Heather didn't sleep the rest of the next night.
Not a wink.
Each time she slipped and found herself dozing off, each time her eyelids dare closed, she saw Michael and Joey slowly dying, their eyes begging for quick release, while Shaw cackled wickedly as he tossed them to and fro like rag dolls, his voice repeating the same phrase that was now burned into Heather's brain.
Kill the humans, kill the humans.
When Heather had gotten tired of rolling around and fidgeting restlessly on the bed, she'd slid from the mattress, careful not to wake Raven, and retreated to the bathroom. While the main room had been stuffy and almost suffocating, the bathroom was rather cool - a relief to a clammy and shaky Heather. The bright, fluorescent lights hurt her sensitive eyes at first, but she quickly got over it, as she took a seat next to the bathtub.
She pressed her forehead to the cool porcelain, squeezing her eyes closed and wincing when the image of blood - so much blood - came forward. Just when she thought the bathroom would be her haven...
Her knees pressed to her chest, she began to rock, and her hands found their way to her ears and pressed into them in a desperate, childish attempt to keep the voice out. She bit her lip to keep a pathetic whine from escaping her mouth and her rocking intensified, to the point of Heather banging her hand against the tub - though she barely noticed the pain blossoming as her forehead connected with the porcelain.
She didn't know how long she stayed there, rocking, but it must have been a long time - as her limbs and joints groaned when she crawled into the tub and reached for the handle, pulling it up. The water came from above, to Heather's shock, and she let out a surprised cry at cold, shivering as the water slowly became warmer.
She didn't remove her clothes or move for that matter - instead she stayed where she was, looking rather similar to a wet cat and feeling like she was caving in on herself, her arms wrapped around her knees tightly, as if she keep the whole world out. In the shower, she finally let some frustrated tears slip out - her mind questioning why she was having such a strong reaction to Shaw's death, why he was making a reappearance in her nightmares.
Why he was driving her damn near insanity.
Heather stayed in the shower until the water turned cold once more and she felt somewhat closer to human. She removed her hideous suit quickly, rejoicing silently that they were waterproof, before gently toweling off of her slightly pinkish skin and her messy hair. Once she was dry, she slipped the suit on and left the now steamy bathroom. Heather glanced at Raven, making sure the other girl was sound asleep, which she was, before carefully and quietly making her way out of the room.
She honestly didn't know where she was going, but she supposed a quick walk would - hopefully - clear her mind.
Heather made her way to the lobby, the place almost looking deserted, before she spotted Moira at a small wooden phone, glaring at a blue phone, as she scribbled something down on a piece of paper. That had Heather stopping in her tracks. "What are you doing?" She asked, as she hesitantly made her way over to the desk. Moira glanced over at her in surprise, like she hadn't noticed Heather entering the room, and she let out a defeated sigh. "Making some calls. To get a ride home?"
"And how's that going?"
"Terrible."
Heather blinked in surprise, before looking down at the paper Moira had been writing on, her eyes widening as she scanned over the messy handwriting. "You've called all these people? All - what is that - twenty? And they all said no?" Moira didn't answer, but Heather took her silence as a yes. "Why are they - you know - "
" - Not letting me use their planes? Not supporting me?" Heather was surprised by how Moira snapped, but she didn't look up to meet her doe like gaze, instead continuing in a disgusted tone, like the words actually pained her to spit them out. "Because. I helped you all - I helped my friends, people that respected me until a certain agency. And now I'm known as helping dangerous individuals and no one there trusts me."
Heather stared at her for a moment in silence, not knowing how to respond to that. "But we helped them? We stopped World War III!"
"And some of them are grateful for that. But they don't want to be mixed up with me and have their name tainted forever." Moira let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the chair, wincing when her back popped loudly. "We'll just have to find a new way - "
Heather had stopped listening, as an idea had popped up like a lightbulb above her head. " - Moira, I, uh, I have an idea."
Moira raised an eyebrow, an amused look on her face, but she didn't stay anything. Heather took this as a sign to keep going. "I have a friend. His name is Joey. And he works for the FBI - " Moira wrinkled her nose at that, but said nothing, " - and he's really nice, I swear. If I ask, maybe he could find someone and could get a plane down here to get us." Moira furrowed her eyebrows in thought and Heather bounced on the balls of her feet, biting her lip in anxiousness.
She knew Joey would do anything for her - hell, if she asked, he'd swim down here himself - but there was still some doubt. What if Joey couldn't find a plane? Or what if Joey had grown tired of Heather sneaking around with the whole Erik and Edie thing? What if he wasn't willing to help her anymore?
"Why not?"
Heather had been so consumed by her thoughts that she had almost forgotten that she was still waiting for Moira's permission. The younger girl nodded silently, before reaching for the blue phone, Moira watching her like a hawk, as she carefully dialed the numbers.
