Clint Barton (awwbro) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-08-17 13:48:00 |
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She wasn't sure she could trust anyone anymore. Oh her editors kept giving her the look, like she something broken to be pitied. It was driving her nuts, even her new editors were doing it. She used it to her advantage to work from home so she didn't have to deal with them. That unfortunately backfired in that it gave her too much time to think and mope over her scars, both physical and mental. She hated the idea of dwelling on it, so she'd caved and told Clint she was ready to talk. And set up this meeting. Elaine wasn't sure, but it was better than bottling it all up any longer. She came here to start over. Not sulk in a corner and mope for the rest of life. No, she needed to get up, go out, talk to people, talk about it and generally not feel like an idiot for doing it. So she'd dug through the boxes, found clean clothes - nothing fancy, but they were at the very least clean. Her comfiest jeans, an army green - army issued t-shirt, and flip flops. Her Nikon D3x was in her arms as she took a seat in the cafe, outside in the open air, so he could find her easier. She carefully shoo'd away the server saying she was expecting someone first. Clint was running late already, and then he’d had to find somewhere to park. That was always the problem with these little neighborhood businesses: parking. He parked on the street and fed the meter before grabbing Lucky’s harness and walking the few blocks to the shop Elaine had picked. He scanned the outdoor tables and saw a blonde woman in an Army tee cradling an expensive-looking camera, and took a gamble, heading towards her. He was stopped once by a sternfaced server who looked ready to scold him for bringing an animal past the fence, but a quick sign, and forceful glare as he gestured at his ear and Lucky’s Service Dog emblazoned vest and he was allowed past. He stopped beside the woman’s table and signed hello. Elaine had said she knew ASL a little, so it was as good a way as any to find out if he had the right table. Elaine watched with a frown at the waiter and as she was getting up to intervene, he made it past and headed over towards her. She smiled and signed a greeting back, he could tell she was a little rusty at it. “Sorry, I bet parking was a pain” she would say, smiling faintly. She gestured to the chair across from her. “Thank you for coming, I appreciate it.” she’d say carefully, sometimes Elaine spoke too fast for people to hear, so she figured she’d need to check that so he could read her lips. Once she got to her story, she’d probably type it all out, it was long and easier that way. She’d move the camera aside and look down at his dog and smile. “Beautiful” she’d gesture at Lucky, still smiling. Animals were nice, they didn’t judge you when you woke up from a nightmare. She was lucky, her cats were just as talented at knowing when she needed them. “No problem,” Clint replied, settling awkwardly into the chair across from her. No matter what, he always felt cramped in this tiny outdoor tables. He looped Lucky’s leash around his wrist and let it go slack so the dog could lie down. “Happy to make the trip.” He squinted a little as he studied her face. “You can talk like you do normally. If I need clarification, I’ll ask. But mostly I’m just here to listen. Sound good?” “I talk like the Tasmanian devil, normally.” she grinned a bit at that, though and ran her hand through her hair. “It’s weird, thinking I’m about to spill the whole thing to a virtual stranger.” a faint smile but she knew it had to be done. Because she was going to go nuts. And those who already knew were all about the pity. She didn’t need pity. She needed understanding. “I’ve done a few tours embedded with various arms of the military. Showed up my coworkers every time. Heh. Was pretty willing to stand for hours in the dust and grime and not complain.” she sighed a bit and rolled her shoulders back. Clint wasn’t catching every word yet, but enough to understand the gist: ”...tours embedded...arm...military...every time...hours in the dust and grime...complain.” He nodded, encouragingly, and when she paused and sat back, he picked up the conversation. “I signed up after 9-11. I’d been taking classes at the local community college, but never finished a degree. I thought I was doing something noble,” he confessed. “Something that made me better than the people who stayed behind. Something that would make my family, my community, proud.” She nodded lightly. “I thought that volunteering for all those assignments could help me bring the war to people who… had no idea..” she spoke slowly, thoughtfully, pondering how to put it all into words. “And for awhile? I think I did.” She raked a hand through her hair. “Then the last one happened. It’s mostly trying to play clean up now, or well was. And I figured it will be much safer this time. Boy was I wrong.” Elaine picked nervously at her camera strap, despite it all her camera was still safe, comforting. A public place was probably not the best location for a conversation that went deeper into what exactly had gone wrong on Elaine’s last assignment, so Clint simply nodded, and when the waitress came over to see how they were doing, he smiled and ordered a cup of coffee and the sandwich special he’d seen on the chalkboard as he’d walked in. That, he hoped, would at least communicate that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere for a little while, and she could take all the time she needed. Elaine knew a public place wasn’t great. But she wasn’t comfortable anywhere else yet. It was a fine line to walk and balance on and she was still figuring it all out. Elaine paused and ordered something to eat herself before leaning back in her chair for a moment. She leaned down, grabbed a bag and turned on a tablet. She carefully slid it over. “It was not exactly the best of days.” We were out, I think it was a routine patrol. I can’t be sure, my memory of the moment is rather fuzzy. But we were out. It was a sunny day, bright. Probably why no one saw them at first. The sun glare was playing merry hell with my camera, too. I don’t think I got a single good shot. We were talking and .. next thing I knew there were people. At first we thought maybe locals, well me and my coworkers, but the soldiers we were with were already shoving