed, picking at my scalp line.

A holographic screen popped up, security camera footage showing six costumed "superheroes" all together, looking fierce and ready to fight.

And Captain America wearing the suit my Dad had designed for him.

"They look great. The Captain doesn't look too hot though, but I'll bet it was hard to turn Dad down," I forced a chuckle, "Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff look... like heroes. I didn't know they were a part of the initiative. Where was Carol Danvers?"

"Space."

"Right."

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to cleanse my system of the tightness that seemed to cover my whole body, but the fact that he hadn't answered my question just about confirmed the answer.

But I wasn't going to give up yet until he said the very word. Until then, everything is fine. I couldn't help but start to put my hand over the locked door handle. It led to places I never wanted to go down to. A place I kept from myself for times like this. Because once I went down, I wasn't coming back up for a long time.

I begged myself not to cry.

Not because I thought crying was weak or puny, because I didn't ever have to prove that I wasn't. It was a rule I made up in my mind, that if If I cry, it makes it true. I've never told anyone about it before, because it might jinx it and it wouldn't work anymore. Not that it ever did. But it did give me hope.

"They didn't get along much. They fought like cats and dogs. You should've seen it. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers said some nasty words," He smiled. "I thought that we weren't going to be able to pull it off."

"How'd you get them to work it out?" I asked, fingers now bleeding from my excessive picking.

I could feel my legs become sweaty, more than they already were before. I was still in desperate need of a shower.

"Sometimes... In certain circumstances, people need a wake-up call to realize what they're fighting for is real. A reason to fight. Avenge."

My breath was snatched out of my lungs. So was every other vital function that I needed to survive.

The clock on Fury's desk ticked, second by second.

Tick.

This wasn't normal.

"Who was the reason?" I asked, my chin quivering violently as I stood up, knees buckling.

My heart began to pound, making my head spin.

Dad is okay. I'll call him after this and tell him we can watch Supernanny like he wanted to a week ago. I didn't want to though. But it was the only thing I wanted now.

Fury became quiet, and my throat became heavy. I fear the door has opened, and the dark steps were ahead of me. I was being prodded with a stick to go down.

"God, Fury, just answer my question," I whispered, "Take it away, please. Put it to rest."

Tick.

Fury took off his eyepatch, revealing his bad eye. I'd only seen it a few times.

the gun loads. It's cocked with a jarring, icy click. It's aimed. His eye is squinting through the peephole. I can feel his finger on the trigger in my bones, the sharp click before the bang.

"I'm sorry, Meredith. He's gone. He was the bravest Agent I've ever had. He sacrificed his life, and we won. He saved thousands of lives. You should be proud."

He shoots. I'm hit. Crimson blood leaks from my heart, slowly.

The world turned dark, and the room started to close in.

Tick.

I stumbled back, my hand catching the back of the chair for balance as I looked at him in disbelief.

My shaking hand reached for my globe necklace. The one my Dad had given me the night he let me start training with SHIELD.

Sitting down in the chair, I sat in silence for a few seconds, picking at my cuticles in a crouched position.

"You're a liar," I said, "This is all a test, isn't it? See how I react? Isn't it? Isn't it? How well I can... How well can I handle bad news without going crazy? You want me to go crazy? Well I won't. Have I passed yet?"

"I would never lie about a thing like this, Meredith, I promise, please, don't make this harder than it already is," He said, walking up to me and placing his hands on my shoulders.

"No!" I yelled, shoving him off, "I don't trust you! Why should I?"

"Get. a. Grip," He whispered, looking into both of my eyes.

"You're lying through your teeth," I said, attempting to pull away. "I'm not gonna fall for it. Get your hands off of me."

"I'm not going to do that," he said, attempting to soothe me, tears forming in his eyes.

I didn't want to hurt him, but I was too afraid that if I pulled too hard, I might.

"Please let go, I don't want to hurt you," I said, after desperately trying to pull away gently, "I just wanna go home... I just want to see my Dad..."

I could see Fury's heart drop and shatter in his eyes.

"Please..." I said, and Fury wrapped my stiff body into a hug.

"If I only could, I would, Meredith... I'm sorry that I couldn't save him," He said through his own tears.

I stood silently, eyes wide open, embraced in Fury's arms.

I stopped fighting the urge to cry and waited for the dam to break.

But it never did.

It was just dark. An eternal pitch black darkness that liked to infect bullet wounds such as this.

My brain likes to sometimes play, "What Would I Do If My Dad Dies?" in the form of intrusive scenarios that include heart wrenching pain that can only be described as being burned alive.

But none of them would have conjured up the idea of feeling nothing. Because that was exactly how I felt. Hollow.

My heart... Picked pocketed from my chest.

I still wanted to go home and see my Dad, like I could still just turn around and see him standing there, 10 feet tall and tell him about my day.

Nothing felt real.

I should be on the floor, screaming. I felt like screaming. But I couldn't.

Maybe it's because yesterday was so close to today, and yesterday he was still breathing. The temperature in DC was only a degree warmer yesterday than today. The sun rose and set at the same time. My tree in the backyard looked the same.

"What do I do?" I asked, chin resting on his shoulder.

"You stay here with me," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't feel like crying or anything. I don't feel like anything at all."

"It'll come... But I don't want it to come when you're alone."

So I finally embraced him in a hug after keeping my hands at my side the whole time.

Until.

"If you'd like to say your goodbyes, he's waiting for you in the morgue," Fury said, slowly and carefully.

"Take me," I said immediately.

I'd made the mistake of being too afraid once, I wasn't going to let it happen again.

This was too precious to be fickle with.

Fury grabbed my hand as he led me to the elevator, giving it a tight squeeze.

I noticed a tear fall down his cheek as we went deeper and deeper into the building, the light slowly fading from the sky, overtaking the last bits of sunlight.

Every second felt like I was being sent straight to the bottom of the ocean, where I'll eventually drown from the lack of air.

For some reason, the urge to reach for my phone in my pocket and call my Dad still persisted, and every single time I had to remind myself that he was dead.

Dad is dead.

Lights from the passing floors flickered as we went down, down, down.

And I was now standing outside the door of SHIELD's morgue.

The doors opened by three agents that came out of nowhere. I was led down the dark hallway and to a room in the back.

And there he was. Eyes shut, face bruised. Motionless.

The once-pumping blood in his veins no longer serving a purpose. A once full heart, drained.

My hand went to his face, touching his forehead, down to his pale cheek.

"No," I whispered, gently touching his heart.

He was dressed in a hospital gown, blood staining his chest.

I couldn't take my eyes away.

The longer I stay, I can convince myself he's just sleeping.

I grabbed his hand, not feeling it squeeze back. It was cold.

"No..." I croaked.

The tears I hadn't yet shed finally manifested. But I immediately preferred to not feel anything at all.

My tears spilled over as crouched by his bedside, gripping his hand right in the cold and dark stale room.

"Why?" I cried softly, the tears like a breath of smoky air after piercing through the surface of the ocean.

A really good question.

How unfair it was.

My Dad was a good man. He gave his life to protect his country. One of the most noblest things someone can do. He was kind, and selfless. What did he do to deserve a fate such as this?

I finally let it all out, the harsh reality crashing down on me the longer I stared at him.

The whole building could probably hear my cries.

But I didn't care.

If you ever care, then maybe you're in the wrong place.

The world was still.

My eyes were heavy. The arm of my jacket is full of my tears.

And when I thought I could get up... I couldn't. Even for someone like me, I couldn't pull myself off the floor.

For once in my entire life, it was too heavy. The one thing that's too heavy. The one thing that may actually benefit myself. Loss. Grief.

The kind of thing that wills you to reach inside your chest and pull out your own heart, because it may hurt a little less.

I took another look at my Dad. I saw his bloodied hospital gown. I saw his still face. And then I saw the light. I saw it all. I saw the future that I was going to force to happen.

I wasn't going to pull my own heart out.

My strength couldn't help me now. But it definitely will be for what I'm going to do

"Men like him don't die just by happenstance. 20 years and some guy takes him out? It's not a plausible story, Fury. You know exactly who did this," I squeezed out through my throat, looking up from where I'd been sobbing, "and you're going to tell me who."

I felt like I could barely breathe, barely stand. Barely speak. But I now had a good reason to.

I wiped my tears away with my palms, wobbling to my feet, turning towards Fury, but keeping my eyes on my Dad.

Usually people say that when they see their loved ones dead, they look peaceful.

But Dad didn't look peaceful at all. Not to me.

Fury was standing behind me the whole time, his hand on my shoulder.

"That's like telling you where to find your death," He said.

"Death can hide itself as well as it has for the past 12 years. now tell me," I said, tears still slowly spilling out of my eyes as I turned towards him.

"No," he insisted.

The room was silent, except for my shaky breaths and sniffles.

"It was Loki, wasn't it? If you don't answer I will have mine," I raised an eyebrow over one of my inflated eyes.

"Maybe it was one of the aliens, you don't know that."

"An alien that Loki brought to earth. Where can I find Thor?" I demanded, crossing my arms, sniffling again, wiping my nose with my sleeve.

"You can't be trusted with that information at the moment. And you know better than to go after a god," He scoffed, reaching in his coat pocket and pulling out a tissue, "I know we trained you like one, but he has a thousand years experience. You have 12."

I ignored the tissue.

"A thousand years of experience cannot nearly compete to love like this," I spat, ready to tear this building down brick by brick for a hint of how.

"Three gods, Meredith," He corrected, "You're going to get yourself killed. I just lost my best Agent, I don't think I'd be able to handle it if I had lost another one. And then I'll have three gods to kill."

I paused.

"Then I'll fight them all. I don't care, Fury. You know how much he was to me. He was my DAD, for heaven's sake. You would do the same. And don't tell me you wouldn't."

"That's ridiculous, even for you," he uttered.

I laughed. "Oh yeah? Insane? You want to see insanity? This," I gestured to myself, "is insanity. I'm going to go insane. Because I won't be able to sleep at night if I know my dads killer is alive in a palace somewhere snacking on grapes and reading ancient poetry books and making love to horses-"

"Meredith Coulson," Fury scolded, loudly, "I don't think you're hearing anything I'm saying. Loki is in a prison. Rotting. He will never see the light of day again. If that's enough to help me sleep at night knowing then it should be good enough for you. I would've done it myself but I'm also trying to avoid a war."

"Tell me, Fury, when did he sing lullabies to you? It's not at all the same. He didn't tell you he's proud of you and who you are, and even if I turned out to just be a regular old accountant he would've still loved you," I cried, turning to my Dad, "But that's all drowned. I'm never going to hug him or tell him goodnight or listen to him talk about life with me ever again because of that weasel."

I took a hard swallow, my chin quivering.

"A god is in debt and the only way to pay is in blood."

I took a deep breath, still visually impaired from my tears that soaked my cheeks.

"And I'm going to be the one to draw it."

A mixture of rage and sadness swirled inside of me like an uncontrollable storm of emotions, pushing me to continue on.

"You're right. He didn't. And I won't argue, you should have every right to want to kill him..." Fury paused. "But you know that if you kill Loki, you'll also make Thor and Odin an enemy of SHIELD."

"Oh trust me, they already have, Fury. They did that when they killed your best Agent."

"Odin and Thor are not our enemies, Loki is."

"Well then maybe they too will be able to understand that after I kill him," I reasoned, "It's a shame they will have to suffer the consequences of his actions."

"I hate to do this but you leave me no other choice," He yelled, "If you do it, you're fired."

"Oh that's it then? Well then I quit," I laughed. I stood up from the chair, pulled the badge out of my pocket, grabbing his wrist, and slamming it into his hand, "I guess that eliminates your fear of making them enemies of SHIELD. How convenient."

My whole life was that badge. It was the token of my identity, in the form of a metal eagle spreading its wings.

And it hurt to see it slammed down. But I knew what I really wanted now. Something so familiar, but never as real as this.

"You know I'll always be loyal to you, and if you ever need me, I'm here. But I won't be working for you anymore. I'm sorry. I don't feel obligated to do it any longer," My voice trembled as I stared at my badge on the table, "my loyalties have always lied elsewhere."

Fury simply looked at me, betrayal in his eyes.

"You aren't fired. I can't fire my goddaughter."

"Then why'd you bluff?" I said, squaring up my shoulders.

"Because I love you, Meredith. You're the only thing I have left of Phil. I can't lose you too."

"You won't lose me. I... I promise." I sighed.

"Phil Coulson once promised that. When he signed up to do this job, he broke that promise."

Another reminder that my Dad is gone and the person who took him is alive and well.

And right after the sadness, was the aftertaste.

"I made a promise too, when I signed up. If anyone ever put a hand on him that I would do the same to them," I said, my tears drying, "someone dares to come down to earth, and kill my father? His fate was sealed the moment my Dad took his last breath."

I felt the last salty tear drop down my cheek.

"I'm going home. And I'm going to get what I want. Please don't get in my way. This is strictly personal."

I bent over my Dad's dead body, giving a kiss to his forehead for the last time, sealing my promise.

Honor him.

I walked out of the door, shoving past the Agents that stood by.

Everything became clear as I finally felt something.

The darkness I feared had left my head and leaked into my veins. The dam of emotion that finally broke through.

I am no Avenger. But I am one for vengeance. An eye for an eye and so forth. The Avengers failed to do their job correctly and thoroughly, so I'll finish this, once and for all.

I walked out of the morgue, and to the elevator, hearing footsteps close behind me

Fury didn't stay out of it.

I turned to face the doors as I stepped into the elevator, watching them close on the Agents that tried to follow me.

There was a little detour I needed to take, and snatch something that may be needed.

Without looking, I pressed my Dad's office floor number. If I waited any longer, they would've already taken his stuff out and sorted through it, taking away all of SHIELD's property, unfortunately including Thor's beeper.

And another tiny thing.

The doors opened, revealing a less than warm atmosphere.

Concrete floors and ceilings stretched about 40 feet, glass windows letting warm sunset light leak into the otherwise stale hallway.

I've spent hours hanging out in my Dad's office after training, waiting for him to do paperwork or get back from various domestic missions.

Whenever you're stuck like that, you pick up a lot of hobbies. Not that I was ever the best at them. Among the hobbies include quilting, poetry, and reading.

Unfortunately, I was never allowed to do sports, so I made up for it with a random assortment of pastimes. But I did play a mean game of tennis.

Dozens of people brushed past me in the hallway, all of them getting a good look at my face, their own faces contorting into concern.

I ignored them, rapidly walking towards the direction of my Dad's office door.

Four Agents were already in his office, with silver briefcases. It looked as if they'd just gotten started.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked in a reserved tone as I walked into his office, catching the instant attention of the agents.

"It's Fury's-"

"Fury's orders, right, of course," I said, "What about this- you sit out for a hot second while I look for something personal, alright?"

They took a quick glance at each other, and back to me. "You can't take any SHIELD property."

"That's exactly why I said I'm looking for something personal," I said, sauntering through the room to the book shelf, picking up a random poetry book and thumbing through it.

"Right," They said, standing off to the side, hands clasped behind their back.

I calmly set the book down, walking over to the desk, I opened a drawer, pulled out Manila files and peered into the back of the drawer, looking for a latch.

When my Dad got back from New Mexico after answering the 0-8-4 for what turned out to be Thor's hammer, he brought me into his office. Since we'd gotten a new ally on our side, Dad thought it was best to show me where to call him during an emergency.

I spotted the latch, pulling it open under the watchful eyes of the Agents.

Reaching my hand inside of the drawer, I waved my hand around looking for the box.

But only pulled out a cluster of cobwebs.

Probably someone who has had a seat at Dad's office. And since there were still SHIELD files in the drawers, that meant that someone else had come in before this team.

Someone who knew I'd want it. Someone close to me.

Fury.

Chapter Text

"Meredith Coulson is missing on site; she is no longer permitted and must be removed from the premises, over," both of the Agent's walkie-talkies echoed.

We stared at each other for a solid four seconds after the alert before I jumped into action.

The door was still open, ready for someone to see me at any moment.

"Stay where you are," I ordered, slowly walking towards the door, picking up an ICER from Dad's desk, my eyes glued on them, daring them to make a move.

Cautiously, I closed the door, locking it and shutting the blinds.

"I need something, and I need it quickly, and you're going to tell me where I can find it," I said, keeping my ICER at my hip, lazily pointed towards them.

"Depends on what it is," one of them said, crossing his arms.

"The Marionette Serum," I said, peering into one of the cardboard boxes that they had already begun to pack.

"Can't have it. Experimental and confidential," He said, fearlessly. In direct contrast to his partners, who were practically biting their nails and shivering under my lazy attempt at intimidating them.

"I'm going to get it anyways," I insist. "We can skip all of the dramatics if you just tell me where to find it, and we don't have to make a scene. You don't want to make a scene... Do you?"

A loud knocking began to rattle the blinds on the door, grabbing my attention.

"Now look at the mess you got us into," I said, shaking my head slightly with a slight tut through my lips.

"Fury apprehended it a week ago and sent it to the lab," the other one said, causing all of his colleagues to erupt into a collective groan.

"Nice," I said, tucking the ICER into my belt, the knocking getting louder. "I'm going through my personal belongings now, if you don't mind. Let whoever is banging on the door so obnoxiously in, do me a favor and don't say a word, capiche?"

One of them walked towards the door while I made my way to the bookshelf, picking up a book my Dad had given me when I was young.

I'd kept it on his bookshelf whenever I was bored and wanted to read it.

It was a gift for completing my first phase of training, and it quickly became one of my favorite books.

The Agents barged through the door, guns raised as I picked it up off the shelf, casually ignoring them.

"Meredith, you have to leave now, we'll send you all of your personal belongings, there's no need for you to be here any longer," they ordered.

"But what about the hidden compartments?"I asked, looking up from my book and behind where it once was.

"There are no secret compartments SHIELD doesn't know about," one of them said, just as Agent Sitwell walked in the door.

"My Dad was always a little sneaky," I laughed, giving the wall a little push, watching it contract and reveal exactly what I thought would be there.

The emergency fund. A little something my Dad threw together for times like these. SHIELD definitely didn't know about this.

There was one at the house as well, but I definitely didn't have any time to kill.

Maybe if I didn't allow myself to be blinded a few minutes ago, I could've simply gone home and planned everything out carefully and precisely.

I was wasting time now by regretting everything I did wrong instead of making it right.

Snatching up the envelope, I tucked it into my book, and under my arm.

Looking up, I realized the only person left was Agent Sitwell.

He was the one in charge of me, if I put it simply. Where I go, what I do, who I'm with. Of course, Fury has the final say, but Fury doesn't always have the time to say everything, so Agent Sitwell does.

Thankfully, I was freed from him just 15 minutes ago.

"You don't know what you're doing," He said, blocking the doorway, my attention only drawn to his bald head reflecting the fluorescent lighting.

"Sadly for you, Agent Sitwell, I quit, so you don't get to control me anymore, I'm done," I smiled, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Freedom is sweeter than I ever could've imagined."

"I do have the decency to warn you, even if we're no longer affiliated," he said.

"Fury has already warned me, and if he can't convince me, then you sure can't either," I said, waiting for him to move out of the way.

"No, Fury warned you about Loki, I'm warning you about Fury."

Speechless, I stared at him, my mouth slightly falling slack.

"Some of us won't stop you, but Fury will. He'll send everything he's got at you and won't hesitate to stop you by any means necessary," He continued, not looking away.

I felt the need to defend Fury. After all, he has been here for me through thick and thin. All of my loyalties are to him and him alone. Even if we weren't on the best terms from here on out.

Right now, I'm doing this against him. But I would never side with anyone else against him except for myself.

"If you've got your own reservations against Fury for what happened between you two, then now is not the time to hash it out. If you'd like to assist me, then fine, but don't incriminate yourself."

"Like I said," he whispered, turning around and slightly pulling the curtain aside to take a peek, "This is simply a warning. I'm trying to get you to get out of here before Fury finds you and reprimands you from doing anything."

"Then we'll compromise, I'll get what I need, and you'll do the rest," I proposed, "I need the marionette serum. Coincidentally, I also need my vitamins. They're both in the lab, so I'll retrieve those myself."

"I never said I would help you, Meredith," He said.

"You will help me because with this new information, I can tell Fury and the rest of the Board that you're siding with me. How will that look when I... let's see..." I try to remember what Fury warned me about, "Start a war"?"

Agent Sitwell sighed. "What else do you need?"

I grinned victoriously. "Get Fury out of his office. It's too suspicious if they find you in there alone. I know where he keeps his beeper for Carol and Thor, and I know he's not expecting me to barge into his office, so report that I've been taken off site and I'm not hostile anymore."

Sitwell's hand reached for his in-ear monitor. "Meredith Coulson has been removed from the site and is being brought home by an Agent. She is no longer hostile."

"Speaking of transportation, I'm going to take a helicopter on the roof," I demanded after he made his message.

"That's a lot to request," He said.

"The war," I recalled.

"Fine. Helicopter on the roof it is. And since we're both trying to not get in trouble, I'll clear out the hallway."

He reached for his cellphone while I walked across the room to the door, resisting the urge to shove some of my Dad's belongings into my pockets.

"I'll be in the lab, you do what I told you, and I'll be seeing you on the roof," I said, pointing my index and middle finger in a quick flick of the wrist to move him aside.

He watched me intently through his round glasses as I walked out without another word, loosening my tie.

The hall had emptied, and all that was left was the dust on the floor.

My footsteps echoed as I walked to the elevator, pressing floor -2 and watching Sitwell exit his office, his eyes still watching me as the doors slowly closed.

The elevator was uncharacteristically quiet, my ears roaring from my blood pumping so quickly.

A few moments later, the doors opened to the cornea burning lights of the lab, it being just as busy as the rest of the place.

Perfect to slip in and out without drawing too much attention.

I weaved through the lab-coat clad Agents, their eyebrows all furrowed with the same focused expression.

Now to find the marionette serum.

Usually serums used for the mind specifically are made in the left wing, and I was as far right as it got. Luckily enough though, I haven't been there enough times to know my way around, giving me a perfect excuse to somehow wander into the left wing.

Slowly, I pretended to scan the shelves of various medications and serums while I crept farther away from the right wing, keeping a watchful eye out for any scientists with growing suspicions, or worse, recognition.

I never hung around the scientists, unfortunately, it was never my expertise. I'm just fine thinking they boil blue water in glass vials and call it NyQuil.

Entering the left wing, I saw the two alienated metal doors across from the sinks, completely open and unattended.

They should really keep a better eye on these things.

I reached for the handle, just before I heard a loud shout from behind me.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Someone yelled.

I turned around, eyebrows raised.

"I can't tell you, I'm a level 8. You're a, what, a 3?" I asked, looking her up and down.

"I'm a level 6 and, for your information, I'm the pre-executive of the Biochemical Engineering wing," she said in a posh British accent, returning my attitude by placing her hands on her hips.

"Alright, well, I'm doing someone a favor, and I can't tell you for who or what for," I said, trying to pull open the door, only to realize that it was locked when the door wouldn't budge.

"You're Meredith Coulson, aren't you?" She asked.

"No, there's two 6,3 curly haired girls running around here," I said, turning my attention away from her, jiggling the door handle again. "Common misconception."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mistake you for her," she said. "I would've had to have you arrested, because she's not supposed to be here, Director Fury said that she had quit, so she was no longer allowed on premises. A terrible thing, really."

Frozen, I stared at the door for a split second, realizing that I'd just saved myself some time with a stupid sarcastic remark, which made my lips curl up into a twisted grin.

"Yeah, I think she's going crazy, or at least, that's what I've heard, word gets around fast, doesn't it?" I said. "Can I have the key now, please? Or else I'll have to report you and you might lose your pre-executive title."

"Oh, right," she said, reaching for her key and handing it to me.

"Thanks, you're a doll," I winked, putting the key in and unlocking the door.

Endless rows of industrial shelving housed thousands, maybe even millions, of medicines, serums, vaccines, drugs, anything.

I grabbed hold of a ladder, searching for the numerical code for the marionette serum on the outside of the metal boxes. 12B94. Also known as the MS.

After about two minutes of searching, I finally found it. I flipped open the box, revealing a nice set of 12 vials.

But before I grab them, the doors on the opposite side of the lab immediately burst open, four Agents bursting in, all armed and suited up.

I grabbed a random vial off the shelf above the MS, tossing it at an Agent, hoping it wasn't a chemical that would burn his face off or something. That'd be too harsh. And I wasn't here to hurt anyone.

Piling them all into my arms, I launched them at them, as they were quickly increasing on me.

It only made them angry.

"Come on, come at me, let's do this," I said, standing my ground, ready to take him on.

He accepted the offer, coming out the gate swinging. Trying to play the game I invented.

I blocked his punch, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back, delivering a quick stomp to his bottom.

He flew across the room, knocking away at least two of the other agents that stood in the way.

"You didn't even get a lick in on me," I laughed, grabbing the marionette serum from the shelf, opening my shirt to stash it in my bra.

But not before an arm wrapped itself around my neck, forcing the air from my lungs.

I grabbed the arm, and tossed the person over my back, and they hit the floor with a crunch, groaning from the impact.

The vial.

My head darted around, looking for the purple vial that slipped out of my hands, only to find it shattered on the concrete ground, all of the serum on the ground.

"Guess I'll just have to take them all, since you can't seem to behave for the life of yourselves," I said, picking up the last four vials and stuffing them in my pockets.

I snatched the ICER from the collapsed Agent, aiming it at the others.

"Make way," I said, both hands clutching the handle, finger on the trigger.

Unfortunately for them, they did not make their way, which leaves only one thing to do.

One of them aimed their gun right at me, beads of sweat falling from their forehead as their hands shook.

Grabbing their wrist, I pointed the gun to the ground, hearing a gunshot go off into the floor, twisting the gun from their clutches and pushing them aside.

Throwing the gun over my shoulder, I made sure it couldn't be used on me again.

I was met with yet another punch, that I blocked as easily as the first, grabbing their arm and twisting it just before it snapped.

Swiftly, I delivered a punch to their jaw, grabbing their shoulders and kneeing them in the stomach.

They quickly found out that punching wasn't working.

An Agent raised their leg in an attempt to kick me in the gut, but I grabbed their ankle and twisted it back, throwing it over their shoulder, making them flip in the air.

I could practically feel their confidence wavering as I went through them like a shark's fin through water.

The last two were still ready, fists balled and ready to drag me away.

"I'm not going to throw the first punch and you should be smart enough not to," I said, "no one is in danger unless you put yourself there by defying me."

Their fists were still balled.

"Interesting," I said, raising my ICER and shooting them both.

Grabbing a briefcases from one of the shelves, I dug my serums from my shirt, tossing them in and shutting it with a click.

I opened the doors to the storage unit, and was met with unsuspecting lab Agents.

I pulled the loose strands of my hair back into place, making sure not to clue anyone in on the fact that I've been throwing some people down.

"I seem to be turned around," I said to the nearest lab Agent, a tall curly headed boy, "where are my vitamins?"

"Oh, uh," he said, his eyes widening, "you're Meredith Coulson? Your vitamins-"

"Yes, where are they? I'm actually not supposed to be here, but I forgot that I just ran out on my way to the exit," I explained, clasping my hands, "But you can keep a secret, can't you?"

"Well, you're in the wrong wing," he laughed, "I'm Rex, and these are the serums we use in the field, and we classify your vitamins under antibiotics because, well, they're pretty unique-"

"I know, very mysterious," I interrupted, "let's go get those vitamins, Rex."

He shook his head, and led me through the lab, right back to the left wing.

"There's hundreds of these in the back, I'll just give you the whole case and send them to you monthly, like a subscription," He explained, grabbing a notepad and pen from a countertop.

"That'll work," I said, loosening my tie, keeping an eye out for more Agents ready to pounce.

The lab was incredibly large; the second most largest division of SHIELD, only behind strike.

My shoes clicked against the tiled floor, causing some of the scientists from inside their glass stations to raise an eyebrow.

I did look a little out of place; my brown suit contrasted very harshly against the pristine white and silver of the lab.

"They're just in here-" he said.

The door was straight ahead, my feet willing me to go a little faster, just to get out of the potential war zone.

"There she is!" Someone yelled, my head snapping in the direction it came from.

The girl scientist from earlier, that I thought I'd fooled, was pouting at me, surrounded by a swarm of strike agents, all highly armed with guns, ICERs, batons, and tranquilizer guns.

I hate tranquilizer guns. It tricks you into thinking you just have a tiny itch, but before you can scratch it, you're out cold.

Throwing my arm around Rex's neck, I used him as a shield to protect me from the hostile agents.

All of the lab agents pulled weapons from their lab coats, the sound of metal clicking echoed throughout the lab.

"This isn't personal, and if you'd just put your guns down for a hot second then maybe I'd be able to get that through to you," I grunted, looking around at all the agents.

There must've been about 50 people, all ready to fire.

I tightened my arm around Rex's neck.

But that didn't feel right.

I found my humanity, unleashing him from my grasp in a jerking motion.

The glares of all the Agents still persisted as Rex tripped away, trying to catch his breath.

"Aren't you the least bit confused? As to why I'm being targeted? Are you just blindly following Fury?" I yelled.

One of the Agents stepped forward, completely clad in pinstripes, a small handgun raised with both hands. I recognized him as one of my Dad's close colleges; Lieutenant Joseph Rivers.

"We follow Fury because we trust him," He said. "Maybe you should do the same and come quietly."

"Maybe I should," I said, dropping my weapon.

"Just like that?" He asked, not dropping his guard as he kept his gun high.

"What, did you want to shoot me?" I said as a few Agents came up behind me and shoved my wrists into handcuffs, stealing my briefcase.

"Quite the opposite," he said."I'm sorry, about your Dad, truly I am. He was a great man, and I know with time, you're going to see that you don't need to get your revenge."

"Oh, so he just told you everything, didn't he? Like I keep saying- but no one wants to listen- it's personal."

"It won't be personal whenever we have to suffer another loss."

A few Agents shoved me into an elevator with the man and four bodyguards.

The elevator was one of the bigger ones. Usually the one we'd use when transporting criminals or heavy machinery.

Rivers stood in front of me, my briefcase in his hands, while the other four Agents surrounded me.

We rode for about 30 seconds before Rivers decided to open his mouth.

"I find it hard to believe you'd actually come quietly. What are you planning?" He asked, hands clasped behind his back.

"You know me too well, Lutinetenant," I answered dryly.

In a split second action, I jumped over my handcuffs, grabbing Lieutenant Rivers's head, knocking it against my knee, knocking him out cold, his body hitting the ground.

I grabbed the heads of the two guards in front of me, bashing them against each other with a satisfying clonk.

Kicking up the gun that fell from the strike agent's belt, I held it up to the fourth and third agents.

"You said you were done," one said, his forehead glistening in the fluorescent lighting on the elevator.

"I lie sometimes," I said, grabbing his wrist and letting the gun fire at the ground.

Pulling my knee up, I kicked him in his stomach, right under his rib cage, make him crumble to the ground

"Save yourself, kid," I said, straightening my tie as I watched him writhe.

The fourth agent somehow made their way behind me, but their efforts were quickly in vain. I threw my fist at him, punching him in the jaw, instantly knocking him out.

I pressed the button for Fury's floor, fully prepared for someone to interrupt the obvious crime scene.

We reached the floor they originally tried to bring me to, a ding signaling the doors were about to open, and when they did, I was met with the same thing I had faced just minutes before.

Before they could ambush, I kicked the first person to enter in the chest, pushing them out and into the other agents.

I smiled, icing them with the ICER I had picked up from the fallen agents.

I threw Mr. Pinstripe and the young Agent one by one out of the elevator. Perhaps as a warning or a distraction from the fact that the elevator was now taking me away to Fury's floor.

The doors closed.

"Don't you worry about me... don't you worry about me," I said to myself, straightening my tie.

The elevator took me all the way to the top.

Under different circumstances, this would be a great view. I could see almost all of DC from up here.

Lights twinkled off of the water that surrounded the Triskelion, making it seem as though it was sparkling. It made up for the lack of stars in the sky.

The elevator dinged, opening its doors to Fury's pristine, and as expected, empty office.

My bag still laid by the chair, where I left it before the news,

"Where's the helicopter?" I asked Sitwell, who was standing behind Fury's desk, hands clasped in front of him.

"I couldn't do it, but I did get you a parachute," He said, nodding towards

I stared blankly at him, licking the inside of my bottom lip as I watched his eyes scan Fury's desk hungrily.

"Fine," I groaned, "move out of the way."

Sitwell lingered for a few seconds before backing out of the way, watching as I pulled the desk drawer open, pulling out a TV remote.

"That's... it?" Sitwell asked, looking at it intensely.

"No, no," I laughed, "this... this is just stupid."

Pressing buttons 7-6-5, I watched as the tissue box flipped over, unveiling three beepers hidden inside the hollowed out metal box.

"Would you have looked in the tissue box?" I asked, reaching over the desk and grabbing one of the beepers, flipping it in my hand.

Eyes wide, he looked at the beepers, then back up at me, his lips slightly parted.

"How'd you know?"

"Intuition," I smiled, sticking the beeper in the inside pocket of my blazer, "When do we get our weapons back?"

"We just sent them out a few hours ago, refurbishment takes at least 9 hours, plus the time it takes for them to get back from New York," he said, his head nodding to the left.

"Not unless I meet them halfway," I said, raising my bag for things I might be able to use.

"SHIELD will hunt you down, catch you, and detain you- and the police might get involved too," Sitwell said.

"SHIELD can't do any of those things if I'm already detained."

Chapter Text

The doors locked, sending a loud echo through the holding chamber, leaving me all alone in my cell.

Coldness overtook me, the completely white interior being the obvious catalyst, as there was no air conditioning, only a few vents in the top of the soundproofed wall.

“I found her in Fury’s office, after I had told him I had a handle on it- I was lied to,” Sitwell said into his earpiece, “Yes, she’s detained now, we’ll figure out what to do with her soon. We probably won’t be able to do anything with her for a while- but a second chance isn’t out of the question.”

I raised my eyebrow with a smile. Soon, a second chance will be out of the question.

But did I really want it to?

Since I was young, I wanted two things in life.

To work for SHIELD, and to make my proud Dad. Whether it was making good grades at the academy, completing a mission without any bumps, or maybe even making a really good cake, it was always the objective.

And now I had to choose. Avenge my Dad, or keep working for SHIELD.

I had a second chance to think about what I wanted, something I had forgotten to think about in the heat of the moment.

Maybe if I was really good about it- all of this rebellion- they’d give me a third chance.

Or maybe this was my chance to get free.

I never liked having to deal with the enemies, no matter what they did. Except that scientist I had just encountered in Argentina. It was one of the things I truly hated with my whole being.

Human experimentation. I’m a human experiment.

And I don’t even know what they did to me. I know they gave me heightened strength, hence… well, being able to join SHIELD at such a young age.

Dad was one of the Agents that answered the report, on May 12th, 1992. He’d only been working at SHIELD for a short while, and it was one of his first missions.

