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marysuevirus2012-01-15 11:27 pm
ladydeathfaerie) wrote in marysuevirus2012-01-15 11:27 pm
The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!
Title: The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!
Chapter Twenty Two: Exchange
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,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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
It was the headache that woke him, a dull throb that started at the back of his skull and climbed slowly upward until it came to rest right behind his eyes. He'd had enough concussions in his life to know the signs. Once the pain in his head made itself known, other aches jumped up to join in the fray.
There were the small ones that meant scratches and scrapes. A few that pulled when he shifted, suggesting bruising. A sharp stab of pain lancing through his chest meant that he'd probably cracked or broken some ribs. And, finally, there was a pulsing shaft of dimmed agony in his leg. He couldn't for the life of him remember how that one had come to be.
As he lay there, cataloguing the various sore spots on his body, he became aware of a soft beeping noise. The slight incline at which he lay. The tight pull of tape against his skin. The slightly muddled sensation that wrapped itself around his brain. The sharp sting of antiseptic that tickled his nose. He was in a hospital room. God, he hated hospitals. Whatever had happened, it had to have been a doozy. Just what the hell had he been doing to warrant a stay in a hospital bed? Even though his brain told him it was going to be difficult in the matter, he ordered it to be quiet and told himself to think.
The layers of cotton peeled away slowly. That could be blamed on the pain killers they were no doubt pumping into him. He felt he must be floating on the edge of nothing and everything given the way he could feel his body and yet still have problems accessing what had happened. It didn't help that it felt as if someone was pounding on his skull with a sledge hammer. That just meant he had to force the issue, push harder for the answers.
The first thing that came to him was HYDRA and that was all it took. Just thinking of the word brought memories rushing back so quickly that it was startling. He let them come, allowed them to fill his head until it seemed that his skull would shatter with the vast amount of information he recalled. And then he decided that maybe he didn't want to remember it all. Certainly not in such vivid detail.
They'd been under attack. Somehow, HYDRA had discovered the location of the helicarrier and they'd launched an assault on the floating fortress. Coulson had given him the okay to grab whatever weaponry he could find and use it to take down every last one of their enemy he could. And that was precisely what he'd done. Until an enemy agent had snuck up on him. Something that shouldn't have happened. Granted, his position had been kind of shitty and he'd been more or less exposed. But his senses were better than that. He should have known and he hadn't.
He'd been in the process of turning when the other man had fired. Ah. That explained the pain in his thigh. He must have been hit by a bullet. His had hit, too. He knew that much. He never missed and he'd been turned far enough to know that he'd hit the guy who'd shot him. Whether it was a killing blow or a wounding blow was another matter. But he knew that the man had been hit. The problem was that in rolling to shoot the man, he'd sent himself over the edge of the catwalk. The drop to the floor had been long and it should have killed him. Should have broken his spine in two and crushed his skull. He couldn't say why it hadn't. He honestly didn't know. Not that he wasn't grateful. It was shit that shouldn't have happened, though.
He should have been more on the ball than that. He should have sensed the other man coming and he should have shot him before the guy had ever gotten a single round off. What the fuck had he been thinking that he hadn't been paying attention to his flank like that?
Oh. Right. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he'd been thinking about Alex.
As if thinking about her was enough to see his senses kick into high gear, he caught the faint scent of something that was both earthy and feminine. It prompted him to pry his eyes open, no small feat, and search the room.
He was right. Hospital room. More than that, though, it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. Which told him a whole lot. The interior was done in a pale blue that wasn't too hard to look at. There were a few pictures hung on the wall, mostly watercolors that he didn't bother studying. A bathroom in one corner. A minuscule closet that no doubt held absolutely nothing in it on the wall with the bathroom. Observation windows high up, near the ceiling. Along with the light over his bed, the monitor next to it helped provide lights in the dimmed room. But the dimness couldn't hide the bright red head that lounged near the door. He licked his lips and opened his mouth.
"She isn't here, Clint. She isn't coming." Natasha's words were harsh and sharp. Tainted with the bitterness of her own fear.
"Not if you're going to stand guard at the door and glower at everyone," he managed to reply, though his voice came out in a rasp and his throat felt dry as the desert. His words saw Natasha slinking forward into the small circle of illumination that surrounded his bed. "How long have I been out?"
"A couple of days. You'd lost a good deal of blood." Despite the chill in her voice, he thought he saw something soft there in her eyes. Of course, that could be remnants of the drugs playing tricks on him. "Chances are good they wouldn't have found you, had you not bled everywhere."
He remembered finding himself conscious just moments before the helicarrier began listing so deeply to one side that everything went sliding. He even went sliding. He'd ended up slamming into a wall next to a closet. Upon realizing that the helicarrier was going to crash, he'd decided that he'd rather hide in a closet than be crushed by any falling debris. That way, he could have an open casket service after they found his body. It had taken everything in him to climb to his feet and open the door, to duck into the small service closet when he'd wanted to meet whatever was coming with his head up and a weapon trained on it.
His last thoughts before the air ship had hit ground must have been of Alex because he could swear he'd heard her voice demanding a medical team. And someone who'd sounded suspiciously like Thor trying to convince her to calm down. That had to have been a dream because the cold hearted bitch cared nothing for him. That's what she'd told him. He'd gotten a different sense off of her, but she was stubborn and pig-headed. She wasn't about to listen to him.
The fact that he was thinking about her must have showed on his face because a disgusted noise came from Tasha's throat. When he looked at her, she was frowning. "You deserve better than her, Clint," she told him without prompting.
"Isn't that for me to decide?" he asked her. The look she shot him told him she didn't think so. Clint sighed and lifted the arm that wasn't hooked up to a needle and tubes so that he could rake his hand through his hair. "I appreciate that you care, Tasha. But who I choose to sleep with is exactly that. My choice."
"I don't think you have to worry about it anymore," she said softly. He didn't like the look on her face at all.
Damn. He'd been afraid of that. "What did you do?"
"I simply told her that I would hurt her if she fucked with you again." Before he could say anything else to her about Alex and the fact that his problems with her were just that, she reached out and touched his arm. Gently. "I have to go. Feel better."
He'd barely processed the words before she was out the door.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Clint put his head back and stared up at the ceiling. In doing so, he swore he saw a flash of pale skin and a swirl of black hair at one of the observation windows. Alex? Checking up on him? It seemed incongruous after their last encounter. And, to be fair, he couldn't be sure if he she'd really been there or if he was seeing things.
Unfortunately, just the thought of her watching from above made his heart beat a little faster. Made his gut clench with a dizzying mix of emotions. He was probably a masochistic son of a bitch, but he really hoped that he'd seen her up there. Because that meant that she felt something. For him. Despite her claims that their night together had been nothing more than sex.
If he was a true masochist, he'd never have let her push him from her life. He'd have found a way to get her to tell him whatever it was that she was hiding. He'd seen it in her eyes that day. There'd been something there. And she'd almost told him. It had been on the tip of her tongue. Then she'd frozen and turned into bitchzilla and she'd kicked him out without a single explanation. God, why did he have to pick difficult women to fall for?
Well. Wasn't that revelation a kick in the head? He should have known it would happen. Things like that were inevitable where he was concerned. Loved easy. Lost hard. No middle ground for him. He knew, deep in the back of his mind, that he loved her. Maybe he had since their first encounter all those years ago. He couldn't be sure about just when it had happened. But it had happened. It was damned inconvenient and yet, despite everything that had gone between them, he wouldn't change it for anything. There was something about the woman that, while it drove him insane, drew him to her like a moth to a flame.
Alex was the reason he'd crawled into that damned closet. She was why he'd hidden himself away instead of meeting death head on, a sneer on his face and a gun or a bow in his hand. Because he wanted to see her again. Damn it all to hell, he wanted to find a way to work this thing out between them and pick up right where they'd left off. The craziness that was her family, which he'd only had a brief taste of, was as enticing as she was.
Her mother welcoming him into the family without question or pause had been kind of scary. And kind of wonderful. Alex had been so lost and confused that night. He'd tried to help and had only made things worse for her. But when her mother had interpreted his words to mean a proposal and she'd never once doubted it, Clint had felt wanted and needed and welcome. It had been kind of heady. And he'd wanted it.
That thought stopped him cold but he had no time to give it serious consideration. There was a knock at his door, then the panel swung open and Tony Stark walked into his room. He watched as the man let his gaze travel around the four walls, taking in the various aspects of its boring hospital uniformity. It gave Clint an opportunity to really study the man. Despite the affected guise of negligence, there was a weight that hung on his shoulders. As much as he wanted to seem as if none of this had touched him, it was obvious that he was still attempting to come to terms with everything. And he didn't seem to be in any hurry to strike up a conversation. That meant Clint would have to go first. "What brings you here, Tony? Slumming?"
"I was in the neighborhood. I thought I'd stop by. Its good to see you awake and not bleeding." Stark crossed to the single chair and kind of threw himself into it. His posture screamed with equal parts attention and slouch, something Clint had discovered that Tony had perfected.
"Its good to be awake and not bleeding." His reply was met with silence, which was unlike the other man. Stark was never afraid to give his opinion to others, even when he knew they didn't want it. Clint would have to cut to the chase. "So what happened? How bad was it?"
"HYDRA attacked the helicarrier and the base in a coordinated assault that left far too many people injured or dead." The seriousness in Stark's voice was frightening. Clint started at the news. The base had been hit, too? It was worse than he'd originally thought. The other man focused his gaze on Clint and shook his head. "The helicarrier is nothing more than technological wreckage. The base is a giant mess of shattered walls and rubble. Teams of searchers are still digging bodies out of both of them."
"How many dead? How many injured?"
"Too many. Loki was in on it. We're sure that's how HYDRA found both locations." He watched as Tony leaned forward and put his head in hands, elbows digging into his knees.
Loki? Working with HYDRA? There were so many things wrong with that picture. How was it even possible that... Clint shook his head and muttered a few choice words under his breath. Tony looked up at him, face masked with mild curiosity. Clint knew better. Tony was worse than any old busy body. "The staff. That's how he found them both. The two pieces of the staff that we conveniently stored on the carrier and at the base. Sneaky bastard."
"He does have this talent," Tony replied then fell silent.
"Tell me," Clint urged finally. Stark looked up at him. "How many people survived the carrier's crash?"
"I don't know. A few dozen? Fury sent two teams in to dig out survivors. Agent Quinn's team found Steve and Dr. Jones. He dislocated his shoulder. Dr. Jones broke her arm. Quinn's team also found you. How the hell did you end up in a closet?"
Clint just gave Tony a smug look that said he wasn't telling. At the same time, his mind was latched on to the fact that Alex had found him. He hadn't imagined that bit after all. He had heard her voice. She had been there. And she'd been... upset. Much against his better judgement, that knowledge warmed his heart in ways he didn't really want to think about. Then his brain came back round to what they were supposed to be discussing. "Coulson?"
The pause that came told him more than he wanted to know. "They don't know if he'll ever wake up," Tony admitted softly. Clint swore under his breath. Fucking HYDRA.
"What about the base?"
"There's so much damage, it could be the ruins of some long lost civilization. I don't have numbers."
"Did anyone get hurt?"
Tony gave him a look that said that was a stupid question. But he sighed and answered it anyway. "I only know of a few personally. Phoebe was grazed with a bullet. One of her dogs was kicked and had to go to the vet. Off the top of my head, I can't think of anyone else who was seriously injured. Then again, I was all over the place during the fight." Those words saw a sense of relief washing through him and Clint decided he wasn't going to look too deeply at the reasons for that. Not right now.
"And HYDRA?"
"Fury already sent a team in to clear out the nest." There was something in Tony's voice. It was just begging Clint to ask the next logical question. Tony was waiting for him to do so.
"Who was on it?" Clint wasn't one to disappoint.
"Cap and Thor. Alex and Miri. Word has it that they made sure none of the HYDRA agents left that place alive." There was smugness in Tony's voice that Clint didn't really like. And, again, he wasn't about to wonder too deeply about the sense of perverse satisfaction that washed through him at the news that Alex had sought revenge for him. Because something inside of him was sure that was exactly what she'd done. "Did you know that Steve's got himself a woman?"
Those words saw Clint blinking up at Tony in disbelief. Quiet, serious, red, white, and blue Steve? With a girl? "Oh, yeah? Who?"
"Elsa," Tony said, then leaned back in the chair. With the serious stuff gone over, the man was free to relax and be himself. No one had ever accused Tony of being overly serious about shit and the sudden shift in his attitude was proof. Not that the man couldn't be serious. He just liked it when he didn't have to be.
"No way! Meek, nerdy Dr. Elsa Jones?" Wow. That was a shock.
