Hi, everyone! Yes, I know, it's all shocking: you haven't heard from me in almost a year (aside from a post on my homepage, but who really reads those things?) and I've brought out a new story for you to enjoy...hopefully.

Anyways, I won't take up to much of your time, other than giving out my new disclaimer (squeals!) New disclaimer, how cool?! Ahem!

The Management of Chaotic Inc. wished to adivses readers that the creater of this story does NOT own the rights to Marvel or any of its properties, she is only responsibly for her original characters and the occasional plot story. However, if she did own the rights to Marvel, she would tell them writers to create the 3rd season of EMH and finish all the plot bunnies they started. She is not happy they ended it they way the did.

The Rose

Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep. Beep-Thump!

"Ok I'm up." I grumbled, my outstretched hand resting on top of my alarm clock. The rest of my body was underneath a huge mountain that was my bed sheet and two very worn comforters that did little to combat the cold in my bedroom. I really didn't want to get up this morning. There wasn't a force out there that could get me up from my only-just-gotten-warm bed and into the world.

But I did anyway.

I pulled my hand from the clock as I let my body roll out of my bed, landing with an ungraceful thud that jerked me into semi-consciousness. Staggering to my feet, I managed to get into the bath room for a shower. After pulling my pyjamas off and stepping under the spray, I rocketed into full consciousness when I realized that the hot water service was broken (again) and was more colder than my room.

Rushing to get clean and out of the shower, I vigorously rubbed dry with my fluffiest towel, the sounds of early morning traffic rumbling through the window. Once some blood was circulating through my body, I grabbed clean undergarments from my drawers and put them on, slipping a pair of faded baby blue jeans. Thick socks went on my feet, followed by my sturdiest pair of hiking boots.

I rummaged my closet for something clean, and hopefully warm, I finally located my two favourite shirts. The first to go on was my self-made t-shirt with long sleeves. The shirt part was a black small v-neck, with a red stripe along the edges of the neck, arms and hem. The long sleeves were black and white stripped, the ends reaching to my knuckles. Holes in the sides were necessary for my thumbs. Over the top was a grey singlet, keeping the warmth in a little.

Once dressed, I went into the kitchen for some breakfast, but if the hot water service was broken, then chances are the most power in the building was dead, too. All this made me pause to think about my apartment, although I guess the proper name would be a 'shoebox'. It was small, the kitchen and tiny living room practically the same room, and the door leading to my bedroom was paper thin. It didn't help that the building itself was considerably smaller than its neighbours, meaning the sun didn't warm in properly until sunset.

Pulling out of my thoughts, I went to make myself something for breakfast when I heard Beethoven's Fifth playing from within my crappy two seater couch. Why I always left it on the couch was beyond me, but it did help to find it before whoever rang hung up. Pulling it out from the cushions though, I grimaced when I saw who was calling. :Well, too late now.: I told myself, pressing the green button and raising the device to my ear. "Morning, Tony." I greeted warmly.

"And a lovely morning to you too, sis." Came the very cheerful reply, "Care for breakfast at the usual place?" My brother Tony has always, as far as I've known, tried to get me to eat out in public. Not that I had problems with it, it's just that, well...

Being out with a brother was one thing; but when your older brother is Tony Stark, Director of Stark Industries and the superhero Iron Man, it put a serious dampener on things.

The temptation to say 'no, thanks' was big, but then I reminded myself that I probably had no power at all last night, so any food was probably rotten.

"Sure. I'll meet you there in 15 minutes." I agreed.

Ok, then. Ta-ta, lil' sis." He teased playfully before hanging up.

I ducked into my tiny bedroom to retrieve my skateboard from underneath the single bed, grabbing my backpack from beside the couch and keys from the bench before walking out the front door and locking up. Though I wasn't sure why: the front door was just as paper thin as the bedroom door, but I guess it added a sense of security.

It wasn't like I was important enough to kidnap.

#####

Sitting in our usual booth, I tried to focus more on my food than the fact people were gawking as us from a couple of seats over. Well, not really 'us', but more so at my brother. But Tony either seemed not to notice them or he did but was doing a better job at ignoring them. In an effort to follow his page, I turned my thoughts onto the diner.

A quaint small building with an interior that strongly resembled the 60's or some era there about. The staff were always cheerful no matter what, and they always had time to lend a sympathetic ear whenever someone needed it. They also had the best breakfast menu in New York, as well. Normally, one would think that a place like this would be a target for anything bad, but a little known fact to certain people: this also happened to be the favourite after-hours hangout for S.H.E.I.L.D. agents, and trust me S.H.E.I.L.D. is not something you should mess with.

