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~Sierra
Chapter 20: A Blue Moon
After I change, I walk outside. Once again, the intense heat strikes me, and I take a deep breath to try to adjust myself. It's a little busier now, with S.H.I.E.L.D. workers running around, most of them unarmed, but a few with large, frightening looking guns. I avoid them, particularly those with dark masks covering their eyes.
I make my way down to the path, hopping over tree roots and the occasional tall leaf. Above me, I hear the chirring and clattering of what I assume are hundreds of tropical birds. I lick my lips, feeling the moisture on them as I continue down the path.
"Where are you going?"
I whirl around to see Loki walking behind me. As he stops, his arm flicks a few of the plants, including a couple large elephant ears that smack me in the face. Loki's smile fades when I tear the leaves off their stalks and throw them to the ground. "And I thought we were all past this, really."
"Past what?" I snap, digging the heel of my boot into one of the leaves. "You killing my brother? I don't think so."
As I walk past him, he pulls me back. "You never answered my question."
"I don't need to answer to you," I say, trying to tear myself from his grasp. He lets go of me easily, causing me to stumble into some of the foliage. Loki grins.
"What's going on here?" Both of us turn around to see Natasha walking up from the path from the tree house.
"Nothing," I snap, ignoring Loki's eyes staring at me. "I'm ready."
"Ah, so you're training her," says Loki, now diverting his attention to Natasha, who merely raises an eyebrow but does nothing else. "Well at least I will have a bit more competition."
I am about to lunge at him when Natasha says quietly, "Let's go, Thea." It takes all of my self restraint to calmly walk past Loki and follow Natasha. I hear him chuckle softly behind me. "Ignore him," says Natasha as she leads me up towards a clearing slightly elevated from the ground. "He's just trying to cause trouble."
"God of mischief," I mutter.
The clearing, as it turns out, is a giant training field about half the dimensions of a football field. There are soldiers and agents scattered around, many practicing their skills with dumbbells, lances, guns, bows and arrows, and even their bare hands. I find myself overwhelmed by the scene and hesitantly follow Natasha towards a corner of the field, where Barton is firing arrows at a target some sixty feet away.
"Stark radio?" asks Barton. I jerk my head up and look at Natasha eagerly, but she is just shaking her head.
"No. But he said later today."
Barton nods, then looks at me. "Well, let's get started. Do you want to start with fighting or bow and arrow?"
"Aren't they both fighting?"
"True. But I consider the bow as more of an art." With a snap of his arm, Barton whips out his bow and flings it to its full size. He then seizes an arrow from the quiver on his back and before I can blink has sent it hissing through the air. It lands in the exact center of the target with a short, final, and deadly thwick.
I consider both options. "Fighting. Then bow."
Barton nods. "I'll let you go with Natasha then, and catch up with you later."
Natasha hands me a pair of thick gloves. "Put these on." With a glimmer of a smile, she says, "I'm not going to be easy on you."
She keeps her word. For the next two hours, Natasha leads me through a grueling process of combat. Within minutes, I feel beads of sweat trickling on my forehead. When I try to wipe them from my eyes, Natasha says, "Don't waste your time. Seconds can mean you survive." She whirls me around and I fall to the cushioned ground, hard. "Or you die."
With a grunt, I get up. This continues and when Barton arrives to give Natasha a break (but not me, apparently), it only gets worse. He is even less gentle than Natasha, and I thought she was tough. When I try to get a running start and kick out at him, I miss by inches, but is enough of a width to give him the opportunity to grab my ankle, then slam me to the ground.
Panting, I get up, trying to figure out how to channel my inner anger to unleash the fighting skills I had had when attacking Loki. These exercises though, are apparently not only to train me physically, but mentally as well. I cannot seem to summon that hot fury I had possessed earlier.
Eventually, I am panting, sore, and bruised. I have successfully struck Natasha and Barton about five times each, and although I would normally count these as progress, in lieu of the fact that I've been out here for more than three hours, it is not much.
"Good job, kid," says Barton, patting my shoulder and handing me a canteen of water, which I gulp down.
Natasha too, offers me a smile and hands me a bag of ice, which, wincing, I apply to my bruised leg. "We might make a fighter out of you yet."
I nod, still busy gulping down my water to really answer. I am sweaty and in pain anyway, and don't feel like talking.
Clint walks me back up to the tree house (which I find out has an actual name: the Hub. Although Clint calls it "the nest") and leaves me to shower and to change. The hot water feels marvelous on my sore muscles, and I take my time, not eager to go to dinner anyway.
As it turns out, however, dinner is an individual thing here at the Hub, and I grab some bread, cheese, and fruit from the cafeteria, ignoring the curious stares of the dozens of S.H.I.E.L.D. workers wandering around. I retire to Natasha's and my small bedroom, and rummage through my bag while chewing on a piece of crust. I find several outfits, a toothbrush and all of that sort of thing and a few books which I know I will put to use.
At the bottom, however, I find something interesting. It's a frame, with beautiful iron curls across the edges. A twinge of recognition hits me, and then a pang of remembrance as I flip it over. It's a photograph. Me. Leah. My father. My mother. I remember when this picture was taken. We had just gotten back from our annual mountain trip, and my neighbor had snapped the photo at her house. We are all smiling. All look like there isn't a care in the world.
