Baba Yaga (allsystemsgo) wrote in superbabies, @ 2013-08-29 00:01:00 |
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It wasn’t a crossroads. It wasn’t a fork in the road. Or a Bridge Out Of Order sign. It wasn’t something she could mark in footsteps or miles, breaths or heartbeats. She just knew times had changed. She had changed. And this was less a distance traveled than a life reimagined. Yoko was tired. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, she figured, as she packed away the last of her things. Few things. Personal items were a rare keep for her, but she packed them instead of her weapons, instead of her suit. It hung lifelessly in her closet next to her spangly burlesque dress and other assorted clothing: torn in the arm, holes in the chest, dirty and cracked. Like a snake, she’d finally peeled this skin off of her, looked at it for what it was, what it represented, and closed the closet door. There was no way to describe what this time had been. An awakening? Maybe this journey of self-discovery was supposed to be muddled with paradoxes and blurred lines. She couldn’t remember feeling as depleted and fragile and scarred as she had been when Yuriko had died, when she’d betrayed her and was left for dead on Xavier’s doorsteps, when Ian had come back to life as something other than himself. So many others had dismissed her or called her a bitch, sometimes a whore. Some would always judge against her, despite the times she’d really begun trying to prove her worth as a human being. There would always be wounds, and they were especially deep when she’d only recently allowed herself the chance to be vulnerable. Her heart was trained to carry them all. But her heart had experienced joy in the form of Henry, contentment in the form of Miu, and love in the form of Ian. She’d learned to cherish, learned to trust, learned to fight for someone other than herself. Though SHIELD had been a swift and poisonous devastation, it had been her choice: the first in so many years, after so much time being told what to do and who to be. Terrence had been a good man - the best. His words echoed in her mind, often floating to the surface, playing again and again. The hand that had been bent in tens of different directions balled up. The pain would always be there. The loss of Rhodes would be a paired sensation. SHIELD had not deserved him but she would always endeavor to make him proud. With what had happened with Nate Logan - the thought still unsettled her in ways she thought she’d have been used to - and with the fallout with his brother and the other agents, she knew this couldn’t be the rest of her life. Knew that what had been done to Zan Logan was a terrible tragedy, one that she felt guilt for even if she hadn’t been behind the plot. She zipped her luggage. All of her personal belongings fit into a single suitcase. It wasn’t like before, when she hoisted around her mini arsenal, all of her belongings made of metal, meant to kill. This time it was a collection of herself and all the things she’d become in her time here: dresses and assorted outfits loaned by Olympia (who adamantly refused to let Yoko return them), a picture Harrison had drawn of him and her being spies, a binder stuffed with recipes that Annie had helped her collect, and the zoo ticket from when she and Henry had their first day trip. Memories. Time was measured in memories. It was strange to think this room had become a home for a brief period of time. There was something bittersweet about saying goodbye to it. The bed was unmade, the imprint of Ian’s head on his pillow still barely traceable as she never slept on that side. It had been a sentimental inaction. This room had seen so much. Her arrival had her coating the corner in blood and tears, hysterical and broken, as she’d tried to make sense of the horrific act she’d committed, willing to surrender her life to the great and terrible unknown. It had seen her go through various, unsuccessful stages of decoration, all of them wrong because they evoked a sense of permanence. It had seen her babysit Harrison, watched her build him spygear. It had seen her sleeping beside Ian, refusing to touch him or look at him as his heart kept perfect tempo, wishing she had the strength to reach out if only for a moment, knowing he couldn't understand or share this pain. And then it had seen many nights, and some days, of writhing bodies and tangled limbs, so many instances of “territory marking” (though marks never lasted on her, they certainly did on him), had heard her cry out his name so many times she was sure it had imprinted in the paint. And their final encounter here after his diamond had shattered, so many “I love you”s and “I missed you”s that she’d lost count, littered with giggles and sighs. He had been her rock, her gateway to a better world. Maybe it was fool’s play to put her entire heart in his hands so quickly, and some days she panicked for it, but she would never take it back. There were no regrets in her love for him and if time pulled them apart or life cut them short, he would never be without it. