The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!
Chapter Nineteen: Numb
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. probably some drinking.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them.. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, dazzledfirestar, mistress_o_muse, ginevrasm, rylan_m, and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.

The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers! - The Index

Miri watched from the corner as the door opened and closed, allowing Natasha to slip from the room. She was bone tired, weary to the very core in ways she never had been before. It still wasn't over yet, either. She knew that much. After a quick, to the point debriefing with Director Fury, she'd come to the hospital to check up on everyone. She had no doubts that Fury would be along directly, as soon as he finished "interrogating" the prisoners for information.

So far, Natasha was the first person she'd seen here. It seemed everyone else was busy. Or maybe it was just that they couldn't bring themselves to look at the faces of the injured. Miri flowed around the corner and started for the door Tasha had just exited, her mind turning over all she'd learned in the debriefing with Fury. She'd found out that the injured were so great in numbers that medical staff was being shipped in from trauma centers all over the city. Someone had gone through and set up a system, tagging the injured with colored cards. The lightest indicated the least injured and those who could likely wait for medical attention while the darkest were given to those who needed immediate care.

She'd already looked in on Elsa, not at all surprised to find Captain Rogers sleeping in the chair next to her bed. His left arm had been in a sling and a few faint bruises smudged the tan on his cheek. Dr. Jones had been sleeping, too, though Miri was sure her slumber came from drugs more than anything else. Her right arm had been laying across her chest, covered in a red, white, and blue cast. There was bandaging taped to her forehead and her uncovered arm was scratched and scraped.

Miri had withdrawn without disturbing them, asking a nurse just how badly they'd been injured. She'd been assured that Captain Rogers' injuries were minor and were already healing. Elsa, on the other hand, had suffered cracked ribs and had lost some blood on top of her broken arm. Her recovery would take weeks and it was possible she'd have to go to physical therapy for the arm. After thanking the nurse for the information, she'd gone off in search of anyone else she could look in on.

At the back of her mind, she knew she was avoiding thinking about Phil. Avoiding recalling the scene in the wrecked bridge of the helicarrier when she'd finally found him. And she was definitely avoiding thinking about the fact that Stark had put the facts together so easily. If she could keep herself from thinking about Phil, she wouldn't go insane with fear and worry. So she'd found ways to keep her brain occupied. She'd checked in on a few agents, people she'd worked with, and had actually exchanged well wishes with the few she'd found who were conscious.

As she approached the door that Natasha had come out of only a minute or so ago, she recalled clearly the sound of Alex's voice. She'd worked with Alex for a long time and she'd never known the woman to panic in the field. Even when the odds had been stacked against them, Alex had kept her head, had managed a cool, calm exterior. But there'd been none of that woman in the voice she'd heard over the comm unit, when Alex had demanded a medical evac for Clint. Instead, there'd been panic and fear coloring her words. And, under that, a deeper emotion.

Miri had known for a long time that something was going on between Alex and Barton. Her friend's reactions to the man had always been far too sharp to be pure dislike. Miri had been willing to dismiss the thoughts tickling at her brain where her best friend and the archer were concerned. Up until the moment she'd learned Alex had slept with him. That said more than Alex had obviously wanted Miri to know. That had been the first really conclusive evidence that there was something deep between them. Alex's voice earlier, strident with anger and fear and panic and love, had sealed the deal.

The door opened on silent hinges to reveal that the lights were dimmed with exception of the single bulb over the bed. It cast soft light down onto Clint's sleeping face. A face that, while usually tan and healthy looking, was pale with his injuries. He was unconscious, no doubt on good pain killers. Someone had managed to put a hole in the man's thigh with a nine millimeter and he'd bled a good long time before Alex had found him. Speaking of Alex...

Miri glanced up at the glass windows near the ceiling. Every room in the S.H.I.E.L.D. hospital had a ring of windows in them that allowed observation from the second floor. This gave the rooms extra high ceilings. A quick scan of the windows showed her that no one was looking in on Clint from above. She found that curious but put it out of her mind for the time being. Instead, she gave her attention back to Clint and studied the bruises, scrapes, and marks that marred his skin. She'd heard he was lucky to be alive.

Alive. She swallowed hard and glanced up once more. This time, she stared straight at the ceiling. There was no denying it now. She'd kept the thoughts at bay long enough, but seeing Clint like this was all it took to start the flood of ideas and notions rolling through her brain. "Please. God. Anyone. Whoever is listening. Let him be okay," she whispered softly. After one last look at Barton, a hard stare so that she could sear the memory of his injuries into her grey matter, she slid out of the room and started up the hall, her path random and aimless.

She just wanted somewhere private.

She wasn't aware of where she was going until she turned a corner and saw a pair of heavy wooden doors before her. It was as good a place as any to go and let everything out. Miri sighed softly, pushed forward toward the warmly stained doors.

Like most major metropolitan hospitals, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical facilities hosted a multi/non-denominational church where people could go to pray or think in silence. The wood was warm under her hand, as if trying to convey warmth and sympathy when a person touched it. The door swung open easily, silently, and allowed her entrance into the sanctuary. Whoever had designed it had obviously had comfort in mind. Everything was soft colors and warm wood and welcoming. A stained glass window designed like the great rose windows seen in cathedrals all over Europe was backlit with soft light so that the floor was painted with color. Muted organ music poured out of hidden speakers and the fresh scent of flowers and citrus tickled her nose.

Miri strode forward, heading for the very front of the room. It was quiet here, peaceful in a morbid kind of way. Just what she needed to help clear her mind. A quick glance around the room showed her that it looked to be empty, which was fine by her. She picked a pew near the front and slid into it, took a seat and bowed her head in order to whisper a silent prayer.

She was jerked out of her state by the sound of one of the doors opening. Miri glanced up in time to catch sight of someone leaving the small chapel, though she'd been sure no one had been there when she'd come in. She thought she saw a limp black pony tail before the door closed and blocked her view. When she turned back toward the front, she spied a pair of red votive candles giving off light from a darkened corner. They hadn't been lit before. She allowed herself a slight smile before everything and everyone slid away. All except for Phil.

