The Hedgehog and the Fox - Sea of Air

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More time passes.



But things really didn't change until later. Not until they'd been with Clarent House for a while.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. Who lost her place, and then found it again. What's more, she found a group of people like her. A little lost, a little out of place, but still striving to do good.

There were missions they went on. They did a lot of good. Sometimes it went well, sometimes it didn't

Then, the girl started being put in the lead. Her bosses, John and Dafyyd, never listened to her protests.

You're ready for this, they often said.

So now she had a team. It was Donal, whom she trusted more than anyone, Pash, the genius baseline who sometimes veered a little too far into mad scientist territory for Jennie's liking, Winston, who to his delight was made official once he passed his A-levels, and Nigel, a grumpy ex-con and Clarent House's latest misfit toy.

It was going well, until the day they ran afoul of a witch and Jennie found herself stuck as a life-sized doll.

Her team had come to her rescue, but when she was stacked with the witch's other victims, they nearly lost her. Until...

"They're all reading as non-organic," Nigel said, brushing his hands over Jennie's. Jennie shuddered in her prison.

I'm right here! she screamed. Look at me! Donal! LOOK AT ME!

"Jaysus," Donal said, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "Where is she? If she's not here then where?"

Here, Donal, I'm here.

"We should keep looking," said Nigel, casting another disgusted glance at the other dolls. "These things make my skin crawl. It's like they're looking at us."

No, don't leave me, please don't leave me, despair washed over Jennie. Please God, don't leave me.

"Yeah," Donal agreed, casting once last look around the room.

"Let's go, there are other rooms," Nigel said, making for the door.

Jennie suddenly couldn't see anymore, both Donal and Nigel went blurry.

Please, don't go

"WAIT!" Donal said. His blurry shape stopped. "Nigel, wait! Look at this one!" her vision cleared and he was looking straight at her, ashen.

Nigel came back into her line of sight. "Is it... is it crying?" he said, horrified. "But it's completely inorganic! That's impossible!"

"Improbable," Donal corrected. "And what does she look like? Dark hair, blue eyes?" Donal said, kneeling down in front of her.

"Jennie?" said Nigel. Jennie's heart leapt.

It's me, it's me! I'm here! I'm here!

Gently, Donal brushed a hand against her wooden cheek, and it came away wet.

Holy shit, I am crying.

"Jen?" he said, red eyes looking into hers.

Yes! Yes! Donal! Nigel!

"Fuck me, look at the state of you," Donal fingered one of her dark curls. "What did that witch do to you?"

Nigel kneeled at her other side. He picked up one of her wooden hands in his own, and held it tightly. He frowned. "Still not reading anything off of her."

"Well, she's in there," Donal said. "Any idea on getting her out?"

"Not unless you have a hacksaw on you," Nigel said sourly.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Donal smacked Nigel.

"What?"

"You know she can fucking hear you, right?"

"Well, do you have any bright ideas?" Nigel said, rubbing his head.

"Not at the moment," Donal said. He got down and looked into Jennie's glass eyes. "We'll fix this, Jennie-girl. Don't you worry." He gave her wooden hands a squeeze, even though she couldn't feel it. It was the principle of the thing.

Oh Donal, how do you always make me feel better?

There were things that they would do for the other. Both were highly protective. If pressed, it was because Donal was her student, and Jennie the first person who ever took a chance on him. And yet.

They had figured a way to save her. Save the captured people Jennie had originally tried to help. But they were cornered by the witch. She had a puppet just like Jennie, and through the puppet Doll-Jennie had attacked her friends. Unable to stop herself as the woman cackled and made her dance. Crowing that her strings could not be cut by anything made by a man. No blade would ever be strong enough.

But her friends were clever, her team had been well trained, and they soon gained possession of the Jennie puppet. But the witch's prediction was true, nothing they could do could free Jennie. And what was worse, the witch had cut off her air. So Jennie lay in her prison, suffocating, while her friends scrambled to save her. Then Donal stepped in.

Donal looked at the puppet in his hands, at the tangled strings. "You say nothing made by man, eh?" he smiled, almost manically. "How about something that is a man?" He pulled out his knife and slashed open his palm, before gripping the strings tightly. They began to smolder. He gritted his teeth from the pain.

