I have no words, guys. Just thank you so, so much for all of your support. It really means the world. We got #519 in fanfiction this week! Holy SCHIST, guys!!! Thank youuuu!- here's the newest chapter. I had fun writing this one ;P.
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"Where'd you get that?" Fitz pounced. The teen looked up, confused. Annabeth and Hunter looked back to see the cause of the sudden outburst.
"How did I get what?" Percy asked dryly, thoroughly annoyed that Fitz had chosen to pick on him once again. "My good looks?" Fitz scowled as he continued. "My mom says-"
"No, no, the pen." Fitz muttered sourly. The tapping of said object stopped midair as a look of surprise crossed Jackson's face, as though he had just realized he had been fiddling with it a second ago. He held it up to his face and did his best to look innocent. "The pen? I found it on the ground." Hunter laughed, rounding Annabeth in order to snatch the ballpoint out of his hands, which the teen let go off with a roll of his eyes.
"Good try, Mate," Hunter snickered, observing the small object. Fitz didn't miss the strained look Annabeth shot Percy before Hunter spoke up once again. "They sweep these rooms clean. You know, to make sure you don't have anything to kill us with."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Because I was going to kill you with a pen. Really?"
Annabeth coughed, as though she was choking on something.
Hunter gave her a sideways glance before going back to the conversation. "Don't act all innocent. It wouldn't be hard," he said, getting into an over-exaggerated fighting stance to illustrate the upcoming explanation. "All you would have to do is stab us in the eyes or something. "
Annabeth snorted, her pride refusing for him to believe that. "Thanks for the run down. But we wouldn't need a pen to fight you."
Hunter laughed heartily. "Maybe so, but we have the weapon now," he claimed. Percy stiffened on the bed when Hunter pointed the instrument at him. He flicked the cap off as a joke, but then... "BLOODY HELL!"
Percy dove off of the bed as a sword sprang to life, a full three or four feet of gleaming bronze, the tip right where his throat would have been.
Fitz's jaw dropped to the ground. His eyes were practically bulging out of his head. The double edged blade was undoubtedly the weapon Percy had yielded before, and somehow it had fit in his pocket?!? It was official, he was definitely mentally ill. He needed to pack his bags, check himself into a mental institution, get a monkey...
Hunter's reaction was much calmer. He cursed proficiently and dropped the blade as though it had just come out of the forge. It clattered to the floor, filling the room with the only other noise than the British agent's breathless vocabulary. He gaped at his hands, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.
"Could you please not throw my sword on the ground like that?" Percy grunted as he pushed himself off the floor with a sigh, rising slowly. Annabeth rubbed her forehead in disbelief and frustration. "Percy," she scolded him half-heartedly, but her eyes remained trained on the two agents, awaiting their reaction.
Hunter was first to vocalize his (controlled) reaction. He repeated his initial sentiment, but elaborated with a "how?!?"
Fitz was next to recover. He grabbed the hilt of the weapon off the floor and backed away from Jackson warily. He twisted it in his hand, intrigued and terrified of the thing all at the same time. How the heck did someone engineer this three foot long weapon to fit inside of a ballpoint pen? There was no way that was possible without some sort of magic. Heck, the thing was at least five pounds now; he doubted that its smaller form maintained the same weight.
What the heck happened to conservation of mass?
Then again, Captain America's shield defied all laws of physics. Why shouldn't the teen's magical sword/pen do the same?
His mind scrambled to try and find a logical explanation, but there wasn't one. He started with the first question he had asked. "Where- how did you get this?"
Percy sighed, obviously trying to figure out a decent answer. Fitz half expected him to try and get away with another "I found it on the floor," response, but his was much more unexpected. They should know by now that this kid had much more to him than what met the eye.
"It was in my pocket," he said finally, which didn't answer anything. Hunter beat Fitz to the punch. "Cut the crap. We had it up in the lab when you got down here. So how did it end up in your hands?"
The dark haired teen looked tiredly at Annabeth. Fitz scrunched his nose. Could he not answer the question by himself?
The curly blonde, who's hair was currently a mess on top of her head, huffed. She knelt down to pick the cap of the former pen off of the floor and handed it to the British agent before opening her mouth. "It's linked to him. If he looses it, it eventually reappears back on him."
Hunter set his beer down on the floor and rubbed his chin. "Okay then! That solves the mystery. We'll be leaving now... bloody, don't you have a better explanation than that?"
Percy shrugged, a "whatever" expression plastered on his face. "Magic?"