I had grabbed Dad’s finger, and accidentally broke it. That’s how they found out I had amplified strength.

Even after they took me to shield, Dad advocated to find a SHIELD Agent to adopt me. He tried for weeks and weeks, but couldn’t find anyone. So he did.

Often I wonder what I would be doing today if I was never taken and experimented on.

Maybe I would have a mom, a dad, siblings, pets. If I would’ve been good at sports or what job I would have. Probably a vet. Or a bird watcher. Or a poet. Maybe even a politician if I really shoot for the stars.

I try not to dwell on what could’ve been, as what is is always more important than what could’ve been.

Which put me right back where I started.

Sitwell turned off his ear monitor, turning back to me.

“You need some time to think about what you’ve done,” he said, tilting his head towards me, his eyebrows knitted, “Your Dad’s funeral is scheduled for Thursday at 4:00 PM, I’m sure that gives you plenty of time to work things out with yourself.”

We were surrounded by cameras, but thankfully I could see right past the facade.

Before Sitwell ‘ran into’ me, we had devised a quick plan on how to get me out of here and to the weapons transport trucks.

He said that almost all weapons were used or transported to New York during the battle, and they would be coming back through DC tomorrow at 8:30 AM.

I needed to break out of this cell before 8:30, or… I could put the fists away for a while.

It seemed like the obvious solution was to smoothly talk my way out, to one person that I knew I could any day without any problems.

Just when I think I might finally get away from him again, I always find myself running back, as if he were my gravity. Just the way that nature is.

It only made me angrier and angrier to think about. Not only did it get under my skin; but it got under my skin, my bones, my muscles, all the way to my lungs, where it multiplied and overpopulated and suffocated me until I hallucinated that I was having the time of my life.

I was back to the question of how much I really wanted this.

Sitting in cells was always incredibly humbling and thought provoking.

My options were slim: get Ben on board, lie about being a changed woman and hope they’ll set me free, or give up.

I could combine the first two options and lie to Ben and tell him I’m a changed woman, but he does not have the clearance to do something like that, and I’m not sure he ever will. He barely has clearance to go to the cafeteria without permission.

Looks like I’ll be a changed woman when I wake up tomorrow. It would be more convincing if I had all night to think about it.

I felt like a toddler scheming to get out of time-out.

Laying down, I stared at the plain white ceiling, waiting to feel tired.

I didn’t want to think about Dad. But the more I thought about not thinking about him, the more I did.

There was nothing to listen to except my heartbeat and my breathing, both being incredibly fast.

So for 12 hours, I fought my thoughts with push-ups, pull-ups, and planks. Something told me it was morning whenever I started to feel tired.

A knock sounded from the other side of the door, jerking me fully awake with excitement and anticipation, filling my head in a split second sugar rush of emotions.

The excitement faded quickly after reality came crashing in after the split second assumption that on the other side of the door could be my Dad, finally coming back to me.

“Meredith? It’s me- Ben, Fury said I could come talk to you.”

I ignored him, laying on the bed towards the wall.

“I’m really, really sorry, about your Dad,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Why’d you come?” I asked, my muscles tensed just like they did before a fight.

“I just wanted to comfort you,” he said, “and give you this. I snatched it up before it was taken away by those bleach blonde interns.”

He opened up a slot on the side of the holding cell, dropping something in it and closing the door.

I walked over to it and pulled it out of the white box. It was my Dad’s badge.

The silver glistened under the light, none of his fingerprints or wear and tear stains on the leather encasing. It had been freshly cleaned and polished of the last bits and pieces of him.

“You can comfort me by not mentioning him at all. Matter of fact, you can comfort me by leaving,” I said, hiding it away from myself by wrapping the silver chain around my neck, along with my globe necklace.

Now was the time to start convincing everyone that I’ve had a change of heart, that I no longer wanted revenge, and I could be trusted with being let free.

Last night, Agent Sitwell sent a team to my house to retract all of the weapons or SHIELD property. While he was there, he planted three things vital to my mission.

The beeper, the mind control serum, and a tracker, as well as the emergency check from dad’s office.

Since he couldn’t leave any weapons, he just had to give me a yellow brick road to find them.

“I won't leave. You’re obviously not processing your emotions well, but,” he said, a screeching sound coming from the other side of the door, “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just sit here and keep you company.”

The room was silent once again, except for Willter’s foot tapping against the floor.

It was before 6 am. The footsteps of all of the busy agents entering the building at once usually made a loud rumble that usually started aFter 6.

I had to get out of here by 7:30 if I wanted to catch the weapon’s transport vehicle.

“I’ve had a change of heart…” I said, sitting up.

“Yeah? About what?”

“About getting revenge… I um…” I took a deep breath, “justice has been served. There’s no reason for me to go after him. There’s really no possible way to get there. It’d be a lost cause and I’ll go crazy for absolutely nothing.”

“Hm.”

“Right now, I just want to go home. I don’t wanna be in this cell anymore. I just want to go home.”

That was the full truth.

“Fury is coming to talk to you soon,” Ben said, walking up to the glass, “but I don’t really think he needs to anymore, does he?”

“When?”

“Oh, I don’t know, 7:45? There’s no set time, he’s up at Avengers tower now.”

“Avengers tower?”

“Yeah, they’re changing it from Stark tower to Avengers tower after the New York mishap,” he explained.

“New York,” I repeated, ”But he’s going to be in DC in under two hours?”

“I know, but it’s just two hours. I’ll talk to Agent Sitwell and we’ll see what we can do.”

“Please?” I asked, looking up at him, noticing how green his eyes were in the fluorescent lighting.

“No promises. I don’t want you sitting in here all alone,” he smiled, his eyebrows telling a different story than his lips.

“I won’t sit in here for long if you get Fury on the line…” I said, yawning.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I got it,” he said, looking down at his fingers that he twiddled and fidgeted before he slowly turned around.

He lingered before opening the door, looking back at me, up and down as I stared at him blankly through my inflamed eyes.

Ben left, closing the door slowly. I laid back down on the so-called bed, that was stiff and not appropriate for sleeping at all.

They were for criminals. And I’m not a criminal. I’m just a person who wants revenge. It’s really that simple. God-forbid I do something completely rational.

What doesn’t anyone understand about that?

About thirty minutes went by before someone finally came through the door. It was my only ally, as it seemed to be. I hoped there were more.

“Fury said he’d like to talk to you personally before you’re officially released,” Sitwell said, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Right,” I said, shaking my head in understanding, “so I guess I’ll just have to wait.”

“Unfortunately.”

“And I won’t try to break out,” I said with a smile.

“… You will not.”

I shook my head, “You really never know.”

Sitwell stuck his hand inside his jacket, fishing around before pulling out a tiny silver object attached to a silver chain. He hung it on the side of the metal chair, just so I could see it through the glass.

“Hopefully you’ll use this to discern whether or not it’s appropriate to break out, because there won’t be any use in doing so now.”

He paced around the chair, his eyes locked on me like a ticking time bomb. “It’s not like you aren’t always Fury’s #1 priority. I’m sure you won’t have to wait very long.”

“So the watch is to keep me controlled?” I ask. But I knew the truth.

“If you’re expecting me to deny it, I won’t. That’s exactly what it’s used for.”

“Fine, but if Fury isn’t here by 7:45, I’m out, and I won’t pick up after myself.”

“You never did, and I think it’ll get worse, won’t it?”

“As long as you’re around to see it,” I smiled.

“I’ve got better things to do, Meredith,” Sitwell said, quickly leaving the room, but not before muttering, “good luck.”

The thing about these cells is that they aren’t very sturdy. Sure, we put highly dangerous people in here all the time, like the scientist we picked up in Argentina, and I’m sure he’s only a few holding cells down from me, but we, or should I say SHIELD doesn’t really put people like me in here.

And by people like me, I mean people who can lift a car and only break a couple sweats.

To be honest, when SHIELD put me in here, they didn’t think it through. Or, they were taunting me.

Or this was Sitwell’s plan all along.

Tell me he was on my side, just to turn around and throw me into a cell so he can gain the attention of Fury, posing himself to be his savior.

Afterall, it was his idea to act like he had talked me down long enough so that I could be arrested.

But I couldn’t give him all the credit, afterall, it was my idea to let them arrest me so that way I didn’t have to run all night long.

It was probably one of my better ideas, all the way up to about now.

The clock that hung on the chair now read “7:00”, and the rumbling had started from above me, signaling that if I had wanted to break out, now would be the absolute worst possible time.

Ten minutes went by, all of them filled with the soft ticking of the watch.

20 minutes went by, and the watch seemed to become louder and louder.

The clock hit 7:30, meaning I had an hour. And that hour started now. It was evident I didn’t have time to wait ten more precious minutes for Fury to show up.

It would take much longer to go peacefully. That’s usually how it is. Your mouth will take longer than your fists.

Lining myself up with the transparent window, I prepared myself for the glass that would join the preexisting in my arm. And everywhere else.

I left myself no time to think as I threw myself against it with all my strength, the glass crunching like breaking ice as alarms went off throughout the building.

Junping, I kicked my legs into the glass, just as a kangaroo would, breaking it completely, sending sharp shards everywhere. My instincts told me to roll before landing, but I knew that if I rolled, I would roll myself right through glass, creating many more problems than there need to be.

So I opted to land on my knees. Which still hurts. But not as bad as it could’ve.

Getting to my feet, I stormed towards the door. I noticed the keypad, and calculated that Fury had already changed its code. I didn’t have time to guess if he did or did not, so I did what I do best.

In a tick of the silver watch, my fist balled and I punched the keypad, a slight shock going through my arm as I immediately started to hot wire it.

Guards lined up by the door, ready for me to burst through at any minute.

A beep notified me that I had successfully broken through.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped back, waiting a few seconds.

You would’ve thought they’ve learned their lesson about standing in front of a door.

I kicked the door as hard as I could. It flew off the hinges, taking out a few guards in its path.

Keep moving, a moving target is a hard one to take down.

Grabbing an Agent by the collar, I pulled him close to me in an attempt to use the element of shock to my advantage just before I punched him in the jaw, knocking him out. I threw him to the side, taking out the Agents that increased on me.

I grabbed the second Agent that was nearest to the door, snatching the weapon from his hand and turning it back on him, fighting off the other Agents while he backed away. I kicked him in the stomach, turning just before he crumbled toward the ground.

Picking up the door I had kicked off the hinges, I used it to take out the rest of the Agents, swinging it in a 360 before using it as a shield.

The alarm rang in my ear as I ran down the hall, shooting multiple agents down with the ICER I had snatched up.

Luckily for me, the parking garage was dangerously close to the cells, another design flaw that you would only be aware of if you were the criminal.

Having previously learned my lesson, I realized that the stairwell was the better way to go.

And I won’t be walking down the stairs. That would take too long.

Busting through the doors, I wasted no time throwing myself down the round stairwell, catching myself every four floors, keeping up a good pace.

But before I could reach the bottom, gunshots were fired, a few inches away from my head.

“It is not that serious!” I yelled to the mystery shooter, my chest bubbling with anger.

Another gun shot rang out, grazing my arm just slightly, enough to make me lose my balance.

Losing my grip, I fell backwards, hitting the safety railing and quickly falling towards the ground.

Before I could catch myself, I hit the concrete floor of the stairwell, a loud thud echoing through the tall structure, accompanied by a loud groan.

My body ached from the impact, my head pounding with the blaring alarm in my ears, and my blood was beginning to leak out of my arm where the bullet grazed, not to mention the burning of the glass in my knees being pushed into my skin even further.

Every single nerve in my body felt inflamed and pinched.

I scampered to my feet, shuffling away holding my arm, desperately trying to escape the completely unnecessary shooter.

I broke through the doors, looking for any kind of vehicle I could get my hairy clawed hands on.

As if on cue, A man pulled in on his motorcycle, parking it a few feet away from me.

It’s not ideal, but it is cool, quick, and easy. And with the way this guy was dressed, I could tell it wouldn’t be too much of a fight.

“I need this,” I said, grabbing his handlebar just after he pulled into the parking spot.

Before getting a good look at his face, I planted my feet into his chest with great impact, sending him into a nearby car. He crumpled against it, leaving a large dent, a single one of his neat blonde hairs fallen out of place as he looked at me in bewilderment.

I threw my leg around the bike, glancing at him apologetically. Without a word, I drove off, the back tire burning out.

I speed through the parking garage, practically flying around the corners, desperately trying not to crash into any of the cars. Lord knows I don’t need anymore damage to be done.

An even louder blaring, alarm sounded throughout the area. I knew that one. It’s the one we use when we shut the gates on the bridge. The only way in and out of the Triskelion.

Oh.

Glancing over my shoulder at the exit, I could see the gates were quickly coming to a close, completely blocking off my chances at escaping at all.

There was no way I’d be able to make it in time at this rate.

Mid-corner turn, I stamped my foot on the ground, turning the motorcycle 160 degrees, preparing myself for the absolute top 10 stupidest things I will ever do.

Holding my breath, I revved the engine straight towards the opening, just before letting go of the break.

The motorcycle launched itself forward, slightly giving me whiplash as I pulled it up, on top of a car, and right out of the parking garage, and over the water that separated the top floor of the parking garage to the bridge.

35 feet in the air, I braced myself for the impact, my hands tightened to white around the handle bars.

As if it weren’t already, the air in my lungs was completely knocked from me as I landed, the motorcycle bouncing at the impact, throwing me off and sending me flying backwards onto the concrete.

Stumbling to my feet, several gunshots went off behind me, grazing my stomach, ripping a hole in my shirt. My favorite, silk, button down shirt.

I kept running towards the motorcycle, hoping I didn’t do too much damage to it.

The gates were almost closed now, giving me about ten seconds until it was totally and completely impossible to continue. I’m toast.

My hand grabbed the handle bar, pulling the motorcycle back up, wasting no time and jumping on it as fast as I could, trying to avoid the gunshots, while also trying to ignore the stinging in my side.

The gates, a large metal structure designed to regulate who is able to go in and out of the triskelion. It had large, claw-like metal clamps that came down from the top and bottom.

They were moments away from closing. And I could be squashed. I could be.

But I’m not going to.

With all the strength I was blessed with, I pulled the motorcycle up, with me on it, somehow managed to turn to the side, just barely slipping through in time.

The motorcycle slipped from my grip, crashing to the ground a moment before I did.

Hitting my shoulder, I rolled over myself, landing straight on my back.

My heart beat violently in my ears as I struggled to get up to the ground, but despite the aching on my… everywhere, I still smiled, surprised I made it this far. Small victories.

But I couldn’t celebrate for long.

A car pulled up beside me, an older man getting out, a gun pointed straight at me.

“Thanks for offering me a weapon,” I said, my hands in the air, squinting from the bright sun.

“What?” He asked, but I had already snatched it from his hands, turning it around on him.

“You can keep the bike,” I nodded, keeping the gun on him as I got into his car.

I stuck the gun in my suit, grabbing hold of the wheel and putting the car into reverse using the stick shift.

The car was expensive. But he’ll get it back. I didn’t have any time to exchange phone numbers, so he’ll just have to look for it.

I pulled it into a one eighty, the wheels skirting as I sped off, bound for home. And then, Asgard.

Chapter Text

There was no time to be scared to go into my own house.

But I still sat in the driveway, my adrenaline pumping, but my muscles not daring to make a move as I clutched my necklace like it was my life support.

My house just sat there, as pleasant and sturdy as it had always been, but it was one of the scariest things I'd seen in a while.

A day ago, I would've been relieved to see the white picket fence and blooming flower beds.

As long as I could remember, we lived in the same white house in DC, surrounded with beautiful blue flowers, a nice backyard with a large tree, and navy shutters.

It had two stories, the inside was adorned with oak, every single corner of the house having its due share. During golden hour, the sun would leak in through the windows, setting the oak a glow, warming everything around it, making the dust sparkle like it was a beautiful thing.

But now, I knew it was cold. The warmth wouldn't be there anymore. Because it was never the oak, the shutters, or the sun that made it magic.

All I could think about while sitting in the driveway was all the memories. Him teaching me to ride a bike, gardening on lazy Sundays. Drawing in chalk under the shade of the oak tree, brushing away the red and gold fallen leaves that always happened to fall right on my drawing. I could almost hear his laughing voice on a spring day echo in my head.

It was gone. Stolen.

And then I remembered the person who took him from me.

Resulting in the haunting of my favorite place.

Any time now, SHIELD is going to show up and take me away. But for some reason, that wasn't enough to get me into the house to retrieve what Sitwell left for me.

But I just sat there, some force keeping me in my seat.

It took all the strength I had to pull open my car door and drag my feet up the sidewalk and to the front door. The experience was reminiscent of when me and Ben had to trudge through the mud.

Kicking over a nearby rock, I picked up the spare key, desperately trying to get it in the door.

And when I did, I still hesitated to open the door, knowing that going in could devastate me and hinder me from doing what was truly important.

My shaky hand lingered near the doorknob, knowing that any moment now, I would have to force myself through the door.

Right at this very moment, I was two halves of a person. I was a person of anger and drive, and I was a person of fear and sadness.

It's how it's been my whole life, but I was at a loss when it came to getting them to collaborate and coexist equally within me. They were always wrestling for dominance over me, scratching and tearing at my decisions to make for a chance to determine what I'd choose.

And they always knew better than the other.

So I let one or the other win. Usually the angry one always seemed to take the crown, but the sadness may finally take over one day and send me rubbing for the hills, where I felt I truly belonged.

Somewhere away. But not too far from the people I loved. Not under anyone's foot, but also not being the foot.

But right now, this was my house. It was my mind.

And it was my Dad.

I tore open the door, and immediately regretted it.

Right by the door sat my Dad's shoes, right where he had carelessly tossed them aside without thinking a single second thought about it.

The smell of his cologne was infused into the house itself, and I could almost trick myself into hearing his footsteps coming to greet me with arms open wide with a smile that said a million words. The most important being "I love you". I could see it on the walls in our pictures together that he hung. I could feel it in the light of the lamp he had turned on. I could see it through the window, the swing I had on the tree in the backyard he built for me that I stopped using after I turned eight. Most importantly, I could feel it in my veins, even though we didn't share a bloodline.

I anxiously rubbed my forehead after prying my eyes away from the mundane scene that somehow made itself the most significant.

I let it make me angry.

It seemed to come from nowhere but I knew that wasn't the truth. The ingredients were all there and that was the catalyst for catastrophe.

I wanted to destroy everything. I also wanted to keep it just as it was for all time.

Sweat began to pool on my neck, glistening on my forehead and slicking my hands. A pulsing pain came from my side, from where the bullet previously grazed it. I had almost forgotten it, but the preexisting stress made it known the most painful way.

I can't do this. I can't.

Somehow I managed to forget the objective in the split second I had remembered to stay focused on it, which proved to be unsuccessful as I attempted to shake it all off and stuff it in my pocket.

I could already hear the police sirens wailing and screaming in the distance, pushing my head into drive.

Find the briefcase.

It was a good thing I knew exactly where he hid it.

I blazed upstairs, down the hall, and into my Dad's bedroom.

The pocket watch he gave me wasn't just any old watch. I had recognized it from the moment he pulled it out of his coat pocket, and I'll have to admit, it was clever of him.

My Dad had kept that pocket watch on his window sill for such a long time, that when I went to it, there was a mark from where it had sat for almost all 19 and 11/12ths of my life.

Right behind the curtain was the silver briefcase.

I pulled it out from behind velvet blue, plopping it on my Dad's bed. Propping it open, I saw three Marionette serums, Thor's beeper, an ICER, the emergency fund from the secret compartment, and a USB. An envelope slipped out of the briefcase, falling down to my feet.

It was signed "IMPORTANT" in big letters on the front.

I ripped it open, using just my thumb and index finger to pull out a piece of loose-leaf paper that looked like it had been ripped straight from a used notebook.

"PLUG USB INTO BURNER PHONE; TRACKER."

Bingo.

Locking the briefcase back up, I dashed to my room, hyper aware of the limited time I had. Every single moment I spent not moving felt wasted.

I grabbed a burner phone from a drawer in my desk and dug around for the adapter to plug the USB into. Although the gesture was helpful, it was also time consuming.

All of my drawers were cluttered with nick-knacks as well, which didn't make things any easier. I should've listened to my Dad when he told me that organizing my things would save me lots of time in the future.

Finally, I found the adapter, grabbed the USB, the burner phone, and put it all together with a few clicks.

My phone lit up and flashed a message. "DOWNLOAD IN PROGRESS. REMAINING TIME: 30 MINUTES."

I groaned silently, rubbing my forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

It'll be fine, I'll just hide out somewhere while it's downloading. It's only 7:59. Which gave me a whole minute.

The good thing is that it may not be entirely accurate. Maybe I have more time than I think, or maybe less time.

I proved time and time again that trying to rationalize things only made it worse.

While I optimistically waited for the tracker to upload itself quicker than projected, I began to pack a bag of whatever I had at hand into a duffle bag, having to do without the true essentials, as SHIELD had confiscated those last night after I had been locked up.

It was at this moment I realized that I was still wearing heels. Although it is possible for me to fight in heels, it wasn't as practical or effective as fighting in boots.

Throwing off my shoes and my blazer, I tore open my dresser and pulled out the first pear of black combat-style pants.

I pulled my favorite pair of broken army-boots from my closet and did my best to yank them on as fast as I could, tripping over in the process of the complicated laces. I didn't bother to change my button up shirt due to the scarce ticking time I had until SHIELD barricaded me in my house.

Which would in turn prevent me from getting to the weapons transport in time.

I couldn't haul around a briefcase and a bag, so I wrapped the serums in a sock and put the ICER in my belt loop.

In the middle of debating whether or not to bring sunglasses was when I finally heard the dreaded noise. I knew it was coming, but it didn't prevent me from being shocked when a wave of sirens echoed in the distance.

Hastily, I zipped up my duffle bag after throwing in my things.

I rushed out, pausing when I saw the stairs, stirring an opportunistic idea.

I jumped off the side of the banister, landing on the hardwood floor and hearing a small crack. That's why I never did it before.

Through the den, where we had a fireplace and a small bookshelf, was the door to the garage, which is where my car, a plain old black SUV, was waiting for me.

I plucked my key from the keyholder, tossing it in my hands before I opened the door, light on my feet as I rushed to my car.

In a blink, I was speeding out of my driveway, just in the nick of time too, because just as I turned the corner, the cop cars made it to my road, and didn't even see me leave.

After a few minutes of aimlessly driving around, my burner phone vibrated from inside the bag in the passenger seat.

Download complete.

Things may finally start working out. At this rate, I could be in New Mexico by tomorrow.

I needed to act fast before I lost the window. I didn't have much time to take in the fact that it may be the last time I suit up in this house.

Countless mornings I've spent zipping up my suit and pulling on my combat boots, prepared for the day that I could predict. Sure, things happened sometimes that I couldn't control, but in the end I still came back to the same house.

For once in my life, I didn't know where I was going. I didn't have a plan for after the plan. I've faced killers, terrorists, and death itself in my eyes, but somehow this was scarier.

And I was crafted to face death in the eyes and laugh at its audacity.

So for the last time in what I felt would be a long time, I walked out of that door.

And I set my mind on what really mattered, the entire reason why I was potentially ruining my life.

To avenge my father.

Chapter Text

I sped down the highway in my black SUV, keeping a close eye on the truck that was thankfully still in DC, with just enough time for me to secure my car in a nearby parking garage and hop to the next building over to stake out for the vehicle.

Patiently, I waited outside of the door that I had just knocked on. It was the perfect space for a stake out, and if it was a guy, I knew I could pull a fast one on him if I really tried.

It wasn't like I was a stranger to the concept, I just didn't use it often. Acting like a human who should be treated as such and getting what I need or want should be synonymous at all times, even during desperate ones.

The door opened, and low and behold, an old woman in a wheelchair stood on the other side.

She looked me up and down underneath her round glasses, her look completed with a flowery dress and pink sweater.

"Can I help you, dear?" She asked, stoking the calico cat in her arms, while three other felines snuck out, rubbing up against my legs.

I smiled, "Hi. I'm... Tina. You have a lovely apartment."

"Is that all?"

"No, ma'am. I'm with a top secret government Agency, the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division," I said, flashing my Dad's badge that Ben had given me earlier, "I may need to use your apartment for a very short stakeout, if that's alright."

"Oh my," she gasped, "I don't mind at all, do come in."

I walked into the apartment, taking in my surroundings. It would be a shame if SHIELD found out I was here and rampaged through her doors.

It smelled like cats, tea, and Vicks vapo rub. A very specific old-lady smell that reminded me of my own grandmother that passed away when I was 12.

"Does this perhaps have anything to do with the aliens?" She asked, bringing me tea as I watched the dot that hadn't moved for the ten minutes I've been here.

I gratefully grabbed the tea, "Well, I can't tell you that, but don't worry, I won't let anything bad happen to you, on my word."

"Are you one of those revengers? Let's see..." she paused, "the black window?"

"What? Oh, no, I-" I started, but was interrupted by the ding on my burner phone.

The time was 8:30, just the time that Sitwell told me it'd be close.

"Well I can't think of any other women revengers. The rest are all men. I don't believe that Captain America is the real Steve Rogers. The other one was a lot more manly." She continued chatting.

I snorted as I watched the dot continue to move, about 7 blocks away.

She seemed to be a very talkative woman. If I wasn't in such a hurry, I could probably sit and talk for hours and hours with her.

"But Thor is the most handsome of them all. I used to go out with a guy in the 70s that looked an awful lot like him. I'm not sure I really believe that he's Thor either, but we did have an alien invasion on Friday, so I guess I've got no choice but to believe it."

"You're telling me!" I laughed, "Imagine my surprise when I got the call. He's the real deal. He can even lift his mystical hammer. But I think it's probably some fancy technology, like we've got back at the HQ," I said casually, as I walked over to the window, unlatching it. "Plus," I grunted, "I don't like to think about the technicalities of it. Makes my brain hurt."

Grabbing my TCP off the floral vinyl tablecloth where I was previously sitting, I smiled at the lady, "Thanks for letting me barge in here like this. I wish I could stay and chat."

The calico cat brushed up against my leg with a purr.
"Oh it's my pleasure dear, and if anyone asks, I'll just have to say you're my favorite revenger."

"Well, I'm not an avenger, sorry to disappoint, I'm just an Agent Of SHIELD. But thank you for the thought. You have a lovely week," I said, climbing out of the window and onto the fire escape. I could see the vehicle sitting at a nearby red light.

"Thank you for your service. And good luck with your super secret spy whatnots."

"Thank you kindly," I winked before crouching up on the rail.

The apartment suite I was in was about two stories off the ground, leaving ten feet of space between me and the roof.

My plan was simple. I had 40 seconds. Get in, grab weapons, get out.

I needed icers, a tactical sword, a nano mask, and possibly a gun.

Of course, I didn't plan on using the gun on anyone. Unless it was aimed at Loki.

The van kept moving at a speed of about 25 miles an hour, so I only had a few seconds until it passed me by. And I didn't have any to waste.

I saw it in the distance, turning a corner and headed straight past me. Within a split second, it was right where it needed to be.

I lept off of the fire escape and barely landed on the roof of the back van, digging my fingers into the roof, ripping the metal.

The jagged metal dug into them, making me wince with pain at the rips in my skin. My fingertips were bloody, but it didn't prevent me from carrying on.
Painfully, I inched down to the back doors of the van, trying to steady myself as it swerved to try and throw me off.

My fist swung at the glass, punching at it to try and open it.

The truck swerved again, and suddenly, a gunshot rang throughout the street.

Two black SUVs drove alongside the van, and I attempted to spot the one that shot.

I relentlessly and repeatedly swung at the glass, cracking it more and more with every punch.

Just as I was about to swing the final punch to completely break the glass, I heard a loud bang and felt a sharp, biting pain in my leg.

A bullet had been shot right into my right thigh.
"Oh, so that's how we're going to do this?" I snarled, losing balance. My last gunshot wound finally healed, now I had another one to deal with.

I had to get the door open before they shot me where it mattered the most.

The pain from the bullet was distracting, but it wasn't enough to significantly slow me down.

With the final punch, the glass completely broke.

Grabbing onto the hood, I swung myself through the jammed hole.

I fell onto the floor, flinching at the pain. I was already over the time limit, and now I had to deal with a gunshot wound.

It took a few moments for my brain to recalibrate, and before it could, I was immediately shot at once more, the bullets ricocheting off of the van.

Weapons.

My vision was blurring, so I had to do a double take before I realized what I wasn't looking at.

The van was completely empty, except for the two drivers and a passenger. The passenger had been the one to fire. I had broken into the decoy.

I shouted in frustration, hammering my fist into the floor.

"Get on the ground!" He ordered, pointing the gun at my face.

"I would really like to do that for you, but I have my own agenda here, and it's not working out too well," I said, holding up my hands, as if I were trying to calm a wild horse, "if I can have my way with one thing, this will be it."

His eyes widened as I sharply grabbed his wrist, redirecting his shot at the ground, causing the driver to swerve.

He cried out in pain as I twisted his wrist behind his back, kneeling on him.

"Stop!" He yelled, face pushed to the ground, gun to his thigh.

The car swerved once more, tossing me off of his back.

My head slammed against the wall of the van, glass digging into my skin.

"Oh come on!" I cried, "what are you gonna do? Handcuff me?"

"Yes, probably," He sighed, out of breath, scrambling for his gun that I dropped after being tossed.

"Oooh, I'm scared now!" I taunted, holding my thigh, which was spewing blood like a Yellowstone Geyser. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but with how dizzy I felt at the moment, it may as well have been.

The car was still driving, presumably to get me out of the city, away from civilians and cameras.

So if I had escaped now, it'd probably be less likely for them to find me.

I needed to act fast before it was too late. I could still find the other van and get the weapons.

The passenger, presumably a fellow STRIKE agent, began to approach me, who currently was bloody on the floor and starting to feel a little car sick.

As soon as he got close enough, my legs pushed into his chest, knocking him out and throwing him into the wall.

The relief from the victory only lasted a split second before I realized the driver had a gun in his hands, ready to fire.

Catching up to speed, my mind stayed on the fact that I was becoming farther and farther from the objective.

I needed out, and I needed it now. But it was too dangerous, with the van going almost 70 miles an hour.

Jumping into action, I twisted the gun from the hand of the driver, making him lose control. I pulled him up by his collar, throwing him into the back seat so I could take control and pull over, careful not to alarm or harm anyone in my path.

His body went limp on the floor, slumped next to the other agent, who was equally as built.

I am definitely not getting my job back.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel and I pressed my foot against the break. Regrettably, because a few moments later, I heard a chilling crunch as my head was joust forward, crashing into the steering wheel.

I could feel my heartbeat rush in my ears, beating into my throat and hammering in my head.

In my moments of blurred vision, I made out several black SUVs corralling and trapping me in the road. I frantically searched for a way out.

Doing what I knew I needed to, I grabbed the gun from the floor, and cocked it. I wasn't going to kill anyone. I hope I didn't kill anyone. But I was going to do whatever it took.

It was too late to go back now.

Pushing aside the unconscious bodies, I inched across the right wall, avoiding the broken window's clear view.

Just get out. Get to the car. Get somewhere.

Escape.

"Come out with your hands up!" shouted an Agent. I peaked out the window to see 9 Agents waiting for me, loaded with guns and ICERs, all aimed and ready to fire.

"Do I have to?" I whined.

"Stop playing games, Meredith."

"I'm just trying to not get shot again," I said, still feeling the sting in my thigh and my side, "Put your weapons down and maybe I can get serious." I yelled back, hands grasped firmly around my gun.

The Agents were silent, seemingly discussing the matter. Which was the perfect distraction.

I slithered across the van floor, the glass digging into my skin. That's going to be a pain to pull out later.

Shifting to a crouch, I cautiously poked my head up, catching a glimpse at more Agents surrounding the van. I couldn't do this quietly, I had to do it the hard way. The most difficult way.

Hugging my right arm against my stomach, I opened the door with my left, rolling out in a heartbeat and a half. I laid out on my back and kicked the knees of the nearby Agent, grabbing his gun from the ground and arming myself with it.

Four Agents had their ICERs pointed at me, ready to fire at any minute. Gunshots were easy to handle. But an ICER? Dehumanizing.

I shot the weapons from the hands of nearby agents, realizing it would only buy me time, because they had an endless supply somewhere around here.

I needed them all in one spot so that they were easier to take care of. So I gave up.

Steadily, I dropped my weapons to the ground, kicking it away with my feet. My hands went up, and all of the Agents surrounded me.

"On your knees," One of them commanded, and I obeyed quickly, knees dropping to the ground.

I started a countdown in my head. They were going to let their guard down when the handcuffs came out.

But I couldn't act until everyone was here.

The unknown Agent grabbed my wrist, and I twisted to a kneel and threw him over my body, knocking away several other Agents.

Adrenaline rushed to my senses as I grabbed the wrist of an Agent that was still standing, knocking the gun from his hand and kicking another Agent down in the process.

From the corner of my eye I spotted another Agent, ready to fire an ICER. My fight or fight kicked in as I delivered a swift punch to his jaw, blood spilling from his mouth as he coughed up the rest.

I flashed back to the last time I had done something like that, reminded of the aftermath of the previous recipient's face and winced.

The heat of the moment poisoned me.

The Agents kept coming, and failing, to debilitate me. To no avail. And endless waves of kicks, punches, elbowing, kneeing, throwing, until they just stopped coming.

It was like something came over me in that instance that made me fight my way out like it was life and death. An angry and violent person that I never really wanted to be.

But if that's what they saw, why try and prove them wrong?

I stood in shock in the midst of the smokey gaze as I realized what I had just done. In front of hundreds of people. I could take the weapons now, but I fear that'll make things so much harder.

I needed to run.

Panic rushed through my veins as my thoughts raced just as fast. My brain screamed for me to get out of there but. I lingered. The urge to bend down and apologize was strong.

It was a habit. One that all of my trainers tried so hard to break me of.

The tug of war went on and I realized I needed to kill something inside of me. Dedicate myself to the cause I was fighting for, and that I would continue to fight for.

I can't keep fighting myself. And I can't keep ignoring it either.

"They're coming." Groaned a previously unconscious Agent. His face was bloody, presumably from it being shoved onto the hard pavement.

"Who?" I asked, eyes darting down, eyebrows furrowed.

"Cops," He said, and I began to hear sirens getting closer.

I was instantly pulled back to the legal density of the situation. Not only might I lose my job, but I'll also go to jail. My attitude has always been leaning on the "You only live once"side, so in that case I'd rather not spend that time in jail. Not that jail or prison would really stop me.

Being charged for my obvious and necessary crimes would be a pathetic reason to contemplate this.
I'll figure it out later. More time I spend worrying, the less time I have to get the job done.

"Make sure to call the army too," I said, not taking my eyes off the horizon.

I picked up one of the loose guns and started to walk away. The smoke burned my eyes as I took painful meandered steps around the fallen men.