"Yes. Meek, nerdy Dr. Elsa Jones has got the hots for Cap. And he's got the hots right back. Apparently, the two have been doing some scientific research alone together. Rumor has it he risked his life to save hers when the helicarrier was dropping like a stone in water. When the doctor released her from the hospital, good old Steve volunteered to go home with her and keep an eye on her."
"Man, how did I miss this?"
"Neither one of them is really out in the open about their feelings. And you know how old fashioned Steve is." Clint nodded his head. The rest of the Avengers had long ago bet on just when Captain America, the country's most prime specimen of virile masculinity, would lose his virginity. They'd all figured, when he did, that it would be with someone who had experience. Like the hooker Tony kept threatening to hire for him. They should have known that all it would take was another old fashioned virgin. "Oh, yeah. It appears Coulson is dating, too."
"What?" Clint had to have heard him wrong. He just had to have. Because it sounded an awful lot like Tony had said Agent Phil Coulson, the most uptight person Clint had ever met, was seeing a woman. "So... God, I can't even picture this. Are you sure? Who is he dating? And are they--"
Tony's eyebrow lifted at that. "Having sex? It appears so. The rumor mill says he's going out with Agent Grant."
"With Miri? Alex's friend? She's hot. What's she doing with him?" Clint simply could not wrap his mind around it. They were talking about Coulson. The man who barely broke a smile at the best of times. He was dating and having sex with Alex's best friend? Had the world gone barking mad?
"Anything she wants to, I would think," Tony replied with a smirk. This was news. Naturally, they knew about Thor's thing for Astrid. The big blonde Viking had made his feelings for the woman known on more than one occasion. And Tony had been chasing Phoebe almost from the get go. This news about Steve and Coulson was utterly shocking.
When he came out of his thoughts, it was to find Tony smirking at him knowingly. That couldn't be anything good. "What?"
Tony grinned at him, the smugness radiating off him in heavy waves. As if he'd bathed in it. "So... You and Alex? What's all that about?"
Well... shit. There went the neighborhood.
~*~*~*~*~
She ignored the slight pain that crept around her abdomen as she bent over the microscope and continued peering at the slide she'd prepared not too long ago. For the most part, the pain killers the doctor had prescribed for her kept the ache in her ribs to a tolerable level. But spending time locked away in her private lab, hunched over her ancient equipment, probably wasn't doing her any favors. She knew that she should be reclining on the couch watching the mindlessness of television or propped up in bed with a good book while her ribs worked on knitting themselves back together. The problem with that was she got bored when her mind wasn't going ninety miles a minute on anything and everything scientific. She'd managed all of ten hours in bed before she'd had enough.
After asking Steve to make her something to eat, she'd snuck from her bed and hidden herself away in the lab. It was absolute bliss to be surrounded by her equipment, a familiar friend that she knew would never look at her crossly and tell her to take it easy.
Sighing, she straightened and absently rubbed at the tenderness that had wrapped itself around her torso like a constrictor coiling itself around its prey. The meds were wearing off. Which meant Steve would come looking for her to give her the next dose. He was almost acting the way she'd often wished her mother would act whenever she'd felt a little under the weather. Her mother had never been one for showing emotions of any kind beyond disdain. Now that she was used to the lack of motherly affection, Steve's almost obsessive desire to keep her coddled, while endearing on some level, was driving her up the damn wall.
Well, there went her science-gasm. Elsa gave a forlorn look at the microscope, then hobbled over to the big wing back chair that she'd inherited from her grandfather. With a great deal of relief, and so very slowly, she lowered herself into the seat and worked at unclenching tightened muscles. The effort to remain standing was taking its toll and she knew that when she finally laid down to sleep that night, it would be to the great relief of her battered rib cage.
Her gaze drifted to the cast that encased her right arm. It was starting to ache, letting her know that she'd had it lower than her heart for too long. The problem with that was that sitting with it raised was annoying and, quite frankly, it made her look stupid. Logic told her that the cast would likely remain on for at least six weeks. The ribs would heal in about the same amount of time, assuming she didn't push herself and re-injure them. She just hated sitting around and doing nothing.
She'd always been one to keep active, to always keep her body and mind moving. She'd spent a good deal of time outside when she'd been younger, trying to perfect experiments on things she found in the yard surrounding her family's home. When she hadn't been doing those experiments, or walking around and discovering everything, she'd had her nose buried in one science journal or another. While she still enjoyed a good book, be it a science journal or simply a trashy bodice ripper, she couldn't confine herself to her bed for long periods of time. Experiments were like air to her. She needed them to exist the way she needed to breathe air.
The pain receded from her ribs. Not enough to allow her ease of movement, but enough to allow her to get back to work. It took a bit of work to push herself up from the chair, making her wish she had two working arms. Then she hobbled over to the table to pick up where she'd left off. Except she needed a book off one of the shelves to reference for this part of her experiment. Sighing, she turned toward the ceiling to floor book cases behind her and went searching for the text in question. Her eyes skimmed the spines with practiced ease, automatically reading the titles as she went by them. Finally, her gaze landed on the book she needed and she found herself muttering a curse under her breath. Of course the volume she needed was on the top shelf.
It hurt to reach up. She knew it did. She'd tried it once or twice. This whole experiment thing was turning out to be a huge pain in her ass. Fortunately, she had a stool she could drag over and stand on in an attempt to reach her book without having to stretch too far. Except bending was a problem. Muttering a curse, she kicked the stool across the floor to where she needed it, then climbed up. Still not quite tall enough. Damn it. Against her better judgement, she stretched and reached.
Pain shot through her side and saw her stumbling off the stool. Well, she was going to look stupid when she crashed to the floor and broke her other arm. Except her good arm and the floor never got up close and personal with one another. A pair of strong arms caught her as gently as they could and pulled her in next to a chest she was becoming quite familiar with. Glancing up at Steve's face, she found that his jaw was clenched. Probably not a good time to ask him to put her down. So she remained silent and allowed him to carry her from the lab.
She was surprised that he didn't carry her straight to the bedroom and deposit her in bed. Instead, he carried her out to the dining room and carefully set her into one of the finely carved oak chairs that sat around the table. There was a plate awaiting her, loaded with a thickly cut pork chop that had been seasoned and seared perfectly, a small mound of roasted red potatoes, and a decent helping of spinach salad. A matching plate, filled with larger amounts of the same foods, rested directly across from her own. She watched as he took his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at her.
Oh, goodness. He was angry. Maybe she could head this off at the pass. "Steve, let me explain--"
The look her shot her way let her know that he wasn't going to take any of her excuses. She fell silent and sat back in the chair. If she was being honest with herself, it felt good to rest. Her side ached more fiercely with every passing second. A definite sign that the pain killers were wearing off. "You're supposed to be resting, Elsa. You know, taking it easy. So that your ribs have a chance to heal properly. You're not supposed to be reaching for things on the top shelf of a book case while doing experiments that obviously do not need doing until much later. Do you know how pale you are right now?"
She blinked at him. "I'm pale?" That was news.
"I didn't think so." He pushed his chair back and rose, stalking off toward the kitchen. She watched him go, wondering who had pissed in his Cheerios. A few moments later, she heard the distinctive rattle of a pill bottle. That was followed by the sink running. When Steve returned, he was carrying the pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Both the pain killers and the glass were set down before her with more force than strictly necessary. "Take those."
"I'm not a child, Steve," she told him softly as he returned to his seat. The words, spoken so softly and with such conviction, saw his blue eyes going wide, losing some of their anger.
"I never thought or said you were," he replied carefully.
"You didn't have to. Your actions speak loud and clear for you." She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, but it was uncomfortable with the cast and her ribs just plain didn't like it. She settled for glaring at him across the distance that stretched between them. "You might not realize this, but I do have some basic knowledge of anatomy. And I do know that rest generally helps speed the recovery process. However, I cannot lie about in bed all day. That isn't good for the muscles at the injury sites. The less they're used, the more work it takes to build them back up. Maybe this isn't something that you have to worry about, but we mere mortals do. Pardon me for not being some wilting, witless heroine in some turn of the century penny dreadful."
He must not have expected her to blast him in quite that manner because he sat back in his chair and stared at her. As if he'd never seen her before. And she could see a hint of hurt creeping into his eyes. Damn it. Sighing, she shook her head. "It isn't that I don't want you to care. You obviously do. And its actually a very lovely thing. Much different from how my family would treat me. But I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be kept safe from the rest of the world. I'm actually quite capable of caring for myself. I've been doing so for a very long time."
He drew a breath, let it out on a soft sigh and ran a hand through his hair. The action left his honeyed tresses in mild disarray. "I'm sorry."
"I realize that I'm supposed to be resting. But would you be resting, if our positions were switched? Could you simply sit still all day and do nothing more than watch television? Or read endlessly about how the intrepid heroine met a beefy, amazingly sexy and gorgeous man she couldn't stand but was undeniably attracted to?" She used a softer tone to let him know that she wasn't really angry with him. It was the situation that had her upset. "My brain is used to being in constant motion. Not doing anything with it will surely see it atrophy. Just like lying about in bed will see the muscles in my abdomen get weak. My mind is what makes me who I am."
She finished her little speech and picked up the two white pills he'd deposited next to her plate. He was silent while she downed them, as she swallowed water from the glass with which to wash them down. When she gave him her full attention again, it was to find that he was watching her carefully. And there was a hint of a sad smile on his face. She lifted a brow at him in silent question. "Who told you that your mind makes you who you are?" he asked quietly.
Elsa blinked at the question. It had been unexpected. But there was no reason not to answer him or give him the truth. "My mother. She told me more than once that I wouldn't be able to land a man with my looks. But there was surely some average man out there who wanted brains over beauty. So I should never let my mind get dull because then I'd have nothing to offer anyone."
There was no pain in her voice, nothing to say that such words had done any damage to her. Nothing other than a tone that said it was accepted fact. Steve frowned at her, rose from his chair and came around the table. She watched as he knelt next to her chair, reached out and took her hands in his. "Elsa, your mother lied to you. You are a beautiful woman."
"My mother was the beautiful one. She should have been in the movies." And her mother had been absolutely lovely when she'd been younger. But she'd also been a cold woman who had had no time for her only child. Elsa had been raised by the maids and nannies that had come and gone through the years. The only one who had actually had time for her was her grandmother. "I'm not as beautiful as Mom."
"Oh, God, Elsa. If you could see yourself the way I do." His hands rose and slid over her hair, mapped the contours of her cheeks and lips, framed the shape of her chin between his fingers. His eyes traced every single line of her body, from head to toe. It didn't matter that she was sitting down. She swore she could see him drawing her form on the canvas in his head. His eyes lit up and the smile that spread across his face warmed her right down to her toes. "There's this sleek shine on your hair that catches and holds the eye. Your eyes are... so cold and yet so warm. The way you smile brightens your whole face. Then you have these amazing curves that invite a man's hands."
He tugged on her good hand and slowly, carefully, pulled her to her feet. To show her what he meant, his hands went straight to the curve of her hips. "You have such wonderfully long legs that look like they'd be strong. Any sane man who loves women would be out of his mind to not want them wrapped around his waist. There is this absolutely breath taking symmetry to your face that you just don't see on real people. And as if the exterior wasn't enough to grab a person's attention, you have this aura that surrounds you. Its made up of confidence and self-assurance. Its strong and bright and it pulses with life. You're beautiful inside and out. You're a living, breathing work of art."
She was blushing. She knew she was, could feel it in her cheeks. They were filled with heat. "That isn't me, Steve. I'm just a geeky, nerdy scientist who--" He brought a hand up and settled it against her cheek. Pressed his thumb against her lips to silence her.
"Come with me. Let me show you how beautiful I think you are," he urged. Pleasure and embarrassment raced through her. She should tell him no and go lay in bed for a while. But there was such an earnestly open and honest look on his face that she didn't have the heart to turn him down. She gave him a smile and allowed him to tow her after him, curious to see what he had planned.
They made their way to her bedroom, where he wordlessly positioned her in her favorite chair. Then he was gone in a flash, returning almost as quickly as he'd left with a sketch pad and a pencil in hand. He took a seat on the foot rest that was only inches from her. "Now just sit there. I'm going to show you, Elsa. I'm going to show you just how beautiful you are."
She said nothing, simply sat there and watched as he put pencil to paper. His hand moved as it traced a line across the paper. In the blink of an eye, he was lost in his drawing. The only sound was the slight scratch of the lead against the paper. The faintly harsh rasp of their breaths as they inhaled and exhaled. His entire focus was lost to what he was doing. And that was okay, because Elsa was lost in the perfection of his face.
