The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!
Chapter Twenty Four: Visits
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

"Elsa, honey." The words came just after there was a knock on the door and just before the door opened. Steve stuck his head into the room, but only his head, and offered her a tentative smile. Elsa lifted a brow, made sure her frown was screwed on tight, and crossed her arms over her chest. No small feat for the arm in the cast. "Aw, don't be this way, Elsa. I said I was sorry."

"You banned me from my own lab. I can't go to the bathroom without letting you know. I wouldn't be surprised if you were standing guard outside the door like I'm some government enemy under lock down. I'm going to be this way until the next ice age."

Steve tried throwing her a bright smile. She glared it down in two seconds flat. Just because she'd decided to attempt one stinking experiment, and it hadn't even been a difficult one that would have required a lot of movement, he was treating her like Public Enemy Number One. It wasn't fair in the slightest that he didn't even have a mark to show he'd been in that crash and she had to wear the damned cast for at least another three or four weeks. He was nuts if he thought one of his super sexy smiles was going to melt the ice on her heart.

Okay. So it melted the ice just a little.

She firmed up her frown and glared harder at him. "Unless you're here to bring me my gruel or to allow me my one hour of sunshine in the yard or to deliver my repeal, you can just march right back out there and park your butt against the wall."

He sighed and shook his head. "I just came in to let you know you have a visitor."

The news perked her up a little bit, but she didn't allow herself to show her eagerness. "I wasn't aware I had a visitor's area. Did you get the glass dividers set up? Will you have to give me a phone with which I can speak to my visitor?"

Steve did a good job of ignoring her less than pleasant manner. "I thought the two of you might sit in the living room. I'll make some tea for you. And I had an order of those cookies you like so much sent to the house. The ones from that upscale bakery. You can share a couple of those, can't you?"

Damn him, he knew exactly how to kill a perfectly good bad mood. She wasn't ready to let him off the hook yet. She tightened her glare. "I'll think about it. And don't you dare go thinking that ordering in a dozen of those decadent double fudge cookies with peanut butter chips in them will make me forgive you. I'm not that easy, Captain Rogers," she added the last with a prim expression on her face.

Steve smiled, damn it. A real, genuine smile that said he knew she was only putting on a show of temper. Why couldn't she stay mad at him? "Of course not," he replied, shooting for solemn and missing by a mile. "Would you like some help?"

She bristled at his solicitous nature, merely an act because she wasn't ready to let him know she forgave him for apparently having more sense than she did. "No, thank you. I'll manage on my own," she sniffed. The thin blanket she'd had spread across her legs was tossed aside and forgotten, then she slowly worked her way off the bed. She noted that while Steve had moved close enough to make a grab for her if she lost her footing and fell, he was far enough away that he wasn't crowding her. She appreciated that he was trying to let her do for herself.

Her ribs were still tender, so it wasn't like she could just slide out of bed and be on the go. She had to carefully ease her way off the mattress lest she make a misstep and jar her ribs into throbbing in time with the samba or the rumba. It didn't help that her casted arm was a dead weight that she kept against her chest as she slipped over the side. When she was on her feet and balanced, she headed for the door.

Steve kept close to her, there in case she slipped or anything. That was something for which she was deeply grateful. If she fell now, she was sure she'd not only break her ribs but she just might break her other arm. Moving was getting easier, but it was still a touchy because her ribs hadn't healed enough to allow full range of movement yet. She still had the odd moment when pain would leave her practically in tears. Most of the time, though, she could forget about it. Which might be why Steve was keeping such close tabs on her, come to think of it.

She stepped into the living room and stopped, blinking in surprise at her visitor. Astrid was settled primly on the blush colored sofa, hands fisted together and resting on her knees. She was gazing around the living room with a kind of wide eyed stare that suggested she wasn't used to the level of comfort that Elsa lived in. A quick glance showed her that Steve hadn't brought out the cookies yet. It was highly likely that he was waiting to do that until after he got her settled.

Elsa let her lips curl up into a genuine smile. A second or two later, Astrid's gaze landed on her. Steve's hand on her back, Elsa crossed the room to where the other woman sat. Steve's hands were there to help her down onto the couch, a move that was still proving annoyingly difficult. When she was seated, he leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. "I'll go make some tea."

He was gone before Elsa could thank him.

Astrid's gaze was intense as it ran over Elsa's entire body from head to toe. After two weeks of healing, many of the bruises and scrapes were gone. There was still a slight knot on her head and, of course, the cast. And there was still a dark smear of color staining her ribs. Those bruises had yet to fade. Elsa offered her a wide, genuine smile. "I'm fine, Astrid. The arm is the worst of my injuries."

Astrid's cheeks colored, a faint hint of pink blossoming in them. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I wanted to come and see how you were. I hope I'm not intruding or anything."

"Trust me. You're not intruding. Your visit is most welcome. Steve can't keep me in bed if I have a visitor," Elsa commented. It earned her a wide eyed stare from the other woman and prompted a soft chuckling noise that she'd learned to give instead of a full laugh. The first time she'd done that... Yeah. It hadn't been pretty. Then she realized how it had to have sounded and it was her turn to blush. "He thinks I need to do nothing but rest. Which gets really boring. So you're not intruding and I'm glad you're here."

"You're sure you're okay?" Astrid asked, her shoulders relaxing just a little. Elsa hadn't realized how tense she was until then. She offered the other woman a broad smile.

"I'm fine, Astrid. Really. I'll heal up. You can't even tell Steve got hurt. Stop beating yourself up about it," she assured the other woman gently.

Astrid smiled, a strained kind of look, and opened her mouth to say something else. Except Steve stepped into the room at that exact moment. So Astrid closed her mouth and watched as he crossed toward them. He was carrying a tray with the tea service on it, as well as a plate of the decadent cookies he'd mentioned to her earlier.

