Liar

Kennedy’s eyes stared at the dash of the SUV and curled her hands into fists slowly. The cuts across her palm ached but she barely blinked. Blood still oozed from her nose and mouth, dripping down to spatter on her legs. The side of her face was numb but she didn’t think her jaw was broken. She just didn’t want to see her face anytime soon.

Sliding her tongue over her teeth for the seventeenth time, she was relieved that they weren’t cracked or broken or missing. That was the last thing that she needed. With a grimace, she let her eyes drift shut for a few seconds before forcing them back open. Breathing softly, she glanced over at James as he drove, steely eyes focused on the road.

She still had her guns on her and her knives. Pulling a gun on him wouldn’t be the brightest idea that she had ever had though. It would be up there with her top three stupidest ideas. But desperate people do desperate things. If she wasn’t desperate at this point, she wanted to see someone who was.

Kennedy forced herself to close her eyes for just a few seconds. She felt her heart rate increase now that she could no longer see him. She coughed, gagging on the blood drizzling from her mouth and her stomach heaved. Her throat convulsed and it took everything she had to not vomit her guts all over the floorboard.

The feel of his eyes boring holes into her back made her skin shiver and her stomach heaved again. Blood spattered from her lips as she doubled over, arms encircling her stomach. She choked again and squeezed her eyes shut. A grimace tugged at her lips and she shivered again while trying to not actually vomit.

The SUV slowly crawled to a stop, engine idling. As she reached towards the door, a hand caught her by the shoulder and jerked her upright. She flinched, twisting in her seat so that her back was to the door and her feet were aimed in his direction. A barely amused look flitted across his face as he stared at her.

“You are barely worth the hassle,” James sighed before he was suddenly in her face.

She shrank back against the door, her discolored eyes staring up at him with pupils blown wide. The muscles in her legs were tensed, ready to kick out if need be. But right now, she was caught between a rock and a hard place. So she did, by far, the stupidest thing that she had done all day.

Kennedy spat a gob of blood and saliva in his face.

Her fingers scrambled for the handle and jerked at it while he was blinded. His hand struck her across the face, sending a spray of blood from her mouth. Temporarily disoriented, she fell backwards from the SUV when the door opened. By the time she staggered to her feet, it was too late. James had fallen out after her and his hand wrapped around her ankle to yank her back to the ground harshly.

Twisting to her back, Kennedy kicked at his hand with her free foot and tried to scramble backwards at the same time. The grip on her ankle tightened to grind the bones together and she screamed, half in frustration and half in pain, as he hauled her back to him and pinned her to the ground. The hunting knife was in his hand, gleaming down at her wickedly opposite it’s owner’s vicious smile.

“If you being alive wasn’t necessary, I’d carve your stomach open right now,” James snarled, lips pulling back from his teeth slightly when he spoke. “But there are other things that make bitches like you more…compliant.”

Swallowing, Kennedy yanked her knife from it’s sheath and stabbed it into his thigh. A snarl of rage bellowed from his throat and the animal gleam was back as she scrambled backwards. His metal hand came down on her ankle, pinning the limb to the ground so that she couldn’t go any further. Her hand wrapped around a gun strapped to her thigh and yanked it loose before squeezing off a shot.

The first bullet caught him in the shoulder and she saw the blood mist spray as the bullet exited. The grip on her ankle loosened enough that she could slide free. She was on her feet and so was he, arm held awkwardly as blood stained his shirt. He could easily use one arm to kill her or knock her out, but he had to catch her first.

Before she could squeeze off a second shot, he lunged at her and fisted a hand in her black hair. Kennedy twisted and the wig came loose, sliding off her head. She brought the gun up and fired off her second shot straight into his knee cap. It was the same leg that she had stabbed and it collapsed beneath him.

She should have killed him then, or knocked him out, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned and ran as fast as she could. Arms and legs pumping, Kennedy gritted her teeth together and forced herself not to look back. If he was following, she didn’t want to know until he shot her or tackled her.

An angry roar echoed after her as she ran along the pavement, her ankle aching. He still had the SUV; he could catch her with that. And possibly bleed out in the process. When it came down to self-preservation, it was one area where Kennedy always knew the outcome. No one would let themselves die. Not even brutally cruel assassins who would go to any cost to get what they wanted.

Sucking in deep breath, she tried to ignore the pain in her body and the blood on her face and nose. Her face throbbed and every step sent a jolt through her body. She didn’t stop running though, even when every step took too much out of her and a mouthful of oxygen didn’t give enough back. Jaw locking, Kennedy focused on keeping her stride even.

Three miles to New York City.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her forehead pressed against the elevator wall, body sagging weakly. When the doors opened, it took everything she had to push herself off the wall and stumble into the hall. Staggering, Kennedy’s shoulder bumped against the wall more times than she could count as she shuffled along. Grimacing, she let her forehead rest against the door as she knocked.

