Expanded Summary: Aramis Stark has always been headstrong, much to the chagrin of her family. In the face of a devastating ultimatum, she is presented with an incredible opportunity to join the Office of Strategic Services working in the Secret Intelligence Division, a newly formed government organization that would become the precursor to the modern day CIA. Their training and war-time activities place them on the same path as the men of Easy Company of the 101st Airborne Division, taking them on an incredible journey across Europe that will change their lives and the course of history.
Authors Note: This has the mildest of crossovers with the Marvel Universe. It is so negligible, I didn't bother to list it as such, and unless you have seen Captain America, you likely won't notice. You will see mentions of Howard Stark and Stark Enterprises, but it really only serves to give deeper context to who Aramis is, and further plausibility to how she might have the ability to do the things she does.
Authors Note 2: I don't own Band of Brothers, nor do I own Howard Stark or Stark Enterprises, and there is no intention of copyright infringement. I do, however, own Aramis Stark, and the other original fiction characters within the story.
Authors Note 3: I did my best to do as much research as possible when writing this. Stanley Lovell, William Donovan, David K.E. Bruce, and the Office of Strategic Services were all quite real, and I tried to weave as much history into this story as humanly possible. That said, I did take some artistic license to make certain things fit as my imagination needed them to.
All We Cannot See
Chapter 1: We Used to Wait
April 1942
The city was alive this morning as the first breath of spring sighed over New York City, buzzing with a flurry of newly found exuberance that only came with the seasonal shift to a more temperate climate. It was warm and the streets were brimming with people, excited to take advantage of the sunny weather and the ability to walk to work. She stepped out of her building, waving at her doorman as she passed, and stepped out into the bustling metropolis of midtown Manhattan.
"Would you like me to get a cab for you, Miss Stark?" He asked.
"No thank you, Clive. It's such a beautiful day I think I'll walk. And how many times do I have to ask you to call me Aramis?" She chided him gently.
"Probably a few more, Miss Stark." He said with a wink. "You be careful now, Spring does funny things to people." She smiled and pulled the aviator sunglasses her brother had given her over her ash gray eyes.
"Nothing I can't handle." Clive laughed.
"That's my girl."
It was warmer than she anticipated, and she grabbed one of the elastic bands they used to hold draft paper out of her bag and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, the large golden brown curls bouncing with each step. She stopped at her usual spot, greeting the gentleman with a kind smile as he passed her morning routine to her in exchange for a $1 bill. Her brother told her she was insane for spending a whole dollar on coffee and a croissant from a street vendor. She reminded him he was using the term insane improperly, and that not everyone was as fortunate as they were.
She continued down Central Park South, smiling at the budding leaves on the trees and diving around a stream of school children walking toward Columbus Circle. She turned down 5th Avenue, passing the Plaza Hotel and hoping she didn't run into her mother. She was supposed to be attending a breakfast for a charity whose name and cause she couldn't recall. She took a bite of her croissant and ducked her head, hoping her sunglasses and breakfast would be sufficient to hide her face from prying eyes.
She stepped off the street into an office building on Fifth Avenue, just off 55th Street and just across from the St. Regis hotel. Stark Enterprises New York headquarters was a marvel. The gothic architecture that faced one of the most lavish and expensive shopping districts in the country was a strange location for a munitions designer and manufacturer. Most of their competitors were based out of Washington D.C., Virginia, or other places in the West. When asked his motivation for locating in New York, her father Howard Stark Sr. replied: "Because it's New York. Does one need another reason?" No one asked again. She walked across the lobby briskly, her black flats slipping quietly across the shiny marble floor. Thankfully she had arrived early, so there was no chance of her father seeing her "without proper shoes on." He hated it when she wasn't wearing heels.
"Good morning Henry!" She greeted the guard on duty. He lifted his head from his newspaper behind his desk, and smiled when he saw her. He hurried out from behind the guard desk, and opened the gate for her.
"Good morning, Miss Stark!" He replied cheerfully. She whispered a quick thank you as she passed him and hurried to the elevator bay. Pressing the button, she waited quietly, taking a bite of her croissant and a sip of her coffee. The doors opened, and she stepped through.
"Morning Charles." She said to the operator. He smiled at her
"Good morning to you, Miss Stark." He said kindly, pushing the button for the 42nd floor. "All ready for the big meeting?" She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, tangling them in her hair. She rolled her eyes.
"You know I'm never one to be unprepared." She took another sip of her coffee.
