james rogers is finally an agent of shield (blindloyalty) wrote in superbabies, @ 2013-08-24 17:30:00 |
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It was all too much. James usually handled combat stress better than this. Sure, the PTSD got to him at times but he was pretty damned good at compartmentalizing during crisis. He had been on edge, growing more and more paranoid after every attack. When Terrence had been murdered (he wasn’t using the term assassinated. It was murder), James had gone into shut-down mode. Professionally, of course. He was a soldier, through and through, and no one but a very (very) select few would have even recognized it for what it was. Let the SHIELD agents have their witch hunt. While they were all sitting around with their thumbs up their collective asses, people were in danger. It was easily noticed that the targets were SHIELD agents. The school’d had an abundance of them. Some had scattered when the attacks began happening. But Steven was the last straw. James burst into Annie’s apartment without even knocking. There was the flash of a gun in a shoulder holster, just beneath his jacket--it was hardly the only weapon he wore. “Annie?” he called out even as he shut the door behind him. A pack was in his hand and he was scanning, always surveying, his surroundings. Annie was always well-informed. The knowledge was due something of a nepotistic degree of clearance, yes, but she wasn't the sort to abuse the privilege. So she kept her mouth shut for the most part - outside of quiet, murmured late-night calls to her mother, soft and urgent and concerned - spine straighter and sleep less than sound, Harrison regularly out of his own bed and into hers. The sense of reassuring safety that had settled in upon returning to Xavier's had wavered. Terrence was dead. There were no words Daisy could whisper over encrypted connections to fix that. There was nothing she could reply that could erase the exhaustion that had crept into her mother's voice. Her head snapped up at the slam of the apartment door, breath huffing out in a crooked (relieved) gasp of a laugh at the sound of James’ voice, tugging on one of Harrison’s curls to summon his attention before nodding toward the entrance, sketching out a quick company with her fingers before replying, voice raised: “In the kitchen.” James wasted no time. He could apologize later. He had hit his threshold on what he could and couldn't handle... what he was willing to risk and what he wasn't. "We're leaving. Pack only what you need. We'll get the rest some other time," he said as he came into view. A hand threaded into Harrison's hair as he looked at Annie. He looked completely calm, though his words weren't. His tone was even. Military. His posture was perfect without even a hint of his stress. It was his eyes that gave it all away to someone like Annie. He was worried. No, he was afraid. "We're leaving now." The hand left Harrison's hair and he decided to keep an eye on the windows, preferring that he be the target instead of mother or child. Leaving? Well. Yes they were, weren't they? There really wasn't anything else for it at this point, was there? The tension in her shoulders eased with acceptance, a barely-there smile quirking the very edges of her lips upward. "It seems we have to pack," Annie echoed, hands moving in tandem with the words before she scooped Harrison up easily and efficiently, holding out the empty one toward James in offering. "Come help me? I've got the rest. I promise." When he moved (if he moved) the fire sprang up to replace him - a precise sheet of it, and while the heat politely avoided his skin, it wouldn't be so kind to others should the need arise. The fire didn't bother him. All things considered, he trusted Annie completely and without question. James took the offered hand as he shouldered his pack, giving her his weaker side to keep his stronger, dominant hand available. Just in case. James wouldn't apologize. Not for the way he'd come in, not the way he was bundling them up, and not the way he was going to get them somewhere safe. He would never apologize for making sure they were safe. James couldn't muster up the ability to smile, not even for Harrison's sake. But the instant Annie put the boy down to start packing, James crouched and brought the pack down and into view. If the toddler caught sight of the gun and/or thought anything of it, so be it. "We're going on a mission," he said, knowing just enough signs to use in tandem with his words. "I got you some new gear." Like a small, bulletproof vest that was still too big for him but they'd make it work. Annie wasn't waiting for an apology, tugging him along by linked fingers to Harrison's room with a tilt to her chin and a far-off edge to her gaze that spoke of mental categorizing. Prioritizing. Harrison, on the other hand, clambered off of the bed the moment that he hit it, crowding into James’ space like something seeking heat during the winter. His eyes were dark and wide, mouth pulled into a solemn little frown that made Annie uncertain whether to smile at the imitation or rub at the mild ache in her chest at the ease at which he fell into the correct conduct. His fingers voluntarily caught at his hearing aid, thumbing it on without the usual whine, and Annie did smile, the selection of things being tossed into her bag (stored on the side of his closet, fire-proof and precautionary) quick and efficient. "Is to be safe," he nodded - and while the sounds dragged on a bit too long, the words were decipherable. "Exactly, partner," James said. He was able to finally offer a smile and set about getting Harrison ready. The clothes on their back were going to be just as important. Wearable over a few days, nothing that would