Always Mine (An MCU Fanfiction)

26. Looking Over My Shoulder

I spent over a month with Sylvia in Cape Town and got acquainted with Zak and Letta. While in town, I discovered Craig, which made me suspect he was still following me. Figuring that he defied orders to stop tracking me, I booked a flight to Manila with Zak's help. Catching sight of Craig sent a jolt through me. I'd hoped the tracking had stopped months ago.

 To throw Craig off my trail, Zak helped me fool him into thinking I was heading for Madrid, Spain. Sylvia would head there and try to convince him to stop what he was doing.

I ended up spending a week in the Philippines. I stayed with a family that Mom was well acquainted with whenever she visited the country. Like Clint's family and the Kemps, they were off SHIELD's radar. 

After a week passed without any sign of Craig, I cautiously relaxed. Maybe Sylvia had finally convinced him to stop. Maybe he'd given up. Either way, I quietly made my way back to the United States.

After changing planes in Denver, I landed in Missoula, Montana. My parents had a safe house just on the outskirts of the city. My maternal grandparents owned a ranch before they passed away. Afterward, Mom and Dad turned it into a safe house. Few people even knew it existed.

Only Fury, Hill, and Phil Coulson knew the location.

Everyone else believed it was simply another abandoned ranch in rural Montana. Brett and Gunner Kemp watched over it.

My family.

I called ahead and let Gunner know when I'd land. Considering I'd be stranded in the middle of Montana without a car, I definitely needed somebody to pick me up.

Besides, Brett still thought flip phones were the pinnacle of technology.

I arrived at the airport lobby, where Brett and Gunner waited. I hadn't seen them in person since meeting up with them in Germany when Gunner was flown from Afghanistan after accidentally stepping on a landmine while attempting to help evacuate some villagers during an insurgent attack. Losing his legs hadn't broken his spirit. He adapted to a wheelchair and prosthetics with the same stubborn determination he'd always had.

I ran toward my adoptive father and brother and threw my arms around them both. I buried my face in Brett's shoulder. For the first time in months, I didn't feel like I had to keep looking over my shoulder. Gunner shifted in his wheelchair before reaching up to ruffle my hair like he always had.

"Still short," he teased.

"Still annoying," I shot back.

He laughed. Before Afghanistan, he used to drag me into every reckless adventure he could think of. Tree climbing, dirt-bike riding, fishing in streams we definitely weren't supposed to be near. More than once, both of us ended up grounded because of one of his ideas.

Brett smiled as we headed outside. "You've changed a lot. Did you grow some more?"

"A ton. I've got a lot to tell you guys." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and nodded.

I followed the guys to the parking lot, where we got into a rusty red pickup truck. I tossed my backpack onto the bed and got into the center seat.

Brett had always preferred fixing things over talking about feelings. If the washing machine broke, he'd have it repaired before sunset. If someone was upset, he'd quietly make dinner and let food do the comforting.

The pickup truck itself was proof of that mindset. It was nearly thirty years old, covered in scratches, and somehow still running because Brett refused to get rid of it.