Post by Brand on May 24, 2010 3:34:10 GMT
Abigail yawned, stretching slightly and rolling over. She had expected to be snuggling against her husband (not that she snuggled. No, she was Abigail Brand, a kick ass SHIELD agent. She did not “snuggle”) after one of their usual "fight-then-makeup-sex” nights. They were trying to make it work, despite their rather rocky and unconventional beginning. Of course, it usually ended with them in a fight or in the bedroom or some combination of the two, but that was beside the point.
But to her surprise, the bed was empty aside from herself. She opened her eyes- an envelope sat on the pillow next to her. She sat up, tilting her head to the side. She ripped open the envelope-
“Abs…”
She scanned through the letter, her hands shaking slightly by the time she got to the end. She glanced over at her desk where the divorce papers that had been drawn up so long ago but neither of them had gotten around to signing sat in a neat pile. She stood up, flipping through the papers. They were all signed.
She sat back down on her bed in shock, re-reading the letter again, the few key words popping out. Long-term mission… success rate… didn’t know if he’d be back… Wouldn’t be fair to her…
Not when. If.
She clenched her hand into a fist, squishing the letter. Blue fire appeared in her hand, setting the letter alight. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. She scrambled to get dressed, and the next thing she knew she was yelling at Maria Hill. How could she have done something like that? He was one of the best agents, he couldn’t be sent on a mission like that. She… SHIELD… needed him.
Then she was in an office that she recognized as belonging to SHIELD’s psychologist, her hand wrapped in bandages from where she had apparently socked Hill so hard she had hurt her own hand in the process. He was saying things about “anger management”, “burnouts”, and something about probable Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or some psychobabble along those lines. He also said that it would be best for her to take some time off, because it wasn’t healthy for someone to work as much as she did and not take any time off…
Great, a forced vacation.
She didn’t realize that she was apparently that crazy.
So that explained why Abigail was where she was now- sitting in a little Japanese restaurant in Washington, D.C., nibbling on dango. She had spent most of the day at Arlington Cemetery, visiting Anna and Grace’s graves, not knowing what else to do. Once the Cemetery had closed she found the restaurant, wanting nothing more than her choice of comfort food.
But to her surprise, the bed was empty aside from herself. She opened her eyes- an envelope sat on the pillow next to her. She sat up, tilting her head to the side. She ripped open the envelope-
“Abs…”
She scanned through the letter, her hands shaking slightly by the time she got to the end. She glanced over at her desk where the divorce papers that had been drawn up so long ago but neither of them had gotten around to signing sat in a neat pile. She stood up, flipping through the papers. They were all signed.
She sat back down on her bed in shock, re-reading the letter again, the few key words popping out. Long-term mission… success rate… didn’t know if he’d be back… Wouldn’t be fair to her…
Not when. If.
She clenched her hand into a fist, squishing the letter. Blue fire appeared in her hand, setting the letter alight. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. She scrambled to get dressed, and the next thing she knew she was yelling at Maria Hill. How could she have done something like that? He was one of the best agents, he couldn’t be sent on a mission like that. She… SHIELD… needed him.
Then she was in an office that she recognized as belonging to SHIELD’s psychologist, her hand wrapped in bandages from where she had apparently socked Hill so hard she had hurt her own hand in the process. He was saying things about “anger management”, “burnouts”, and something about probable Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or some psychobabble along those lines. He also said that it would be best for her to take some time off, because it wasn’t healthy for someone to work as much as she did and not take any time off…
Great, a forced vacation.
She didn’t realize that she was apparently that crazy.
So that explained why Abigail was where she was now- sitting in a little Japanese restaurant in Washington, D.C., nibbling on dango. She had spent most of the day at Arlington Cemetery, visiting Anna and Grace’s graves, not knowing what else to do. Once the Cemetery had closed she found the restaurant, wanting nothing more than her choice of comfort food.