Weston had his head placed in his hands when Taylor made her appearance in his office. The evidence boards were still plastered with the photos Taylor had taken. Photos that promised something bad crept closer and closer.

Feeling a sense of anxiety over so many unknowns, Taylor tore her gaze away from the boards and looked at her brother. The slope of his shoulders told her it had been a long day.

"Hey," she said.

Slowly, Weston lifted his head and rubbed his face as if trying to rouse himself.

"Long day?" she asked.

Sighing heavily, Weston leaned back in his chair. "Yeah. The worst part is I know that something is coming and I have no way of stopping it, all I can do is brace for impact and be ready to clean up the mess afterward." 

Taylor stared at her brother's profile, the worry around his eyes, the grim lash of his mouth, the exhaustion that weighed on him. It was a part of himself that he never showed them at home. He hid it behind an exterior of calm. Crime was just another distant topic, not something that he burdened them with by telling them the truth of it all.

Taylor knew that he never would, it was how he protected them, protected her.

"What can I do to help?" she asked, needing him to know he wasn't alone.

Though she knew she might never be able to tell him the truth at least she could use her ability to lighten his load whenever she could.

Weston swung his chair around to face her. There was a hesitancy in his face that Taylor knew she could see only because she knew him so well. She straightened, trying to piece together what he didn't want to ask her but knew he had to.

"Is it possible..." He adjusted his jacket, unsure. "Could you take me to the Fitzpatrick's base?"

Taylor crossed over to him and held out her gloved hand. For a fraction of a second before Weston took hold, she wondered if he would know it was her by the size, shape, and length of her hand even beneath the black glove. But when Weston enclosed his long fingers around hers, he didn't react to it.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded and tensed as if preparing himself for a jump off a cliff. The shift from Weston's office to the rooftop held none of the terror of plummeting to ones death but still Weston let out a breath like he was surprised to find himself on solid ground.

"I didn't throw up," he said.

"A bonus of this not being your first time."

Relaxing, Weston surveyed where they were before honing in on the skylight. The pair quietly inched their way over, aware of disturbing the rocks scattered around them. The skylight was dark and when they peered over the edge they looked into an empty room. Something about it unsettled Taylor. She was used to seeing groups of men in the midst of arguments and plans.

From where they were perched and the dim light of the moon, it was nearly impossible to make out the interior. Taylor glanced at Weston, who squinted in a vain attempt to make sense of the darkness.

"Do you want to go in?" she asked.

Weston didn't reply and she could sense the war inside his head. To go in would risk her presence in a place that held dangerous men, but what they risked if they didn't go in was a chance to get more information. Weston curled his hand. When he released it, Taylor knew he'd decided.

"Take us in. But." He stared at her. "You stay behind me and if we hear anything you get us out. If you can't get me out with you, leave without me."

Taylor nodded though it was a blatant lie. There wasn't a chance in hell that she would leave without him, it would be sentencing him to death.

"Okay," he said.

She rested her hand on his shoulder and dropped them into the room. It reeked of cigarette smoke and whiskey. Neither Weston or her moved, waiting for any sound that would tip them off that they weren't alone.

But the room was silent.

By the time they were certain they were alone, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness. What Taylor first noticed when she surveyed the space was the fact that the crates - filled with guns and stacked in the far end - were gone. Her stomach knotted at the unknown of what those guns would be used for.

Weston edged forward, placing each foot with care. He moved to the table without a sound. Taylor trailed behind him, keeping her promise to stick close. Like the absence of the crates, the table no longer held the chaos of papers. It was bare.

Disappointment weighed down Taylor's shoulders. It would have been too easy to have been given free rein to examine the papers closely and decipher what information they were missing. Weston didn't look all that surprised and he turned away from the table to scan the rest of the room. Across the way was a single filing cabinet. He zeroed in on it. It was locked when he tested the handle.

"I might be able to teleport the drawer onto the table," Taylor said.

Weston stared at her. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's something I've been working on."