He seemed at home playing nurse maid to her, something she marveled at more than once over the past couple of weeks. He drew nearer them and smiled, warm and inviting and genuine, before lifting the plate of cookies and setting it down on the table before them. Then he made a show of arranging tea cups and saucers, a bowl of sugar cubes, a small pitcher of creamer, a plate of lemon slices, and a pot filled with steaming tea before them. He didn't pour tea, but it was a close thing. She could see he wanted to. He left them with another smile, retreating into the kitchen so that they had privacy.

"How are you doing?" Elsa asked before Astrid could work herself up again. The woman seemed surprised that she asked, blinking at her a couple times before replying.

"Its still kind of hard. I've pretty much kept to myself. I've mostly been working around my place and spending time with Thor when he's not doing something super secret for S.H.I.E.L.D. I wanted to go to work, but Mr. Stark showed up at my door the day after we all met in your hospital room and told me that he wanted me to take some time off. With pay. I... don't understand it."

"I'm sure Phoebe told him everything that's been going on. No matter what you think, you were through something just as traumatic as the rest of us. Not all scars are visible, Astrid," Elsa replied. That earned her a look from the other woman.

"But nothing bad happened to me," Astrid protested. Elsa sighed and shook her head.

"Loki kidnapped you and he forced you to watch bad things happen to everyone else. I think that qualifies as trauma. You may not have suffered physical damage, but there is more than one kind of trauma, Astrid." Elsa watched the other woman absorb that. She thought it might be a kindness to try and change the subject. "How are you and Thor getting on?"

The question brought a smile to Astrid's face, the look soft and light. "We're getting on really well," she told Elsa. Then the smile slid away and she frowned. "I think Director Fury is punishing him for not being there when everyone needed him. He's been down at temporary S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters every day since the crash."

Elsa grinned. "He is in Fury's employ. I'm sure the man has him doing those tasks that us mere mortals can't do without help."

"I wish Fury would stop punishing Thor for what happened. It was my fault. I'm the one who convinced him to leave his post," Astrid said. They were back to that again. Elsa sighed and reached out to pick up the tea pot. Except her ribs decided to remind her that they were, in fact, still cracked and she was forced to set the pot down or risk dropping it. Breaking it wasn't an option as it had belonged to her grandmother. Astrid must have seen pain flicker across her face because she reached out and picked up the pot, then poured tea for the two of them. Elsa allowed Astrid the opportunity to add whatever she wanted to her tea before getting the ball rolling.

"Thor works for Fury. The man was given an order. He failed to obey it. You can say it isn't Thor's fault all you want, but the truth of the matter is he disobeyed orders. And in doing so, people got hurt and killed. Fury is within his rights to do whatever he needs to where Thor is concerned." Elsa made sure her tone was gentle. It was plain to see that Astrid had been beating herself up about the whole thing since it had happened.

"But if I hadn't distracted him," she protested.

Elsa held her hand up and shook her head. "That doesn't matter. Thor ultimately made the choice to leave. You didn't make it for him."

"Alex and Miri hate me for it," Astrid returned.

"Alex and Miri don't hate you for it. I'm sure they'll forgive you. You have to understand that they'd just been through hours of hell when you last saw them. Not only had they spent time fighting against HYDRA back on the base, they'd both led rescue teams into the wreckage of the helicarrier. How were they supposed to act? I heard that Alex found Clint and Miri found Agent Coulson. How would you have reacted had it been Thor hurt and you were the one who'd found him? Try putting yourself in their shoes for just a little while."

Astrid stared at Elsa for a few seconds. It was easy to see the wheels turning in the woman's mind because everything went spinning through her eyes as she thought it. So Elsa could tell when Astrid finally got what it was that she'd been trying to explain. "Oh. So you think they'll eventually forgive me for all of this?"

Okay. So maybe she hadn't totally gotten it yet.

"It isn't your fault that Loki kidnapped you. It isn't your fault that you had no way of telling them what was going on. It isn't your fault that HYDRA summoned Loki to them and convinced him to help them do their dirty work. None of what happened is your fault." Elsa made sure to put stress on the last sentence so that Astrid knew she was serious. "Alex and Miri are smart. Once all of the emotions settle down and they get back to normal, they'll figure it out."

Astrid took a sip of her tea as she considered Elsa's words. When she was done, she set the cup down and reached for one of the cookies Steve had brought out. "Why aren't you mad at me like they are?"

Elsa sighed and stared hard at Elsa. How could someone have such a brilliant mind and yet be so clueless about things? Oh, wait. Didn't that kind of describe Elsa? Best not to answer that question. "I'm not mad at you because there was never any reason to be mad at you," Elsa replied gently. "Everything that happened only did so because HYDRA planned it and Loki helped them attain their goals. You were an innocent bystander in the whole thing, regardless of what you may or may not have discovered. Loki used you. Just like he used HYDRA. His only concern was his goal of hurting his brother. As far as he was concerned, you were a means to an end. You had no personal stake in what happened to everyone and there was no way you could have stopped it."

She could tell by looking at Astrid's face that the other woman didn't want to believe her. There was something in her eyes that said she wasn't buying anything Elsa told her. She frowned and went searching for an explanation that Astrid would believe. But something slid across her face, crept through the depths of her eyes, that stopped Elsa in her tracks. Astrid looked at her, a steady and unsettling look, and shook her head.

"We won't go home if we can't find some way to fix this, will we?" It was Astrid's voice and yet it wasn't. Elsa blinked a time or two before it finally clicked with her. Home. Sues. How could she have forgotten?

Cat rose to the surface and used Elsa's mouth to frown, wondering how who she was could have slipped her mind. Was that typical? She wasn't sure because this was only her second time to be sucked into one of these things. Maybe she could ask someone. Daz would probably be the best bet, since she had the most experience with the whole mess.

