Maybe some Dean calling Sam Chief and Sam finding a cute little nickname for Dean?please and thank you!
This must be part of an ask meme or prompt I reblogged a bit ago, thank you! (I thought I’d get something dirty--which is always fun--but this is a nice surprise. It may have turned out differently than you intended, but I hope you like it.) <3
“Hey Chief, hardly working?”
Sam looked up from the carburetor on the desk. “What?”
“Which part went over your head?” Dean asked with a grin as he strolled into the garage.
Rain hammered the tin roof overhead, and Dean hadn’t cared enough to over himself on his way from the house. Did Sam notice the water running down Dean’s neck? Goddamn right he did. Did he make his notice obvious? Goddamn no he didn’t.
He went back to comparing his textbook on Automotive Technician Training to the piece of actual machinery in front of him. “I’m seventeen. ‘Chief’ is for a kid who just connected his bat to a baseball for the first time.”
“Good, now I know what to call you for the rest of your life.”
“Go away, Dean.”
“Wow, Sammy, what crawled up your--”
“Sam.”
“Jesus.” Dean knocked loudly on the table. “Excuse me, Samuel Winchester? Do you know what crawled up Sammy’s ass and died?”
“I’m concentrating,” said Sam, finally looking his brother in the eye. “And you’re being annoying on purpose.”
He sighed, long and heavy in a ‘you caught me’ kind of way. “Yeah, because you’re taking Auto Shop and won’t let me help you.”
The reply sounded defensive, but there was a hurt ego somewhere in there that Sam easily pinpointed. Any time Dean was robbed of his big brotherly duties, he sulked.
Dean went on, “You want to do everything yourself. Got that message when you were, like, four. And that’s cool, I get it. But every time I get within two feet of that stupid carburetor you get too pissy to handle. You wanna tell me what’s so special about that stupid thing, or do I get to call you Chief until you punch me in the face?”
Sam considered it for a moment, then reluctantly closed his textbook. “If I don’t learn this myself, I’ll never get to work with you and dad.”
“Work with us? On what, Baby?”
He acted as though there was no blood rushing to his cheeks. “Yeah.”
“But we can teach you how to work on Baby by working on Baby,” Dean said.
“Not really. You guys still talk to me about cars like I’m twelve.”
“And instead of telling me this you decided death by textbook was the better option.”
Sam set his jaw and moved to re-open the textbook. “Whatever, Dean, just--”
“--no, hey,” Dean leaned over the table and put his hand on the book, bringing his face close enough to Sam’s that his seriousness was clear. “I’m not dad. You can tell me things. That’s pretty much been my motto since you could talk.”
“I know,” Sam replied quietly. He was trying like hell not to sit back in his seat like a coward...or move in closer like an idiot. With that kind of distraction, a few words slipped out he never would have said otherwise. “I also wanted to, kind of, surprise you.”
A slow smile spread across Dean’s face. “That so, Chief?”
Wow, uh...suddenly that nickname didn’t sound so stupid anymore. Still, the sarcasm shot out of him on reflex. “That’s right, Boss.”
Dean’s smile took on an undeniable edge. Whether it was playfulness or a challenge was anyone’s guess.
“You know,” said Dean, mockingly thoughtful, “maybe Chief isn’t the right nickname for you. I’m thinking Bitch fits you a lot better.”
Sam’s stomach clenched down hard. There was something in the way Dean had said it, like it came from sibling affection, rivalry, and the kind of heat that Sam had only dreamed of. His head was light, almost woozy at what Dean had just done to him. If anything, he wanted to serve it as well as he took it, but his mind was a pure blank.
“Do what you want, Jerk,” was the only comeback he could muster.
Dean laughed at that--it was pretty lame--and straightened up. “Let’s go take a look at Baby while you try to come up with something better than that. Shouldn’t take long, and a little rain is nothin’.”
Sam stood carefully to follow his brother, minding the hard-on in his jeans just long enough to catch up. As they left the garage and got soaked in the rain, Sam realized he was about to watch a sopping wet Dean work on the car. He honestly didn’t know if he could handle it.
Characters: Willow Wren, Phil Coulson, Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz, Daisy Johnson
Prompt/Tag:
“Don’t touch me.”
“here’s a glass of whatever.”
Summary: Willow wakes up in an unfamiliar place
Timeline: March 2016
Song: Rocket Launch - Bear McCreary
A/N: ugh i love aos SO MUCH and i’d incorporate them more if the story allowed for it but i gotta pick my battles so to speak
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I woke up in another laboratory, machines beeping around me, and several needles stuck in my arm. I wanted them out, but when I tried to move, I realized I was strapped to this hospital bed as well. Again.
Don’t talk to these people. Don’t listen to what they say. This could still be enemy territory. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a few figures beyond the area I was being held in, discussing something at a lab bench. Both had accents and they bantered back and forth in short jabs. Just to test, I flexed my palms as much as I could, and at least try to summon a breeze. The papers on the nearby table fluttered, and it caught the attention of the people at the bench.
“Woah, hey, don’t do that,” said the man, holding up his hands. “Jemma, she’s awake.”
The other woman hurried over and checked one of the machines before reading notes off a tablet. “Hi,” she said, and even though it sounded friendly, her wide eyes indicated a measured caution. “You’re safe. You’re at a SHIELD base.” She pointed at herself. “Agent Simmons. And that’s Agent Fitz.” He gave a small wave. “How are you feeling?”
When I didn’t respond, she looked at Agent Fitz for help, but he looked equally uncomfortable. “I’ll let Coulson know,” Agent Simmons murmured. She typed out a message on the tablet and then put it down on a table. “Mine if I…?” she pointed to the IV line and I pulled my arm away as far as the straps would let me. Don’t touch me.
“I’m going to take it out,” Agent Simmons explained. I watched as she unstuck the tape and slide the needle out. “See? That wasn’t bad, was it?”