Despite Stark's attempts to urge her out of the bridge while the med unit went to work on Phil, she'd refused to leave. She'd watched in stoic silence as they'd assessed his injuries with quick efficiency. And as she'd done so, she'd worked at walling away every ounce of softness that she held within her. Her love for Phil, her worry and fear, all of it was locked behind a thick metal door in her mind. All she'd left out was her anger and rage, her hatred and the need to destroy those who had done this. She'd nursed those dark feelings, encouraged them to grow so that she could continue to function. There was no way she could do so otherwise.

And, god, he'd been a mess. She'd heard them mention a broken leg and a head injury. They'd also mentioned other things like bruises, cuts, and scrapes. The one that had frozen her heart in her chest had been possible internal bleeding. She'd forced the air in and out of her chest with slow, deliberate breaths as she'd waited for them to finish assessing him. As she'd waited for them to load him onto the stretcher and wheel him away. When that had happened, she'd walked with them. She'd watched as they'd loaded him into the chopper. And she'd felt her heart shatter. Just a little bit.

She didn't know what she was going to do without Phil. If he didn't survive... She knew she should be positive, but she was a realist. She knew how serious his injuries were. She knew that the odds of his surviving them were slim. Even slimmer were the odds that he'd survive and still be himself. There was so much against him. If she was a religious person, she'd be on her knees praying right now. If she was a religious person, she might not feel so conflicted and hopeless. But she wasn't. And she knew exactly what the score was.

The music blurred. The smell of the flowers and the candles faded. The light dimmed as she climbed inside of herself and combed slowly through the strands of memory that held Phil. His soft voice. The tenderness of his touch. His love of big band music and the night they'd gone for coffee. The way he touched her. The way he smelled after sex. The crisp lines of his suits and the splashes of color that were his ties. The way he could be soft and gentle one moment, then demanding and hard the next.

She'd never before thought about the complexity of he who was Phil Coulson. Had never before considered that it was all of these things and so much more that made him so physically and emotionally appealing. There was so much to him, so many things that nobody knew. It was all this and more that had seen her falling in love with him. Most people saw the quiet, almost mousy man who worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. Most people soon realized that that quiet, almost mousy man had a spine of steel and was more than capable and well suited for any task given him. That was the Phil Coulson that most people saw. But she saw the whole man and she loved him for it.

If he died...

"Agent Grant?" A hand touched her shoulder a moment after the words slipped into her head. Miri blinked and looked to her left, found a nurse standing there. The woman offered her a timid smile. "You wanted me to let you know when Agent Coulson came out of surgery? They're moving him into ICU right now. You should be able to go see him in about fifteen minutes."

"Yes. Thank you," Miri nodded. She paused a moment, then took a breath. "How... How is he?"

"The doctors said that the surgery went as well as can be expected. But they won't know anything for sure until he wakes up. Right now, they're being cautiously optimistic." The nurse flashed her a deeper smile, then turned and left her alone.

Miri considered that. Cautiously optimistic. That was doctor speak for "We don't know so we'll just have to wait and see." and she didn't like it one bit. It didn't really tell her anything. But she'd seen him before the med unit had swept in and started working on him. She knew the odds. Even if what she saw on the surface was all that had happened to him, it was still a long road. Add in the head injury and that not only added to the recovery time, but it threw a wrench in the works. It was possible that he wouldn't be able to overcome a head injury. And if there had been internal bleeding... She felt the small kernel of hope that had sprung to life in her chest when she'd found him alive wither just a little more.

She knew she should go see him. She could use the observation area on the next floor up to look in on him. No one would think it odd that she was doing so. He was her superior, after all. But she couldn't. Because she knew, if she saw him now, she'd break down and cry. And she wouldn't be able to stop. It was a chance she couldn't even think about taking. Much as she wanted to be at his side, much as she wanted to hold his hand and tell him that it would be okay, that she was there for him, she couldn't do it.

The decision hurt. She hated that she couldn't sit beside him and give him all of her love and support. But their relationship wasn't something she could advertise to the other people. She was pretty sure they wouldn't understand. God, she hated this part of the job. The hiding and the lying. The worrying about him when he was in the field. The everything. It was all so confusing and tiring. She thought about the nurse's words.

Cautiously optimistic. It wasn't all that great in the grand scheme of things. But it was better than dead. For now.

~*~*~*~*~

Her head felt fuzzy, the same way it had felt fuzzy that one time she'd had far too much wine to drink on an empty stomach. There was a peculiarly weightless feeling to her body, as if it was floating off somewhere without her. There was a faint echo of aches and pains, though they felt distant. As if they weren't entirely hers. And her mouth was cottony and dry. They were all sure signs that she'd been drinking. But she couldn't remember drinking. In fact, her memory was slightly distorted around the edges and she really couldn't remember much of anything that might have happened to her recently.

Prying her eyes open showed her an unfamiliar room. But something about its uniform appearance sparked a brain cell or two at the back of her mind. She let her eyes drift slowly, making note of everything she saw. A television mounted up high on the wall, in such a place that watching it while laying down wouldn't be a strain. Generic, lightly colored wall paper with faint, undefined patterns on it. Curtains a few shades darker than the paper drawn over what she assumed to be a wall of large windows. Small closet that wouldn't hold much. A door standing slightly ajar leading into what she expected was the bathroom. Another door, closed completely. The only things that seemed out of place to the soothing, plain look of what she assumed to be a hospital room was the row of windows up high on the rather towering walls. And Steve sleeping in the chair beside her bed, arm in a sling across his chest.

Elsa frowned and tried to think of a reason why she should be in a hospital. Something must have happened, but she couldn't recall what. Everything was a large blur. She tried seeking out the controls of the bed, but her right hand failed to obey her commands. Lifting her head a little, she saw why and things made much more sense all of a sudden. Her right arm, from the joints where fingers met hand up past her elbow, was encased in a sleek, light weight cast. Some part of her was absurdly pleased to note that someone had used red, white, and blue fiberglass to create the cast.