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Yoko trusted him with everything she was. Fear could be conquered, doubt could be assuaged, because she knew he was everything right in this world and everything she strived to deserve. He’d held her hand as she’d awoken in the infirmary and had been there again when the diamond gave him no reason to. He had been the one to carry and cradle her. He’d had faith in her. Ian sometimes meekly stated he wasn’t brave, but she’d been her own soldier for so long that a knight in shining armor seemed redundant. In his own way, he was brave. In his heart, in his soul, in the way he’d conquered her own. She would not have fallen for a man who was anything but. Yoko acknowledged she was far from complete. She had him and her friends, but she had more memories to make. More Self to discover. Having never put much thought into the future, she still hesitated to imagine what lay in store for her. There was the fear of jinxing it. Hoping to be with Ian, only to lose his love. Hoping to live a long life, only to die in an unpredictable, unfair way. Hoping to be happy, only to never be able to shake the demons of her past. It was a cynical, fearful way of approaching the world. But she pressed on. Because she couldn’t grow as a person and stand still at the same time. Notes were left in the rooms of Olympia, Henry, Sherwood, and surprisingly, Kinah and Pella. To Sherwood, nothing more complex than a thank you and a goodbye. It was all too complicated to think back on what had unfolded these past two months, but she respected him. To Kinah and Pella she simply wished them good, long lives, that they and their loved ones be blessed by their Allah. To further prove her respect for their culture and religion, she wrote their letters in Arabic, one of the many languages she was fluid in but never spoke. Her thoughts on Pella’s behavior these past two months never made it to the page. This was not how she wanted to leave things. This was not who she wanted to be. To Olympia, she left a letter of deep gratitude, a more personal account of how she’d become such key figures in her life and how this was not a goodbye. She left the number of her phone so that Olympia could stay in touch, ending that she expressed faith in her relationship with the man she loved, wishing her the best. A phone call through a private line reached Annie. Yoko told her where she was, where she was going, and they spoke briefly, catching up on recent events, on how Harrison and James were doing, and what the future held. There were promises that one day they’d meet up. She knew it would happen. And then there was Henry. Yoko had spent time with him before she packed, knowing she’d miss her Chance far more than she would have ever known possible but six months earlier. This letter was the longest, the most unusually heartfelt. With it was her phone number, a reminder that if he needed her, she would always be there, and it wouldn’t be long before she saw him again. She told him she had faith in him and believed he could accomplish anything and that she knew he’d outshine all of them. A short and gentle reminder to be good to the jet she’d gifted him. Her last act of confidence in him: her most precious possession a gift to the young man, and the name of the jet - a secret previously only known by Ian - so that he knew her, so that they bonded. As she wheeled her suitcase to the taxi on the driveway, Yoko didn’t measure her movements in footsteps. This was another memory; a door closing. She had been broken and remade so many times here, had saved lives and ended them for the sake of who lived behind these walls. She wasn’t strong, but she was stronger. And for all it was worth, she wouldn’t miss this place. It hadn’t been home. Home was waiting for her in Europe. But she looked back over her shoulder, smiled, and nodded a silent farewell. Yoko didn’t go to Europe immediately. She went to Canada, rented a car, and drove to the spot where she’d buried her mother. There weren’t tears and there wasn’t grief, but the young woman talked. She told her mother of all she’d become despite Yuriko’s best efforts to hold her back. That one day, if given the chance, she could break this cycle. While it would take time to believe that someone with her sins could be worthy of parenthood, her time with Miu and Harrison had taught her that her heart was fuller, more patient, infinitely more accepting than she’d ever known. Maybe she had her father to thank for that. She would never know. And maybe she'd never be a mother. That was fine; it wasn't what mattered. She was a better