"And Mr. Stark?" She made a face
"We're about to find out…" The doors to the elevator opened, revealing the lobby of her floor. "Have a great day Charles." She said to him, exiting at the same brisk pace at which she had entered. She turned the corner, and headed down the hall to her office.
"Morning, Trudy" She greeted her assistant breathlessly.
"Morning, Aramis." Trudy called back. She rose from her desk as Aramis swooped in, and followed her through the door to her office. "I have your messages from yesterday. Also, Leon called, apparently Howard was in the lab until just a few hours ago." Aramis' head sprang up from the assortment of newspapers on her desk to look at her assistant.
"He was up all night?!" Aramis cried incredulously. Trudy shrugged.
"Apparently."
"I'm going to kill him! We have a meeting in D.C. at 4:00!"
"I know." Trudy said sympathetically. "I think he's taking a nap in his office. His door and blinds were closed when I got here, and Sara had a guilty look on her face." Aramis shook her head and took a sip of her coffee.
"He's definitely sleeping. Of all days…" She set her coffee down and moved around her desk, making her way out of her office.
"Oh, Aramis?" Trudy said quietly. Aramis stopped and turned to face her assistant. "Your father wanted to see you as well. He said for you to stop by his office." Aramis gave a dismissive wave to the message.
"Junior first. Senior can wait. Are all the documents ready to go?" Trudy nodded.
"Yes. They should be delivered from the printer later this morning. Though, you might want to check with Mr. Stark. I think he made some changes you should be aware of." Aramis growled.
"Ugh! I'm going to kill him!" She marched over to her brother's office, her eyes set on his secretary. She definitely had a guilty look on her face.
"Uh, Miss Stark! Good morning!: She said nervously. Aramis blew by her. "Please don't…" She started
"Save it, Sara. I need to speak with him." She threw Howard's door open and stormed into his office.
She heard a groan, drawing her eyes to the couch next to his bookcase. He lay there, with one arm draped over his face, the other dangling toward the ground. She tisked him, crossed his office and threw open the curtains, illuminating the room with the light of the morning.
"What the..?!" He jumped, curling his body away from the light like a vampire. "Sara! I told you not to let anyone in!" He exclaimed, his voice heavy with sleep.
"Like she could have stopped me." Aramis retorted.
"Ugh… Especially not her." Howard said, bringing himself to a seated position.
"Trudy says you were up all night?!" She demanded. She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. Her eyes glanced at his left hand, and she saw a glass with a familiarly amber colored liquid inside of it. "I swear to God, Howard, if you were out drinking I will throw you out the window." Her voice was dangerous. Howard rolled his eyes.
"Relax, Boo." He said, using her childhood nickname. "I was up all night perfecting the products for our meeting this afternoon. I poured this before I passed out to try to coax myself to sleep. Turns out I didn't need it." He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Though it still tastes lovely." She groaned at him.
"It's 9:00 in the morning, Howard. Get it together!" She reached forward and swiped the drink from his hand, handing it to Sara in one motion. He stood from the couch and walked across his office toward his desk.
"You're certainly a ray of sunshine this morning." He said, picking up a pack of cigarettes, putting one to his lips and lighting it.
"I was in a fantastic mood until I heard you were up all night. You don't have a stellar track record with being on time or prepared for meetings. Or have you forgotten how many times I've had to cover for you with the board. And dad. And the engineers. And the city. And General Marshall…"
"Alright, alright. You don't need to list off all my esteemed accomplishments." He said, waving his hand at her dismissively. Her eyes went wide.
"That's just the last 2 months, Howard! I could keep going for ages!" Sara stifled a giggle next to them. They turned and glared at her, their movements synchronized. She stopped abruptly.
"I'll, um, just go take care of this…somewhere else…" She stepped out and closed the door behind her. Howard moved behind his desk, tapped the ash off his cigarette and sat down.
She sat on the corner of his desk, glaring daggers at him.
"So would you mind sharing all the 'perfections' you were making to our products?" He put his cigarette between his lips, and started unbuttoning his white shirt. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and reached in, retrieving a brand new undershirt, still in Saks Fifth Avenue packaging.
"Increased the amount of time you can set the limpet mines for. Took some of the weight out of the silencer by making the barrel attachment smaller, which also made it quieter. Figured out a way to make the C4 putty safe to handle with bare hands. You know, just little things." He said casually. She narrowed her eyes at him, and stared at him hard.