"You aren't above the law Meredith," He said, seemingly given up trying to stop me. He was going to let someone else do it.

I straightened my back, picking my chin up.
"Maybe not. But I'm not above avenging who I loved," I deadpanned, and I started looking for the other vans. If I could just find the one, that's enough, "The sooner people realize that, the sooner everyone stays safe."

Instead of finding the van, I caught a glimpse of imminent police cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing in all its harrowing glory, soon to be surrounding me. And the vans were nowhere to be found.

And my car was probably closer to being uncovered, and that couldn't happen. None of this should've happened. I don't usually do this.

Flight.

I hated the thought of it. But it sounded pretty good.

Tucking the gun into my belt, I began running head on towards the police cars. The traffic had built up behind the van, blocking the interstate and creating a mess of cars, some crashed, others just stuck.

Plan B. Escape the police cars, get to my car, and figure it out later.

I weaved in and out between the cars, and was reminded of the countless tiny shards of glass stuck in my skin with every brush, and the bullet in my thigh with every step.

The cars went on for about a third of a mile. I felt safe, until they began to clear the streets.

I groaned and realized what was probably going to happen next. And I already didn't like the fact that I ran away from trying to find the vans instead of sticking it out.

Police cars drove straight for me, like a bull to the cape of a crimson matador.

Standing in the middle of the road, I stood firm, subtly picking at my fingers. I said I would plan later, and I was beginning to regret it.

I counted down the seconds to start running as I attempted to hype myself up, slightly bouncing on my toes.

The world seemed to move slower and slower as the cops got closer and closer. They got close enough to start slowing down, so I started running.

Shots rang out as I picked up speed, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as I booked it through the cars.

I suddenly stopped, and with that, the chilling squeal of brakes signaled me to jump.

Chapter Text

I found the car with ease.

No police were chasing me. By some wild miracle I was still alive. I decided it would be best to ponder my existence whenever it was a more opportune time; and now was not that time.

Just as the old woman described it, there was a car on the 3rd level, a tarp thrown over it, concealing its appearance.

Clutching my duffle, I approached the mysterious vehicle.

Move faster.

I grabbed the brown tarp, and tore it off dramatically, unveiling something I wasn't expecting.

An artifact of 1990s suburban dreams. A Silver, shiny, Chevy Silverado.

Relief rushed over me. I feared it would be an expensive, nicer car. It would've hurt to put a beautiful car in danger.

Which is why I didn't take my Dad's pride and joy, Lola. A red sports car he had worked on with his Dad when he was a kid. It was also loaded with extra spy gadgets, which reminded me that SHIELD probably put their grimy hands on that too.

I've always been told by people who've survived near death experiences that it changes the way you look at life. And the first time, it did. After a while, it just became "normal" to nearly die on the job. But this time it was different.

I accepted it, then unaccepted it.

The idea I would've seen him as a failure shook me to my core. And the willingness at first felt like true freedom.

Maybe I should think of what I'll do after this is all over. Go to jail? Run away? Forever? Fake my death and start over?

Out of a group of people, I was always the one who was the most prepared. I knew what to say, I knew what needed to happen and I knew how to make it happen. But right now, I'm feeling unprepared as ever, at the worst possible time.

The real curveball wasn't the decoy transport van, it was the fact that I didn't know why the police weren't chasing me, or why I was even alive.

Maybe I'm a ghost.

The pain in my thigh and throughout my whole body confirmed I was definitely not a ghost.

I could take the pain though. Due to whatever gave me my enhanced strength, pain was something it also covered, additionally healing my wounds in an amazingly short amount of time. But I still scared pretty bad, worse than most people.

Sometimes I wonder what real physical pain feels like. This was just an ache. What does a bullet feel like to regular people? How does it feel to be weak? To be the one protected instead of protecting?

I stuck the key into the transmission and put the car into drive, my hand instinctively going to my globe necklace, rubbing the chipped paint on the cold silver.

The apartment was half way burnt, and firefighters had already put out most of the flames. The fully risen sun cast a similar fiery hot glow through the buildings, into waves of heat on the pavement.

I sat in the exit of the parking garage, watching the people mourn over the loss of their homes.

It was my fault. I should've slowed down instead of being so mindlessly reckless.

But I couldn't look back now. I needed to focus. Focus on a plan. I still had my bag, which meant I still had the beeper.

Pressing the pedal, I drove towards Virginia. The sun was high in the sky, the day was only just beginning.

Regretfully, I had to ask the question. "Do I really need a sword?"

The answer? Maybe not. But it would definitely benefit me mentally to drive a blade through his stone heart.

I could just shoot him.

But I wanted him to die slowly. If I'm going to do this, I better do it in the best way possible. A way that would make dad proud.

Which opposes another question, where do you get a sword? Pawn shops are too public and risky, and it shows when they run your ID if you're an ex-SHIELD agent. And more times than not, they don't usually have swords.

SHIELD had swords. And other weapons.

I hated doing this. Especially since it's taking advantage of people emotionally, but I know that if I really needed someone on the inside, he would be the one to count on.

Ben Willter was a reliable person. Even if I'm breaking the law and fighting law enforcement, he'll back me up.

And because me and Ben are such good friends, I hate the fact that I have power over him. Makes me feel icky when he does unnecessary nice things for me.

I might be outlawed currently, but I'm not the kind of person to take advantage of someone I care about.

So I waited. I drove for 2 hours south, through Virginia and crossing the state line into North Carolina, procrastinating picking up the phone and asking, "Hey, can you steal from the organization that you've pledged your life to and afterwards go to jail for it pretty please?"

And then, those 2 hours finally caught up to me in a blaze of lights across a bright orange barricade.

Believe me, I was fully aware that at any minute I could be found and chased. So it didn't come at any surprise when I saw the extravagant measures taken to block me from the interstate.

I wasn't ready to put up a fight yet, on the count of I'm exhausted from trying to reason with them and I still had a bullet in my leg that could very well get infected- and it'd be harder to extract if my skin healed over it.

Detor.

My hands gripped harder onto the steering wheel, taking a sharp right turn onto the shoulder of the road, avoiding them completely.

Next thing I knew, the interstate was in flames.

It happened all so quickly.

The horn, the headlights, the loud bang of metal crashing onto the pavement.

Slamming on the brakes, my body was pushed to the side of the car, my head slamming against the glass window and breaking it in a whirlwind of events.

As soon as I landed, my hand opened the door, stumbling out of the car and onto the road, headlights in my eyes, the sharp smell of gasoline filling my nose.

Adrenaline pumped through my body.

The smell of gas means a gas leak. A gas leak means increased risk of explosion.

And there were hundreds of people in danger. And there was no time to save them all. This couldn't be it. There had to be a way.

I can't let this happen.

"Run!" I shouted, desperately, my voice echoing throughout the dark woods surrounding me.

We were on a bridge across about 20 miles of forest, with nowhere for them to go.

No one moved.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" I yelled again, trying to signal that their lives were in danger.

I had another option.

Running back to my car, I hopped in the driver's seat.

I used the car to try and block the explosion, then quickly hopped back out.

There were four lanes, and 3 cars in each lane to move out of the area. Now was the time for brains and help. I couldn't do anything daring or heroic, I just needed to get them out of here before I killed them all.

I went up to the first car on the left, banging on the window. The window rolled down to reveal a middle aged blue collar worker.

"I need help. Follow my lead and I might be able to save everyone," I said, eyes not leaving him. He shook his head in understanding and jumped out of his car.

"What do I do?" He asked, shutting the door to his car.

I approached the next door, "Knock on the windows and tell them to help warn everyone."

For the next 30 seconds, we went from window to window, grabbing people out of their cars.

"My baby is in the backseat, please I need to get him!" A woman approached me, her grabbing my bloody arm tightly, pushing glass deeper into my skin.

I spotted her car and ran to it, and pulled on the handle.

Locked.

I ran over to the back and grabbed the bumper, dragging the car as far as I could to safety before it happened.

I watched in horror as the eighteen wheeler went into a fiery ball, throwing my car into the empty traffic.

The beeper.

My heart fell to my stomach as I mindlessly rushed toward the wreckage.

The car had fallen upside down on another, windows shattered.

Tearing the door open, I let out a sigh of relief after seeing that my bag was fine. I pulled it out and threw it over my shoulder.

It wouldn't be long before the first responders showed up, so as soon as I picked the lock on the mother's door, I disappeared into the nearby woods, knowing exactly what I had to do now.

✯ 𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬✯

Chapter Text

✯ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇꜱ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇꜱ.

The boy driving us away from the scene was someone I'd recognized the be same one I sat next to in ⅗ of my classes.

But that was no coincidence. Me and him were the only 16 year olds in the Academy, so they probably made sure we wouldn't be too lonely amongst the college aged kids.

"Bill!?" I yelled over the wind flowing through the car windows, my hair slightly blocking my view of his gelled hair staying put despite the conditions of the car.

He yelled something back, taking his eyes off the road and onto me with a polite smile, but I couldn't hear him.

"Sorry!" I said, trying to get the window to roll back up while popping an earplug out of my ear. "Can you repeat that?!"

"It's Ben! Benjamin Willter! And don't bother with the car window, it's been damaged for ages," he said. "It's not an ideal getaway car, but it will get us away from those cops!"

"Such a lame way to end a party!" I said. "It was my first!"

"I'll throw you your second!" He offered.

I laughed, not knowing how to respond to the proposal.

My friends and I had all piled into the random car, one of my friends recognizing him and deciding it was the best option for escaping the fraternity party that was being thrown in celebration of out first week at SHIELD.

Even though I was the one who shared most of my classes with him, I had never really talked much to him. Especially after I unintentionally said something kind of mean about his cologne.

"No, really, what do you like? I'll throw a party, completely legally, that you won't have to run away from!" He suggested again.

"That's the fun part, though!" I said, my hands falling on my knees.

"I think I can make it fun without all of the drunk teenagers and obnoxious music!" He said. "Is that what your earplugs are for? The loud music?"

"Yeah, I can't stand it! I love the party though!" I said.

"You don't get out much, do you?" He asked, shocking me with his boldness.

"How'd you know?" I countered, pulling my brown curls out of my face to get a good look at him.

"Doesn't matter, just let me fix it!" He said, smiling wildly.

"I just might let you!"

Chapter Text

The woods were eerily quiet and dark, the sun unable to to fully reach through the deep brush of the woods. I couldn’t hear anything except for the crickets and crackling of leaves under my step.

The woods didn’t always bring back the best memories. I had every reason to fear it, but I just couldn’t.

I was 13 years old when my trainer at the time set me off into the woods with nothing but the clothes on my back and challenged me to survive for a week.

I could’ve done it, and wouldn’t have questioned it twice, but SHIELD had failed to ask permission from my Dad, and I think you could imagine what happened next.

I was back home within the next few hours after dad had to fight tooth and nail to call it off.

A lot of things have been ruined for me, but I wasn’t going to let the woods be one of them.

After walking for about an hour, I found an open area, perfect to lay down and rest while I thought of a good plan to continue on my journey.

Trying not to think about wild blood thirsty animals stalking me through the trees, I opted to contemplate calling Willter. And I couldn’t decide what I’d rather.

I fear that if I call him now, it will be even harder to pry him off of me, which is not at all what I want. And it’s my pride. More so than I’d like to admit, it’s the latter.

I grabbed my duffle bag, and pulled out my phone. IT was pretty beat up from the crash, but I still had hopes for it to work. Those hopes were soon shot down when I pressed the on button and nothing happened.

The phone was busted.

So on top of not being able to call anyone, I also couldn’t find any means of travel, unless you count hitchhiking or stealing a car. I really didn’t want to steal someone’s car.

About now, I really felt like crying, but you can’t solve a problem if you’re too busy thinking about how screwed you are.

But I wasn’t completely screwed. I still had my map.

During my thirteen years pledged to SHIELD, they instilled the idea and discipline of preparedness in its true essence of life and death. And it always pays off.

I opened the map, and I found the general area of where the wreck happened, and estimated where I was sitting now.

It put me 14 miles from the nearest town, Raketon. My stomach growled, which gave me the first reason to find it. Also the permanent fear I have of being caught.

But I might’ve had a better chance of getting found and arrested if I were in a town. Unless I called Willter.

Sadly, I knew I had all the right reasons to call him. I know he’d come, and I’d do the same for him. But I really didn’t feel like seeing him again after what happened Thursday.

That didn’t and shouldn’t matter now. At a time like this, I couldn’t be picky with how it got done, as long as it got done as quickly as possible.

Because the quicker I get it done, the quicker I can get back to earth and make sure it is known that justice has been served before he is laid to rest.

But could I even trust him?

At least the only thing that will die today is my pride.

It was about 3 and a half hours away, meaning I would get there at about 4:30, 4 if I’m lucky.

I walked for about an hour and a half before sitting down and resting. I knew I needed to extract the bullet in my leg before I had some bad side effects. And I knew Willter could do it. Which gave me another reason to call him, as if I hadn’t already started walking.

But I wasn’t just walking towards a town to call him. I’m also looking for a snack and maybe a mode of transportation.

The idea of knowing that I could just stop walking and decide to do it on my own at any time, up to the point of dialing his number, gave me some sense of dignity.

Approaching the town, I suddenly heard a faint sound of yelling and screaming echoing throughout the woods, coming from straight ahead of me.

I froze, my feet planted firmly.

After pausing for a while to listen harder, I realized that what I was hearing were definitely screams of terror. And judging by the volume, there were at least 25 people, all equally terrified.

Usually, in a moment like this, you’d call the police. But for now, until I am no longer being chased, I am the police.

Being the good person I still like to consider myself to be, even after becoming a genuine menace to society, I sprinted towards the screams.

In the distance, my eyes caught a glimpse of wildly colorful lights, spinning and blinking, about 70 feet high into the bright blue sky.

I paused, a deep breath of relief filling my lungs after I realized it was just a traveling fair- the screams coming from the riders of the death drop.

The ground was damp and the air smelled like gasoline, cigarettes, and cooking grease. A glorious smell that is practically heaven on earth but hell in the stomach.

I hopped over the neon orange border, and crawled out from behind the porta-potties, making sure there were no police around.

The place was crawling with people, all of the rides crowded around an old baptist church, the perfect spot for me to hide out until the SHIELD found me.

A phone booth stood depleted on the other side of the street, a yellow light dimly purposelessly illuminating it, making it seem lonely, sitting out by itself in front of an abandoned Piggly Wiggly.

I crossed the street, narrowly avoiding the honking cars of sleeping children exiting and the cars of rowdy teenagers entering the fair.

And then there I was. Staring at the keypad.

People will always tell you that sometimes you should just do it and not think about it. Like, parachuting.

But parachuting built your pride up, this felt like tearing it down.

Sometimes we have to tear down to rebuild. And I knew that killing Loki in the near future could do it. I could do it.

I dialed in the number I’ve had memorized since I was 17 onto the faded buttons of the keypad quickly and painlessly.

Waiting, I gave myself false hope that he might not pick up.

Maybe he won’t recognize the number and decline the call.

Sadly, he most definitely would answer a call from an unknown number without thinking twice.

It rang a fourth time, and I picked at the skin on my left hand. My stomach growled, my arm hurt, my leg hurt, my side hurt.

“Meredith?”

I jumped off of the side of the phone box that I was leisurely leaning on.

“I’m honestly not surprised that you know it’s me,” I said, talking quietly into the receiver.

A sigh came from the other side. “Well, your car just wrecked in Virginia about 4 hours ago. And you’re one of the few people that ever actually call me.”

“Listen, it’s been a rough day. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and,” I looked down at my thigh, “I’ve got a bullet in my leg. I like my legs a little more than my pride. So, I need you to pick me up, fix me up, and then send me on my way.”

“How do you know you can trust me?” He asked.

“I don’t know. You’re one of the few people I know who isn’t a total snitch,” I said, “and if you do, you understand I’ll make you suffer. That I can trust.”

“Hm, yeah. I’ll see you soon, then. We can get that bullet out of your leg that you love so much. It’s an okay leg, in my opinion,” He said.

“Well I didn’t ask for your opinion, Benjamin. It’s my favorite leg. And I don’t like when it hurts,” I paused. “I assume I don’t need to tell you where I am, do I?”

“You’ll never need to do that, I assure you, you’re too predictable.”

“Well then you better make a good prediction, because I’ll be hiding well,” I said, hanging up the phone.

I made my way back across the street, and despite being as tall as I am, I still managed to narrowly avoid the hood of an impatient car.

Spotting a ticket booth, I pulled a ten dollar bill out of the pocket of my duffle I had stuffed in it before I left. I took my place behind a woman and her son with his hat on backwards.

“Excuse me,” said a lady from behind me, tapping obnoxiously on my shoulder.

“Woah there,” I laughed, “There isn’t any gold in my shoulder, I assure you.”

I cringed at myself trying to seem casual.

“Don’t sass me,” She said in an obnoxious Appalachian accent, “were you doing drugs?”

“Oh I am so sorry ma’am,” I said, shocked at the accusation, “I was just looking for my engagement ring, I lost it somewhere and my fiance is going to kill me.”

When in doubt, play the victim.

“And why would it be behind the abandoned piggly wiggly?” she asked, crossing her arms around her leopard print top, her loud bracelets clanking around her wrist, “And why are you in line for tickets?”

“I went on that ride up there, it might’ve flung off. I don’t know…” I said, rubbing my head, trying to strengthen the lie but ultimately failing. It’d be just my luck to be accused of doing drugs.

“Well I think I’m just going to have to search your bag-”

“What flung off?” said another man from behind me, interrupting a minor heart attack.

Turning around, ready to attempt to get someone to believe me, I realized I didn’t have to.

“Babe…” I whined, the taste of the word feeling sour in my mouth as I directed it at the one and only person who is not babe.

“Yes, love?” He inquired, his green eyes reflecting the light of the carnival rides behind me. He was holding a brown bag of take out food in one hand and a plate of funnel cakes in the other.

“My… My engagement ring flung off when I went on the ride…” I softly wailed, embracing him instantly. To make the lie believable, of course.

My mind felt numb at the moment, the entire system mis-computing at the sight of Ben Willter right before my very eyes; not 10 minutes after I called him.

“No!” Ben gasped sarcastically. He was never the best actor. “Let’s retrace your steps, babe.”

Even though my face was buried in his shirt, I knew the exact face he was making. A snarky smile that meant that he knew his excessive use of the word babe was itching at my nerves, his favorite pastime.

“When did you notice it was missing, baby?”

“When I got off the ferris wheel…”

“Well did you look in the ferris wheel?” Ben laughed.

“No…” I said, getting tears to form in my eyes. “I was standing in line to get more tickets so I could ride it again.”

He pulled me away slightly, keeping his elbow on my elbow, still trying to hold on to his food. “Then let’s get some and go look! It couldn’t have gotten far- and if it did, I don’t care, I still love you all the same.”

Ben planted a small kiss on my forehead, handing me the takeout bag. He wrapped an arm around me as he put down a twenty on the counter, enough for a full day pass for the both of us.

Even though we weren’t spending a full day, just enough for…

I looked at the ferris wheel, counting the number of passenger cars there were.

15.

But there were only 3 different colors.

I’ve had enough punching and kicking for today, I am not going to complain about going on a Ferris wheel 5 times.

He gave me a star spangled paper bracelet, holding onto his own as we walked to the ferris wheel, his arm still around my shoulder, the woman following close behind.

“I lost it in one with a blue roof and a green cart,” I said, through my fake tears and gritted teeth.

Ben explained our fake situation to the person handling the ride, and he let us on one of the green carts.

I bumped my head on the way in, making the cart sway back and forth, knocking Ben to the ground, along with his funnel cakes.

He stared at it sadly, not looking at me as he handed me the takeout bag.

“Sorry,” I said. “You could still eat it off the floor.”

“I could,” He said, still looking at his funnel cake with shock and sadness.

“But you should not.”

The cart went up and over the top, my stomach flipping in my chest.

“That’s yours, by the way,” He clarified, gesturing to the takeout bag in my hand, which was from my favorite burger place ever, Clifford’s grill.

“I have so many questions,” I said, picking up the bag and opening it up, the smell of a fresh burger radiating from it.

He chuckled. “Save them. Really. All of the questions. We’ll do exactly what you wanted, just fix you up and send you off.”

I raised an eyebrow, and ate a fry. “You know why they always call you “Reassuring Ben”? Because no one has to second guess anything you say, like ever.”

Taking another bite, Ben snatched a fry from the bag.

“I have to ask this one question, though… Am I really so predictable that you knew I was going to call you and tell you to swoop in and save me, so much so that you had time to buy me a burger from- what- about 35 miles away?”

“No, I just know that because I’m your best and most trusted friend.”

“I’d like to deny that, but I’m not that dumb.”

We went up and over a second time after I bit into the heavenly burger, mustard and mayo oozing out of the sides, the onions and lettuce crunching ever so perfectly.

Just the smell was to die for.

“Alright, now that I know you trust me,” Ben said.

My head snapped up from the burger, my eyes meeting his, which were displaying all the symptoms of, “gotcha”.

“I didn’t even think about poison, that would be clever though, wouldn’t it? If I were trying to catch you, but I’m not. I wouldn’t dream of it,” He said, casually.

Still staring him down, I took another bite of burger, the sounds of the metal in the ferris wheel creaking, sending a shiver up my spine.

Ben shifted in his seat, glancing down at all of the people enjoying their time at the fair.

“So… this morning, you said you were a changed woman and that you just wanted to go home. For the record, I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that and I’m offended you’d think that I would,” Ben said, the corners of his mouth twisted upwards.

“I am a changed woman, just not in the way shield wanted me too.”

“You’re a changed woman in the way that I’ve always wanted you to.”

“Oh good for me! Now it’s going to be even harder to pull you off of me.”

“So that’s really how you feel?” Ben said, shaking his head slightly as he looked off in the distance somewhere, but not at me.

“I think I made that very clear after Argentina,” I said, finishing my burger.

“Yeah, then you fell asleep on my shoulder for 9 hours. How am I supposed to know what you want?”

“Half the time I don’t even know what I want, Ben.”

“Well, I’ve always known what I’ve wanted,” Ben said, almost in a whisper that unfortunately wasn’t overtaken by screams of the fair goers.

The ride stopped to let us off, and we reentered on a new blue and green cart.

“The other half of the time-” I continued, “Is now. I know what I want right now. It’s easier to know what you want when you’re actively giving up everything in your life for it.”

“You don’t have to give up everything, not yet at least.”

The ride went over the top, giving me a perfect view of everything down below and up above us. In the distance, there were stands surrounding a dirt field, with horses stampeding in it. A rodeo.

I didn’t know what else to say to him.

“Gee Meredith, If you wanted me to jump off a cliff I would without hesitation. Simply leaving each other alone should be easy,” he said after the silence that we wallowed in for a while.

“If only it was. But now here we are. Riding in a ferris wheel together, pretending to be engaged.”

“I guess we just have to face the fact that we can’t escape each other, and it hurts us more to try?” He suggested.

“You should write that down and put it in a poetry book, maybe someone will actually buy that,” I laughed, rolling my eyes as the ride stopped.

We were about to enter the cart a third time, but not before a girl that looked to be about 12 ran up to us, something sparkly in her hand.

“I heard someone was looking for a ring- is this it?” She asked, out of breath, holding up an engagement ring that was definitely real.

Just as I was about to say that it wasn’t mine, Ben somehow got to speak first. That usually meant he didn’t think twice about what was going to come out of his mouth and that disaster was about to insure.

“That’s it! Thank you so much!” He said, and the little girl handed it to him.

Ben delicately grabbed my hand, sliding the cold ring on my scarred finger and holding it up to show the girl.

“How’s it look?”

“Perfect!” She laughed before she ran off.

As soon as she was out of sight, and the woman who accused me of doing drugs at the piggly wiggly had been satisfied, I took the ring off my finger and handed it to Ben.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” I said, gripping his wrist and slamming the ring into his palm, storming away from him.

“Meredith- we’re gonna need a little bit of extra pocket change if we want to get anywhere, this is actually a blessing in disguise!”

“We?!” I yelled, sharply turning around to face him.

“Yeah, we. I’m helping you whether you like it or not- once I know my…” He paused, “my best friend’s dad’s is avenged, then we’ll never have to see each other again. Alright? But we’re in this together.”

“Sometimes I really wish I could hate you completely. But I can’t seem to shove away the persistent little…” I yelled, “the little bit of care I have for you to seem to let it take over.”

“Why do you hate me so much, Meredith?” He asked. It was genuine. Like he really didn’t know.

“Because you told me you’d send me off after you helped me. Now we’re “in this together”? And also because you do stupid stuff like stealing someone’s engagement ring and then playing it off like it was no big deal,” I said, stomping closer to him.

“You stole a motorcycle from Steve Rogers- let’s not be hypocrites, alright?”

“When did I steal a motor-” I froze. “dang.”

Ben nodded his head slowly, confirming it.

I took a deep breath, pulling myself together before I turned to Ben, who had his arms crossed, waiting for me to say something.

“Where’s your car?”

Shamefully, I followed him to his poor old Honda that seemed to run purely on hope and the sheer reliance Ben had on it since our academy days.

“You seem too adamant about this. Do you want something from me?” I asked after I sulked for a while as we drove. “It’s suspicious how quickly you had a change of heart.”

“The main thing is that I want that bullet out of your leg. And I want you okay. Everything else after that we can bicker over till your heart’s content.”

“Better do it before I fall asleep,” I said, laying down again, feeling a bit of weight off my shoulders.

“Well, not yet, I’ve got one more thing for you,” He said, pulling into a RV park.

“Where’d you get the RV? And the knowledge of my whereabouts? I changed my mind, I’m not sleeping anymore, I demand answers,” I said, sitting back up.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled into a spot. He turned off the car and got out, opening the door for me.

I got out on the other side, pulling my duffel bag along with me.

“I forgot, opening doors is your favorite hobby,” He commented, closing the door he had opened for me.

Smiling, I limped to the door, “Right behind eating burgers I didn’t pay for.”

When we got inside, the camper was clean. It had some wear and tear, but it looked empty. Except for the pillows and blankets on the couch, and snacks on the counter.

“Let me get the first aid kit,” Ben said, heading to the back of the camper.

I set my bag on the ground, kicked off my shoes and laid on the floor, almost falling asleep as soon as I laid my head down.

He came back, first aid kit in hand. He crouched by my left leg and cut the material from my pants around my bullet wound.

“How’d you know what leg it was?” I asked, still suspicious amidst slowly falling asleep.

He held up the bloody bandage I had used earlier to fix it up, “Just my trusty intuition.”

Shaking my head slightly, I took in a sharp breath as Willter gently cleaned the entry wound with a sterilized wipe and some rubbing alcohol.

“You gonna fix my pants after this?” I asked, putting my hands behind my head in a relaxed manner. But I was not relaxed at the moment. I hated bullet extractions.

“Well, I’ll probably wrap it up, so fixing it would be useless. But,” He paused, and picked up tweezers from his first aid kit, pinching the air, “When it’s healed, sure.”

Tenderly, he put the tweezers in my leg, his eyebrows furrowed with focus.

Bullets hurt more coming out than they did going in.

My thigh stung, and I winced from the sharp poking on the cold metal. Ben was gentle with it though. It didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve, but I felt much more relaxed with him.

“And that’s why I’m the king of Operation,” He said, pulling the bullet out and placing it in a cloth.

I smiled, “Liar. Penny was the king of operation.”

“Well, I got second place. But Penny isn’t here, is he?” He asked.

“I don’t think Penny would do anything for me now that I’ve committed several crimes. But it’s his loss.”

“Really is,” Ben said, his gaze lingering on mine, before going back to my wound, “Anyways, I’ll have to cauterize your wound.”

Chapter Text

I’d been through worse.

Although a hot knife burning your skin deliberately isn’t typical heaven, I didn’t have many other choices.

“I think you’ve earned a good night's sleep,” Ben said, pulling the last big piece of glass from my skin.

We were sitting on the couch after he had cauterized my bullet wound, and he had started working on my arm, which was in pretty bad shape. Glass was lodged in my skin all up the right side, but after about 15 minutes, he had put a good dent in it.

“I’ve been half asleep this whole time,” I said, yawning.

He scoffed. “You’re supposed to be better at sleep deprivation.”

“I haven’t slept since the night before Argentina. That’s almost five days. My limit.”

“You slept on my shoulder for nine hours yesterday,” he corrected, “Remember?”

“Well then I’m not so sure why I’m so tired, maybe it’s because I spent all day running for my life. That could be it,” I jabbed.

He continued picking out glass, each and every piece he saw.

“Don’t bother, it’s no use.”

When I was younger, I had broken a vase and fell hands first on the glass. To this day, I still pick tiny pieces of glass from my palms. My arm would probably be much worse. Unignorable images of me old and wise
pulling a shard from my arm flashed in my mind.

Ben put some rubbing alcohol on my arm and wrapped it up, protecting it from any infection and further damage.

My thigh felt much better now that Ben had fixed it up, even after the whole cauterization ordeal. It also helped that I was distracted by the pain in my arm.

I knew how to patch up wounds, but I didn’t trust myself due to how tired I was. I would be bound to screw it up and lose a leg somehow.

“So what’s next?” He asked, closing up his first aid kit.

“Sleep,” I said, face down on a couch pillow.

“Tomorrow, I mean. Whatever you need. I’ll be your chauffeur,” He pulled a blanket from the overhead cabinets and put it over me. “For the low, low price of 10 dollars.”

“Talk later,” I said sleepily, feeling him pat my head. Before I could think, I fell asleep. And woke up to the great smell of bacon and eggs.

Before I knew where I was, I was back home on a Sunday morning, and my Dad was in the kitchen.

“Well, I guess we can’t call you star anymore,” Ben said, awakening me with a jolt, pulling on kitchen gloves.

“Ah, that’s too bad,” I answered, rubbing my eyes and dozing back off to sleep, hoping to go back to my fantasy.

“This is serious. We’ll have to find a new nickname,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with an over-the-top amount of enthusiasm, “how about clam? Rollie-pollie?”

I unfolded my legs from my chest, putting them straight in front of me. “I hate all of those. This is completely unnecessary to discuss right now.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. But you didn’t seem to care about Star,” he said, walking over to the sink and turning on the water.

“Because it sounded cool. Especially whenever Luke Bellings added “girl” to the end.” I smirked, knowing that just the mention of his name made Ben jealous.
I earned the nickname during the two years I spent at the academy. Ben happened to find me dozing off in my dorm, all of my limbs stretched out in the shape of a star.
Granted, it could’ve been a lot worse. I could’ve been called Muppet after my childhood obsession that seeped its way into my adult life via keychains and blankets.

I’d bet good money the only reason why they didn’t dare call me Muppet was because they thought I might beat them up in all of my 3 mastered fighting styles and leave no mercy.

They’d be right.

“Okay, but clam could be cool,” he paused, “clam girl.”

Ben made a wide gesture with his bubbly gloved hands in the air as if to highlight it.

“Or… You can call me my name,” I suggested, pulling myself off the couch. My body aches had already melted away, just like new.

The thought seemed to trouble Ben as he stared blankly at the wall, ignoring the soap bubbles he’d somehow gotten on his face.

But he seemed to perk up after thinking for a few seconds.

I dreaded what he’d come up with.

“Okay... stay with me...” he said, “we can bring back the classic. Melliedeet.”

“Hey- only my dad is allowed to use that one,” I corrected, eating the eggs straight out of the pan, not from the plate, chowing down as I opened the fridge for something to take the edge off of the copious amounts of salt Ben had poured on it.

The nickname had originated from whenever I was 2 and attempting to say my name. Melliedeet was the best I could do.

“It seems wrong to call you star or stargirl now, since you’ve developed a new way of sleeping. I just feel like you should have a more honest nickname,” he retaliated, scrubbing at a bowl with great intensity.

“It’s not my job to make up my own nickname- it kind of defeats the point,” I said, raising an eyebrow with a slight back tilt of my head.

“How about we just call you Batman.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hey, it’s not your job, remember?”

“Is it yours?”

“As your chauffeur, I, Benjamin Willter, must appoint upon you a new nickname by the time our journey is up,” He said, crossing his arms, getting bubbles on his t-shirt,“It’s my job and I take it seriously. Very, very, seriously.”

I blinked at him as I chugged a bottle of sunny-d.

“What time is it?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, realizing our time was limited. Drinking orange juice takes way too much time.

“It would be… 11:44! Your lucky number, 44, I think that’s a good sign!” He said enthusiastically, pointing at the clock on the wall with his scrub brush, only to be met with more blinking.

Great. I’d already wasted half the day sleeping peacefully when there was work to be done.

After staring at him for a good three seconds, I turned my back, looking for my boots and my bag. “Get your things together, Chauffeur, I’ve got places to be.”

“Where are you going?” He asked as I pulled on my boots.

I paused, turning to look him in the eye. His eyes latched onto mine as I pulled open the door.

“We,” I corrected.

Honestly, I was wasting more time arguing with him about whether or not he were to come along than I would with him joining me.

And bringing him along would actually heighten my chances of making it back in time for Thursday.

Doing it without him was a possibility, but a slim one. I wanted to be back by Thursday for Dad’s funeral, and letting him help would save me heaps of time.

“Wait, really?” He asked, dropping the plate he was washing. “I mean, uh, let me get my stuff.”

Pulling off his gloves, he ran to the back and came back in a split second, pulling on a boot. Jumping around, he pivoted and ran back.

I turned the sink off that he had left running and crossed my arms, yearnfully gazing at the plate that was still waiting for me. It looked delicious. But the truth was, I still didn’t trust him.

After what happened Sunday, he shouldn’t be so willing to help me. For all I knew, the eggs could be laced with some kind of sedation and he could drag me back to SHIELD. He just gave me the burger to make me THINK that it was okay.

“Uh, where exactly are we going?” Ben asked from the back in a yell, and I could hear him rustling around his drawers.

“New Mexico,” I paused, crossing a foot over the other, “backroads. I don’t have any weapons since the truck robbery was a bust.”

“Not anymore!” He said, turning the corner with a backpack. Dressed in SHIELD agent attire. He always looked put-together and neat.

“I’m driving,” I declared, walking out of the camper. The air felt comfortable and fresh, thanks to the abundance of pine trees that reached for the heavens. I stepped over the needles and Willter soon joined my side.

“I think that might technically classify as stealing,” He said, tossing me the keys.

I smiled, “Good idea.”

Ben hopped in the passenger seat and I in the drivers. Putting the key in the admission, the car sputtered on.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it, I gave up on the sword thing.

We drove for a little bit before he finally spoke up. It was uncharacteristic for him to say so little. I was getting worried. But he let me drive. So maybe I could trust him. I knew I could the whole time, actually.

“So, you tried to rob the highly-guarded weapons transport whenever you could’ve just asked me.”

I let out an exhausted sigh.

“I thought we were past this whole mysterious narrative,” Ben said, trying to tidy his car by throwing some trash in the back seat, adding to the already messy situation he had going on.