The broken arm did and didn't explain the hospital room. All she needed to do was remember what had happened to earn her a broken arm. She tried to think it through, but her brain was muddled with a faint, dull throb of pain and the slow burn of pain medication. She managed to lift her left hand and confirm her suspicions. An IV had been taped to the top of her hand and a slow turn of her head showed her an IV stand with a couple of IV bags hanging off it. That definitely explained the fuzzy, floating feeling. But it didn't explain anything else. She frowned and tried once more without success to remember something. Anything. Not one single memory leapt forward to help her.

Obviously something bad had happened. "But what the fuck was it?" she muttered hoarsely.

"Elsa? Are you okay?" Steve's words saw her seeking him out again. He was stretching while still sitting in the chair, his form lithe and sleek despite his dishevelment. She allowed herself the luxury of watching him reach for the ceiling with his good arm, of watching the muscles in his legs bunch and flex as he straightened them. When he sat up, his eyes were clear and filled with concern. "Is something the matter? Do I need to get your doctor?"

She almost answered him right off the bat, but decided to give it serious thought before doing so. Her brain turned fuzzily for a few seconds as she mentally evaluated herself. After deciding that the pain meds, whatever they had her on, were doing a damned fine job, she gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm fucking peachy."

He gave her a dubious look. "Are you sure? That's the second time I've heard you swear in less than a minute. And I don't think I've ever heard you use exactly that word before," he told her. She frowned.

"Which word?"

"The 'F' word."

Damn. She'd hoped that he would actually say it. Oh, well. There was always next time. "Fucking Alexis and her dirty fucking mouth," Elsa finally explained, her good hand in the process of finding the controls for the bed. In moments, she was sitting up in a reclining position and a faint pain twinged across her chest. "It has to be the fucking pain killers. I don't usually talk like this."

Steve gave her a faintly disbelieving look, but he said nothing more. Elsa took the opportunity to give him a good once over. Beyond the fact that his clothes gave the appearance of having been through a nuclear assault, she could see minor scrapes marring bared skin. There were a few bruises, almost too faint to really see, leaving spots of color in his tanned face. And then there was the sling. She gave it a hard look and saw, for just a second, a falling bookcase flash through her mind. "What happened?"

"We were attacked." There was no hesitation in his answer. She felt absurdly grateful that he would tell her the truth immediately. There were few people who did that with her. She wasn't so completely innocent that she hadn't seen tragedy before. This was just the first time she'd ever been involved in a tragedy.

"How bad was it?"

"I don't have numbers. But the helicarrier is a disaster. We crashed in Central Park. On the ride over here, I found out that HYDRA not only attacked the carrier. They went after the base, too." Elsa felt the color drain from her face at that. So many people...

"Steve, how bad is it?"

"Like I said. I don't have numbers. But I know they were still digging survivors out of the carrier when they put you and I in an ambulance. I think someone said that seventy five percent of the base took serious damage. As for lives..." he frowned and shook his head. "I haven't heard any names yet. I can't really tell you."

His words were what opened the door to her memories. They were still fuzzy, but she could recall enough to piece together what had happened. She'd been in the lab with her team, looking at samples, when the alarms had started blaring. She'd sent them away, told them to go to their cabins. She would put the samples away. Then the ship had lurched to the side and the book case had fallen on her. She'd laid there, pinned. Bleeding. Injured. She couldn't be sure how long that had been the case. But then... His voice in the darkened room. Elsa raised her eyes to him, her mouth forming a perfect O in surprise. "You came for me."

The wonder in her voice brought a faint blush to his cheeks. He reached out with his good hand and took hold of hers. And the smile he gave her was as the sun coming out from behind the clouds to stream down upon her. She basked in the warmth of his smile. "I had to, Elsa. You're my girl," he told her softly. Then blushed all the harder when he realized what he'd said. She wasn't sure if he was embarrassed by what he'd said or how he'd said it. Not that she cared about how he spoke. Those moments of antiquated speech were simply part of his charm and she loved that about him.

"Am I?" she asked him.

He stared at her for a few seconds, as if weighing the answer to her question. Then his smile curved up higher, became something deeper and sensual. "You are, Elsa. I love you."

She felt the tears well up in her eyes, tears of joy and happiness. Of disbelief. And she said the only thing she could think of that fit the situation. "Fuckin' A!"

~*~*~*~*~

The images were horrible. She needed to stop watching. But she couldn't. She couldn't turn the television off anymore than she could stop the small voice in the back of her head, the one that whispered at her in Loki's insidiously gleeful voice, that this was her fault. Somehow, everything that had happened was her fault. Maybe not in the sense that she'd orchestrated it and set the ball into motion. But she'd had the answers and she'd done nothing to ensure that those answer got to the right people in time. And now... This.

"... unable to actually enter the park. A police barricade at every entrance and exit has kept our on the spot team from taking any footage, but a few witnesses who didn't want to be shown on TV or identified by name have told us that something large came down in the center of Central Park only a few hours ago." The image of the reporter, face set in serious lines, disappeared. It was replaced with some grainy footage of Iron Man flying into the park. It looked to have come from someone's cell phone and the lightening of the sky in the background suggested flames. "Only minutes after this footage was shot, dozens upon dozens of vehicles converged on the park. Among them were police cars, fire trucks, ambulances, and government issue SUVs. Was this some alien space craft's crash landing site or is the government hiding something from us? Stay tuned to Channel Six Action News for continuing coverage on the situation."

Astrid muted the TV. She didn't want to hear the reporter spew lies any further. It was bad enough watching, knowing that the helicarrier had crashed in Central Park while Thor had been rescuing her from Loki. If he hadn't felt the need to save her, would he have been able to save his fellow Avengers? How many people had died in that crash because she'd been stupid enough to attract his attention?

He'd brought her here to her apartment, telling her that he couldn't take her with him. She didn't have the proper access or clearance and he wasn't going to risk getting Director Fury upset with him. Something told her that his efforts in that arena were for naught. And she could only imagine what had happened to the people on the helicarrier. Maybe if she'd deciphered the meaning of the circle sooner, she'd have been able to prevent this.