She hummed as she checked the other machines, occasionally shooting a look at the man. “You heal fast,” she commented. “But it’s lucky Coulson found you when he did.” Agent Simmons wrote a few more things down. “Never treated someone with wings before,” she said, almost to herself, and Agent Fitz cleared his throat, cutting her off.
“I’m going to undo these now,” Jemma said softly, gesturing to the restraints. “Can I trust you not to do anything?”
I looked around the lab, listened to the conversations in the hallway beyond. My ribs hurt when I breathed, and I had never felt so weak in my life. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
“Just... promise me you won’t pull out the needle in your other arm,” she said. “Please?”
I nodded once.
Someone knocked on the door frame of the lab and it was the same man who had come to Marty’s apartment, a time that felt like years ago now. Remember when that was my biggest worry?
“Miss Wren, it’s good to see you with us again. How are you? Phil Coulson, we’ve met before.” He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. “Agent Simmons said all your tests checked out. You’re going to recover just fine. I’m so sorry for what you went through there.”
So, what happens to me now? Where do I go from here? This is exactly what Jessica warned you about so long ago. I’m never getting out of here. I went from HYDRA to SHIELD. What’s the difference? I’m still trapped.
“When you’re ready, we’d like to assess you for the Index,” Coulson continued. I began to shake my head slowly. “Look,” he said. “We know. But this is the protocol. It’s for everyone’s safety.” There was so much he wasn’t saying—surely, he must have known about all those HYDRA agents and about Marty and who I was and what I had been doing. There was no way he didn’t know. The fact that it hadn’t been mentioned yet made me nervous. He offered a smile and then got up and walked over to where Agent Fitz and Agent Simmons were working, back at the lab bench.
“Has she spoken to you yet?”
“Not a word,” Agent Simmons replied. “She seems petrified.”
“Well, that can be expected.” He looked back over at me. “Stay with her. I’ve made some calls.”
“We should give her something to eat,” Agent Fitz offered. “She’s probably starving.”
Shortly after the conversation, I dozed off, and when I woke up, there was another familiar face in the doorway of the medical area, holding a tray and several wrapped items under her arm. Agent Johnson? Is that who it was?
“Hi,” she said. “Mind if I sit here?” She pointed to the space at the end of the bed. I shifted my legs and finally sat up, using the pillow as support. “Fitzsimmons thought it would be good for you to eat something. So, they recommended this from the canteen,” she said, holding out the tray, and I saw a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bag of crackers, and a bowl of cut fruit. “But I got you some better things as well.” She produced a package of pop-tarts and two Rice Crispy Treats. “Don’t tell Jemma.”
I almost smiled, and she then placed a glass down on the table next to me. “And here’s a glass of whatever. She said it’s some sort of electrolyte thing. I don’t know. But it’s grape flavored.” I picked at the sandwich and pulled a small chunk out from the middle on one half, touching it to my lips and finally eating it. Somehow, it was the most delicious peanut butter and jelly I had ever tasted.
“You can call me Daisy, by the way. And you’re Willow, right? I remember meeting you.” She sighed. “Look, take it from me, these are genuinely good people. You can trust them. All right? I know you hardly know me, but I’ll promise you that if it makes you feel better.”
I looked up and made eye contact, but I didn’t say anything.
“Coulson says you have abilities, right?” She smiled. “I do, too. I know how weird this all seems, the Index, trying to control them, feeling like you have to hide. You don’t have to do that here, okay? We’ve all seen some pretty weird shit.”
I heard footsteps in the hallway beyond the lab and turned and watched the door, where about five seconds later, Agent Simmons entered again. “What are you doing bothering her?” she exclaimed to Daisy. “She needs her rest!”
By now, neither of them seemed to expect a response. “I have to take one more blood sample,” said Agent Simmons. “Is that all right?”
I held out my arm and looked away as she poked it with the needle, which Daisy watched the scientist. “Jeez, she’s not going to have any left at this rate,” she joked.
“Coulson asked me to be thorough,” Agent Simmons huffed. “I’m sorry to keep sticking you like this,” she said to me. “We just wanted to make sure we don’t miss anything.”
They hung out longer, the two of them chatting back and forth as Agent Simmons ran the samples. Eventually, Agent Fitz returned to the lab as well and when I fell asleep again, the three of them were joking around about something one of their friends had done. I found myself wondering if Peter had gotten my message by now, if Ned knew what happened, or Jessica. What happens now?
Agent Johnson must have noticed me watching them, because she waved a hand, motioning me over. “You can sit over here if you’d like.” Agent Simmons shot her a look and Agent Johnson scoffed at her. “It’s just across the room.”
“Coulson said…”
“Her… uh… powers…” Agent Fitz interrupted.
“You’re not going to do your airbending or whatever, are you?” Agent Johnson asked me. “See? She’s fine. Come on.”
I slowly climbed out of the hospital bed and walked over to the lab bench they were sitting at, putting up a stool. I picked at a loose thread on the hospital gown while the others let me into the circle. They continued to talk about random things, missions, or whatever, pretending like I was a normal part of the conversation even though I still hadn’t said a word. The three of them stayed late until Agent Johnson got called away and Agent Simmons sent me back to bed, mock-horrified when she saw how late it had gotten.
“Shame they’re picking her up tomorrow,” I overheard Agent Fitz say as I lay my head down on the crinkly pillow. “Think Daisy likes having another powered person around. Even if she doesn’t say much.”
“Hasn’t said anything,” Agent Simmons murmured. “Don’t know how they plan to interview her tomorrow.”
Who’s coming tomorrow? And why? Where am I going now?
“You know, Romanoff used to be a SHIELD agent,” said Agent Fitz.
“Everybody knows that.”
“I didn’t in the beginning.”
“That’s because you’re clueless about those things.”
“Am not!”
I shut my eyes and tried to block out the rest of the lab and get some sleep. One hour at a time, even if I couldn’t imagine living the way I was anymore. One hour at a time. I didn’t care enough to escape, and I didn’t have anywhere to escape to. I was stuck with whatever this was, whoever was coming, even if I didn’t see the point in any of it. I’m not worth all this. I did what I set out to do. What happens next, I don’t care. If I had died at that base, that would have been okay, too. Maybe it would have been for the better.