The sound of feet shuffling on the other side reached her ears. So did the sound of a gun being loaded. Swallowing, Kennedy closed here eyes to listen to the sound of the locks being undone. When the door swung inward, so did she.

Rocko caught her, his arms wrapping around her as he carefully lifted her and brought her inside. A sob ripped from her throat and then she was crying, hands fisted in his shirt and a mess of blood and hot tears staining his shirt. His big arms wrapped around her tight, holding her to his burly chest while she sobbed.

The ground disappeared beneath her as he lifted her, cradling her in his arms, and carried her into the bathroom. She was choking on her sobs and her attempts to breathe only made it worse. Rocko sat her on the edge of the bathtub and just barely managed to separate himself from her grip. He turned on the water of the bath before crouching down in front of her.

He didn’t touch her but she could feel his eyes searching over her face, looking for the worst first. She sniffed before coughing, her body shuddering as the air got caught in her throat. Blood dribbled over her split lower lip and she swiped her arm across her face to wipe it away. It smeared instead and her face smarted from the action.

Rocko stood and opened the cabinet above the sink. He rifled through it before pulling a few things out. A couple packs of fresh gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment rested on the countertop alongside a pack of butterfly stitches, a bottle of Tylenol and a clean cloth. He disappeared from the bathroom long enough to bring back an empty bowl, a glass of water and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

Kennedy sat there numbly, watching as he plugged the bathtub up now that the water was warm. After a minute, he pulled her jacket off and tossed it into a corner before doing the same with her boots. He left her underwear and tank top on as he sat her down in the rising water of the bath tub.

“Someone really didn’t like you tonight, did they?” Rocko murmured as he passed the cup and bowl to her.

Kennedy shrugged and swilled a mouthful of water around before spitting it into the bowl. She did that a few more times before taking the gauze from Rocko and packing it in along her cheeks. Closing her mouth, she lowered her hands into the water and looked up at Rocko.

He dipped the cloth into the water before gently wiping it across her cheek. It stung but she forced herself not to pull away as he gently cleaned the blood from her face. The dried blood hurt the most because he had to put some pressure behind the cloth to get rid of it. Beneath the water, her fingers curled into fists and her nails bit into her palms until the pain focused there.

“You’re going to be a lovely shade of purple tomorrow,” Rocko said quietly before turning the water off. “Or, you are now.”

“Time is it?” Kennedy mumbled around the cotton stuffed in her mouth.

“’Bout three-thirty, something like that,” Rocko replied while carefully wiping away the last traces of blood. “How’d you get here?”

“Ran a lot, walked a little,” she muttered, eyes closing.

“You want to tell me who fucked up your face or can I just guess?”

Kennedy opened one eye and looked at him before staring at the floor. Her eye slid shut again and she wrapped her arms around herself. Sniffling, she reached up and wiped her nose all without looking at Rocko. He sighed and gently ran his fingers through her short hair.

“What happened to the wig?”

Kennedy reached up and ran a hand over her skull slowly. For a moment, she couldn’t remember what happened to the wig. Her brow furrowed and then she remembered. She had shot James and he’d grabbed her hair, the wig, and she’d shot him again.

Something like a pained moan slipped from her throat and she pressed her face into Rocko’s chest. His hand stroked her back slowly as the other smoothed her wild hair. She stayed there for several seconds before Rocko pulled away. His blue eyes stared at her quietly, his eyes bright and inescapable from this close.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Rocko murmured softly, “okay? Nobody can live like this. I know you’re scared and don’t you damn well try and lie to me. I know when you’re lying and I’ve been cleaning your skinned knees since you were too young to be doing this. But listen to me, okay?

“The things that you do aren’t what put you here, in this situation. It is the distance that you are willing to go that draws men like that to you. You are a survivor and you fight like hell to come out alive. Men like that, men like Loki and the Winter Soldier, are drawn to people like you because of one thing. Those people that are willing to do what has to be done are the ones who have the most to prove.

“Sometimes, the thing that you have to prove the most is that, to survive, you are just a human being. You aren’t a god, you aren’t a super-soldier or a giant green beast. You are one human being who knows how to fight and knows how to survive. You do what you have to for survival and sometimes survival is admitting that you can’t do something alone.”

Kennedy swallowed and wiped her nose. Her arms hugged her legs to her chest while her chin rested on her knees. Sniffing, she hugged herself tighter and stared at the water. Rocko’s hand brushed across her back slowly, reassuringly.

“I don’t want anyone else to get killed for me or because of me, Rock. And I’m going to do whatever I have to so that no one else gets hurt,” Kennedy said softly, her hands gripping her legs tightly. “If I don’t do what I have to, the people I care about are going to get hurt or die. I’m not willing to let that happen.”

“And what if doing what you have to kills you?” Rocko asked, eyebrows lifting. “Nobody is invincible.”

“I can’t afford to think like that,” she shrugged. “If I think about this practically and my odds at surviving, it’d just be easier to bite the bullet myself.”