A few images of faces she knew well flashed across the screen. The first one was her boss, Tony Stark. Iron Man. Someone had given the station different footage, this time of Iron Man battling planes around the helicarrier. She could see the flash of red and gold that was his suit as he dipped and dove and rose. Planes followed, firing on him. He spun and rose higher to avoid the fire. Turned his own weapons on the planes and sent them plummeting to the earth below. Another run of footage showed Thor arriving. The camera lost sight of him as he slipped below the trees.

She should turn it off. This was doing nothing but tearing her apart. She reached for the remote, lifted it with her fingertip on the button that would shut the set off. But she halted when new footage rolled. This time, she saw what looked like a large military installation. She could see some small fires burning. Walls had been blasted to rubble. The shot was far away and wide, showing a vast expanse of land that was littered with twisted hunks of metal and scorch marks. This had to be the base where her friends had been fighting. It vaguely resembled the image she'd seen in Loki's pool, though that one had been much more intact than this one.

She thumbed the mute button. "...apologize for the poor quality of the footage, but our helicopter is keeping its distance for the sake of safety." The news anchor was saying. "As you can see, there are still fires burning at this location, but most of the danger seems to have passed. As with the Central Park location, we've seen several medical choppers take off from the scene, obviously carrying those who were severely injured in what witnesses have described as a fire fight. Reports of tanks and weapon wielding men in black have come in from various sources. It is unknown at this time who is responsible for this attack. Channel Six Action News will stay with this story as it develops and..."

Astrid turned the television off, carefully setting the remote down on the table before her. That was where her friends had been. They'd been caught in that mess. A mess Loki had played some minor role in. At least, that's what the trickster had claimed. But she'd seen the great relish he'd taken in seeing people suffer. Maybe he wasn't as innocent in this as he claimed to be.

She couldn't stop herself from wondering if anyone had been seriously injured. She remembered the image he'd shown her, the one where Alex and Miri had been fighting back to back. They'd been outnumbered and in serious danger. Had that been real? Or had Loki simply shown her something he knew would quickly and easily upset her? She didn't know. She didn't know how to make contact with them. She didn't...

What if something had happened to them?

They had to be fine. A new voice in her mind insisted that this was so. She frowned and shook her head. She'd seen the kind of war zone they'd been in. And she was enough of a realist to know the risks. It was entirely possible that something horrible had happened to them. To all of them.

Nervous energy filled her, forced her to her feet. Despite the small, cramped nature of her apartment, she found space enough to pace. Back and forth. Hands clenched before her, fingers woven together so tightly that the knuckles were white. Thoughts ricocheted back and forth inside her head, leaving her mind as painfully active as the rest of her body. Images flashed across the empty space at the back of her skull, a mix of those Loki had shown her and the ones she'd seen on the television. She saw fire, heard gunshots, smelled smoke and blood. Saw faces slack in death, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Saw blood covered people and things.

God, why couldn't she turn it off? Why was she stuck with this knowledge? Why had Loki done this to her? She wanted to hurt him. If she was capable of superpowers, of doing great and amazing things, she'd hunt Loki down and destroy him. He didn't deserve to live. He thought it was perfectly acceptable to play with human beings like they were little more than toys. Dolls or tin soldiers or chess pieces to be moved about a board. She wanted so badly to destroy him the way he'd so casually and carelessly destroyed all those lives.

When she realized how dark her thoughts were turning, she knew she had to get out of her apartment. She had to go and do something. She needed information. She was too restless to properly settle down. There would be no sleep tonight. Not without Thor at her side and the knowledge that her friends had weathered this storm without problems. And the only way she was going to get one was to do something about it herself. She had to find out where everyone was.

Decision made, she headed for the door, slipping into her jacket as she went. She had no idea where to start looking, but she'd never let something like that stop her before. She'd make something up as she went along. She just needed to know. Needed to do something.

Needed to prove to herself that Loki hadn't just destroyed everything and everyone around her.

~*~*~*~*~

There was no one in the office this late at night, so the only sound to be heard was the bubbling from the large salt water aquarium that dominated the vet's office. Denver lay at her feet, head resting on his paws, eyes trained on the door that he'd seen his life long friend go through some time ago. Phoebe had no idea how long ago they'd arrived at the vet's door with two rather pissed looking S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. One of the men was outside while the other sat near the door, a book in his hand that she knew he hadn't turned a single page in since they'd gotten there. The vet had met them at the door with a stretcher and a vet tech. The woman had taken one look at Tex before she'd started issuing orders in such a brusque tone that a career military man would have been proud.

The pain killers given to her by the doctor who had patched her up had worn off and now she was a dull ache up and down one side. Despite her care, she was covered in minor cuts and scratches. And one bullet wound. It was more a graze than anything else, the nine millimeter shell having left a deep furrow in her thigh, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch and she'd not bothered to bring anything with her.

She'd live. The pain would keep her awake and sharp. She needed to be clear headed in case she needed to make any decisions. The idea that she might have to make that decision filled her with a deep sorrow. She'd had Tex and Denver since they'd been six weeks old. Just barely old enough to leave their mother. They were litter mates and brothers. They were her family. Brothers and children rolled up in one. Always that first. They served as her protectors and guardians second.

The agent by the door shifted, making a small sound. Denver lifted his head and gave a soft, inquisitive whine. He looked up at Phoebe, eyes questioning. She sighed and smiled a sad smile at him. "No, Denver. That isn't Tex. You have to be patient. They'll come tell us something soon."

She watched Denver settle back down into his original position. She hoped they'd come tell them something soon. She was going insane, sitting there with nothing to do. Leaning down, she felt fire spear up her side. Gritting her teeth, she ran a hand over Denver's head and back. He was lost without his brother. They'd never been apart before. This was going to be hard on all of them.

Phoebe righted herself, wincing as that same lance of pain hit her. After all of the fighting had been done, someone had found her and taken her to medical for treatment. She'd tried to tell them that she had to go back and get her dogs, but they hadn't listened to her. They'd insisted she needed medical attention and had dragged her off. She'd continued to make a stink about Tex all the way to the infirmary and even after. Alex had been there, allowing one of the harried nurses slap bandages on her wounds, and had volunteered to go fetch Tex and Denver for her. Phoebe had almost told the woman that her dogs wouldn't go with her, but she'd been so sincere in her request that Phoebe had given her their location. Along with a warning that the dogs might not trust her.