The curly haired engineer scoffed before he could stop himself, doubt creeping into his mind, despite the suggestive clues. He wouldn't think about it now. If only Simmons were here...
Hunter began interrogating Chase on the origins of the weapon. "You said this was from an antique shop," he stated pointedly. "I've been to antique shops, and all I've found is mildew and weird statues."
"Well, it's an antique. "
"Of what??"
Fitz jumped in. He had gotten the chance to research a significant amount on the double edged blade. "It's Greek," he narrowed his eyes at Percy, suddenly suspicious of his olive complexion and dark hair. His mind jumped back to his days at the Academy. He was shy and hadn't really associated with any of the other students other than... well, Simmons, but he distinctly remembered being deathly jealous of one of her guy friends, who had been second generation Greek. His dark, flawless olive skin and dark brown hair rivaled over his pale Scottish self...
In the end, though, he had her last.
Well, if she was still here.
"Hey man, are you alright?"
Fitz hadn't even realized tears had formed into his eyes. He took a second to recompose himself before blinking rapidly in an attempt to hide the evidence. Despite being interrogated, the teen still seemed genuinely interested in his well being.
And it was annoying. It was hard to hate him like that. He debated telling him so, but resisted the impulse.
"Your mom isn't Greek," he said instead. He glanced behind him to make sure the green blinking light for the audio was running. Luckily, it was.
Hunter shot Fitz a confused look before turning back to Annabeth. "Is it just me, or was that the most random question?" The girl glanced at him for a millisecond but ignored the question.
Jackson's face mimicked that of Hunter's. "Yeah, man, if you're going to interrogate me, do it right. If you're trying to ask me who my dad is, don't go the roundabout way. I already know you know who my mom is."
"Your dad is Greek," Fitz declared, more as a statement than a question, although he didn't know how the connection between his heritage and weapon would help him.
"I already told you. I don't know my dad," Percy explained, picking at a fraying string at the bottom of the fitted black shirt they had given him to wear. He scowled and looked up. "My mom says he died at sea, but I think that's the nice way of saying he abandoned her with me before I was born."
Annabeth blinked. Silently, she was in awe of her boyfriend's acting... although she knew the bitterness of the abandonment wasn't exactly all false. She could relate. She and her dad were on better terms now, but given he hadn't exactly cared when she ran away at seven still strung. And her own mother, Athena? Well, she sent her on a quest to her death. So, yeah. She got the bitterness thing.
"I still don't get how this is relevant," Hunter asked. He never received an answer, which frustrated him. "Why is your dad Greek? I missed something."
"My dad isn't Greek," Percy argued. "We live in Manhattan... gods, why does it even matter?" he complained. "Next are you going to ask me about Calculus? Because I know nothing about that either."
Annabeth snickered. "Or history, or english, or chemistry-"
"Hey now," he shot her a playful look.
Hunter took a swig of his beer before shaking his head. "So, what, do you have any magic items we should know about?"
Annabeth shook her head and crossed her arms when he looked at her. Hunter's eyes dropped to her collarbone, where a necklace full of beads hung off. They all seemed to have different patterns all them, and he was particularly suspicious of the ring hanging off of it. If a pen could be a magic sword, why couldn't a ring?
Call him paranoid, but Hunter reached out and pointed at it. "Sure, then what's this mate?" he demanded.
"It's her dad's college ring," Percy stood up quickly, towering over Hunter threateningly. Fear coursed through Annabeth. They couldn't take her camp necklace. It was everything. "You already took her dagger, she's clean."
"And I trust you why?" Hunter demanded, although he didn't have much an intimidation factor when he was a head shorter than the guy. He wanted to take the necklace just to spite him, now.
The boy's sea green eyes hardened. "Don't you think if the ring was a sword, she would've used it by now?" The two stared at each other, but the intensity of Jackson's gaze eventually caused Hunter to flinch and turn away. "I'm done," he announced, sending an uneasy look in the direction of the sword. "This is weird, I'm tired... I'm done."
Fitz couldn't help but agree with him. If they were going to interrogate the two teenagers, he might as well leave it to the professionals. He was just the engineer. He had found the weapon, and although his curiosity was raging, he had bigger problems to worry about, like finding Jemma. This was Coulson's problem.
He backed away from the girl and boy towards the door slowly, waiting for them to try something. As the door opened and the two agents stepped out, Percy shouted from inside, "If you lose the sword again, you'll know where it'll be," he smirked. He patted his pockets. The door slid shut (without a glitch this time). Fitz and Hunter shared a look.
"Well, someone better tell Coulson."