Her eyes darted toward the doorway to the kitchen, a quick glance to ensure that it was closed and they had privacy. When she spoke, she kept her voice low. "I don't know. It could be one of the problems we're here to fix." The more she thought about it, the more she believed it to be the case. "If we weren't supposed to fix it, we would have gone home by now. Wouldn't we have?"

"Probably," Gin replied in Astrid's voice. Then she frowned and shook her head. "How do we get those two back on speaking terms with Astrid?"

"I don't know. Steel toed boot to the head?" she suggested, only half joking. It brought a smile to the other woman's lips. And just like that, the moment was past. Cat slipped away, leaving Elsa in full control. Gin allowed Astrid to replace her and the two of them went on with their discussion as if the interruption had never taken place.

~*~*~*~*~

Thor was there when Astrid arrived home. He was kind of sprawled across the couch like a giant lap blanket, one arm dangling off the edge of the cushion while the other covered his face. He'd stripped out of his shirt and kicked off his shoes, leaving him in just his jeans. He didn't stir when she shut the door, letting her know he was sleeping. So she tiptoed past him and headed for her home office.

"Hail, Astrid," Thor's voice came, slightly muffled by his arm, and stopped her in her tracks. She turned to see him slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. His gaze found hers, blue eyes sliding over her silently. When his gaze met hers, he smiled that blinding smile of his and melted her heart. "Come sit with me and tell me of your visit."

He held one hand out toward her, a silent encouragement for her to join him on the couch. She went without protest, her intent to tinker forgotten by the look in his eyes. She slid her hand into his and allowed him to pull her down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and settled them both back against the couch. "How is Elsa? And Steve?"

"She's doing okay. Still sore and moving a little slow. But she looks so much better than she did when I last saw her." Thor nodded as if he'd expected such news. "Steve looks like nothing happened to him. It was kind of weird."

Thor smiled at that but said nothing further. Instead, he dragged her into his lap so that she was staring him directly in the eye. She knew the look he wore, had seen it frequently since he'd rescued her from Loki's castle or whatever. Astrid offered him a faint smile, then leaned forward so she could press her lips to his. His hands crushed her against his chest while his mouth took hers with some force. She didn't protest. It was an affirmation and as soon as he was sure she was there, safe in his arms, he would soften his caresses and make love to her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Five minutes later, his lips gentled against hers while his hands sought out the straps on her overalls. When he'd first met her, he hadn't understood why she'd worn such garments. But now he loved them because they were so easy to get off. His fingers made quick work of the things that held the straps in place, unhooking them from around the gold buttons. Then he lifted her until she stood, legs planted on either side of his thighs. He held her waist and watched as she lifted her feet, one at a time, to kick the offending article of clothing off and away.

His hands reached for her panties, slowly tugging them down until he got them to her knees. She lifted her legs again, one at a time, and allowed him to finish tugging them off. They joined the overalls she'd been wearing on the floor. Astrid slowly lowered herself until she was kneeling over him. Her hands went to the waist of his jeans and began working the buttons loose. At the same time, he pulled her shirt up. She had to let go of his jeans so that he could drag it up over her head, then his hands were tackling the clasp on her bra.

He rose up, one arm locked around her, and rid himself of his jeans. When he settled back down on the couch, the arm around her back kept her from sitting down. The fingers of his other hand slid between her thighs and gently began stroking at her flesh. Astrid sighed, her hands seeking out his shoulders, and closed her eyes against the rush of sensation that poured through her.

She'd learned that the nights when he was most insistent, like tonight, were nights ending days where something hard and horrible had happened. She didn't bother to ask him what was troubling him because she knew he wouldn't tell her. There were some things he wouldn't burden her with, he'd told her. She respected that and simply allowed him to guide their encounter. Anytime he was this impatient, he would always make it up to her later. He would spend hours exploring her body, bringing her to the heights of pleasure time and again before even considering relieving himself.

A sigh bubbled up out of her throat when his finger slipped between her lips to stroke up inside of her. She couldn't stop the way her hips rocked into his questing digits. Nor could she hold back the little whimpers of need and pleasure that found their way up from the very depths of her. Thor murmured to her softly, telling her that she was beautiful and that he loved the way she felt against him. Around him. On top of him. His voice, deep and husky, combined with his thumb and fingers to bring her to the edge in the blink of an eye. She was so close. So very close.

His hand pulled away, leaving her with an empty feeling. But that didn't last long. The arm that held her urged her to lower herself down. She did so, moving slowly under his guidance, until she felt the head of his erection push against her nether lips. It found its way between them, pressed up into her as he pulled her down onto his lap. He didn't stop until he was fully buried within her body.

She settled herself, legs bent and pressed up against the outside of his thighs and hands resting on his shoulders. His hands were on her waist, simply holding her while his gaze ate her alive, skimming slowly up and down her length. After a few moments, he bent her back until he could capture one of her nipples in his mouth. She hissed with pleasure when his teeth closed over it and bit down. Her back arched, pressing more of her breast to his face. Pressing more of his cock inside of her.

His hands climbed up her back, fingers tracing the line of her spine, and into her hair. He twined his hands around the length of her tresses and tugged, gently canting her head back on her shoulders. Then he lifted away from her nipple and slowly kissed his way up her chest, along the line of her throat, over her chin to her lips. The minute he pressed their mouths together, his hands drifted back down to her hips and curled around them.

With the support gone from her back, Thor eased them into an upright position without ever taking his mouth from hers. His hands tightened on her hips and lifted them. Pulled them down. At the same time, his hips thrust up, driving his erection into her. She fed a sigh into his mouth at the feel of him pulling out. Pushing in. The friction the move created. The tension that sprang to life deep in the pit of her belly.