The doctor had been tending to her bullet wound when Alex had returned with a wheeled cart. She'd piled blankets on top of it before somehow managing to lift an injured and unhappy Tex up onto the make shift gurney. She'd covered him with more blankets to keep him warm. Denver had ridden along with his brother, carefully standing guard over his injured companion. She'd been surprised that Alex hadn't been mauled by either dog and, when asked, the woman had told Phoebe she had four older brothers. Two dogs were nothing. Phoebe had taken a moment to check on Tex, to pet him and Denver. When she'd looked up to thank Alex, the other woman had been gone.

Almost as soon as Alex had left, Maria Hill had come in to assess the situation. Phoebe had been surprised to find out that she and her superiors were well aware of her contributions during the fight and they had already contacted a vet to take care of Tex. She'd been told agents were waiting with a car to take her to the vet's clinic as soon as she was done with the medics. Before she'd left, Maria Hill had offered her thanks to Phoebe. She hadn't said for what and Phoebe hadn't bothered to ask.

That had been some time ago. And the aches and pains she'd gotten fighting HYDRA agents were starting to make themselves known. Her leg burned with dull agony and exhaustion beat at the back of her eyes. Slowly, with a faint grimace of pain, she leaned back against the wall and rested her head against it. Much against her will, her eyelids fluttered down as she slipped into a light doze.

She was only vaguely aware of Denver settling his head on her knee. It was an act meant to soothe and she loved it. If she had the energy, she'd lift her hand and pet his head. He whined softly, then the weight of his head was gone. This time when he made noise, it was a sound more of happiness than sorrow. It forced Phoebe to lift her head and pry her eyes open. Relief washed through her when she saw Tony standing over the two of them.

He'd never returned after leaving her earlier. She hadn't expected him to, even though there'd been a faint, vain hope that he would. She'd known as soon as she'd seen what was going on that he'd gone for his suit and would end up in the middle of the fight. It was just who he was. Seeing him now was both a relief and bittersweet. She could see the weariness weighing on his shoulders and his face was a mask of so many emotions. None of them were good.

She let her eyes rake him up and down. He was in worn jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. His hair was completely mussed and lines of tightness radiated out from his eyes. He was tense and upset. She offered him a tired smile and patted the bench beside her. Sighing, Tony dropped down next to her and stretched his legs out. "How bad is it?" she asked softly.

"They're still digging bodies out of the wreckage of the helicarrier. HYDRA brought it down at the same time they attacked the base. I should have stayed, but I was worried about you. Maria was kind enough to tell me where to find you." He reached out and took her hand, his fingers squeezing it gently. Phoebe couldn't help herself. She slid sideways just a touch until she could rest her head on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, Tony?" she asked him softly. She knew that he was fine physically. The armor would have protected him from any accidents. Mentally, however... That was another matter entirely.

"People I work with were nearly killed tonight and I wasn't there to help them." She wanted to ask him what he could have done in the long run, but she already knew the answer. He would have dealt with the problem as best he could. She didn't know specifics yet, so she didn't have anything detailed to add. All she could do was squeeze his hand back. Let him know she was there for him and would listen if he needed to talk. "Thor was supposed to be protecting the helicarrier. I don't know why he didn't. Fury is livid and, to be perfectly honest, I don't relish the idea of being around him for the next decade."

"Who was hurt?"

"Coulson looked like someone beat him with ten miles of bad road. I heard they found Hawkeye in a closet, bleeding like a stuck pig. And Steve actually managed to dislocate his shoulder. I think that might be a first for him." He sighed and reached up to run his hands through his hair, gently untangling his fingers from hers to do so. "Elsa was on the helicarrier. The way I heard it, Steve saved her life."

"Is she okay?" The scientist had shared lunch with Phoebe more than once during her stay on the base. She'd taken a liking to Elsa.

"I think so. I haven't got any information on anyone's condition." Tony lifted his head and looked at her. "It wouldn't take much to get it, though. I could hack a few computers to find out what you want to know."

"No. That's okay. I'll find out later." Denver decided they'd had enough time to talk amongst themselves because he chose that moment to put his muzzle down in the groove between their thighs. Tony reached out and scratched at the dog's head absently. Denver wagged his stumpy tail in response.

"How's Tex?" Tony rolled his head to look at her.

"I don't know. I haven't heard anything yet. They took him right into the back and left us here waiting." For the first time, she let the fear fill her eyes. Let him see that she was worried about her injured friend. After glancing down at Denver and seeing the complete trust in his liquid brown eyes, she turned back to Tony and sought some measure of reassurance from him. "I don't even know what's wrong with him. I just know that he got hurt protecting me."

Tony sighed and slid his arm around her shoulders, carefully pulling her closer to him. She wasn't sure if he knew about her encounters with HYDRA agents back at the base, didn't know if anyone had told him. He'd have had to find someone to talk to, to get her location. Maybe they'd told him what had happened. Maybe he did know. Maybe he didn't. Maybe it was nothing more than he was simply just as tired as she was and moving any faster required energy that neither one of them had at the moment. "This is one of the best vets in the city. And he's been told to take whatever measures needed to save Tex's life. S.H.I.E.L.D. is paying for it."

"Remind me to thank Director Fury after I've gotten some sleep." Phoebe sighed and snuggled closer to him. His hand stroked idly up and down her arm. Maybe, just maybe, she could relax and catch a few minutes of sleep. He wouldn't let her sleep through the doctor. She settled her head on his shoulder and tried to still the confusion and worry in her mind.

"How did he get hurt?" Tony asked her quietly.

"He was protecting me from a HYDRA agent," she told him. That meant sleep wasn't going to happen. He was going to ask questions until he got the answers he wanted.

"I made sure the door was locked before I left your rooms."

"Do you really think I was going to stay put and wait for you to come back? If I hadn't left my rooms when I did, you'd have been digging for my body under one of the walls that fell in," she told him and poked a finger into his ribs. He caught the hand with his own, lifted it to press a kiss against her palm.