"Stop!" the woman cried. "Stop it now!"

"Oh, no, I don't think we will," he said, his calm voice belying the sweat on his brow and his face ashy from pain. Acid dripped from his palm and hit the floor with a hiss. Then the strings burst into bright blue flame. Donal swore but held on tighter.

"Give her back to me, you bitch," he hissed through gritted teeth.

The woman screeched, running for Donal, claw-like hands extended.

Pash jumped in and with a vicious roundhouse, knocked her down, Winston jumping on top of her and holding her down with a knee on her back.

"Don't you move none," he said. "You may be as old as me Gran but I'll still kick the shit out of you."

The woman began to keen, and it was a terrible sound. But Donal held on as an awful smell began to waft in the room, part burning string, part burning flesh. Then, with an almost anti-climactic sizzle the strings in his hand broke and the Jennie-poppet fell to the floor.

And the Jennie-puppet jerked and sucked in a huge breath, becoming a girl again. She coughed, a series of racking spasms as her lungs forced themselves to start working again. Hands that were flesh pushed herself over, onto her back, and she sucked in lungfulls of air greedily.

"Mother... fuck," she gasped, while Donal pitched forward, cradling his arm to his chest.

"Jesus," Nigel said, going for him, but Donal shook his head.

"Tend to Jennie," he said, "Can't do nuthin' for me. See t'her," then he curled in on himself. "Oh fuck me this hurts."

Nigel seemed torn, but then got up and knelt down beside Jennie, who was racked by another coughing fit. He took one of her hands in his own, and laid another cool one on her forehead. The familiar tingling sensation as he linked his bio-signal to hers calmed her, and her spasms mercifully stopped.

"Hi Nige," she said weakly.

"Hello," he said, and then he did the weirdest thing. He smiled.

"Donal, you okay?" said Pash, putting a hand on his back.

"Yeah," he said, sounding strangled. "Yeah, b'fine," he looked at his hand and then turned an alarming shade of green. "Ooh, that's bone."

"Don't look," Pash said quickly, stripping off her jacket and throwing it over his hand, "Don't look, just let it heal."

"What we gonna do with her?" Winston said, from where he was pinning the witch to the floor, she was hissing and spitting and swearing. "Man, me gran would backhand you for that language," he added, wincing.

"Don't know, don't care. Throw her someplace deep and dark," Nigel said, helping Jennie up.

"Wait," Jennie said, and then weakly knelt down in front of the woman. She grabbed a fistful of the woman's hair and forced her to look her in the eye.

"Hello Auntie," said Jennie, a touch too calm. "Can you please tell me where the other poppets are? We'd like that ever so much."

The woman hissed and spit.

"Okay," Jennie opened her eyes wide. She was feeling entirely too calm for all of this. She reached up on the shelf, to where the woman's rag doll lay. There was something special about this one, the way the woman spoke to it. Held it, loved it.

"See, you know what's hilarious is that I know exactly what will happen if I throw precious in the fire," Jennie held up the rag doll. "So where are the poppets again, Nanny?"

"You wouldn't," the woman hissed, yellow eyes narrowed.

"Try me," Jennie said, her blue eyes like ice.

The woman spat on the floor, "You won't. You can't. You have goodness written all over you, inside and out. You don't have enough darkness to do it. You'll get nuthin' from me. FUSTYLUGS."

"'Kay," said Jennie, sitting back up. With a casual toss the rag doll landed square in the fire.

The woman howled and kicked, as if she were the one in the fire. "No! No! I'm begging you! Stop!" tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks as smoke poured out of the fireplace. "Stop STOP PLEASE!"

Jennie leaned closer. "Auntie, where are the other poppets?"

The woman sobbed wretchedly. "In the cupboard next the stairs. Just please-- my baby girl--" and the fight went out of her, and she collapsed in a heap.

Jennie stood with only a slight wobble, and then reached into the fire. She winced from the heat, but luckily wasn't burnt. She removed the rag doll from the fire and brushed the ash from her dress.

"Huh," she said, turning the doll over. "Not a mark on her, how lucky," she said, and tossed her to the woman curled on the floor. The woman snatched at her and clutched the doll to her chest, whimpering.