Hunter left it at that and marched away towards the direction of the elevator, leaving Fitz standing awe struck with an alien 0-8-4 in his hands.
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb(how is that 1600 words nothing happened what the heck)bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
Daisy paced the length of the Quinjet nervously. They were twenty minutes out from San Francisco, and her mind wouldn't stop racing. Getting Coulson to let her on this mission was like pulling teeth, and she didn't have the time or opportunities to screw this up. She had a few agents with her, but only three. She knew there was no chance of the stubbord, ruggishly handsome blonde doctor agreeing to come with her if she was surrounded by an army of armed people. He hated her line of work as it was.
She just hoped he didn't hate her.
The last attempt of getting Lincoln to come back to base with them stuck out like a sore thumb. "My life is in ruins," he had said. She couldn't afford that kind of reaction today. Especially with the updates she was getting back from base: the kid's sword was magic? It could only hurt her and Coulson? There was some connection between Jackson's biological dad and the weapon because they were both Greek? The DNA analysis was coming up inconclusive, so they weren't inhuman? She was afraid that she would miss something big if she didn't come back soon. Plus, it was fun going back and forth with the Jackson kid.
Failure wasn't an option. He needed to come back.
She was struggling with objectifying the mission. Emotions surged through her. She wouldn't admit it, but she missed him, a lot. It hurt when he seemed more content alone than with her last time she had saw him, and the idea of him being killed or abducted by the ATCU sent chills down her spine. It occurred to her that they were after her too, but luckily she could buy some time as a solid member of what was left of S.H.I.E.L.D. Lincoln didn't have that head start.
She repeated the mission specs in her head on a loop. Land, unload, spy, talk, and, hopefully, go home with subject in tow. If there information was right, he'd be popping up at some café around noon. She found it interesting that he'd chosen to hide right outside of one of the most populated cities, in the United States at least. Hide in plain sight, she guessed. Although she assumed it would be nearly impossible for him to get a job anywhere, given any background check would be the equivalent of shooting screaming flares into the sky for law enforcement and vigilantes alike.
(Work at Baskin Robins, Lincoln...)
"Hey, we're landing," Agent Roekey popped his head from the cockpit into the back. Daisy looked up and forced a smile onto her face. "Great, thanks. Any new intel?"
The older man shook his head. "Still looking at Evan's," he said in reference to the small family run diner. It was crazy that S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to figure out the small schedule of his in nearly two days, especially somewhere that wasn't typically busy.
Maybe she needed to figure out where they got this information.
Brushing the thought out of her head, she knelt down to retie the laces on one of her old, beat up combat boots she had chosen for the occasion. Perhaps the short denim shorts and baggy band tee weren't the best outfit to pair them with, but at least they disguised the gun holster wrapped around her waist. All she had to do was blend in. Well, and convince him to come with her, but she had already stressed about that. Now she needed to focus.
As the Quinjet descending, it dawned on her that the weather for this mission wasn't exactly ideal. Rain began to bounce off of the windshield as soon as the plane retreated under the clouds. It wasn't an onslaught of water by any means, but just enough to fill her stomach with dread. She hoped today wouldn't be an example of prophetic fallacy.
No. It would work, it had to. (She should probably stop doing this. She was going to end up jinxing herself).
She adjusted the band shirt for a final time. It was time.
*missionimpossibletheme*
A few bells hung off the end of the old wooden door jingled slightly when Daisy pushed it open. The small diner hadn't been too difficult to find; it was along one of the main streets of the small town, a strange thing to say about a suburb. She closed the umbrella she had been carrying and looked around expectantly. A waitress glanced up from behind a small bar area and smiled warmly. "Afternoon!" she chirped as she adjusted the light brown apron around her thin waist. She had a deep tan and light blonde hair that was pulled up in a bun on top of her head. Daisy nodded to acknowledge the greeting before continuing her scan. A small family was trying to control an antsy five year old in a corner booth. Two teenage guys sat at one of the middle tables, awkwardly flirting.
And then at one of the barstools, in her sheer surprise, was Lincoln. Of course, they had guessed he would be here by the information they had, but part of her hadn't suspected that he'd actually be... daring enough to come to the same spot at the same time for four days in a row. She wondered if he was getting tired of running. She hoped he wasn't ready to give himself up, just like that.