“Fine, you wanna know?”

“I do. It’d be nice to actually help you. I can help you, you know?” He said, annoyance in his voice.

“You’ve helped plenty. I get to keep my favorite leg.”

“Meredith.”

He had said my name like that in 2010. He was waiting for me on my back porch for me to get home after I snuck on a local mission. It was against the rules, but even then I was testing my limits. He wanted to know where I was, but of course, I kept lying. Then when I came clean, I tried to justify it.

And the way he said my name made me want to spill my guts so I did. And he didn’t tell a soul.

If I was going to tell anyone anything, it’d be Ben. He was the only person I ever trusted, besides my dad.

“I wanted a sword. But I’m past that now because I don’t have time or the resources.”

Ben let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, see! We do have time and resources because I know exactly where you can get one. Haha!”

“Where?” I asked, whipping my head towards him.

“A little blacksmith shop, just 24 miles away. I’ve met him before on a mission, we’ll be in and out in no time!” He exclaimed.

“Willter.”

“What?”

“Do you know how long it takes for someone to craft a sword?” I said, in disbelief that he really thought a blacksmith was a good idea.

“You need to have patience.”

“Dad’s funeral is Thursday at four,” I said, “And I’m going.”

“Whatever you want, Meredith, I’ll make that happen. You’ve just got to trust me.”

The car was silent.

“He has some swords pre-made for sale. I took the mission 4 months ago while you were in Kaunas,” He said, trying to convince me this was a relatively good idea.

“I’ll just steal something from one of the guards in Asgard and use that.”

I wasn’t sure why I didn’t think of that before.

“Hey, it’s my car,” He said, snapping.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. I needed this car to get to New Mexico. Where I’ll press the button on the beeper and give Thor the marionette serum and make him take me to Asgard. I’ll gain Thor’s trust, slip
away to whatever fancy lavish dungeon they’re keeping him in, stab him slowly, and somehow escape Asgard.

A little detour can’t hurt.

“Fine.”

The car was silent again.

“Does SHIELD know where you are?” I asked.

“Yep. At home, grieving,” He said casually. But then he switched up his tone when he said, “I mean, I am grieving. That’s what this whole thing is about.”

I picked at my fingers that were resting on the steering wheel.

“I’ll grieve later,” I said, not wanting to think about it too hard. I kept everything at the surface, scared that if I thought about the tiniest detail that I might not be able to rise.

“That’s why I’m helping, you know?” He relaxed in his seat, crossing his arms. “He was like a Dad to me. I hate that SHIELD didn’t take further action.”

“Yeah… they didn’t. And they put a bullet in my leg for taking action,” I gritted my teeth, glancing out the window.

“Take a left,” Ben said, making me remember that he was actually making me do this. I turned the car onto an open highway.

“Since I told you why I robbed the van, you need to tell me how you knew where I was,” I asked, shielding the midday sun from my eyes.

He was quiet, and didn’t say anything.

“You can’t keep it a secret anymore.”

“Maybe I’ve been sort of following you ever since you limped back to the parking garage,” He admitted, quietly.

Blinking and staring at the horizon, I took a few seconds to process.

“That’s so creepy…” I said, skin crawling at the thought of him tracking me through the woods.

“You’re breathing, aren’t you?” He asked, and I felt a wave of confusion and then…

Clarity.

“That was you?” I asked in disbelief.

The mysterious blast that saved me from getting in a head-on crash collision with the police barricade. I hadn’t even thought about that.

Or contemplated it, really. Because usually after you become that close to death, you become enlightened. I felt just as stupid as before.

“Wouldn’t be the first,” He said, gesturing to himself and giving a little smile.

I let out a sigh of relief, laughing a little.

“Well all of those times at least I knew who did it,” I yelled out the last part in aggravation. “I actually questioned whether or not I was actually alive for a while. I thought this was like, my journey to the afterlife or something.”

“It’s good to know you see me as your guardian angel,” He said, winking, but failing terribly, blinking both eyes.

“Ah, no. Actually-” I said, “I knew I was alive whenever you showed up. There’s no way you’re going to heaven.”

“Oh so you’re a comedian now? Rude,” He sulked.

“Near-Death experiences change people,” I informed, matter of factly.

“Yes but,” he turned to me, “They usually make them more somber.”

We each tore our eyes from each other's, turning to look out the window, watching the setting sun flicker through the trees.

“How do you know that I’m not?” I asked.

“I do.”

“You’re one to talk about being a comedian,” I said to him, his eyes not leaving the winding road. “And that just won’t work anymore.”

“These things aren’t just pranks, you know?” I muttered, reminded of the heavy weight on my chest that only started to show when I had to talk about serious things.
Even though I hated it, I knew I had to.

“I’m not a child Meredith,” His voice was sharp. The same tone I heard a few days ago when everything went so wrong, so quick.

“I know, I know, I know,” I emphasized, “We’re almost grown adults now. We can’t goof around like we did when we were 17. For the greater good it’s best that we shouldn’t.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll pretend to be a real-live adult.”

“You sure do live up to your very popular nickname, reassuring Ben,” I said flatly.

“I personally don’t like that nickname,” He said, “It doesn’t do me justice.”

“You don’t get to choose,” I answered. “And if you can choose a nickname for me, then I can choose one for you.”

After driving for about 19 Miles, we turned onto a winding road that was seemingly built for ghosts.

“You sure this is the right road?” I said, folding up the map, knowing we only had one more left to take.

“Oh yeah, there’s a small town down this way a few miles or so,” Ben said quietly, not meeting my eyes. He scratched his buzzcut, and looked surprised and shocked when he realized he had buzzed it a day or so before.

And in the same heartbeat I felt everything was going perfectly, it went very very wrong.

We felt a jolt as a loud cracking sound echoed through the woods, and the hissing of escaping air.

Ben let out a plethora of curses as the truck came to halt.

I stared in shocked silence as Willter got out of the truck. The past two days had just felt like a montage of failures. Some unseen force had to be behind this.

“Completely blown. I’m so sorry, Mere,” He confessed after hopping back in the truck.

“You better be.”

Chapter Text

Willter watched from the road as I took the essentials from my duffel bag and put them in Ben’s backpack for easier carry before I slammed his car door shut, falling off the hinges and onto the ground.

I ignored it, starting to walk down the road without Willter.

“Uh,-“ He started, staring at the car door, glancing at me, “Nevermind, it’s fine.”

“It’s only a few miles and we can make it there, maybe see if he has a vehicle we can borrow,” He blabbed, trying to atone for his sins as he followed behind me.

“Sounds perfect,” I said, not looking at him, clutching at my necklace that I’d almost forgotten I had on.

He knew it was probably time to shut up.

We walked, only accompanied by the sounds of crickets, birds and footsteps. And also Willter’s annoying breathing.

“Hey- Stop doing that,” Willter said, out of nowhere about 4 miles in.

“What?” I asked, stopping in my tracks.

“Your finger picking. You don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all planned out,” He kept walking.

I looked at my fingers, which were in fact a little bloody from picking at them.

“Oh come on, I had my own plan and it’s a perfectly fine plan,” I claimed, walking again, and he stopped to let me catch up.

“You know what they call you?” He said, and I knew exactly what he was about to say and it was not going to be said, for the sake of his well being.

“Dangerous,” I said, completely turning around, crossing my arms as I slid my tongue on the inside of my lip, “They call me dangerous. Scary. Intimidating. You seem to forget.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” He said, saving himself.

I enjoyed the few moments I had that Willter wasn’t talking in. But then that moment died.

“Want me to carry the bag for you?” He asked.

“Be my guest. This thing weighs a ton. What’d you put in it?” I asked, taking his orange NASA backpack off my shoulder and tossing it to him.

“Water. Snacks. First aid kit. Toothbrush,” Ben answered. "CDs"

“Okay, okay, fine, I get it, I didn’t ask for a list,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.

The road got darker as we carried on through the eerie woods, the sounds of the wind whispering through the trees, rustling the leaves in a way that made my head turn.

Every once and a while a car would pass by and roll down their window, asking us if we needed any assistance.

We’d thank them and refuse their offer, as per the threat of stranger danger. Which is a funny rule to follow as I am the stranger that kids are warned about.

Ben complained about not taking the rides we were offered, leading to me having to remind him that I was in fact, a criminal and I could be recognized.

“You could just beat them up,” Ben suggested.

“Why would I take advantage of someone being very generous? That’s mean,” I answered, not bothering to look at him.

Just straight ahead, I could see train tracks crossing the road, the caution lights shining in a passing car’s headlights.

“Do train tracks pass through this mysterious place you’re taking me?” I asked, pausing my steps as Ben heaved behind me.

“Yeah, ye-yeah they do, sorry give me a second-” Ben said, his hands on his knees, “It’s in an old town and the tracks pass right through it.”

“Guess those pilates lessons didn’t do much for you,” I laughed, crouching down next to him.

“Shhhhh-” He said, trying to hide his smile as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Spent too much time behind a desk and not in the field, perhaps?”, I taunted.

“I wonder why?” He laughed, “the first field mission I take in a month and I end up in the jungle with snakes and mud and… mud,” he said, stretching out his back with a grimace.

Ben originally joined SHIELD after taking a NASA internship at 16 and being “scouted” per-say for a Level 10 project that has something to do with space and satellites.

They put him in SHIELD academy and he decided to also take on a STRIKE course. Which is where he met me.

But here lately, he’s been spending a bit more time on the Level 10 project than in the field.

“So if we follow the tracks it’ll take us straight towards it, correct?” I asked, trying to stay on target, leaning down to try and get a glimpse of his face before he stood back up again, almost straight but still crouched.

“Uh-huh. But walk slower this time? I swear it’s like sprinting trying to keep up with you,” he complained.

“Maybe you should walk faster. C’mon,” I said before continuing on the road, not waiting on Willter any longer.

Eventually I heard his footsteps behind me, just as I reached the railroad.

“What if a train comes?” Ben asked as I tried balancing on the rail.

“Then we’ll get off of it,” I answered dryly, paired with a soulless smile that Ben didn’t do the courtesy of returning, “And maybe we can hop on it.”

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Ben said. “Now I kind of hope a train comes.”

A train horn went off in the distance, Ben’s face immediately lighting up with surprise as we scrambled off the tracks, Ben tripping on a rock, almost falling on the ground before catching himself.

“You’re getting your wish!” I yelled, laughing.

Our excitement wore off after a few seconds of waiting in complete silence.

“Where is it?” He whispered, bending to look around the trees.

“Just have patience, it’s coming. And when it does, find an open spot-” I said, getting cut off by a now louder horn, quickly approaching.

The tick tick tick off the train tracks got louder as I planted my feet, ready to jump on at the first chance, hoping Willter was ready too.

But for a split second hoped that he wasn’t.

Unfortunately, I still needed him to get me to this so-called blacksmith that got even sketchier the more I thought about it. So I decided not to.

I see the headlight from the front of the train illuminate the tracks as it finally came into view, roaring past us.

My hair blew in its wind, getting caught up in my mouth as I attempted to fish it out while still staying focused.

I caught a glimpse of a coil car with an open ledge on the front, perfect to stand on for a short distance.

The odds of finding one suitable to actually ride in were low, and this was the first chance that I saw, and I know better than to ignore it.

“Ben- the coil car!” I yelled, pointing it out as it quickly approached us.

Without thinking twice, I ran alongside the train, grabbing hold of the train car’s rail, swinging myself up and over, creeping towards the front as the train rushed down the tracks.

I searched for Ben, who was running alongside the car, slowly falling behind.

“Hand!” He yelled, outstretching his right arm as he struggled to keep up, hand on one of the metal rails.

This would’ve been the perfect chance to leave him. But I didn’t have time to plan it out just yet.

Because unfortunately, Ben had my bag that contained the beeper and the serum. And this whole operation was solely relying on those things.

Plus, I’m already this close to whoever Ben is taking me to get a sword. He also never told me exactly how to find him.

Grabbing hold of a metal bar to steady myself, I reached down to grab Ben’s hand, pulling him up onto the train, accidentally adding too much force.

He smacked the front of the car, falling onto the ledge as he flailed like a rag doll.

“You hesitated!” He yelled, slamming his fists on the ground as he pulled himself up to a kneel.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you’d fit,” I lied.

“Is that really the truth?” He asked as I leapt from the side onto the ledge, the horn blaring throughout the woods.

“ I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that it wasn’t the truth,” I said, looking at the fields to the right of the tracks.

“Well, I guess it was whenever you said that uh, fix you up and let you go on your way…?” He said, walking in front of me, trying to catch my gaze.

“Change is inevitable, isn’t it? Maybe this would be a good change,” I suggested, “it’s never too late to change, right?”

As sweet as it sounded, every word made my stomach turn.

Even though I wanted to get rid of Ben, it still felt wrong to lie to him. He’s still ruining his life by helping me. The least I could do is not lie to him.

I couldn't imagine leaving him would be easy. But it had to be done before he got too comfortable.

If I have to put myself through the pain of convincing myself that leaving him is going to be easy, then maybe it really won’t.

“Yeah. I guess it would be,” he said, sitting down on the ledge.

I sat next to him, the tracks clattering under us as I tried my best to seem casual.

There wasn’t much to say or do anymore. All we could do was ride in mutual silence, despite there being too much to say. It was the wrong time. But there would never be a right time at the rate we were at.

Instead of thinking about my petty little problems named Ben, I instead focused on everything that mattered now.

This whole rendezvous was on the count of serving the justice I need. Not about Ben.

So I shoved everything else out of my mind and thought about Dad instead.

The fields reminded me of our Summer trips to my Dad’s hometown in Wisconsin, minus the hundreds of different kinds of cheese I sampled each time we went, despite being lactose intolerant.

For a short, sweet time, I felt happy thinking about him. But I couldn’t let it last as long as Dad isn’t properly avenged.

Chapter Text

"Ow!" Ben yelped after I pulled him off the train with me after we tumbled to the ground together into the soft padded grass.

"Sorry," I said quietly as he heaved for air, and I realized I was probably a bit too heavy to be laying on top of him, especially after jumping from a train going about 45 miles an hour.

Which doesn't seem like a lot when you say it, but it feels like 85 when you jump from it.

"I think I hit my ankle on a rock..." He said, trying to pull himself from the ground.

"Nah, just my abs," I smiled, flexing casually as he looked up at me, unamused, holding his ankle.

"Not funny," he said, "I think I sprained it."

"I'm not carrying you, if that's what you want," I said, taking in our surroundings.

It looked like your typical nearly abandoned small town whose glory days have now been decades past, but you could still feel the faded grandeur in the warm air.

Weeds grew up through the cracks in the road, highlighted by the blinking streetlights. It was only about 2PM, but they were still all on throughout town, some of them not working at all.

The main strip had several graffiti painted vacant buildings, cars parked outside of them, their meters appearing to have been missing "mysteriously".

"It's not sprained. It just hurts. I'll be okay, I think," Ben said behind me, twisting his ankle cautiously, his eyebrows meeting in between his eyes.

"You'll be fine- at least you weren't shot," I joked.

"Ha, good thing. I'd hate to have to get cauterized! Sounds like it sucks," Ben said as he ran up beside me in a slight limp.

On the other side of the railroad tracks, the main road continued into the woods, the town completely residing on the opposite side of the tracks.

"Alright, where's this guy with the swords? If you're going to drag me all the way out here then I better actually get what I came for."

"Oh you will- this guy has tons of weapons. So many swords and spears,even cannons! He's a family business so he's pretty reliable," Ben said, hopping onto the crumbled sidewalk.

"I'm not seeing any places here that look like it could possibly be whatever you're describing," I said, looking around at all of the buildings, joining him on the sidewalk.

"That's the cool thing about it. It's hidden pretty well," He said, only one side of his lips curling up.

"Then how do you know about it?" I asked, tilting my head towards him.

"SHIELD thing. He was unknowingly supplying weapons to some wannabe terrorist group. We solved it by making him notify all of his sales to us."

"Cool. Okay. Question-" I asked, "If we buy this sword, SHIELD is gonna know. And come for us."

He gave me a mischievous smile as he dug in the pocket of his jacket. "Remember that ring that we claimed?"

"Never going to forget it," I said, giving him a disapproving look.

"I think it was simply fate playing its cards in our favor," He said, flashing the ring around, "With this ring...I trade it for the sword."

"A loophole?"

He shook his head, handing me the ring.

"But if I trade the ring, then I won't have enough money for... possibly important things," I reasoned, squeezing the ring in my palm.

"It'll probably be easier to steal those things than a sword from this guy. You don't want to mess with him or his works of art."

"His works of art?" I questioned.

"He's unhinged."

"Good to know," I said.

"There it is, looks like he's got lots of company. Good for him," Ben said, pointing out a brick building on the corner.

It looked to be the only place on the block I'd suspect it to not be on.

Cars were parked outside, loud chatter and music flowed out from it, and I could even see some strobe lights flashing on the inside.

"Benjamin, you're a comedian now," I said, "A dead one."

"That's how you know a comedian was funny...?" Ben suggested, avoiding eye contact.

"No, really, is this some kind of joke to you now? Do you really think I'm dumb enough to believe that this is where I'm gonna get a sword? A club?"

"It's not a club! I promise you I would never lead you astray at such a time as this!" He pleaded.

"Prove it," I said, "Take me to this guy, now."

He held open the door for me, my senses immediately going numb at the sight before me.

The shaking bass of the music, the smell of liquor and perfumes, flashing lights, and chatter of the people completely blinded me, sending me into panic.

"Hey- You alright?" Ben asked, grabbing my hand, pulling me out of my daze, looking directly into my eyes.

"I'm fine- just get me to this guy as soon as you can- please," I yelled over all the noise- that was beginning to mush together and become a ringing in my ears.

My only physical weakness was loud continuous noise. I hated it. It completely threw me off and discombobulated me to the point of all of my other senses being completely useless.

That's why whenever I partied during the academy- I put in earplugs that made the noise a little quieter.

Ben pulled me through the people, past the tables and alongside the dancefloor and straight to the bar.

He sat me down, putting his hands over my ears as he got the attention of the burly bartender. I hoped he wasn't ordering a drink- he could do that after I got the sword.

The bartender shook his head, serving someone their drink before whispering to another employee, who quickly left.

"You good?" Ben mouthed.

I shook my head before continuing to wait on this mystery man. Which got even more sketchier the more I thought about it.

But if Ben trusted him, then I did too.

We waited for about 5 minutes before the waiter came back, coming up behind Ben to whisper something in his ear.

Cautiously, I followed Ben through the crowd, his hand around my wrist as tipsy club goers bumped into me. I shoved them away a bit too harshly.

He led me down a hallway that was practically falling apart, the old yellowing floral wallpaper slowly ripping away to reveal the original wood.

As the noise from the party got quieter, I could finally take in my surroundings.

The building was quite old, built no later than 1890. It was probably the first building on the street, told by the lack of air conditioning and steel plated ceilings.

Ben jiggled a brass knob on a door with painted art deco accents along the corners, the metal clanking before it fell out of the hole and onto his toe.

"Ow," Ben said quietly, loudly inhaling.

I picked up the knob, the door slowly swinging open as Ben took deep and exaggerated breaths behind me.

Peering inside, I spotted a clawed foot bathtub, a sink, and a toilet. All in a matching shade of light blue.

"Wrong room-" I muttered, handing the door knob to him, turning to walk away.

"Nope- it's the right one," he said, his voice strained, putting the knob back into the hole before I followed him into the bathroom.

Ben closed the door behind us, the noise from the party now almost completely muffled. All I could hear was the slight boom of the base and light chatter.

"I'm really sorry about the party, I had no idea that they were going to be busy tonight, if I'd known I would've brought earplugs or something," Ben apologized.

"It's fine. Are you going to explain why we're in the bathroom now?" I asked, checking myself out in the mirror.

Ben looked over at me in the mirror, a slight smile on his face before looking at himself, then he grimaced. "Sheesh, buzzcut."

"It suits you," I smile, grabbing his gaze in his reflection. "Now enough. Spill."

"In the 1920s, before prohibition, this place used to be a bar slash hotel. They advertised themselves as just a hotel after the bar was shut down, but they still had their ways of pleasing the people," he said, opening up the door to the linen closet.

Inside were, of course, linens.

"Ah yes, the linens," I said, placing my hands on my hips, "that was my first thought."

"Whatever your second thought is, you're right. Or wrong," Ben said, shutting the door and feeling around the door casing, pulling at it, "I don't know."

A cloud of dust puffed from the edges of the casing as Ben pried it open, revealing a small hallway that only went about 3 feet before branching off to the right.

"I have no second thoughts about linens, so it wasn't right or wrong," I said, leaning against the casing.

I could barely see candlelight bounce from the walls, meaning that someone was just down there to light them. And that someone was waiting for us.

It looked like something from a haunted Vampire mansion- modern Edgar Alan Poe prose in a scarlet blood air that smelled like straight whiskey and gunpowder- an interesting combination.

My interest for what waited didn't pique over the hill of my fear.

"Are you scared?" Ben asked, looking at me as I hesitated to take the first step in.

"Yes," I admitted, scoffing, "But there's a difference between scared and cowardly. I'm no coward."

"Hm, like that quote in your bedroom that you love so much... what was it? "courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyways?"," he quoted, making me scoff.

"Exactly," I said, turning to face him.

"Well, you got a foot in the Sturrup, cowgirl?" He scratched his jawline, putting on a fake country accent, looking behind us at the door.

"Do you, cowboy?" I asked, and started my way in.
Looking back, I noticed he was licking his lips, with his legs a little wobbly.

He noticed I was watching him.

I stopped, waiting for him to catch up. "Let's giddyup partner."

"Are you just going to keep talking to me like that?"

"You mentioned the cowboy quote, not me."

"I can't say anything around you." He said, and immediately after we heard footsteps coming down the hallway, sending us both running into the dark room, shutting the door before we rushed down the steps, misstepping a dangerous amount of times.

I may have audibly gasped when I saw the room.

Ben wasn't lying- this was for sure an old speakeasy. But it was so perfectly preserved. Right down from the bricks on the wall, to the classy art-deco chandelier that hung from the ceiling, to the intricate black and white porcelain tiles on the floor.

Besides all of the beautiful architecture, there was one thing that thrilled me the most.

Bows, arrows, antique guns, armor, roman chest plates, cannons, decorated the walls, as if they were fine works of art. And most importantly, there were swords, of all shapes, sizes, styles, and colors, right above the bar, covering almost every square inch.

I had hit the jackpot.

Ben must've seen my expression of delight, saying, "See what happens when you trust people?" as he nudged my arm.

After taking in everything as much as I possibly could in the short time I gave myself, I finally saw the man behind the bar, polishing a helmet.

He stood at my height, which was considerably tall. His cheeks were hollow and his hair was gray, down to his shoulders, its color suggesting it used to be blonde. He also had a stringy beard that was separated into three pony-tails.

My gaze met his and I was taken aback by how light they were.

The Man's blue eyes were reminiscent of a crystal in the light of day.

But his most memorable trait was his facial tattoos.

He had intricate designs on his visible cheeks, and all across his forehead. They were kinda beautiful. But they also looked so familiar. Like I'd seen them somewhere.

"Benedict?" He asked, with a voice like molten ash.

"Yes sir," Ben replied, and grabbed my arm. "This... is Meredith."

The Old Man's eyes went wide, lips slightly parted as he looked me up and down, making me shift my weight. He stared at me as if I were a bomb made of gold.

"We need a sword." Ben said, grabbing his attention back.

The Old Man smiled, revealing a shiny set of golden teeth. "Well, you've seemed to have come to the right place, now haven't you?"

Chapter Text

"Non ducor, duco," I said, reading the inscription on one one the swords, "I am not led, I lead."

"You speak Latin?" The gruff old man, who had introduced himself as Jonathan Walker, asked.

"I do. And this is amazing," I said, walking over and grazing my hands across a sword that was just within my reach with the most intricate silver handle I'd ever seen, "You're very talented, Mr. Walker."

I wondered if the engagement ring would even be enough to trade for it, as all swords here looked incredibly well-made, down to the very last detail.

"You know- I'm not allowed to sell these without notifying SHIELD. And thanks to channel 4, I have a hunch you may not want to have to pay in paper money, is that right?" He asked, adjusting the helmet he was previously polishing back on the shelf- that most likely used to store the liquor.

It didn't completely shock me that the news was now blaring my business. "Whatever the news is telling you, it's probably not the truth. Or maybe it is and they just don't like it, and they want you to not like it too. I'd like to trust you, but I'm afraid I can't if you don't make your stance on me very clear."

"The News has only said that you tried to rob an official government vehicle and resisted the police," He said, "It's none of my business why."

"And they didn't explain why I'm doing it?" I asked, taking a seat at the bar while Ben wandered around.

"Not a single word, and I'm sure you're unwilling to share," He said, polishing a faded brass bell that was attached to the wall, the roman numerals on it translating to MCDXCII.

"It's actually completely the opposite. I'd like everyone to know exactly what I'm doing and why I'm doing it and who I'm going to be doing it to."

"That sounds like revenge," he smiled, picking up an old-timey gas mask from the shelf behind him to dust under it.

"Avengement, actually," I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing one leg over the other while Ben sat down next to me, "Loki- that guy that took over New York? Yeah you know him. He killed my Dad. Now I kill him. It's so simple, it's practically facts."

"My condolences. Do you think that if people knew this that they'd take it a bit easier on you?" He asked, throwing the cloth over his shoulder.

"No, they know. But if the public knew? 100%. They're dumb enough to root for me," I said.

He leaned up against the wall behind the bar, crossing his ankles. "Do you think what you're doing is dumb?"

"Not quite sure yet," I laughed, "But if this is dumb, I never want to be smart. Capisce?"

"Capisce. I like your attitude. You're worthy of being the first woman I've ever supplied a sword to, and it'll be my honor."

"Hopefully my payment will be enough," I said, reaching into my pocket for the ring, placing it on the wooden countertop.

"I want your necklace." He said, ignoring the ring I'd just set down, his eyes glued to the chain hanging around my neck.

Absolutely not.

"What, you don't like the color green?" I spat, clutching my necklace as I stood up from the bar stool, almost knocking it to the ground.

"Yeah, that's off limits, dude," Ben stepped in, placing his forearm in front of me to attempt to prevent me from leaping over the counter and taking a swing at him for his impertinence.

"You want this sword to avenge your dad, just as you said just a few sentences ago. You seem very driven."

Blinking, I stared back at him, wondering where he was going with this.

"If you know your Dad wants this, and if you know you want this, then you'll be sure that this is the right way to go. And if you're sure and committed, then you shouldn't second guess it."

"I'd rather give Loki a peaceful death than give you my necklace. And also-" I said, raising my voice a little louder, "why does it matter to you how committed I am?"

"She didn't take a bullet in the leg and walk tens of miles just to have to give up her necklace. Don't talk to her about committing," Ben said, defending me.

He was right.

This was right. And if I wasn't completely sure, I wouldn't have come this far.

"I don't sell swords to sellouts, sweetheart," Mr. Walker said, placing his hands on the bar and leaning towards me, "And I also don't sell them to failures. Which is what you'll be if you don't fully commit. Do you think your Dad will be proud of you if you never do?"

Looking him dead in the eye, I unclasped my necklace.

I've come this far, why not go a few more miles?

For the last time, I cranked the key, making it sing a little tune. I fought off tears, blurring my last sight of my precious necklace.

This was a sacrifice.

More than a bullet, more than a few miles walked or glass in my skin.

This time, it hurt my heart.

But it ensured Loki would hurt even more. And then not at all.

The old man's shriveled hands carefully took the necklace from my hand, sticking it into his pocket carefully. He turned and carefully picked a sword from the wall.

He held it flatly with two hands, placing it in mine.
It was a pretty regular looking sword, except for the silver hilt.

A special detail took my breath away, and as soon as I noticed it, my heart leaped and skipped a beat.

In the pommel, the continents of the world were so thoughtfully carved, making it resemble a globe. Just like my necklace.

I was completely speechless.

"This is great." I said, spinning it and tossing it over my back, sharply snatching it back. It was perfectly balanced and fit well in my hand, as if it were made for me.

Ben stepped back a few steps, making sure that he didn't accidently get a limb chopped off. That would really put a damper on the day.

"I guess we'll be on our way now?" Ben said, placing an arm on my shoulder, "We've kinda got somewhere to be."

"Not until I get you something to carry your sword in, can't just stick it through your belt, it'll be a pain to see," Mr.Walker said, bending down under the counter and rustling through the cabinets.

Taking in the scenery of the place one last time before I had to leave, I took it all in and tried to memorize it to save for a rainy day.

The red velvet drapes that partially cover the wall of the entrance, the cracked black and white tile floors, oak tables and chairs.

"Here we are. Just like a backpack," Mr.Walker said, sliding me a mess of dark leather straps.

I thanked him, slipping my arms through the straps, tightening it while Mr.Walker slipped the sword in the back.

"Looks good, Star," Ben said from across the room, hands on his hips as he smiled proudly, making me share one of my own. But his was something special.

My heart skipped a beat as I tried to take my eyes away from him. resuming my thoughts to the room that I couldn't get enough of.

Glancing up, I noticed that something in Latin had been written on the ceiling, circling the base of the chandelier in paint that was slowly chipping away, causing me to squint to attempt to read it.

Willter was talking to Mr. Walker, but I couldn't hear a word of what he said after I finally translated the writings in my head.

Looking away as fast as I could, I realized it was too late, and the man had noticed that I had seen it.

I looked away, heart beating out of my chest and up to my ears, pretending to stare at something on the wall, as if I didn't see anything.

But I definitely did, and I could hear it echoing over and over in my head, the phrase written over and over again. Burned into my memory and aching on my conscience.

Cut off one head, two more shall grow in its place.

My head spun, trying to think of any thought I could to try and make myself seem unfazed by the writings. Like I didn't understand it.

The only other thought I had was that I couldn't leave my locket with him. I wasn't leaving without a fight, even if it means losing the sword as well.
How could I be so foolish in the first place to hand it over?

Ben was blissfully unaware of the pure chaos that was stirring in my head, gazing around in wonder just as I had been a few moments earlier, picking up a gladiator helmet and sticking it on his head.

I suddenly felt a pair of watchful eyes on me.

"You alright?" Walker asked from behind the counter.

I pulled Ben's shoulder to get him closer to me, and he tripped over his ankles, looking up at me with confusion.

"No. I want my necklace back. You can take the sword back. Deals off," I said, picking at my thumb vigorously.

"Wha...-?" Ben started, his head darting between me and Walker.

How could I be so stupid?

Tapping Ben's shoulder twice, I gave our secret signal for "run."

"You can't leave." The man said, and I whipped around to meet his eyes, which were furrowed. His arms held up a gun, pointed right at me and Ben.

"Oh I'm not leaving." I said, "not without what's mine."

He chuckled, "It's not yours anymore."

I lunged at him over the counter and a gunshot rang out.

Swinging at his right arm, he used the barrel of his gun to block me, a shrill clink ringing throughout the room.

"Ben! The necklace!" I yelled, and Ben stood there like an idiot, staring at me pushing my sword against the man.

"Who are you?" I demanded as I pushed further.

The old man kicked my knee, and a sharp pain sent up my leg, crumbling under him.

Pointing his gun and Ben, who was looking for the locket by crawling around on the floor.

Picking myself up from the ground, I kicked the gun from his hands, catching it and aiming it back at him.

"Go ahead and say your little hail hydra prayer, because if you don't tell me where my locket is I will kill you, right here," I said, gun to his head.

He smirked, a silver tooth sparkling in the light, "Hail hydra."

I pulled the trigger, but instead of the ring of a gunshot, I heard a click.

And before I knew it, I was punched straight in the jaw, stars appearing before my eyes as my head whirled from the impact.

"It's so sad to see everyone upstairs die just because of your fancy latin literacy, isn't it?" He said, strapping an old-timey gas mask over his face, "It's a good thing I'm prepared for people like you. This place has been rigged with mustard gas for years. I'm always looking for a chance to use it. I've only gotten to it a few times before."

"Here's a tip-" I said, trying to push my jaw back into place, "keep your big mouth shut. You can't go around telling people what you're gonna do. Especially not someone like me. Who is gonna stop you. As soon as I..."

My vision was blurred from the punch, colors flashing before my eyes as I stood up, only to be kicked right back down with a kick to the chest.

He pulled the string of the bell, the one he was polishing earlier, "Tell your Daddy I said-"

A large whump cut him off.

Walker had a blank empty stare, slowly falling towards me. I rolled out of the way just before he hit the ground, revealing Ben standing right behind him, a cannonball in his hand, and a look of shock written in his eyes. "Meredith, we need to go," Ben said, dropping the cannonball on the floor, causing it to crack, and pulling me up from the ground.

I spat blood onto the floor, pulling away from him.
"Where's my locket?" I slurred, sword clutched lightly, practically dragging through the air.

"We have to leave it, I'm sorry," Ben said frantically, "He's got this place rigged, fortunately we've still got time to save the people upstairs."

"No, please, Ben, it's probably in his pockets," I said, and Ben ran over to his unconscious body, digging through his clothes, taking off his gas mask in the process.

I got up and looked through his pockets too, not finding anything.

"Come on Meredith, it isn't worth your life," Ben said, grabbing my arm, attaching the mask to his belt, "it isn't worth the people upstairs' life either."

Pulling away, I continued rustling through his pockets.

"Let's GO." He said loudly. "Sacrifice, Meredith."

I quickly stood up, giving up on finding the necklace, realizing the more important things at stake.

"The bell probably has a timer on it for him to get out, right?" I asked, putting my new sword back in the holster, not waiting on an answer, "The place is locked down, we'll need something to break through the doors."

I glanced around, my eyes setting on the 18th century ship cannon that sat pretty and shiny on the wall, the kind that rolled easy.

"I'll haul the cannon and the cannonball, you find some gunpower," I said, the cannon already in my arms, loading the cannon ball into the barrel, wasting no time explaining the plan.

"You got it," He said, offering the gas mask to me.

"Wear it. You'll probably be more sensitive to the gas than me," I said, hauling the cannon out the exit.

I carried it through the hallway as fast as I could, hearing the rambunctiousness of the club-goers.

Because despite what Ben says- this is still a club.

As suspected, everything was boarded up. Except the top windows. If we can just ventilate the area, that could be enough to subdue the gas. No one noticed that the place was locked in, though it would be a little hard to notice.

I had a plan.

The karaoke stage featured a couple doing a duet, singing their hearts out to each other as they gazed in their lover's eyes, completely lost in the song, before I had to go and ruin it by telling them that they're about to die.

I snatched the microphone out of the man's hand, tempted to sing the warning to the tune of the song.

"This may not make much sense- but I need you all to cover your heads and try not to breathe so much, there's been a gas leak and, well, it's an attack. We're locked in. But don't worry, I've got it under control. Ben, sing to them," I said, pulling Ben onto the stage just as he ran out of the hallway and taking the gunpowder from him.