"Oh yeah, little things." She said, making a face. "Well, the figures on the briefing pages will be wrong. But I can't imagine you even considered that." He exhaled a puff of smoke at her.
"We still use briefing pages? Are we planning on selling them high quantities of mustard gas to drop over the trenches too?" She rolled her eyes again.
"You're intolerable when you haven't slept." She stood and moved to exit his office.
"You're the one who woke me up." He retorted. He stood, and walked over to the far wall of his office, pressing a wall panel to release a spring door, and opening an office closet. He stripped off the old white shirt and pulled a new one from a closet. "Now will you get out of here so I can change in peace, please?"
"That depends. Are you going to change and get some work done, or are you going to go back to sleep as soon as I close the door?" She stood in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorknob.
"I haven't decided yet." She sighed with exasperation.
"Do you at least have new figures written down so I can try to amend the reports?" He sighed and slumped his shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He turned back to his desk and rummaged around until he found a piece paper, which he picked up and thrust in her direction. She pursed her lips and stepped back into his office, taking it from his grasp.
"Thank you." She said genuinely. She looked at the page in her hand. "Jesus, you were able to take off that many decibels?!" She exclaimed.
"You know," He said softly. "The little things." He winked at her. She smiled. "Now get out."
"You're such a gentleman." She said as she walked away.
"You love me!" he said as she retreated.
"Only when you get your shit done." She retorted as she walked down the hallway.
She strode back over to her office briskly, hoping it wouldn't be too late to amend the reports. She stopped in front of Trudy's desk, her face apologetic and hopeful.
"I'm really sorry, but Howard was making improvements all night. I guess some of the figures for the products are different. Can you make the changes to the briefing forms, or is it too late?" Trudy smiled at her.
"Leon left them on my desk when they finished. I already called the printer. He had the new figures messengered to their offices, and they're making the changes."
"I'm going to have you and Leon recommended for Sainthood, I swear." Aramis exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief. Trudy smiled.
"Anything else I can get for you?" Aramis shook her head.
"I'm just going to try to run over these figures. Do you know when Leon will be back in?"
"I think he said he would try to be back around 10:30." Aramis nodded.
"Schedule a lunch with he, Howard, and I at 11:00? Actually, arrange to have it delivered to the lab. I want them to show me the improvements they made. Tell Howard if he skips out on me to go on a date, I will tear out his ribcage and wear it as a hat." Trudy started laughing.
"That exact language?"
"Verbatim."
"Will do." Looked up at Trudy from reports
"What would I do without you?"
"Murder your brother." They both laughed, Aramis turned back to the reports and started looking them over, poring over every last detail to try and prepare for the meeting ahead of her.
She re-entered her office briskly, sifting through the papers in her hand and reviewing the figures in front of her. After the lunch with Leon and Howard, her mind was buzzing with excitement, and she was looking forward to this meeting more than others in the past. If Howard and Leon's projections were accurate, and she knew they were, they were looking at a huge new contract that could bring in tens of millions of dollars. She took a sip of sparkling water as she set the papers down, fanning them across her desk as she checked and double-checked the figures. A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Aramis?" Trudy asked softly.
"Hm?" She replied absently, her eyes still glued to the papers in front of her. "Oh!" She looked back at her assistant, recognizing how rude she was being. "Sorry. Did the doorman drop off my suitcase? Howard wants to stay in D.C. tonight." Her assistant nodded affirmatively, her arms crossed over her chest defensively, as if she was anxious.
"Yes, he did." She replied. Aramis' gaze fell back to the papers in front of her. "But Aramis..?" Trudy continued.
"Hm?" She responded again, waiting a moment before looking up.
"Your father still wants to see you. He came by while you were at lunch, asking if I had delivered the message to you." Aramis' brow furrowed. It was unlike her father to check in on her, especially to leave his office to come by hers. It must have been important.
"I'm so sorry, Trudy. I completely forgot. That's so strange. I'll head over now." Trudy nodded. She looked a little tense. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, of course. It was just strange to speak with him in person is all." She nodded. Her father could be very intimidating. His brevity wasn't a quality that won him many friends.
"He's harmless." She said with a kind smile. She placed her hand on Trudy's shoulder gently, reassuring her. "I'll be back soon." She said. She walked across the office, her steps muted by the thick carpet. She rounded the corner and approached the corner of her father's office, stopping in front of his assistant's desk.