Astrid dragged her mouth away to gasp for breath, slid her hands up into his hair. Wrapped her fists around it. Pulled. Thor groaned, his hips bucking up into hers with force. She hissed her pleasure again, feeling his thrust all the way up into her belly like the explosion of a bomb.

Thor measured his stokes, kept his pace slow and almost lazy. Each time he filled her, it was like having tiny nuclear warheads going off inside of her. An almost orgasm that left her hungry for more, in dire need of the actual event. His hands on her hips kept her from grinding down against him, a lesson he'd learned the first time they'd done this. He liked to keep it slow. Like to withhold her orgasm from her until she was in such a frenzied state that a mere puff of his breath against her clit would see her breaking apart in thousands of tiny, glittering pieces.

She knew it was possible because he'd done it before.

His hips rolled and swiveled, circling his cock inside of her. Astrid moaned, her eyes slipping shut as electric sensation shot through her. Thor closed the distance between them again, wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked at it. His hips stilled for a moment, her body fit snugly against his own. He plied his tongue to the rigid peak, lapping at it gently until she shivered in his hold.

"Hold to me, Astrid. Do not let go," Thor whispered, the words bursting hot and moist across her skin. She didn't question him, simply wrapped her arms around his neck. When his body shifted, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Then he was standing and she was still impaled by his glorious shaft and new sensations swirled through her.

He moved, one leg pushing forward to allow him a step. It shifted him inside of her. She whimpered with need, the tension pulling so tight that she felt like she'd snap. He said nothing, simply halted and leaned down to catch her lips for a quick, breath stealing kiss.

Each step jarred her on him, made her whimper and moan and silently beg for more. She used coarse, colorful language as she demanded he let her come. Each statement drew a chuckle from his throat, but that was all. She wanted to curse his parentage, but her had no mind left with which to do so. She could do little but cling to him and beg softly for more.

Almost without warning, the softness of her mattress was at her back, Thor's weight pressing down on her from above. She opened her eyes to find him watching her. The shadows she'd seen in his eyes before were gone now, consumed by blue flames of passion and need. She smiled up at him, a silent encouragement to continue what he'd started, before lifting her head to take his mouth in a heated kiss.

He settled himself on top of her, planted his hands in the mattress. Thrust forward. Astrid cried out, a sound of deep pleasure and the slightest bit of pain. He thrust again, milking another cry from her throat. "Please. More."

He gave her a look at the soft plea, eyes filled with uncertainty. They'd discussed this before. She knew that she could never take his full strength, but that didn't mean she was fragile. She'd finally managed to convince him of that, but there were times when he seemed to forget and wanted to get her assurance that she would be okay. She smiled at him, nodded her head and tightened her legs at his waist. Thor smiled down, then bent his head and took her lips.

He gave her more.

His thrusts came hard and fast. A steady rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. She clung to him, hands twisted about his hair and legs locked at his waist. Each stroke drove fire deep into her belly. Each withdrawal brought sweet friction boiling to the surface. She was lost in the sensations being given to her by his body.

She panted in his ear while his mouth worked along the line of her shoulder, pressing soft, gentle kisses to her flesh in a silent apology for being so selfish in his pleasure giving. She stroked her hands through his hair to let him know it was okay, that she understood. That she didn't blame him. Because she knew that he'd make it all up to her later, when she'd had time to rest and perhaps sleep. He'd be gentle and tender and utterly giving of himself. But for now, he needed this and she wanted to give it to him.

She whispered to him, speaking her native Norwegian. She felt the effect it had on him, felt him shudder right down to his bones. His thrusts came faster and harder. Her body welcomed his each and every time, tried to hold him to it, reluctantly let it go. She could feel him moving closer and closer to his orgasm in the way his hips occasionally missed a beat. In the way his cock swelled and twitched. In the way his breaths came in harsh, abrupt gasps. So she coaxed him to let go, convinced him to give himself to her.

He groaned, the sound long and low in his throat, when he shoved himself deep and held himself there. Filled her with his seed. She held him for the several long minutes that it took him to regain control of himself. And she smiled at the expression he gave her, his eyes and mouth telling her that he was so sorry for leaving her behind. She opened her mouth to speak, but he stole a quick kiss, then pushed up on one hand.

His free hand reached between them so that his fingers could slide over her clit. Each time he made one of those short, shallow thrusts meant to milk the last of his orgasm from him, his fingers would stroke over her clit with a sure touch that pulled soft cries from between her lips. Four thrusts later, four careful passes of his fingers, and the tension inside of her snapped. Astrid's back arched, her eyes snapping shut while her mouth fell open to allow her own cry out of her throat.

The world went white, then splintered into a rainbow of colors. And those only grew brighter and more intense when she felt his tongue lick over the sensitive nubbin. When his mouth closed over her and sucked. Hard.

Astrid finally came back to herself to find that she was cradled against Thor's chest, both of their bodies stretched out on the mattress of her bed. He'd pulled the blankets up over them and one hand idly drew patterns against the skin of her arm. She smiled and snuggled closer. "Wow."

"Wow?" he asked, his tone filled with curiosity.

"Yeah. Wow."

"Is wow good or bad?"

"Wow is very, very good." She sighed and drew a breath into her lungs. Already she felt heavy and sleepy. He always did that to her.

"Good," he replied, offering her a chuckle. "You were wow yourself."

She swore she could feel him smiling.

~*~*~*~*~

Miri used her card key to let herself into the file room. The files should have been destroyed in the assault on the base, but they hadn't even been on the premises. For some reason, they'd never been transferred to the file room on base. Or maybe there had never been an order to transfer them. Maybe the idea had always been to keep all the paper versions of everyone's files some place other than on base. Whatever. She wasn't going to waste time pondering it as it wasn't important.