The phone ringed almost three times and by then, Heather had began to internally panic. She didn't know what time it was in America, what if it was too late or too early, what if he wasn't in his office, should she have called his home phone, maybe she should just hang up -
But before Heather could remove the phone from her ear, she heard his voice.
"Moran."
Heather let out a sigh of relief, before breathing out. "Joey."
"Heather?" There was a creak, as if Joey had sat or stood up from his old chair. "Hey, I haven't heard from you all week, are you - "
"Joey, I need your help." She couldn't help it, it just slipped out. She hadn't seen him in what seemed like forever and she was always an open book around him. "Well," she backtracked, glancing at Moira, "We need your help."
"What's wrong, Heather? Is everything okay? And - did you say we? Who else is there? Is it that Erik guy?"
"Joey, calm down," Heather sighed, trying to contain herself from laughing, "And, uh, yes, Erik is involved. But you need to listen to me, okay?" The silence on the other end confirmed to Heather that Joey was ready, and Heather explained, wincing as she did so, "Alright, well, I'm in Cuba. With Erik. And a few other people, okay? And, uh, we have no way to get back to America. We need your help, Joey. Can you send someone with a plane down to help us?"
Silence. "What?"
Heather snorted, "Do I have to explain it again?"
"No, no, I mean, just - Heather, you're not in trouble, are you?"
"Why do you always assume that?"
"Just a habit." There was the sound of paper being scuffled and moved around rather loudly, like Joey was digging for something. "You do realize I could lose my job, right? Those assholes at the CIA are keeping Cuba under lock and key after what happened yesterday." There was a sudden silence and Heather's eyes widened, but before she could deny anything, Joey continued in a strained voice, "Heather, you didn't have anything to do with that, did you?"
"Uh - "
"Jesus Christ, Heather, how did you - "
" - I'll explain everything when we get to DC, okay? I promise. Just - please, we need you, Joey."
There was a long, over dramatic sigh before Joey muttered into the phone. "Okay, I got a buddy down there. He's a spy for us, you know, for the whole Cuban Rebellion. Helps us keep on eye on things. Name's Cedro and he owns a pretty nice plane."
"Is it big enough to hold nine people?" Heather asked, biting her lip.
"Should be. I'll make a quick call to him to make sure, but he should be fine with it. Usually he flies around noon - " Heather glanced at the clock, which read 10:30, " - but he could always make an exception."
"Thank you, Joey, thank you so much." Moira's eyes widened at that, looking up at Heather in disbelief. "Remember," Joey said sternly, "I need an explanation. You promised, missy." Heather let out a shaky laugh, before answering, "I know, I know. I, uh, gotta go now. I'll see you soon." Joey mumbled something, before hanging up, and Heather let out a relieved sigh. "Holy shit," Moira breathed, "Looks like we're going home."
A few minutes later, everyone else slowly made their way out of their rooms, looking rather tired and sore from yesterday's fight. Moira explained the whole plane situation to the sleepy lot and even talked to Joey when he returned the call to confirm that yes, Cedro would take them and yes, he had enough room for all of them. Meanwhile, Heather - feeling rather hungry - grabbed a few nickels and dimes from her pocket and looked for a vending machine.
After a few minutes of searching, she did find one - in an empty looking back hallway.
It felt like a scene straight out of a horror film and Heather was tense, ready to bolt at any moment if necessary. But it was silent as she approached the machine and feed her coins into it, taking the bag of chips out of the opening. But like everything good, the silence had to come to an end. "Thank you," a deep voice rang out and Heather let out an embarrassing shriek that got stuck halfway up and came out sounding more like she was choking.
Whipping around to face the person and tell them off, she nearly shrieked again at the sight. The thing - person - man - before her was a walking, talking rock. While the man was made of gray rock, he had to form and shape of a human, and he had the presence and energy of a ghost - which confused Heather like no other.
"Thank you," he repeated, "for keeping my friends safe."
Heather felt her face soften, as she took a step closer to the ghost. "Who are you?"
"Armando. But friends called me Darwin."
Darwin. Darwin. "You're the Darwin Alex was talking about," Heather said in a surprised tone. Darwin gave her a pained smile, before adding, "The one and only." They were both silent for a moment, before Darwin continued, "I just - wanted to thank you. For keeping them safe and alive, and taking down that nutjob."
"Nutjob - you mean Shaw?" Something dawned on Heather. "Were you - were you killed by Shaw?"
Darwin stayed silent, but the saddened look on his face said everything. "It doesn't matter anymore," Darwin finally responded after a long pause, "I'm moving on, thanks to you. My wish was fulfilled and now, I'm off to wherever." Before Heather's own eyes, she watched as Darwin changed gracefully from rock to human skin, changing from an odd looking golem to a rather attractive African American man. And then with last smile, Darwin disappeared in a shower of gold.