"Hi Elizabeth. Is he in?" She said politely. Elizabeth looked up over her horn rimmed glasses, her critical eyes settling on Aramis' face with a haughty boredom.
"Miss Stark. Yes. One moment, he's on a call, but I'll tell him you're here. He's been expecting you all day." She said, her tone almost scolding. Aramis arched an eyebrow at the woman. "Have a seat, please." She said dismissively. Aramis rolled her eyes and sat in the chair in front of her father's office, wondering what was going on and why he needed to see her so desperately. She placed her hands in her lap politely and waited for her father to finish his meeting. The door to his office opened a few minutes later, and she saw the familiar gray hair poke out the door.
"Send her in." He said to Elizabeth, his voice stern and deadpan, before retreating into his office. She stood and smoothed the skirt of her dress, adjusting the delicate pleats before starting toward the door.
"You can go in." Elizabeth directed, gesturing toward the door.
"Yes, I inferred that. Thank you." Aramis responded sarcastically. She placed her hand on the handle of the door gently and walked into his office.
It was just as she remembered: thick gray carpet, rich cherry wood furnishings, immaculately tidy desk, a portrait of her mother, a portrait of she and Howard, thick clouds of cigarette smoke, a crystal decanter of Macallan 21, and one of the most beautiful views overlooking 5th Avenue she had ever seen. She remembered sitting next to the window as a child, pretending her dolls were giants that walked over the buildings of Manhattan, helping the construction crews build as the city came alive around them.
"Aramis, sit down." Howard Sr. said gruffly. She arched an eyebrow at him as she closed the door, looking at him strangely as she continued into his office.
"Hi Dad." She said sharply.
"Sorry, dear." He said, shaking his head. He came around his desk and embraced her stiffly, pressing an awkward kiss her cheek. "How was lunch with Howard and Leon?" She chuckled inwardly, gripping his elbows softly as he "hugged" her.
"It was great." She said, trying to hide her enthusiasm as they pulled away from one another. Her father moved behind his desk and returned to his chair as she took a seat in front of him. "We went over all the new products we're delivering to Howard's old MIT professor. Apparently he's linked up with a new division of the military that's going to do something with intelligence. Naturally, Howard is like a kid in a candy store. It's like a feast for his imagination." She joked lightly.
"And how has his imagination fared so far?" She nodded.
"He and Leon have produced some great stuff. I guess they were up all night making improvements."
"So I heard. That's wonderful. So the meeting will go well?"
"As long as Howard behaves himself, I think so."
"Good. That's very good." He said. He was leaning on his desk, resting his elbows against the smooth leather of the cover with his fingers clasped together tightly. He was silent for a moment, avoiding her gaze as he began to flex his fingers, almost as though he was agitated or nervous. She arched an eyebrow at him, wondering what had him so worked up.
"You wanted to see me?" She said expectantly, finally breaking the silence.
"Yes." He responded, clearing his throat. "Aramis, your mother and I think it's time for you to get your priorities straight." Her eyebrow arched even higher.
"I beg your pardon?" She deadpanned.
"Frankly, it's unseemly for a young lady to be spending her time at an office when she has no reason to do so. You have no need to continue working here, I have done everything in my power to ensure that." Both of her eyebrows went skyward.
"Excuse me?" She said incredulously.
"Your mother can't understand why you have continuously refused her requests to join her on the boards of the charities. She says you consistently decline her invitations to have lunch with the other society ladies, and that you rarely spend any time with other women in general."
"Right. Because I'm usually too busy working. I'm sure you're aware, but your son can be a bit of a handful sometimes."
"Well, that shouldn't be an issue going forward." Aramis' eyes narrowed.
"And why is that? Have you cleared my calendar from here until kingdom come so that I can lunch at the most exclusive hotel dining rooms to impress Mom's friends?"
"At the end of this week, you will no longer work here." Her jaw fell.
"I'm sorry, are you firing me?!" She exclaimed.
"Of course not. Aramis, if I had my way you would be running this company. It's very clear that Howard has very little interest, and everyone here knows that the only reason the products are delivered on time is because of you." She narrowed her eyes at him. It was clear he was very uncomfortable with the conversation, and that he very likely wasn't the driving force behind the decision.
"Then I fail to see what the impetus of this is."
"Aramis, your mother has decided that you need to settle down into a real life, and that it's time you take your proper place in society."
"So you want me to flounce around the city, following mom around in pretty dresses like some airheaded little duckling to try to dupe some rich idiot into marrying me?" She asked incredulously.