"Everyone- get under a table or in the hallway!" Ben yelled, causing mass panic as they caught sight of his creepy gas mask that was half-heartedly thrown on his head.

I took the cannonball from the cannon, trying not to get trampled, hauling it to the bar, standing on top of it, and aiming for the beautiful glass ceiling.

Although it was a shame to have to throw the cannonball through it, it was for the greater good.

I crouched down- my arms on top of my head as I braced for the glass to break.

About 4/7ths of the glass broke- enough to keep air flowing in and from poisoning everyone as I searched for a way to get them out and to complete safety.

The cannon ball fell back down through the glass and landed right on a wooden table, breaking it in half with a crack as it landed.

I dragged the cannon towards the door, yelling at Ben over the cheesy karaoke backing track to come and help me use it as a battering ram.

But I quickly realized this was a one woman job as he heaved a little too hard when he went to pick it up. His strengths have always been in other places.

Swinging it into the door, metal clanked on the other side.

"Why don't we call the police?!" Ben yelled.

"Criminals don't call the police, Benjamin!" I said, swinging the cannon into the door a second time, feeling some progress.

Even with the ventilation in the roof, I knew it wasn't enough to keep everyone safe for a long period of time- depending on how long it's rigged to gas.

"Alright Ben, go find a lighter," I sighed, placing the cannon on the ground.

Chapter Text

Ben ran off to find a lighter before I could even finish my sentence.

While he was looking for a lighter, I put the gunpowder into the cannon using the bobby pin I always kept in my hair, just for times like these.

"You need to swab it," Ben said from behind me after I carefully put the gunpowder in it.

"What?" I asked, looking up at Ben, who was watching with a grimace.

"Can you break that wooden barstool for me, please?" He asked, using his thumb to point to a barstool.

"Whatever you say," I said, casually, picking up the barstool and ripping one of its legs off, business as usual.

Ben snatched the leg from me. "Now rip apart the cushiony part in palm sized squares...please."

"Do you really need me to?" I asked, tilted my head as he stuck the leg into the cannon.

"Do you want all these people to die?" He said, using over-exaggerated head tilts to make his point.

Convicted, I pulled the cushion apart, ripping it to palm sized squares, just as he asked me too, but with a little bit of attitude.

I wasn't used to him bossing me around, but I suppose now really isn't the time to whine about it. He seemed to know a lot more about loading cannons than I did.

"Now take off your shoe-laces," He said, pointing to my shoes.

"Oh my- seriously?!" I yelled.

"Yes! Take them off - now! Trust me, please! I know how to load these cannons!" He begged, yelling over the panicked people that were lodged tightly into the hallway.

"Fine!" I yelled, quickly ripping the shoelaces out of my shoe and handing it to Ben. It may seem strange to trust that someone in 2012 would have so much knowledge on loading 18th century canons, but with Ben, it's rather expected.

Using my shoe lace, he tied the cushion to the severed leg of the stool as I tried to console the people, assuring them that he knew what he was doing and that we were professionals. They didn't seem convinced after the show we just put on.

"It's ready!" Ben said, stepping back as if he had just created a masterpiece.

"Thank goodness!" I sighed, relieved, snatching the lighter from Ben.

"Everyone, take cover!" I yelled, lighting the cannon and bracing myself for impact as I waited for it to free us.

A loud bang rang from the canon, sending it barreling through the steel reinforced door, the sound of it breaking the lock mixed with the screams of the civilians, making me wince.

Getting up from my crouched position, I saw the doors were now blown open, the people finally free to go.

Suddenly, the screams started back again, and began to sound a bit more intense than they were before. Screams of true terror.

Whipping around, I saw Mr. Walker standing in front of the civilians that had been crowded in the hallway, holding Ben hostage- a gun to his head.

"Let him go or I swear I will sever each and every one of your limbs, cut you open, pull out your intestines, and use them to floss your teeth before I pull them from your head. And light you on fire," I threaten, a little surprised at myself and the way the words seemed to erupt from my mouth on impulse.

"And scalp you," Ben said, struggling in the headlock he was in, pulling at his arm.

"Yeah- and scalp you," I said, fetching the sword from my back, "Put him down."

"That sword doesn't belong to you," Walker spat, kicking Ben to keep him from squirming around.

"I think I'll survive stealing something from a nazi," I said, equally, if not more amounts of venom injected into my words.

"It's your own fault for sticking your nose in places you don't belong," he said.

"I belong everywhere that criminals are, with the full intent of making sure justice is served," I said, "let him go."

"I'll let him go if you give back my sword," He demanded.

"I'll give you back the sword if you give me back my necklace," I countered, keeping my sword drawn, ready to strike.

"These would all work out fine, except, you know my secret, and I can't let either of you live to tell the tale," He said.

"Okay, go ahead, kill him, I don't care," I shrugged, dropping the sword to the ground, putting my hands on my hips.

"Huh?!" Ben yelled, his eyebrows almost flying off of his head.

"You drive me bananas," I said.
Ben immediately understood me when I said that, as it was one of our code words we used while on missions, during times just like this whenever we couldn't communicate exactly what we needed.
His eyes lit up with understanding, knowing the plan exactly with just a simple word.

The room erupted into chaos as Ben used his right arm to punch the gun from Walker's hand, outstretching his left leg in a way that seemed oddly familiar at the moment, but I couldn't quite think about it long enough before I hit the ground, picking the sword up from the ground as Ben threw Walker up and over him in a technique he'd picked up from SHIELD.

He scrambled to grab the gun that was now on the floor, trying to escape from a big burly man that had now recovered and was quickly advancing on him.

I kicked Walker away from Ben with all the force I could muster, sending him halfway across the room, the people yelling out in fear.

"Please stop yelling-I've got this under control!" I yelled, tired of their screams that discombobulated me each time as Walker dusted himself off and began to stomp towards me.

I hoped he didn't have too much fighting experience.
Not wasting my time, I threw the first punch straight to his jaw, instantly making him stumble around like the building was shaking.

Usually when fighting people, even enemies, I'd hold back a little bit. It just felt wrong to use unnecessary full force on them. But not this time. This time I gave him all I had.

No one threatens my Ben Willter and walks away from it.

He tried to get back up and throw another punch, but I deflected it before he even knew I did, effectively snapping his wrist back and dislocating his shoulder.

I pushed him to the ground, watching the burly strong man helplessly writhe in pain.

Ben found the gun, and was now pointing it at Walker, who was on the ground, seemingly and clearly close to fainting.

"Can someone call the police?" I asked, not looking away from him.

"Are you sure?" Ben asked.

"I'm sure," I answered, nodding my head to give him extra assurance.

Someone called the police while Ben and I tied the man up with someone's belt, which tragically looked very expensive.

I scanned the crowd for injuries, readying the first aid kit that Ben had in his backpack, but it seemed the only injuries were that someone's foot got stepped on, or they got some glass in their skin.

Which was pretty good, considering how absolutely trashed the place looked.

We didn't have much time until the police came, we also didn't have a ride to escape.

So as soon as we heard the sirens, we bid our farewells and we ditched.

And stole Walker's car.

Chapter Text

"Well, that was... unexpected," Ben said as we drove away from the scene.

"I don't want to talk about it. At all," I said, clenching my hand around the steering wheel while Ben lounged in the back seat, snooping through his things.

"Why not?" Ben asked, studying a receipt he found under the seat, chewing on gum he found in the center console that I warned him against eating.

"Because that's just going to lead to another argument, and I don't want to right now," I said, peering at him through the rearview mirror.

"Okay, yes, I get it, it was pretty awful that I brought you to a Nazi that stole your necklace. I didn't know. No one spoke Latin in my group. But," Ben said, only making me angrier the more I thought about it, "at least we caught him! That's pretty wicked cool."

"Yeah yeah..." I said, half-heartedly agreeing with him. I'll go back and get my necklace someday.

"So... were you really going to floss his teeth with his intestines?" Ben asked after a bout of silence.

"...Why are you asking?" I said, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"Oh, you know, just asking..." Ben said, hopping into the passenger seat.

"No. I was exaggerating, but I still beat him up kinda bad," I admitted. "He threatened my friend, and that is not cool."

Ben was quiet, staring out the window at the sunset peeking out from behind the tall North Carolina trees, orange and pink splattered across the sky, almost perfect for a painting.

"Remember when we painted sunsets with Philly for her birthday?" Ben asked, a big smile on his face.

"I remember that. Yours was ugly and we got to vandalize it. Why?" I replied, leaning my seat back.

"Oh, just saying... and then we got to eat spaghetti. And Selah made the strawberry cake? And then the hot little caesar pizza came at 2am? And I ate the last piece you were saving?" He asked.

I knew exactly what he was doing. He was hungry but too afraid to ask to stop somewhere, so he wanted to make it seem like it was my idea by making me hungry.

"What do you want to eat, Willter?" I sighed, my head slightly bowing in defeat.

"... I didn't say I wanted to eat anywhere. Are you sure you aren't hungry? Because I didn't say anything about eating. You're so hungry you've gone delu-"

I tore off the highway, onto the nearest exit I possibly could, the car almost tipping over as Ben let out a slight yelp, bumping his head on the window.

He silently put on his seatbelt as he rubbed his head, carefully avoiding eye contact as the seatbelt clicked into place.

I pulled into a diner, grabbing some money out of Ben's backpack and stuffing it into my pocket.
"Let's make this quick," I said, hopping out of the car.

He shortly followed, opening up the door to the diner for me.

The smell of cigarette smoke and bacon grease filled my senses, the waitress greeting us with a smile.

A badly-designed sign with watermarks on its graphics instructed us to seat ourselves, so we found a corner booth right across from the jukebox and under a light switch that probably hadn't been cleaned since the day it opened. And by the state of the place in general, I'd have to guess 80 years ago.

"What can I get y'all?" She asked, flipping open a notepad with her blue nails, her gaze lingering on mine, then to Willter's.

"I'd love a glass of chocol-"

"Can I get a big plate of macaroni and cheese? And then... I don't know, 10 chicken tenders?"

Willter looked at me across the booth with a highly raised eyebrow.

"And chocolate milk?" She turned back to Ben, pen raised just above the paper.

"Yes, please." He said, looking away from me for only a second before turning back to me.

I was allergic to chocolate, and he always loved to try and get under my skin by always having some form of it. Obviously, I didn't care, because I've never tasted chocolate, but I think it's funny that he assumes he can really bother me.

"Alright, coming right up." She winked at Willter, and a ring went off throughout the diner.

Avoiding Willter's judgmental gaze, I watch as she sauntered away to the kitchen to give the chefs our order.

"Interesting."

"Ben Willter I swear- just let me eat in peace. I just want macaroni and cheese. Like, really bad."

"I would let you eat anything else in peace. But I can't be at peace knowing you won't be in the long run."

"It doesn't effect you, now does it?" I said, lifting a menu to cover my face as I pretended to study the suspiciously priced items.

Trusting 1.44 for a stack of three pancakes would be foolish.

"It kind of does. Because I care about you," He insisted, reaching across the table and using a single finger to push the menu slightly down, only revealing my eyes.

"That's it?"

"That's it. I can't let you go and ruin yourself just for some temporary joy."

"Temporary is better than none. Now would you stop acting like my Dad and get a grip? It won't kill me to enjoy some macaroni and cheese."

Ben gave me a blank stare from the other side of the booth, crossing his arms with a sigh.

A biker gang of about ten men walked into the diner, unsettlingly quiet. They all looked gruff and angry, but were all trying to control themselves.

We became very interested in our menus as the only sound in the whole diner filled the silence, somehow making the unassumed tension more and more stronger.

But then, the Waitress happily greeted one of the bikers.

"Hey there Tommy! You want your regular?" She asked, and I noticed Willter slump a bit in his seat.

We listened in further.

"Yes ma'am, but this time, add some orange juice instead of Coffee. Doc says it's bad for my heart."

"Well she's right." The waitress said as she brought over a glass of chocolate milk to Ben.

I watched as Ben slurped down the 8 ounces of iced chocolate milk. Staring him down, he stopped smiling and pushed his glass to the side, and glanced over to the jukebox.

Some biker had walked up to it a few minutes ago and started playing a death metal song that made me wince at every note.

"Do you think it has Earth Angel?" He asked.

I shook my head. "If it does, we can't play it. We don't want to bring attention to ourselves."

"Ah, you're no fun." He said, drinking his chocolate milk again.

"I have loads of fun all the time." I said, my face telling a different story.

"No, not anymore. Not since Barrow."

"No, what about Philly's birthday party?" I mentioned, and shifted to a criss-cross position.

"All you did was play monopoly for 3 hours straight and sang Umbrella off key on the karaoke machine," Ben said, "I'm still waiting for the cover to be professionally recorded, by the way."

"So was that not fun?"

"No, not fun enough," he said, slightly shaking his head.

"You're only saying that because we were fighting then, so it may not have been fun then for you, but I had so much fun."

"Well we aren't fighting now, so maybe you should prove it."

"We aren't fighting?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, eyebrows knitted between my nose.

"Not at this exact moment, no," he said, "so we should seize the moment. Carpe dietem."

"It's carpe diem. And that's not even right. That means seize the day. It would be carpe momentum."

"It kinda sounds like you just made that up."

"Dude," I said, defeated, shrugging my shoulders.

"Do you want to dance or not?" He said, interrupting my annoyed state and replacing it with one that I wasn't quite sure of.

My eyebrows lifted from their downwards position, the corners of my mouth peeking up.

"Nothing to prove. Just a dance."

With the way he said it, I could've sworn we were about to jump off a cliff into rocky waters, but it'd be the greatest fun we've ever had.

It wasn't too far from the truth; which was that dancing would draw attention, possibly from someone who's seen my face on the news. And then I wouldn't be able to eat my macaroni and cheese.

"Ask the waitress." I suggested, trying to replicate a genuine tone, but I think I failed. And Ben knew it.
Ben slid out of the booth, "Okay then."

"Wait." I said, and Ben just smiled at me.

Thinking he was walking over to the waitress, he instead walked to the jukebox and looked through the catalog. I watched as an amused expression crossed his face and I heard a tune float through the air.

I was immediately transported to a Harvard town. A port on a western bay.

Ben knew exactly what he was doing.

We had danced to this song more than 20 times while we were at the academy. In the car, studying, singing it to each other using our pens.

I'm not sure how it started, but it had just become a staple in our friendship.

So even though it might've been incredibly manipulative, I got up slowly.

He waltzed over to me, offering out his hand to help me out of the booth.

Grabbing his hand, I avoided eye contact. In contrast to his smirk, I gave a scowl.

"You're so immature," I teased.

"Oh, but I could've sworn you said that was reliable?" He asked, grabbing my waist and swaying me to the music.

Even though I knew this was reckless and that I didn't have any feelings for Willter, I still felt happy.

Every time we danced, I found myself lost in the rhythm. We weren't dancers, by any means, but when we danced together, you'd think we'd practiced hours on hours.

Maybe it was the way that his thumb grazed my hand, or the way that he never broke eye contact.

Except for whenever I looked down at our feet.
He was always on his tiptoes. And as much as I'd tease him about it, he'd always tell me that it was to look into my eyes.

We were in a diner, bruised and broken, tired and dirty, the jukebox playing a scratchy old tune, but I could've sworn that we were in a ballroom, our skin never scarred, our eyes only having seen the most beautiful things, and our hands only ever used to hold each other.

I felt his bandaged hand grip my waist as we swayed to the music, chuckling to ourselves as we relived all of the now bitter-sweet memories.

And I didn't even worry about anyone watching.
"What a good wife you would be," I sang after he twirled me around, my dirty boots spinning on the greasy floor, making me lose my balance just a little bit. Ben steadied me, catching my waist just as I was about to fall.

He laughed as the song faded out, bringing us back to reality.

We were met with the confused glances of the bikers, and another wide smile from the toothy waitress, which looked a little more uncomfortable than it did before.

Our table now held a bowl of macaroni and cheese, ten steaming chicken tenders, French fries, and refilled glasses of chocolate milk and water.

"See? We didn't get shot down instantly. It's okay, Meredith." He assured me as he took a French fry off the plate.

I dug into my macaroni, the cheese melting perfectly on my tongue. It wasn't the best macaroni and cheese ever, but it was enough to satisfy my cravings.

"Pass the ketchup?" Ben asked, dusting off his chicken tender fingers as I finished off my fourth one.

"Sure," I said, reaching behind me to snatch the red ketchup bottle from the vacant table behind me, the TV above the kitchen hatchet rambling off day-to-day news.

The TV caught my attention as I looked up to glance at it while my back was turned, reaching for the bottle.

A blonde woman rambled off day-to-day news, and then switched to another story.

"And also at 11, a still unknown woman is still presumed dead after a body was found in the woods. Experts are unsure whether or not it's the woman that tried to rob the government vehicle just Yesterday, but for the meantime, keep your eyes open."

A male presenter spoke up. "And we've gotten the impression that if it isn't the perpetrator's body, it could possibly be one of her victims."

"The police still haven't released her identity, so we are still on standby for that information."

Shock rippled through my body, all my muscles tensing, my fist clenching around the ketchup bottle, squirting the contents onto my face.

My mind gave me the view of all the eyeballs on me in that instant.

The TV rambled off my description. "20, Brown curly hair, pale skin, brown eyes, 5,11, and 165 pounds."

A picture of me flashed on screen, with a big SHIELD watermark.

Sick.

And I could forget "No one will notice." Because they all got a good look at me while I was swaying like an idiot. What kind of a person dances to Looking Glass while being hunted by everyone in Carolina?

It would've been me if it weren't Willter.

I scrambled for a napkin to wipe the ketchup off my forehead, trying not to look too stressed.

"Here," Ben said, wiping the ketchup off my forehead with a napkin, his face concentrated.

"I can do it myself," I said, snatching the napkin from him and rubbing it away myself.

Closing my eyes, I blocked out the view of a very worried Ben.

My mind was made. It was clear that we were done now. He did what he said he would. Fix me up and send me on my way. I needed to leave him behind so I could get this done without distractions.

Putting money on the table, I quietly slid out of my seat, not looking back.

I was almost at the door when a burly, tall, biker with short brown hair stood right in front of me. I prepared myself to throw down again.

I really didn't want to anymore. I didn't want to have to hurt people when it was unnecessary.

"You've got to stay here." He said, voice trembling.
Truely, I have to admit, I admired his bravery. It probably wasn't easy to stand up to someone who's wanted for taking on a whole squad of highly trained government agents.

"This is a free country," I glanced at his nametag, "Daniel. I can go wherever I please."

A bead of sweat rolling down his forehead glistened in the light.

Our toothy waitress had a terrified expression on her face, her knuckles turning white as she gripped a kitchen knife behind the counter.

"That was you on the TV, wasn't it?" He answered, looking up at me ever so slightly.

"Can't be. I'm 6'2. 195. Obviously." I laughed, looking around. "Let me go, alright? I really don't want to hurt anyone here, but I've got a thing going on and it's really important to me."

"What thing, devil worship?" a man with a long dutch beard asked, joining his friend in barricading the door.

"I bet it's nice living relatively okay lives. Is it?" I asked, making him flinch by simply setting my hand on his shoulder.

"We can't really say yes because everyone has their own pain in their life," He resonated, wiping his forehead.

I heard sirens in the distance, and I looked over at Willter, who was still at the booth.

His nostrils flared three times, signaling he had a plan. All of a plan.

Even though I still didn't entirely trust Willter's plan making, I didn't have any other choice but to give him the upper hand. Which had proved countless times that it wasn't a good idea.

But our options were narrow and our time was limited due to the imminent police, so again, I was powerless.

Shifting my jaw to the left, I gave the signal that I was on board.

Chapter Text

A man swung at my jaw while I was distracted, but I caught it and swung him over my shoulder like a ragdoll, giving him as much mercy as possible. Some mercy is better than no mercy.

Willter sprung into action and kicked the light panel, causing all the lights to flicker.

I pulled the man from the door, throwing him over the bar into a plate of steaming hot pancakes and about a dozen cups of coffee, spilling them all over the floor.

Ben kicked away the second man, a chilling crack echoing through the diner as the lights continued to flicker out of sync, slightly disorienting me.

A took a punch to the jaw as I tried to pull myself and focus.

After taking down my attacker with a kick to the chest, I slid down to the floor and swept my foot under three others, sending them to the floor.

Something flashed in the corner of my eye, and I reached out to catch it as the jukebox still played an inappropriate tune for the circumstances.

Using the chair I had caught, I knocked out an attacker that was looming over Ben, swiftly swinging it onto the back of his neck. I watched as he fell like a domino to the ground, steady and stiffly falling to the ground with a thud.

"Go, go, go!" He yelled as he picked himself off the ground and we both ran out of the restaurant and straight to the car, wasting no time.

Before I knew it, I was speeding the car down a curvy back road, desperately trying to escape the police that were hot on our tail.

"You got a gun?!" I loudly asked Willter over the sound of the sirens behind us.

Ben pulled a gun from his pants. He attempted to roll down the window, but the gear must've been broken, because he began to yell as he struggled more and more to get it to roll, beating the door with his fist.

"Get back!" I yelled.

Ben did as he was told, pressing himself against the back of his seat. I switched my left leg to the gas, and used my right leg to kick out his window.

He shot out the window at the police closest to us, shooting repeatedly.

Taking a peak in the rearview mirror as I tried to stay steady on the road, I noticed that he wasn't shooting at the tires like I suspected him to, he was shooting through the windshield.

"Hey!" I yelled, pulling his leg down from out of the window, but he kept shooting until eventually the car stopped, blocking the road from the other police cars.

I drove further into the woods, and turned on the next intersection.

I sped faster, taking the curves much faster than they should've been taken, my heart pumping so fast, I could feel it rushing through my veins.

My teeth grit against each other, perhaps maybe it was the only thing keeping me from blowing up at Willter.

Technically, nothing bound me to him. I was free to go.

The engine whizzed as I did my best not to lose control, the wind from Ben's broken window blowing into the car, catching my hair in it.

I could go back to who I promised myself to be after this. Someone who could make it without holding onto his every last breath.

Like maybe I loved him.

I didn't. Couldn't. Definitely shouldn't.

But I loved him because he's always been there for me. Whether I'm near death in a ditch, or lonely in the halls of the palace of versailles.

He'd always be there with a smile.

"I've got to fill the silence, Meredith." He spoke up, and I was brought out of my thoughtful daze.

I sighed, "I've got a million ways to."

"And I'll bet all of them include you unleashing all of your anger on me," he suggested, being 100% right.

"Why would you shoot at them, Willter?" I asked, fed up with all of this dancing. Dancing around the cracks that we'd be better off falling into.

"Because they were dangerous," He said. I felt his gaze lasered on me.

"They were just doing their job," I said. "The police were innocent enough to be spared."

Willter raised his voice, "And you get to decide that?"

"Everyone does, at least once in their life." I said, "If you like it or not, you've got to decide whether or not someone deserves pain you need to give them to keep yourself safe. Not to mention it's my job."

"Fine," He said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shot at them. But I did stop them by practically putting myself as a moving target, so you can at least say thank you."

I rolled my eyes.

"Thank you," I said, my face not reflecting my words.

We rode in silence for a few miles.

"The stars look so much better out here," Ben said after my teeth had now been ground to dust, leaning closer to the dashboard to get a better look.

He was completely right- the stars seemed to quadruple across the sky, looking brighter and almost sparkled.

"So I've actually been tracing the stars, and a once in a five millennium event is about to happen, which, I'm really excited about, because it's a big deal! Several planets are about to align, and they haven't aligned since 3200 BC! Do you know how lucky I am to live right now?" He said excitedly, not taking his eyes off the stars, "but it'll be in about a year, sadly."

I chuckled a bit at how amazed he looked. Like a child, he smiled big and wide, naturally, unaware that someone can perceive the way he looks.

Not the way he smiled in front of everyone else. It made me forget I was supposed to be mad at him.

"I forget, sometimes, that you used to intern at NASA. You're talking about the stars in such a thrilling way and I start to think you're crazy."

His smile slightly faded, the corners of his mouth slightly pointing downward.

"That's typical," he said, still looking at the stars.

"Seriously?" I said, my head jerking towards him.

"You forget things about me. I bet you don't even remember my birthday," He accused, casually.

"Don't whine. Its August 28th," I whispered in a deep tone, proving that I did in fact know plenty about him. Maybe too much about him. Like the way he likes to blame other people for his problems, or that he only knows how to draw birds, or that his favorite song is "Take On Me".

"Great, you remembered my birthday, so then why'd you skip out on me?"

I'd fallen right into his trap.

"I didn't realize, unfortunately, that you were still holding onto that. There's also plenty of reasons why you shouldn't be mad," I said.

"Go right ahead, tell me how you're right, please, because I have been waiting ages for this," he finally took his eyes from the stars, now looking at me. His eyes snatched the stars from the sky.

"Neither do I, but I wasn't the one who brought it up," I defended myself, trying to keep my eyes on the road, but it was hard when Ben kept staring at me like that.

"Go ahead and list those reasons, because I'm still waiting- in fact, write them down," he said, handing me the dinner receipt from his pocket.

"I'm driving, I can't write. Idiot," I joked, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He grimaced, wrists deep in the center console, searching for a pen.

"Hey- a mixtape!" He said excitedly, picking up a CD- not a pen.

He took the CD out of the case and popped it in, staring intently at the radio, curious as to what it was about to play.

"Pen," I recalled, after Ben started to space out while listening to the music.

"Oh-" he said, digging in the center console again.

"Ah-ha!" Ben exclaimed, pulling out a pen- cheap, and sticky, "Okay- go."

"Reason number one- its Tony Stark. He was having a party and he invited my Dad and a plus one. Which would be me. It's rude to invite someone that the host didn't invite," I said, "Also- you would be a little forgetful too if you were invited to a high-class party by the Tony Stark."

"And I'm Benjamin Willter, next." He said, scribbling down my reason.

"But I hang out with you any day, I've only met him twice," I reasoned.

He was silent, tapping the pen against the receipt.

"Okay..." I sighed, "I had already celebrated with you that Tuesday! We had cake and ice cream with Lenny and Sam."

"Yeah, but I wanted to hang out with you on my actual birthday."

"Don't get greedy."

"You gonna keep that receipt?" I asked, after he scribbled something down on it.

"Maybe. I'll study it and figure out what your problem is."

"I don't have any problems that concern you."

"Well friends concern themselves with each other's problems, whether or not it affects them, because we care!" He said, aggressively.

"Are we even friends anymore?" I asked, feeling my palms slick against the steering wheel.

"We better be, I just gave up my entire career for you."

"I appreciate that, truly I do Ben, but I have a serious problem if that's all our relationship is. Doing things for each other for our own gain."

"It's not ideal, but it's actually because I really..." he said, his eyes looking up from his receipt and straight into mine, "I really love you. And based on whether or not you feel the same way, you can interpret anyway you want. I mean that."

I knew it the whole time. And I thought I knew exactly how I felt. But hearing him say it. Seeing the look in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice. I could feel the memories drowning me in the overwhelming sense of awareness of things I shoved down.

But he tilled it all back up with just a few sweet words that meant the moon and the stars to me, even though I've sworn up and down that I had no feelings for him whatsoever.

I'd known for a while that he liked me. It wasn't very hard to see.

I could use the excuse that I loved him like a brother. But I never did because I always knew deep down that I never loved him like a brother. I just loved him.

Saying that I loved him like a brother was like completely signing away any possibility of us. And for some reason unknown to me at the time, I never said it.

It made me angry. Furious. He was doing this while we were in the midst of a very serious and personal mission.

I was furious because I knew this silly little thing was important too.

"Meredith?" Ben asked after I completely blanked out while behind the wheel, just watching the headlights pass us by.

"Me too," I said, "And I think I just realized."

And that's why all of those times I tried to leave him didn't work. Because I loved him too much.

"You didn't think you loved me?"

"Stop reading between the lines, because there's nothing there. It's blank," I said, snatching the pen and receipt from him, stuffing it into my shirt, "I'm the one to love without realizing that I am. Then it's too late. It's got absolutely nothing in the world to do with you."

The AC was on full blast, chilling my face but failing to dry my tear before they fell down my cheeks.

"Portia," Ben said, his voice full of sympathy and understanding. Just the mention of her name jolted me out of the daze I was in.

"It's scary."

Ben turned the radio down, just by a few marks. "So you admit it, you aren't as fearless as you seem."

"I am fearless. I'm just scared," I admitted, trying to keep my hands on the steering wheel and away from each other.

"Mere, You're the bravest person I know."

"I'm a coward," I corrected, "Why do you think I've hated you so much? Not just because you're annoying and stupid."

"So. Do you want me to read inbetween the lines this time or should I leave that up for interpretation because what I'm hearing probably isn't what you're saying," Ben smiled a mile wide at me, his single dimple poking out.

"Read between the lines, you idiot," I said, causally tilting my head before turning the song back up, glancing over at Ben.

His eyes were wide and his smile looked a little goofy, the kind of happiness I only saw while he was looking at the stars.

"Alright, pull out your map Ben, we've still got a long way to go," I said, resuming business as usual.

Willter dug in his backpack, pulling out a crumpled map. "Well, first we've got to figure out where we are."

My one headlight illuminated the highway sign for a split second.

Route 632.

"Take a left at the next exit. There's a highway that'll get us there the fastest."

That's when I found out my heart could groan. That's when I was reminded why I never should've got my hopes up and started trusting Ben.

"Willter, I swear," I said, "I'm tired of this."

He was silent.

"Everytime I think we might've finally made up, you turn around and say something stupid and everything comes back up," I said, fuming, "I can't take the highway, Willter? You want to know why?"

The only sound was the rain against the windshield, cracking and popping violently.

"I know why, I'm not a child."

"That's right, because you're a real live adult, who knows when to not dance in a diner when you're being hunted. Even if you know it'll be the most fun we've had in a long time."

"And you love to take risks, unless you're risking yourself and what you want."

"I don't want anything anymore, Willter," I said, feeling my chest shake as I took in a deep breath. "All I want is to put Loki in the ground. I didn't need a sword to do it."

I stopped at a stoplight, and glanced at the sword in the backseat. I could see the light turn green in it's reflection.

But I didn't go.

"And I wanted to be at my Dad's funeral. But people who want vengeance don't need a funeral to mourn."

Ben seemed to be reminded that my Dad was dead. I was reminded that my dad was dead.

My heart shattered like it did the first night. And I knew it would shatter over and over and over again until I finally get to die.

Ben opened his door and got out, walking around the car to my side.

"Let me drive. I'll get us there through the backroads just as quickly as the highway," Ben demanded, opening my door, "I'll make it all up to you, Star, I promise."

I felt weak. Tired. Surrendered? No.

Just tired.

I shook my head softly, biting back the tears that silently spilled down my cheek.

So when I got to the back seat, I curled up in a ball, and let the tears spill down my cheek. I didn't make a sound as Willter sped down the road.

Things were so beautiful, just a few minutes ago. So sweet. And he made me forget everything else I had to face. Every dark and disgusting faucet of life didn't exist anymore and it was so potently addicting.

And just as the curse goes, we're doomed to flicker and turn and twist back to what we truly were.

Chapter Text

✯ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Your Dad is cool,” Ben said as he took a sip of orange juice from his glass, setting it down on the table over a preexisting water ring.

My fingers delicately laid out my word for scrabble, the pieces earning me a decent set of points that put me ahead of Ben by leaps and bounds.

“Yeah. Except for whenever he can’t be,” I said, and Ben slid me my own glass of juice, grape juice, in a glass he must’ve found in the back of the cabinet.

I looked in amusement as Kermit’s green paint slowly chipped away on the old glass I’d gotten from Fury for my 8th birthday, it’s matching counterparts that sported Miss Piggy, Fozzy Bear, and Gonzo long gone.

Ben sat down on the chair across from me, and took a look at my word. The first word on the board.

“Runaway,” he said. “That’s a good one.”

“Thanks,” I said, and watched him as he put his own words together with surprising delicacy under the single light in the kitchen.

It was 2 AM, and Ben and I decided to make use of our off-time that month by pulling an all-nighter, filled with whatever we wanted to do. Something we weren’t able to do often was anything we wanted.

And as much as we loved our jobs, it restricted us from living our lives. We should’ve known that sacrificing everything did mean exactly what was written. Our lives weren’t our own, they were the governments.

We spent the whole day playing video games on the atari we found in the attic while we were snooping around for my Dad’s Captain America memorabilia.

Our plans to go to coney island had been spoiled by the rain. I hated the rain, especially since I was alone, ever since I could remember.

Dad had gone on a little trip to New Mexico. SHIELD wouldn’t let me go, and Dad didn’t want me to waste my off days.

So Ben decided to stay the weekend.

A crack of lightning lit up the kitchen, casting an eerie shadow of the tree violently shaking, casting ghostly black and white shadows throughout the room, as if the shadows were the coming of ghosts to haunt my home.

“We should probably go to the basement,” I said, my palms becoming sweaty as I obsessively picked at my fingers. I tried to seem casual about it.

I could say it was simply cooler down there, but it was more because I’d rather fight the ghosts inside than outside. They knew me better, I’m sure, and if they knew me, they might be too scared.

I worried for the day the ghosts found out I couldn’t punch supernatural beings.

“Meredith, it’s fine. I promise,” He handed me another six pieces. “Now play.”

I brought a twitching hand up to my roster, picking up a few pieces. Ben had made “car”.

“Alone”

“Well now that’s a bit sad.” He said, laughing, “Should we talk about what’s on your mind?”

“No, I just had the letters. So I made alone. That’s how the whole game works,” I defended, added emphasis by tapping the board.

“I mean, it’s not like you’re alone,” He said. “So I guess you're right, it is just a game…”

We put a few more words, and stumped ourselves between a few cracks of lightning and crashes of thunder that started to distract me more and more.

Ben studied his pieces. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends,” I said, studying him. “My favorite color is plum, my favorite food is spaghetti, And Full House-”

I heard a faint crack of lightning and started counting in my head, trying to cover my feared expression with a smile.

“No,” he interrupted, inspecting my face. “I mean… a serious question.”

Boom. Eight seconds.

“Okay, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer it.”

“Whenever your Dad went on trips like this before, what did you do?”

“What are you implying?”

“I mean,” he placed a piece on the board, “Did you get scared? Were you lonely on nights like these?”

The truth was that I did. After I turned 13, I was allowed to stay at home alone when Dad went on missions, and I pretended to be happy with the news as to stay strong like I had been told to. But I not so deep down, I was scared.

It was terrifying for plenty of reasons. I didn’t know if he was coming back, I was all alone, the house was scary at night, and I’d been warned that as someone with my abilities, I’d be at risk for kidnapping and tracking.

And in the back of my mind, I was terrified of the fairy tale that was HYDRA.

My Dad treated Captain America like a fairy tale, and I did too, but as I got older, I realized that HYDRA had been real, the war was real, and people like Red Skull and Zola all really existed.

And as they love to say, cut off one head, two more shall take its place.