"I'm starting to think that I should be glad no one ever listens to me," he said, voice filled with a chuckle. "Right now, I know I'm damn glad that you didn't."

Phoebe lifted her head a little bit so she could look up at him. "So you're not mad at me for disobeying you?"

"Oh, I didn't say that. You and I will discuss proper punishment for this after you've had time to rest up and gather your strength. I plan on keeping you in bed for a few weeks." As far as threats went, it wasn't at all horrible. In fact, she rather liked the sound of it. "But for now, we'll wait to see how Tex is. And then you can come home with me, where you'll climb into my bed and sleep the next three days away. The medics gave me a bottle of pills for you. You will take some and eat, too."

"Yes, sir." She gave him her own amused chuckle and settled back down against him. His arm tugged her closer, allowing him to turn toward her and press a kiss to her head.

"When I got back to the base and saw what HYDRA had done to it..." he whispered. Though his words faded away, she could hear the emotions and the unspoken finish to the sentence. He lapsed into silence and she took it to mean he was going to let her rest. She had just drifted into that place between waking and sleep when she heard the door swish open and closed.

She opened her eyes to find the vet staring at her. He looked tired, but there was a faint smile on his face. "Miss Sinclair?"

"Yes?" She straightened up, though Tony didn't let her escape the comfort of his arm around her shoulders. "How's Tex?"

"He's going to be fine. It will take him a few days to recover his strength because he lost a lot of blood, but he'll recover. We'll keep an eye on him tonight, keep him comfortable. You can come back tomorrow and visit him. And bring Denver with, too. Seeing his brother will help him recover faster. Now go home and get some rest. You look as if you can use it."

~*~*~*~*~

Alex muttered a curse and kicked the fist sized piece of rubble under foot into a corner before turning to take another swing at the much abused heavy bag. Her hands hurt like hell, but she didn't care. Come the morning, her knuckles would be swollen and bruised. The cuts and scrapes would be open, might even ooze a little. Big fucking deal. She just wanted to pound the bag until either her hands broke or the bag broke. Maybe by then, the anger would be gone and she'd be able to find a few hour's sleep. Respite from the things running through her head. A moment away from everything. A chance to pretend that she hadn't seen the things she'd seen.

As soon as she'd finished her mission and she'd given Fury a quick oral report, she'd come back to what was left of the base and made her way toward the gym. Part of it had been in ruins, but she'd been able to clear a pathway to a safe enough looking corner and set up the heavy bag so that she could go after it. So that she could pretend each and every punch she made was a HYDRA agent. She imagined she was punching an enemy's face, beating that face to a pulp over and over and over again until it was little more than a bloody mess.

No matter how hard she punched the bag, no matter how much she sweat and hurt and bled, she couldn't get the memory of Clint's limp body from her mind. Couldn't erase the way blood had stained his clothes. Couldn't forget how pale and still he'd been.

Couldn't stop cursing herself a fool for ever pushing him away.

She heard the distinctive clatter of concrete rubble knocking together, letting her know that someone had entered the gym. She ignored it, put more strength behind her punches. There was silence for a few moments, only the thump thump thump of her fists connecting with the bag. "Alex?" Miri's voice, soft and tentative. Very unlike the other woman. "Alex, are you okay?"

She snorted. Was she okay? Her entire world had just come crumbling down around her head. "I'm fucking peachy," she shot back.

"Alex--"

"No, Miri. I'm fucking peachy. Why wouldn't I be? I just spent hours digging friends and coworkers out of what used to be a floating fortress. I saw more dead bodies today than I've ever seen in my life. People I went through training with. People who are real agents and who deserve to be here. People like..." Alex choked off the last words and gave her attention back to the heavy bag. "See? Fucking peachy. Move on. Nothing to see here."

"Oh my god, Alex! Get your head out of your ass and just shut the fuck up! Are you really going to feed me that line?"

Miri's voice and the deep emotions in it brought her fists to a halt. Alex turned to regard her friend. Despite the distance and the dim lights, she could see the sorrow in Miri's eyes. Huffing out a breath, Alex crossed her arms over her chest. "Who pissed in your Post Toasties?"

Miri rolled her eyes with the question. "Like you give a shit. You're too busy with your own god damn drama to notice anything else around you anyway!"

Her own shit? Really? Did Miri really think that? "Right. Because I'm shallow like that."

Miri closed the distance between them, stepping closer so that she could pin Alex with her glare. "And what was that just now? All I heard in your entire statement is 'Oh woe is poor little Alex' because its all about her. Did it occur to you that you aren't the only one that's hurting right now?"

Miri really thought she was shallow. "And just how the hell am I supposed to know anything of the sort when you don't tell me a god damned thing?"

Miri sighed and shook her head. "Its not just about you and me, Alex! For fuck's sake Do you have any idea how many people got--"

Alex cut into her speech before Miri could finish. "I was there, Miri. I saw it with my own eyes."

"And still its all about you," Miri snapped. "Elsa, Steve Rogers, Kara Ferguson, Peter Linden, Jerry Turner... Coulson... None of them fucking matter, right? None of them matter to you at all, do they?"

"I don't believe you. We've been friends for how long? Do you really think that I'm that shallow? Do you really think I'd put myself before everyone else?" she demanded, her mind ticking over everything Miri had just said. She'd brought Coulson up on person. Which made those things she'd thought earlier come screaming back into her mind. "And where does Coulson factor into all of this, Miri?"

Miri closed down, all emotion leaving her face. "It doesn't matter,"

Right. "Well, obviously it does. Because you're the one who brought him up. So let's stop talking about me. I'm not the center of anyone's universe. Let's talk about Coulson."

Miri shot her a glare. "Shut up, Alex."

Oh, yes. She'd hit a sore spot there. "No. You brought him up. So talk."

The glare became something darker. "Shut. Up. Alex."

