Trust in me
And I don't even know what kind of things I said
My mouth kept moving and my mind went dead
So I'm picking up the pieces, now where to begin?
The hardest part of ending is starting on again
Waiting for the end-Linkin Park
It was official; Emily had to be utterly and completely out of her mind for agreeing to this. She was in Paris, the cobblestone streets were well worn with the occasional passerby in the afternoon sun. Many citizens were enjoying lunch as a car passed in the road. She was standing on the sidewalk in front of a café; the small shop was empty except for a man she could clearly see in the window. He was looking down at a folder in his hand, waiting patiently for someone. He looked tall, wore a black trench coat and had an eye patch over his left eye. He was a dark skinned African American man that seemed to be in his middle thirties. Emily swallowed nervously and looked down in the note in her hand,
It is time for us to meet
Along with the address scribbled hastily underneath, that was all the note said. Emily tugged nervously on her blouse. Her brandy colored hair was so long she had to braid it, but that didn't stop it from touching the ground. Her face was elegantly shaped, with full luscious lips and icy blue eyes. She was only an inch or two over five feet, dressed in a tan and white blouse with a pair of faded blue jeans topped off with a pair of tan hiking boots.
Emily Branson gave a shuddering sigh and steeled her courage. She adjusted her satchel that held the book that had changed, and possibly, ruined her life. She pushed open the door, a tinkling sound from the bell caused the man to look up and watch her walk in. She swallowed; her nerves were already on edge. She didn't feel threatened but every nerve in her body wanted her to turn tail and run. She ignored her doubt and stumbled up to the small round table the tall male was sitting at. There was no doubt in her mind this was the person she was supposed to meet; his next words confirmed it,
"Do you want something to eat, Ms. Branson?" He asked politely, "You look a little starved." There was no way he knew her name unless he already had information on her. How much did he know? Words failed her so she just nodded and sat down with him. With a flick of the wrist the woman who had been managing the store hurried over and slid a plate of scones and croissants in front of her. Emily's stomach started to rumble at the sight and smell of the food in front of her. It had been a day or two since she had last eaten, she couldn't risk walking into a store for fear of being recognized. Especially after the incident in Venice.
"That'll be all, thank you." Said the man, the woman bowed her head a bit and turned to leave the store. This was obviously a private meeting between the two. Slowly, Emily picked up her food and began to eat. Sweets like this had suddenly become a luxury in the last year since she had found the book. As she ate her fill, the man waited patiently for her to finish, he didn't look irritated at her. He only seemed to make sure she was eating enough, a look of concern in his eyes.
Finally she pushed away her plate; only crumbs remained. "Thank you." She whispered, the man nodded and closed the folder he was looking at, apprehensively she looked away, "If I may ask, sir-"
"What are you doing here?" he finished for her; he smirked at her and set down the folder in front of her. She gave him a quick glance before she timidly opened it. She cringed as she recognized the street in Venice she had completely wiped out. Her companion nodded, "I'm here about that." Terrified she looked up. She felt panic rising in her chest, her heart beat faster and in response to the overflow of energy in her body the windows started to rattle violently. The dark skinned male just smiled civilly at her,
"Ms. Branson, I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to offer you help."
Slowly everything calmed, Emily eyed him suspiciously, "Help?" she asked lowly, and she looked down at her hands. "How can you help me?"
"By giving you a safe home," came his answer, she looked up at him, "A home where you don't have to hide who you are. A home where no one is going to hunt you down so they can use your gift for evil or to experiment on you. We understand that many others have offered the same thing only to betray you, I understand that you have your doubts."
Emily scoffed, "You call it a gift, but it is nothing but my curse. You offer to help me control it? How, do you have someone that can teach me?! Or are you going to stick me in a room and tell me to try?"
"For right now," his words were slow; he was being careful on how he said his next phrase, "It is all we can offer."
Emily wanted to cry, what else could she do? Here she was eighteen years old and she had nowhere to go and no home to go back to. Everyone wanted her either dead or alive so they could poke her with needles. She abruptly stood throwing the chair back; she tried her hardest to stop the tears from falling as she gave a bow of her head,
"I'm very sorry, but I must decline your offer. If you can give me no real help then I am better off on my own."
She turned to leave, she was about to walk through the door when he called to her,
"We're not going to force you, Emily. The decision is up to you. But let me ask you one thing?" She looked back at him; the man was now picking up the chair she had thrown to the floor. "What will you do when you lose control again?" She hesitated with an answer, "Where will you go? Who will willingly let you into their home? Everyone around the world knows your face for what you did in Venice."
"That wasn't my fault!" she snapped back, she clutched the satchel tightly in her arms. If that man hadn't tried taking her book, the very thing that had been her life for a year, she never would have lost control. She never would have destroyed that street, that poor little girl with the white teddy bear would have never died.
"I know that, but what will you do if it happens again? Because if it does, the next time we meet will not be on pleasant term, Ms. Branson."
Emily gave a strangled sob; she just wanted to be normal again, or as normal as she could possibly get. She wanted to go to college to get her degree in music. She wanted to play the piano all over the world. She wished she could go back in time so she could stop herself from finding that stupid book in the ruins. She looked up at the man, he had slowly walked up to her, his face showing genuine kindness and worry, as if he truly wanted to help her. And she had no doubts that if she did leave and lose control again, he would come to kill her.
Emily nodded her head, "Ok," she whispered, her shoulders dropped in defeat. "I accept you offer." Utter relief washed over this man's face, he had been hoping she would accept. She could see that, he didn't want her to go, but she held up her hand before he could speak, "But why? Why do you want to help me?"
He gave her an inquisitive look, "Because, for what it's worth, I believe that you can save the world if you tried. Your powers, your curse, can be made into something good. I believe in you, and, in time, so will everyone else." Emily looked out the door window; she couldn't imagine what it would be like for someone to thank her for using her powers like that. But she couldn't help latching onto the idea, praying that she could make a difference. She wiped away her tears and smiled softly, perhaps that was something worth fighting for; she turned back to the man and nodded. He held out his hand for her to shake,
"My name is Nick Fury, I'm Director of an organization called S. H. E. I. L. D., welcome to the family, Ms. Branson."
Well with this, "Angel" and "What I've been looking for." I certainly have a lot on my plate. But I was re-watching The Avengers the other day and it occurred to me that the guy who plays Bruce Banner, who was remarkable by the way, Mark Ruffalo , He is so damn cute it's got to be illegal. So I was inspired to write this after I watched it, because Bruce needs some happiness in his life.
And to be clear on things, Emily is a witch, not by choice. I will have her explain things later on in the story but this is just a clarifier. Which also explains the black book that gave her, her powers. So Read and review please. I spent a lot of time on this.
P.S. Emily's Theme is "Molde Canticle" by Sissle. You can find it on grooveshark and on youtube, so look it up and let me know what you think about her theme.
Update: Fixed some errors and cleaned up the grammar.