❝ they're gonna watch me disappear into the sun . . . ❞
[ a marvel fanfiction ]
[ agents of s.h.i.e.l.d ]
[ full description inside ]
❝ . . . you're all gonna watch me disappear into the sun...
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── CHAPTER ONE WELCOME TO LEVEL SIX ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
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ON THE DAY IT BEGAN, Agent Carol-Anne Harper was technically off work. She didn't often have days where her clothes weren't weighed down by the weight of her badge, and even on this particular occasion she only had the morning to herself. In truth, she was struggling to remember the last time she'd taken a day to be Anne, rather than Agent Harper.
Even this hadn't been of her own volition; the time off had been prescribed to her after her Supervising Officer had found her working far past the end of her shift for the third time that week. Apparently, not only was this unhealthy, it was also extremely frustrating for her bosses. They had to pay her extra for the overtime, after all.
So, they forced her to have the morning off. A part of her wondered what would happen if she went to work anyway — would they let her in, or would she be rugby tackled to the floor by armed guards? The second was perhaps slightly unlikely, but Anne couldn't help but find herself amused by the image.
She slept late. While usually she'd be awake at five, completing her morning Tai Chi as the sun rose, that morning she lay in bed for much longer. Having been woken in the earliest hours by a familiar nightmare, she'd desperately clung to the frayed threads of sleep for as long as she could. Its embrace was fleeting and weak, but she kept herself wrapped in it, and it was approaching nine by the time she finally got herself up, showered, and dressed, her coffee cooling in her hands. The top floor of a Los Angeles building was going to explode soon, but nobody knew that yet. In an hour, Anne would make a decision that would ultimately lead to her own ruination, but nobody knew that yet either.
By half past, she was already on her way to visit her mother. It wasn't a long drive, but to Anne, it always felt like it lasted hours. By the time she arrived, the car park was empty — but then again, it usually was. She visited her mother enough to say that with confidence. A weekday morning, the sun partly obscured by clouds — places like this always fell silent. Even more silent than they usually were. A heavy stillness settled over had her as she walked down the path she'd committed to memory over the last few years. Bright flowers bloomed from the beds lining the paths, a stark contrast to the familiar grey gravestones that served, to her, as markers for her journey.
Was it strange to measure herself by the dead? To measure her journey by the graves beside her? To think of them, in some strange way, as her friends?
Perhaps. Yet, still, a part of her did. She visited this cemetery at least once a week, and was incapable of walking past a S.H.I.E.L.D memorial without stopping and speaking a few silent words. These days, she likely saw more of these graves and the names upon those walls than she did the handful of living friends she had. She knew them all without looking — perhaps not by name, certainly not by face, but she knew them. There was one that always had a half drunk six pack, except on the holidays, where a half empty bottle of the same scotch would rest gently against the headstone. There was one one that always had bright, blooming flowers, regardless of the time or day. The one with toys, laid out with care and precision. The one that was always empty. The one with coins. The one with stones. Then, the one Anne was looking for.