~*~*~*~*~
Phoebe felt distinctly out of place in the terribly plush interior of the restaurant. It hadn't been her choice, though. Pepper had chosen their meeting place, as well as the time of the meeting, when she'd called to find out if Phoebe was available for a nice lunch. Phoebe had hated leaving the boys alone, but Happy had cheerfully volunteered to watch them for her. He'd also made sure that there had been a cab at the house to pick her up and take her to her luncheon. She wasn't sure if Tony would be pleased with her going off without a word to him, but she figured that lunch with Pepper would be forgiven.
The restaurant Pepper had picked had a club feel to it. It was done in rich, dark woods and deep pile carpets. The tables were covered with white linen cloths, the dishes were bone china, and cut crystal stemware sat at the head and to the left of each plate. There was real silverware next to her plate. And a small basket of bread rested in the center of the table, situated between two white taper candles in silver sticks. Pepper had said it was upscale, but Phoebe was sure that her pencil skirt in black and the gold silk blouse she'd put on were still not up to the establishment's high standards.
She glanced up to see the maitre d on his way over to the table with Pepper in tow. The man was smiling at her, talking animatedly as they moved between the tables. Pepper smiled in return, added the occasional comment, but otherwise seemed immune to the man's charm. After working so long for Tony, Phoebe couldn't blame her. Tony Stark was charm on two legs. "Your party, Miss Potts," the man said as he held Pepper's chair for her.
"Thank you, Raoul. I appreciate you taking care of Phoebe while she was waiting for me."
"My pleasure, Miss Potts. I'll send Tomas over to take your drink order," the man said before hurrying off. Presumably to find Tomas. Pepper took a few moments to situate herself, allowing Phoebe to take note of the crisp, expensive blouse she wore with her crisp, expensive business suit. The color scheme of the day seemed to be black with pale peach. The color should have clashed with her hair, but it didn't. She had the sides pulled back from her face, leaving a fringe of bangs to brush her eyebrows.
"Phoebe. Its good to see you. How are you doing?" Pepper asked, voice genuine and bright, a smile on her face.
Phoebe managed a bright, genuine smile in response to Pepper's own. "I'm doing well. A little tired but nothing that sleep won't cure. As soon as I can get some."
"Of course," Pepper nodded, then turned that smile on the waiter who had just stepped up to their table.
"Good afternoon, Miss Potts. What can I start you and your companion off with to drink today?" Tomas asked.
"I'd like a club soda," Pepper replied. Tomas, Phoebe noted, did not write it down. He turned his dark gaze her way.
"And for you, miss?"
"Do you have any herbal tea?" Phoebe asked, acutely aware of everyone and everything in the immediate area.
"We have several varieties to choose from. Do you have a preference?"
"Green tea, if you have it."
"Of course, miss. We have a lovely organic green tea. I'll go get those drinks started and be back shortly." Tomas flashed them a smile, then walked away.
"They seem to know you well here, Pepper," Phoebe commented, trying to relax into her seat. Her nerves were in knots and it wasn't entirely due to being away from Tex when he was still weak.
Pepper looked up from unrolling her silverware and waved a hand around the interior. "Tony used to come here frequently when he was playing at being the CEO of Stark Industries. I often accompanied him. Its a fabulous little place with wonderful food."
"Tony doesn't spend much time running his business?" Phoebe asked. This was surprising news. She'd gotten the impression from him that he liked to be hands on with his company.
Pepper smiled again, a look Phoebe was getting to know well. It was Pepper's patented 'I suffer because I'm Tony Stark's personal assistant' look. "Tony doesn't actually run Stark Industries. He leaves much of that to me. Final decisions are his. But I tend to handle most of the day to day stuff."
"Ah," Phoebe said. That explained quite a bit to her, actually. She might have said more, but Tomas returned with their requested drinks. After settling a china cup and a teapot before Phoebe and a glass of club soda on ice before Pepper, he let his gaze slide back and forth between them.
"Do you ladies know what you want to eat? Would you like to hear the specials?" he asked them.
"No, thank you," Pepper shook her head. She hadn't touched her menu since sitting down, but she looked up at Tomas all the same. "I want the Waldorf salad. And an order of the rosemary biscuits."
"Very good, Miss Potts. And for you, miss?" Tomas turned to Phoebe. She offered him a smile and let her gaze skim over the menu laying open before her.
"The salmon sounds delicious. Can I get that with steamed broccoli and garlic mashed potatoes?" Phoebe asked, one finger tapping the item on the menu.
"Of course, miss." Tomas scooped up the menus and gave a slight bow with his head, then slipped away without another word. As soon as he was gone, the two of them fell into idle chatter meant to pass the time. Phoebe knew that this wasn't what Pepper had asked her here for and that the woman would reveal her real reasons in her own time.
The idle chatter continued through their meal, with Pepper telling Phoebe a few stories about Tony that had them both laughing. They were stories meant to put Phoebe at ease, but they did little more than make her even more anxious than she'd been when she'd first arrived. There was a growing fear, one she couldn't shake, that Pepper was about to drop something horrible in Phoebe's lap and leave her to try and deal with it. That fear continued on through the meal and into the dessert that Pepper ordered for them, a very light and decadent Italian ice that left Phoebe hungry for more.
It was when Pepper was on her after lunch coffee, Phoebe sipping at more of her tea, that the other woman got to the reason she'd asked Phoebe to lunch. Sighing, she looked up at Phoebe and clasped her hands together before her. She gave Phoebe a look that was filled with deep concern. "I want to know how Tony's doing."
Phoebe blinked at the statement. That wasn't quite what she'd been expecting. "I'm sorry. I don't know that I understand what you're asking me, Pepper."
The redhead sighed and stirred her coffee, her hands seeking something to do out of nervous habit. She studied Phoebe for a while before something sad passed through her eyes. "You know that Tony and I were together for a while, don't you?"
"Yes. It was big news. It was all over the society section and in every single gossip magazine out there. As suddenly as it happened, it was over." Phoebe worked to keep her tone neutral and even. This was not a conversation she thought she should be having with Pepper. Especially since Phoebe appeared to be the woman du jour. How much did it hurt Pepper to smile and be nice to the woman who had taken her place?
"Tony and I had issues. But that never stopped me from caring about him. I was worried for a while that he would slide back into his old habits and patterns. And, for a while, he did. Then you came along and I saw a change in him. A good change. I've never seen him so focused on a person. Its a good thing. You can't imagine," Pepper explained quietly. "Thank you for that, by the way."
"I didn't do anything, really. Tony was the one who made the decision to change."
"Don't be so modest. Tony would never have changed if you hadn't kicked him in the butt," Pepper grinned at that. It was a genuine look that told Phoebe there were no hard feelings between her and Pepper. "He needed it. Deserved it." Her expression changed, grin sliding away into a faint frown. "I saw what happened in Central Park. Not all of it, of course. Aspects of it were deliberately left out by S.H.I.E.L.D. because it was information they didn't want the public to have. But I know enough to know that what happened was very big and very bad. And whatever it was, I have no doubts that it affected Tony in bad ways."
"I don't know how much I can tell you," Phoebe admitted. Not that she really knew a great deal about what had happened herself. Other than what she'd gone through, that is. But Pepper cared about Tony and she was worried about him. Phoebe felt she owed it to the other woman to tell her what she knew. Something inside said that Pepper would be a great ally to have. More than that, she'd been a great friend. Decision made, she let her eyes slide around the interior of the restaurant, absently taking note of the customers. Most of them were older and probably richer than God. Not richer than Tony. But still rich. She didn't see anyone who looked as if they might be working for Fury. That gave her the courage to take a chance. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base and the helicarrier were attacked. Both were... They're in ruins."
"Damn," Pepper sighed and sat back in her chair. "How bad was it?"
"There were hundreds injured. Dozens killed. I don't know exact numbers and I don't want to. Living through it once was bad enough. I don't want to relive it a second time." She couldn't help herself. She shuddered at the very idea.
"Which brings us back to my original question. How is Tony handling all this?"
"I'm not sure. He doesn't really tell me anything. But I think it bothers him more than he's willing to let on. I don't think he's sleeping much right now." Phoebe sighed and shook her head. "Then again, I'm not doing much of that myself. If I do, its because I've taken a pain pill before bed. Frankly, I'm worried about him."
"Tony isn't really big with sharing his thoughts and feelings. And even when he does, he doesn't make much sense. He tends to internalize everything. It isn't healthy for him." Pepper looked up at Phoebe, her eyes filled with raw pain and the tattered remnants of her feelings for Tony. "Do not let him shut himself off. Do whatever you have to do to get him to open up and talk. Don't let him let this fester. Nothing good can come of that."
The way Pepper talked, Phoebe got the feeling that the woman knew exactly what she was talking about. It sounded like she'd lived through Tony's internalizing of his problems before. Phoebe offered her a smile meant to reassure. "I'll do my best."
"That's all I can ask you to do," Pepper replied. The sigh she gave suggested that this was something that had been troubling her for a while. Probably since she'd seen the footage on the news.
With that last statement, Phoebe saw all of the tension she'd been feeling since Pepper's call sliding away like water off a duck's back. She offered the other woman a faint smile before sipping at the cooling cup of tea before her. "I have to admit, this wasn't exactly what I'd expected from this luncheon." She felt silly admitting it, but if she and Pepper were going to have any kind of relationship, she felt it was only prudent to be honest with the other woman.
"What did you think would happen here today?" Pepper asked, idly swirling her spoon through the remnants of her Italian ice.
"I was honestly afraid that you would come here and warn me off Tony, tell me to stay away from him. Something like that."
"You mean you thought I'd be the crazy ex-girlfriend," Pepper replied.
"It sounds horrible when you put it that way." Phoebe ducked her head and nodded. She felt embarrassed about it now. Pepper tossed her a grin and shook her head.
"No matter what my feelings for Tony, I know that he and I are over. And I can live with that. But I still care about him. Not just because he's my boss but because he's my friend. And my family. I don't want to see him hurt." It was subtle warning, one which Phoebe acknowledge with a slight incline of her head. "So I'm always going to have his best interests in mind. In the same vein, I don't want to see him hurt you, either. You're good for him in a way I haven't seen anyone be good for him. He needs it. He needs you. And I'm secure enough to accept that I'm not what he needs."
Phoebe smiled at her. "I will do my utmost to keep him healthy. And happy. And sane. But I'm probably going to need your help to do it."
The grin Pepper gave her then practically oozed evil. "That could be fun. And it would definitely drive Tony up the wall. I like it. This could be the start of a very beautiful friendship." The redhead saluted her with her club soda.
Phoebe sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I think I'd like that very much. I don't have many friends."
Pepper stared at her for a few seconds, then let her lips curl up in a truly evil smile. Without saying a word, she signaled Tomas for the check. When he arrived at the table, she pulled a credit card from her purse and offered it to him. He left without saying a word. "Well, then. I think we christen our new friendship,."
Phoebe wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "How?"
"I think we need to do a little shopping." Phoebe stared at the other woman. Oh, dear. Now why did that sound dangerous?
~*~*~*~*~
Miri stared up at the stone edifice and shook her head. This seemed an odd place to find Alex, but after trying her apartment and a few of the local gyms and even the shop her friend owned where the other woman went to work on cars and clear her head with no luck, this had been her last option. It had seemed a long shot, given the fact that Miri couldn't remember the last time Alex had gone to church. And yet, the GTO was pulled up to the curb. the bright purple paint job an unmistakable calling card.
She knew this was the Quinn family's church, because Alex had pointed it out to her once, many years ago. It was built like the old cathedrals of Europe but on a much smaller scale. Wooden doors barred the darkened interior from the bright rays of the sun while a small rose window sat just above them. The stone was weathered grey and smooth, the wooden doors dark with stain. Miri had a moment to wonder what Alex was doing here, then the pulled the large wooden panel open and stepped into the shadowed entry.
She passed through the one of three arches that opened into the church proper, footsteps silent on the faded green carpet that covered the floor between the rows of pews. Miri let her gaze sweep the place, taking note of the altar at the front of the church. It was decorated with white and green cloth, a pair of candles in giant silver sticks resting standing at either end. It looked like there was some kind of arrangement or something between the candles, but she wasn't sure what it was. The air was painted with the smell of incense and a faint, underlying odor of mustiness. Long stained glass windows ran up the walls on either side, while another rose window stood watch over the pulpit from the back wall. Under that window was Christ on his cross, hands and feet nailed down while he bled from several wounds.
She walked slowly, with a kind of reverence that she didn't use many other places, toward the front of the church. One side held the confessional booths. The other had a stand of candles in red glass votives. A casual glance showed her that there were two lit. And that was all.
She found Alex hunched over in a pew near the front, right in the open. It seemed an odd place for the other woman to sit given just how lapsed she'd let her faith get. Her head was bent, hair still caught up in a limp pony tail that suggested Alex might need to take a shower. Miri wondered at that, but shook the wonder off as she reached the pew and turned into it.
