Hey everyone! There's four chapters left in Animo, so I hope you enjoy this one! Just a little note that will be expanded on later, there's gonna be a sequel. It's planned out and everything. If I tried to squish all the events into Animo, then it would be like twice as long. So, let's just write two books, shall we? Enjoy, guys!
Chapter Thirteen: Reunion
When I came to, I was lying on a makeshift bed. Really, it was a table with a sheet thrown over it, but it was good enough. At least I wasn’t strapped down to it. That was a definite plus.
I groaned. My entire body ached; pain seared throughout my nervous system from the multiple wounds that dotted my arms and legs. I tried to lift my head to inspect the damage, but a pounding in my temple led me to lie back again.
“Agent Mo?” A familiar voice floated into my ears. I turned and rested my cheek against the table to better see who it was. Taylor Burns, the young nurse from the helicarrier, was striding toward me with a smile on her face. “You’re awake!”
I groaned again and rubbed one eye. “How long was I out?”
“A few hours. Well, so they tell me. I just got here a little while ago.” She beamed at me. “They said it was urgent that I fly out to Chicago and tend to your wounds.”
“They’re not that bad, though,” I insisted, pouting a little. I hated doctors, but I was secretly glad to see her. “Adam needs medical attention more than I do. Go fix him.”
Taylor laughed. “Your brother’s injuries are nothing compared to yours. You are in critical condition, Agent. I couldn’t do anything about it, however, until you stopped bleeding. You soaked through two rolls of gauze.”
I squirmed on the table to see what she was talking about. My arms, legs, and both my sides were plastered with the thick white material. Faint splotches of pink dotted them. “I’ve stopped now, haven’t I?”
“You have. That’s why I came over. It’s a bonus that you’re awake as well.” Her smile turned apologetic. “But, I’m going to have to give you an anesthetic before I can stitch you up. I saw how uncomfortable needles were for you last time you were on a hospital bed.”
I eyed her cautiously. “That still involves needles, though.”
“Just one. I promise.”
I glanced around, searching for Barton. He was good in a time of crisis, if that crisis was my irrational fear of needles and other pointy objects that could potentially kill me. I found him hovering near where Adam lay. They looked like they were having some serious discussion, and I was too tired and lazy to bother them, so I nodded once at Taylor and closed my eyes.
I heard her rifling through the different bottles and containers in search of the anesthetic, but I didn’t dare open my eyes. It’s better if you can’t see it, right? Not entirely true. As soon as the needle pricked my arm, I jerked away from it.
“Agent Mo, you’re going to have to hold still. I could stab something I didn’t intend to if you keep moving,” Taylor scolded. I opened my eyes and gave her an apologetic look, feeling suddenly guilty. I laid back again and shut my eyes once more.
This time, when the needle entered my arm, all I did was suck in a breath. Taylor chuckled to herself as she pressed down on the plunger. Then the syringe was pulled away and I allowed myself to open my eyes.
I inspected my arm. There was a tiny red hole where I’d been given the anesthetic. I didn’t feel that different though. I wasn’t numb at all. My brow furrowed and I looked at Taylor. “I can’t feel anything.”
“That’s the point,” she replied with her back turned. She was going through her med kit again, rooting around for a needle and thread.
I shook my head. “No, no, I mean I can feel. I’m not numb. Not at all.”
Taylor turned back to me with supplies in her hands and a smile on her face. “That’s because it takes a little while for it to set in. This is stronger than the stuff I used on you before; your injuries are much more serious that those scratches on your arm.”
My eyes darted to the five thin scars on my left arm, the trophy I’d received for saving Barton’s life. Now I’d saved Adam, and the end result was much more severe. You’d have thought I’d be better at fighting after almost ten months of being with the Avengers. Guess not.
“Um, Agent Mo?”
I rolled my eyes involuntarily. “Please, Taylor, it’s just Mo. ‘Agent’ isn’t necessary. Please.”
Taylor pressed her lips into a thin smile. “Okay, Mo. I’m going to start stitching now. Close your eyes if you need to, or I can get one of your friends to come over and distract you if you prefer.”
I shook my head and let out a sigh. “No, let’s not bother them. Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”
I swallowed once and shut my eyes once again. I still could feel every part of my body; the anesthetic hadn’t set in. But I refused to call attention to it. No point in worrying people when there was no real reason to. I was a big girl; I could handle a little needle. Right?