Still stunned, Weston stepped aside. Taylor put her hand on the metal drawer, heart pounding. Moving a person seemed easier at that moment, a person wasn't connected to a bigger metal object that could make a lot of noise if it was disturbed the wrong way. She closed her eyes, concentrating on only the file drawer, picturing its outline and how it could detach itself from the rest of the cabinet.

Right as Taylor was about to sending her ability into the drawer, footsteps thumped on the stairs outside the room.

Weston grabbed Taylor. "Get us out of here."

Ripped from her intense focus, Taylor froze, disoriented. The footsteps neared as a gruff voice cut through the air.

"Nothing goes wrong next week, you hear me. Every member completes his task or they're cut."

The door knob turned, Taylor sucked in a breath, locked her hands on Weston yanking them away.

Back in Weston's office, Taylor stumbled back, shaken by the close call.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Letting out a breath, Weston sank into his chair, head in hands.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put us in that position. That was too close."

Silence invaded the office as they both tried to rein in their emotions. Taylor crossed her arms, trying to stop her trembling, seeing too clearly how a second or two later could have meant either of them being shot. The thoughts of what could have been hung between them, keeping them locked in place.

The crackle of the radio on Weston's desk shattered the stillness and cut through the million parallel paths they might have taken. As a voice pieced the air, Taylor felt a sharp jerk in her stomach that nearly buckled her knees. Gritting her teeth, she gripped a filing cabinet beside her, trying to stay upright.

"Detective!" the voice was tight with fear, "We need you down here in processing. Men have-"

The voice broke off suddenly and the pain in Taylor's stomach intensified. Weston jumped to his feet, hand out to Taylor as if to help or stop her. Ignoring it, she let The Pull whisk her away.

The second she reappeared, the pain in her stomach vanished, but she instantly saw what had led her there. She was still in the police building, only a few floors below Weston's office. It was a wide layout with a line of benches for people to wait, a long desk where an officer checked people in, and a holding cell for the people to be transferred into.

Right then, the people that should have been the ones taking orders, were the ones giving them. To the four police officers in the room there were ten other men all with the same look about them: tattoos, scowls, and scars.

One of the meanest looking men with a jagged scar down the side of his neck held a gun to the officer behind the desk while the three remaining officers had their weapons trained on the man. The gunman's comrades were glaring at the officers with the guns, hands fisted, eyes burning with anticipation.

"PUT THE WEAPON DOWN!" one of the officers shouted. Though his hands never wavered, Taylor could see the fear in his eyes.

"NO!" the gunman yelled. "You're going to give me what I want or this man dies!"

The shouting match continued, each second thickening the fear and adrenaline that coursed through the room.

When the gunman jabbed his gun further into the face of the front desk officer, Taylor made her move. She appeared right next to the gunman, touched his gun and sent it to the desk. In the stunned moment after, she touched the gunman's arm, sending him into the holding cell.

Chaos exploded in the room.

One of the scarred man charged into an officer and a gunshot went off, making dust rain from a ceiling. The front desk office dived for his stolen gun while another man plowed into him, both of them crashing to the floor.

Two more men attacked another officer who fired at them, eliciting a scream from the injured attacker. The man in the cell slammed his fist into the glass, trying to yell orders. The last armed officer was hit from behind and crumpled to the ground.

Ears ringing, Taylor popped out of sight and back behind a pair of tattooed men kicking the fallen officer. As she sent one into the holding cell, the other spun on her. She dodged the blow, raced forward, pressed her hand to his chest adding him to the collection in the cell.

Someone barreled into her from behind and she crashed into a wall. Stars sparked in her vision as a hand grabbed her shoulder and twisted her around. The man raised a fist. Taylor clamped her hand on his arm and he vanished, joining the others.

Staggering, Taylor blinked herself out the dizziness in time to see three men sprinting towards a side door. Before Taylor could go after them, she heard a strangled cry. A man had one of the officers pinned to the ground, his hands on his neck.

Taylor raced over, stumbling in her haste. The officer's face was bright red as Taylor reached out and teleported the attacker into the cell. Leaving the man gasping, she jumped to the opposite side of the room, sending more men away. With each attacker dealt with, she worked harder and harder to stay focused, her mind turning into a hazy of exhaustion.