There were no guards because no one without the right clearance level got into this room. No one got into the hall leading up to this room without having the right clearance level. She found it kind of odd that, for all that S.H.I.E.L.D. had updated and computerized their files, there was still a large room filled with actual paper files in musty old manila file folders. She had a sneaking suspicion that there were things in the paper files that never made it into the computerized file. And even though the events that Alex had been talking about were just ten years old, not so far back that all of the information wouldn't be on the computers, she wanted to see the paper file. Wanted to read what people had written that hadn't made it into the final accounting. Because there was always a final accounting.

Rows upon rows of metal filing cabinets awaited her. It would have been a daunting task if she hadn't known exactly when it had happened. Exactly where the file in question would be. Strolling up one aisle, identical to all the others, Miri made her way toward her goal. She knew these cabinets backward and forward, having spent a lot of time in here on other assignments. And even if she didn't, the distraction would be welcome. She needed something to keep her mind busy. Away from the problems that lurked in the shadows.

It had been a couple of weeks since the fight. A couple of weeks since her world had nearly shattered. She and Alex had put aside their differences long enough to destroy one entire HYDRA base and anyone they found on it. Upon their return, Alex had put in for time off and had disappeared without a word. To anyone. Having seen Alex at church, Miri likely wouldn't have worried about the other woman. But Mary Magdelaine had called her, concerned because her daughter hadn't called her in weeks, hadn't answered her phone. Hadn't answered her door when the Quinn family had gone to try and find out what was going on.

Such actions were so unlike the other woman that Miri had been forced to wonder just how well she really knew her friend.

Friend. That word sat like a stone on Miri's tongue. Some friend she'd been. She'd torn into Alex in her grief and worry. In her fear. Not that Alex hadn't given as good as she'd gotten, but... It was Alex. She and Miri had gone through so much together. They should have weathered this storm with a sad smile and a sense of sorrow that they'd have hidden behind bad jokes. But they hadn't. They'd done the worst thing they could have. They'd allowed themselves to be ripped apart. Alex's attitude during their conversation at the family church had told Miri that she hadn't been forgiven for the fight and that there was something deeper going on. She'd tried calling Alex after speaking to Mary Magdelaine, but those calls had gone unanswered. All she'd gotten was Alex's voice mail. And that had worried her. Enough that she'd started thinking.

Now that Phil was doing better, now that she knew that Fury had known almost from the beginning about their affair, she could think clearly. And that was part of the problem. She hadn't been thinking that day. She'd been feeling. Frightened and lost. Because Phil had been hurt so badly and the word going around was that it wasn't something he'd survive. She'd wanted to go sit with him, had wanted to go hold his hand and let him know she was there. That she loved him. That she didn't want him to leave her. But she hadn't been able to. Her reasons had been sound. Even if they had sounded hollow in her own ears. She'd accepted those reasons.

However, with the crisis over and her mind once again capable of focusing on work, Miri had realized that she'd only heard what Alex had told her that day without comprehending it. She'd never known that Alex had been involved with her first partner. Mitch Stevenson. Miri had known him, but only in passing. She knew that he'd been a dedicated agent right up until his death. And she'd known that he and Alex were on a mission when that had happened. It seemed that was all she'd known. Upon realizing that there was more than what Alex had said, Miri'd realized that she needed to know the whole story.

She found the files she was seeking without trouble. One on Mitch Stevenson, thick as a sapling tree, that no doubt held every piece of paper they had on him. Next to it was a thinner file. This one bore Alex's name. Her side of their last mission together. Miri plucked them out of the drawer and tucked them under her arm for examination, would have shut it but another file caught her attention. A second one bearing Alex's name. Larger than the two she held. Miri frowned and pulled that one out, too. The drawer slipped shut with a metallic clang when Miri pushed it closed with her hip. She absently carried the files over to a desk by the door, its wooden surface scratched with age and adorned only by a single lamp.

She opened Mitch Stevenson's file first. Catalogued the first things she saw. A picture of a handsome man, black hair worn in a neat banker's cut and blue eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. That would have been the first thing to attract Alex to him. Then there was the smile that suggested he knew exactly what whoever had taken the picture had been thinking at that moment. She skimmed the pages that followed. It wasn't really anything helpful to her search. Personal information. Family. School records. College major and minor. Club activities. Missions. Debriefings and reports. Typical, mundane things. Until she reached the last few pages.

A copy of the assignment he and Alex had been on was there. Nothing that should have been especially dangerous. Even the description said it was supposed to have been a run of the mill mission. She sifted through a few hand written notes that she thought must have been written by Stevenson before his death. The man's writing was cramped but neat. She found nothing in them that was incriminating or damning. Except perhaps a few mentions of Alex that seemed more personal than professional. They were followed by an autopsy report. And photos.

Miri swallowed hard as she stared at the cold, clinical images presented in vivid color. There was a single, reddish eye in the center of Stevenson's forehead. A jagged tear along one shoulder. Puckered craters in his chest. A long gash in one thigh. Deep wounds. Bloody wounds. Wounds that no one could have possibly survived. Behind those autopsy images, there were images taken at the scene. Miri couldn't remember seeing so much blood before. It was terribly bright against the ashen color that had settled into the skin. And the empty stare in the man's eyes was haunting.

Alex had been the one to find him. How had she reacted to that sightless gaze? To the spatters of blood that coated almost every surface in the hotel room? She'd only been a full agent for about six months when Stevenson had been killed. And she'd been dating the man. Miri knew that meant that Alex had been in love with him. She wouldn't have risked her job for anything less.

Miri closed the file and rubbed at her eyes, hoping to rid herself of the nightmare images in the process. She remembered when Stevenson had been killed. It had left everyone in shock. Everyone. He'd known everyone. Liked everyone. Been liked by everyone. No one had been able to believe he'd been killed. That had been when Alex had... changed. She and Miri had trained together, so Miri had known her before she'd become a little more hardcore about the job. A little less relaxed. She'd still played her pranks. But she hadn't befriended anyone other than Miri. She'd avoided personal connections because...