Not right, not right! I mentally shouted as soon as the sharp object touched the first wound on my leg. I tried not to squirm, and focused on the noises around me. From what I could hear, Stark and Rogers were speaking in the corner, but not to each other. Fury, maybe? I couldn’t hear the other party’s replies, so I assumed I was correct. Barton was still with Adam, speaking too quietly for me to comprehend. I couldn’t locate Natasha, Banner, or Thor at all.
“First one is finished,” Taylor said cheerily, snipping the thread. “Only…um, let’s just say several more to go.”
I ground my teeth together and gripped the edge of the table. Excellent. Just excellent. I was gonna pass out from the pain before she was even close to finishing at the rate the anesthetic was taking to kick in. “Let’s just do this,” I spit out, bracing myself.
And so it went on for twenty minutes, and she was only halfway done. She muttered apologies as she sewed, and I tried my best to not push her away from me. After a while longer, I started to get pissed off. My entire body was aching – no, screaming – and the damn stuff that was supposed to put me under wasn’t even working!
I felt much like I did before I blacked out on the alien ship. My throat clenched, as did my fists, and my blood was boiling as red-hot rage coursed through my veins. The next time the needle pricked my skin, I was about to lunge upward and knock Taylor upside the head. But something stopped me.
“Is she all right?” Barton’s voice swam through my consciousness and immediately all the anger shut down.
Nodding against the thin sheet beneath me, I croaked out, “I’m fine.”
His hand slipped into mine. “You don’t look fine. You look like a shredded mess.”
I cracked open one eye and glared at him. “Thanks so much,” I said sarcastically.
He grinned. “Of course. Anytime.”
I smirked at him, fully opening my eyes to look at him. My gaze turned suspicious. “What were you talking to my brother about for so long?” I asked.
He smoothed my hair back from my face, fighting a small smile. I leaned into his hand, smelling the faint scent of mint beneath the obvious stench of stale blood from the fight. “Nothing that you need to worry about, all right? You just need to focus on getting better. You and your brother both.”
I chose to accept that answer for now. I blinked gratefully at Barton, thankful that he stopped my panic attack, if that’s what you could call it. I turned my head back toward Taylor to see how far she’d gotten. Both my legs were done, as was my left arm. “Almost there,” she said reassuringly, giving me a gentle smile.
I don’t think anyone was prepared for what happened next, including me. Taylor told Barton to move aside so she could get to my right arm, causing him to let go of my hand and stand a few paces away. There was a large gash near the crook of my elbow, which was what she started on first. As soon as the needle touched my skin, I sprang up and wrapped my fingers around her throat, baring my teeth. Taylor screamed and dropped the needle, sending it clattering to the floor.
“Stop,” I hissed. “That hurts.”
Barton leapt forward immediately, grabbing my wrist. “Mo!” he exclaimed, trying to pry my fingers off her neck. “What are you doing?”
I snapped my head in his direction. “She hurt me,” I snarled.
“Mo, knock it off,” Barton ordered. “You can’t just attack people like that!”
He succeeded in pulling me away from Taylor and clutched me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I clawed at his exposed skin, creating tiny scratches that quickly welled up with blood. I hissed and spit, trying to escape his grasp, but he held me tight.
I couldn’t explain the sudden rage that I felt. But it wasn’t going away.
Rogers and Stark were shouting and running toward the two of us. Taylor had stumbled away and was cowering on the opposite side of the room, crying. Barton was talking hurriedly to me, but I couldn’t hear anything. It was just a muffled blur.
Slowly, my struggles got weaker. Eventually, my legs gave out from underneath me and I collapsed backward into Barton’s arms, blacking out entirely.
*
I came to an hour later to see Barton watching me anxiously. I rubbed my forehead and caught a glimpse of my right arm: it was all patched up and decorated with little black x’s. I tried to sit up. Barton moved forward to help me, resting a gentle hand on my back. “Easy,” he said softly.
“What happened?” I slurred, still slightly groggy. He pointedly avoided my eyes. That wasn’t good. “Barton. I asked you a question.”
He cleared his throat. “Nothing much. You attacked Taylor, and then you passed out. You scared the shit out of all of us, though, and Taylor hasn’t spoken since.”
