v;cat in the cradle

Wherever he was, it was pretty cold.  The boy tugged on his leather jacket - it had been an old one of his father’s and had quickly become a comfort to the young man in the face of being stuck in such a hostile place - and lit a cigarette while he waited.  

Aleksandr had been tasked with training with some guy named Rumlow and so he had to wait.  His father was on a mission anyway but he still worried.  Often.  The man was so, so deadly and yet so, so vulnerable.  It was why he did as he was told - at least this way Aleksandr could bide his time until he had what he needed to free his father and then run.  He was brought out of his reverie by his tutor entering the room.

It came on like a freight train, hitting her full force without even giving her time to get to the bathroom. “No, shit no,” She whimpered from her place in her bed, curled up in the fetal position face down on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen. She hadn’t had a panic attack for years, she stopped taking her medication on a daily basis because she didn’t need it anymore, but she was glad now that she still had a few of those tiny pills for times like these. She still got it refilled regularly because she didn’t know if Lorazepam expired or not, and she didn’t want to take the chance. Not in case this might happen again one day. “Preston,” She whimpered out, hoping that even in his sleep, he would be able to hear her pleas. She needed him to get those stupid pills, there was no way she’d be able to get them herself.