You could be asking yourself how Tony Stark's sister knows about S.H.I.E.L.D. and how agents came here. Easy; I was friends with Director Fury and several top-ranking agents. Well, ok, maybe not exactly friends with the Director personally; more like he helped me get out of a few tight spots over the last 5 years, especially a few weeks ago when things turned a really terrifying shade of scary dangerous.

I pulled out of my thoughts when a waitress approached with our order of pancakes. After placing them in front of us and giving Tony a sly wink, she disappeared leaving us in relative peace. The pancakes here were Tony's favourite, going by the way he attacked them. I just ate mine, trying not to gag at Tony. Although, to be really honest, I haven't had much of appetite lately, which was giving people close to me some concern, especially when they knew how much I liked me food.

Halfway through our meal, Tony started a conversation about his work at S.I., his work as Iron Man and the new suits he was thinking about creating. I put my two cents worth in occasionally, but otherwise I nodded and hummed in agreement while trying to get through my meal. It didn't help that I could feel Tony—and a few other people—discreetly looking at me as I did. I felt bad that I had people worrying about me, but sometimes I just couldn't help but...well, help be myself.

#####

Tony had to leave not long into the meal: something a giant robot in Chicago. Paying for our meals, he pressed a kiss to my forehead before disappearing out the door. I was just about ready to follow suit when a pair of eyes, belonging to a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, looked at me from the next booth over, with a clear look that said 'sit'. My sheepishly lowered my head and continued to eat my meal.

When I finished enough of it to appease the eyes watching me, the owner decided to join e a the booth, a cheeky glint in his cocky smile. "So, Starky, how's life going?" Hawkeye asked, affectionately using the pet name he gave me.

Hawkeye, or Clint Barton, was a good friend of mine. More to the point, he was one of the agents sent by Fury to help me out of a problem not that long ago, when things got scary for me. Plus, he was a nice guy to be around: he was always trying to make me laugh about anything, and most of the time he succeeded.

Though, those moments were becoming more and more rare lately, much to his chagrin.

We talked a while longer, mostly about some ideas for inventions I had; I found it refreshing to talk to Hawkeye about my work. Don't get me wrong: it's nice to geek out with Tony, but sometimes talking to someone who wasn't a technology nut was an enlightening moment.

"So how's life in the shoebox?" He finally asked, getting to what he probably wanted to talk to me about.

"Well...the same as ever, I guess." I replied softly, wrapping my hands around the cup of tea I had ordered, "The hot water service is out...again." The look I was getting from Hawkeye made me wish I could crawl into a hole: he never liked idea the idea of me living by myself, especially in an apartment with a bad water service, shoddy electricity, and all the perfect requirements for someone to kidnap me, or rob me. Tony and Director Fury were of the same mind.

"So...?" Hawkeye asked slowly, "Why aren't you packing boxes? Or asking me and Quatermaine to help you move said boxes?"

Ugh, this topic again.

"I told you, Clint." I gushed out a sigh, "I don't want to be a burden on anyone, especially when everyone does more than enough for me." That and I didn't want to paint a bigger target on Tony's back than he needed. I may not be known in the newspapers or media outlets, but certain underworld super villains knew about me, and that alone was a disturbing thought.

Clint must've seen what I was thinking and reached his hand to gently rest on top of mine, his face holding that look: the sort of sad look where he sort of knew and understood my problem, but wished that I got over it.

I sometimes wished that myself.

#####

After catching up with Hawkeye, and promising to see each other again soon, I left the diner and headed back to my apartment. Holding my skateboard under my arm, I walked past an electronic store, when a group of children gathered around watching something. All the TV screens were displaying the same movie: Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty. Despite being 19 years old, I was drawn to the movie.

Cliché as it is, I often wish that my life were more like hers: the 3 good fairies, animal friends, loving parents. But mostly? I just wanted a Prince Philip of my own, or even having just a guy look at me and see nothing else but wonder and adoration, to dance with me whenever someone pressed 'play' on an internal soundtrack, but more importantly; a guy to love me and treat me like a princess, and never once make me feel or let me feel bad, put down or like I was nothing.

Barely holding back a snort of disdain, I pulled away from the TV screens and made my way back home. :Face it, girl.: I told myself as I opened my front door, :the only thing you have in common with Sleeping Beauty is the name the fairies gave her.:

Yeah, that was me; Briar Rose Stark, the not worldly known sister of Tony Stark.

And hopelessly looking for a prince to sweep her off her feet.

So... what do you guys think? Like it? Hate it? Not really sure? Whatever your opinion, you may express it in a review, or favourite story or what not...however, reviews that are deemed just plain mean, nasty, and determined to undermine the author will not be tolerated, and will face the fury of the Hulk.

Till next time, my friends!