I was hit by a wave of guilt and quickly hung my head. Nothing much, huh? I remembered all of it; the needle on my arm, strangling Taylor, and clawing up Barton’s arms. What had gotten into me? I liked Taylor; I liked Barton. Why would I try and hurt them? I peeked at Barton from behind my hair. Angry red slashes coated his arms. A few of them had Band-Aids stuck to them.
I buried my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Barton. I’m so, so sorry.”
I felt his hand against my back, moving in soothing circles. “Hey, it’s all right. Nobody blames you. You’ve been through an ordeal today, what with the aliens and all. You just got a little crazy, that’s all.” He lifted my chin with his finger and looked sternly at me. “Nobody blames you, Mo,” he repeated.
“Where’s Taylor?” I asked, ignoring him and averting my eyes.
Barton sighed. “She’s working on Adam now.”
I nodded and pushed myself off the table. My legs immediately buckled, and I had to grip the table for support. Barton made to help but I held up a hand to stop him. “I’m fine,” I assured him.
I limped on wobbly legs toward the table that Adam rested on. He was asleep with his head lolled to the side and his cheek resting on his shoulder. Taylor was making herself busy, flitting about my brother with different utensils designed to fix him. She didn’t seem to notice I was there.
I leaned heavily against the wall next to Adam’s head and cleared my throat. Taylor glanced up quickly, but looked back down just as fast. She slipped an IV into his arm, and a clear liquid began dripping into his body. “What’s that for?” I asked quietly.
“Your brother is dehydrated and malnourished. He didn’t get food or water while being held captive. The IV bag is filled with a solution that should solve both problems.” She spoke in a brisk manner, like a doctor on TV would.
I ran my hands through Adam’s hair. “Look, Taylor, I’m really sorry about what happened. I don’t know what came over me. I just – ”
“I understand,” Taylor interjected, smiling softly at me. “You were under stress, and it was my fault for not putting you under before starting to stitch you up. For someone of your size, I thought the small dose of anesthetic would work. I should have given you more, and for that, I apologize.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for patching me up, by the way. As far as doctors go, you’re all right.” I laughed a little, and she grinned at me. My tone turned serious. “Is Adam going to be okay?”
She nodded. “He’s going to be just fine. We’re flying him home as we speak. In a few hours, he should be up and around and ready to leave.” She looked me up and down, frowning slightly. “But you need rest. You shouldn’t even be walking right now.”
“Is that an order?” I asked cheekily.
She smirked at me. “Yes, that is an order. Go lie down for a while; I’ll be over to recheck your injuries once I finish with your brother.”
I managed a slight wave before trudging back over to my table bed. Barton was still standing nearby, so he lifted me back onto it. I rolled onto my side to face him and reached for his hand. “Don’t leave, all right?”
“I promise,” he replied with a smile.
Satisfied, I drifted off for the third time.
*
The jet landed on my hometown’s football field a few hours later, just like Taylor had said it would. Barton helped me off the table and threw his arm over my shoulders so I could lean against him. Together we made slow progress out of the jet and onto the grassy field. I’d never been so happy to see the ground in my entire life.
“Mo!”
I turned my head and saw Stark jogging behind us, holding something black in his hand. “What?” I asked, stopping in my tracks.
Barton narrowed his eyes at Stark once he reached us, but Stark ignored him. Instead, he turned to me and pressed the objects into my hand. I looked down; it was the mask I wore to Chris Garfield’s masquerade party. “What the hell do I need this for?”
“Rogers thinks it would be a good idea for you to wear it once all the people start swarming us. We don’t want everyone to know who you are just yet. Okay?”
That sounded surprisingly reasonable coming from Stark, so I nodded. “Yeah, all right. Is Adam coming?”
He snorted. “Duh. Why do you think we landed here? We’re taking him home.” I glared at him. “He should be out shortly. Put that mask on.” And with that, he spun back around and returned to the ship.
I did as I was told for once in my life and slid the mask on over my eyes. Barton was smiling at me. I grinned. “Do I look like a stranger?”
“Oh, yes. Of course you do,” he replied with false sincerity. “Mo, I’ve spent almost an entire year with you. No, you don’t look like a stranger. But to people who don’t know you as well, you’ll look like a different person.” I shook my head but couldn’t stop a smile.
Barely a few minutes later, sirens started to wail. Three police cars sped around the corner and tore through the field to squeal to a stop a couple of feet away from Barton and I. Behind them, a mass of townspeople followed like obedient dogs. I couldn’t help searching for Brendon; his house was only a block from the football field.