Alex was murmuring under her breath, hands clasped together before her. Praying. It was something of a shocking sight. Miri didn't think she'd ever seen her friend like this. This close, she could see that Alex was dirty, covered in grime and oil. She'd obviously come straight from the garage. Miri made a noise with her feet before taking a seat next to the other woman. Alex didn't look up at her. Didn't even stop praying. Well, wasn't this awkward? "Alex."
Her name saw the other woman stop praying, saw her lift her head to stare at Christ. She didn't let her gaze stray toward Miri at all. There was something gone from Alex's face that had always been there before, but Miri wasn't sure she could name it.
She let the silence fall and stretch between them, hoping that doing so would encourage Alex to talk. It didn't. When a minute or more had passed them by without a word being spoken, the other woman dipped her head again.
"Damn it, Alex. I'm--"
"Don't." Her voice was harsh and tired. Empty. Emotionless. "Just don't, Miri. It doesn't matter anymore. You were right."
That startled her. It wasn't often that Alex willingly admitted she'd been wrong about anything. "About what?"
The question brought her head up and Alex turned flat green eyes her way. "I'm a fucking coward. Happy? Good. Now go away."
God, the lack of anything in her friend's voice hurt. Miri couldn't ever recall seeing Alex like this before. Well, there'd been the time right after her first partner had been killed. But Miri had written that off to having been there when Stevenson had died. But this... This was something different. Miri didn't think it was entirely to do with Barton, either. Alex had been cold and distant since their fight. Frowning, Miri tried to remember just what had happened then. To be honest, she'd been so emotionally charged that she couldn't really recall what she'd said to Alex. Whatever it was, it seemed to have stuck. "Alex--"
"No, Miri. I told you. It doesn't matter anymore. Just go and leave me be. Its obvious that..." her words choked off on what Miri suspected was a sob. She took a moment to get herself back under control and Miri let her have it. Now that some of the worst danger had passed, she was willing to admit that she'd taken a good deal of her fear and anger out on the one person who would have understood better than anyone. Alex hadn't deserved that. "Recent events have made it obvious to me that everything I thought was good in my life is nothing but shit."
That was twice Alex had sworn inside the church. She heard Mary Magdelaine's voice in her head, chastising her daughter for her disrespect. And then there was the voice that told her there was something more going on here than simply Alex being hurt by their fight. More than Alex being worried about Clint even when she couldn't admit that she loved him. What had Miri missed?
"Surely it isn't all shit. You love your position at S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Do you know how much of my life has been a lie?" Alex asked. The question seemed to have nothing to do with Miri's statement, but if Alex was talking to her, she was willing to let the conversation go where it would. "I've lied to my parents for years about what I do. Which is only fair because it turns out that I've been lied to by the same people I've been lying about. Isn't that a kick in the head? Mitch's death was a sign. I was just too stupid to realize it at the time."
"Alex, what's going on here?"
"Go ask Natasha. I'm sure she'd be as happy to enlighten you as she was to enlighten me."
Okay. Miri didn't know what that meant, so she let it go. It seemed like a change of subject was in order. She tried a topic that she hoped Alex would warm to. "Clint's awake."
"Bully for him," Alex replied. If anything, her voice got colder and emptier.
"You saved his life, Alex. If you hadn't found him in that closet..." Miri trailed off.
The other woman shook her head and turned to look at Miri. "What makes you think any of this matters to me anymore? I told you before. He hates me. End of story. I'm glad he's okay. I'm glad he's going to be up and around to be a pain in someone else's ass. Woo. I did my fucking job. Just let it go. Even if I could admit to having feelings for him, I'm emotionally stunted. Remember?"
"I was out of my head with fear and worry, Alex. I didn't know what I was saying and I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for the truth, Miri. I'm just sorry that I didn't see it before. I'd have gone back to the motor pool and you could have had a partner who wasn't... me." Alex stopped and glanced toward the candles.
"Why would I want another partner? You're my best friend and you're a damned good partner," Miri told her. She'd seen Alex go through many things but she'd never seen her friend so hard on herself. Ever. Not even after Mitch Stevenson had been killed on that mission. Alex said nothing, simply dropped her gaze to her hands. Miri saw that they were covered with scabs, the knuckles bruised from abuse. There were spots that looked infected that Miri knew had come from the battle at the base. Those, along with the attitude and the way she looked, were hints as to some larger, deeper problem that Miri couldn't put her finger on. The clues were there. Miri just had to find them and put them together in the right way. "Alex, seriously. You're scaring me. Tell me what's going on here."
"Nothing is going on, Miri. I told you. I'm a fucking coward and my life is nothing but one long lie." Miri blinked at that. Alex thought she was a coward? What would make her think that? And how was her life a lie? None of this made any sense to Miri. Alex sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't come here to fight or join my pity party. And I just don't know when to quit. How about we talk about something else?"
Miri nodded, welcoming the subject change. "Can I share something with you?"
"Sure," Alex replied, making an honest effort to push everything aside so that she could give her attention to her friend. Miri could see it in the way she sat up straighter, in the way she unclenched her hands and forced them to relax.
"I... I'm afraid, Alex."
"Of what? I didn't think anything scared you."
She bit her lip, unsure how this topic of discussion was going to go over. Confusing as Alex's behavior was, she didn't want to set her friend off again. "Its Phil," she began softly.
"How is Coulson doing?" Alex asked, voice pleasantly curious. And empty. Still, it was better than having Alex rage at her for reasons Miri couldn't even begin to understand.
"He's alive. But it isn't looking good. He's still unconscious. The doctors are trying to be optimistic and cautious at the same time," Miri told her, snorting with the last of it. "I'm afraid he isn't going to wake up at all. Or, if he does, he won't be the same person. I don't know what to do."
"Miri, this is Coulson we're talking about. He's a bad ass son of a bitch. There is nothing in this world that can stop him. Gods bow down to him. He'll be okay. Better than ever." There was no sarcasm in Alex's voice, just a deep and sorrowed sincerity. "I'm glad you found someone. And I'm glad he makes you happy."
"You could be happy, too," she said quietly. She watched as Alex went tense. She expected another tirade. But the other woman simply shrugged one shoulder and shook her head.
"Its over and done with, Miri. The ship sailed. And its better that way. After Mitch, after I got him killed... I just can't risk it. With anyone. No matter how good they are. I can't live with myself now." The quiet tone of her voice said that she was done talking about it. Miri sighed and wondered at her stubbornness, but decided to respect Alex's wishes anyway.
"You really think he's going to be okay?" she asked softly.
"This is Coulson we're talking about. The man who could kill you before you knew he was there. With a kitten and nothing else. Of course he'll be okay. Why wouldn't he be? He's got you to come back to, doesn't he?" Again, Alex's voice was filled with the same soft sorrow she'd heard before. Miri reached for Alex, intent on hugging her. But the woman scooted further down the pew before Miri could touch her. That stung, but she let it go. There was something very seriously wrong with Alex. She just didn't know what it was.
"Thanks, Alex," she said instead. And she meant it.
Alex nodded her head. "I mean it, Miri. He's lucky. He'll come back to you."
She could have kicked herself because tears started falling then. Alex glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, then scooted back toward her and carefully wrapped an arm around Miri's shoulder. Miri leaned into Alex's hold and settled her head on the other woman's shoulder. She knew, somehow, that this didn't mean things were okay between them yet. Far from it. Miri had hurt Alex with their fight and it would take more than this to fix that. Miri would find someway to do it, too. She'd find some way to bridge the gap between them and make it all better.
When the tears dried, Alex withdrew her arm and slid away. She went back to staring at her hands, making Miri wonder if they hurt from all the abuse the other woman had heaped on them. She thought she saw a couple of burns amidst the scrapes and scabs and grease. That reminded her. "Thank you for lighting a candle for him, Alex. It means a lot."
"I'm not completely heartless." The words came out harsh and filled with anger. Somehow, Miri suspected they were meant more for Alex than for her. She wondered at that. The other woman had always had her moments of self-loathing. Being brought up Catholic had done that to her. But this session took the cake. She'd never seen it this bad before. Alex sighed and idly rubbed at her knuckles with her fingers. A wince let Miri know that they did indeed hurt. "He's still a human being and he had the good taste to fall in love with you."
Miri wanted to ask her again what was wrong, but she reined the urge in. The moment the question was out, Alex would go back to angry and defensive. That was the last thing she wanted. This was the first she'd seen Alex since the mission and she was loathe to let the other woman leave. She'd been so concerned about Phil that she hadn't realized she missed Alex until she'd realized that she hadn't seen Alex since the mission. A few carefully phrased questions to Maria Hill had gotten her answers and none of them had been happy ones.
She'd been told that Alex had been there that night with her reports. Maria hadn't been in on the short meeting the two of them had had, but she'd seen Alex come and go. There'd been an odd, angry sense of purpose in her stride when she'd entered Fury's office. When she'd left, there'd been more anger. Less sense of purpose. Maria had told her that she was sure Alex had been on the verge of tears when she'd breezed past on her way out. That didn't sound like Alex at all. And maybe, had Miri not been so wrapped up in Phil's condition, she might have noticed that there was something wrong with a woman she claimed as her best friend.
"He'll be okay, Miri. You watch." Alex's words brought her out of her thoughts. It was to find that the other woman was coming to her feet. "I have to get back to the garage. I'm ripping a Fifty three Buick apart for Greg."
She didn't wait for Miri to say goodbye, just turned and fled toward the exit.
Miri didn't move for a while, thinking everything over. She wished she was as sure about Phil as Alex. And she wished she knew what the hell was going around the other woman's head. She considered asking Mary Magdelaine what she knew about Alex's past relationships, because she was more than certain that much of what was bothering Alex was rooted in the man's death. But asking Mary Magdelaine would require an explanation that she didn't think would go over well. Because Mary Magdelaine would start worrying about Alex and then the mother hen would be into Alex's business in the blink of an eye.
But that didn't mean she didn't have some place to start. Alex had said to talk to Natasha. That the Black Widow would know what was going on. Miri planned on doing just that. If Natasha had done anything to hurt Alex... Miri sighed and shook her head.
Hell. Dealing with Natasha was the easy part. The hard part would be finding a way to get Alex and Clint back together. Because it was more than obvious that Alex was lost without him in her life. Even if she claimed she didn't love him and he was nothing more than a pain in the ass. It was the least Miri could do for her.
Decision made, beginnings of a plan of attack made, Miri rose and started to go. But she stopped and turned back to stare at the rows of candles. Why the hell not? Miri closed the distance to the table, lifted a little stick to one of the lit candles. It flared to life with flame easily and Miri used it to light a couple candles of her own. One for Phil, done so with a silent prayer that he would be okay. She lit a second for Alex. Rolled her eyes heavenward. "If you can shed some light on all this, I'd appreciate it. I can use all the help I can get."
Chapter Twenty Two: Exchange
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
It was the headache that woke him, a dull throb that started at the back of his skull and climbed slowly upward until it came to rest right behind his eyes. He'd had enough concussions in his life to know the signs. Once the pain in his head made itself known, other aches jumped up to join in the fray.
There were the small ones that meant scratches and scrapes. A few that pulled when he shifted, suggesting bruising. A sharp stab of pain lancing through his chest meant that he'd probably cracked or broken some ribs. And, finally, there was a pulsing shaft of dimmed agony in his leg. He couldn't for the life of him remember how that one had come to be.
As he lay there, cataloguing the various sore spots on his body, he became aware of a soft beeping noise. The slight incline at which he lay. The tight pull of tape against his skin. The slightly muddled sensation that wrapped itself around his brain. The sharp sting of antiseptic that tickled his nose. He was in a hospital room. God, he hated hospitals. Whatever had happened, it had to have been a doozy. Just what the hell had he been doing to warrant a stay in a hospital bed? Even though his brain told him it was going to be difficult in the matter, he ordered it to be quiet and told himself to think.
The layers of cotton peeled away slowly. That could be blamed on the pain killers they were no doubt pumping into him. He felt he must be floating on the edge of nothing and everything given the way he could feel his body and yet still have problems accessing what had happened. It didn't help that it felt as if someone was pounding on his skull with a sledge hammer. That just meant he had to force the issue, push harder for the answers.
The first thing that came to him was HYDRA and that was all it took. Just thinking of the word brought memories rushing back so quickly that it was startling. He let them come, allowed them to fill his head until it seemed that his skull would shatter with the vast amount of information he recalled. And then he decided that maybe he didn't want to remember it all. Certainly not in such vivid detail.