There was no way Alex was letting this go now. There had been too many things that had seemed odd about those two. Now it was actually starting to make sense. Alex needed to know for sure. There was only one way to find out. "The way you're acting... Hmmm. Maybe I should just run right out and get him that hooker I've been talking about. Maybe that'll shake things up. Liven this place up a bit. Because its not like you really care about him or anything." Alex paused and gave Miri a look. "Is it?"

A blush stained her friend's cheeks and a fire burst into life in her eyes. "Would you stop with the fucking hookers!? He doesn't need a fucking hooker!" Miri snarled. "He's fucking me!"

Alex shot her a look. "Yeah. I thought something was going on between you two, but I've told myself time and again that you'd never have anything to do with Coulson. And if you did, you'd have told me about it. Thanks for trusting me, Miri. Nice to know I'm good enough to lie to," Alex spat. "You love him?"

Miri said nothing, but she didn't need to. Alex could see it in her face. "So why are you sitting here listening to me whine? Why aren't you with him?"

"Because... because its not... I can't. That's not how this works." There was frustration and resignation in Miri's voice. Yeah. She loved Coulson. Strange as that seemed. So why was Miri here with her?

"Says who?" Alex shook her head. "Based on the fear in your eyes and voice, that's exactly how it works." God above, the knowledge hurt. How was it fair that Miri, her best friend and most trusted confidant, hadn't ever told her about this? How fair was it that she had someone to call her own and Alex had... Yeah. Alex had shit.

Miri goggled at her. "Are you really that stupid?" Wow. That hurt. Did she really believe that? "I'm fucking my superior officer. That doesn't fly. Even at S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm not going to cost both of us our careers because--"

Alex lifted a hand and cut her off, shooting a glare at Miri. "Yes. I guess I am really that stupid because I've always believed that love is more important than anything else. Call me stupid and naive, but there it is." She shrugged as if indifferent, though she heard a voice screaming in her head the entire time about what a fucking hypocrite she was. "So you're fucking your superior. Big deal. Who do you think will really believe that? I'd be willing to bet that everyone would be more likely to believe that Barton was giving him blow jobs under his desk."

"God, you're stupid. What happens when everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. finds out? They'll think that he played favorites with me. That I slept my way to the top. They'll think that's how I got where I am. They'll question everything I've done. Everything Phil told them." Miri shook her head at Alex. "They find out, they'll ignore his orders next time. Maybe in the field, where it will end up getting someone killed. I'm... I'm not risking that!"

Chicken shit. Alex frowned at her and waved a hand. "Fine. Don't go sit with him. Whatever. But don't sit here and take your shit out on me because you can't do anything else."

Miri shot her a look. "You mean like you have been?"

"And just what else am I supposed to be doing, Miri?" Alex dared her to go there. She just dared her.

The smile the other woman gave her wasn't very nice. "Oh, how about that shit you just fed me?"

She'd gone there. Alex could play dumb with the best of them. Hadn't she been lying to her family for ten years? "Which shit would that be?"

"Why aren't you down there holding Barton's fucking hand?"

Because he hated her guts and sure as shit wouldn't want to wake up to her worried expression. Alex faked a disinterested look. "Because I don't love him."

"I smell bullshit," Miri replied.

"God's truth." Alex lifted a hand and held it up as if she was taking an oath. "Can't stand the man."

The redhead cocked a brow at her. "Then why'd you let him fuck you?"

Alex waved a hand at Miri, a dismissive gesture. "Maybe that was because I was drunk. Its been known to happen."

"Not to you. Don't feed me that shit, Alex. I know you almost as well as your mother does," Miri shot at her. "There's a reason you're wound up this tight and it sure as fuck isn't our friends."

Alex gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm always wound this tight. You've always said so. Why should you think this is any different?"

Miri stared at her, hard, for a good minute or two. Almost as if she was looking for something. Alex stared back, gave her best blank face. Miri just smiled. "Because all that fear and love bullshit you said you saw on me is mirrored right back. At least I have a reason for being emotionally stunted!"

Her glare could have melted glaciers. But it did nothing to Miri. "I am not emotionally stunted. And I am not in love with Barton."

"Oh, more bullshit." Miri didn't know the half of it. But Alex could still see his face when he'd fallen out of the closet. She could still smell the blood on him. She could still remember it all so clearly. She couldn't let him in. She just... couldn't.

"I don't," she declared, fighting to keep the quiver of fear from her voice. "I can't. Because I can't do that again."

"Do what again?" Miri stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had. But there was no way she was going to live through it all over again.

"I'm not going to go through the same shit I went through with my first partner. Never again. I can't and there's nothing you or anyone can do to make me."

"Alex... What the fuck are you talking about?"

She wasn't going to do it. There was no way. It had nearly killed her last time. With Clint, if anything... No. She wasn't doing it. "When was the last time I went on a date, Miri? When was the last time you saw me go out with anyone?"

Her friend boggled at the change of topic. "I don't know, Alex. But I'm pretty sure that means shit around here."

Her mind was spinning back, to the last time she'd seen him. There'd ben so much blood. She wasn't even really aware of what she was saying anymore. "I was stupid. Still wet behind the ears. Stevenson and I... We were a couple, Miri. We... When he was killed..." Alex trailed off, mind firmly caught in the past. She didn't even see Miri anymore. "I can't do it again. It almost killed me last time."

Miri stared at her. "So because of something that happened a decade ago, you're digging your heels in and not doing anything with someone that everyone can see you're in love with? That's... That's just fucking brilliant, Alex."

She saw his eyes, so empty and cold. "For fuck's sake, Miri! I got him killed! It was my fault."

Miri regarded her with something like contempt. "I seriously doubt that. And even if it was, you aren't some fresh off the truck new recruit anymore. And neither's Barton. He's a fucking Avenger! He can handle himself. He's probably the safest choice you've got around here!"

She just didn't get it. Alex shook her head, tried to push the memories back. Mitch Stevenson. Clint Barton. Faces and circumstances blurred together. Alex couldn't do it. She'd lost one of them. She couldn't survive losing the other. "Fine. I'm not fresh off the turnip truck and he's an Avenger. Fucking peachy. My panties are all aflame with the possibilities. But I hardly think I'm going to take relationship advice from you when you're being as stubborn and dickheaded about Coulson as you claim I'm being about Barton."