How had Miri missed it? She'd been right there and she hadn't seen the pain her friend had been in. Muttering a curse, she picked up the slim file and flipped it open. Thankfully, there were no pictures in this one. Just the official assignment and Alex's individual orders for the mission. Nothing really out of the ordinary. She turned them over, already seen and already forgotten. Behind them were pages of lined yellow paper covered in long, cramped script. Personal notes. Miri read through them, picking out the important parts and ignoring the rest. The final pieces of paper were typed, pristine white sheets of typing paper that contained precise, collected thoughts.

Alex had seen therapist or shrink of some sort. Standard procedure after such events. But the doctor's findings were intriguing. He'd written that Alex suffered from deep, immense guilt in connection to the death of Agent Mitch Stevenson. Deeper investigation into Alex's trauma proved that she believed it was her fault that her partner had been killed. That she truly felt she'd been instrumental in Agent Stevenson's death.

"For fuck's sake, Miri! I got him killed! It was my fault."

How had Miri not understood her? She'd admitted it then and there. Alex truly thought that it was her fault her partner had gotten killed. And she'd been walking around for ten years thinking that. It explained why she was so adamant that she wasn't in love with Barton. Never mind a blind man could see the truth of the matter.

Miri frowned and closed the file, her hands absently reaching for the third file even while her mind turned over all she'd learned. This changed things. For a while, Miri had been working at the puzzle that was Alex Quinn's love life. She'd been looking at it from every angle in the hopes of finding the best way to fix it. But knowing now what she knew about Mitch Stevenson, she knew that there was no way her friend would change her mind. Alex would never bring herself to admit to Barton that she cared about him after all that. Which meant he was going to have to do it. And Miri the one who was going to have to talk him into doing it

She smiled and wondered if maybe that wasn't the best way to handle it anyway. The minute those two got within ten feet of each other, the sparks would fly. And Miri was more than sure that those sparks would throw the two of them into bed together. She didn't think there was any way Alex could resist Barton. All Miri had to do was convince Barton that he wanted to give Alex another try. Miri glanced at the files before her and gave a sad smile. She knew just how she was going to accomplish that. Barton was out of the infirmary, on light duty until the doctors were sure that his wounds were completely healed. She'd go find him after she finished up here.

Glancing down at the file before her, Miri's eyes went wide as she stared at the picture that greeted her. Alexander Michael Quinn. Of course she knew he'd been an agent. She'd discovered that, thank to Natasha. But the section she'd pulled the files from was where the jackets on agents who had died... Miri went white as she halted her thoughts. Her hands shook as she began flipping pages.

Miri turned to the very back of the file and frowned. Alexander Quinn had been shot to death in the line of duty. Oh, God...

~*~*~*~*~

She found Barton on the range, bow in hand while he stared pensively at the grouping of arrows protruding from a target at the other end of the room. All of them were perfectly embedded in the center of the bullseye. Perfect aim, like always. She might have believed he hadn't nearly been killed if not for the paleness clinging to his skin. The shadows crowding under his eyes. The way the muscles in his legs trembled from just holding him up. Faded bruises and fresh scars on his arms. The shiny black cane propped against the wall behind him. She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "You sure you should be doing that just yet?" she asked him softly.

The sound of her voice saw him turning his head ever so slightly in her direction. While he didn't stare at her directly, she knew that he was paying attention. Stupid man. He should still be in bed. Any other soul who had just been nearly killed would take it easy for as long as necessary. But Barton wasn't like any other soul. His temper was nearly as legendary as his aim. So it hadn't been difficult to find him. A trail of highly disgruntled fresh recruits had led her to the range. She'd spent several long minutes watching him push himself before deciding to interrupt.

"Rest is overrated. I need to keep in shape," he replied curtly. There was something in his voice, some faint scrap of pain that he likely didn't think she could hear. She didn't acknowledge it to him, but she did wonder if it was a physical or emotional pain. Maybe it was both.

Miri softened her features and her voice. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll live." It was a curt statement letting her know that he didn't want to discuss anything personal again. Miri bit her lip, wondering how she was going to broach the subject she'd come about. He finally turned and gave her his full attention. She noticed that he was still favoring his injured leg. What was it about men that made them think they had to be so macho all the time? Moronic bullshit. She was still lost in those thoughts when he broke in with his own question. "How's Coulson doing?"

She blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't think I stuttered. How's Coulson doing? You have been sitting with him every night for the past week or so, haven't you? I figured you'd know how he was feeling."

"What the hell? Does everyone know? Did someone send out a fucking memo about this?" she asked, mostly under her breath. He must have heard her anyway, because he gave her that knowing grin she'd seen on his face more than once. A little bit of his normal self. She might be able to live with the idea that everyone knew if it put a smile on the man's face.

"I heard it from Natasha. She said you've been camped out in his hospital room for days."

Miri groaned. Just fucking peachy. Natasha knew. That was wonderful. She muttered a few colorful phrases under her breath before realizing that Barton was watching her and grinning. And she hadn't answered his question yet.

Forcing her thoughts to settle, she gave him a perfectly calm look. "He's doing much better. Each day sees more progress. His memories are coming back almost by the hour. He's been able to fill most of what happened that he can remember, though the doctors say he likely won't fully recall the events that led up to his injuries. He ordered Sitwell to bring him paperwork yesterday." She smiled at the last bit. That, more than anything, said that Phil was going to recover completely. "His past two MRIs have been clean and he's already complaining about the cast."

Barton nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. I also heard you and Quinn cleaned out a HYDRA nest." There was something almost like appreciation in his words.