us behind them, out of the way. She let him read that far as she stared at the sky. So she could write it down, Clint mused, scrolling slowly through the text. That was good. Writing was one step closer to talking; one step closer to healing. He could easily picture the scenario she had written, had been in a similar situation himself more than once, although never with journalists. Elaine carefully typed. Typing was easier than talking. Way easier. She couldn’t talk about it yet. Not without choking up and twitching a bit. She carefully finished the story for him - she’d been captured by, she still wasn’t sure who insurgents of some kind. And spent a week and a half being tortured, beaten, threatened with acts she can’t even bring herself to write, but it wasn’t a fun thing. And she was still smarting from it all, even if most of the physical wounds had totally healed, now it was just scars and memories. There weren’t details, not exact any beyond they broke ribs, an ankle and fingers, but the rest was left to vagueness of someone who wasn’t sure how to describe it all. She waited quietly, staring down at the tablet as if it could fix all of her problems. Then she sighed and reached for her water. Watching him quietly. It was a hell of a story for any soldier, much less a civilian. When she finished, Clint watched her carefully and then slowly, deliberately, he reached across the table and covered her free hand with his own, tan and more broad, but no less scarred. That was one thing that he’d learned, after. Sometimes words weren’t needed. He had questions, and concerns, but they could wait. He’d gotten good at waiting. Fingers curled under his then relaxed. It was almost second nature to try to flinch away. But she resisted the urge, offered him a sad smile, made sure he was looking then said. "Funny thing is, the first day free I was more concerned about my cameras." She shook her head a bit. “We all have different ways of coping,” Clint replied, softly. He squeezed her hand lightly and then pulled back, passing her the tablet and picking up his coffee mug, eyes closing in pleasure as he sipped. Not bad, for coffeehouse coffee. “I hope the food’s good,” he said, deliberately changing topic, knowing she’d need some space to process, not only having relived the event through talking about it, but the intimacy that it brought. “I’ve got a hankering for a good turkey sandwich with avocado. Never was an avocado fan before I moved here, but I suppose it’s a sign I’ve gone native.” She laughed softly, shoulders shaking with held in tears. It was hard to share. But it felt good to know someone understood too. "I am so not an avocado girl, and I've been here since I was 17!" Elaine grinned a bit. Clint returned the grin with one of his own, and made a soft, unconscious sound of pleasure when the server appeared with their food. Lucky’s ears perked up, but being well-trained, he did little more than watch the server like a hawk, hoping she would drop something. She didn’t. He picked up his sandwich, taking a large bite, eyes closing contentedly as he savored the flavors. When he opened his eyes again, there was joy, and humor in them, as he nodded his head towards her food, wordlessly asking how it compared. She laughed softly at Clint’s sound of pleasure at the food. And the well trained habits of Lucky. Sorry kid, no one dropped food this good. Poor pup starving, just starving. Elaine smiled at him. Maybe just maybe someone would drop something. Elaine dug into the sandwich she’d got, a thick turkey with all sorts of non-avocado goodness. She sighed happily then gave her food a good thumbs up at Clint. Grinning a bit. “Good stuff.” she said before taking another bite. Sometimes all you need is to talk and eat a sandwich and the world gets a little better. Clint held up a finger between bites and then dug into his wallet, pulling out a business card, which he slid across the table towards her. His mouth was still full as he chewed, so he used a few ASL gestures to communicate his intent, a kind of shorthand that he hoped was in the realm of comprehension for a self-proclaimed novice. He gestured to his mouth for speak, then brought his two fists together for with, and finally hooked his two index fingers together for friend. It took Elaine a second to put it all together. She wasn’t awful just really out of practice. “Speak with one of your friends?” she hoped she’d figured it out right and put it all together. If not, she was okay with being wrong. Although now she was going to have to take new classes because she hated feeling so rusty. She took the card and looked at it for a moment. It clicked and she smiled. “Oh, thank you.” Clint nodded his head and smiled, finishing his bite before speaking again. “He’s a good guy. He won’t throw you out. And he knows things….” he shrugged a little, self-consciously. “I’m just an old Joe who can’t hear so good. He can help with the talking thing, the group thing.” Elaine grinned a bit. “Good guys are good to have around.” she smiled a bit. “An old joe you may be but you’ve done me some good. “ she said, honestly and smiled. “It’s nice.” she took another bite of her sandwich, sighing in food bliss. Burgers were not exactly daily eating fare! “Uhh...okay, good,” Clint said, awkwardly, and ducked his head. “Right place, right time, I guess. Glad I could help.” He shifted his gaze away, and broke off part of his crust for Lucky, nudging the old dog with his boot, then dropping it on the ground before he snagged it from his fingers. So technically Lucky wasn’t supposed to get treats while he was working, but Clint was a soft touch, for people and for animals. Elaine looked at him. then grinned slowly. “Right place. Right time.” she smiled a bit and couldn’t help but grin inwards. Lord sometimes people were so easy to embarrass. It was too cute, really, from someone like that. She didn’t call him on it, though, that’d only make it worse. She sat back and ponder it all. Really, how did she manage to get lucky enough to talk to people who understood? Clint hadn’t heard her repeat his words, but when he glanced at her she was smiling. He returned it, his expression thoughtful, and then picked up the second half of his sandwich. Some things sucked--like war, and torture, and trauma. But some things were good--like sandwiches, and sunshine, and the feeling of maybe helping someone on their way to healing. |