Characters: Willow Wren, Kate Gray, Marty Fields, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds
Prompt/Tag:
“Oh no, you are not dragging me into this.”
“It’s about time.”
Summary: Willow and her friends goof around after play rehearsal
Timeline: November 2015
Song: Seventeen - Heathers
A/N: is willow a theater kid? well....?
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“Come on, guys,” I said to Peter and Ned. “Kate’s been waiting!” We were walking the halls after a decathlon meeting, debating answers, and rolling our eyes at one of our teammates, Flash. “Marty and Annabel are going to be there, too. She says she has news for us.”
“Oh, this is going to be good,” said Ned. “I hope she found bigfoot by now.”
I laughed. “Probably not.”
“Who would have thought we discovered aliens before bigfoot?” Peter asked.
“Okay, can someone explain the aliens thing to me,” I asked, “because I’m still not a hundred percent sure—”
Ned pushed the auditorium doors open and Kate yelled us down from the stage. “It’s about time!”
“Sorry,” I said. “We ran late! How was rehearsal?”
“Long,” said Kate. “Way too long. Kind of wish I did tech like you.”
“Until hell week,” I said. “Then it’s going to be… well… hell.”
“Okay,” said Kate. “Here’s the deal. Peter, Ned, you too.” The auditorium doors opened again, and Marty came jogging down the aisle to the stage.
“I’m here!” he said.
“Look how the tables have turned,” I said.
“I’m not late,” Marty said. “Kate just texted me.”
“Okay,” said Kate. “So, we have a few more weeks before the fall musical and we’re wondering if you guys would be interested in helping us fill out our chorus on one or two songs. We need more male voices, but also voices in total.”
“Oh, no, you’re not dragging me into this,” Marty said. “No. I don’t sing.”
I shifted my stance uncomfortably, thinking about being on the stage in front of an audience of people. “Yeah, I don’t know Kate. We’d need costumes…”
“You can wear normal clothes,” said Kate. “Just something nice.”
“I’m in,” said Ned, and our heads all turned. “I don’t know. Could be fun.”
Peter stood with his arms crossed as he thought, and we made brief eye contact. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about our conversation only nights before, but it seemed like it was something we were going to bury.
“I’ll do it,” I said, not even believing my own voice. “Sure. C’mon, Peter. Marty.”
“Fine,” Peter sighed, but he began to smile. “Do we get our names in the little books? It’s just for like one or two songs?”
“Yup,” said Kate. “Marty?”
The peer pressure was on, and Marty finally related. “Fine, okay fine.”
“Yes!” said Kate. She was elated and began filling the boys in while I sat on the edge of the stage, my legs dangling off. My right hand absently moved to trace the letters hidden underneath my upper left arm. Sumerkey. I thought back to the Facility, the things they used to teach us about attachment or friendship. The world will never understand your abilities. But what you are doing is a gift to humankind. Everywhere you go, chaos will follow.
But it didn’t. I’m still here.
I was shaken from my thoughts as Kate turned on the auditorium sound system and the boys started goofing around, dancing to the number that was playing and half-remembering lyrics. I watched as she sprinted back up to the stage and climbed up, gesturing for me to follow. I leaped up after her and as Kate used a remote to switch between songs, Marty and I reenacted the number we had seen the cast work on when sitting in on a rehearsal the week before.
Peter and Ned broke into a fit of laughter as Marty and I hit the chorus, belting the lyrics at each other, and Kate cranked the volume.
“Yes—hit those harmonies!” Kate yelled, and Marty and I faltered out into embarrassed giggles before continuing. I felt euphoric in that moment, running around the stage with my friends in an exaggerated performance and almost didn’t a quiet creak in the tech booth. My gaze lifted up to the booth in the dark back of the auditorium and I saw a figure standing up there, but I couldn’t make out who it was, or how long they had been up there.
It’s probably a teacher. Someone checking in on all the noise.
I turned back to my friends, determined to let myself remember and forget on my own terms.
Characters: Willow Wren, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Kate Gray, Marty Fields, Jeri Hogarth
Prompt/Tag: “Are you trying to scare the mailman again? I think he is immune to our bullshit.” x / @dewysbride
Summary: Willow celebrates the holidays with her friends.
Song: Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree – Brenda Lee
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I’ve never celebrated the holidays with anyone before. The Facility ignored birthdays and holidays, even when we pleaded with them as we got older. I have vague memories from when I was a young child, before the Facility, but nothing else. A holiday party is a first for me.
Peter, Ned, and Kate come over to celebrate and do a secret Santa swap. As Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree blasts through dual speakers, Peter and I jump around the living room area, headbanging to the Christmas classic. Marty and Kate mosh nearby, while Ned is jumping on the couch.
“DECK THE HALLS WITH BALLS OF HOLLY!” I yell.
“Those aren’t even the right lyrics!” Kate yells back.
Peter and I nearly topple onto the tree before I jump onto the coffee table and continue to boogie.
“Okay, someone cut Willow off the sugar!” says Marty.
“Okay, guys, let’s do, this,” I say, climbing down. “Secret Santa time.”
“Quiet down,” says Marty. “You’re gonna make my dad yell at us.” Marty’s dad had gone into his room around seven and hadn’t been seen since.
“Okay, yeah,” I say. “True.”
We gather around the coffee table and pull out of respective gift bags. The rules were for no actually serious presents, so we were in for a treat. “Who wants to go first?” Kate asks. I’ve never done a gift exchange before, so I just sit there until Marty volunteers himself. “I’ll go,” he says, and hands a large bag to Ned. “I had you!”
Ned tears through the tissue paper and pulls out a giant, plush Doge blanket. “Oh, no way!”
Marty grins. “Thought you would like that.”
“I’m putting this on my bed,” Ned says, and wraps the blanket around him. “Dope.” He hands a bag to Kate. “I had you.”
