𝗗𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘

Léon

A/N: when i was first coming up with the idea of isabell and james, back before isabell even had a name, i designed their relationship based on léon and mathilda from the film 'léon: the professional.' 

nowadays, they obviously have their own dynamic and traits, but they were fundamentally created as léon and mathilda. therefore, i thought i should pay them a little credit, so this chapter is named after léon, and also a song by 'alt-J', which is about him!!! the lyrics are so utterly jamie and iz that i could cry. (idk why it evokes such emotion when I LITERALLY CREATED THEIR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP IT'S ALL MADE UP but i slept two hours last night so i'm a little bit delusional)

James briefly considers locking Isabell in the car.

However, when the idea is suggested to her, she glares at him so furiously that Clint Barton laughs, and kicks him firmly in the foot. It doesn't hurt, but the message is clear.

She plans to fight too. Whatever it takes.

He feels slightly nauseous.

To take his mind off of it, he picks her up and lets her settle in his arms, the warm weight of her holding him steady. In comparison to his own mental chaos, Isabell seems strangely calm.

She bounces her ankles against the small of James' back, tracing shapes across his forehead and humming to herself. Still tired but comforted, almost happy. They're getting away. If luck is on their side, it will just be her and him again, which is the exact and only way she likes it.

James feels almost sad.

Leaving means leaving Steve. Leaving forever. Life on the run isn't lonely, never lonely with Isabell, but there will be that same hole in his heart where Steve used to be. He'll spend the rest of his life pining over somebody who will probably never think of him again.

Not in a good light, anyhow.

But James pretends not to think of that. He simply readjusts Isabell on his hips, presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose, before speeding up a little to catch up with Sam.

It is eerily quiet in the abandoned airport, the only sounds being Isabell's soft singing and Sam muttering to somebody through some device in his ear.

James frowns. He feels strangely excluded.

"What are we actually looking for?" He asks, pretending not to be distracted by Isabell fiddling with his hair. Sam doesn't even look at him.

"Quinjet."

Isabell's nose crinkles. "What's a Quinjet?"

"'S like a weird-ass flying tank," Sam explains, "Pretty hard to miss."

"Like for aliens?" She says. He gives her a surprised sort of smile, like she's done something to please him.

"You like aliens?"

"Depends what sort," She shrugs. "I'd rather have a dinosaur."

"Touché."

James silently praises Isabell for her charisma – it certainly makes up for his lack of it – and gives her a quick visual check-down. Her face has nearly finished healing, the split in her forehead has formed into a neat scar, and her ribs feel almost normal when he presses against them.

Physically, she's ready to fight.

Mentally, he isn't quite sure.

Before he can say anything, though, Isabell leans over his shoulder and points to something on the right side of the building.