They'd been under attack. Somehow, HYDRA had discovered the location of the helicarrier and they'd launched an assault on the floating fortress. Coulson had given him the okay to grab whatever weaponry he could find and use it to take down every last one of their enemy he could. And that was precisely what he'd done. Until an enemy agent had snuck up on him. Something that shouldn't have happened. Granted, his position had been kind of shitty and he'd been more or less exposed. But his senses were better than that. He should have known and he hadn't.
He'd been in the process of turning when the other man had fired. Ah. That explained the pain in his thigh. He must have been hit by a bullet. His had hit, too. He knew that much. He never missed and he'd been turned far enough to know that he'd hit the guy who'd shot him. Whether it was a killing blow or a wounding blow was another matter. But he knew that the man had been hit. The problem was that in rolling to shoot the man, he'd sent himself over the edge of the catwalk. The drop to the floor had been long and it should have killed him. Should have broken his spine in two and crushed his skull. He couldn't say why it hadn't. He honestly didn't know. Not that he wasn't grateful. It was shit that shouldn't have happened, though.
He should have been more on the ball than that. He should have sensed the other man coming and he should have shot him before the guy had ever gotten a single round off. What the fuck had he been thinking that he hadn't been paying attention to his flank like that?
Oh. Right. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he'd been thinking about Alex.
As if thinking about her was enough to see his senses kick into high gear, he caught the faint scent of something that was both earthy and feminine. It prompted him to pry his eyes open, no small feat, and search the room.
He was right. Hospital room. More than that, though, it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. Which told him a whole lot. The interior was done in a pale blue that wasn't too hard to look at. There were a few pictures hung on the wall, mostly watercolors that he didn't bother studying. A bathroom in one corner. A minuscule closet that no doubt held absolutely nothing in it on the wall with the bathroom. Observation windows high up, near the ceiling. Along with the light over his bed, the monitor next to it helped provide lights in the dimmed room. But the dimness couldn't hide the bright red head that lounged near the door. He licked his lips and opened his mouth.
"She isn't here, Clint. She isn't coming." Natasha's words were harsh and sharp. Tainted with the bitterness of her own fear.
"Not if you're going to stand guard at the door and glower at everyone," he managed to reply, though his voice came out in a rasp and his throat felt dry as the desert. His words saw Natasha slinking forward into the small circle of illumination that surrounded his bed. "How long have I been out?"
"A couple of days. You'd lost a good deal of blood." Despite the chill in her voice, he thought he saw something soft there in her eyes. Of course, that could be remnants of the drugs playing tricks on him. "Chances are good they wouldn't have found you, had you not bled everywhere."
He remembered finding himself conscious just moments before the helicarrier began listing so deeply to one side that everything went sliding. He even went sliding. He'd ended up slamming into a wall next to a closet. Upon realizing that the helicarrier was going to crash, he'd decided that he'd rather hide in a closet than be crushed by any falling debris. That way, he could have an open casket service after they found his body. It had taken everything in him to climb to his feet and open the door, to duck into the small service closet when he'd wanted to meet whatever was coming with his head up and a weapon trained on it.
His last thoughts before the air ship had hit ground must have been of Alex because he could swear he'd heard her voice demanding a medical team. And someone who'd sounded suspiciously like Thor trying to convince her to calm down. That had to have been a dream because the cold hearted bitch cared nothing for him. That's what she'd told him. He'd gotten a different sense off of her, but she was stubborn and pig-headed. She wasn't about to listen to him.
The fact that he was thinking about her must have showed on his face because a disgusted noise came from Tasha's throat. When he looked at her, she was frowning. "You deserve better than her, Clint," she told him without prompting.
"Isn't that for me to decide?" he asked her. The look she shot him told him she didn't think so. Clint sighed and lifted the arm that wasn't hooked up to a needle and tubes so that he could rake his hand through his hair. "I appreciate that you care, Tasha. But who I choose to sleep with is exactly that. My choice."
"I don't think you have to worry about it anymore," she said softly. He didn't like the look on her face at all.
Damn. He'd been afraid of that. "What did you do?"
"I simply told her that I would hurt her if she fucked with you again." Before he could say anything else to her about Alex and the fact that his problems with her were just that, she reached out and touched his arm. Gently. "I have to go. Feel better."
He'd barely processed the words before she was out the door.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Clint put his head back and stared up at the ceiling. In doing so, he swore he saw a flash of pale skin and a swirl of black hair at one of the observation windows. Alex? Checking up on him? It seemed incongruous after their last encounter. And, to be fair, he couldn't be sure if he she'd really been there or if he was seeing things.
Unfortunately, just the thought of her watching from above made his heart beat a little faster. Made his gut clench with a dizzying mix of emotions. He was probably a masochistic son of a bitch, but he really hoped that he'd seen her up there. Because that meant that she felt something. For him. Despite her claims that their night together had been nothing more than sex.
If he was a true masochist, he'd never have let her push him from her life. He'd have found a way to get her to tell him whatever it was that she was hiding. He'd seen it in her eyes that day. There'd been something there. And she'd almost told him. It had been on the tip of her tongue. Then she'd frozen and turned into bitchzilla and she'd kicked him out without a single explanation. God, why did he have to pick difficult women to fall for?
Well. Wasn't that revelation a kick in the head? He should have known it would happen. Things like that were inevitable where he was concerned. Loved easy. Lost hard. No middle ground for him. He knew, deep in the back of his mind, that he loved her. Maybe he had since their first encounter all those years ago. He couldn't be sure about just when it had happened. But it had happened. It was damned inconvenient and yet, despite everything that had gone between them, he wouldn't change it for anything. There was something about the woman that, while it drove him insane, drew him to her like a moth to a flame.
Alex was the reason he'd crawled into that damned closet. She was why he'd hidden himself away instead of meeting death head on, a sneer on his face and a gun or a bow in his hand. Because he wanted to see her again. Damn it all to hell, he wanted to find a way to work this thing out between them and pick up right where they'd left off. The craziness that was her family, which he'd only had a brief taste of, was as enticing as she was.
Her mother welcoming him into the family without question or pause had been kind of scary. And kind of wonderful. Alex had been so lost and confused that night. He'd tried to help and had only made things worse for her. But when her mother had interpreted his words to mean a proposal and she'd never once doubted it, Clint had felt wanted and needed and welcome. It had been kind of heady. And he'd wanted it.
That thought stopped him cold but he had no time to give it serious consideration. There was a knock at his door, then the panel swung open and Tony Stark walked into his room. He watched as the man let his gaze travel around the four walls, taking in the various aspects of its boring hospital uniformity. It gave Clint an opportunity to really study the man. Despite the affected guise of negligence, there was a weight that hung on his shoulders. As much as he wanted to seem as if none of this had touched him, it was obvious that he was still attempting to come to terms with everything. And he didn't seem to be in any hurry to strike up a conversation. That meant Clint would have to go first. "What brings you here, Tony? Slumming?"
"I was in the neighborhood. I thought I'd stop by. Its good to see you awake and not bleeding." Stark crossed to the single chair and kind of threw himself into it. His posture screamed with equal parts attention and slouch, something Clint had discovered that Tony had perfected.
"Its good to be awake and not bleeding." His reply was met with silence, which was unlike the other man. Stark was never afraid to give his opinion to others, even when he knew they didn't want it. Clint would have to cut to the chase. "So what happened? How bad was it?"
"HYDRA attacked the helicarrier and the base in a coordinated assault that left far too many people injured or dead." The seriousness in Stark's voice was frightening. Clint started at the news. The base had been hit, too? It was worse than he'd originally thought. The other man focused his gaze on Clint and shook his head. "The helicarrier is nothing more than technological wreckage. The base is a giant mess of shattered walls and rubble. Teams of searchers are still digging bodies out of both of them."
"How many dead? How many injured?"
"Too many. Loki was in on it. We're sure that's how HYDRA found both locations." He watched as Tony leaned forward and put his head in hands, elbows digging into his knees.
Loki? Working with HYDRA? There were so many things wrong with that picture. How was it even possible that... Clint shook his head and muttered a few choice words under his breath. Tony looked up at him, face masked with mild curiosity. Clint knew better. Tony was worse than any old busy body. "The staff. That's how he found them both. The two pieces of the staff that we conveniently stored on the carrier and at the base. Sneaky bastard."
"He does have this talent," Tony replied then fell silent.
"Tell me," Clint urged finally. Stark looked up at him. "How many people survived the carrier's crash?"
"I don't know. A few dozen? Fury sent two teams in to dig out survivors. Agent Quinn's team found Steve and Dr. Jones. He dislocated his shoulder. Dr. Jones broke her arm. Quinn's team also found you. How the hell did you end up in a closet?"
Clint just gave Tony a smug look that said he wasn't telling. At the same time, his mind was latched on to the fact that Alex had found him. He hadn't imagined that bit after all. He had heard her voice. She had been there. And she'd been... upset. Much against his better judgement, that knowledge warmed his heart in ways he didn't really want to think about. Then his brain came back round to what they were supposed to be discussing. "Coulson?"
The pause that came told him more than he wanted to know. "They don't know if he'll ever wake up," Tony admitted softly. Clint swore under his breath. Fucking HYDRA.
"What about the base?"
"There's so much damage, it could be the ruins of some long lost civilization. I don't have numbers."
"Did anyone get hurt?"
Tony gave him a look that said that was a stupid question. But he sighed and answered it anyway. "I only know of a few personally. Phoebe was grazed with a bullet. One of her dogs was kicked and had to go to the vet. Off the top of my head, I can't think of anyone else who was seriously injured. Then again, I was all over the place during the fight." Those words saw a sense of relief washing through him and Clint decided he wasn't going to look too deeply at the reasons for that. Not right now.
"And HYDRA?"
"Fury already sent a team in to clear out the nest." There was something in Tony's voice. It was just begging Clint to ask the next logical question. Tony was waiting for him to do so.
"Who was on it?" Clint wasn't one to disappoint.
"Cap and Thor. Alex and Miri. Word has it that they made sure none of the HYDRA agents left that place alive." There was smugness in Tony's voice that Clint didn't really like. And, again, he wasn't about to wonder too deeply about the sense of perverse satisfaction that washed through him at the news that Alex had sought revenge for him. Because something inside of him was sure that was exactly what she'd done. "Did you know that Steve's got himself a woman?"
Those words saw Clint blinking up at Tony in disbelief. Quiet, serious, red, white, and blue Steve? With a girl? "Oh, yeah? Who?"
"Elsa," Tony said, then leaned back in the chair. With the serious stuff gone over, the man was free to relax and be himself. No one had ever accused Tony of being overly serious about shit and the sudden shift in his attitude was proof. Not that the man couldn't be serious. He just liked it when he didn't have to be.
"No way! Meek, nerdy Dr. Elsa Jones?" Wow. That was a shock.
"Yes. Meek, nerdy Dr. Elsa Jones has got the hots for Cap. And he's got the hots right back. Apparently, the two have been doing some scientific research alone together. Rumor has it he risked his life to save hers when the helicarrier was dropping like a stone in water. When the doctor released her from the hospital, good old Steve volunteered to go home with her and keep an eye on her."
"Man, how did I miss this?"
"Neither one of them is really out in the open about their feelings. And you know how old fashioned Steve is." Clint nodded his head. The rest of the Avengers had long ago bet on just when Captain America, the country's most prime specimen of virile masculinity, would lose his virginity. They'd all figured, when he did, that it would be with someone who had experience. Like the hooker Tony kept threatening to hire for him. They should have known that all it would take was another old fashioned virgin. "Oh, yeah. It appears Coulson is dating, too."
"What?" Clint had to have heard him wrong. He just had to have. Because it sounded an awful lot like Tony had said Agent Phil Coulson, the most uptight person Clint had ever met, was seeing a woman. "So... God, I can't even picture this. Are you sure? Who is he dating? And are they--"
Tony's eyebrow lifted at that. "Having sex? It appears so. The rumor mill says he's going out with Agent Grant."
"With Miri? Alex's friend? She's hot. What's she doing with him?" Clint simply could not wrap his mind around it. They were talking about Coulson. The man who barely broke a smile at the best of times. He was dating and having sex with Alex's best friend? Had the world gone barking mad?
"Anything she wants to, I would think," Tony replied with a smirk. This was news. Naturally, they knew about Thor's thing for Astrid. The big blonde Viking had made his feelings for the woman known on more than one occasion. And Tony had been chasing Phoebe almost from the get go. This news about Steve and Coulson was utterly shocking.
When he came out of his thoughts, it was to find Tony smirking at him knowingly. That couldn't be anything good. "What?"
Tony grinned at him, the smugness radiating off him in heavy waves. As if he'd bathed in it. "So... You and Alex? What's all that about?"
Well... shit. There went the neighborhood.