One officer strode up to Barton. “You,” he said in an official voice. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Barton held out his hand. “Agent Clinton Barton, codename Hawkeye. I’m a member of the Avengers. You know, the heroes who saved New York from the Chitauri two years ago?” The officer blinked at him. Barton continued, “We’re returning a boy who was taken from his home almost four days ago. I believe this town has been missing one Adam Monet?”
“And his sister, Kristy. Do you have her too?” the officer questioned, looking slightly more relaxed.
I shook my head. “No, sir. Just the boy.”
He frowned. “That’s a shame. Been gone almost a year. I don’t know how her poor mother can stand it.”
That hurt. I mean, the guys told me that my parents knew that I was in New York, but I guess I never really stopped to think about how things were for them back at home. After hearing that, I desperately wanted to see my mother.
Like he knew what I was thinking, Barton looked my way and shook his head slightly, enough that the officer wouldn’t notice it. My eyes took on a pleading expression. He shook his head again. I knew what he was thinking; it would blow my cover.
The rest of the group came filing out of the jet soon after. Adam was being supported by Thor, who smiled when he saw me. I forced a smile in return.
“Is this your jet?” the officer inquired, furrowing his brows at it.
I smirked. “No, sir. We’ve never seen it before in our lives.” He glared at me, but I waved it off. “Where are the boy’s parents?”
The officer motioned for us to follow him. I walked close enough to Barton that our arms brushed as we walked. Thor and Adam were just behind us; behind them walked Rogers, Stark, Natasha, and Banner. Taylor had stayed behind on the jet.
The crowd parted as the officer strode toward it, making a path that led straight to a man and a woman, both with dark brown hair. The man had deep green eyes, whereas the woman had the same shiny blue eyes as my brother and I. It was the first time I’d seen my parents in almost a year, and they didn’t look any different.
I fought the urge to run forward and smother them with hugs. I focused instead on where I was placing my feet; I was so excited I was afraid I would trip.
When we reached the two of them, my mother burst into tears at the sight of my brother. Thor handed him off to my father, who clamped a hand on Adam’s shoulder to keep him upright. My mother wrapped her arms around him, being careful to not bump his injuries, while my father awkwardly patted him on the back.
My mother stepped back and looked my way. Even with the mask, she knew it was me. How did I know? Because her hand went to her mouth and her eyes overran with tears again. I wanted to hug her, but Barton kept me firmly rooted to my spot. I shook my head at her, but gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back and dropped her hand, accepting the predicament I was in.
The crowd suddenly converged on us, patting the seven of us on the back and congratulating us on our job well done. I smiled and pretended to be someone else as they did so. Well, until I caught sight of one particular blonde head, that is.
Don’t do it, Mo. You’ll blow your cover, I told myself.
Screw cover.
I slipped away from Barton’s side while he was being hugged by a heavyset woman and ducked under civilian arms, trying to reach Brendon. My heart was beating so wildly I could hear it in my ears and feel it in my throat. I’d been waiting for this moment for three years. I wasn’t about to let it slip away.
I was a foot away before he turned toward me. His green eyes searched my face, and he smiled like he knew exactly who I was. So much for the disguise.
He met my pace and we met in the middle. I looped my fingers through the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. His hands went to either side of my side and held me there. Our eyes locked for half a second before I closed the distance and pressed my lips to his.
Warmth spread throughout my entire body, from my head to my toes. Butterflies swirled in my stomach, but that wasn’t an accurate description. It was really more like a hive full of bees buzzing around in there. Heat rushed to my cheeks.
I pulled away first with a huge grin on my face. “Now, that is how it’s supposed to be,” I declared, unconsciously looking Barton’s way. He looked at me with a blank face and motioned that we needed to leave.
I turned back to Brendon. “I’ve gotta go.”
“You’ll come back, won’t you?” he asked, smiling at me. “You have to, after that.”
I patted his cheek. “Of course.” Then, having gotten what I wanted, I spun around and rejoined the group as they traipsed back to the jet.
Stark whistled at me once we left the crowd behind. “Quite a show there, Mo,” he said.
I disregarded his words and just shook my head. The smile never disappeared from my face. In that moment, everything was completely perfect. I’d saved Adam, seen my parents, and kissed Brendon. What could be better?
But, of course, nothing can ever stay perfect.