"I've always wondered what a perfect family felt like, although no family is perfect per say, but I'd love for once to feel like I belong to someone, or something."
–Words from Audrey's
personal journal
____
WASHINGTON D.C. | THE TRISKELION SHIELD
June 14th, 2012
"DIRECTOR, sir, she's up and in bed," agent Hill informed.
"Good," he said. "I'll go have a 'chat' with her. Jog her pretty memory for the past year and a half," he paused, "or just this twenty four hours."
____
Audrey awoke with a dry throat and an itchy shoulder. Her inky eyelashes gradually opened, and her obscure vision focused and picked up on dim, but natural light. Still a little hazy from the attack, she started to move her fingers, one by one, each arm and her legs. Once concluding that everything seemed to function smoothly, she tried to sit up and search her surroundings more in depth, but upon stretching her neck muscles, a large ball of pain went spiraling down in the back of her head. She winced and quickly fell back on the small cot she laid on.
Okay, lets try this slower, she thought, grinding her teeth.
Little by little, she grasped all her strength, and through the painful sensation that slammed in the back of her head, she rose upright and leaned her back against a cold brick wall. A heavy breath mingled out of her mouth, then another. She lulled her head off the wall, and opened her eyes, and wandered the room with only the capability of her sight. Her limbs were useless in their numb state.
Not to her surprise, the room was as simple as any jail cell she had known. Chipped white walls, a brown tiled floor, two cell windows built into the wall on the other side of the room, metal bars welded in front of the glass, and an open bathroom with a sink next to the toilet. Audrey felt queasy, and swallowed the saliva in her mouth as she stared at the toilet, and dreaded when the time came when she needed to use the open bathroom.
Her shoulder itched again, the sensation so bothersome that she peered down at her side ready to scratch the living hell out of her skin. But immediately her arm froze midway, when she happened to notice a white gauze was wrapped securely around her wound. Huh, a bandage, she thought raising her brows, that would explain the itchy shoulder.
As her skin itched to be scratched, so did her fingers to tear away the gauze and see the damage underneath. But that never happened, for an agent of SHIELD who guarded the cells, banged on hers and barked, "The Director's here to see you."
She looked up at the middle aged man who she presumed never went to a single party in his youth, and glumly continued to stare at him. When it became clear she wasn't going to respond, leaning her elbows on her knees, he moved to the sidelines, and the next thing she saw was the swoosh of the end of a black trench coat.
"Hello Embers."
"Good day Director," she slowly drawled, and finally flickered her eyes away from the ground, and up at the dark skinned man. No smile occupied her pretty face twisted into a bored frown.
"Good to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same thing." She noticed her voice was hoarse and scratchy, most likely due to her dry throat and mouth.
"You've grown some since last I saw you," he commented, carefully, and cautiously watching as she rose from her spot on the cot.
She toed her way quietly towards him, raised her hands, and curled her fingers around the cold steel bars. "Don't suppose I can get a drink of water in this place? And some Advil would be nice," she added, angling her head to the side and shutting her eyes briefly. Her face was in an obvious mask of displeasure. "Who was that, that hit me anyways?" she asked, and when she reopened her eyes, she saw Fury incline his head to the agent who first informed her of the director's arrival.
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A Reckless Soul | Captain America ✓
Fanfiction"Come at me like a real man, or does your religion not allow you to spill blood?" She laughed and further lowered her lips to his ear, whispering, "You're weak and pathetic Captain." *** She was r...