~*~*~*~*~
She ignored the slight pain that crept around her abdomen as she bent over the microscope and continued peering at the slide she'd prepared not too long ago. For the most part, the pain killers the doctor had prescribed for her kept the ache in her ribs to a tolerable level. But spending time locked away in her private lab, hunched over her ancient equipment, probably wasn't doing her any favors. She knew that she should be reclining on the couch watching the mindlessness of television or propped up in bed with a good book while her ribs worked on knitting themselves back together. The problem with that was she got bored when her mind wasn't going ninety miles a minute on anything and everything scientific. She'd managed all of ten hours in bed before she'd had enough.
After asking Steve to make her something to eat, she'd snuck from her bed and hidden herself away in the lab. It was absolute bliss to be surrounded by her equipment, a familiar friend that she knew would never look at her crossly and tell her to take it easy.
Sighing, she straightened and absently rubbed at the tenderness that had wrapped itself around her torso like a constrictor coiling itself around its prey. The meds were wearing off. Which meant Steve would come looking for her to give her the next dose. He was almost acting the way she'd often wished her mother would act whenever she'd felt a little under the weather. Her mother had never been one for showing emotions of any kind beyond disdain. Now that she was used to the lack of motherly affection, Steve's almost obsessive desire to keep her coddled, while endearing on some level, was driving her up the damn wall.
Well, there went her science-gasm. Elsa gave a forlorn look at the microscope, then hobbled over to the big wing back chair that she'd inherited from her grandfather. With a great deal of relief, and so very slowly, she lowered herself into the seat and worked at unclenching tightened muscles. The effort to remain standing was taking its toll and she knew that when she finally laid down to sleep that night, it would be to the great relief of her battered rib cage.
Her gaze drifted to the cast that encased her right arm. It was starting to ache, letting her know that she'd had it lower than her heart for too long. The problem with that was that sitting with it raised was annoying and, quite frankly, it made her look stupid. Logic told her that the cast would likely remain on for at least six weeks. The ribs would heal in about the same amount of time, assuming she didn't push herself and re-injure them. She just hated sitting around and doing nothing.
She'd always been one to keep active, to always keep her body and mind moving. She'd spent a good deal of time outside when she'd been younger, trying to perfect experiments on things she found in the yard surrounding her family's home. When she hadn't been doing those experiments, or walking around and discovering everything, she'd had her nose buried in one science journal or another. While she still enjoyed a good book, be it a science journal or simply a trashy bodice ripper, she couldn't confine herself to her bed for long periods of time. Experiments were like air to her. She needed them to exist the way she needed to breathe air.
The pain receded from her ribs. Not enough to allow her ease of movement, but enough to allow her to get back to work. It took a bit of work to push herself up from the chair, making her wish she had two working arms. Then she hobbled over to the table to pick up where she'd left off. Except she needed a book off one of the shelves to reference for this part of her experiment. Sighing, she turned toward the ceiling to floor book cases behind her and went searching for the text in question. Her eyes skimmed the spines with practiced ease, automatically reading the titles as she went by them. Finally, her gaze landed on the book she needed and she found herself muttering a curse under her breath. Of course the volume she needed was on the top shelf.
It hurt to reach up. She knew it did. She'd tried it once or twice. This whole experiment thing was turning out to be a huge pain in her ass. Fortunately, she had a stool she could drag over and stand on in an attempt to reach her book without having to stretch too far. Except bending was a problem. Muttering a curse, she kicked the stool across the floor to where she needed it, then climbed up. Still not quite tall enough. Damn it. Against her better judgement, she stretched and reached.
Pain shot through her side and saw her stumbling off the stool. Well, she was going to look stupid when she crashed to the floor and broke her other arm. Except her good arm and the floor never got up close and personal with one another. A pair of strong arms caught her as gently as they could and pulled her in next to a chest she was becoming quite familiar with. Glancing up at Steve's face, she found that his jaw was clenched. Probably not a good time to ask him to put her down. So she remained silent and allowed him to carry her from the lab.
She was surprised that he didn't carry her straight to the bedroom and deposit her in bed. Instead, he carried her out to the dining room and carefully set her into one of the finely carved oak chairs that sat around the table. There was a plate awaiting her, loaded with a thickly cut pork chop that had been seasoned and seared perfectly, a small mound of roasted red potatoes, and a decent helping of spinach salad. A matching plate, filled with larger amounts of the same foods, rested directly across from her own. She watched as he took his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at her.
Oh, goodness. He was angry. Maybe she could head this off at the pass. "Steve, let me explain--"
The look her shot her way let her know that he wasn't going to take any of her excuses. She fell silent and sat back in the chair. If she was being honest with herself, it felt good to rest. Her side ached more fiercely with every passing second. A definite sign that the pain killers were wearing off. "You're supposed to be resting, Elsa. You know, taking it easy. So that your ribs have a chance to heal properly. You're not supposed to be reaching for things on the top shelf of a book case while doing experiments that obviously do not need doing until much later. Do you know how pale you are right now?"
She blinked at him. "I'm pale?" That was news.
"I didn't think so." He pushed his chair back and rose, stalking off toward the kitchen. She watched him go, wondering who had pissed in his Cheerios. A few moments later, she heard the distinctive rattle of a pill bottle. That was followed by the sink running. When Steve returned, he was carrying the pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Both the pain killers and the glass were set down before her with more force than strictly necessary. "Take those."
"I'm not a child, Steve," she told him softly as he returned to his seat. The words, spoken so softly and with such conviction, saw his blue eyes going wide, losing some of their anger.
"I never thought or said you were," he replied carefully.
"You didn't have to. Your actions speak loud and clear for you." She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, but it was uncomfortable with the cast and her ribs just plain didn't like it. She settled for glaring at him across the distance that stretched between them. "You might not realize this, but I do have some basic knowledge of anatomy. And I do know that rest generally helps speed the recovery process. However, I cannot lie about in bed all day. That isn't good for the muscles at the injury sites. The less they're used, the more work it takes to build them back up. Maybe this isn't something that you have to worry about, but we mere mortals do. Pardon me for not being some wilting, witless heroine in some turn of the century penny dreadful."
He must not have expected her to blast him in quite that manner because he sat back in his chair and stared at her. As if he'd never seen her before. And she could see a hint of hurt creeping into his eyes. Damn it. Sighing, she shook her head. "It isn't that I don't want you to care. You obviously do. And its actually a very lovely thing. Much different from how my family would treat me. But I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be kept safe from the rest of the world. I'm actually quite capable of caring for myself. I've been doing so for a very long time."
He drew a breath, let it out on a soft sigh and ran a hand through his hair. The action left his honeyed tresses in mild disarray. "I'm sorry."
"I realize that I'm supposed to be resting. But would you be resting, if our positions were switched? Could you simply sit still all day and do nothing more than watch television? Or read endlessly about how the intrepid heroine met a beefy, amazingly sexy and gorgeous man she couldn't stand but was undeniably attracted to?" She used a softer tone to let him know that she wasn't really angry with him. It was the situation that had her upset. "My brain is used to being in constant motion. Not doing anything with it will surely see it atrophy. Just like lying about in bed will see the muscles in my abdomen get weak. My mind is what makes me who I am."
She finished her little speech and picked up the two white pills he'd deposited next to her plate. He was silent while she downed them, as she swallowed water from the glass with which to wash them down. When she gave him her full attention again, it was to find that he was watching her carefully. And there was a hint of a sad smile on his face. She lifted a brow at him in silent question. "Who told you that your mind makes you who you are?" he asked quietly.
Elsa blinked at the question. It had been unexpected. But there was no reason not to answer him or give him the truth. "My mother. She told me more than once that I wouldn't be able to land a man with my looks. But there was surely some average man out there who wanted brains over beauty. So I should never let my mind get dull because then I'd have nothing to offer anyone."
There was no pain in her voice, nothing to say that such words had done any damage to her. Nothing other than a tone that said it was accepted fact. Steve frowned at her, rose from his chair and came around the table. She watched as he knelt next to her chair, reached out and took her hands in his. "Elsa, your mother lied to you. You are a beautiful woman."
"My mother was the beautiful one. She should have been in the movies." And her mother had been absolutely lovely when she'd been younger. But she'd also been a cold woman who had had no time for her only child. Elsa had been raised by the maids and nannies that had come and gone through the years. The only one who had actually had time for her was her grandmother. "I'm not as beautiful as Mom."
"Oh, God, Elsa. If you could see yourself the way I do." His hands rose and slid over her hair, mapped the contours of her cheeks and lips, framed the shape of her chin between his fingers. His eyes traced every single line of her body, from head to toe. It didn't matter that she was sitting down. She swore she could see him drawing her form on the canvas in his head. His eyes lit up and the smile that spread across his face warmed her right down to her toes. "There's this sleek shine on your hair that catches and holds the eye. Your eyes are... so cold and yet so warm. The way you smile brightens your whole face. Then you have these amazing curves that invite a man's hands."
He tugged on her good hand and slowly, carefully, pulled her to her feet. To show her what he meant, his hands went straight to the curve of her hips. "You have such wonderfully long legs that look like they'd be strong. Any sane man who loves women would be out of his mind to not want them wrapped around his waist. There is this absolutely breath taking symmetry to your face that you just don't see on real people. And as if the exterior wasn't enough to grab a person's attention, you have this aura that surrounds you. Its made up of confidence and self-assurance. Its strong and bright and it pulses with life. You're beautiful inside and out. You're a living, breathing work of art."
She was blushing. She knew she was, could feel it in her cheeks. They were filled with heat. "That isn't me, Steve. I'm just a geeky, nerdy scientist who--" He brought a hand up and settled it against her cheek. Pressed his thumb against her lips to silence her.
"Come with me. Let me show you how beautiful I think you are," he urged. Pleasure and embarrassment raced through her. She should tell him no and go lay in bed for a while. But there was such an earnestly open and honest look on his face that she didn't have the heart to turn him down. She gave him a smile and allowed him to tow her after him, curious to see what he had planned.
They made their way to her bedroom, where he wordlessly positioned her in her favorite chair. Then he was gone in a flash, returning almost as quickly as he'd left with a sketch pad and a pencil in hand. He took a seat on the foot rest that was only inches from her. "Now just sit there. I'm going to show you, Elsa. I'm going to show you just how beautiful you are."
She said nothing, simply sat there and watched as he put pencil to paper. His hand moved as it traced a line across the paper. In the blink of an eye, he was lost in his drawing. The only sound was the slight scratch of the lead against the paper. The faintly harsh rasp of their breaths as they inhaled and exhaled. His entire focus was lost to what he was doing. And that was okay, because Elsa was lost in the perfection of his face.
~*~*~*~*~
Phoebe felt distinctly out of place in the terribly plush interior of the restaurant. It hadn't been her choice, though. Pepper had chosen their meeting place, as well as the time of the meeting, when she'd called to find out if Phoebe was available for a nice lunch. Phoebe had hated leaving the boys alone, but Happy had cheerfully volunteered to watch them for her. He'd also made sure that there had been a cab at the house to pick her up and take her to her luncheon. She wasn't sure if Tony would be pleased with her going off without a word to him, but she figured that lunch with Pepper would be forgiven.
The restaurant Pepper had picked had a club feel to it. It was done in rich, dark woods and deep pile carpets. The tables were covered with white linen cloths, the dishes were bone china, and cut crystal stemware sat at the head and to the left of each plate. There was real silverware next to her plate. And a small basket of bread rested in the center of the table, situated between two white taper candles in silver sticks. Pepper had said it was upscale, but Phoebe was sure that her pencil skirt in black and the gold silk blouse she'd put on were still not up to the establishment's high standards.
She glanced up to see the maitre d on his way over to the table with Pepper in tow. The man was smiling at her, talking animatedly as they moved between the tables. Pepper smiled in return, added the occasional comment, but otherwise seemed immune to the man's charm. After working so long for Tony, Phoebe couldn't blame her. Tony Stark was charm on two legs. "Your party, Miss Potts," the man said as he held Pepper's chair for her.
"Thank you, Raoul. I appreciate you taking care of Phoebe while she was waiting for me."
"My pleasure, Miss Potts. I'll send Tomas over to take your drink order," the man said before hurrying off. Presumably to find Tomas. Pepper took a few moments to situate herself, allowing Phoebe to take note of the crisp, expensive blouse she wore with her crisp, expensive business suit. The color scheme of the day seemed to be black with pale peach. The color should have clashed with her hair, but it didn't. She had the sides pulled back from her face, leaving a fringe of bangs to brush her eyebrows.
"Phoebe. Its good to see you. How are you doing?" Pepper asked, voice genuine and bright, a smile on her face.
Phoebe managed a bright, genuine smile in response to Pepper's own. "I'm doing well. A little tired but nothing that sleep won't cure. As soon as I can get some."