I’d never told anyone about my stupid little fear, as I knew that HYDRA was no longer around, so I kept it to myself.

“And, I like full house too. I used to watch it all the same while my brother was busy,” He continued.

“I’m terrified,” I blurted, arms folded on the counter, not taking my eyes off the board.

The wind whistled, sending a shiver up my spine, and I felt my heart drop to my stomach, willing the cheetos I ate for “dinner” to make another appearance on the table.

“You know, it’s okay to be afraid. Everyone gets scared. It’s actually kind of weird if you aren’t,” He said, “Hey, you know, I’ll bet even the director gets scared sometimes too.”

His response took me off guard, as I’d never heard anyone actually let me be afraid without telling me I shouldn’t, just because I was physically strong. And it didn’t even make me feel weak or small. I felt understood.

In fact, I felt stronger than before. Like he had taken the buckets of water from my hands and poured them out.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but I heard Fury is terrified of dogs,” He laughed, and put another piece on the board.

“Yeah,” I said, still dumbfounded at how he didn’t make a big deal about it. He just kept playing. “I know I shouldn’t be scared, but…”

He picked his head up, eyebrows raised in attention.

“I know it’s stupid, but, I-”

“No. Start over,” He interrupted.

“What?”

“I said start over.” Ben leaned in his chair, “Just say what you want to say, without the stupid part.”

“Okay…” I looked at my pieces and made another word on the board. Triple points. “I’m afraid that HYDRA is still out there.”

I could see in Ben’s face he was trying not to laugh.

“You said it wasn’t stupid!” I whined, beating a fist on the table.

“It’s not.” He said, lips curling in an unnatural way, “It’s just… not what I was expecting.”

“Well, you know, it’s a valid point. They always liked to say “cut off one head etcetera, etcetera,” and you know we cut off one head, so how do you know they haven’t grown back like, 20?” I blabbed, my shoulders shrugging as I picked at my hands in my lap.

“Meredith,” He said, and he reached over the table to pull my hands to the top, placing them face down and away from each other, “You don’t have to worry. You can worry. But you shouldn’t.”

“If I can, then why wouldn’t I?”

“Because right now you could be bit by a deadly mosquito.”

“A deadly mosquito,”I repeated, not understanding his cryptic analogy.

He sighed. “Yes, you could be bit by a deadly mosquito, and then what would happen? You would die. And the chances of that are 1 in 300. But what are the chances of HYDRA, the organization that was eradicated in 1940,” he paused, letting it sink in, “just deciding to kill you in your sleep.”

The wires in my brain began to connect and spark with the realization.

“Slim,” I said, and Ben added another word to the board.

“So you don’t have to worry.” He smiled. “You can, but it’d be ridiculous. Especially when you could worry about mosquito diseases.”

“Thanks, I needed more suggestions,” I said. Despite my tone, I was grateful.

I didn’t have to worry.

“You know what? I’m not really worried about HYDRA right now,” I serenaded, “because I only worry about them when I’m alone.”

“Ha! You were thinking about being alone!” He said, pointing at me.

Calmly, I smiled, placing my fingertips under the board, teasing to toss it over the table at any second.

Panic filled Ben’s eyes, his eyebrows jumping from his face. “Don’t…”

Pieces went flying as I flipped it, making good on my threat, smiling as Ben’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I win.”

We looked at each other silently before laughing hysterically, thunder booming in the background as I hit his shoulder playfully.

Then he grabbed my shoulder,and shook it wildly.

“Dude, what are you doing?” I asked him as he began to fade away, trying to blink away my groggy overwhelming tiredness.

“Wake up, I need you to watch the car,” Willter said, his arm on my shoulder, shaking me awake.

He was standing right outside my door, rain soaking him head to toe, his face dripping wet as small water droplets dripped from his nose.

“What are you doing?” I asked, instantly snapping up, trying to get a good look at where we were.

But it was pretty hard. Because of how eerily dark everything was, and not just because of the pouring rain. No streetlights were on, no signs, no one driving down the road, even our own headlights were off. I could barely tell where we were.

The power must’ve gone out because of the storm.

“I called a friend of mine to get some things we might need, I’ll only take a couple seconds, I swear,” Ben said.

“No!” I said, “Last time we got something from a friend of yours, he turned out to be a nazi and trapped us in with carbon monoxide and had to rig a cannon to get us out. Just in case you forgot.”

“I promise you, he’s not like that at all, cross my heart,” He said, making a cross my heart symbol across his rain soaked shirt.

“You can’t promise that anymore,” I said flatly, shaking my head.

“Ok, well, then, just trust me. If he turns out to be a nazi- which he is not- then you can trust me to get out safely,” he said, “Please?”

“No. Get in the car before you catch a cold,” I said, putting my foot down. We aren’t going to any more shady places.

“I’m not going to do that,” Ben smiled, “You’ve got to let me prove to you that I can be trustworthy, or else how will you know I’ve changed?”

“This is not the kind of time to be changing, Ben,” I replied, starting to get wet from the rain that the wind had brought into the car.

“It’s the perfect time to change,” he said, shutting the door.

I was too tired to argue with him anymore. I was too tired to keep fighting him. Maybe that was our problem all along. We don’t know when to quit and compromise.

And now was the perfect time to change.

I saw him go into the store, but not much of what was happening in it.

After taking some time to look into the pitch black darkness, I realized we were in a small, run-down strip mall.

One day, I’ll hopefully be able to ask Ben where he finds all these shady people. Or maybe the shady people found him.

What on earth could he be getting in there, anyways?

Lighting struck not far away, finally giving a good amount of light to everything around me, including the sign of the store Ben just walked in.

“BUDDY & KIN, PAWNSHOP”

Pawnshop?

Before I could question anything further, Ben came rushing out, carrying two plastic grocery bags with a large yellow smiley face on it, a similar one of his own face as he hopped in the car, making a squelching noise as he sat down.

“I’m a changed man, Meredith,” he said, throwing me the bags as he cranked the car and put it into drive.

“Oh yeah? What’d you get, a- oh.”

There were two wallets, two nano-masks, and two icers. I picked up one of the wallets, opening one of them.

“Uh-huh. Wanna finish that? Huh? Huh?” Ben said, looking at me in the rearview mirror, wildly grinning.

“How did you get this?!” I said, not taking my eyes off the contents of the bag.

Inside of it was a perfectly crafted fake identity, all crammed into it. Tiny pieces of memorabilia were tucked into it, a pressed penny, a fortune, and a small “love you” note. The wallet showed a tiny bit of wear and tear, but more importantly, there was a fake ID.

I pulled the ID out, studying it. The picture was almost me. It had my hair, my shoulders, my neck, but the only thing that was different was my face. It was completely different. Blue eyes, sharp brows, plump lips, and freckles.

I read the ID. “Stephanie Wayne?”

Ben shrugged, putting his backpack back on, “Listen, it’s late and I’d thought it would be funny. Stephanie, Steve, Wayne, as in Bruce.”

“I haven’t read a Batman comic in ages, Ben. But it’s not hard to guess that he’s probably still fighting the joker.” I said, remembering one of my teenage phases.

“You’re also loaded, like batman,” he said, grabbing my attention, “turns out, that ring was worth 8,000 dollars, Star.”

“Oh. I still feel bad about that,” I said, trying the bag and stuffing it in our backpack.

“That engagement ring that found its way to us, honey bun. Maybe the fiance lost it on purpose. You know, some kind of tragedy. This is all a part of an even bigger surprise that I’ve got for you, so buckle up, for real,” He laughed, placing his arm on the armrest and turning back to look at me, glancing at the other bag.

I opened it, and sure enough, there looked to be about 8,000 dollars in it.

“Ben,” I said, “This is incredible.”

“Well, geez,” he laughed. “How else are we going to get plane tickets?”

I inhaled a quick sharp breath, my head snapping up at him.

As much as I wanted to argue about safety, he was right. Everything we needed to hop on a plane was right here.

“I mean, I’m not sure exactly how I figured I’d get to New Mexico in time, but, whatever the plan was, it’s definitely not as good as this,” I remarked.

“Well, we’re a team, so we’re going to work together as one, right? You used the cannon to break through the door, I got us some neat stuff. We’re even.”

“Sure,” I laughed, “What’s the second surprise?”

“We’re almost there,” he said.

The rain began to clear as we drove, the sun barely starting to shine on the horizon as Ben pulled over on side of the road.

Taking a look around, I noticed the small river below us. We were just outside the lonely highway, the rain still pouring from the sky, the trees swaying in the wind.

“Meredith Lee Coulson, do you want to die?” He said after we got out of the car, throwing the backpack over his shoulder.

“What?!” I yelled, subconsciously taking a cautious step backward.

“I mean, do you want to fake die?”

All the pieces came together. He was about to shove the car into the river and fake our deaths. I’m impressed.

“Let me. I’ve always wanted to kill you.” I laughed.

He stepped back and let me pick the back side up and flip it over. We watched as the car took several flips before it finally crashed into the deep flowing waters.

The car sank, and I realized that I was really dead to everyone.

But maybe, that’s a good thing.

Because whenever I show up to my Dad’s funeral, Loki’s heart in my hand, then they’ll realize that I am not who died in that river.

The woman who sank is not the woman who wins.

“Ben?”

“Mhm?”

“How are we supposed to get to the airport now?” I asked, staring into the water where our ride had just crashed into.

“The used car dealership is right across the road. And we are SO loaded.”

We walked across the road and met a car salesman. Ben picked out a cheap, old car.

“Sword show?”

“It’s for cool people. Only by invitation.”

We were sitting in the seller’s office, and he had asked why we had a sword.

He was quiet, staring us down a bit while slightly spinning his chair. The sun was coming up behind him, illuminating him like a saint in a crumbling office that probably hadn’t seen more than 20,000 dollars in its entire lifetime.

Eventually, he slid us the papers for the cheapest car on the lot.

“How’d you folks get here anyway?” He asked as Ben signed the paper under his fake ID name.

Who, coincidentally, also had the last name Wayne. Dustin Wayne. The most cowboy name I had ever heard.

Maybe he was really destined for the saddle.

“We took the bus, we’ve been staying at the hotel.”

“Me and my lovely wife are from the little town of Miami,” He said, earning a hearty laugh from the man who was lighting a cigar.

“You should’ve waited a few days, this storm has taken out the power from here to about 25 miles out,” He said, puffing smoke while looking out at the harsh winds that sent a stick flying into one of his cars.

The man groaned, shutting the blinds and taking another hearty puff of smoke.

I could barely sign the paper, thinking about the way Ben said wife. It was stupid though, so I got over it as quickly as I could, focusing on the signature, making sure to do a big S and a big W, swirling the end perfectly.

“Welp,” our salesman said, hitting his knees. He picked a key from a bulletin board with about two dozen keys on it, and handed it to Ben.

I took it from his hands and smiled. “Pleasure doing business with you,” I said before I pulled Ben out of his chair and walked out the door.

“Don’t forget to tell all your friends!” He yelled after us as we swiftly left the office, wasting no time.

Me and Willter made our way to our new car, a 1999 Ford Taurus. It wasn’t long before we were back on the interstate.

The airport was thankfully only 15 minutes away from where we were, according to the map.

Truthfully, I wasn’t really sure that Ben could’ve gotten me there in time. But he did.

“Alright! Are you excited to go to the wonderful, magical, Asgard?” Ben said as he drove down the highway, bound for the airport.

He dug a CD out of his backpack, taking his eyes off of the road, all of his attention focused on putting it in the CD player.

“I’ve been ready since Monday,” I sighed, resting my face on the window, keeping a watchful eye on Ben as he put it in.

Despite the sunrise not being completely clear due to the large storm clouds, it was still morning. It was a new day, even if you couldn’t tell.

Maybe if it was a new day, it could be a new day for us.

I looked at Ben, who was slightly smirking, biting on his cheek.

“So when you get back,” He said, turning his head to face me, and he realized I’d already been looking. “Should I call you Lady Meredith?”

“Yep, cowboy is out, Asgardian god murderer is in,” I said, the track starting to play.

“But you’ll always be my partner, Lady Meredith,” He said, smiling a more innocent smile. A pure, genuine, happy smile.

“Nah, I think I’d be too good for you by then.”

Ben laughed. “You already are.”

“What? You don’t really think that, do you?” I asked, taking my foot from its place propped on the dash, lighting striking from behind us with a loud crack.

“I mean, I think I’m a pretty cool guy,” He said, “but you… You’re Meredith Coulson.”

“What about it?” I laughed, picking at my fingers.

“You’re a legend, Star, don’t be so humble,” he said, giving my shoulder a slight shove.

“Oh please, Ben. You got into a NASA internship at age sixteen,” I reasoned, gesturing at his backpack, which was now in pretty bad shape, considering all it’s been through. “That’s pretty legendary.”

“But you’re 6’3, can lift 2,000 pounds, IQ of 4.3, you’re the youngest SHIELD Agent to assume a Level 8 clearance level, and no, don’t hold up that finger, let me talk,” he said after I tried to shush him, “the first ever woman to have two medals of honor, 145 IQ, two black belts in karate, Level 8 gymnast, trained with the black widow and, you wield a sword like you were born with one.”

I simply stared straight ahead. “That was all so unnecessary.”

“Oh but you loved it.”

“Oh no, I hated it, you didn’t even mention my 79 solo missions. Or how hot I am. Or my yoga skills.”

“Sorry, I just thought that the fact you have met the president twice was cooler than yoga.”

“Ahhh good old Matt. Hope he isn’t too mad at me,” I laughed, knowing well that he was probably sweating after giving a now wanted criminal a medal of honor.

But I’m getting myself a new medal of honor. One that matters.

Eventually, we pulled up to the Airport, finding a parking space only about half a mile from the entrance. He locked the car door, and we headed into the airport.

Something seemed off as soon as we walked in. I noticed almost right away that the power outage had stretched to the airport.

“Do you have a permit for your weapon?” Asked a police officer as I looked around at all the panicked people. He asked, very politely.

I smiled my sweetest smile, “Why yes, of course.”

The young police officer smiled back, and I felt Ben’s stare on my neck.

I pulled the pre-readied wallet from my back pocket, flashing my fake SHIELD ID at the officer. The wallet had fake family pictures, a drivers license, dollar bills, and a pressed penny from the white house.

Something personalized, to make it seem real and believable.

“Alright, you’re good to go.” He said, leading me to the PSA. “You have a lovely day, Ma’am.”

We walked to the front desk, preparing to purchase our tickets.

“Two tickets to New Mexico, please.” Ben said confidently, cash in hand. He leaned up against the front desk, and gave the woman a smile.

Just as I did the police officer.

I raised my eyebrow in the slightest, amused at his attempt to flirt.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The woman said, her eyebrows furrowing in sympathy, “the flight just left.”

The next thing I knew, we were racing through the busy airport, running to gate 54.

Willter did his best to keep up with me, worming in and out of the concerned civilians, who had cleared for the giant running through them.

For Ben, he wasn’t that lucky.

I spotted gate 54, and took off running for it, now joined by two police officers yelling for me to stop.

“I’m just trying to buy a ticket, guys!” I said, nearly losing my footing on a turn.

I had asked where the gate was after the lady at the desk broke the news about the tickets. What I hadn’t remembered is that police officers existed.

Finally, I approached the gate. The occupants all jumped back at the crazy, mad woman who was waving around a stack of cash.

“I need just one ticket to New Mexico,” I said, desperately. “I’ll buy it for twice as much as you paid for it.”

“Get on the ground!” A guard yelled, pointing a gun at me.

My head snapped in the direction of the guard, met with the barrel of a gun. I was surrounded.

Chapter Text

I felt the officer's foot push deeper into my face, smudging mud from the rain onto my cheek as he shoved me into the cold tile floors.

My anger took over me as my arm grabbed his leg, pulling him from my face and down to the ground.

He dropped his gun, and I snatched it from the air, turning it back around on the officer, pinning him to the ground with a satisfying thud as I put my own boot into his face. It was my utmost pleasure to watch him squirm.

“I’m with SHIELD,” I said, pulling my wallet from my back pocket, revealing it to the hostile men. “He is too. And we needed that flight,” I sighed, watching the flight attendant close the door on the entrance, completely blocking my way to what I’d been fighting for this whole time.

Everything I've gone through to get here, down the drain.

“We’re sorry, Ma’am. We had no idea SHIELD personnel would be here today,” Said an officer, his badge reading Frank.

I put my gun down and folded my wallet back into my pocket.

“That’s because it’s a Level 8 Operation. And it was just jeopardized by my new partner's unpreparedness,” I said, straightening my shirt, and glaring at an upset Willter, who was being uncuffed.

After discussing the accident with Police Officers, I caught sight of Willter walking back up to me, and I completely silenced the Lady at the front desk giving me options on flight routes. All of them would take longer than just driving.

“They’re giving us a motel room for the night, they’ve got a plane leaving for Amarillo in the morning, and another flight there for New Mexico in the afternoon,” He explained, softly.

Careful not to make me more upset than I already was.

I watched as the plane took off, and I fought the urge to break out of the large windows, chase it down, and ride the wing all the way to New Mexico.

But even I have my limits. And remaining common sense.

“You know what,” I said, “let’s just drive.”

The breath in my lungs hitched when I’d realized I said “let’s”. As in us. A force of habit that slowly killed me.

Common sense, the same thing that kept me from riding the wing, told me that bringing Willter along was a bad idea.

Especially since I’d been trying to leave him as soon as I picked him up.

He’d never let me though. Because he thought he knew what’s best for me.

I know what’s best for us though. We were great in the field, the best at having a little party sometimes, but alone, we were a mess.

“You can’t drive,” He replied, “You need rest. Just to take a little break.”

“Who are you talking to right now?” I asked, slightly smiling to try and mask my negative emotions, “78 hours sharp. 10 groggy, 5 tired.”

“I don’t mean like that,” He said.

“I’m fine.”

“Really, I wish I could believe that, but I know you, Star,” He said, obviously wanting to say more, but didn’t dare.

He may know me, but I know us.

I knew I could leave him here. Just run out of here as fast as I could, hop in the car, and drive. Even though driving may take more time, at least I was staying busy. Waiting the rest of the day and all night with Ben was a recipe for what I didn’t want to happen.

But I also knew Ben Willter, and I knew he’d follow close behind if I were to do that.

“Fine, let’s go to the hotel.”

As we drove up to the building after a short 25 minute drive, we noticed it was a motel. A nice one, but still not a hotel.

The Black Snake Motel. It sat on the edge of the small North Carolina town, and had only about two or three cars in the parking lot. The LED lights from the sign were off, bringing the whole quality of the parking lot down, which was glistening from the rain that had passed.

Seemed like a fine place to leave someone for good.

We parked across from a blue honda civic with a baby on board bumper sticker. I couldn’t help but think that this was an awful place to bring a child.

As directed, we showed the lady at the front desk our ID, and as promised by the worker at the airport, she led us to a suite that was fully paid for as an apology for the kerfuffle.

“The lights should be back on in an hour. You two have a nice stay,” She said, handing me the key, the small plastic keychain being faded and broken, and a bit sticky with a mystery substance from various previous holders.

“You too,” I gave her a nod, and waited for her to turn the corner before unlocking the door, slowly, careful not to make too much noise.

Willter’s hand reached for the handle, and I gently placed my hand over his.

Confused, he looked up at me.

I placed a finger over my lips, signaling for him to be quiet.

For the past few days, I’d been run around by this game, but this time I knew to expect the worst. I was going to have the upper hand this time, and I’ll be the first to fire the gun.

He handed me my sword, and stood behind me, waiting for me to turn the handle.

Slowly, my hand inched towards the handle, feeling the cold metal on my palm. In my other hand, I wielded my sword, ready for whoever might be behind the door.

It seemed plausible. SHIELD was alerted of the issue, a free hotel room to lure us here, and right when we walked into the mouth, the jaws would snap with a crack and a swallow.

I turned the handle, and Ben kicked it open with a loud bang, most likely waking up the 3 other guests.

We crept back to back into the hotel room, carefully stepping on the fluffy carpet.

Ben had a weapon as well, but I couldn’t tell if it was a gun or an icer.

“Flashlight,” I whispered, closing the door.

He dug in his bag, throwing it on the ground after he pulled out a flashlight, illuminating the room with a single click. I immediately crouched down to look under the bed, while he looked in the closet and behind the curtains.

“We’re clear,” I said, locking the door. I placed a chair in front of it, adding extra protection. “Close the blinds.”

Quickly, he stumbled over the heart-shaped ottoman and closed the blinds.

The room was a 70s nightmare, complete with orange shag carpeting, Arcadia headboard, and a round bed.

“I think I’d rather sleep on a rock,” I said, looking at the psychedelic disaster before me.

“Personally, for me, I think the round bed is cool,” he said, and I cringed as he happily flopped onto it. “My sister used to have one, but it was very pink.”

“Good for her,” I replied over the sounds of the storm outside, thinking of the idea of a pink round bed. I could dig it. He never said much about his siblings or family, other than the fact that he had twin sisters. I've never met any of them.

We settled in; which was setting the bag and the sword down and getting Ben in a shower.

And just as I got here, I couldn’t stop thinking about getting out of here as fast as I could. Like running away from a blazing wildfire that was slowly getting out of hand until someone added gasoline.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was me. And after last night's confession, I practically reeked of the ignition.

“Well, we’ve got the whole day and night, huh?” I said, trying to soften my composure so that Ben couldn’t try and read my tenseness.

“Yep. We’ll probably have to take turns sleeping so that way the other can watch out for any intruders,” Ben said, unpacking my bag and inspecting its contents.

“Well, there’s a motel bar here… and we’ve got a few extra bucks left over from the pawned ring, so I mean…” I said, walking over to the mirror on the dresser and undoing my hair.

“You’ve used “well” in two sentences,” Ben informed, refolding my clothes and organizing the marionette serums.

“What about it?” I laughed, shaking out my curls.

“It means you need sleep. You’re going cuckoo for coco puffs, Star,” He smiled back, handing me a fresh pair of pants and a t-shirt from my bag.

“You said at the diner I never have fun. This is me having fun, alright? So either take what you get or in the future you won’t have another chance,” I said, Ben not making eye contact as he studied an ICER for any issues.

It hurt to say “in the future”, because I knew good and well that after this, there’s a good chance we’ll never speak again.

And as much as I know he’s not okay with that, I wasn’t sure I was either.

But most of the time, we aren’t okay with things that are necessary. Doesn’t make them something to dance around.

I wasn’t okay with leaving the only thing I’d ever known as a constant, but I had to.

“C’mon, it’s fine…” I said, wrestling my hair into a braid, “you’ve got a fake face now!”

“Oh, is it hour 94 already?”

“Really, Ben, it’s fine. I feel bad for dragging you along. This is a little treat. For the both of us,” I tilted my head to the right ever so slightly while my hand braided my hair, hoping my convincing was doing some kind of good.

He thought for a minute.

“Ok, but only for about an hour, then you’re going to bed,” he sighed in agreement.

Luckily for me, it’ll take only 45 minutes to get Willter drunk.

After finishing my braid, changing into a gray ribbed shirt, and waiting for Ben to change into a new set of clothes, we left the room and navigated the dark and unfamiliar grounds, eventually finding the bar.

The storm raged outside as we walked across the checkered flooring to the green leather bar-stools, greeted by a male bartender who looked to be in his late forties.

We gave him a peek at our IDs, which put us as 22.

“It’s a bit early for an old fashioned, isn’t it?” He asked after Ben made his order.

“Never too early for an old fashioned. Especially not in weather like this,” Ben answered, his face illuminated by candle light.

“And for you?” He asked me, beginning to whip up Willter’s order.

As much as I wanted to ask for a cold glass of water, I had learned my lesson from “It’s a Wonderful Life” that doing that was not something you’d want to do at a bar.

“I’ll just have a pina colada… virgin. And some water, if that’s alright?” I said, hoping to not get punched in the face.

“Coming right up,” he said.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Willter asked, taking a sip of his drink, earning a split second look of surprise from the bartender.

“Let me think for a minute, geez,” I groaned, just wanting this all to be over with. I was ready to fly out of here and burn some rubber on the way out.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just code for I don’t know.”

“No, no, I know,” I defended, watching him flag down the bartender after finishing his drink.

He always was a bit of an alcoholic, but don't mention it. I’d asked him about it once after catching him with a bottle of whisky under his bed at the academy, but he brushed me off.

Until I asked again later, and he told me that it was a habit he really wanted to break, as alcoholism has run in his family for generations, but he didn’t know how to. And he didn’t feel like he could break a curse, so he saved himself from the fight.

“Hey,” I placed a hand on Willter’s arm, “this is a treat, okay? All good things in moderation, and so forth. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t be letting you drink on the job.”

“Oh yeah? I thought I was fired.” He said, “You know, because I jeopardized the whole operation because of my unpreparedness. Never mind the reason why you’re even in a motel right now is because of how prepared I was.”

“Are you saying it’s me?” I asked, snatching the drink from his grip, splashing some on the counter.

Willter simply looked at me from the side of his eye.

He had no right. He chose to be here with me. He has no reason to be angry. He didn’t have his last chance at revenge on his dead father.

“Oh you tool,” I muttered under my breath as I glared back down at him after I realized that he was right.

I was unprepared. And he was ridiculously prepared.

“You know, Ben, I meant what I said last night. I love your stupid guts,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning back in my barstool, “and the only reason why I probably never realized it is because of how little time you gave me to love you.”

“I’ve felt the same way. Have you ever thought about that? One minute we’re cracking jokes and the next you’re ordering me around and demeaning me,” Ben shot back after downing a shot of who knows what, staring at the candle that lit up his face.

“That’s because it was my job, it’s not your job to… “ I trailed off.

“To what? Care too much? I know, believe me, I know. It never was. Being partners is the worst thing for us, but at the same time it was the best thing that ever happened to us, isn’t it?” He asked.

“So should we say goodbye to peace, then? Should we just let fate handle us? Let it toss us around and put us back together when it sees fit? Because I don’t want that.”

“What do you want?”

“I want my revenge. And I want us to be okay.” But I can’t have both.

“That’ll be a first, won’t it?” He laughed, and I could tell he was slowly getting more and more intoxicated.

Just as planned. As everything goes whenever you don’t really want it to but you know it must. It all happens too fast and you have no time to say goodbye.

“Then let’s stop fighting, okay? Right now,” I said, still needing more time.

“Right now,” He repeated, smiling a goofy smile, his eyes slowly graying as they flickered in the light of the candles.

For about 20 more minutes, I watched as Willter drank almost every drink he could think of, giving future Ben a gnarly hangover.

“I’ve studied the stars, babe, all of em’. But you… you’re the brightest, best one. And you’re only an arms length away. I don’t have to put myself in a rocket or any of that. But I would. For you,” Ben slurred, earning a grin from the bartender. And from me.

“Hey, Meredith, you know something?” Ben said in an unnaturally high-pitched tone after slurping down a diet coke vodka, “I think you should be loved by someone better than me. Yeah. You should do that. Find someone tall, strong, handsome, blonde. A guy that’ll take you out on nice dates and… and… and tell you that you look pretty. Call you honey pie. Or something. Maybe you should care so much about finding someone to love and then maybe he’ll come along. I love you, like, a lot, my Star, but, yeah, I’m no good for you. So, I want you to be happy. Then maybe I’ll be happy.”

Willter was now passed out on the bar, his backpack sitting vacant and open on the floor.

The bartender was now in the back, taking a well-deserved fifteen minute break.

It was now the perfect time to get up and leave, but I couldn’t. Because little did Ben know, he was one of the only people in this world that made me truly, truly happy. He was all of those things for me.

The only person I ever wanted to hang out with my whole entire life.

But he was right. He was no good for me. And that made me truly, truly angry.

It made me want to be someone else sometimes. Maybe if I had been a different person, then we would’ve been just fine. I hated who I was in the context of Ben Willter.

“Man, he’s sacked. And it’s only nine in the morning,” someone across the bar laughed.

“He needs some space,” I said to him.

It was true. We needed space. I didn’t know what I was going to do after this was all over, but my bet was that I'd somehow narrowly escape prison after being back on earth and spend the rest of my life running.

Maybe I could run with him.

But who was I kidding? Not after what I’m about to do to him.

I got myself off of the bar stool, and picked up Willter’s backpack, swinging it across my shoulder.

My hand swiped the sweat from his forehead, and I slowly pulled away his mask, revealing the mole he had just above his brow, along with a tiny little scar in his buzzed hairline.

“What are you doing?” Ben garbled, smacking his lips, his breath reminiscent of a liquor store in a strip mall.

“I can’t kiss the face of a stranger…” I said. I leaned in, giving him a kiss on the forehead, as a little token of my goodbye.

When I brought my head back up from his face, the lights flickered on, a cheer erupting from everyone in the bar.

Ben smiled before he clocked out again, this time, his face flat on the bar, hiding his true identity.

I fought off the urge to whisper to him something special and maybe a little sappy, but I knew that’d just make it more hard than it already was.

I remembered the first time I’d seen him.

It was my first day of SHIELD Academy, and he was paired with me as my partner. He’d said something funny, I’d said something mean, he said something mean back.

No one had ever told me anything mean. But he had the courage to.

And now I was leaving him. Because I couldn’t bear to say anything mean to him now. When did we change?

I took one final look at his peaceful, beautiful sleeping face before I went back to our room, grabbed the bright toned phone that was sitting on the dresser and dialed a number.

911.

“Yes, the man that was assisting Meredith Coulson is here at the bar in the blacksnake motel. He’s also in possession of a fake ID. He’s in a blue honda civic,” I said quickly, knowing that I’ll be off to the races once I hung up.

Every man for himself. That's what happens in times like these. Piece of advice; don't.

“Alright, we’ll be there soon, just make sure he doesn’t leave, okay?” The operator said just before I left the phone on the dresser.

I immediately pulled open the window, remembering the storm that was raging outside as I slung Ben’s backpack across my shoulders.

Lighting struck and thunder boomed just as I pulled it open, the wind sending a monsoon into the room, sending the curtains flying and soaking the carpet.

It was now, or never.

A simple phrase I’ve said time and time again but never really paid much attention to. It too hard too ignore its significance when I was currently living the now when all I've ever known is never.

It already took me this long to gain the courage to leave, and now I was so close. But how far would I have to go for it to be impossible to go back?

Could I drive a few miles down the road and change my mind? Could I be on a plane and decide to jump out and make things right again?

How many times do I have to make things right until we stay that way?

Questions I asked too late.

Holding the backpack to my chest, I ducked out the window, the rain biting at my face as the wind howled loudly. But I kept walking to where we had left the car, trying to see through the harsh rains.

I found the car through the storm, hopping in and throwing the backpack in the passenger seat, lightning illuminating the inside of the car as I put the key in the transmission, neglecting my seat belt as it had jammed after I pulled it too hard.

This was really happening. It was finally happening. I was on the path to freedom; one well-known to be constantly teetering on the very edges of heaven and hell.

But at least I was getting closer to heaven.

The wailing of sirens began to sound over the rain, and I knew it was time to hit the road. I peeled out of the parking lot, almost losing control of the car to the wet pavement, making my heart beat race in my chest like a steady heavy metal drum.

I took a peak in the rear view mirror, one last time. But I wasn’t able to see much through this rain.

I passed the police on the road, simply gliding right past them, water under my tires spewing up and hitting the side of their cars.

It didn’t take long for guilt to build in my chest, realizing how much he did for me. And how much I took it for granted. And how I treated him even after he sacrificed his entire future for me.

I tried to resist the urge to turn the car around and swoop into the bar and save him, profusely apologize, tie him to me and never let him go. Ever.

Something stopped me.

It was too late. And I know I’ll regret it. It’ll slow me down and mess with my head again and screw everything up just like we always did.

All I could do was pray he’d let me break him out when the time comes. No forgiveness, no closure. Just atonement.

I couldn’t wait for that day. Even if he hated me, I’d still be able to see his face again.

Turning on the radio, his CD began to play. I didn’t know it was still in, but it made me take my mind off of the future and try and focus on the present; wet winding roads and high speed winds that would kill me sooner than any snake or gun.

The CD began to jam, so I bent down a little bit to adjust it, banging on the radio to get it to work again.

I must’ve begun to swerve, because whenever I looked back up, there were headlights shining directly into my windshield, their horns honking repeatedly.

Grabbing hold of the wheel, I attempted to move out of the way, jerking it to the right, forgetting the roads were still slick.

I began to spin out of control, the entire world moving quickly around me, a rush of adrenaline going to my head as I held my breath.

I gripped the steering wheel, hitting the break. But it was too late.

The car flipped, landing sideways against a tree with a crash, sending me barreling around the inside, hitting my head on the top of the car, landing on the glass of the passenger side elbows first.

I blacked out for a few seconds, only regaining consciousness after thunder boomed in the sky, shaking me awake.

My body trembled, my palms feeling warm and moist.

Instantly, I searched for the duffle bag, checking the back seat before the horrible realization came over me.

I landed on the duffle bag.

Another lighting bolt stuck, illuminating the bloody scene.

I pulled the backpack out from under me, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach as I opened the bag fearing for the worst.

My bloody hands stained all over my clothes as I found the t-shirt Ben had wrapped the marionette serum in.

Carefully, I unwrapped it, my vision blurred, the tilted rain beginning to soak the car.

I waited for the lighting to strike again to show me the serum. I prayed it was in one piece.

Lightning struck.

And the serum was gone.

I dug into the backpack once more, searching for Thor’s beeper. Because if that was broken, then all my chances were gone.

I found it.

Or rather, it’s pieces.

Before I could react, the car flipped back on its rightful side, sending me sprawling across the front seats, a sharp pain nagging into my stomach.

Lighting struck again and I could see that a large shard of glass was logged in my abdomen and I was slowly bleeding out from the wound.

Another pain hit me in my neck, a tiny, sharp, needle-like pain.

A pain that I was familiar with.

Tranquilizer dart.

But just before I blacked out, I caught a glimpse of who did it.

Someone I’d only read about on files and heard about all my life, but knew about immediately with just one glance.

A vibranium star was the last thing I saw before I blacked out completely, trying to fight it but ultimately failing as my head slumped against the driver's seat.

The sweet temporary death lured me straight to sleep, dragging me down into its sneaky clutches, completely drowning me into submission.

Chapter Text

₂₀₋₂₀₋₂₀

₀₀₄₉

Chapter Text

I was unconscious, but I felt the impending doom coursing through my nerves as a river that stretched from coast to coast.

I'd never known that was possible.

The worst part; I could only replay leaving Willter in the motel bar. I could only think about his waking hour when he realized I had left.

My mind came up with the worst version of his face. Heartbroken, angry, and disgusted. A little bit like how I felt about myself.

What was I thinking?

A sick feeling came to my stomach and body when I finally awoke. I felt feverish and hazy, my whole body broken out in a cold sweat, the dryness of my mouth making me crave a tall, cold glass of water.

Cold steel dug into my wrists, and I stopped the struggle when I'd realized they were handcuffs. All I was doing was hurting myself the more I tried to break free.

