skye barton can put an arrow through your knee (bowandarrows) wrote in superbabies, @ 2013-05-29 18:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | sherwood barton, skye barton |
Log: Foxtrot & Skylark
Who: Sherwood Barton & Skye Barton
When: May 29th; late afternoon/evening
Where: School grounds
What: Skye's Big Brother comes home and surprise! he's injured AND he's got some shitty news. She's got a big mouth, he's got a guilt thing going, and Summer is off somewhere playing with rainbows.
By the time the SHIELD-provided car dropped him off in front of the school, Sherwood had sent eight texts to his sister telling her to meet him. Or, more accurately, two to meet him, two to fuck off he didn’t need her help with his bag, one to say no, wait, yes he needed help fuck, and three more telling her she better not keep him waiting. It was bad enough he couldn’t drive the car himself. The fact that he needed his kid sister to carry his bags was enough humiliation that the thought of standing outside the mansion waiting. He was pleasantly surprised to find she hadn’t let him down. “Sashenka,” he said flatly as he stepped out of the car -- pointedly glaring at the driver when he tried to help him. “Good to see you can follow basic instructions. Where’s Summer?” He’d been told about that one, about the complications, the embarrassment of her new mental state. How the mighty had fallen. It made him feel sick. “Is someone watching her?” His eyes narrowed. Of course she’d let Summer wander. She probably thought Summer was still Summer. “Whatever. It’s...” he sighed, forced an appropriate smile for this kind of sibling reunion. “It’s good to see you.” "Forest," she replied tersely and waited for the usual bullshit to exit his mouth before allowing herself to react. Blue eyes rolled skyward. "She doesn't need a babysitter. It's not good to see me, what the fuck happened?" Skye asked, moving to grab the bags that were left on the drive to be brought in. She grunted. "Jesus, did you have to pack your practice wall?" Skye muttered but the scowl she tossed at her brother turned more worried than flat out bitchy. "How long you gonna be out for?" “It isn’t that heavy,” Sherwood countered with a slight sneer. “And just because you don’t think she needs a babysitter doesn’t mean it’s true. What do the doctors say?” Another pause, another frown. “She is seeing them, isn’t she?” She had better be. If he was supposed to meet with some quack named Cuckoo, the legitimate loon in the family sure as Hell better have a timeslot. “Mission went South,” he answered, short and clipped. “I was injured, as you can see...” a nod to the sling. “So they sent me to the mutant retirement resort to recover.” He left out the fact that he’d fought tooth and nail to stay active -- a fight he’d lost, else he wouldn’t have been dropped at Xavier’s door like an unwanted orphan in a basket. He also left out the fact that he might just be a step closer to orphan, now. “I can take one of the bags. I just needed you to grab the other one.” "Nuh uh," Skye said, shifting out of reach. She ignored the comments about Summer. As far as their sisters were concerned, he had no room to complain about Skye's treatment of either of them. "Neither of us want you here any longer than you need to be. The sooner you're out of my hair, the happier you'll be. Can you even--" she asked and had to pause. She stopped and cocked her head upward at him. "How bad?" she asked and nodded her head at his shoulder. "And how badly did it go South?" Because she could be just as much a soldier--he was just better at it. Sherwood took a deep breath to keep from losing his temper. She had that way of getting under his skin -- always had -- but now wasn’t the time. And, really, getting mad at her for carrying his bag seemed counterproductive... “At least we can agree on one thing,” he grumbled. He supposed he’d need to check with the doctors himself on Summer -- and see if anyone had any word from Sam. Not that he expected many people around the school to care about her. Certainly not her fucking husband. He took another deep breath. Temper. “Bad,” he said flatly, looking at the wall behind her, instead of meeting her eye. “Nearly lost my arm. The muscles are still a mess, and my rotator cup was shredded. It’s going to take time. Physical therapy.” Actual therapy. “We didn’t get out clear, but we accomplished the goal. That’s the important part.” "Who's we?" she asked, brow furrowing even as she resumed her stride again. "And I'm in the faculty residential area. You'll--well I assume you've gotten it all straightened