She opens the bag and pulls out a rolled-up poster that she unrolls. “Yoo, and X-Files poster! Yes, Ned!” The amateur paranormal investigator holds up the poster in triumph. “We should watch more episodes over winter break,” she says, before handing a bag to me. “Willow, you’re up.”
My face reddens, even for a Leo this is a little too much attention for me. Don’t ask me why. I pull back the tissue paper from a rather tall bag and out comes a green umbrella, pasted on both sides with Shrek’s face.
Kate and the others burst into laughter. “I don’t know how when it rains you come to school wetter than everyone else,” she says. “You needed a fucking umbrella.”
I laugh and open up the umbrella to reveal the grinning Shrek. “Wicked,” I say, not mentioning that an umbrella won’t help when I’m late and flying to school in the rain. It’s the thought that counts, plus something I could totally rock when I’m grounded.
“Okay,” I say, “I had Peter. And this is a weird one.”
I hand him a bulky bag. “There’s two things in there,” I said. The first was a slogan tee-shirt that I had seen at a comic store, with some nerdy chemistry joke on it. I didn’t get the joke, but I knew Peter would love it. The other was an old projector I had found on the curb the other day.
“I know it’s a weird gift,” I said, “But I know you like that stuff and you could probably strip it for parts or something.”
“No, this is awesome,” he said, peering through the lens. “I could use this!”
“Dope, okay,” I said. “Phew.”
As Peter handed his gift to Marty, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside the apartment, and before the person had the chance to knock, I was already up and walking to take a peek through the peephole. We’re not expecting anyone.
“Are you trying to scare the mailman again?” Marty asked, watching me peer through the hole. “I think he is immune to our bullshit.”
“There’s no mailman this time of night,” said Kate. “Who is it?”
I groaned. “Awesome.”
Before she could even knock, I opened the door.
“Willow,” said Jeri Hogarth, taking a step back. “How did you—”
“I’m having a party right now,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to talk to William,” said Hogarth. “Not you. We work together. It’s not all about you.”
“Oh,” I said, and then yelled into the living room, “Marty, it’s for your dad!”
Marty’s dad steps out of his room and surveys the chaos that’s unfolded. He rubs his forehead with his fingers. “Uh, yeah, Jeri, we can meet in the study.”
“Have fun!” I yell after them, and turn back to Peter, Ned, and Kate who are still staring.
“My lawyer,” I say quickly. “Also works with Marty’s dad.”
“Wait, so why do you have a lawyer again?” Kate asks. “I’m… like… still not sure how you…”
“My parents’ lawyer,” I say, quickly. “You know… when we lost them… she helped me find a place to live. With Marty.”
“Oh,” said Kate. “Well she seems nice.”
“Nah,” I say. “She’s the worst. Let’s make some hot chocolate or something.”
Summary: Willow reveals her past while trying to discover Kilgrave’s
Timeline: April 2015
Song: Heroes – Peter Gabriel
A/N: Part 3/4
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“I’m sorry, so who are you?” Trish asks me later, as Jessica continues to rewind and replay the final moments of the fight on the camera. “And how old are you?”
“I’m Willow,” I say. “I’m in eighth grade.”
“Jesus, Jessica,” says Trish. “Why is she here?”
“Don’t let her fool you,” says Jessica. “You know the Manhattan Angel everyone was talking about? Yeah, that’s her.”
“Wait,” says Trish. “No.”
“Yup,” Jessica says dryly.
“So,” says Trish, lowering her voice. “She actually flies?”
“I’m right here,” I say.
“Sorry, Willow,” says Trish. “I mean, can you?”
I squirm at the question, and even my wings draw themselves tighter into the sides of my spine. “Yeah.”
I can tell that she wants to ask more questions, people always do, but she falls quiet. Jessica takes a swig from a bottle and replays the video yet again.
“He didn’t have to tell me to do a goddamn thing and he had all the control,” says Jessica.
“Got to admire his commitment,” I say, as we rewatch Kilgrave take hit after hit.
Jessica sighs. “Look at that.” She hits play again and scoffs. “Even I feel sorry for him. I just helped his case.” She takes another drink. “I’m such an idiot,” she says and clicks on Kilgrave’s childhood video again, like she’s turning on Netflix. Kilgrave’s eyes open.
“What if we just walked out of here right now?” Trish asks. “Locked the door and never came back. Just left him. Hope could take the deal. I have enough money to get anyone far away.”
Yeah, you know what? I could almost be on board with that. Wait, no. Could I?
“Trish…” Jessica starts.
“I mean it. As long as he has your attention, as long as you care, he’s in control.”
“I won’t let Hope lose twenty years of her life.”
“Why is she your responsibility?”
“That’s not you,” Jessica says. “That’s your boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” I ask, snapping back to the conversation at hand.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Trish says quickly. “And can you blame him? Kilgrave murdered Simpson’s buddies. He almost died.”
I need to find out who this Simpson guy is. Now things are interesting. I search for Simpsons in the city on my phone. Finally, something to do. As Trish goes on about something with a bomb, I’m scrolling through Whitepages. The video continues to play in the background, and I try to not let the experiments on the screen send my mind back to the Facility.
“Wait, okay,” Trish says again, turning to me. “Where are your parents? Do they know you’re here? Aren’t they worried?”
I pause. “It’s complicated. I don’t actually know them? My parents?”
“What, were you abandoned?” Jessica says, and I realize she’s talking to me.
“Uh… it’s a whole thing,” I say. “I’d rather…”
“Well, we’ve got time,” says Jessica. “This asshole’s not moving.” She’s slightly drunk and Trish shakes her head.
“Leave her alone, Jess, if she doesn’t want—”
“Yeah, abandoned,” I say, wondering if I should quickly make a PowerPoint on my trauma or something. I sigh and try to think of the best way to phrase everything. “My mom… okay… I don’t know who my mom was. But she was part of some secret experiment that I think involved manipulating the DNA of embryos. But instead of giving me in like she was supposed to, she was unreliable, or something. I don’t know. So, she ditched me when she saw how messed up I came out and the homeless guy who saw her leave me said she said something about not wanting to raise a demonchild. Whatever that means.”