I sit back against the wall, across the mattress as the falling sun reflects across the room, staring at the picture and stroking the sharp edges of the crack on the front of the glass, seeming to separate Leah and me from our parents. How I came to get this, I don't know.
My answer comes a few minutes later. I fumble through the back pack some more, looking for any more relics of my past life. I find two pieces of paper, folded up neatly. Curious, I unfold the first one- the hand writing is unrecognizable, messy but in orderly lines across the pages. It's a letter. I take a deep breath and begin to read.
Dear Thea,
I don't think you want to be reading this, which is why I put it in here so that you might find it when you aren't mad at me. It's been a few hours since you got mad at me at lunch today. I think now, it's time that I explain a few things.
I knew your parents. I knew them very well, in fact. We worked together, but worked together in secret. Your mother had discovered something, Thea. She had discovered something that she thought would revolutionize the world, but then realized its true powers and abandoned the project. At least that's why I thought she abandoned her and your father's works. But I found out later, it was because of you. When you were born, her whole outlook on life changed.
I watched you grow, Thea, both you and Leah into the girl you are now. I never met you, though, because your parents and I didn't want you to associate me with their past discoveries. But I care about you immensely, and that, I think, is why I have latched onto the both of you so much. When your parents died, I did not just lose my co-workers. I lost two of my closest and most trusted friends.
I know you resent my being around Leah. But understand that it is because of something that I used to have, and two people that I used to know.
Love,
Jane
PS: (This photo and letter, I found in your apartment when I went back to investigate. I did not read the letter- it belongs first and foremost to you.)
I am trembling as I pick up the second letter.
Thea,
I am writing this urgently, because I do not know how much longer I have. I tell you this because it can help save you and your sister, and perhaps even more people than that. Perhaps the world.
Your father and I are scientists, but we also study those worlds beyond us. Our proof of these other worlds came as an eye-opener when your brother was killed in New York. But Thea, you need to know some of these secrets, because my time is numbered.
The Imeldi are a race unknown to anyone. The three of us discovered their existence shortly after the incident in New Mexico- the one where your father and I had to leave for a business trip briefly with your aunt. They are cruel, though, this we know, and desire power.
Your father and I found something in New Mexico, buried deep within one of the bat caves. This is a substance, not quite liquid, not quite solid- sort of like plasma. It comes from the far reaches of the world of the Imeldi. But it can be activated only on a blue moon, when our two planets align perfectly, along with the moon. The Imeldi seek this substance, which your father and I have called Mantra, to activate it and take over the earth as we know it and perhaps the universe. You must do all you can to protect the Mantra. There is only one other place it could possibly be, besides the sample your father and I took from the caves. It will be hidden at one of the places of convergence, but not England and not Russia.
Thea, I am sorry, because this letter is probably confusing to you. But it is the last legacy your father and I can offer you and your sister. My time left is limited, and I regret what I have done in the past- dabbled in the astronomy of distant lands. It has not only probably cost your father and I our lives but has also cost us precious time with the most important things in the world to us: you and Leah.
Protect Leah, sweet heart. Hopefully, I am over-analyzing (as usual!) and all will be well, and you will not even come across this letter. But if not, keep your sister with you at all times. Find Jane, my old colleague.
I regret my actions, but my heart is glad that I have seen you grow up to be the young woman you are now. Your father and I love you very much, and you and Leah are what has driven us each and every day. You are a remarkable girl, Thea. You are brave, kind, and smart. You are loyal to those you love and will not shrink at what must be done. But remember to live life at its fullest- that is the mistake your father and I have made.
I love you so much, darling.
Forever,
~Mama
My lip is trembling, and tears dot the pages. I sink down onto the floor, sobbing, clutching one of the only things that I have left of my mother and father. Of my past life. My parents had died for their passion, but unnecessarily so. I now regret every mistake I have made towards them, every attitude, every snark remark, every shout I have ever directed towards them. I wish so much now to take it all back, to be able to be wrapped up in my father's arms or to hear the comforting voice of my mother. And even to be with Bryce again, my best friend.
My mom and dad had risked everything to help the world. They had sacrificed their lives for the lives of others. Their work was perhaps one of the most important in the world. Yet my mother's last action towards me was to write, I love you.
My body racks with sobs, and I tremble violently, finally dropping the letters back into the bag and crying against the floor until sleep finally rescues me from my tormented thoughts and takes me away.
~Nobody's POV~
The room is silent as a shadow slides into the room. It's empty, except for Thea, who is lying on the cold floor, tear stains on her cheeks and a frame clutched in her hand, her grip only loosened by sleep.
The shadow kneels by the girl and picks her up, lying her gently on the bed. She stirs, but does not wake. He catches the picture right before it falls to the ground and puts it on the table next to the bed, cocking his head as he looks at it, recognizing. Having enough, he sits down next to her and looks down at her with a clenched jaw. Then, ever so gently, he reaches forward and pushes away some of her hair that has stuck to the tears on her face.
Finally, he stands, turning around and walks towards the door, where a slow shaft of moonlight is filtering through the opening. An obelisk moon, not quite full, but getting there.
At the last moment, he turns around, looking over his shoulder at the young girl illuminated by the moonlight.
"I'm sorry, Thea," Loki whispers.
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