out with the headmistress. You get assigned an apartment yet or are you camping on my couch?" Skye kept talking while she led the way. "We've got a physical therapist, which I'm sure you're aware of. A couple people here see her. Three doctors on staff at present, a nurse or two without counting myself, and I've got some patients here so don't be an asshole, got it?" The blonde raised a brow at him as she looked over her shoulder at her brother. "Because I can guarantee we've got some people here you wouldn't want to go toe to toe with. Hell, I don't even want to. Keep your head down. Do your time and you'll be back to being Dad's Heir Apparent in no time." “We is something you get to know with Level Seven SHIELD Security Clearance,” he mumbled, dodging. “And I’m on your couch for tonight. I’ve got a meeting with Summers in the morning. And of course I know about the physical therapist.” He sneered. “And I know about most of the people here. I even know about Apex in the basement.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a fucking circus, not a school...” "It's so nice when we agree on something. One of your coworkers had to get in my way when I met Apex in the fucking hallway. We've got more SHIELD agents on grounds than I can count on one hand," Skye said, tone unhappy. They continued on, Skye leading the way. "By the way? Call me Sashenka in public again and I swear I will punch you in that shoulder," she informed him, smiling sweetly. Skye wouldn't actually do so. Probably. Maybe. "Just remember whose charity truck you're riding on tonight, Sherlock." “It’s your name” he shot back, knowing fully well that it was just a bluff. Most likely. “Trust me, I plan to jump off that truck as soon as I can.” Knowing he wasn’t the only agent in residence helped, in its own way. Even if he was still surrounded by retired Avengers and a bunch of spoiled superbrats, it was nice to think there were some people who knew the business. Skye had to fight to keep from giving him the finger. "Even Dad doesn't call me that," she snapped. "You do it just to be an ass." She let out a breath in a puff of air and managed to get her door open. It wasn't like anyone was ballsy enough to break in and steal anything. "Home, sweet, home," Skye said and tossed a bag in before gesturing at Sherwood to follow. The annoying kid sister in her hoped he would trip over the bag on his way in. Once they were both inside and the door was closed behind them, she emptied her hands and folded her arms. "Okay. Spill." Most SHIELD agents had training in espionage, in the subtle arts of hiding reactions and telling lies. Sherwood skipped those classes to shoot things. Thus, the mention of their father made him flinch, his brow furrowing for a half a second before he forced his expression back to neutral. “I thought I made it clear I wasn’t going to spill anything,” he replied as he sidestepped the bag and crossed over to the couch. “What I do at my job isn’t as public as your stint on the showoff squad.” "I'm not as public as you like to think, Sherwood," she replied, rolling her eyes as he moved to the couch. "You're in a sling, which means you got a lot more hurt than you would normally allow. You're putting up with my shit, which means something is bothering you." She looked away, softening and her hands came down to rest with loose, open palms at her sides. "I don't have Level Seven but I've consulted enough to have my own set of contacts. Don't give me the press conference version or I'll just go pester Dad anyway. I can't believe he didn't even warn me about this!" “You will not pester Dad about this,” Sherwood snapped. “God, Sash would it kill you to leave something alone for once?” He sighed and ran his good hand through his hair, trying to calm down. Talking about their father had put him on edge, had reminded him of just how badly he’d fucked up. And if she tried reaching him to ask what was going on... “You should... you should sit down.” He mumbled. “For this.” "I'll stand," Skye said quickly, shoulders tensing as her back straightened. Of all the complaints her brother might have had about her, Skye Barton was not one to shrink away from something or give in to a sudden rise in panic. He rolled his eyes. “You always have to be fucking difficult...” He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, she’d never been the type to follow orders. “The mission,” he said softly. “It was me and Dad. His idea.” He shrugged, picking at the sling’s hem. “On the way out... they surprised us. Took out my arm before I knew what was going on. And they...” He closed his