"Aramis, don't speak about your mother that way."
"While I respect that you and mom are trying to do what you think is best, I'm not going to resign myself to a life of society galas, fashion shows, and mind-numbing conversation with people whom I despise just to spare her reputation. If you had, at any point, considered ME in this decision making, you would remember that I have gone to every party, gala, or event that mother has forced me into begrudgingly, and have always left early. I hate them, I always have, and I always will. I'm your child, dad. I'm smart, I know my own self-worth, and I don't take shit from anyone. The two of you included." His eyes narrowed at her dangerously.
"Watch your tone, young lady."
"It's fun when the things you say come back to bite you in the ass, isn't it Dad?" He sighed in exasperation and put his face in his hand, pausing for a moment. He took a deep breath and locked his eyes on hers.
"Aramis, I'm not going to argue with you. At the end of the week, Henry and Charles will no longer permit you to enter the building. Trudy will be reassigned to another executive, or she will be given a healthy severance if she wishes to leave the company."
"So you are firing me."
"If that is how you wish to view the situation at hand Aramis, then yes. I am firing you."
"And what exactly do you expect me to do next week? Start whoring myself out to the highest bidder society will grace me with?" He looked at her sharply, the same way he would look at her when she was a child.
"You have two choices, Aramis. You may get married. Or you can join the war effort." She laughed cynically, throwing her head back as she gripped the armrests of the chair.
"Ah yes, but you know they won't let me anywhere near the front lines. And with my degree in biochemistry, they'll throw me into the nursing corps. Where you hope I'll meet some dashing officer and ride off into the sunset on a white horse." Her father rolled his eyes and shook his head. He lifted his hand and waved at her dismissively.
"Invent whatever fantasies you'd like, Aramis. Those are your choices." He said with finality, indicating he was finished with the conversation. She sat back in the chair, glaring at him impetuously.
"You know dad, for all the lines you fed me when I was younger about intelligence being the greatest asset and strength a person could possess, and that knowledge was the only currency that truly held any value, you're certainly not practicing what you preach." She stood from her chair and clenched her fists at her sides. "Thank you. For teaching me just enough to recognize when my teacher no longer has anything left to teach me." She spun on her heel and exited his office before he could say another word, slamming the door behind her and fighting the temptation to give Elizabeth the middle finger as she passed.
She marched down the hallway, so blinded by rage she barely paid attention to where she was going. She was running on instinct and on fumes, and she was so lost in her own thoughts she didn't notice Howard until her face ran into his chest. He grabbed her arms and steadied her after their collision, leaning down to put his eyes level with hers.
"Hey. Are you ready?" He asked her, still holding her arms. She flitted her eyes up to his, glaring at him unintentionally.
"Yes." She replied curtly. He furrowed his brow at her and cocked his head in confusion at her sudden animosity, her mood in distinct contrast from when he left her just 30 minutes prior.
"Okay. Your suitcase is downstairs. The car is waiting to take us to LaGuardia." She perked up at the mention of the airport.
"We aren't taking the train?" He smiled at her wickedly.
"I couldn't pass up an opportunity to take her up in the air, now could I?" He said, his voice giddy and playful at the mention of his new plane. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. He handed her purse and sunglasses to her and started walking toward the elevators, aware that something had happened between their meeting and now, but knowing better than to ask what it was. They made their way out of the building in silence, the tension emanating off of Aramis in palpable waves. Her sunglasses covered her eyes, even though while they were inside the building. Her mouth was set in a thin line, and her arms were crossed over her chest. She strode out of the building quickly, as though she couldn't wait to get as far away from it as humanly possible. Howard knew something was truly wrong when she responded to Henry's goodbye with a simple wave as she passed, he narrowed his eyes at her, regarding his sister carefully as she sped through the double doors and out into the sunshine of the afternoon. He gave the bemused Henry a kind smile and followed in her wake. She was already seated in the car when he handed his briefcase to their driver, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared out the window across Fifth Avenue. The car pulled away from the curb, into the light traffic of the afternoon as they set off toward the airport.
"Want to talk about it?" He asked, breaking the silence.
"Talk about what?" She said, her tone expressionless.
"Whatever dad said that pissed you off so badly." He offered.
"No." She said definitively. He raised his eyebrows and drew a cigarette from the slim case in his pocket. He put it to his lips and lit it, the silver lighter catching the sunlight as they crossed the bridge into Queens.