person now than she’d ever been before and that had been her making. That was what she took away from this. Next Yoko visited Osaka, traveling to the orphanage where she had been raised. She bought the orphanage and proceeded to put money into improving it, both with staff and with utilities and comforts. These girls would be happy. These children deserved it. The paperwork went into her suitcase next to Henry’s ticket. It had been exactly thirty days since Arianna had joined Emmett and Ian. Yoko had been told that they had indeed taken to their vacation like brothers, barely keeping a smile off her face as she pictured them bickering and teasing each other outside of famous landmarks. Arianna said they missed her and it conjured a different kind of smile: wistful, yearning. She’d kept tabs on wherever they went, and when she found herself standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, it was almost like the movies she’d watched. Picture perfect, unusually clear and vivid. There were fewer lines under her eyes and her breaths were lighter. Dressed in a low-cut blouse and jeans, hair loose, she looked every bit the American traveler, hands on her hips and, for a moment, forgetful of the world. Not a single removable weapon was on her person. There was no one to report to. For the first time she truly understood what it meant to be free. They’d planned to meet there, but even if they hadn’t he suspected he’d have been led to that same spot by the way she felt. Twelve million emotions in the city of light, and he was sure he could have picked her out from the lot without any warning to her presence. He came up beside her, looking up at the tower as if he hadn’t noticed the woman standing there, though he was sure she’d heard him, had felt him almost as much as he felt her. He cocked his head, pursed his lips. “You know. I always thought it’d be... taller.” Yoko bit down a smile, her eyes on the architectural marvel before them. Her fingers moved to graze against his gently but she did not link hands. Hearing his voice, everything came together, and she couldn't help but notice how much happier he sounded. "Disappointing when it was the world's tallest manmade structure for over forty years." She shrugged, turning her head to him like she'd just realized he was there. "But you've come all this way, you might as well go up. I read you can see almost all of Paris from up there." “Yeah, I’ve heard that, too...” Ian said, wrinkling his nose a bit and shaking his head, thoroughly unimpressed, before he finally looked at her, and smiled in spite of himself. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve already got the perfect view of the only thing in Paris worth seeing...” Yoko couldn’t fight the laugh and the flush that followed his equally smooth and cheesy line, nudging him in the shoulder, the touch lasting a touch longer than probably necessary. Her finger curled into the fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you suave. I hope you haven’t been practicing on all the lovely Parisian women while I was away. I might not have my guns anymore, but I’m still very scary when I’m jealous.” Ian smiled, and stepped a bit closer, his hands falling to Yoko’s hips. “I didn’t even realize there were other women here,” he said softly. “I’ve been waiting for one to arrive...” “She was a little late getting here. Wanted me to pass along she’s very sorry for making you wait.” Her hands slid up to wrap around his neck. For a moment, she was in total awe of him. He’d always been very handsome, no one could deny that, but she fell in love all over again at the sight of him, from the light in his eyes to the strong touch of his hands on her hips. The next words came out soft with emotion: “I missed you.” “I missed you, too,” he whispered, closing his eyes and holding her close. “I love you.” “I love you.” She echoed, warm and fuzzy and content, her cheek on his shoulder, feeling everything slide into place and the last of the weight drifting off. She felt young, youthful. Yoko soaked in the moment for an unknown amount of time before she lifted her chin onto his shoulder, smiling cheerfully at him. “Come on, expert traveler. Take me somewhere interesting, like Versailles or you room. But only if you aren’t sharing that room with your brother.” He laughed at her order, nodded. It was good to see her smile, good to know she was happy, that all the months of up and down might, finally, be behind them. “I think I can manage that.” He said with a smirk and another nod, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “And I don’t really see any reason not to do both. Though I think I know which we should see first...” He smiled down at her as he kissed her, with all the love and longing he’d felt in every moment they’d spent apart. And, for a change, everything was well and truly right. |