eyes and sighed. “They got Dad. He’s missing. Presumed killed in action.” It felt like the floor had come out from under her. Skye's expression gave nothing away and her stance didn't falter. When one had seen as much battle as she had--as they both had--such things weren't acceptable responses. But what felt like a punch to the gut as the realization settled in set her off balance and Skye was yelling before she knew it. "You were supposed to have his back! You had one job to do, Sherwood! You watch his fucking back, just like he would watch yours. How could they--" By the time her brain caught up with her mouth (and, really, she'd been doing so much better at that filter thing) the damage had been done and she clapped a hand over her mouth. This wasn't his fault. She knew that. It couldn't be his fault. "I'm sorry. That--" Skye said, her words muffled, and she closed her eyes. "That was the wrong response and this isn't your fault. No body, no proof, no death cert." She was speaking without thinking again, hand falling away from her mouth to hug her middle instead. "They have no leads? Does... does Mom know?" Every word out of her mouth made him tense up more, his hands balling into fists so tight he felt his nails digging into his palms. By the time she managed to stop herself, it was already echoing in his head. But then again, hadn’t he said the same things to himself over and over since he’d gotten out of there. “No,” he said softly. “It’s my fault. I should’ve paid attention. They shouldn’t have been able to get the drop on us. There had to be... be something I didn’t see and it...” He bit his lip. She might be able to tell herself that no proof meant hope, but he’d never been nearly as optimistic. “No, she doesn’t,” he said finally. He wasn’t sure when he’d started shaking, but he knew he wanted it to stop, and he shifted on the couch, trying to focus on her questions, instead of the outburst that kept replaying in his head. You were supposed to be watching his back! “She knows he was on a mission. As far as she knows, it’s just a long engagement.” You had one job! “They’re waiting for confirmation before they tell her anything else. They don’t want to give her bad news, if they don’t have to, and they don’t want to give her false hope if it turns out he’s...” Her head shook. "Don't," she said sharply, though it was unclear as to which part she was protesting. Skye pressed her lips together, tightly, trying to remind herself to not bite down because she would probably make herself bleed. "It's not your fault, Sherwood," Skye finally managed. She crossed the room and knelt down in front of where he sat on the couch, resting her chin on his knee. It was much like she would have done as a small child, staring adoringly up at her big brother. Except he was hurt, had been dropped in her lap just as Summer had been, and it was Skye's lot in life to keep it together. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Her eyes, more grey than blue with the change of emotions, dropped to his shoulder. "Don't block me out. They give you intel, you share it. We get you back up and we'll go after him," she murmured, gaze shifting back to his face. "We." Because even with their differences, even with how he thought she should have lived her life, Skye would always have his back. Just as she expected him to have hers. “Can’t get him back if there’s nothing to get,” Sherwood mumbled. The we made sense. It wasn’t anything less than what he should expect. Of course they’d have each other’s backs. Family transcended their squabbling. Even when it was his fault their family was in this mess. “They want me to talk to one of the doctors here,” he said eventually. “One of the shrinks. Cuckoo. I can’t remember which one, I have it written down somewhere...” he sighed, shook his head. “I don’t need some fucking therapist holding my hand and telling me it isn’t my fault. I don’t need you telling me it isn’t my fault. It is. Nothing you or anyone else says changes that. I just... need to fix it and I don’t know how.” "I think you do need it," Skye said and sat up straight once more. "Because Dad would be telling you the same thing if it were him right here instead of me." She sighed, her chest and throat feeling tight but being unable to get the emotional release that she needed. "We start with getting you back to fighting shape. We stay on SHIELD's collective ass for whatever information they can throw at us. Can, not will, Mister Level Whatever security." Skye stood and touched his arm, softly and briefly. "Are you hungry? I can... can make you something," she