I'm BACK an d W r ITinG !
HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CHAPTER
"And that's how the liver works,"
Erin concluded her PowerPoint, complete with poor quality animations and rainbow WordArt. Anything to try to make the hepatic system stick in the heads of her seventy-three undergraduate Biochemistry students.
"Any questions?" She wasn't surprised when no hands shot up. It was half past four on a Friday and the sweltering heat was exacerbated by the lack of windows in her stuffy lecture theatre. She glanced upwards from her desk at the sea of bored sweaty faces in front of her. The lesson wasn't supposed to finish for another thirty minutes, but she decided to let them go home anyway. There wasn't much else she could teach them in a room that felt like a sauna.
"Alright. Get out." She joked. There was a small murmur of a chuckle from the students as they packed away their laptops and notepapers into their bags, their minds already on the night ahead of them instead of the two-hour lecture behind them.
"And have a good Friday," Erin continued, switching off her own computer and unplugging it from the ancient projector that hung unceremoniously from the ceiling, "Try not to drink too much alcohol. Which the liver turns to...?"
"Ethanal." The resounding answer came. Well, at least they had remembered something.
"Which is then converted to...?"
"Ethanoic acid." A few more people spoke this time, beginning to wake up as they started to file one by one out of the lecture theatre.
"I'll make scientists out of you guys yet." Erin muttered to herself as they walked out, some saying a cheery, 'Bye!' to her, others leaving in silence until the room was completely empty. She packed all her equipment into her black rucksack and tied her hair up behind her head in a high ponytail, pulling a few strands out to frame her face before setting off.
She knocked the lights off with her elbow and pushed the door open, sighing as she stepped into the slightly more air-conditioned corridor. She's been in that stuffy room all day. It was nice to finally feel like she could breathe again.
It had been three months since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Three months since she had found herself without a job.
Luckily for her, Bruce Banner knew a guy from the physics department at American University Washington and he had pulled a few strings and hooked her up with a teaching job. The hours were long and hard and it was a thankless job, but the pay was decent. She didn't have as much freedom as she had with S.H.I.E.L.D, however. There was no way that the University would approve her continuation of the MFCTS project. Not only would it cost money that they couldn't afford to lose, but they would deem forcing a human being to tell the truth regardless of the circumstances 'immoral'.
Erin guessed that they had a point but it didn't stop her annoyance at her greatest project being stopped before she really had a chance to start it.
The corridors were mainly empty as she walked down them, bag on her back. A low voice calling her name as she passed the University reception caused her to look back in curiosity. A tall man in a tight-fitted white shirt tucked into smart black trousers jogged down the hallway trying to catch up with her. His dark brown hair was styled in a just-got-out-of-bed look that had probably taken hours to perfect. She smiled, recognising him as one of the teachers in the Medical department. He wasn't unattractive, she noticed. He'd let his facial hair grow out into a small patch of stubble along his jawline and she had to admit that it suited him.
"Daveed, hi!"
The man finally caught up to her, hardly out of breath. He placed his hands on his hips and gave her a beaming smile.
"Erin. Sorry about this," he gestured to himself, "I wanted to catch you after your lecture but I thought it finished at five?"
She snorted. Theoretically, it finished at five, the reality was often quite different.
"I let them out early. It's Friday, they're young. They deserve a drink."
Daveed smiled at that.
"Speaking of drinks, Jefferson, I was wondering if you'd like to go out tonight?"
Erin was slightly taken aback to say the least. She had barely ever spoken to the guy but she supposed that if a few of the teachers were going out, it might be fun to tag along.
"Sure," she grinned, "Who else is going?"
He chuckled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, shuffling slightly in his place.
"I was hoping just the two of us."
Oh. Oh.
"You mean like a date?" Erin's smile returned. Well, this was flattering.
The man nodded. "If I pick you up around seven, is that okay?"
"Seven. Yeah. Seven sounds good." She hoisted her back slightly higher on her shoulder, "Seven sounds great. Could I get your number?"
Daveed reached into his pocket and produced a small business card. Nice. Erin was going on a date with a guy who had his own business cards. She was going up in the world.
"See you then. Wear something nice." Daveed smiled and tilted his head to her, before walking back the way he had come, his hands in his pockets. Erin couldn't help but notice that he had slightly more of a swagger to his walk than he had done before their conversation. She smiled to herself.
It seemed like her life really was getting back on track.
She exited the university to blaring sunlight and smiled inwardly to herself. It was a lovely day. She considered momentarily going for a jog but decided against it when she noted the time. She had an appointment with her therapist at half five, and her watch was slowly approaching ten to.
That was Bruce's fault as well.
He had been on the helicopter that had flown into Krakow to rescue her, what felt like so long ago. He had seen first-hand what she had looked like, sat alone in that dingy Hotel, her legs more scar tissue than skin. He had physically carried her into the chopper, regardless of her protests that she was 'fine goddamnit'.