The dark blue hoodie he was wearing hung off him loosely; he was hunched over on one of the bar stools, swirling a straw in whatever was left of what he was drinking; it looked like water, unless he was drinking straight vodka. She couldn't see his face, but she could tell it was him. It was that weird, cheesy feeling she never knew was real; something that was a mere plot device in romance novels. But she could feel that it was him, too. It wasn't something she could explain. She just knew.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked meekly, tapping his arm. He flinched at her touch, and her stomach lurched when he muttered, "no," before glancing at her. He didn't seem to recognize her at first, but a quick double take left his already tired looking face with a scowl. He quickly grabbed the backpack off of the chair next to him and jumped off the chair. "No," he repeated. "I was just leaving."
Well then.
"Lincoln, wait!" she called out. He didn't look at her, instead diving a hand into the front pocket of the bag and pulling out a twenty. He thanked the waitress hastily before storming out. She followed him, in such a rush she forgot the umbrella. The rain was coming down harder now, drenching her by the time he led her into an alleyway secluded from traffic and people.
"What do you want?" he spat when he spun around to face her. His blue green eyes were lined with red, and bags hung under them. Daisy took a step back to accommodate for the blow, his words holding more malice than she had been expected. Her first response was to get defensive.
"I'm trying to help! When have I ever tried to hurt you? I'm just- look, I'm just trying to help, Lincoln. Just... listen. Please?" she slowed herself down, afraid she was going to chase him away. His eyes flashed with something she couldn't decipher underneath his furrowed eyebrows. Raindrops ran down his cheeks and stuck in his eyelashes like tears as silent thoughts raced through his mind.
She took the silence on his end as a signal to continue. She brushed a damp piece of hair out of her eyes before starting her spiel. "The ATCU isn't going to stop until they have you in their custody, dead or alive. Hiding out? Eventually, you're not going to be able to hide anymore. You're lucky I found you before they did."
"What do you want," he repeated coldly, obviously not appreciating the reality check. He glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment out of habit.
Daisy sighed and pulled her shirt away from her chest; it was beginning to stick awkwardly. "Come back to base with me." He opened his mouth immediately to protest, but she cut him off.
"You'll be safer there. No more running. There are plenty of rooms, you can scream at us for putting you in this freaking situation in the first place, there are showers... there's a killer bar too,"
"I don't drink."
She shot him a skeptical look. "Everything you've been through, and you don't even drink a little?" His face soured when she finished the sentence. She decided not to push that question; obviously there were some things she didn't know about him.
"There's free food, then. Just try it? A couple of days, no strings attached..."
"Do you really expect that you can just drop in randomly and expect me to follow you blindly? Why do you even care so much?"
A beat of silence fell between them, the only sound being the pitter patter of raindrops on the pavement. "I care because you spent so much time pulling me up off the ground. You need help, and I'm not going to turn my back on you."
He looked away . He clenched his jaw before turning back, his words but a whisper. "I'm not worth this trouble, Daisy. Don't waste your time on me."
"Here's the thing," she started, grabbing his hands and forcing him to look at her. "I've been told I'm a very stubborn person," she continued, in reference to one of their past conversations. "If I want to waste my time on an equally frustratingly stubborn, good guy who can't ask for help when he needs it, then I will."
She started to panic when he turned around sharply, but luckily he made no move to walk away. His voice cracked when he spoke. "I'm not a good guy."
"Lincoln. Just because you have these powers doesn't make you a monster. You told me that. You're a good guy. And you deserve not to have to be hunted like an animal. Please. Come with me, even if it's just for a few days."
She grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to face her. Her heart broke at the tears that had rimmed his eyes involuntarily. Fire burned in her eyes as she stared into his. Her gaze dropped to his lips momentarily, and when she looked up, he was nodding. Slowly, but it was a nod all the same.
She gasped in relief and brought him into a hug. She relished in how he relaxed in the embrace. She felt immense guilt for dragging him into this situation; she was just glad that he would finally be able to relax for the first time in a while. "I'll go with you," he mumbled.
"You can trust me. You know that, right?" she asked, pulling away. She scanned his face as she awaited an answer.
"I- I trust you," he confirmed. And she kissed him. Slowly, carefully. It was short and sweet, but
just long enough to prove to him that she wasn't going to leave him anytime soon.
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HEYYYYYY GUYSSS!!! It's Friday, and this turned out to be a decently long gooey chapter... whoops? I hope you enjoy it, haha. It's unedited, although I've read the first part about a thousand times... hopefully it isn't as cringy as I think. Enjoy, and thank you all so so much for all the votes and comments (and reads in general!!!) I want to make dedications to each and every one of you, but unfortunately I don't have enough chapters haha! But seriously... thanks all.
Stay awesome,
JustAnotherGirlmcg