visibly stain and make them look grubby, anything that wouldn't call attention to themselves. Comfortable shoes were important, too. Not that he planned on them hiking anywhere but one pair of shoes were better than taking up precious space in a bag. James wound up seated on the floor with Harrison between his legs while the soldier secured the vest as well as he could. It was probably overkill but he wasn't taking any chances. Not with this kid. James flashed a grin and sunk a battered baseball cap over the mess of curls. The hat was a hair too big. "The Mets are my favorite team. I don't care what anyone says." Blue eyes came up to find Annie. She was efficient, he'd give her that. He easily fished out her own vest and tossed it at her. "It's a mission. We have to match," he said. James tucked Harrison into a heavier jacket than should have been necessary on a summer night but a lighter jacket would have taken up less room. James didn't have to say a word about how a sniper would likely go for a headshot but it was something at least. "How much time do you need?" "You know I don't need that," Annie replied, shrugging on the vest onto one shoulder all the same, rolling her eyes in more bemused protest than her three-year-old (currently reaching up to run fingers over the worn letters stitched onto the over-large cap with a wide grin) had given. A token protest, really. She didn't necessarily need it - but she'd wear it contentedly, either way. "But, I suppose, for the sake of the mission." She tipped her head consideringly, walking toward them and gripping the handles of the bag loosely. "For my things? A minute or two. He's the one with the things," she teased, leaning down to flick a finger against the orange brim and shooting James a crooked smile. "Though I might need a moment to mourn my new furniture." "They aren't gone, Annie. We just can't take them with us right now," he murmured. James got to his feet and brought her in, hands cupping her face like she were a precious thing, and kissed her. "Go pack. All of this is just stuff. But we'll get it back. Or come back when it feels safe to." In his heart of hearts, James knew it wouldn't ever feel safe again. Not when there were people to worry about like this. Owen and Maggie would be safe. Natalie would do what Natalie wanted to do--as always. Pella could take care of herself--as having already been proven. It was James' turn to protect. And that meant getting the Hell out of Dodge without any concrete plan in place so there was zero chance of being tracked. He gave another kiss before dropping down to Harrison's level again. "Let's go get your toothbrush and stuff, okay?" Because James could be just as efficient. They weren't coming back and they both knew it. They'd pick things up, they'd visit - but they wouldn't come back. They wouldn't stay. "I know," she murmured, fingers smoothing out the lines of his clothing with an absent sort of care. "There's nothing here I need that you aren't already holding onto." There were a few things that she'd like: her wallet, the singular unsinged photo on her nightstand, Harrison's mini iPad, Goldfish crackers (There wasn't an end to how important Goldfish crackers and Angry Birds became when traveling anywhere with a toddler.) but there wasn't anything else that she needed except the two people standing in front of her. She pressed her hand lightly over his chest, the beating beneath the layers lost to kevlar and cotton, but the gesture unmistakable. "Toothpaste too. Or else he'll be complaining because he doesn't like the mint kind. I'll meet you in the living room in five." James only nodded, the words I love you being unspoken but there all the same. He was walking out that door without a single possession that weren't the clothes on his back, the boots on his feet, or the various weapons hidden on him. He had a wad of cash, enough painkillers to last him while he weaned himself off of them (painfully, but necessary), and his dog tags. He navigated the essentials with the ease of a parent, though he had no practice in that particular set of combat-like strategies, and made sure to check in with Harrison that he'd gotten it all correct. In under five minutes, the pair were standing in the living room and James' own pack was stuffed with other things he'd found that Annie might have later wanted. Things that he'd seen before, when he'd been able to peruse the apartment at his leisure. Annie would always put Harrison first. James could pick up that slack. "Ready?" he asked. "One more thing," Annie smiled and folded herself to the floor, cross-legged and just scant inches below Harrison's eye level. "When we leave someplace that was important to us, what do we say?" They had moved before. Had left old places for new places - and Harrison fell easily into the routine of the question, something grounding and familiar, with a bright grin of recognition. Fingers fanning into a wave before the tips of them pressed briefly to his chin and dropped downward, palm facing up. Goodbye and thank you. Simple signs, but a good sentiment. She pushed up and onto her knees, pressing a kiss to her son's forehead before rising the rest of the way, bag on her shoulder and his tiny fingers tangled neatly into hers. She nodded her head then - once, decisive - hair in her eyes and gaze warm when it met James'. "Yeah. We're ready." [ ooc: James will have set up deliveries of letters to each of the Rogers/Danvers clan to tell them that he was going off-grid for awhile. Those can start arriving. The only one he will have spoken with is his father, just assuring him that they're all right and all that. Bye, James and Annie and Harrison! Sorry for the late posting. Jackie and I have had too much shit going on. ] |