"We each took a team in and wiped out every breathing HYDRA agent we could find," she told him. She didn't ask him how he knew. The gossips were apparently out in force. He nodded at her reply, a silent thanks, then turned to scoop up a quiver full of arrows. Miri watched as he selected an arrow, nocked it to the bowstring, and pulled back. He held the position for a very long time, until his muscles began to shake. Then he eased back the tension on the string and hung his head. She thought she heard him mutter a few swear words under his breath.

He turned away from her and began putting his shooting supplies away. She watched in silent, waiting for the right time to mention Alex and the file. Five minutes passed in which he returned the bow to its case and he cleaned up a few scattered, broken bits of arrow and string that had fallen to the floor. Mostly he just scuffed them with a foot into a corner and left them forgotten. When he turned and found her still there, he sighed and muttered what she suspected were more curses.

"Did you want something, Grant?" he asked her, hands hanging limply at his sides despite the fact that the rest of his posture screamed of tension. He obviously didn't want her there. Maybe she reminded him too much of Alex. Maybe he just wasn't in the mood for company. She didn't know. And she didn't care.

"I came to talk to you about Alex."

His gaze went cold at that. "I think Alex made her wishes known. She said she was drunk and she made a mistake. Then she pushed me away when I tried to talk to her about it. I don't see how there's anything left for us to talk about."

"What she did was wrong. The way she handled everything is wrong. And I'm not excusing what she did. But I do think maybe she had her reasons," Miri explained quietly. She offered him the file she held. Barton only looked at it, didn't take it from her. Miri sighed and shook her head. "It nearly killed her to see you hurt, you know."

"She's got a damn funny way of showing it." The sting in his voice definitely came from an emotional pain. It sounded as if he'd expected Alex to visit him. Miri knew she hadn't. Yeah. His ego, and likely more, still smarted from Alex's bone headed actions.

"I don't know what happened between you two. I don't want to know. But I do know that she cares, whether she wants to or not. And that scares the crap out of her."

Her words saw him lifting a brow at her in mocking curiosity. "You're defending her? I didn't think she was your favorite person right now." Oh, look. The grapevine was working overtime. Fucking wonderful. Did everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. know her personal business?

"I haven't talked to Alex since just after the assault on HYDRA," Miri told him. When he said nothing more, she pressed on. "Neither has anyone else. As soon as we got back, Alex asked for time off and she disappeared. Not even her family has heard from her."

"That's been over two weeks." While the comment had the appearance of being off hand, the look on his face didn't. He'd seen into Alex's life, albeit briefly, and understood the significance of her avoidance of her family.

"Her mother is worried. Alex has never done this before." Miri once more offered him the file. "I think this explains her actions. You might not believe me, but she does love you. I could see it in her eyes every time she saw you or talked about you. She isn't into casual sex, Clint. And she's never, ever taken a man home to meet her parents before."

He took the file, stared at her without opening it. Miri pointed at it. "When Alex was still new to being an agent, she had a relationship with her first partner. Mitch Stevenson. Everybody liked him. Good agent. Got killed in the line of duty. I suggest you read that to understand what Alex is thinking right now. I've known her since the day she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and I never knew this."

His gaze flicked to the file he held. "What does this have to do with how she treated me?"

"Read it. And when you're done, go find her. Make the first move. Kiss her until she's senseless. Tell her you love her. Do something. Just make the first move. And don't you dare take no for an answer," Miri replied. She didn't wait for him to open the file. She didn't try to read what might be in his eyes. She simply turned and walked away. And hoped like hell that he did exactly what she'd said.

~*~*~*~*~

He popped the cap off the top of the bottle, listening with a deep appreciation to the slight hiss the beer made when the seal was broken. He wasn't supposed to be drinking alcohol while under the influence of Vicodin, but he wasn't actually taking the Vicodin. He didn't think one beer to ease the tension in his shoulders and legs would be such a bad thing. Who gave a shit if his doctor didn't like it? The beer slid cold and smooth down his throat, drawing a long sound of pleasure from him.

Clint tossed the cap into the trash and hobbled toward his couch. The cane they'd forced on him when they'd released him was propped up against the end table closest to where he sat. If he had his way, that's where it would stay. He had to keep up appearances, though, so he used it mostly when he was going to be in public.

The soft cushions of the couch were a welcome feel under his ass when he sat. For several long moments, he simply sat with his eyes closed and enjoyed the way the tension eased. He'd been putting too much strain on his leg, pushing too much to get back to active status. And he was paying for it, too.

When he felt he'd relaxed as much as he was going to and still remain conscious, he let his eyes open. The apartment was silent, prompting him to reach out and snag the remote for the television. Not that he watched much of the crap they called entertainment. He preferred watching the channel dedicated to cars. Or the cartoon station. The TV came on and showed him that the car channel was on. Someone was working on an old Pontiac GTO, which reminded him of Alex. He quickly turned the channel and left it on cartoons.

Damn it. He hadn't planned on letting her climb into his head again tonight. It had been bad enough seeing her partner at the range. The last thing he needed was to be assaulted by memories of her silky flesh naked against his. Or the soft look in her eyes when she'd been settled beneath him, sated and filled with bliss. He certainly didn't need to hear her husky voice calling his name. Because those thoughts always ended up doing one thing and one thing only.

His dick twitched in his pants.

Yeah. That was it. Here he was, trying to put her out of his memory and his body was doing its utmost to ensure that he'd never be able to accomplish that. He took a pull off his beer, eyes drifting toward the tan file Miri had handed him earlier today. Read it. That's what she'd told him to do. So far, he'd managed to avoid that. He didn't want any excuses for her behavior. She'd ripped his god damn heart out of his chest. Nothing in the world could explain or excuse that. Nothing.

Laying in that hospital bed, he'd hoped like hell that Natasha had been wrong. That Alex was going to come through the door to his room like a hurricane on legs and throw herself down into the chair next to his bed, tears on her cheeks and an apology on her lips. He'd hoped that she would come and tell him she'd been wrong and that she cared and that she never wanted to be apart from him ever again. That hadn't happened.