“Eh, she got that part right.”
I glare at Jessica and continue. “So homeless guy brings me to the fire station on the same block and those guys take me in. They were going to turn me into the police until they saw the… you know.” I gesture to the wings. “Two of them were married and lived in an apartment above the station. So, I lived at the firehouse. In secret.”
“You were, like, what, a firehouse dog?” Jessica asks.
I cringe. “Basically. I couldn’t leave though. After I had been there for a few days, agents from the experiment started going door to door, looking for me. That’s why they decided to keep me there. In secret. So, yeah. I was there for six years. Didn’t leave much. Didn’t go to school. But my dads were great.”
“What happened?” Trish asks. “How did you end up…?”
“Well, they found me,” I say. “Eventually.” How do I explain this part? “There was a bad fire one night. All hands on deck and firefighters got trapped on the top floors. I left the station, flew in, saved the firefighters. But it got caught on camera.”
“I remember that on the news,” says Trish. “I thought they said it was a hoax.”
“Yeah, of course they did,” I say. “The Facility people came knocking the next day to take me away. And that was it. I went away for the next seven or so years. Until I got out almost a year ago.”
“God, I’m sorry,” says Trish, “That’s fucked up.”
“Eh, it is what it is,” I say, shrugging. “Things are fine now.”
“Are they still looking for you?” Jessica asks.
“Oh, definitely,” I say. “Invested way too much money and time into me and the others not to.” I pause to think again. “They were working on a second part to the experiments,” I say. “Obviously, the… wings… and the physical stuff, that’s all the embryo manipulation. But there was other stuff they were working on. Other powers.”
“What kind?” Jessica asks, looking wary.
“I don’t know,” I confess. “It involved exposure to this thing? It was blue? I don’t remember a lot of that.”
I think back to that phrase from the testing, again. October, shh. It’s time to play Monster.
“Helpful,” quips Jessica.
“I know,” I say. “Totally.”
“Well, that’s tragic as shit,” says Jessica. “Makes this look almost tame,” she says, nodding back at the Kilgrave video, still playing in the background.
“Nah, this almost makes me glad I didn’t know my parents,” I mumble to myself. “At least it was strangers.”
Trish shook her head, watching the video. “Who does that to their own child?”
“No one gets under a person’s skin like their parents,” Jessica says. She looked pensive. “That… could push him to the breaking point.”
“If they’re still alive,” I say.
“He thinks so,” Jessica says. “He looked for them for a long time.”
“Should’ve hired a P.I,” says Trish, and I laugh.
We start panning through the videos, pausing and analyzing. I pull over a chair and look over Jessica’s shoulder, listening, trying to hear something, anything that would indicate a location or a name. It looks more like a homegrown or school lab, not like the shiny and bright place I was raised. We spread out work into the hallways, as Kilgrave opens his food and starts each, chewing slowly and staring at us the entire time.
Trish dozes off on one of the cluttered countertops and as Jessica and I continue to work, I hear a squeaking noise on the glass, followed by a knock. I jump, and Jessica gets up to deal with Kilgrave, clearing her throat.
Exhausted, I sit down on the floor, up against the wall, and lean my head back, shutting my eyes. What time is it? How long have we been here?
“Who is Eric?” Jessica asks aloud, sitting back down. “His brother?”
I open one eye. “Could be another kid from the study?”
I hear her typing and I shut my eyes again, dozing off on the floor. I hear snippets of conversation, even while asleep, but most of it is hushed and scattered, although at one point I catch a halfhearted “She’s almost sweet when she’s asleep,” which I despise. When I wake up hours later, it’s just Trish in the room.
“Where did Jessica go?” I ask.
She tells me that Jessica has a lead on Kilgrave’s parents and went to go track someone down. I sit up and rub my eyes to see Kilgrave still staring at us through the glass.
“He’s been like that for hours now,” says Trish, turning to whisper to me.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
She searches in her bag and pulls out a granola bar. “Hungry?”
I nod, taking it and tearing it open. It’s the shitty crumbly kind, but I don’t complain. She rustles around in her bag a little longer until I hear footsteps from down the hall. Hogarth has returned.
“You’re back,” says Trish, and I see her shove something into her purse.
“Jessica said she had something urgent to show me.” She looks over at me. “She’s still here?”
“Jessica will be back soon,” says Trish.
“Why don’t you both go outside and get some fresh air?” says Hogarth. “Last thing I need is another woman losing her mind.”
Oooh. Drama.
“Yeah, I guess we could use a break,” says Trish. “Come on, Willow.”
We leave the room and take a walk to the end of the hall, where we push the doors open, clamber down the several flights of stairs and step outside for the first time in ages. I take a deep breath and suck in the fresh air. It’s nighttime, now, and the sky calls me, but I keep my feet planted to the ground.
“Sorry about… Jess making you tell us all that stuff,” says Trish suddenly. “I’m sorry that happened. To you.”
“I’m over it,” I say. “Don’t worry.”
“Would you tell someone if you weren’t okay?” Trish asks. “I mean, this stuff… it’s heavy.”
“No worse than what I’ve seen,” I say, quietly. “Trust me.” Eh, I could probably use some therapy or whatever.
She sighs. “I just wish Jessica would get back here already.” She picks up her phone to make a call.
I pace around the lot behind the warehouse, and finally start climbing the stairs of the fire escape, onto the roof, where it’s finally safe to take off my jacket and let my wings breathe as well.
I could just fly away, right now. Forget all of this. Run again.
But, no.
After a few minutes, I fold my wings back in and climb back down the escape, not even letting myself glide on down and enjoy the night. There’s more work to be done.
Prompt/Tag: “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?” x / @dewysbride
Summary: Willow tracks down Jessica Jones to where the P.I. has Kilgrave held prisoner
Timeline: April 2015
Song: Stayin’ Alive – Bee Gees
A/N: This is part 1/4 of this sequence! I had to split it up because it got too long.