By the time she handled the final man, she wobbled with fatigue and could hear the thundering of backup arriving. A door banged open and heavy boots pounded into the room.

"Freeze!" an officer shouted.

Taylor spun around, trying to see who she had missed. A gunshot ripped through the air and blinding pain tore into Taylor's arm. She screamed, dropping to her knees as agony lanced through her.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" Weston yelled.

Taylor clutched her upper arm, feeling as blood seeped out even through her gloves. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold herself together, but it was like fire was trying to consume her.

"Shadow, my office!"

Taylor heard the command, but she grappled against the pain to make sense of it. Finally processing what it meant, she flipped the scene to Weston's office. She collapsed against the wall in her dim corner, clutching her arm, tears gathering in her eyes.

As the initial way of pain ebbed, she struggled through her thoughts, trying to think of what to do, but thinking was like running though an unknown city where buildings appeared out of nowhere and smashed into her.

She knew she needed help. She needed to make the pain stop. The hospital. The hospital could make the pain stop. She couldn't go there. Why couldn't she go there? She knew that she couldn't, but the reason why hovered out of reach.

She grasped for the reason. She shouldn't be here. She was too young to deal with this. That's why. She was too young. Her parents would be told. They couldn't know.

Pinching her eyes closed, Taylor held onto her arm, feeling as blood continued to stream out. Lead filled her veins, weighing her down, drowning her in weakness. The edges of her vision darkened, she fought against unconsciousness, she needed to think, to find a way out of the pain. 

The hospital. No. Make the pain stop. Stop. Dominic. He could stop it. He could.

Taylor felt her head falling to the side but snapped it back up, blinking herself back into the world, to where she was, what she needed to do. She clenched her arm, forcing herself to think clearly.

Dominic could help, but she needed to get patched up. Bandage the wound. Bandage. Clint would see it. At least she didn't start this fight. He couldn't be mad at her. He would be proud of tonight. But wouldn't like the wound. It would scar. A scar. A mark. A bruise.

Taylor blinked.

Bruise. She once had a bruise. It healed. Earthy smelling stuff. Clint's sister.

The final thought sliced through Taylor's wandering fog. With a shaking hand, she let go of her arm and searched for her phone. As she dragged it out of her pocket, the office door banged open and Weston sprinted across the room, dropping to the ground in front of Taylor. When he saw how bloody her jacket sleeve was, he swore.

"I'm getting you to the hospital," he said, reaching to help her stand.

With what little strength she had, Taylor pulled away. "You can't."

"Shadow, you're bleeding! We have to go to the hospital."

Letting go of her phone, Taylor tiredly raised her hand to her hood and pushed it back. She stared straight into her brother's shocked eyes.

"We can't...mom and dad can't know."

**********************************************************************

WHAT THE SNAPPY SPANDEX!!!

OH MY SUPER SUIT!! SHE TOLD WESTON!!! AHHHHH!!!! TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!!! 🦹🏻🦸🏼‍♂️🦸🏽‍♀️

Oh hulking hulk this is not good! How is Weston going to react? What's he going to do!?! Oh boy oh boy will the suspense never end!!

Breathe! I think it's all really important for us to keep breathing cause it means we stay alive and if we stay alive we can find out what happens and if we did find out what happens then we can come to terms with it all and if we come to terms with it all- *passes out from lack of air*

*wakes up* Where was I? Oh yes, the suspense is killing!...Well I mean for you, not me, I have the absolute pleasure of already knowing what is going to happen. 😁

Predictions on Weston's reaction go!

I know you hate me for this cliff hanger but you have to admit this was what you've been waiting for since you found out that Taylor and Weston were siblings. So really, I don't think you can blame me for this!

Okay, you kind of can but it doesn't change facts. I win! 😎

amüsant Fakt  (German):  Early on in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, we see a list of cultural events that Cap intends to catch up on after being on ice, and depending on which country you watch the movie, you'll see  on the list.

Vote, comment, follow but only if you stand for over the top and painful cliff hangers!