"Okay." He replied. Before he could take a drag, she reached over and plucked the cigarette from between his lips, pressing it to her own without a word. He made a face at her, just as he used to when they were children and she took one of his toys. She ignored him, just as she used to when they were children and she took one of his toys. He shook his head, drawing another cigarette and lighting it for himself.
She spent the plane ride in silence, leaving Howard to focus on playing with his toy. He and the co-pilot were discussing things to do in the D.C. area, but she didn't hear much of their conversation. She sat there quietly, staring out the window, and imagining all the nightmares that lay before her. She thought of all the society events her mother would drag her to. The balls, the galas, the charity events, the lunches, the dinners, the expectations, the insipid debutantes fluttering around and measuring their worth by the size of their husband's bank accounts and the amount of Chanel dresses in their closets. She thought of all the men her mother tried to set her up with in the past, a shudder passing through her at some of the more terrifying memories. The only thing worse than the debutantes were the men they chased, and she would have preferred to die childless and alone than to spend 1 minute in the company of some of the men her mother "approved" of. Most of all, she wished for a way out; some other alternative to the life she had been desperately trying to avoid, but was somehow doomed to lead.
She couldn't understand the expectations placed on her, that she should be stifled by "taking her place in society" and live in an unhappy marriage, sitting at home in a beautifully appointed parlor and sipping tea, simply because she was a woman. Her father admitted that she was the driving force behind the company, she delivered more contracts than any of the other executives, and she was the only person aside from Leon who could keep Howard on a leash short enough to actually get things done. It wasn't fair, and it was tearing her apart. The contingency plan was there, of course. She could always join in the war effort, and she would have been happy to do so, but she wasn't willing to join the nursing corps. With a Bachelors degree in Biochemistry and a Masters degree in Psychology from Barnard, she was beyond overqualified to give soldiers morphine shots, take their blood and change their dressings. If she was going to serve, she wanted to make a difference. She wanted to help men live, not watch them die.
The plane landed, gliding smoothly onto the tarmac at the newly constructed Dulles airstrip just outside the city. There was a black Rolls Royce waiting for them as she walked down the staircase. The driver waved courteously as they approached, smiling at Howard with a certain familiarity that Aramis found curious. She slid into the car and pressed herself against the door, staring ahead of her instead of out the window. She had calmed down significantly, but the vestiges of her anger still remained. Howard handed her a cigarette, which she accepted gracefully. They were quiet as the car pulled away from the airstrip and headed toward the city, the familiar landscape of the capital rolling past them as they drove. She gazed out the window, watching as the scenery changed from rolling fields into the urban metropolis.
"Dad fired me today." She said out of nowhere, breaking the silence. He turned to her dramatically, whipping his head and shoulders around.
"What?!"
"Dad fired me today." She repeated herself, keeping her gaze out the window. There was another pause before Howard starting laughing sarcastically, throwing his head back and slapping his hands on his thighs as he cackled.
"Why?" He asked in disbelief.
"Mom wants me to 'take my place in society'" she said, using air quotes to mock her mother, her voice in a distinctly sarcastic tone. Howard laughed again, this time louder than before.
"Oh yes, that's going to turn out well." She cocked her eyebrow and slunk into her seat slightly.
"Tell that to them." She muttered.
"So what did he say?" Howard asked.
"At the end of this week, I will no longer work for Stark Enterprises. My options are to get married, or join the war effort."
"And you don't want to get married." He said obviously. Aramis turned to him, giving him an 'Are you kidding me?' face
"Have you seen the idiots she's tried to pair me with?"
"Rockefeller isn't so bad." She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him derisively, turning her gaze back out the window.
"Rockefeller is a drunken lecher who can't keep his dick in his pants." Howard laughed.
"I have some friends I could set you up with. Boston based families, old money and the like. Mom would approve." Aramis snorted.
"The only thing worse than marrying a Rockefeller would be spending the rest of my life tied to one of your idiot, venereal disease ridden friends. No thank you." He chortled again.
"You liked Charles when you met him!"
"Charles is married." She said, pointing out the obvious. Howard shrugged. "You're such an asshole." She said disdainfully, and looked back out the window.
"So join the war effort. Lord knows they could use someone with your brains and ambition." She turned back to him.
"Howard, I majored in biochemistry and got my masters degree in psychology from Barnard. And I technically worked in the labs at Columbia. I have zero interest in becoming a nurse."