The gray room was covered in an immense fog, everything around me blurred, the slightest bit of light making my head pound.

I could smell a strong cologne that only made my headache spike. It was expensive. Made especially for people who could afford it.

Someone important was in the room.

Immediately, I assumed there must be a heightened security. But I only heard one breath. No feet shuffling. And no smell of baby powder or hair gel. It could be overpowered by the darkly scented cologne.

My senses started coming back stronger, including my hearing.

Hauntingly, the worst noise in the world came from the wall. A clock.

A reminder that I was on limited time, and I didn't have any to spare on getting captured. And I wasn't sure how long I'd been out after... the accident.

The memory of the crash all came flooding back. Mostly the important parts.

Every piece of my plan, foiled and spoiled. The pieces of my prayer. The crushed glass vials of vibrant purple Marionette serum crushed to tiny shards of glass in my hands.

It all flashed through my mind like the lighting last night.

But I couldn't remember anything after. I was awake; then I was no longer awake.

I thrashed against the metal chair, the sound echoing throughout the room as I tried to pull away from the handcuffs again.

"Calm down, Meredith, you'll hurt yourself."

As soon as I heard the voice of the man, I knew immediately who I was dealing with.

"You don't... you have no... nothing... the world... understand it?" I slurred, trying to get a handle on my tongue as I struggled to convey the situation. "Whatever... drug..."

"You should be fine in a few minutes, then we'll talk."

"No no no... I don't have time... the time..." I struggled to focus on the clock, "dad... I have to..."

"It's okay, you've got plenty of time," he said, "trust me."

"You've got the... power... it was you... the bullet," I attempted to say. "He warned me... pawns... assets... not me."

"Your bullet wound has healed already," he assured, "And I didn't make that call."

My vision finally focused and it confirmed who'd I'd expected to be talking to.

"Who?" I asked, my throat dry and breath thick.

He got up, and placed his hands in his pockets, looking over at me with a look of guilt and sadness in his eyes, as if he'd been betrayed.

"No one other than the man that helped raise you..."

My mind immediately went to Fury.

Betrayal seemed to be a constant theme in this game.

"As soon as I'd heard about your ambitions, I was completely on board. I knew you could do it." He paused, "Unfortunately, it was after you'd attempted to rob the weapons transmitter."

I cringed, remembering how I'd fallen from grace on that day.

"You did good."

"That's a lot coming from Alexander Pierce," I said, my thoughts finally becoming coherent. "But I have to ask myself, do I really trust your judgment if you thought that circus show was good?"

The secretary laughed, "You weren't perfect, but you fought off a whole team of highly trained agents with a bullet in your leg. That's guts. And raw talent."

"I've done it before, and better," I whispered, "And it's not talent. I trained hard for that skill and I'd appreciate that credit."

"Of course, forgive me," he said, a sly smile on his face, the same one that scared me when I was a kid. All the dark memories of all the nightmares I'd had about him came flooding back.

Consciously, I never feared him outright. I'd shake his hand and exchange pleasantries, and even gift him on his birthday. But the nightmares I've had since I was five about him instructing people to hurt me to make me stronger told another story.

He'd tell me I couldn't fight back. And I'd have to let it happen.

But it was just a nightmare. Or at least I had to tell myself whenever I realized the correlations it had with reality.

A single light flickered from overhead, and Pierce still paced the room with his watched wrist in the pocket of his black pinstripe suit.

"You say you support me, but you've still got me captured here- why?"

"To talk and to help. You want help, right?" He asked, gazing at me up and down, his eyes stabbing through me, as if to dissect me.

"I'm perfectly fine on my own, it's just convenient to have someone else do it for me," I said, waiting for him to look away.

The tone of the room seemed to switch after I had spoken. Maybe it was the building tension, the mystery, the circumstance, but it wasn't the same as it had been before. The atmosphere got tense with anticipation as I waited for Pierce to speak again.

"The handcuffs." He enticed, "You can get by? Prove it."

My fingers broke off the handcuffs, just as I'd been taught by SHIELD during my very first week of training. It being one of the first things I'd learned, it wasn't hard.

I held up my wrists in victory, and stretched them out, pulling at my fingertips to bend it back. "I can."

Crossing his legs, he sat down in the chair across from me, staring me down as I threw the handcuffs onto the silver metal table.

The little to-no reaction only made me more satisfied. Like he was unimpressed. And that meant that the challenge to impress him was on.

Was it to anger me? Did he want me to snap? Because he's about...

I looked at the clock, trying to estimate how long I'd been out. The clock read 7:42.

"What about the beeper? I think you've already found that it's been broken to pieces in your accident. And your mind control serum you stole from SHIELD? Broken. Ruined your socks. They were nice socks too, it's such a shame."

My eyes strayed to the darkest corner of the room, and I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.

"So what? You're just going to swoop in and save me?" I ask. "I only accept saviors by invitation."

"Phil Coulson, is that you?" He chuckled. Did he think this was a joke?

"Alexander, I'd like you to know something before I go any further," I said, placing my hands, folded, on the table, leaning in closer to him, "You created the monster that will have no problem killing you to get that beeper."

I'd admit, it may have been a little much. But it was the truth.

And if I ever wanted to actually get anywhere quick, things are going to get a bit much.

"Oh don't worry, I fully intend on giving it to you."

My shock stayed on the inside as I raised an eyebrow at him. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

"A fake one, I'm sure. I'm used to this game by now," I say, leaning back in the metal chair, tilting my chin up at him.

"A real one," he corrected, his right eyebrow slightly raising as he shifted his jaw.

"Why?" I asked, with the intention of wanting to know absolutely everything he knew at this very moment.

"Because I'm rooting for you, Meredith," He answered simply. "Some things you won't understand for a long time, but understand this. I loved Coulson. He was a great man, and a legendary agent. He deserves for his honor to be preserved, and I know you're just the one to do it."

"So you understand," I said, feeling relieved as I lightly shook my head.

"Of course I understand. But, lots of people here don't. They're not like us, they won't ever understand our pain. I was able to avenge someone close to me, and that feeling is so fulfilling." He said, "It's been a nice sight to see you grow up and become such a strong force. I want nothing but the best for you, so that feeling I felt should be something you're able to feel."

My brain almost couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

He was blatantly encouraging me. It was the most validation I had in a long time and it felt great.

What feeling? "Victory?"

"Power." He answered in a low mummer that sent a shiver up my spine.

I smiled.

"So then how about you get me out of here and help me fulfill my..." I glanced at the gray ceiling, licking my lips, "destiny?"

"I can't just let you go through these gates," He said, and I felt my hopes let down again. "You're going to have to run. I'll let you get away, but I can't guarantee these other guys will. They might not like me setting a criminal free. When you get out, your car should be in plain sight. I'll meet you, alone. There'll be a map in your car."

His instructions registered in my brain as if it were another mission. Just like old times.

Some missions aren't like the others. And this one felt like the one where I'd saved the first lady from the assassination attempt.

Exciting. New. Fresh.

Even though my bones still ached, I felt as if I had a fresh new soul. Inspiration. Life.

Until I realized a vital key to the situation.

"You're telling me all of this under surveillance cameras and-" I waved at the mirror to my left with a smile, "double sided glass, Mr. Secretary."

"Don't worry- they're on our side."

"But why would you need to be there?" I asked a second question.

"Since your mind control serum unfortunately has broken and we can't get our hands on any more, he may need some convincing. And I have something for him that I know he won't be able to resist."

I picked at my fingernails, realizing that it was real. I was going to go to Asgard. The planet from the books I'd used to read when I was a kid.

Picking too hard, my thumb began to leak red, trickling down my finger.

"You know, I believe you have it in you to get your revenge. You just need a little help."

I laughed to myself. "I know the power of teamwork. The only reason I've gotten this far is because of Ben Willter."

"Ben Willter is a good kid." He paused, "It's a shame what happened to him."

My body jolted out of the chair, and it fell to the ground with a loud crash. I reached over the table, grabbing Pierce by his collar.

"Where is he?" I asked, as he simply looked up at me with fear, "What happened?!"

Alexander was shocked, his eyes glazed with fear. "He-he... He was arrested. Someone saw him at the motel."

My memory came flooding back as I remembered it had been me who'd seen him.

Dropping him, I paced the floor, knees a little soft as they shifted under my skin.

"Alright." I said, "You want to be partners? Let's do it."

"Meredith, you can't possibly understand how glad I am to hear that right now. You've made the right choice," he said, straightening his collar.

Pierce explained the details of the plan, but then added, "but I can't help you fight. You've got to fend for yourself. I'm just assisting the getaway."

"I'm completely capable of getting away on my own, but I appreciate it," I said, as he walked out of the interrogation room.

My eyes found and looked directly into the security camera, amused that I was being watched. A red dot blinked from the camera every 2.4 seconds.

The director had told me to stay in the interrogation room until 4 minutes had passed from when he left, and that the door wouldn't be unlocked.

I'd have to break it open myself.

Chapter Text

"How on earth did he get me to Louisiana so quickly? Why Louisiana?"

All of the questions were quickly squashed, as they were largely overshadowed by the task at hand; Getting to Pierce.

While I drove towards the red circle, through the rural highway that was accompanied by cows and sugar cane fields, I recapped everything Pierce had told me.

Power. Destiny. Honor. Only one of those things were accurate.

He didn't seem to understand that I wasn't doing this for power. As good as it sounded to watch a god crumple at my feet with his heart in my hand, I wasn't doing it for myself. I was doing it for Dad.

I was doing this for his honor.

And I didn't care what happened after, I didn't care who helped me, and I don't care about anyone but Loki.

I cared about watching the life drain from his face after stabbing him through the heart, just like he did to my Dad.

Teach him and all the other gods who love to slaughter the innocent for fun a very important lesson. Eventually, you're going to kill someone very special to someone very powerful, and you will be trampled under their feet before you can even meaninglessly plead for mercy.

Using the map Pierce gave me, I drove the road directed, and then through a dead end road.

Tall oak trees with moss hanging on them like tinsel shading the bright half moon on the dead end road. Even though October was months ago, I felt the same feeling I had on the 31st.

Crickets filled the empty sound immediately after I stepped out of the car, swinging my bag over my shoulder, along with my sword.

An empty field hid behind two or three trees, and I could see a large, white, private airplane alongside a black SUV.

I looked down to find my pockets, wanting to stick my hand in them, when I caught a glimpse of my mended pants.

My wound was probably already healed by now, due to the craft enhanced soldier drug that's been in my body since I was born. Or at least that's what we assume.

But just because the wound is gone doesn't mean I never bled.

"Glad to see you made it," Pierce greeted, shaking my hand as soon as he saw me creep out from behind the trees.

I snickered. "Barely."

"Like I said, not all of them were on our side," He recalled, gesturing for me to go first on the steps to the plane.

We both sat down on fancy tan plane seats next to a round bar, right across from each other.

My mind could barely comprehend that Alexander Pierce, THE Undersecretary of SHIELD and the World Security Council was helping me.

Which led to many more questions. But to put it simply, why?

"You know, Meredith, you have a higher clearance than the Avengers?" He said, taking a sip from his champagne glass that had just been poured for him, setting it on the table.

"I know," I said, casually. I've been doing this for 13 years, so except for Natasha, I've been at this game longer than any of them. I better be a higher clearance than them. "But, I think you mean had. I quit."

"Well, don't count yourself out yet. If you complete this mission, I think I have other opportunities for you that are less restrictive," Pierce mentioned.

"Hm, well, that depends on what happens up there," I said, playing with the hilt of my sword.

"You'll figure out a way. But... I think you're onto me by now, aren't you?" Pierce said, resting his finger on his jawline.

The plane began to take off with a slight bit of turbulence, Pierce's champagne falling from the table and spilling on my shoes.

"Only if you successfully get me to Asgard, then I will do whatever you want me to. But you should keep in mind that my top priority will be killing Loki."

"There's this... thing. Excuse my terminology, but the truth is, we haven't got the faintest idea what it is. It's called the tesseract. It holds great mysterious power, and I think it could be the key to unlocking your powers," He said, stunning me.

"What?" I asked, dropping my sword onto the wooden floor.

"We were able to trace the markers in your genes back to some mysterious power source of the same kind. So if you bring me the tesseract, we can figure out how. And we can make sure it doesn't happen ever again," he said.

Was this real? Could I really find... the whole basis of my existence? How'd I get so close so soon? What will I do when I find out?

"Oh..." I gasped, still in shock, my body completely still as my heart jumped out of my chest.

When a 6 month old is able to break a human finger with just a squeeze, that usually means that they've been granted superhuman powers.

For a while after Captain Marvel had touched down to earth, the idea was tossed around that I could be an alien that somehow ended up here. But through saliva and blood tests, scientists were able to confirm that I was in fact human.

It's an incredibly dehumanizing thing to know that people pondered whether or not you were human. How could that have affected the mind of a young girl? People prodding her and telling her she's could be fundamentally more different than she already was.

And now- I could have answers.

It may seem like no big deal, but I could feel like I finally had control over what I didn't have a say in. Instead of being controlled, I could control it. I could have the power of my own body for once.

Just to hold the tesseract in my hand and lock it away for eternity so that way it cannot control anyone else ever again is all the power I could ever ask for.

Just to have a set in stone answer. Or maybe even to simply rule out a possibility was plenty.

And I could almost touch it. It was so close. And I hadn't even known it all this time.

All this time. All this time the tesseract had been in possession of SHIELD. Why are they finding this out just now?

"This would be fine news if there were flaws in your story. We've had the tesseract for a very long time, haven't we? Why are you figuring this out just now?"

"Since you are no longer an Agent, I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to tell you that 9 months before you were born, the tesseract had been stolen."

"That is... important," I said, shocked at the completely new information. "And it was returned?"

"No. We found you due to a tip that you had been given to us anonymously regarding its whereabouts," Pierce admitted.

"And you never told me that it was a possibility?" I asked, feeling my anger rise.

"We had no idea what the tesseract was capable of until quite recently. And the tesseract was never found with you, so we ruled it out as a possibility and it was returned a few months later."

"Why wasn't this in my file?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Because it was for a Level 9 clearance level. We couldn't," He answered, taking another sip of his glass.

I said nothing more. I was too angry too. I feared that if I show too much anger, he will no longer want to help me.

But I did know that maybe breaking away from SHIELD was the right choice.

"Two birds, one stone," He said, gazing out the window at the dark blue midnight sky, the stars making my heart yearn and ache for Ben.

The pressure of regret crept up on me, despite having received some of the biggest news of my life, he was still all around me.

"So. I get the tesseract to you, and you can... make sure no one else gets experimented on with it?" I asked, trying my best to avoid looking at the sky.

"If that's what caused your powers. There's still a chance that it isn't, unfortunately, but there's still a great chance that it is. Does that make sense?"

I nodded my head.

"Still, it is amazing news."

"It's the best news of my life... But I'm not sure I can even pull this off," I said, wondering how I could possibly find the tesseract and kill Loki and be back in time for the funeral.

"You know, that's what happens when someone strong has been controlled for too long. You should've been able to pull this off without anyone telling you that you shouldn't or couldn't. And look at what it's done to you. It's taken away your confidence."

I stared at him, and he stared back at me.

"You have all the power they decided to give you," He said, "but they drew a line. Lines don't exist with the kind of power you're searching for."

"I wasn't really searching for power, I'm preserving his honor," I said. "The control of my powers is just a great addition."

"You'll find out what I mean when you drive that excellent weapon of yours through his heart," He said, admiring my sword.

"I had to trade something really special to me for it," I sighed, giving up on trying to get him to understand that power is entirely irrelevant to my revenge.

"I think that's great, it shows that you're really committed, I like that."

"Thanks, that uh, means a lot, coming from you," I stashed the sword back in my bag, which was really Ben's bag, where I discovered that my holster was salvaged,

"Pierce, this is going to sound crazy," I began, remembering what I had seen at the black-smiths, "but members of HYDRA are still out there. I got my sword from one."

"Oh, I'm sure," He said, catching me off-guard. "Societies like that don't just fizzle out, they start their own empires, or infect others."

"Infect others? Other governments?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, "Maybe, but we shouldn't worry about it too much, because I don't see any threats currently at our throats, do you?"

"No... But there could be one," I said, my breathing heavy in my chest as I tried to grapple with the concept.

"I haven't told anyone this yet," He said, looking deep into my eyes, almost making me uncomfortable, "But to be honest, I think you're right. Threats can be anywhere, or anyone."

"You know, by the way you're looking in my eyes, I'd think you were talking about me."

He laughed, "No, no, you're no threat to me, but you are to some people."

"All of the American Government, general public, and law enforcement?" I asked, pointing out the obvious.

"It's unfortunate for someone with two Medals of Honor to have them against you."

"You'd think that they'd support someone searching for honor, with the badges and all. I guess it's only honorable when it benefits their image."

"Do you believe that those badges meant anything?"

"I made my Dad proud. That's what gave them meaning."

"Ever since I'd known you, that's been what you've been obsessed with. It amazed me, truly. You lived for those words."

I took a deep breath, taking a glance out of the window. "He gave me a home. A nice bed. Strong shoulders to lean on. Someone to look up to. A positive figure. I guess I owed it to him."

"You don't owe anyone anything." He said, my head slowly turning to look at him.

He was completely wrong.

I did have debts to people.

"What about you?" I asked, turning the conversation around.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I mean, do you owe anyone anything?"

"Some people would suggest I owe it to my professors in college, for teaching me the things I needed to get to where I am today, but I don't. I did the learning, I did the work, I owe it to myself."

"But why did you do the work?"

"I've already told you."

The neurons in my mind fired, but I couldn't piece it together. I pretended to understand, but really, I was thinking about what he meant.

Thankfully, I had another question in my mind.

"What day is it?" I asked after a few moments of silence.

"It's Wednesday evening, about 3:30 PM. We should be in New Mexico at about 5. This is one my fastest jets."

My heart dropped. I only had one day to gain Thor's trust, find Loki's cell, if they even put him in one, he is their son after all, and also find the tesseract.

"You seem worried," He said after my composure changed.

"I am. My Dad's funeral is soon."

"You want to go to his funeral? Meredith," he chuckled slightly, "people like you don't need funerals to mourn."

"I need to be there to make sure everyone knows that his honor was preserved. And, I have some apologizing to do."

"Apologize for what?"

"That something I told you about," I said, running my thumb across the hilt of my sword.

In some miraculous coincidence, the very tip of the handle was also a globe. Like it was made for me. It brought comfort to look at it, but all at the same time, I felt a twinge of pain.

My father's necklace was lost.

Unless I go back to the speakeasy and tear it apart until I find it, but chances are, that's already been done by the police.

"Ah, the necklace."

Quickly, I picked my head up in surprise. "How'd you know?"

"Don't look so calm, Meredith," He joked. "I just happen to know about it, that's all."

"No, that's stupid, how did you know about the necklace?" I demanded, my hand reaching for the necklace that was no longer there.

"Everyone knows about that necklace of yours, it's a staple. You're always touching it or looking at it. But whatever you do, don't even dare to ask about it."

"It's pretty easy to put it together."

"Well, there were a lot of rumors. Maybe it was something your parents had given you before SHIELD found you. Or that it was something that gave you your strength. My personal favorite, it was something you took from the first person you've ever killed."

Unconsciously, I took a deep breath, adjusting my legs to a cross position.

You'd think you'd get used to knowing you've killed.

Justifiably, I've only killed bad people. People who deserve to be punished accordingly for their crimes.

"It was a gift from my Dad. He'd given it to me when I decided to start training,." I said, leaving out the fact that it could play music, specifically the lullabye he'd sing to me every night before bed.

"So the mystery is solved."

"A stupid mystery, really. You'd think they'd focus more on the fact that I can lift cars and sprint at 48 miles an hour," I laughed, getting a kick out of the fact that people really thought those things.

It was just a necklace. It didn't have any special powers or meaning. It was just personally special. Not supernaturally.

"Only 48 miles an hour?"

"Everytime I think you're about to say something relatively normal, I'm surprised again," I say.

Never had anyone said "only" to me.

Except for him.

I didn't like it.

"I'm impressed, really, but I'm sure you could do better."

"Same here, Pierce, same here," I said. "But no one except for my trainers have said that."

"I wonder why."

We stopped talking after that, and sat in silence for an hour. We landed, and stepped off the plane, right in front of the site where the hammer was first found.

And first investigated by my Dad.

Who could've guessed he was opening up the gateway for his own death?

Chapter Text

"I'm wasting time, Pierce," I said, tapping my foot in anticipation on New Mexico dirt.

"You've got plenty of time, Meredith, stop underestimating yourself," He said, pulling a beeper from his pocket. "It's unbecoming."

Seeing the real one made me realize how fake mine actually was. I felt a little embarrassed. Fortunately I had a good excuse; I was in a rush.

Which, I never should have been in the first place. Maybe if I had given myself more time, I could've saved myself the struggle.

I could've saved myself from having to call on Willter for help.

Pierce handed me the beeper. "Here. You get to do the honors."

"How do you think I'll get back?" I asked, looking at it in my hands.

It had the same modifications of Captain Marvel's, but instead of her star and chevron lines, there was a hammer with tiny lighting strikes.

Motorola Memo Express.

₁₁₈₂. ₀₂₀₂₀₂.

It was clear plastic, and you could see the inner workings of the device.

In my scared and dirty mortal hands, I held a homing signal to a god. Almost like a prayer.

"I'm sure you'll find a way, you always have, and you always will, no doubt," he said, slapping my shoulder.

After everything these past few days, it really didn't seem like that was the case.

But, I did break out of that SHIELD faculty. Even if it was one of the smallest.

"I also hear that the tesseract has teleportation powers. Isn't that lucky?"

"That sounds fake," I said. "It'd be too easy."

"Whenever I get back, what's going to happen to me?" I asked, knowing the answer, but hoping Pierce would fix it.

"Well, I'll see what I can do about getting you out of jail time, but the rest is up to you." he said, "Now beep that beeper, girl."

This was it.

In a few moments, Thor would pick me up, and bring me to Asgard.

The more I thought about it, the more unreal it became.

It seemed like only yesterday we had gotten the mission report back from New Mexico and discovered that Norse mythology was very much not a myth.

And now, after almost a week of boy purest blood sweat and tears being spilt, I had finally made it.

My thumb grazed the button, and I took a deep breath as I put my heart into the press.

I pressed it.

Right now, he was on his way, speeding through several million light years to reach me. Right now.

Right now.

Unfortunately, I was far from the truth.

About two minutes of breaking a sweat, nervous to see him, I realized we'd been waiting for longer than I anticipated.

"He must be a little caught up." Pierce said.

For some reason, I started to grow suspicious.

We waited for a few more minutes, and I turned to him.

"Did you set me up?"

"No! The beeper doesn't work that quick. The signal could take hours, or days."

My heart sank to my feet.

Hours? Days? Weeks?

It more and more sense the more I thought about it. A tiny signal would take a considerable amount of time to get thousands of light years.

But the signal expander connected was a lot newer than Captain Marvel's, so maybe it would only take a few more minutes.

"If you'd like, I could postpone your father's funeral, I understand how much that means to you."

"It does mean a lot to me, thank you for the observation, Pierce."

"You feel stupid, don't you?" He asked, placing his hands on his hips. "You didn't take into account how long it would take."

"I didn't."

"Thankfully for you, I-"

A warm blast of air hit me in the face and I stumbled to the ground, my feet flying out from underneath me, the warm blast becoming more and more hot as it lasted for what seemed forever.

Relief filled my lungs at the sight of a tall, blonde, muscular, hammer wielding hero of New York standing in the middle of the ritualistic pattern burned into the dust on the ground, the setting sun right behind him, the rays making it seem as if he was glowing.

"Pray tell, fair maiden, where is the danger?" He asked, and it seemed to slip my mind he said anything as I stared in disbelief, eyebrows furrowed.

I expected Pierce to answer. Pierce.

Searching for Pierce, I saw him stumbling up from the dust, shaking the sand from his hair.

"There's no danger," I said, remembering he was still standing there.

He was standing there.

There. My gateway. My answered prayer.

"Why have you called for me on this device? I have duties in Asgard, I cannot have foolish little girls like you calling me for your entertainment." He scolded. "If that is what you intended."

"First of all-" I said, stepping up to him, and making a gesture from my forehead to his, repeatedly, the line being perfectly even, "don't be too harsh on yourself. Second of all-"

"What my Agent means to say," Pierce stepped in between us, "is that she's been put on assignment, by me, to document Asgard for SHIELD and take note of any potential threats, so that way we can be prepared if potential becomes present."

"That was not what I was going to say," I said, shaking my head.

"You are SHIELD?" He asked, pointing with his free hand.

I nodded my head this time.

"Well, I suppose it is a fine idea, especially since the havoc my brother caused, it would seem we owed it to you," He said, his train of thought being presented for us.

Everything was falling into place.

It was almost too perfect.

I felt my hand rest on my sword, just in case.

"But my father would not allow it."

Ah, there it was.

"He doesn't have to know, and if he does, I'm sure you could reason with him, after all, you are his son. You just let him know that we mean no harm," Pierce said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "And I can promise you, she'll take less than a day."

My eyes darted from Thor to Pierce, jaw set. The pressure was on now.

"And if you need more convincing..." Pierce inquired, "We'll give Jane a grant of 100,000 dollars to do whatever research she'd like. Anything she'd ever need, we'll supply it, no questions asked. She's got an extraordinary mind, it'd be a shame if it went to waste because she didn't have the right resources."

"You make an excellent point," he said, suddenly having a change of heart, "I don't recall us meeting during New York."

"I was busy with all of the technical things, Fury was more the man for Alien Invasions. Secretary Alexander Pierce."

Thor took a pause, "And you?"

He gestured to me, and I took a quick glance at Pierce before answering, "Meredith Wayne."

"Meredith," He repeated, "We should move with haste, I must get back to a revel, we are celebrating victory over the nine realms. You may want to jot that down."

I smiled at the suggestion, "I will. It was requested that I use Asgardian paper."

He held out his hand, and I gratefully took it delicately, careful not to squeeze too hard from the excitement running through my veins.

Quickly, he pulled me in closer, and I held on tight.

"Heimdall!" He yelled out, and I felt a warm rush over my body.

Warm air cascaded over my body, lifting me from the ground before I could even understand what was about to happen.

Colorful lights surrounded us as I watched the universe go by. Stars, novas, galaxies, planets passed in the blink of an eye as we rushed through the magical tunnel.

I wish Ben could've been here to see it. If only I didn't leave him, maybe he could've. One day I'll take him to see the stars, if only he'll let me.

A smile spread across my face as he held on tighter. I never really did care for the visual appeal of men, and Thor was no exception.

But I'd be lying if I said he wasn't as drop dead gorgeous as my dad said he was.

It all went by too quickly, because before I knew it, I rolled and landed skillfully onto what seemed to be solid gold flooring, my reflection staring back at me.

My sword made a fresh clank onto the floor, falling out of my holster.

"Nice sword," A tall man with an incredibly extravagant pointy gold headdress said from the top of a large, also gold pedestal. He also held a sword of gold.

I took in the gorgeous surroundings, ignoring the man.

"Heimdall, you mustn't tell allfather. She is with SHIELD, and she means no harm. She'll be gone by tomorrow," He assured, stepping in front of me, his red cape flowing behind him.

"As long as you promise she doesn't bring any trouble, I can allow it. But only for you," He said, not looking at Thor.

"Thank you, Heimdall, truely."

I almost felt bad that I was about to kill his brother, afterall, he'd been so gracious to me these past few minutes.

But actions have grave consequences that not only affect you, but affect other people. I would be sure to let him know how sad Thor will be, and that he may be next if he decides to fight back.

"I need to find a disguise," I said, pulling at my gray turtleneck I had put on at the motel. I was also wearing my baggy suit pants, something Asgardians don't usually wear.

"You are right. Give me a few moments and I'll find something around here somewhere," Thor said, walking out onto the rainbow bridge that stretched at least a mile. Below it was a lake of water, or perhaps more realistically for a magical planet, eternal fog.

He spun his hammer, using it to gain momentum to pull him through the sky at a high speed.

"Who are you?" I asked, walking up onto the golden pedestal where the man who'd seemingly brought us here stood alert.

I felt goosebumps sprout from my arms when I noticed his irises were an unmistakable yellow. I wanted to look away, but I just couldn't. They were incredibly captivating.

"I am Heimdall, the gatekeeper of Asgard," He said, meeting my eyes.

"I'm Meredith," I said, and along with me he said my name.

"Hm," I said, my eyebrows pressed together. "How'd you do that?"

"I've been watching Thor ever since he was called to Asgard. I am all-seeing to what I choose," He said, his eyes not leaving contact with mine. "It isn't very handy when I am suspicious of people like you. I can only see the present."

He answered the question I didn't even know I had.

"You don't have to worry about me, friend. I mean no trouble, whatsoever," I said, smiling.

"We are not friends."

"It's just a nice thing to say," I clarified, shrugging my shoulders. "You seem to be a very good friend... Are you?"

"Only people I trust."

I let out a snort, shaking my head while I put my sword back in my holster.

Heimdall said nothing, and Thor returned within a few minutes, a piece of clothing bundled in his arms.

"Here, you may wear this cloak to cover your midgardian clothes until I can find you something to fit better," he said, smiling.

"Alright, let's get to work," I said, the heavy dark green velvet soaring with a whoosh as I threw it around my shoulders, buttoning the golden clasp around my shoulders.

"Yes, I'm sure there's much to be done, and in only a day," He said, "you must feel quite pressured."

"Not really, pressure is my speciality."

I took one final look at it. I felt Heimdall staring, and when I met his eye, he didn't look away, his face unmoving and unreadable as I followed Thor out of the dome and onto the iridescent rainbow bridge.

I'd have to be sneaky and quick, or else I'd have a man straight from my nightmares hunting me.

But if I can kill Loki, I can kill some guy with an eye disease.

"We need to find a way to sneak you in," Thor said, his pace stable as we walked across the bridge. "The great halls are currently hosting a very large party, you will be seen as soon as you enter and it will not end well for you."

A castle began to come into view, about a hundred tall spires stretching into a single point, made entirely out of gold.

I wondered if gold was a common metal here.

The architecture reminded me of a shell, long turrets stretching at least a mile or two into the air. It sat in the middle of a mountain range, surrounded by water.

Each chunk of earth sticking out from the sea held large golden structures, all of them arching or spiraling in some way, reaching far into the sky, as vast as the eye could see.

It would be almost impossible to get to somewhere safe without running into someone.

"I will bring you to the far side of the castle, where I will slip back in. People will become suspicious if they find I've been missing," he said.

"I can find my way in after that," I said, "I'm very good at stealth."

"As I suspected. But how might you find your way around? Many of mothers ladies-in-waiting still find themselves lost in the vast halls of Valaskjalf," he asked.

"It shouldn't be too hard," I said. "If I get lost... I'll just get un-lost. But if you never tell me where to hide, then I will be lost."

"We have countless rooms, if you can just find one, vacant one, then I'm sure you will be well hidden enough until the morning. But it is one of our most heavily guarded areas, so I will draw them out while you are searching."

"How will you do that?" I asked, gazing out at the eternal fog.

"Perhaps invite them to join the festivities in the great hall- which you should avoid at all costs," he warned as we approached the entrance to the city of Asgard, 7 gold arches hung over the rainbow bridge, a large golden statue in between each of them.

"I will bring you to the underground entrance, through the escape tunnels, there you will find a stairway leading up towards the west wing, where our vacant bedroom chambers will be. As long as you continue going west, you will do just fine," He ordered. "And stay out of view of the Guards."

"Don't worry too much about the guards- I could probably best Captain America in a fist fight, I think I can handle it if one or two of them see me."

"Please do not engage with them, I will already be in heaps of trouble if he finds out," he cautioned.

"Alright- but be warned, if I must, I will," I said.

I could see someone coming towards us, panicking due to the lack of hiding spots. I was about to break one of the rules within a few minutes of being here.

Before I could consult Thor, he grabbed me by my waist and jumped from the side of the bridge.

I let out a yelp as he barreled toward what was now evident to be water, which wasn't as bad as eternal fog, but I was still free falling through the air with no way to stop it.

We didn't hit the water for a suspiciously long time, my muscles tired from the excessive clenching, and I soon realized that Thor was now using his hammer to pull us through the sky, towards the castle.

He maneuvered us through the rocky cliffs below the city, giving me a view of how vast the architecture really was, whenever his hair wasn't in my face.

It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I mean, when else are you going to get a mouth full of Thor's hair?

I breathed in the Asgardian air, the feeling of the wind in my hair giving me some illusion of freedom and gratitude for living as I took in the sights of the universe, the stars perfectly visible.

Finally, we landed on one of the mountain cliffs behind the city, in the thick of the woods, about 3 miles out from the nearest structure.

A single lantern illuminated the forest, lighting bugs flickering in and out of view in front of a wooden door, a single square cut out with iron bars over it.

Thor took the lantern from the outside of the door, handing it to me. "I must return now. Avoid anywhere that is not the East wing, do you understand?"

"I understand," I said, taking the lantern.

"I bid you good luck," He said, using his hammer again to fly off and rejoin the festivities.

Lantern in hand, I walked through the woods of Asgard toward the door that was partially overtaken by ivy.

Walking through the trees, I realized they weren't like any other tree I'd ever seen. These were native to Asgard.

I knew that I needed to make the lie more believable, and that Heimdall was watching me, so I picked some leaves from the trees, along with a piece of bark.

"Fascinating," I said aloud, a real smirk spread across my face, knowing that I was really fooling him.

I continued walking, and my lantern light lit up the door as I slowly approached it, pulling away the ivy to open the door.

The hinges creaked as I walked into the dark cobwebbed hallway, dirt covering what appeared to be clay bricks, regular and exceedingly more unexciting than the rest of Asgard.

I closed the door behind me, sending an echo through the arched tunnel that didn't seem to end for miles upon miles.

My cloak billowed behind me as I kept a quick and steady pace through the same walls for almost a mile.

I wondered when it would end too early, my patience being tested with each and every step that it continued, my breathing beginning to quicken.

And just when I started to believe that someone may really have been calling my name, the hallway ended, a wooden ladder leading upwards to some sort of hatch in the floor.

My hands gripped tightly to the ladder as I slowly opened it up to make sure there were no guards.

The coast was clear, so I pulled myself out of the hole and onto the marble flooring of the bedroom, which appeared to be vacant.

I closed the wooden hatch and covered it back up with the rug, cracking my neck with a sigh before I turned around.

My breath was snatched from my lungs, as if I'd been punched in the gut.

A woman with long blonde curly hair stared back at me, sword drawn.

"Who are you?"

Chapter Text

I turned away from the door.

No matter how destructive I was feeling, I still had some self-control left in me. And I think I just used it. Next time I get an urge to go mad, I won’t be able to resist it.

Instead of prowling the halls for the dungeons, I decided it was best to get some sleep. And perhaps a bath.