"Of course," Pepper nodded, then turned that smile on the waiter who had just stepped up to their table.
"Good afternoon, Miss Potts. What can I start you and your companion off with to drink today?" Tomas asked.
"I'd like a club soda," Pepper replied. Tomas, Phoebe noted, did not write it down. He turned his dark gaze her way.
"And for you, miss?"
"Do you have any herbal tea?" Phoebe asked, acutely aware of everyone and everything in the immediate area.
"We have several varieties to choose from. Do you have a preference?"
"Green tea, if you have it."
"Of course, miss. We have a lovely organic green tea. I'll go get those drinks started and be back shortly." Tomas flashed them a smile, then walked away.
"They seem to know you well here, Pepper," Phoebe commented, trying to relax into her seat. Her nerves were in knots and it wasn't entirely due to being away from Tex when he was still weak.
Pepper looked up from unrolling her silverware and waved a hand around the interior. "Tony used to come here frequently when he was playing at being the CEO of Stark Industries. I often accompanied him. Its a fabulous little place with wonderful food."
"Tony doesn't spend much time running his business?" Phoebe asked. This was surprising news. She'd gotten the impression from him that he liked to be hands on with his company.
Pepper smiled again, a look Phoebe was getting to know well. It was Pepper's patented 'I suffer because I'm Tony Stark's personal assistant' look. "Tony doesn't actually run Stark Industries. He leaves much of that to me. Final decisions are his. But I tend to handle most of the day to day stuff."
"Ah," Phoebe said. That explained quite a bit to her, actually. She might have said more, but Tomas returned with their requested drinks. After settling a china cup and a teapot before Phoebe and a glass of club soda on ice before Pepper, he let his gaze slide back and forth between them.
"Do you ladies know what you want to eat? Would you like to hear the specials?" he asked them.
"No, thank you," Pepper shook her head. She hadn't touched her menu since sitting down, but she looked up at Tomas all the same. "I want the Waldorf salad. And an order of the rosemary biscuits."
"Very good, Miss Potts. And for you, miss?" Tomas turned to Phoebe. She offered him a smile and let her gaze skim over the menu laying open before her.
"The salmon sounds delicious. Can I get that with steamed broccoli and garlic mashed potatoes?" Phoebe asked, one finger tapping the item on the menu.
"Of course, miss." Tomas scooped up the menus and gave a slight bow with his head, then slipped away without another word. As soon as he was gone, the two of them fell into idle chatter meant to pass the time. Phoebe knew that this wasn't what Pepper had asked her here for and that the woman would reveal her real reasons in her own time.
The idle chatter continued through their meal, with Pepper telling Phoebe a few stories about Tony that had them both laughing. They were stories meant to put Phoebe at ease, but they did little more than make her even more anxious than she'd been when she'd first arrived. There was a growing fear, one she couldn't shake, that Pepper was about to drop something horrible in Phoebe's lap and leave her to try and deal with it. That fear continued on through the meal and into the dessert that Pepper ordered for them, a very light and decadent Italian ice that left Phoebe hungry for more.
It was when Pepper was on her after lunch coffee, Phoebe sipping at more of her tea, that the other woman got to the reason she'd asked Phoebe to lunch. Sighing, she looked up at Phoebe and clasped her hands together before her. She gave Phoebe a look that was filled with deep concern. "I want to know how Tony's doing."
Phoebe blinked at the statement. That wasn't quite what she'd been expecting. "I'm sorry. I don't know that I understand what you're asking me, Pepper."
The redhead sighed and stirred her coffee, her hands seeking something to do out of nervous habit. She studied Phoebe for a while before something sad passed through her eyes. "You know that Tony and I were together for a while, don't you?"
"Yes. It was big news. It was all over the society section and in every single gossip magazine out there. As suddenly as it happened, it was over." Phoebe worked to keep her tone neutral and even. This was not a conversation she thought she should be having with Pepper. Especially since Phoebe appeared to be the woman du jour. How much did it hurt Pepper to smile and be nice to the woman who had taken her place?
"Tony and I had issues. But that never stopped me from caring about him. I was worried for a while that he would slide back into his old habits and patterns. And, for a while, he did. Then you came along and I saw a change in him. A good change. I've never seen him so focused on a person. Its a good thing. You can't imagine," Pepper explained quietly. "Thank you for that, by the way."
"I didn't do anything, really. Tony was the one who made the decision to change."
"Don't be so modest. Tony would never have changed if you hadn't kicked him in the butt," Pepper grinned at that. It was a genuine look that told Phoebe there were no hard feelings between her and Pepper. "He needed it. Deserved it." Her expression changed, grin sliding away into a faint frown. "I saw what happened in Central Park. Not all of it, of course. Aspects of it were deliberately left out by S.H.I.E.L.D. because it was information they didn't want the public to have. But I know enough to know that what happened was very big and very bad. And whatever it was, I have no doubts that it affected Tony in bad ways."
"I don't know how much I can tell you," Phoebe admitted. Not that she really knew a great deal about what had happened herself. Other than what she'd gone through, that is. But Pepper cared about Tony and she was worried about him. Phoebe felt she owed it to the other woman to tell her what she knew. Something inside said that Pepper would be a great ally to have. More than that, she'd been a great friend. Decision made, she let her eyes slide around the interior of the restaurant, absently taking note of the customers. Most of them were older and probably richer than God. Not richer than Tony. But still rich. She didn't see anyone who looked as if they might be working for Fury. That gave her the courage to take a chance. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base and the helicarrier were attacked. Both were... They're in ruins."
"Damn," Pepper sighed and sat back in her chair. "How bad was it?"
"There were hundreds injured. Dozens killed. I don't know exact numbers and I don't want to. Living through it once was bad enough. I don't want to relive it a second time." She couldn't help herself. She shuddered at the very idea.
"Which brings us back to my original question. How is Tony handling all this?"
"I'm not sure. He doesn't really tell me anything. But I think it bothers him more than he's willing to let on. I don't think he's sleeping much right now." Phoebe sighed and shook her head. "Then again, I'm not doing much of that myself. If I do, its because I've taken a pain pill before bed. Frankly, I'm worried about him."
"Tony isn't really big with sharing his thoughts and feelings. And even when he does, he doesn't make much sense. He tends to internalize everything. It isn't healthy for him." Pepper looked up at Phoebe, her eyes filled with raw pain and the tattered remnants of her feelings for Tony. "Do not let him shut himself off. Do whatever you have to do to get him to open up and talk. Don't let him let this fester. Nothing good can come of that."
The way Pepper talked, Phoebe got the feeling that the woman knew exactly what she was talking about. It sounded like she'd lived through Tony's internalizing of his problems before. Phoebe offered her a smile meant to reassure. "I'll do my best."
"That's all I can ask you to do," Pepper replied. The sigh she gave suggested that this was something that had been troubling her for a while. Probably since she'd seen the footage on the news.
With that last statement, Phoebe saw all of the tension she'd been feeling since Pepper's call sliding away like water off a duck's back. She offered the other woman a faint smile before sipping at the cooling cup of tea before her. "I have to admit, this wasn't exactly what I'd expected from this luncheon." She felt silly admitting it, but if she and Pepper were going to have any kind of relationship, she felt it was only prudent to be honest with the other woman.
"What did you think would happen here today?" Pepper asked, idly swirling her spoon through the remnants of her Italian ice.
"I was honestly afraid that you would come here and warn me off Tony, tell me to stay away from him. Something like that."
"You mean you thought I'd be the crazy ex-girlfriend," Pepper replied.
"It sounds horrible when you put it that way." Phoebe ducked her head and nodded. She felt embarrassed about it now. Pepper tossed her a grin and shook her head.
"No matter what my feelings for Tony, I know that he and I are over. And I can live with that. But I still care about him. Not just because he's my boss but because he's my friend. And my family. I don't want to see him hurt." It was subtle warning, one which Phoebe acknowledge with a slight incline of her head. "So I'm always going to have his best interests in mind. In the same vein, I don't want to see him hurt you, either. You're good for him in a way I haven't seen anyone be good for him. He needs it. He needs you. And I'm secure enough to accept that I'm not what he needs."
Phoebe smiled at her. "I will do my utmost to keep him healthy. And happy. And sane. But I'm probably going to need your help to do it."
The grin Pepper gave her then practically oozed evil. "That could be fun. And it would definitely drive Tony up the wall. I like it. This could be the start of a very beautiful friendship." The redhead saluted her with her club soda.
Phoebe sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I think I'd like that very much. I don't have many friends."
Pepper stared at her for a few seconds, then let her lips curl up in a truly evil smile. Without saying a word, she signaled Tomas for the check. When he arrived at the table, she pulled a credit card from her purse and offered it to him. He left without saying a word. "Well, then. I think we christen our new friendship,."
Phoebe wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "How?"
"I think we need to do a little shopping." Phoebe stared at the other woman. Oh, dear. Now why did that sound dangerous?
~*~*~*~*~
Miri stared up at the stone edifice and shook her head. This seemed an odd place to find Alex, but after trying her apartment and a few of the local gyms and even the shop her friend owned where the other woman went to work on cars and clear her head with no luck, this had been her last option. It had seemed a long shot, given the fact that Miri couldn't remember the last time Alex had gone to church. And yet, the GTO was pulled up to the curb. the bright purple paint job an unmistakable calling card.
She knew this was the Quinn family's church, because Alex had pointed it out to her once, many years ago. It was built like the old cathedrals of Europe but on a much smaller scale. Wooden doors barred the darkened interior from the bright rays of the sun while a small rose window sat just above them. The stone was weathered grey and smooth, the wooden doors dark with stain. Miri had a moment to wonder what Alex was doing here, then the pulled the large wooden panel open and stepped into the shadowed entry.
She passed through the one of three arches that opened into the church proper, footsteps silent on the faded green carpet that covered the floor between the rows of pews. Miri let her gaze sweep the place, taking note of the altar at the front of the church. It was decorated with white and green cloth, a pair of candles in giant silver sticks resting standing at either end. It looked like there was some kind of arrangement or something between the candles, but she wasn't sure what it was. The air was painted with the smell of incense and a faint, underlying odor of mustiness. Long stained glass windows ran up the walls on either side, while another rose window stood watch over the pulpit from the back wall. Under that window was Christ on his cross, hands and feet nailed down while he bled from several wounds.
She walked slowly, with a kind of reverence that she didn't use many other places, toward the front of the church. One side held the confessional booths. The other had a stand of candles in red glass votives. A casual glance showed her that there were two lit. And that was all.
She found Alex hunched over in a pew near the front, right in the open. It seemed an odd place for the other woman to sit given just how lapsed she'd let her faith get. Her head was bent, hair still caught up in a limp pony tail that suggested Alex might need to take a shower. Miri wondered at that, but shook the wonder off as she reached the pew and turned into it.
Alex was murmuring under her breath, hands clasped together before her. Praying. It was something of a shocking sight. Miri didn't think she'd ever seen her friend like this. This close, she could see that Alex was dirty, covered in grime and oil. She'd obviously come straight from the garage. Miri made a noise with her feet before taking a seat next to the other woman. Alex didn't look up at her. Didn't even stop praying. Well, wasn't this awkward? "Alex."
Her name saw the other woman stop praying, saw her lift her head to stare at Christ. She didn't let her gaze stray toward Miri at all. There was something gone from Alex's face that had always been there before, but Miri wasn't sure she could name it.
She let the silence fall and stretch between them, hoping that doing so would encourage Alex to talk. It didn't. When a minute or more had passed them by without a word being spoken, the other woman dipped her head again.
"Damn it, Alex. I'm--"
"Don't." Her voice was harsh and tired. Empty. Emotionless. "Just don't, Miri. It doesn't matter anymore. You were right."
That startled her. It wasn't often that Alex willingly admitted she'd been wrong about anything. "About what?"
The question brought her head up and Alex turned flat green eyes her way. "I'm a fucking coward. Happy? Good. Now go away."
God, the lack of anything in her friend's voice hurt. Miri couldn't ever recall seeing Alex like this before. Well, there'd been the time right after her first partner had been killed. But Miri had written that off to having been there when Stevenson had died. But this... This was something different. Miri didn't think it was entirely to do with Barton, either. Alex had been cold and distant since their fight. Frowning, Miri tried to remember just what had happened then. To be honest, she'd been so emotionally charged that she couldn't really recall what she'd said to Alex. Whatever it was, it seemed to have stuck. "Alex--"
"No, Miri. I told you. It doesn't matter anymore. Just go and leave me be. Its obvious that..." her words choked off on what Miri suspected was a sob. She took a moment to get herself back under control and Miri let her have it. Now that some of the worst danger had passed, she was willing to admit that she'd taken a good deal of her fear and anger out on the one person who would have understood better than anyone. Alex hadn't deserved that. "Recent events have made it obvious to me that everything I thought was good in my life is nothing but shit."