"So go back to school and become a doctor."
"That wasn't one of the options provided to me." She said. It was quiet for a minute. She felt Howard's hand touch hers.
"I'm sorry, Boo." He said. "We'll figure it out. I promise." She smiled at him sadly, tears threatening to prick at her eyes. "Oh no. Oh no you don't. We have a briefing in 30 minutes. You are NOT going to cry before a briefing." She started giggling as he started swatting playfully at her face. "Stop! Stop it! Stop it, dammit!" She was laughing and trying to swat him away, scrunching her face and drawing her head back.
"Ack! Howard, cut it out! Okay! Okay! I'm fine!" He stopped. Saw that her tears had ceased.
"Good. Let's go sell the shit out of some clandestine weapons and make a ton of money, eh? I'll even take you out to dinner tonight if you promise to do a good job." The car had stopped.
"He said, forgetting who manages the money on business trips." she replied sarcastically. He stopped for a moment as he was getting out of the car, as if he was just remembering that she was the moneybag on this trip. He stepped out and took her arm.
"What am I going to do without you?" He said, looking down at her.
"Honestly, Howard? I have absolutely no idea."
The meeting was very strange as far as Aramis could tell. She knew that the operations of the Office of Strategic Services were technically classified as "Clandestine" and "Confidential" but she had no idea the lengths to which they would go to keep even the smallest meeting a secret. They entered a cluster of buildings, marked as "Beaux Arts" on Navy Hill, a few blocks away from the White House and The Harry S. Truman building. Upon entry, they were greeted by a strangely dressed secretary, who reminded Aramis of her middle school fine arts teacher, promising them that "Mr. Banks" was just finishing a meeting with the education department, and that he would be right out to meet them. Aramis' brow furrowed, and she looked to Howard with curiosity. His face was blank and calm, as it usually was, so she mirrored his expression and decided to just go with the flow.
She knew they were here to meet someone with whom he had attended MIT. She also knew that his name was not Mr. Banks. She sat quietly for a moment, trying to run through the details of the meeting, before the assistant stood, and told them Mr. Banks was read to see them, which Aramis found strange as she hadn't recalled seeing anyone leave. She stood and followed Howard and the assistant back into a claustrophobic hallway, with low ceilings and very poor light. The assistant opened the door, and ushered them through.
It was like stepping into a different world. The office was appointed in rich mahogany and burgundy leather. Natural light poured in through a brightly illuminated window, whose glass had been treated with acid so that the entire surface was etched, allowing light through but not providing visibility in or out. Two men stood in the office, leaning over a large table.
"Howard! So lovely to see you!" The younger man exclaimed, moving over to shake his hand.
"Stanley!" Howard responded, shaking vigorously. "It's been too long, old boy."
"And you must be the brilliant, Aramis?" She nodded. He took her outstretched hand and shook it. "Stanley Lovell. I was a professor of Howard's at MIT." She nodded, recognizing his name.
"I'm familiar with your work, Dr. Lovell. I studied biochemistry at Barnard, and had the opportunity to sit in on some of the lab work at Columbia. You have a brilliant mind for the subject." She returned his compliment.
"Another scientist." He said, though something about his reaction told Aramis that he already knew quite a few things about her. "Quite the smart family, you Starks." He said jovially. He turned to the side and ushered them further into the room, introducing the other gentleman.
"Howard, this is the man I wanted you to meet. General William Donovan, formerly of the Justice Department, and newly appointed Coordinator of Information." Howard's face lit up.
"Yes, General Donovan. I believe you and my father know one another quite well. If I'm not mistaken, he was a great supporter of your campaign for Governor." Donovan stepped forward and shook Howards hand, his piercing blue eyes taking in the spectacle before him.
"Yes! How is Howard Senior? Too old to make the trip?" He joked. Everyone laughed, especially Aramis. "It's lovely to meet you, Miss Stark." He turned his attention to Aramis.
"Likewise, General. Please, call me Aramis."
"Aramis." He nodded. "I understand you have some things you'd like to show us?"
Howard proceeded with the presentation. They went over the extended time delay he had developed on the fuses for the limpet mines, mentioning that they had increased the magnetic power to increase it's ability to hold to the target. They discussed the grenades Howard devised which, unlike a normal grenade that acted on a time delay with a fuse, would explode when it hit a target, due to the use of pressure sensors inside the surface. There were other explosives, small pistols that could fit in the palm of ones hand for easy concealment, and Howard's tour de force, the silencer.