—————————————————————————–
Two weeks.
That’s how long it had been since I had last seen Jessica.
I showed up at her apartment. Malcolm was there—sober. He tried to send me away, but then relented and asked me to dispose of a trash bag as far away as I could. I took it and burned it that night out on Coney Island.
Did she kill someone? Did someone kill her?
I called her. No reply.
I called Malcolm, again. He told me to come to the survivors’ group. That was all.
So of course, that meant I had to know what was happening. I knew it had something to do with Kilgrave. I couldn’t sit around knowing that he was still terrorizing the city—and what if Jessica was in trouble? School was on April vacation. I had all the time I needed.
Jeri Hogarth was my next lead, and that’s how I found the warehouse. She was easy to track and all I have to do is wait for a few moments before slipping in behind her. I follow her up sets of stairs and then through a set of double doors. From down the long, dark hall that turned ahead of me, I hear yelling. Kilgrave. The yelling turns to screaming and I suck in a breath and flatten myself against the tiled walls.
I’m way over my head, I shouldn’t be here, this was a mistake.
Except, I have to be here. I will see this through to the end.
“Stop, now!” Hogarth yells from down the hall.
I tune in carefully to the conversation that followed.
“This was your plan?” Hogarth asks. She seems frazzled, and I creep a little further down the hallway. Do I want to see what she’s seeing?
“My plan was to cut his balls off but now I’ll settle for a confession.” Jessica. That’s Jessica.
I reach the turn in the hall and can’t move further without someone seeing me. I didn’t have a plan beyond this. I just needed answers.
As Hogarth starts rattling off with some legal mumbo-jumbo, I slide down the wall and sit, sliding one earbud in and putting on the Bee Gees. Okay, Willow, what’s the plan now? If you leave, you can just forget about all this.
One of my sneakers squeaks on the linoleum tiles. I freeze, but Jessica and Hogarth are arguing loud enough that they don’t seem to hear. I told Marty that I was working on a school project this week. I hope that it keeps him from asking too many questions, because I don’t want him to worry. That boy already has way too much anxiety for an eighth-grader.
“I wanted to see what you had,” I hear Hogarth say.
“One juror, right? That’s all we need is one juror to believe in Kilgrave’s mind control. That’s reasonable doubt.”
“Technically. But… any video would be… would be dismissed as staged.”
A phone in the other room pings and I turn up my music as the argument turns to Hogarth’s personal life. Jessica definitely doesn’t want me here. If Kilgrave’s in there, then I don’t want to be here either.
I get up off the floor, just as footsteps cut through my music and Jessica rounds the corner. I turn to run, just as Jessica calls out “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”
Yup. I’m out of here.
Her footsteps echo in the empty hall as I dash for the door, and she catches me easily just as my hand reaches out for the door. I turn to face her. “Sorry… I’m leaving.”
“Goddammit.” She sighs. “I had a feeling you’d turn up soon.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “But leaving. Okay?”
“No,” said Jessica. “No. I need you here. Hogarth is in there watching Kilgrave. Stay with her. Buddy system.”
“No, I—I thought you wanted me out of this, you said I was just a kid—”
“—yeah, a kid who I saw take a bullet and still manage to terrorize Forty Second. Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“So I’m in this?”
Jessica shakes her head. “Just, don’t look at him, don’t talk to him, don’t listen to him. I’ll be back in a few hours.” She steps out the door and lets it slam behind her.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I take slow, cautious steps down the hall, and as I round the corner, I see a glass chamber and Kilgrave slumped on the floor. My stomach drops to my feet and I freeze in the hallway. He sees me and starts yelling again. Hogarth switches off his comm and throws her hands up in disbelief. “Willow?”
I’m still frozen in the hallway, watching Kilgrave pound on the glass.
“Jessica told me to stay,” I say. I take a step towards the room. And then another. You can do this, Willow. You have to.
I make it into the room and pull my gaze away from Kilgrave, refusing to give him any more attention. “Do you have money?” I ask. “Can we order a pizza or something? I’m starving.”
Prompt/Tag: “I want to believe there is still some good in you.” x
Summary: Willow recalls her first month in NYC
Song: God Help the Outcasts – Ciara Renee, The Hunchback of Notre Dame Ensemble and Cast
—————————————————————————–
When I ran away from the Facility, I didn’t have a plan beyond getting as far away as possible and not getting caught.
I spent months planning the exact day and time of my escape. A Friday evening, after the regular researchers left for the day and my siblings and I were locked down in the dormitories for the weekend. I would leave right after the check-in at midnight, giving myself four hours before they checked in again at four in the morning and noticed I was gone.
A manhunt wouldn’t be able to be mobilized until the morning, and the head researchers, many of whom traveled a long way for work each week, wouldn’t be assembled until Saturday afternoon. And by then I could be long, long gone.
The journey to New York City was the last time I flew for a while, and as I came down off the meds they fed us at the Facility, I left a trail of destruction behind me. I’m not ready to think about that again.
When I got to New York City, by Saturday evening, I was exhausted, cold, and hungry. I had no coat, no money, and the world’s thinnest sneakers on. This was where the fear set in.
What was I thinking? I thought. I shouldn’t be here. I should be back at the Facility with the others. I could be warm in bed now, breakfast on its way.
But no. That was the Facility talking. That’s not what I want anymore. I need to be on my own. I need to breath fresh air again.
It was snowing and my shoes were already soaked through, each step I took emitting a frozen squish from my wet socks. I didn’t know the city or where I was—the last time I had been outside of the Facility, I was six years old, and I hardly remembered those times.
So I kept walking and weaving through the city, block by block, my stomach practically disintegrating itself.
I started getting desperate, checking locked doors as I passed by in the late night, trying to find just a place to sleep or to sit, somewhere out of the cold. There was one large stone building, with tall wooden doors that I finally found myself on the steps of. I tugged on these doors and pulled one of them open, giving myself just enough space to slip inside. It was a church, with a high ceiling and dim lighting, rows and rows of pews as far as I could see.