When I woke up, I fought the urge to turn over and sleep for five more hours. The bed was perfect. Soft enough to keep me asleep, but hard enough to keep me comfortable.

The amount of pillows and blankets that dressed the canopy bed were too many to count, and the golden toned sheets were made from one hundred percent silk, or perhaps the Asgardian version, keeping my hair nice and smooth.

Even though I could sleep for much longer, I realized I didn’t have time for that, as Dad’s funeral was tomorrow, meaning Loki needs to be dead by tonight.

And Thor couldn’t know that I’d killed him, as I needed a way to get back just in case the tesseract didn’t have the teleportation powers Pierce said it had.

Alternatively, I should ask Thor to show me the tesseract, then the dungeon, kill Loki, escape Thor, worst case scenario kill him, because why not add “murdered an avenger” to my list of crimes, go back to the tesseract, steal it, and hope for the very best.

I groaned internally when I realized that Hiemdall would probably be watching me.

I threw on a robe that I found draped across the red velvet sofa, and threw open the doors to the balcony, taking in the dawn’s air. Even though I was here for one reason, it couldn’t be considered wrong to take it in a bit while I could.

The sun hadn’t yet come up, but I could tell by the few warriors in the courtyard training grounds that it was the morning.

According to the watch I found in Ben’s backpack last night before I went to bed, it had been 3:00 am before I went to sleep. But that was eastern time.

On the clock on the wall, it was 8:00 AM. And the clock read 4:00 AM before I went to sleep.

Ben’s watch now said 12:00 AM. Meaning I had more than enough time until 4:00 PM.

The balcony was relatively close to the ground, and my red robe seemed to catch the eye of one of the warriors. He turned to a brown haired woman, elbowing her. I slipped back into my room before she could see me.

A knock echoed throughout the large room, and I felt my robe flow behind me as I rushed to open it.

“Goodmorning,” Thor said. “The plans have changed.”

“What?” I asked, pulling the rope tighter around me.

“After you went to bed, I visited Heimdall,” he explained, in a stern tone, “he claimed that he could not see Jane anymore. When I went to check on her, it seemed she contracted the Aether.”

“I don’t really care- what are you getting at?”

“This is important, as SHIELD may want to know about this and prepare, for disaster,”

I took a deep breath, regaining my composure, and my alter ego.

“I’ll need the specifics,” I said, turning around and grabbing the satchel, sitting down on the floor and pulling out a scroll, my long robe that I had found in the wardrobe falling like spilled paint onto the marble floor.

“The convergence,” he said, “the nine realms will align, and open up portals, or gateways, to each other.”

“Sounds serious,” I responded, writing it down.

“I cannot tell if your intentions are genuine- are you truly concerned for Asgard?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “Mornings aren’t really the best time of day for me.”

“My apologies, but I think I must let my dear friend continue your tour, as I’ll be preoccupied with Jane.”

So much for being vulnerable.

“Your friends sound loyal. I assume they don’t care about the possible consequences?”

“They are the most loyal to me than anyone else in this entire kingdom, they should take good care of you, and maybe further explain the convergence,” he said, interrupted by a knock.

“Your highness, Jane Foster requests you,” A handmaiden said, giving me a tiny nod before leaving.

“Wait here until my friends retrieve you. I’ve given them instructions on where you need to go,” he said. “I bid thee good luck.”

“I think you’ll need it more,” I said, packing back up the scrolls.

After Thor left, I changed into the golden chestplate and deep blue robe that was embellished with beautiful gold accents.

My hair, now being clean, was braided and pulled into a bun, out of my way. With the exception of a few hairs.

Thor had also given me a very helpful sword holster, which I started strapping on- until I was interrupted with a knock.

“Hello-” greeted the unlikely group in union.

“Uh, hey,” I said, sticking my sword in the holster.

“Are you ready to see the magical kingdom of Asgard?” Asked the redhead, cheerfully, his mustache curling up as he smiled brightly.

“Just let me grab my scrolls,” I said, and they all came in after I walked away, following me like ducks to a hen.

They all looked around nonchalantly, their hands all collapsed neatly behind their back.

“What?” I asked, securing my bag on my shoulder.

“Nothing at all my dear-” a burly man with a long beard assured, a grin on his face, that was somewhat reminiscent of the mall santas I used to visit during Christmas.

I nodded, my eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. “Mhmm hm.”

“Before Thor told us who you really were- rumors were spread that you were his… secret courtship,” The only woman of the group said, blatantly. “Is that so?”

“Oh no, not at all,” I laughed, and she led me out the door.

“I believed it, and I’m sure everyone in the kingdom knows about you now, but never in the way you’d want them too- unfortunately,” The redhead said.

“Well then allow me to introduce myself,” I said, and we stopped right outside the door, “My name is Meredith Wayne, I’m a SHIELD Agent, and I’m here to survey the area for potential threats and to gain more knowledge about outside worlds to better our own societies.”

“My name, fair lady, is Fandrall,” the red head said, kissing my hand.

“I am Volstagg,” the burly man spoke while Fandral was still staring uncomfortably into my eyes, like a Disney prince that lacked character development.

Turning to the woman, who had the same curly hair as me, I asked for her name.

“Lady Sif,” she said, placing a fist over her heart.

I couldn’t help but notice that Lady Sif had some of my features. Dark black curly hair, brown eyes, strong cheekbones, but that was where the similarities ended. She was also tall, but I still stood four inches over her.

“Who’s the leader?” I asked, playfully as they led me out the door, Sif by my side.

“Don’t worry- they all know it’s me.” She smiled, “It’s quite pointless to tease.”

“I could tell,” I said, impressed. If I wasn’t about to betray her trust within the next day, I think we could’ve actually been good friends.

They led me down the hall and down a staircase lit by candle light.

Usually, I’m not caught in delusions or my imagination, but it was too tempting not to imagine I was one of King Arthur’s knights, on her way to the round table to celebrate a successful conquest.

“How old is this place?” I asked, running my hands across the wall, feeling the crackling brick run over my fingertips.

“Ages and ages, dear,” Fandral said over my shoulder.

“I need it to be more specific, for the files,” I said, my curiosity getting the best of me.

“This castle is 15,000 years old,” Volstagg said.

The staircase seemed to have no end, and it seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.

My heart skipped a beat, my muscles tightening as I toyed with the idea that we could be going to the dungeon.

Finally, the stairs ended, and the golden accented log walls stopped, overtaken by beige-toned bricks. The hallway got slimmer, and we shuffled into a single line.

Iron bars covered the windows that let in a bit of sunlight, the ground even with the ledge.

We took one final stairway, up towards the sunlight.

It opened up on top of a cliff, overlooking the sea, with a perfect view of the bifrost. A single tree shaded any travelers, and on the left side of the cliff, a stairway carved out of rock led downwards to the sprawling city that looked much more extravagant in the daylight.

“Wow,” I whispered, a cool breeze flowing through my hair, my eyes taking in the beauty.

It’s moments like these I’m glad I haven’t died yet. I’ve almost died countless times, but I was grateful for the most recent time, when Ben saved me by stalking me. His pointless protective tendencies were like a blessing in disguise, sometimes.

“It’s quite romantic, isn’t it?”

My head turned slowly to Fandral, who was standing about two feet away from me, looking very intently at my face.

I turned my head back forward without a word, simply ignoring him.

“Fandral…” Volstagg said, disappointingly.

“What?” He questioned, and Sif took my arm, leading me down the stone carved stairs.

“So, as much as I loved the view, it was unnecessary,” I said.

“It’s quite vital actually,” She informed, “We’ll go through the most important parts of town. Culture is important for your research, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course,” I confirmed, shaking my head.

“Well then this will give you a perfect, first hand, look then.”

“Perfect.”

We entered the town, and in the light, it looked entirely different. It was like each and every “house” was a mini castle, but with a touch of modern eclectic architecture to make it unique, with numerous different tiers and sections over the water, all connected with golden bridges.

But despite the extravagance, it was just as busy and bustling as I’d imagined.

Kids, adults, and some livestock all filled the streets, chatting and playing and getting ready for the day ahead. But something was missing. Vendors.

“How are your goods supplied?” I asked Lady Sif, who was caught up talking to some kids, smiling ear-to-ear, kneeled next to them as they touched her armor.

I let the question rest, watching her play with the kids, describing her most recent battle.

After a minute or two of telling her story to the children, who were now begging for more stories, she looked back at me, standing up and telling them goodbye.

“What?” She asked, rejoining my side.

“I didn’t say anything,” I defended, smiling at her through the corner of my eye.

As we walked, I continued to ask questions about the culture, and took little trinkets and stuffed them in my satchel, hearing the people whisper as I passed by.

We got to the end of the housing, and entered a courtyard.

The courtyard split into two staircases, both ending up on the same tier, 12 feet tall, shrouded and shaded by what seemed to be olive trees.

I’d never seen any tree as vibrant as the ones in Asgard. I debated trying a leaf, just to know what it would taste like. Would it taste like a regular leaf?

“What’s up there?” I asked them as they continued walking ahead of me.

“The training grounds,” Volstagg answered, looking behind me with an excited smile. “It’s where we spend most of our days.”

Reminded of the sword currently hanging from my holster, I asked another question.

“Can we use it?”

Chapter Text

“What, you’d think SHIELD wouldn’t send me up here if they thought I couldn’t handle myself?” I asked, doing a fancy flip with my sword, throwing it behind my back and catching it.

“You’re still mortal,” Sif said, seeming to consider the idea as her hand went to her own sword that she kept at her holster.

From what I’d gathered, Sif was the most feared woman in Asgard. Which made her more than a worthy opponent.

“Barely.”

“I propose we should see what this midgardian can really do,” Fandrall suggested, crossing his arms over his armored chest, his gaze alternating between me and Sif.

“A lot more than Sif, I assume, unless she’s willing to prove me wrong?” I suggested, truly challenging her by stabbing at her reputation.

“Oh, now I am more than willing,” Sif said, grabbing her sword from her holster, doing the same trick I did earlier. “If I kill you, what should we tell Thor?”

“...That you disobeyed the rules?” I suggested, with a laugh as I rested the blade of my sword on my right shoulder.

Volstagg laughed heartily behind me. “No killing, Sif, we’re afraid we’ll lose you first!”

That seemed to really set Sif off, her lips flatting as she scowled at Volstagg. “You. Me. The top.” She ordered.

“First one to the top gets to take the first swing,” I said.

Sif seemed to be the one to say it first, before I could even finish, she was rushing up the stone stairs, with Fandrall hot on her tail.

I sped quickly to the steps, skipping as many as I could as Volstagg followed me up, desperate to see the start of the fight of the week, I assume.

As soon as we reached the top, our eyes met a split second before lunging at each other, blocking the other’s swords with a crisp clap of iron, sending a shiver up my spine.

The only sound that could taste fresh.

She pulled her sword away, only to send it back down again towards my shoulder.

We got sharper and quicker, Sif’s brow glistening with sweat as our swords struck repeatedly at each other, the frustrations of our failed jabs beginning to fuel us even further.

“Come on Sif, you’ve got it!” Folstagg cheered.

I false turned left, turning back around at the last second, but Sif was just as quick, if not quicker.

Her sword met mine, and she smirked. “Oldest trick in the book.”

We went back and forth, her attempts all being blocked, her annoyance clearly showing on her face in her slight grimace and shifted jaw. The clinking of iron was consistent, almost at a perfect rhythm.

I pushed her to the ground with my foot, swinging my sword playfully as she pulled herself up on her knees.

“I wanted to take it easy on you,” I shrugged, and took another draw. She blocked it, rising to her feet while pushing against my sword.

“There won’t be any need, as I will win,” She said, raising her sword above her head, looking at me from under its gleaming silver in the mid-afternoon sun.

Dropping to the ground, she kicked my legs out from under me, sending me to the ground with a thud, my knee hitting the dirt, sending it into my eyes.

She kicked my sword out of my hand, and held my sword above my throat, signaling her win by granting me mercy, even if it wasn’t the rules we had made up.

My chest heaved up and down as she looked at me with pride and gratification, the tension in her brows finally released, and I could tell she wasn’t as impressed as I hoped she’d be.

“My sincerest apologies, but I do recall that I did tell you I was quite good,” She said, helping me up. “I’ve got some other business to attend to, if you don’t mind.”

She picked her sword from the ground and put it in her holster.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” She smiled as she went in the back entrance. “You were a worthy opponent.”

I was still on the ground, wondering what just happened, my eyes still burning from the dirt.

It took her only about one minute to take me down, meaning that if I face Loki, I may not be able to win. Maybe I’m not as good as I thought I was.

And if I’m not as good as I thought I was, maybe…

I didn’t allow the thesis of my thoughts to form in my mind. I knew what I was here for and I won’t let one loss determine the outcome of what is to surely come.

“Well, now I know whose mistakes I should excuse,” I said, turning around after seeing her turn the corner. “

“Don’t feel too bad- if you’d had won, I’m sure she’d challenge you to a rematch, and cleave your head,” Volstagg said, patting my back.

“Please, don’t be so dramatic, she just won’t care for you very much,” Fanral stepped in, smiling a little passive aggressively giving a tremulous laugh.

“That’s almost worse!” Volstagg said, giving Fandrall a shove in the shoulder.

“Oh, lots of terrifying people don’t like me very much, especially-” I said, my mouth snapping shut after I realized I’d almost blown my cover.

“What?” Fandral asked, turning to look at me while rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh, especially since they all think I’m Thor’s… wench…” I proposed, my steps consistent, trying to move from the spot we were in to keep the conversation flowing.

They both laughed. “Don’t worry, no one believes it, if so, it’s envy that they feel..”

I laughed to myself, and we reached the top of the stairs. “Where to next?” I asked, and I followed them across the second level of the courtyard.

“The kitchen!” Volstagg said happily, smiling largely.

He chatted about the pastries and turkey legs and how good they were, and I began to feel my stomach growl as he described the smokey taste of the savory meats and how tender it was. Practically fell right off the bone.

I felt weak from hunger when we finally walked into the kitchen, which didn’t look like any kitchen I was used to.

The ceilings were as tall as all the rooms in the castle, but instead of a ceiling with extravagant art, it was clear glass, somewhat resembling the old Speakeasy from what seemed like years ago.

A long wooden table stretched the entirety of the large kitchen, a feast made for the gods sat on top of it, their heavenly scents enchanting and bewitching me to eat it all with no remorse.

My eyes lingered on the large stone stove that sat on the far left side, the heat warming up the entire room, which was quite possibly bigger than my house.

About 15 people bustled around the kitchen busily, raw ingredients strewn about in a chaotic mess.
“Hello Eleanor,” He greeted a woman, who was exiting the kitchen with a large wicker basket of bread and assorted fruits.

Shiny, perfect, juicy, lightly moistened, grapes, oranges, and mystery fruits were placed artfully in the basket, looking straight out of a renaissance painting.

Fandral reached for one of the fruits, but his hand was smacked away.

“This is for our little visitor,” She said, and I assumed it was me before realizing that Jane had been brought here as well.

“That’s okay, us warriors are hungry for Turkey legs anyways,” Volstagg smiled at Eleanor as she walked away.

He sneakily snatched a grape vine from the basket, tossing it to me with a wink.

I popped one into my mouth, feeling as if grapes on earth were now ruined forever for me.

After only a few moments, I had devoured the whole vine, and in those few moments, Fandral had slipped off and came back with a tray of turkey legs.

Instead of stopping, we walked right past us and out the door with a gesture to follow.

“Are you going to be in trouble?” I asked, snatching a turkey leg bigger than my forearm from the tray.

“No, no, we’ll be fine,” He said, chowing down on a turkey leg as we kept walking, tearing it apart like a rabid animal.

I took a bite into the turkey leg, and it didn’t take much force, because the meat was so perfectly tender it seemed to melt in my mouth.

“SHIELD needs this recipe. It’s for research,” I said, my mouth full of turkey. I felt it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“We don’t know the recipe. Only Eleanor knows,” Volstagg said breathless, his own face stuffed.

“Where are we going anyways?” I asked. Quickly, I reached for a second piece.

“The vault,” Fandral answered.

As I went to ask what the vault was, a loud horn echoed throughout the hall, stopping me in my tracks.

Setting the turkey leg back on the tray, I noticed Fandral and Volstagg looking at each other worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Dungeons,” He said, and broke away their glances to start running.

I followed them, running at a much slower pace than I could.

They took a right, turning right into a busy armory.

“You need to stay here, we don’t know what’s down there,” Fandral said, pulling a spear from the wall.

“I took on Sif. I think I can handle more monsters,” I said, pulling my sword out and giving it a playful toss, trying to prove myself to be worthy of fighting alongside Asgardians.

This was perfect.

They would be distracted while fighting off the enemy, and I could just waltz right into Loki’s cell, stab him, find the tesseract, and go home in time for Dad’s funeral.

Volstagg tossed me a helmet. “Do you swear to dutifully temporarily uphold the justice of Asgard and protect its people with your own life in all circumstances, your loyalty forever to allfather Odin?”

“On my honor,” I said.

“Then come on then, don’t spend a fortnight with the ornamented formalities,” Fandrall said, already armored.

I smiled, looking at my reflection in the shiny helmet, putting it on my head, and shedding my bulky cloak.

With no time to enjoy the powerful feeling, I followed them and the other warriors down to the dungeons.

“Does this mean I’m an official Asgardian warrior now?” I asked Fandrall, running beside him.

“Yes it does,” he answered with a wink.

We arrived in the heat of the battle, the prisoners having somehow escaped from their cells, which seemed to have no bars to keep them contained in, but of course, this is Asgard, nothing is as it seems.

I fought my way through the rioting prisoners- which were definable by their traits all vastly different from that of Asgardians. All of them had some feature that set them apart, whether it was that they were 8 feet tall, or had red skin and mangled clothes, and some of their helmets exceedingly unfamiliar to that of an Asgardian helmet.

I felt undefeatable as I tore through the creatures, the high of finally stepping up to the highest level of the three podiums, my coolness of a medal glimmering in the sweltering heat.

Mid-swing, time slowed and stopped as I noticed something that sent a chill up my spine, creeping and crawling through my bones and up to the back of my head, scratching its claws from my hairline all the way back.

Over my shoulder, I saw him. And he saw me.

I let out a shout of rage that came from the very darkest swampy pits of my stomach and decided to clutch unto my chances.

There he was.

Smug.

Ugly.

And so killable.

I knew he saw me. I knew he must’ve been impressed. Because if he could be impressed, he could be scared.

Uncontrollably, I threw my fists up against the invisible borders.

“Has reading been giving you a crick in the neck?” I snarled, and he slowly turned around to face me.

His gaze only made me angrier.

“Is the sofa not made of the right silk? Is the food too hot?” I said, louder, taking off the helmet and hurling it to the ground.

To look into his cold eyes confirmed what I wanted. To tear his heart from his chest with my bare hands. For him to be alive while I do it, his eyes to see his own inner workings as I tore them out of him, to see me slash all the holes I could in him, mangle him and hang him and watch the remnants of him drip.

And for it to be now.

I searched for a keypad of sorts, my hands caressing the coarse rocks, desperately searching for a keypad while I heard the fighting begin to die down behind me.

Taking a quick peek behind me, I made sure Fandral and Volstagg were still busy.

Catching sight of a lever, I shot a quick glare at Loki, who was watching intently.

“I won’t be thanking you for saving me,” Loki said, trying to step out, but not before I advanced on him, stepping foot into his beautiful, luxurious, 5-star cell.

He stepped back, startled as I walked closer to him, pushing him back into his cell.

“No, you won’t have to thank me for anything,” I said, calmly. “But I will feel really good without it.”

“Really?” He said. His tone was almost like it was taunting me, but the subtle fear and confusion in his eyes gave him away.

“Your screams will do fine,” I said, taking a swing.

A chair fell to the ground as he stumbled back, and I stalked towards him as he crawled on his back desperately trying to get away from me.

Pierce was right.

This feeling was so potent.

Sweet poison.

I went to take another swing, a smile on my face.

But then I paused.

Loki had looked off somewhere, and I could see his eyebrows soften.

I didn’t decipher the look quick enough to duck. A hammer flew across the room, right into my jaw, sending me to the ground and knocking the sword from my hand.

“You think that will stop me?” I yelled. “I will ruin him!”

I crawled over to my sword on all fours, my hair in my face as I picked it up from the ground, but was abrupt by being pulled up to my feet by my wrist.

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Thor said, his grip tight on my wrists as he pulled me further and further away from Loki, kicking and screaming like a kid for candy, trying to get away from him.

I’d never felt such weakness.

“Who are you?” He demanded after throwing me into a cell.

“My name, is Meredith Coulson,” I yelled, standing to my feet. “The daughter of Agent Phil Coulson. I’ve come to do true avenging by ripping him apart and throwing his corpse down the garbage disposal like you all should’ve done back in New York.”

“You tricked me,” Thor said, his words laced with the agony of betrayal.

“Of course I did. You’re gullible and it was easy,” I said, our faces inches apart, “and I would’ve killed you if it were incumbent. Unfortunately his actions would’ve had consequences on more than just himself and I would’ve had no problem letting him know that. I am the consequence.”

“You are not a consequence, you are a minor inconvenience that will be duly dealt with,” Thor said, dragging me towards a cell.

“You have no idea who I am and what I can be,” I said through the magic glass as Volstagg closed it up, a wave of yellow light falling over the opening, signifying the key clashing metal as it turned to lock.

Thor looked fearful, and for a moment, I felt successful.

But then I realized something was terribly wrong.

The whole dungeon shook and rumbled, dirt falling from the ceilings as if the castle had been impacted.

“Mother.” He whispered.

He ran out, his crimson red cape flowing behind him as a look of true terror was written in pitch black ink on his face.

“I’m sorry, Fandrall. I hope you understand enough not to hate me,” I said after I caught a glance of his own betrayed face. “I am not your enemy. I never will be.”

I did feel guilty. For them. They hadn’t done anything. It’s tragic that one person could cause so much hurt.

Loki was only right across from my cell, calm and collected as he continued to pace the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.

I was going to go mad if this was going to be my view for the rest of eternity.

If the prisoners could break out, so could I.

Chapter Text

Handcuffed, we walked side by side in the star lit woods, following Thor to a mystery spot he’d given not much explanation for.

As we walked, we seemed to gather a large crowd of people behind us, all similarly cloaked, a few carrying lanterns to light the way, as if they were heading to the public execution, prepping their voices to sing amazing grace.

All I could think about was Dad. More than I had in the whole week.

And the more I thought about him, the angrier it made me.

His killer was right beside me.

But I couldn’t say he was happy. Neither was I, to be honest.

I’d traveled and labored for almost a week now, trying to claw myself to Asgard and getting by by the skin of my teeth.

Even though I’d gotten a full night’s rest last night, I was still tired. There was a feeling that it might never end.

We stepped up rock carved steps, upwards towards some kind of summit, or mountain, deep into the unruly woods of Asgard.

The darkness of the night and the tall trees kept me from seeing where we were headed, but by the time we reached the top, I could see the rocks forming into a crumbling architecture.

It looked like a mini colosseum, complete with stone stands and a large flat arena, set aglow with torches on each pillar, the main floor all stone.

There were two entrances, and Thor led Loki through the nearest one, and a guard took my arm and led me through the other.

His grip was hard on my forearm, restricting blood flow as I felt my hand go slightly numb.

“You must put an end to that conniving rat,” the guard whispered in my ear.

My head spun towards him in shock, barely able to see his expression in the dim flickering light, his helmet covering the important tells of his face.

“This is our only chance to finally rid ourselves of him,” he said after I didn’t answer.

“I take it you’ve been personally wronged by him?” I asked, and he uncuffed me, handing me my sword that had been taken from me after I was jailed.

“Everyone on Asgard has been personally wronged by him,” he said, “so we’re counting on you.”

“The job is already done- have some faith,” I said, waiting for the signal. I felt the same feeling I did when I said my last name was Wayne, but I wasn’t sure why.

He took off my cloak for me, throwing it to the side while I stretched out my neck and shoulders, the crowds beginning to roar.

Then, I heard a loud horn, signaling that the duel was on.

Chin in the air, I walked into the arena, and the crowd immediately began to applaud.

For me.

They stood and cheered, making the ground rumble. Their screams made me wince, but at the same time, I enjoyed it.

I remembered whenever Pierce told me about how good feeling power is. Obviously, I couldn’t understand it as well as I did now.

Loki then walked into the arena, and the ground fell silent.

“Usually, I would say that you can beg for a god to forgive you in your final moments, but then you’d be forgiving yourself. And you should never do that as long as I’m alive,” I jabbed, swinging my sword.

“Looks like I’ll have to try and kill you then,” Loki countered, standing alert with a sword in his hand.

“That is what a duel is, isn’t it?” I said.

“Precisely.”

He ran towards me, dramatically sliding under my legs.

Except he was too slow to escape, as I’d simply picked him up by his collar and threw him to the side, his body crumpled against the wall before he stood up to his feet.

The crowd cheered, making me chuckle a bit at Loki’s look of shock.

Fully prepared, I watched as Loki charged at me, swinging his sword at my side, where I’d been grazed by a bullet a week before.

I blocked him, and used the same move I used with Sif earlier, turning and knocking him off his balance, and he stumbled before I could slash him in his side.

He kicked my leg away when I’d least expected him to, causing me to fall to my knees.

Before I realized it, his sword was once again coming at me, barely giving me enough time to block and counter it.

Standing to my feet, I held his sword against mine, making sure not to put an unbalanced amount of weight.

I jabbed at his side, slicing his clothing, a small amount of blood beginning to drip from the tiny wound, angering Loki before he tried to do the same, only to be blocked and countered quicker than he might’ve realized, which only gave me another opening to swing again.

He blocked me, his face bright red with anger as he attempted to brush his greasy hair out of his face without taking his guard down- thankfully for me, mine had been tied up in a bun, which kept it from getting in the way.

The shrill clink of our swords woke me up from my untimely daze, my subconscious filling in for me as I instinctively blocked him with a flick of a wrist.

I tried to take advantage of the fact that he thought I wasn’t paying much attention- catching him off guard with a jab at his heart after hammering the brunt of my sword into his nose, twisting it back towards his chest.

Loki rolled away, from the tip of my sword, and it was almost like I was winning as he scrambled to his feet, a barely noticeable amount of crimson blood slowly leaking from his nose as he looked at me with knitted brows, his feet planted in way that makes me want to say firmly- but it was all an act.

The crowds echoed the same thing all around.

Finish him.

I pulled away with a small shout, ripping my sword through the air towards his side, only for him to meet my sword again with a sly smile.

“How humiliating,” he said, “to travel so far, only to be beat.”

“What’s embarrassing, winning or losing, is that your own subjects are cheering for me,” I smiled, bringing my sword back around to his other side, turning again to catch him off guard.

“Oh, they won’t be cheering when I kill them all after I kill you,” he said, and immediately, the whole crowd went completely silent, and the only sound left was my own breathing.

The grip on my sword tightened, and my brows furrowed a little bit more.

Without a word, we started circling each other in an attempt to intimidate our rivals, snarling and barking through our eyes.

I charged at him again with a small growl as the sword ripped through the air, making a hollow sound before it was blocked by Loki.

He picked up his sword, bringing it around, making me go low and pull myself back up, making another swoosh in the process.

Taking my eyes off my moves, I noticed Thor in the sidelines, looking at me with impatience, my death being his prime anticipation of the night. What a hypocrite.

Getting distracted, it was unfortunately too late to prevent Loki’s sword from hitting my face.

“An eye for an eye,” he said, his sword making direct contact, missing by a few inches and hitting me right above my eyebrow, kicking my knee in after I began to stumble from the shock.

I fell to the ground, the cold stone sending a shock through my body. I could feel the blood leak from my wound, leaving a trail of red on the ground.

A silent mummer fell over the crowd, the onlookers all concerned.

I turned around on my back, trying to catch my breath as my knee throbbed, but when I saw Loki, it was too late.

His boot met my cheek with great force, making me spit up blood.

My sword was nowhere to be found, as I coughed up crimson, fretfully scanning the ground with my eyes for a glint of silver, but they were all a haze from the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

Heaving, I coughed out a tooth on the ground. Hopefully one of my porcelain ones.

“Is he proud?” He bickered, standing about four feet away.

“Look at how strong you are. Look at how brave and wise you are,” he yelled, “Do you think you’ve made him proud?!”

Something broke in my mind.

The words were so far away, but so familiar.

Something I didn’t think about.

What I hated to think about.

What no one knew. What no one will know.

I tried to get back up and shove it down, but I couldn’t now.

Like light leaking into an abandoned building, he mistakenly brought upon a dusty memory.

Even though I was in another realm, trillions of miles away from earth, the gaunt atmosphere of a DC hospital waiting room was the only thing I could think about.

As if my head had its own projector, my dad’s worried face lit up in my mind.

He was on his knee in front of me, as I sat on a chair. His eyebrows were furrowed in an empathetic way. Although he meant to comfort me, the look instead haunted me.

Please don’t let it play.

“Meredith, you really hurt him,” He said, hand on my tear soaked knee.

The wave of emotions rushed in from that moment. The inescapable guilt, fear, and shame hit me like a train, the tracks I was tied down to.

My hands shook just as they did in the memory, and I looked around in a haze as blood spilled out of my mouth and from my forehead, waiting for Loki to kill me.

“I know Dad. I didn’t mean to...” A littler me cried, choked, snotty tears, “But when he fed Gertie the chocolate, he laughed, Dad. He laughed.”

My Dad’s cousin had come for a visit to meet me, who had only been adopted four years earlier. Dad’s cousin had been enlisted for a long time, so it was the first time he and his wife and son, Dylan, had ever seen me.

Only, there was an accident.

“And that’s terrible that he did that. He has some problems that still need to be solved, which may have made him act that way, but that’s no excuse to lash out. And especially not with your... heightened abilities.”

“I’m sorry Dad, I really am. I just couldn’t control it. I had to do something.”

“That something could’ve been handled better and without any extra unnecessary repercussions.”

It was the first time I’d ever felt true anger. Nauseating, dripping blood red, anger.

Gertie was my only pet. And my only friend. I wasn’t around other kids my age often, which is why I was so excited for a kid my age to come over and play.

When I invited him upstairs, I didn’t expect him to give my dog his leftover cake.

I felt vengeful. Much like how I was feeling now, and I immediately acted on it. My dad has always told me about justice, so I took it upon myself to serve it.

In the form of a 9 year-old’s super-soldier fist.

I had broken his jaw, his cheekbone, and cracked 4 teeth, and he had bitten a good chunk of his tongue clean off. Dylan was in unimaginable pain for almost 2 years straight, and his jaw was never the same.

Every single surgery I had attended. Spent all my allowance on flowers and get well soon cards. Everything I could do to apologize.

Dad’s cousin had thought that I was just a kid he decided to adopt, and he didn’t ask many other questions. But I’m sure he was left speechless when he saw his son writhing in pain and in a puddle of blood on my old bedroom floor.

I had realized what I’d done. I was horrified, and hopelessly in a permanent state of guilt as I watched them leave me alone in the house to rush him to the hospital.

My hollow, empty gaze I caught of myself in the large mirror in the empty hall, only half illuminated by the candles from the dining table. The blood I could still see seep under my bedroom doorway. My dog ruining the carpet in the other room as I desperately tried to do anything I could to save her. That was the last I saw of her before Dad had sent someone from SHIELD to pick me up and bring me to the hospital.

I was in the same car they kept criminals in.

“An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind,” My Dad spoke, almost clear as day, like he was still here.

My eyes welled with tears as I tried pulling myself off the ground.

“Finish him.”

“I just wanted to make you proud. Like how Captain America stood up to his bullies,” I resonated, my voice cracking while I wiped my tears away with my blood stained pink sweater.

“Captain America was delivering justice. He was-" he dropped his head low. "It’s hard for you to understand, I know. But Captain America never killed his bullies.”

My eyes widened as I let out a horrified gasp. “I killed him?” I cried, my small body shaking in shock.

“No, you didn’t kill him, you hurt him. Really bad.”

Silence filled the space between us.

“You know, Captain America only fought his bullies because they threw the first punch. You can stand up for what you believe in, and when the time comes, you can fight for it. But sometimes, the strong thing is walking
away, and telling someone. It isn’t cowardly, and it isn’t dishonorable.”

I looked at him with blurry vision.

“If you had told me, we could’ve gotten Gertie to the hospital in time, and Dylan’s parents would be there to discipline him.”

“Is Gertie… Gone?” I asked, my lip uncontrollably quivering as I felt a thick lump rise in my throat.

He nodded his head, and I wailed, uncontrollably throwing my arms around him, wetting his shirt with my tears.

“I know you were just trying to make me proud. But I would’ve been prouder if you'd let me handle it. Just remember that.”

And the memory was over. My left arm supported me in the dirt, as my right hand held my wound.

My chest heaved as I stood up.

The crowd was chanting to “finish him”, but that wasn’t what my mind was chanting. That wasn’t what was going to make him proud.

I wasn’t sure what was going to come next. Maybe I’ll get killed.

But at least I’ll get killed knowing that I died with honor. I’ll die knowing I can stand before my father and tell him I didn’t do it.

Blood dripped from my forehead where Loki failed to take away my eye.

“You haven’t got a chance, Meredith. Give up and let me save you from eternal humiliation,” Loki sneered, hand gripping the sword, ready to strike at any moment.

My feet were on firm ground.

“Why don’t you take the first swing, coward. Finish me like you keep claiming to do,” I barked, wiping away the blood with the back of my hand.

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” He slashed his sword at my face, only towering about 2 inches over me.

I blocked it, sending a shrill clink through the air.

He slashed, I blocked. He pierced, I jabbed.

Until he was tired. My sword swung in the direction of his hand and he slashed my side, tearing a hole in my dress.

The air was tense and the audience was silent. Loki’s face showed pure exhaustion as he kept relentlessly trying, but to no avail.

“Just die, you snake!” He shouted in my face as I pushed back against his sword, pushing him to the ground.

He stumbled down, and I jumped, kicking his sword from his hand and catching it mid air before he fully fell with a huff.

Loki clutched his arm in pain, scrambling on the ground, just as he did in the cell just hours earlier. Still scared under the facade.

Sitting on top of his chest, I pinned his arms down with my knees

“He is proud of me,” I spat, crossing our swords across his neck, prepared at any moment to slice through. And oh how I wanted to.

Inside I could feel it in my veins. The urge was strong. Just a simple push and it could all be over. Everything I've gone through would be fruitful.

I could feel the blood drip from my forehead and to my eyebrows, and splash onto Loki’s face.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll let you live.”

“Well, that’s a bit rash. You’ve come all this way just to change your mind?”

“It’s the perfect time to change,” I said, still on top of Loki.

“I’d greatly appreciate it if you do,” He stammered, becoming increasingly more nervous as I pushed the swords a tiny bit into his skin.

“I’m not doing it for you.”

And with that, I stood up, and threw my sword away.