Lovell and Donovan were stunned. His assistant entered the room.
"You rang, sir?" she said airily. Aramis couldn't remember him picking up a phone, or ringing a bell.
"Yes, be a dear and bring us some coffee, would you?" He requested. She made her exit, and the general ushered them to the couches in front of his desk, with Lovell sitting next to Aramis, Howard across from them, and the general in a plush chair at the head of the table.
"How quickly can we put his into production?" Donovan asked. Howard shrugged and looked to Aramis.
"That would be her area of expertise, sir. I'm just the tinkerer." Aramis spoke up.
"Depending on the size of the order, we could have them produced, packed, and shipped to you in a few weeks. I give you a range, because it would depend entirely on where you needed to have them shipped. But our production facilities have the prototype, and can start pumping these out in a matter of days." It was a stretch of the truth, but she knew Leon would already have the blueprints to the production facilities, so it wasn't too far.
"And the mines?" Lovell asked.
"They're really just a modification of the S-3497 model that we've been shipping to the assorted military branches already. Those could begin production tomorrow morning if need be."
"This is incredible. Truly. I haven't seen stuff of this quality since I first met Stanley." General Donovan remarked. The door opened again, and Donovan's assistant entered with coffee on a fine silver tray, and beautifully crafted mugs. She set it down in front of them and took her leave. He poured the coffee, asking each of them how they took it. Aramis and Howard thanked him graciously, and waited for the General to continue.
"I'll be honest with both of you," He said, bringing the cup to his lips. He took a small sip, and placed it back down on the table. "Initially, I took this meeting out of respect for Stanley. He's something of my Dr. Moriarty, coming up with all kinds of wicked things for us to use in this new venture we're trying to get off the ground. But then I started doing some digging into your backgrounds, and I have to say you're both incredibly impressive individuals." Stanley nodded in agreement. The general continued. "Each of you graduated high school prior to your 16th birthdays, continuing to Ivy League institutions, earning both bachelors and masters degrees in incredibly grueling subjects. You speak multiple languages, fluently. You've traveled extensively. You're incredibly well connected, and yet have managed to stay out of the public eye. You're both accomplished athletes, and are now poised to be at the helm of one of the largest munitions companies in the world, with the largest department of defense contract this country has ever seen. I have to say, it's something of a marvel." Aramis wasn't sure whether to be flattered or frightened that this man, whom she had just met not an hour ago, seemingly knew more about her than she did. "At this meeting, I had expected to forge a relationship with you, Mr. Stark, regarding consulting services for Mr. Lovell as our demand for gadgets has exceeded his capacity to provide them, but I'm now seeing there is a new opportunity here. Miss Stark, if I'm not being too forward, have you considered working in intelligence?" She was taken aback.
"I'm sorry, General Donovan. I'm not entirely sure what you mean." She said softly.
"I'm terribly sorry, let me take a step back. As Stanley said earlier, President Roosevelt has recently given me the position of 'Coordinator of Information.' Until now, all intelligence work for the United States has been done on an almost ad-hoc basis, with each division of the armed forces gathering, managing, and monitoring their own intelligence for their own missions. There is, of course, the exception of the FBI who conducts their own intelligence gathering and missions, but Mr. Hoover is something of a Napoleonic child, they all are really. And like most children, they're simply terrible at sharing. Roosevelt has envisioned a system similar to what the Brits have been using, in which there is a singular body, whose sole responsibility is to gather and distribute intelligence, thus creating a broad network of information in which multiple entities can reap the benefits, and each can receive a clearer and more whole picture. My job is to establish that body, and I'm in desperate need of smart and accomplished people to help me do so." She was trying to keep her face neutral. Howard was practically beaming. "With that in mind, Miss Stark, I'll pose my question to you again. Have you, or would you consider serving your country by working in intelligence?" She was stunned.
"The thought hadn't crossed my mind, sir." Howard recovered for her.
"This is so serendipitous, because Aramis was just telling me on the way here that she was trying to think of some way to help out in the war effort that wouldn't entail being a nurse in a hospital." Howard exclaimed clearly embellishing her words. "Weren't you?" He said pointedly.
"Howard, stop telling the general all my secrets. You're such a loudmouth." The general smiled at them, and looked to Stanley.
"You were right. He is a good liar. And apparently she is too."
That's all for now. The boys will come along soon. Please let me know what you think. Please and thank you.