I had seen them on television, but never in real life. It was quieter than I thought, a welcome relief from the noise of the city, noise that I still wasn’t used to.
I tucked myself into a pew, ready to sleep until I heard a voice.
“Young man, is everything all right?”
I jackknifed up, my wings shaking against my back and a breath hitched in my throat. “What?”
There was a priest standing across the church near the altar. “Oh, hey it’s okay,” he said.
“Stay away,” I said. “And I’m not a boy.”
“Okay, sorry, sorry I startled you. I won’t come any closer,” said the priest. He was young, still in his twenties. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He smiled a little. “Leave it to them to give the new guy the overnight shift.”
“Is that a thing?”
“We’re one of the only churches in the city open all night,” he said. “Someone has to be here.”
“Oh.”
“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “I’m-I’m, well, we’re really not supposed to have people sleeping here. Father Fletcher wouldn’t like it.”
“I can leave,” I said, reaching for my bag, already preparing to enter the cold again. “I’m sorry, I’m—”
“No, no, you can stay. It’s just… okay, see the pews back there? You can sleep there if you want. It’s out of the way and then you won’t get caught.”
I eyed him warily. “What’s in it for you though?”
He looked confused. “No, it’s a church. That’s what we’re here for. Look, I won’t bother you. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.”
I picked up my stuff and moved to the quieter, more out of the way row of pews. I didn’t trust him—I didn’t trust anyone at that point. I watched as he sat in the pew on the other side of the church and cracked open a book, the turning of his pages echoing in the large cathedral.
I was awake all night, too afraid to sleep in this strange place, too afraid of this young priest who I didn’t know. Around six, when he started preparing for an early morning mass, I gathered my things and slipped out the door, resolving to find a library to hide out and sleep in for the day.
However, by the end of that Sunday, as the sky darkened and public places began to close, I found myself on the steps of St. Giles Parish again. Once again, I slipped on in and lay down on one of the pews in the back. And I did it again the next night, as well.
When I returned on the fourth night, there was a folded grey blanket sitting on one of the pews, with a gym bag next to it. I approached it cautiously and unzipped it slowly. Inside, there were a pair of sneakers, as well as a worn winter jacket. And tucked into one of the sneakers, there was cash. A hundred dollars. More than I had ever seen in my life.
I heard shuffling on the other side of the church and whipped around to see the young priest stepping out onto the alter.
“Uh…” I said. “I think someone left these here. There’s money, even.”
“Those are actually a donation. Do you know anyone who could use them?”
I looked back at the blanket and the bag. “Well… maybe.”
“Take it then,” he said. “I was just going to eat my dinner. You hungry?”
“No,” I lied. “I’m good.”
Still, as he went to go eat, I tugged the blanket over me and slept for the first night in a long time.
—————————————————————————–
I spent my first month in New York City sleeping at that church, and it took two weeks before I even had my first real conversation with the young priest, whose name I learned was Father Jake.
“I don’t want to pry,” he asked one night. “But where are your parents? Is anyone worried about you?”
I shook my head.
Father Jake walked over slowly, like someone might approach a skittish animal, and sat in the pew across the aisle from mine. “Well, I’m Father Jake,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay? How did you end up out here?”
Once again, I didn’t answer.
“I’ve been here for six months,” he said. “I wasn’t supposed to get orders this good, but I lucked out. Right place at the right time. I grew up in the neighborhood.”
“I just moved here,” I whispered.
“From where?”
“Boston.”
“I love Boston!” said Father Jake. “Have you even been to the science museum?”
“No.” I don’t know why it was this moment I chose to trust him, but I’m glad I did. “Back before this, they called me October.”
“Is that what you want to be called?”
“No.” What do I want to be called? I’m not October anymore, or Heckergal like my siblings at the Academy called me. I’m neither of those. A memory bubbled up, one from long, long ago. “My dads used to call me Willow,” I said. “That was my real name.”
“Willow?”
I shut my eyes and thought hard. “Wren,” I said, finally. “My name is Willow Wren.”
“Well, Willow,” said Father Jake. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
—————————————————————————–
I spent evenings and early mornings roaming the walls of the cathedral, staring up at the stained glass windows and the statues of a woman holding a tiny baby. It was such a fancy place that I felt that I didn’t belong there. I studied the etchings on the walls and the paintings on the ceilings. Father Jake told me I could talk to God whenever I wanted, but I knew I wasn’t important enough.
But still, I cried sometimes when I thought about the choir’s hymns or when they talked about belonging at service. I didn’t fit in. I didn’t belong here. I looked around at the families and elderly couples and the many others that packed in for services and knew I’d never be as good, or wanted, or deserving as they all were.
So I wandered and wandered, searching for answers, trying to see myself in the little baby born on a cold night to an unwed mother. One with powers yet to be understood. I tried to see myself in that little baby, but try as I might, I couldn’t believe.
—————————————————————————–
Exactly one month after I arrived at St. Giles, I ran into Father Jake at the library early one morning.
“Hey, kid, we need to talk. Someone came looking for you at the parish after you left this morning.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, this man—he had a video of you from the internet. I recognized your coat.”
Shivers ran down to the base of my spine. “A video of what?”
“You. Flexing your… powers. At a grocery store outside of Boston.”
“I need to go,” I said. “Now. I’m sorry—I told you, I’m no good, I’m—”
“No, wait,” said Father Jake. “Look, I want to help you okay? But we need to get you out of the church. I have a family friend, all right? She’s a lawyer, and she’s helped out mutants before. C’mon, she’s expecting us.”
“Why are you still helping me?” I ask, trying not to cry. “Look at the video. I hurt people. Look, they—”
“I want to believe there is still some good in you.”
