i love you from here

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Charlie is back in a good place, both physically and mentally. Her jaw is healing well, though she still can't open her mouth all the way and it still hurts. But it is healing. And her mental health is back up. That last visit from Jake was oddly bonding for the two of them, though Charlie spent most of it in a drugged haze. But Charlie doesn't stress so much about his visits now. He hasn't come back yet, but it's only been two or three weeks, so Charlie hasn't expected him to.

She's been thinking about that panic attack that Jake had a lot. He seemed so rattled afterwards. It's a definite possibility that he doesn't know what, exactly, he's doing. Or he doesn't have control over it. Whatever it is, autonomy isn't a word in his vocabulary. Everything he does is monitored and controlled. Charlie noticed the way he checked the calorie amounts on everything he ate before he ate it, though he ended up disregarding the information. Unless he was trying to eat some 2,000 calories in one serving. Not that that would be particularly bad; he needs that. He's underfed. That's the only explanation for how much he eats, even if his metabolism is off the charts.

Riley barks. Charlie turns around.

"Holy shit! What the hell happened?" Charlie exclaims. Half of Jake's face is scraped and coated with dried blood. There's a gun in each of his hands and a massive dent in the back of his left (metal) hand. The prosthetic is audibly whirring and grinding.

"Nothing."

Charlie can't help but laugh. It's ridiculous, the way Jake is acting. "Something obviously happened, Jake."

He looks like someone tried to kill him, and someone probably did. Jake really is going to be killed one of these days. But you know what? Who knows? He's survived fifty years somehow, according to the FBI websites.

Charlie is pretty sure that HYDRA just replaces him every decade or two. No human could be over the age of fifty and look like that. If they did, chances are they'd be a Chippendale, not an assassin.

"Don't call me Jake."

His tone is colder than it has been the last couple of visits. For a moment, fear creeps into Charlie's thoughts. She's not going to forget her broken wrist anytime soon. She's not going to forget the reason why she had that TMJ surgery and why there's a wire still holding her jaw shut. Sure, Charlie trusts him a lot more than she used to. But does she trust him enough to feel safe when he sounds like that?

Hell. She doesn't trust anyone when they sound like that. Thanks, dad.

"You've got to tell me what you want me to call you." Charlie cringes as she listens to her voice. She wasn't as aware of it when she was on so many painkillers, but her words seem unfinished, because of the spacers. Combine that with how quickly she usually talks and it makes for some awkward speech.

Where's my gun? Charlie wonders. She wants to have it on hand in case Jake starts getting mad. It turns out she doesn't need it. Jake takes one of his own guns and places it on the counter top between them. A gust of chilly wind comes in through the window. It's refreshing. Jake moves to shut the window.

"You can leave it open," Charlie tells him. "And what's with the gun? I have one." It doesn't matter that she's not sure where it is. She has one. Jake knows that. He's almost been shot with it multiple times.

Jake holds unblinking eye contact. He looks annoyed, as if Charlie is getting on his nerves. She's his superior, of course, but holy shit, she won't stop asking questions. His missions are not her business. And the gun is just a precaution HYDRA has him take back at the compound. He has a history of... inconsistent moods, if you will, and they want to make sure he doesn't snap on them and kill someone. He's used to it. He can't be trusted, and he can't trust himself. There has to be a back-up plan. Always a back-up plan.