That was twice Alex had sworn inside the church. She heard Mary Magdelaine's voice in her head, chastising her daughter for her disrespect. And then there was the voice that told her there was something more going on here than simply Alex being hurt by their fight. More than Alex being worried about Clint even when she couldn't admit that she loved him. What had Miri missed?
"Surely it isn't all shit. You love your position at S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Do you know how much of my life has been a lie?" Alex asked. The question seemed to have nothing to do with Miri's statement, but if Alex was talking to her, she was willing to let the conversation go where it would. "I've lied to my parents for years about what I do. Which is only fair because it turns out that I've been lied to by the same people I've been lying about. Isn't that a kick in the head? Mitch's death was a sign. I was just too stupid to realize it at the time."
"Alex, what's going on here?"
"Go ask Natasha. I'm sure she'd be as happy to enlighten you as she was to enlighten me."
Okay. Miri didn't know what that meant, so she let it go. It seemed like a change of subject was in order. She tried a topic that she hoped Alex would warm to. "Clint's awake."
"Bully for him," Alex replied. If anything, her voice got colder and emptier.
"You saved his life, Alex. If you hadn't found him in that closet..." Miri trailed off.
The other woman shook her head and turned to look at Miri. "What makes you think any of this matters to me anymore? I told you before. He hates me. End of story. I'm glad he's okay. I'm glad he's going to be up and around to be a pain in someone else's ass. Woo. I did my fucking job. Just let it go. Even if I could admit to having feelings for him, I'm emotionally stunted. Remember?"
"I was out of my head with fear and worry, Alex. I didn't know what I was saying and I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for the truth, Miri. I'm just sorry that I didn't see it before. I'd have gone back to the motor pool and you could have had a partner who wasn't... me." Alex stopped and glanced toward the candles.
"Why would I want another partner? You're my best friend and you're a damned good partner," Miri told her. She'd seen Alex go through many things but she'd never seen her friend so hard on herself. Ever. Not even after Mitch Stevenson had been killed on that mission. Alex said nothing, simply dropped her gaze to her hands. Miri saw that they were covered with scabs, the knuckles bruised from abuse. There were spots that looked infected that Miri knew had come from the battle at the base. Those, along with the attitude and the way she looked, were hints as to some larger, deeper problem that Miri couldn't put her finger on. The clues were there. Miri just had to find them and put them together in the right way. "Alex, seriously. You're scaring me. Tell me what's going on here."
"Nothing is going on, Miri. I told you. I'm a fucking coward and my life is nothing but one long lie." Miri blinked at that. Alex thought she was a coward? What would make her think that? And how was her life a lie? None of this made any sense to Miri. Alex sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't come here to fight or join my pity party. And I just don't know when to quit. How about we talk about something else?"
Miri nodded, welcoming the subject change. "Can I share something with you?"
"Sure," Alex replied, making an honest effort to push everything aside so that she could give her attention to her friend. Miri could see it in the way she sat up straighter, in the way she unclenched her hands and forced them to relax.
"I... I'm afraid, Alex."
"Of what? I didn't think anything scared you."
She bit her lip, unsure how this topic of discussion was going to go over. Confusing as Alex's behavior was, she didn't want to set her friend off again. "Its Phil," she began softly.
"How is Coulson doing?" Alex asked, voice pleasantly curious. And empty. Still, it was better than having Alex rage at her for reasons Miri couldn't even begin to understand.
"He's alive. But it isn't looking good. He's still unconscious. The doctors are trying to be optimistic and cautious at the same time," Miri told her, snorting with the last of it. "I'm afraid he isn't going to wake up at all. Or, if he does, he won't be the same person. I don't know what to do."
"Miri, this is Coulson we're talking about. He's a bad ass son of a bitch. There is nothing in this world that can stop him. Gods bow down to him. He'll be okay. Better than ever." There was no sarcasm in Alex's voice, just a deep and sorrowed sincerity. "I'm glad you found someone. And I'm glad he makes you happy."
"You could be happy, too," she said quietly. She watched as Alex went tense. She expected another tirade. But the other woman simply shrugged one shoulder and shook her head.
"Its over and done with, Miri. The ship sailed. And its better that way. After Mitch, after I got him killed... I just can't risk it. With anyone. No matter how good they are. I can't live with myself now." The quiet tone of her voice said that she was done talking about it. Miri sighed and wondered at her stubbornness, but decided to respect Alex's wishes anyway.
"You really think he's going to be okay?" she asked softly.
"This is Coulson we're talking about. The man who could kill you before you knew he was there. With a kitten and nothing else. Of course he'll be okay. Why wouldn't he be? He's got you to come back to, doesn't he?" Again, Alex's voice was filled with the same soft sorrow she'd heard before. Miri reached for Alex, intent on hugging her. But the woman scooted further down the pew before Miri could touch her. That stung, but she let it go. There was something very seriously wrong with Alex. She just didn't know what it was.
"Thanks, Alex," she said instead. And she meant it.
Alex nodded her head. "I mean it, Miri. He's lucky. He'll come back to you."
She could have kicked herself because tears started falling then. Alex glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, then scooted back toward her and carefully wrapped an arm around Miri's shoulder. Miri leaned into Alex's hold and settled her head on the other woman's shoulder. She knew, somehow, that this didn't mean things were okay between them yet. Far from it. Miri had hurt Alex with their fight and it would take more than this to fix that. Miri would find someway to do it, too. She'd find some way to bridge the gap between them and make it all better.
When the tears dried, Alex withdrew her arm and slid away. She went back to staring at her hands, making Miri wonder if they hurt from all the abuse the other woman had heaped on them. She thought she saw a couple of burns amidst the scrapes and scabs and grease. That reminded her. "Thank you for lighting a candle for him, Alex. It means a lot."
"I'm not completely heartless." The words came out harsh and filled with anger. Somehow, Miri suspected they were meant more for Alex than for her. She wondered at that. The other woman had always had her moments of self-loathing. Being brought up Catholic had done that to her. But this session took the cake. She'd never seen it this bad before. Alex sighed and idly rubbed at her knuckles with her fingers. A wince let Miri know that they did indeed hurt. "He's still a human being and he had the good taste to fall in love with you."
Miri wanted to ask her again what was wrong, but she reined the urge in. The moment the question was out, Alex would go back to angry and defensive. That was the last thing she wanted. This was the first she'd seen Alex since the mission and she was loathe to let the other woman leave. She'd been so concerned about Phil that she hadn't realized she missed Alex until she'd realized that she hadn't seen Alex since the mission. A few carefully phrased questions to Maria Hill had gotten her answers and none of them had been happy ones.
She'd been told that Alex had been there that night with her reports. Maria hadn't been in on the short meeting the two of them had had, but she'd seen Alex come and go. There'd been an odd, angry sense of purpose in her stride when she'd entered Fury's office. When she'd left, there'd been more anger. Less sense of purpose. Maria had told her that she was sure Alex had been on the verge of tears when she'd breezed past on her way out. That didn't sound like Alex at all. And maybe, had Miri not been so wrapped up in Phil's condition, she might have noticed that there was something wrong with a woman she claimed as her best friend.
"He'll be okay, Miri. You watch." Alex's words brought her out of her thoughts. It was to find that the other woman was coming to her feet. "I have to get back to the garage. I'm ripping a Fifty three Buick apart for Greg."
She didn't wait for Miri to say goodbye, just turned and fled toward the exit.
Miri didn't move for a while, thinking everything over. She wished she was as sure about Phil as Alex. And she wished she knew what the hell was going around the other woman's head. She considered asking Mary Magdelaine what she knew about Alex's past relationships, because she was more than certain that much of what was bothering Alex was rooted in the man's death. But asking Mary Magdelaine would require an explanation that she didn't think would go over well. Because Mary Magdelaine would start worrying about Alex and then the mother hen would be into Alex's business in the blink of an eye.
But that didn't mean she didn't have some place to start. Alex had said to talk to Natasha. That the Black Widow would know what was going on. Miri planned on doing just that. If Natasha had done anything to hurt Alex... Miri sighed and shook her head.
Hell. Dealing with Natasha was the easy part. The hard part would be finding a way to get Alex and Clint back together. Because it was more than obvious that Alex was lost without him in her life. Even if she claimed she didn't love him and he was nothing more than a pain in the ass. It was the least Miri could do for her.
Decision made, beginnings of a plan of attack made, Miri rose and started to go. But she stopped and turned back to stare at the rows of candles. Why the hell not? Miri closed the distance to the table, lifted a little stick to one of the lit candles. It flared to life with flame easily and Miri used it to light a couple candles of her own. One for Phil, done so with a silent prayer that he would be okay. She lit a second for Alex. Rolled her eyes heavenward. "If you can shed some light on all this, I'd appreciate it. I can use all the help I can get."
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I continue to worry about Alex. She's in a very dark place right now . . . looks familiar. However, Miri's over her exhaustion and seems determined to get her friend back. Between Alex and Phil, she's certainly got her hands full. I look forward to her 'discussion' with Natasha.
*two thumbs up*
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Alex's mood will be explained away. eventually. and hopefully after the fact, she'll be back to her old, bitchy self. we shall have to see. and yeah. i look forward to that conversation, too.
glad you enjoyed, hon.
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Poor Clint...loved getting his mental take on things, albeit as he acclimates himself back to the world of the conscious. ;D) And the visit from Tony was great. Glad it was Tony that stopped by - he seems to be the perfect choice. :D)
Steve and Elsa...well, uh...LOVE? lol. Deja vu with a twist. ;D) So sweet and just...*sigh* worthy...my hero. ;D)
Phoebe and Pepper's convo was awesome too - I was curious as to how that would go down too and I'm kinda wondering what kind of things their little shopping trip will produce. LOL.
And Alex and Miri...holy crap. The angst just keeps on comin'! This was lovely and heartwrenching and angsty and just...wow. The payoff for having these two happy is going to be SO awesome...can't wait! They deserve happiness, both of 'em. :D)
Yep, I'm a happy camper tonight with more of this story digested! xxooo! :D)
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yeah. Steve and Elsa are rather deja vu-ish. and you are just so damned easy, it isn't even funny.
i really liked the conversation with Phoebe and Pepper because it gave me a chance to explain why Tony and Pepper aren't together anymore. it also gave me a chance to show how Pepper and Phoebe got to be good friends. i suspect that Pepper will like anyone who can keep Tony's ass in line. in so much as he'll let them do it.
Alex and Miri... yeah. Alex got kind of whiny and bitchy and defensive with me. i had to fight her back to being human. it wasn't easy. hopefully, they can get things sorted out and squared away.
glad you liked it, honey.
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Good work. I'll be looking forward to reading more. (I'd probably say more but with my luck my connection would crap out just as I try to post.)
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again. glad you enjoyed. hopefully i'll have more soon.
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Steve and Elsa... girl, bravo! I love her standing up for herself even if, really she should be resting. But very nice across the board there! And AWWWW! My huge soft spot for Artist!Steve is showing! <3
There's a sense of karmic justice from the beginning of the chapter that the two most important people in Tony's life are discussing him without him there. I do love Phoebe and Pepper's interaction!
Holy shit, she actually admitted it... O_O Sorry, I love this bit with Miri and Alex. They're both far more vulnerable than we've seen them and despite the rift there, obviously they still need each other. Alex's black mood though... I do hope she finds her way out of the dark!
Great work, hun. Seriously! Can't wait to see how this is all going to come together.
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i love that Elsa has a backbone even though she can be flighty at times. i think, given the nature of her home life when she was growing up, it became a necessary skill set. yes. she should be resting. and she knows it. yeah. i've kind of got a soft spot for Artist!Steve, myself. had to get it in somehow.
isn't it just completely awesome that its Pepper and Phoebe gossiping about Tony? i like the idea of Pepper asking Phoebe for updates because she knows she won't get them from Tony, even though doing so means facing the woman who kind of took her place. and i love that Phoebe has much different ideas in mind when it all starts. i also love how it all evolves into a real, true friendship. Tony is in such trouble now.
who admitted what? Alex saying she's a coward? or Miri admitting that she doesn't know what to do if Phil isn't okay? i kind of love this part, too. i think this scene here shows exactly what their friendship is, how it works and why it works. even though they're in the middle of their own shit, they can still support one another. when this part started, i was worried Alex was going to ruin it all with her attitude. but she managed to pull her head out of her ass long enough to be what Miri needed. a shoulder to lean on. hopefully Alex's mood will lift. eventually. we'll just have to see.
i'm so glad you enjoyed this, bb. i can't wait to see how everything resolves itself, either!