So, it was over.
You called the cops on his phone, there was plenty of evidence for them to piece it all together, swiped the photo from his pocket, and wiped the place of your prints. You left everything you brought with you except your gun and things in your pockets, your art supplies would simply slow you down.
You made your way back to the hotel and did a thorough clean up there as well. You packed everything you didn't want to throw out, fitting the rest into a backpack and duffel, before trashing everything you didn't need. You wiped the place clean, not a trace of you left in it before you went down to check out. After that, you went by the bakery one last time.
"Salut, Miss Caffrey!" Pierre's father, Soren Bouvier, greeted you cheerfully from behind the counter until he noticed your distressed state, switching to his English which he asked you to start teaching him a few months back, "What is wrong?"
"I need to leave," You told him sadly and he nodded in understanding, not knowing exactly what you did, but knowing it was dangerous and could lead to this some day, "And I wanted to give you something before I did."
"You have given plenty," He assured, rounding the counter to pull you into a big bear hug, "We will miss you, mi amor."
"You've been like a family to me," You frowned, tears stinging your eyes as the bigger man pawed at his own, "And I want to pay you back."
"You save bakery," He chuckled, "I owe you everything, you owe me nothing."
"Here," You held out a yellow envelope and when he shooed it away, you insisted, "Please."
The strangled plea in your voice told him a few things. It told him not to argue, it told him this was hard for you, and it told him you didn't have much time. That single plea was enough to make this grown man weep and the tiny American girl before him was trying so hard not to break because she was raised tough but give her a warm hug and a place to feel safe before ripping it all away and she'll break. She'll break if given the chance and he didn't want to be the reason for any more of your pain.
"Merci." He muttered, taking it from your hands carefully, and you nodded, looking away.
"You've been like a father to me, Soren," You told him seriously, "And Pierre like a little brother," He knew you lost your family, but not the whole truth, "I hope to be back one day and with that," You gestured to the envelope, "I hope you're able to stay in business for a long time and send Pierre off to a good college when he's old enough."
"Merci beaucoup." He offered again, his chin shaking, and you grabbed him into a hug this time.
He held you tightly, not wanting to let go, and he wanted to ask you to say goodbye to Pierre, but he was at his day camp and he had a feeling you couldn't wait around long enough.
"Okay," You mumbled, pulling away after a long moment, wiping your tears, and nodding to yourself, "Okay."
"Au revoir." He called as you turned to leave with your bags, and you waved over your shoulder.
"Au revoir, my friend."
You didn't care anymore.
You were so distraught with everything you had learned and done in the past six or so hours that you didn't even hesitate to take a flight out of Paris under your alias. It wasn't an alias tagged from SHIELD or anything, but the man you killed knew it, so you should've burned it the second you had a chance and made a new one first, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care right now.
You were allowed to keep both bags as carry-ons and with your ingrained paranoia, it's a good thing too. You plopped down in your first-class seat, another careless move, and let yourself relax. You took a deep breath and ordered some rum to soothe your nerves from flying before watching whatever looked good enough. You ended up falling asleep soon after you started the second movie, the first's sequel, but sequels were never as good as the original, so you didn't mind missing it.
You always liked airports and train stations.
Everyone was in their own little worlds, running around or checking their phones or simply waiting and it kept it busy. People never stayed for too long and nobody noticed anything around them that didn't affect them specifically. It was a chaotic anonymity that you have grown to appreciate over the years and now that you weren't in a rush, you found a free bench and just took a breather.
You needed to get your head on straight and probably be smart about your next moves, always going in the same circle. Burn your last identity, forget the name and details entirely, and start again.
Always starting again.
But you were tired of doing that over and over again. You wanted just once to be you, Y/n L/n, without the looming threat hanging above. It's why life at the tower felt so freeing, even being at SHIELD's beck and call. You could fully be you, wrapped in a bubble of a corrupt organization's protection, but the people inside this bubble with you were good people. They always did what they believed was right and what they thought was best for the world. It was intimidating and a bit irritating at first, but it actually ended up inspiring you eventually.
About an hour later you were making your way outside with your bags in tow, a place in mind where you could crash safely, and nobody would come around to disturb you for at least a while.
So, you hailed down a cab and hopped in, keeping your bags on the backseat next to you. Being without your guns, not allowed to bring them on the plane, kept you a bit on edge, and you were thankful for the one encoded with nanotech that Tony helped you make forever ago. It was undetectable and untraceable, but that also came with some downsides. Like being small and only being able to hold a couple of bullets at a time.
"Where to?" The driver asked with a slight turn of his head towards you, pulling back out into traffic.
You smirked to yourself, glancing out the window for only a moment, and then looking back to him,
"Brooklyn."