Other than that time he thought he'd seen her, a brief image of someone with pale skin and dark hair staring down at him from the observation level, Alex had never shown up. Hadn't called. Hadn't even sent flowers with a card that said "Get well soon!" on it. Not a fucking thing from her. Selfish bitch.

He took another drink of his beer. His brain was already recalling the rest of his talk with Miri. Alex hadn't spoken to her parents since the crash had happened. More than two weeks without family dinners or phone calls. He'd seen enough of her life in that one dinner to know that such behavior was totally unlike her. She was as invested in her family as she was in her job. A job that she was presently taking time away from.

That didn't sound like the Alex Quinn he knew. For four years, ever since Christmas that one year, he'd watched her without her realizing it. She never missed work. She enjoyed her job. A few discreet inquiries had revealed that much about her. He'd seen it when working with her, too. From her days in the motor pool to her achieving status as a full agent, Alex had seemingly never regretted her decision to go to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., no matter how much grief it caused her where her family was concerned.

What would make her avoid the two things she valued most in her life? If he included Miri, she was avoiding the three most valuable things in her life. What was going on? Was it all real? Or was it a ploy concocted by the two of them to earn her an opportunity to get back in his good graces? He didn't know. It didn't seem like anything she'd do. Alex struck him as the 'in your face' type, not as someone who would do things behind a person's back.

According to Miri, the answers to those questions could be found in that file folder. Was he ready to find them out?

The bottle he held was empty, the beer that had been in it currently residing in his stomach. He considered another but pushed the thought aside after only a second or two. Whatever was in this file was important, which meant it deserved his full attention. Leaning forward, Clint put a hand on the folder and sighed. Whatever was in there, it wasn't going to change his mind. He wouldn't let it.

Decision made, he flipped the folder open to find that it had a picture on top. The photo showed a dark haired, blue eyed man with a killer smile. Mitch Stevenson. Clint recognized the man, had known of him back in the day. The kind of guy who liked everyone and whom everyone liked. Handsome sort of guy. Maybe he could see why Alex might be attracted to the man.

He was not jealous of a corpse.

He turned the photo over and found a second behind it. A crime scene photo. Mitch Stevenson lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood that was too wide to be just his own. More red stained his clothes and his face. Except for the wide eyed, empty stare of his blue eyes. Somehow, those had been left untouched by the spatter of crimson. He'd been shot in the head, center of his forehead. And there was a deep gash in his shoulder that looked like it had been made with a sword. Another in his thigh. And more holes in his chest. Someone had wanted to ensure that there was no way the man would survive his wounds.

Clint turned to the next page, steeling himself for another photo. It wasn't. It was a report, done in a neat writing that he knew wasn't Coulson's, describing what the investigating agents believed had happened. He'd read enough reports to know what he'd find, so he skimmed through it, looking for the key passages that would explain why Miri had included it. He hit on the most important one near the bottom and it saw ice knifing into his chest. Agent Quinn was first on the scene and discovered Agent Stevenson's body only moments after the fire fight took place.

Clint frowned. What was it Miri had told him earlier? He hadn't really been paying too much attention to her, hadn't wanted to. So he had to search his thoughts for the reason why that statement should be so disturbing. Right. Alex had been going out with Stevenson and... Oh, shit.

His conversation with Miri came back with startling clarity. Besides telling him that Alex had been dating her first partner, she'd also suggested that Alex wasn't into casual sex, that she'd slept with him because she had feelings for him. Hadn't he thought something similar himself? If that was true, then Alex hadn't just been dating Mitch Stevenson, she'd had feelings for him. Maybe had even loved him.

He most definitely was not jealous of a corpse.

Clint was careful to read through everything else. Miri had obviously put this together for him, because it only centered on Stevenson's death and how Alex had dealt with it. Grant had likely taken a big risk with her career by slipping some of this information out because there was a report in there that had been typed up by one of the shrinks S.H.I.E.L.D. kept on the payroll. A report that was confidential. And there were handwritten notes from the same shrink, talking about Alex's guilt.

The way the shrink explained it in their notes and their written report, Alex believed she was responsible for Stevenson's death. Was that right? How could that be right? How could Alex think she was the reason the other man was dead?

This whole mess was fucked up. Clint rose to his feet, leg stiff from being in one position for too long, and hobbled out to the kitchen. He needed another beer. Something to do with his hands while he considered everything he'd learned. When he popped the second one, he didn't take the time to appreciate the faint hissing sound it made. He just tossed the cap and took a drink, mind already turning over what he'd read and what Miri had told him.

He made his way back to his couch and settled into it with a sigh, free hand absently kneading at the tense, tender muscle while he considered. According to Grant, Alex loved him. He was inclined to believe her. She knew the other woman better than anyone else did. And his own instincts had said pretty much the same thing. And the items he'd found in the file suggested that Alex was holding him at arm's length because of what had happened to her first partner. Because she blamed herself and because she was afraid that the same thing would happen again.

It was a good argument. A solid argument. And Clint was pretty sure that Miri had the right of it all. Which meant that Alex had pushed him away to protect him. Because she loved him.

Those words flashed through his head, giant neon letter blinking bright and bold in the darkness. Alex loved him. Despite everything she'd done and said, she loved him. Which meant he needed to talk to her. About her relationship with Stevenson. About her relationship with him. About damn near everything.

Clint reached out and snagged his cell phone, hit a button. The phone made melodic chirps as it dialed out. It only rang twice before it was answered. "Hello?"

"Tony, my friend. I need a big favor. A huge favor. One that only you can accomplish for me." Clint was grinning as he spoke.

There was silence for a long moment from the other end, broken by a long sigh. "Fuck me. This can't be any good. What do you need, Clint?"