offered, stumbling verbally as she had to clear her throat. Shit. Summer. This would hit her like a ton of bricks. Glasses-wearing Cuckoo could help her, right? Fuck. Empathic twin. Wasn't there another empath in the school? Skye cleared her throat. "I'll get you some stuff. Make up the couch. It's a pull out but it's actually more comfortable as-is." Sherwood didn’t buy it -- he didn’t think he ever would -- but he nodded, and managed not to pull away from her hand on his arm, in spite of every instinct he had crying for distance. “I’m fine,” he said, once he’d forced himself back under control. “I ate on the way here. I’m just tired. It’s... been a long few days.” Understatement. “And the couch is fine, yeah. Pull-outs are never worth it.” He didn’t like the way she was stumbling over herself to try and wait on him. Didn’t like that she was taking care of him. But he supposed he deserved it. He’d proven he couldn’t take care of himself. "It's--yeah. It's fine," she said, shaking her head because she wasn't sure what she'd been about to say anyway. Skye found a clean set of sheets and a quilt that she usually reserved for winter nights on top of her usual bedding. It would work fine. Pillows were harder so she gave up one of hers, putting it into a clean case. "I'm not babying you. But you said it yourself, it's been a long few days," Skye went on and gestured that he move. She hadn't known anything about just how long those days had been until now. The least she could do was tuck a couple sheets in around the couch cushions once he'd moved his ass off of them. If her hands were shaking, Skye pretended to not notice. “I can do it, Skye,” he said softly, keen eyes picking out the shake in her hands. “Just put it down. I’ll get to it. I don’t need some fancy setup. Hell, a sheet and a soft rock would do, at this point...” That he called her 'Skye' didn't go unnoticed and she only nodded mutely. The woman did as she was told and put the bedding down on the coffee table. "Clean towels are in the linen closet by the bathroom. I need to get Summer taken care of. I'll... be back later. I promise to not try and sneak in if you promise to not shoot me on the way in," she said, fumbling for humor in her tone though her words weren't exactly far from the truth of their upbringing. "I don't bother with cable but there's Netflix and--you know how to work all that shit. Call me if you need me." “Can’t shoot. My arm.” He grunted, but he managed a vague smile at the attempt. “Go take care of her. I’ll want to see her soon enough. See how much the bastard did to her head...” Not that it mattered. She was probably better off, too far gone to realize what was going on. “I’m just going to go to sleep, but thanks.” Skye snorted, rolling her eyes. "Please. The day you can't hit something with your non-dom arm is the day we all hang up our bows." She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. "Be careful with Summer. It's not... in your nature. But he seriously fucked her up and I don't know if she's ever going to be okay. She's still Summer and he's got an arrow with his name on it," Skye said. Anger seemed to steady the youngest Barton. Her mouth twitched though it was more sneer than smirk. "And he seems to think I'm waiting to kill him. He seriously underestimates my aim if he thinks I can't turn him into a drooling mess." But she took a breath and nodded. "Get some rest, Sher. I'm glad you're not missing," Skye added, softly, and headed for the door. “Getting mad at him is letting him win,” Sherwood mumbled, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. Summer was a bridge he’d cross another day. He watched her walk out the door, and sat in silence for a few seconds before finally shifting to lay down on the couch. His last thought before he fell asleep was that she might be glad he wasn’t missing, but they both knew it’d have been better if he had been the one to go. She'd heard his words, before she had closed the door, but had nothing productive to say in reply. Besides, she'd already done enough damage with her words--and in so little time, too. It had to have been a new record. Skye went to find Ian Cuckoo, to warn him and plead for his assistance in shielding Summer. She probably should have gone to find Emmett but Skye was running out of energy to keep functioning. If she didn't let herself react properly, soon, she was going to be a mess. So she left Ian, knowing he would help Summer however he and his twin could (and refusing his attempts to help her), and went to find a quiet spot to have her own little private breakdown. |