"Well, you heard her, oof--" Jennie took another step and her legs gave out on her. Nigel barely caught her. "You'll find the others in the cupboard." She noticed that everyone was staring at her.

"You... you didn't mean to hurt it, did you?" said Pash.

"Pfft, of course not," Jennie said, casting a glance at the woman, who was holding the doll and murmuring to it. "It was safe the whole time. Like she said," Jennie looked back up, tossing one of her ringlets out of her eyes. "I don't have that kind of darkness in me. I may be a sneaky bitch, but I'm not evil," and she smiled.

Pash nodded, looking relieved, while Nigel lead Jennie to a chair.

"Pash, can you get the poppets from the cupboard?" Jennie said, "And Winston, please make sure that 'Auntie' stays where she is." That didn't seem to be like too much of a problem, the woman stayed where she was, huddled on the floor.

"We may have to wait a while on cutting their strings," said Nigel, looking at Donal.

"Ugh," Donal groaned. "No, I can do it. I just need, perhaps, a few more minutes..." he trailed off with another line of very creative swears.

"Nigel, can you get him a chair?" Jennie said. She picked up one of her ringlets and frowned at it. "Also, somebody should call John. We need a pickup."

Her team scrambled, because she had trained them well. That left her and Donal alone for a few quiet moments.

"Are you ...okay?" Donal said.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," Jennie said, nodding, her voice a touch too high. "As soon as backup gets here I'm going to have a complete nervous breakdown."

"Okay," he panted, "Good."

And without thinking about it, Jennie's hand went to his head, and she ran her fingers through his hair and he leaned against her leg with a sigh.




In the present, Jennie and Clint prepare to face the Copenhagen Killer head-on




They worked in silence, checking and re-checking the equipment, Jennie taking calls from the Danish police, promising to report to their own safe house, knowing she would do no such thing.

The girl's name was Edith. She had been taken three hours ago from a studio not far from the fourth dump site, which was near an abandoned cannery.

From what information they knew, and the extent of the torture of the other victims, there was a chance she was still alive. But that chance dimmed the more time ticked by.

Shrugging his shoulders to settle his light body armor more comfortably, Clint reached for his arm guards and then nodded. "I'm good to go, if you are." He had a full quiver, multiple types of trick arrows, and backup options that actually involved bullets, just in case.

"I'm ready," Jennie said, tightening the straps on her own body armor. Her face and voice were deadly calm. If there was any terror or horror at what she was about to walk into-- who she was about to face, it didn't show. She was completely professional. Gone, finally, was the rough and untrained girl whom John Preston had taken under his wing. The leader of Clarent House stood in front of Clint, and she would do what needed to be done.

Clint marked the shift in Jennie's demeanor and allowed himself to fall into what he liked to call his mission mindset. Cold, clear, logical. He nodded and tipped his head toward the door. "You're taking point. I've got the blueprints for the cannery memorized. Where do you want me? Am I playing guard or backup? Both?"

"Guard. Right now, the only thing on our side is surprise. He is expecting me and only me at this point. If he realizes I have allies, you will be putting yourself in extreme danger, even more so if they get a read on your identity. I'll be taking the major asset," she nodded at the bag at the corner, "Plus the things Romanov left for us. I'll get the girl out, and neutralize him. Once you get the girl, and if I'm not out in ten, you take her and you run. Do you have that? Don't play hero."

"Understood," Clint said, nodding. He knew that he actually would do as Jennie instructed, if only to make sure that he could get away and give this intel to Brand. Coulson and his people could handle it, but given the weird aspect of Fian's transformation, it was probably more up SWORD's ally than SHIELD's. Still, letting Coulson know wouldn't be a bad idea, either. Because if Jennie didn't make it, he had a feeling there'd be almost nothing to stop Mother and her Disciples if things weren't readied quickly. "Shall we?"

"The one good thing that will come out of this, the killings in Denmark will stop," Jennie said, cracking her neck. "Let's go, Hawkeye."

But if they didn't manage to contain Fian, if they didn't manage to stop Mother -- well. That didn't mean much, did it? The killings here might stop, but there would be others. "Yes, ma'am."