As soon as her feet had got back on American soil, Bruce had set her up with Dr Kennedy, a S.H.I.E.L.D. psychiatrist who specialised in post-traumatic stress. Erin had originally refused point blank to see him but over time, she had begun to trust the guy. There was something about his smooth baritone voice and slightly greying curly black hair that managed to relax her. Even after S.H.I.E.L.D. had come crumbling down, Erin continued to see Dr Kennedy.
The nightmares weren't as frequent on the days that she talked to him.
She reached his office ten minutes early and patiently sat outside in the waiting room until he opened the door, a smile on his face, his bright white teeth juxtaposing his coffee-coloured skin.
"Erin, come on in."
She smiled and picked up her bag, walking into his office and plonking herself down in one of the thickly padded armchairs that he had scattered around the room.
"How was your week?"
The doctor rooted around in his desk before picking out a thick black ring-binder. Her file. He opened it up, sifting through the pages, and picked up a pen, looking at her expectantly.
"Not too bad," She answered honestly, "Students can be a pain in the arse at times, but it's been a good week."
"And how about your relationships outside work?"
Erin let out a deep sigh. Since she came back from Poland, complete with scars and a tremor in her left hand that would go away no matter how much yoga she did, her friendship group had slowly dwindled. She couldn't blame them. It wasn't particularly exciting to hang around with a girl who jumped every time she heard a loud noise.
"I saw Bruce on Monday for coffee." She answered. Kennedy raised an eyebrow.
"Anything else?"
"Daveed from the Medical department asked me out on a date," she continued. A small smile spread across the doctor's face.
"That's brilliant, Erin! A strong relationship is exactly what you need at the moment. Something to take your mind off everything that's been going on recently. How do you feel about it?"
She leant her head back, crossing her hands over her lap.
"Alright. A bit nervous."
"Do you like him?"
"Yeah," she answered truthfully, "He seems like a nice guy."
The doctor jotted something down on his paper and looked back up at Erin, his face serious.
"What about the nightmares? Have they been getting any better?"
There was a long silence before Erin answered, her voice quiet.
"It's always the same."
Kennedy nodded, closing the file and placing it on his lap, looking at Erin intently.
"The man with the metal arm?"
He didn't fail to notice the way that Erin flinched slightly when he spoke, but decided not to mention it. Her hand was twitching again, the first and second fingers drumming an erratic rhythm on her leg.
"I'm running. I'm always running, usually from Pine. Sometimes from unknown soldiers. Sometimes even from Goodwinson."
Kennedy raised an eyebrow. He knew, of course, the names of all of the people Erin had been in contact with during her time in Krakow. She had told him enough times that he had memorised every detail.
"Goodwinson? What do you think that means?"
Erin rubbed her hand across her jawline.
"He's angry at me. I didn't save him."
"You still blame yourself for his death." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Erin nodded regardless.
"He was twenty-one. He was just a kid."
"He was only two years younger than you are Erin," The doctor seemed adamant, "It wasn't your fault that Pine killed him."
"It was my fault he tried to help me to escape."
"What happens next?" Kennedy moved on from the subject of Goodwinson. He knew that Erin beat herself up over not saving the boy. "In your dream, what happens next?"
"I'm running, and suddenly, the ground falls out from beneath me and I'm hanging onto the floor for dear life, my legs dangling into nothing."
"Dreams of falling can often symbolise your own fears of failure," Kennedy interjected but Erin didn't seem to even notice he had spoken. Her eyes had almost glazed over as she thought.
"He's always there. The man with the metal arm. He's standing above me, arm outstretched. It looks like he's going to help me up, but at the last second-"
She stopped talking. Kennedy didn't bother asking her to continue. She had been having the same dreams for the last six months and he knew them in minute detail. This man, the 'man with the metal arm', would appear to try to help Erin from falling, before pulling an automatic pistol from his belt and shooting her directly between the eyes. That was when she woke up, panting and sweaty.
Every goddamn time.
"HYDRA is broken, Erin," The doctor tried to reassure her. Her left hand had joined her right in the samba beat that they were drumming out on her upper thigh, her fingers twitching nervously, "They can't hurt you anymore. None of them can."
She nodded in understanding.
"I know. But that doesn't mean I can forget."
It was dark by the time that Erin set off home, the time on her watch said six. An hour until her date with Daveed. She had nothing to wear, of course. He had told her to dress 'nice', which usually meant a skirt.
Erin didn't do skirts.
Not since Colonel Stephen Pine had been let loose on her legs with a butterfly knife and turned what had originally been her best feature into a crosshatch of fading scars that looked more like a Jackson Pollock painting than human skin.
She reached her apartment in record time, unlocking the door and slipping inside, glad to be back home even if it was for just an hour. She didn't bother switching the light on, instead stumbling through the dark living room to her bedroom, throwing her rucksack onto her sofa. She switched her bedroom light on, filling the room with comforting yellow light and went straight to her wardrobe, pulling her white work blouse off over her head and searching through her clothes.