Characters: Willow Wren, Marty Fields, Ned Leeds, Kate Gray, Kilgrave
Prompt/Tag: “I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly.” x / @anti-solidcoffee
Summary: Willow goes out for the night and encounters a sinister figure
Song: Hot in the City – Billy Idol
—————————————————————————–
It was a chaotic Saturday night at Kate’s apartment as we lounged around her bedroom, tossing pretzel sticks at each other and passing around the bag of wine that Kate had stolen from her older brother. I sat crossed legged on the floor, scrolling through my phone and trying to find a game for us to play while squishing a ball of putty that I found on Kate’s desk.
“Kings,” I ask. “Anyone want to play that?”
“We don’t have any beer cans,” said Kate. “What’s the point? Unless you want to use Sprite.”
“You guys want to watch a movie or something?” Ned suggested. “Oo—like maybe a really bad one.”
“I could do that,” I said. “When’s Peter supposed to get here?”
Ned shrugged and checked his phone. “I don’t know. He told me he got tied up with something.”
“Should we wait?” Marty asked, with his usual zero-tolerance for tardiness. “I mean, I don’t want to wait all night for him to show up and have him bail on us again.”
“I’m cool starting now,” said Kate. “I don’t want to wait either.”
“What’s taking him so long?” I asked Ned. “Dude’s literally always late.”
“Probably the subway,” said Ned. “It’s been a nightmare this week.”
While Kate opened up her laptop and pulled up Netflix, I shut my eyes and listened to the city beyond her apartment, blocks away, trying to identify every voice that I’m suddenly zero’ed in on and every beep, hum, and crash. It was like a finger on the pulse of the pavement, a background static that I could tune into when ready.
I was almost ready to snap back into reality when I heard a cry, and it cut through the rest of the fuzzy wall of sound. Close. Could have been a few blocks away at most. You don’t have to do anything. You have no obligation to move off this floor. But didn’t I?
“I gotta grab some air,” I said quickly, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”
“What?” said Ned. “We’re about to start the movie.”
“Start without me,” I said. “I want to buy us snacks.”
I rushed out the apartment door, clattered down the steep staircase to the street, and found myself standing on a crowded sidewalk, as New Yorkers flowed like a river around me, many of them in line for the club next door. Focus. Where did that sound come from?
I took a few steps in one direction and then I heard the cry again. It was more defined now. Close. Close. I started running, pushing past other pedestrians, the crowd thinning out, and before I knew it, I was alone. Raised voices echoed off the buildings, and I followed them to an alley, where a haggard-looking woman was pushing back against a man making a grab for her backpack. Next to the woman sat a cardboard mat and several plastic milk crates. Everything of value she had was in that backpack.
“Hey,” I called down into the alley. “What’s going on?”
The man made a final pull for the backpack and stumbled back with it when I spoke.
“He trying to take my stuff!” said the woman, gesturing wildly. “I told him I didn’t have anything.”
“Dude,” I said. “Give her the backpack back.”
In a split-second decision, the man slung the bag over his shoulder and started running down the alley towards me in an attempt to flee.
The adrenaline hit like a wall when I realized how much bigger this guy was than me, but he was gaining on me and left me with few choices. My coat fell to the ground. The wings came out, and their shadow engulphed the dark alley.
“I said, give her the backpack back.”
Now the man cried out and fell back. “Fuck, who the fuck are you? Jesus, God fuck—”
“Easy nelly,” I said.
He fumbled for something in his coat, and as I moved to grab the backpack, out came the gun.
Aw fuck. Nice one, Willow. Really nice.
I lunged for the gun, just as he raised it. Shot fired. Miss. I clawed at his face and kicked upward, as hard as I could. I was so focused on that though, I missed the punch coming for my face and it hit my mouth straight on, splitting my lip wide open.
I may have enhanced skills, but I don’t have any enhanced resistance to pain.
“Fuck,” I yelled, and then screamed a war cry. Motherfucker was going down now.
I spun and the wings clapped him, hard, throwing him against the wall, the gun and the bag falling free. “You freak,” he said. “I’m calling the… police!” The woman scrambled to pick the bag up and I kicked the gun away.
“Get out of here,” I said to him. “And stop harassing homeless people you hoggish asshole.”
He got up and ran. I turned towards the woman, and she still had a look of horror on her face. The wings. I folded them back a little, but it was too late, it was too weird for her. Backpack fastened around her torso, she mumbled something and also took off running.
Whatever, I thought. You’re welcome. I retracted the wings and sighed, popping my headphones in for my walk back to Kate’s.
I shouldn’t have even left. It was stupid. Stupid. I’m not cut out for this stuff. I just get hurt and it sucks.
My phone buzzed and I stopped to open the text.
>Ned: Where did you go lol we’re still waiting
As I texted Ned back, I suddenly became aware of a figure stopped in front of me, from behind me on the sidewalk. I looked up from my phone and a man was standing there. He motioned for me to take off my headphones. Oh great. Please don’t be a missionary.
I graciously pulled out a single earbud. “What?”
“You should turn down that music. It’s bad for your ears.”
“Okay,” I said, and turned down the volume on Billy Idol.
“I was calling after you,” he said. “I saw what you did back there. It was tremendous. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
He was charismatic, over-the-top, and his voice gave me a prickly feeling on the back of my neck. But I stayed. Right there on the sidewalk. Listening. Get out of here, Willow. Get out, get out, get out.
“What’s your name?”
“Willow. Wren.”
Jesus, Willow, move now! Go, run!
“I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly,” he said, grinning. “I saw the wings, what else do you do?”
“I’m a fast healer,” I answered. “I can fight. I can hear really well.”
“Superhearing,” he mused, drawing it out like it was a song. “I bet that comes in handy.”
“Yeah.” Willow, you don’t EVEN tell someone about your powers! What are you doing?
“Give me your phone number.”
I gave it to him.
“When I call you, you’ll pick up, right?”
“Right. Yeah.”
“With wings like that, you must be a flier.”
“I am.”
“Good,” he handed me an envelope. “Deliver this for me. Address is here. She’s a bit difficult to get to. Shouldn’t be hard for you though.”
I think I did it, but I’m not sure. I couldn’t remember the rest of that night.