The other woman gave a groan of frustration. "You don't understand. We... Its not like that!"

"Very well. It isn't like that." Alex snorted again. "And even if I was willing to take the chance on Barton, I think that ship's sailed. I don't think he gives a flying fuck if I live or die. I've been a right bitch to him."

"Yeah, well. You can find out when he's up and limping again."

Alex shrugged. "Maybe."

"Yeah, maybe. Right. I'm hearing a lot of that lately."

"I left him in the middle of the night. Threw him out when he came for an explanation. He deserves better than that and he deserves better than I can give him." God, it hurt her heart to say that. But it was truth.

Miri goggled at her, as if she wasn't sure she'd just heard Alex correctly. "And he doesn't get a say in that, right?"

Alex narrowed her gaze on Miri. "Since when are you so concerned about my love life, Miri? Why are you so fired up about this?"

Miri threw her fists on her hips. "Because you're fucking throwing away something I would kill to have and fucking can't! That's why!"

"So you're going to sit there and tell me that you and Coulson are just fucking? There's nothing more there? Nothing at all?"

"I didn't say that," Miri snarled at her. "I said you were throwing something away that I'd kill for. I'd kill for the chance to not sneak around. To have something more than... than cheap hotel rooms and broom closets. I can't have that. But you can! You can have that and more if you'd stop being such a fucking coward and just admit you love him! Christ, Alex! Just own up to it and--"

Miri never got to finish her sentence. Rage blinded Alex and saw her reacting instead of thinking. She swung her arm up, her fist catching Miri on the chin and staggering her back a step or two. Miri gaped at her, utterly amazed by the move, before launching herself forward. She slammed into Alex and drove her backward into the heavy bag.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs, left her gasping and dazed. Miri took her own swing, fist connecting sharply with Alex's chin. She closed the distance, made to pull Alex into a headlock in the hopes of getting her to submit. Alex swept a leg at Miri, took her feet out from under her. The redhead went down, but she grabbed hold of Alex's clothes at the last minute and pulled her down with her.

They landed hard, Alex on top until Miri rolled them and pinned Alex to the mats. It didn't take much effort to bring her legs up and wrap them around Miri's body but before she could roll them and pin Miri down, the other woman broke the hold and threw herself off of Alex. Irrationally angry, she brought herself to her feet to find that Miri was ready for her. Alex swung anyway. Took a punch to the gut. The jab left her winded and doubled over. Miri moved in and took hold of Alex by the arm. She found herself airborne a second later.

When she hit the mats, it was to find that Miri was standing over her, Glock bare in her hand and pointed at Alex's head. There were tears glimmering in her eyes and her finger was heavy on the trigger. "Stay down, Alex. For the love of god, please. Just stay there." She paused and shook her head. "I've lost everything today. Don't make me add your name to the list."

Alex just laid there and stared up into the barrel of Miri's gun. She was lost in memory, recalling another fight. She could hear Natasha in her head, the woman's dispassionate voice echoing loudly in her head. "Grant was needed elsewhere. You... You just weren't as good as I was. The only reason you were brought into S.H.I.E.L.D. and made an agent is because Fury liked your uncle."

Natasha had kicked her ass. Miri had kicked her ass. Painful as it was to admit, Natasha had been right. Alex didn't belong here. She was a pale shadow of the other two women. And if her Uncle Alex had been an agent before her, she was a pale shadow of him, too. What was she if she wasn't an agent? It had been her life for so long... Maybe she should move and see if Miri would pull the trigger.

Would anyone even miss her?

Loud clapping brought her out of her thoughts. Both she and Miri turned to find Director Fury standing only a few feet away, watching them with that one glittering eye of his. She heard Miri holster the weapon and looked back to find that she was holding a hand down in an offer to help Alex up. She ignored it and rolled to her feet easily. "Wonderful show, ladies. What do you do for an encore?"

"Nothing," Alex said, heading toward the exit. "I was just leaving, sir."

"Not so fast, Quinn. I've got a mission for both of you." His words brought Alex to a halt. She turned and faced the director, waiting for him to enlighten her.

"A mission, sir?" Miri questioned. She took a couple steps closer to Alex and Fury.

"Yes. After some thorough interrogation, Agent Romanova has gotten a location from one of the captured HYDRA agents. We know where their nest is and we're going to strike. Now. While they're still in confusion." The smile Fury gave them was positively evil.

"How does this involve us, sir?" Miri asked.

"I want you to lead the mission, Grant. You will have access to the weapons cache and a small team to back you up." Alex wasn't surprised that he would put Miri in charge. And any other time, she'd have been perfectly okay with it. But with Tasha's words so fresh in her head, the appointment hurt like it never had before. She hid her emotions behind a bland face. "Quinn is going along as your second in command. You do what you have to do to make those mother fuckers pay for what they did tonight. Take prisoners if you can. If not..." The director broke off to shrug. Too bad, so sad.

Then he leveled a look on them. "But I will tell you this right here. Right now. If you get your asses in a sling and someone starts questioning what you were doing, I will personally disavow any knowledge of the operation. You will be on your own. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Miri nodded.

Fury eyed them for a few more minutes, then nodded his head. "I know this is personal for both of you. That's why I'm handing this mission to you. I trust you to do what needs to be done. The only stipulation I have on this is that you take Thor and Captain Rogers with you."

"I won't be held responsible for what happens to them if they get in my way, sir," Miri told Fury with a voice as cold as the arctic.

"Then see that they don't get in your way, Grant." He let his gaze shift between them. "Get cleaned up. Get changed. Get geared up. Then come see me in my office. I'll give you the location of the nest. I want you gone in half an hour. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they chimed in together. Fury looked at them again, then turned and stalked out. Miri shifted her attention to where Alex stood. For a moment, it looked like Miri wanted to say something to her. For a moment, it looked like she might apologize for what had just happened. For a moment, Alex considered letting her.

Fuck it. What did it matter? After all of this was said and done, she had some serious thinking to do. She didn't wait to see if Miri said anything. She just turned and stalked away.