"Nice, nice, nice. I don't have anything nice, Dav... Couldn't you have just taken me somewhere scuzzy?"
Her eyes settled on a black silk blouse with a low neckline, and she smiled to herself, plucking it off the hanger and slipping it on over her torso. She glanced down at her trousers. Skinny black jeans with a toothpaste stain on the thigh. She shimmied out of them, throwing them onto her bed and turning back to the wardrobe, hunting for something that could be considered 'Nice'. A multitude of grey sweatpants stared back at her.
"Crookshanks?"
She listened for a second but couldn't hear the ringing bell on the collar of her fat orange cat. That was strange. Usually she came up to Erin as soon as she had opened the door.
"Crookshanks?" Erin called again, slightly less confidently. Total silence.
"Crooky?"
A shiver ran up her spine. Something was very wrong. She glanced to her bedroom door, leading to the main room and walked towards it slowly. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Had they found her again, after all this time? Had HYDRA come back to get what they had failed to originally?
There was a very distinct sensation that she wasn't alone in the house.
The first though on her head was to call 911, but that would require a phone... and her phone was currently in her rucksack, which was currently on her sofa. Damn. There was only one other option.
She walked very slowly over to her bed and picked out the medium sized baseball bat that she kept underneath it. A girl could never be too careful.
The bat was heavy in her hands, but she held it tightly regardless, walking towards the main room with a sense of dread. She entered the dark room and moved slowly to a light switch on the wall, blasting the room in light.
There was a man on her couch.
A man with a thick scar on his forehead, blood matted into his long brown hair. A man with Crookshanks, the little traitor, sat peacefully in his lap like she was sitting on a goddamn throne.
A man that Erin knew all too well.
Her heart jumped to her throat and she took a step backwards, raising the bat higher.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
He raised his eyes to her in confusion. It was almost as if he had only just noticed the lights had been switched on. She didn't let him answer her question, instead deciding on a whim to throw the baseball bat at his face with as much force as she could muster. If she was going down, she was bloody well going to go down fighting.
He raised his hand immediately, catching the bat with a metal fist. The sudden movement caused Crookshanks to jump slightly and pad away, affronted. The man looked at the bat, then down at his cat-less lap and finally to Erin.
She didn't understand what was happening. If he was here to re-capture her, as she assumed, why was he just sitting there looking lost? He seemed to be in an almost dream-like state.
"You have four seconds to speak, Optimus, or I'm yelling so loud the entire block will hear me."
His eyebrow quirked at the nickname in confusion as if he had no idea what she was talking about. He shuffled in his place slightly.
"Does 'Jefferson' live here?" A thick New York accent.
The question took her by surprise and she took a step backwards, confusion on her face.
"What?"
"I'm lookin' for someone called 'Jefferson'. Is this the right house?"
His voice cracked partway through the sentence. It was rough, unused.
Erin breathed heavily, her eyes flicking from him to the door of her flat. She was calculating if she would be able to run out in time before he caught up with her, but her odds didn't look great.
"I'm Jefferson." She finally said. Of course she was Jefferson. The guy had stood by whilst she got the shit beaten out of her for four whole days. He had saved her life. Why was he acting like he didn't even know her?
Oh. Her eyebrows raised as she comprehended what had happened.
They had wiped him. Pine and the rest of HYDRA must have removed his memories. She took a closer look at his face. He had let his beard grow slightly, a thin layer of stubble covering his chin, and the guy looked like he hadn't slept in a month. There was certainly a big difference between now and the last time he had been in her house, when he had pinned her to the wall and shoved a chloroform rag over her nose.
"You're Jefferson?" his voice was confused, "I thought you'd be a man. Jefferson is a man's name."
Erin's eyebrow raised.
"It's a surname. My... my name is Erin."
She was pretty sure she had gone into shock. That was probably the reason why she wasn't running. The reason why she was stood here, having a conversation with an assassin who had been stroking her cat ten seconds ago.
"Erin." He tested out her name on his lips, his face confused.
He moved to stand up but stopped immediately when he saw her take a step backwards, closer to the wall behind her. Instead of moving from his seat, he reached into his backpack, which she hadn't noticed up until now. It was plain and black, heavy with contents. He pulled out a small notepad and held it out to her, a peace offering.
She took a wary step forward and snatched the book off him, returning to a safe distance and opening it up.
And there she was, on the first page.
It was scribbled in hasty handwriting, messy and blotched, but there it was. Her address, the name 'Jefferson' and a single word, triple underlined.
'Memories?'
She looked up at him in shock, and he nodded his head at her, his blue eyes sparkling.
"I think that you can help me."
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THERE WE GO please leave a review/ favourite if you like it! And this story has over 2k reads holy crap thank you so much aha!!