Mallory Smith didn't generally like flying. However, on one of Stark's private planes, holding a glass of champagne and watching the clouds melt away whilst the jet made no sound louder than a whisper, it was rather decent.
Natasha had called again and pestered and pestered, so much so that Mallory had found herself yelling for the Widow to shut up, as yes, she was going to come to Stark's victory party. Her mother, nursing a gin and tonic, had practically screamed at her when she'd voiced concerns over leaving James.
"Don't be stupid, Mal!" Her mother had said, "You HAVE to go. James will be fine with me."
To supplement this, James turned to her and nodded. "Yeah. You should go."
Later as she'd been waiting for the cab to show up, James had came outside with her. "Could you… uhm… could you..."
Mallory put her hand on his arm, soothing his nerves. "Of course I'll see how he is."
The He in question being Captain America, a man whom Mallory had been assured would not refer to her as being any type of HYDRA subordinate for the night.
"Please." Natasha had said, when Mallory had asked again. "Do you really think he would do that?"
No, was the answer. Of course the literal personification of the American Dream would never refer to her as HYDRA Bitch at all, even if she was aligned with them again. Tony Stark, however? Probably. She kept her worries to herself and sipped more champagne. It wasn't just her on the plane either; a bunch of supermodels, actors and politicians who hadn't had the chance to organize their own travel had been booked on the plane as well. By herself, she had played Who's Who on the plane. She recognized the brunette across from her, who'd starred in a music video where she and two others had danced naked and later landed a role in that movie about the missing wife. The man on the other aisle was a famous wrestler, who was currently rocking a proportionate amount of facial hair and the same jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket combination he wore in the ring. A few others were familiar too; an actor turned rapper who perpetually looked sad, a few reality TV stars who draped over each other in the aisle and talked loudly about photo opportunities and a politician whose last run for Senator of Virginia had turned his previously auburn hair to grey after those photos had gotten out. How he showed his face in public Mallory had no idea.
Someone came out of the bathroom. The sound of the flushing toilet and running water made Mallory look up to give a cursory glance but when she realized who it was, she gaped. Oh my God. Literally starstruck, Mallory found her hands reaching for her mobile. Her signal was terrible, but she could still report the sighting via iMessage. iPhones were wonderful things.
Guess who's on Stark's private jet
It didn't take long for the message to be read, the small ellipsis bubble to appear then the box to appear with his words.
FROM: James
Who?
Daenerys motherfuckin' Targaryen
Khaleesi was standing above her, making conversation with the air hostess. Her style was impeccable, boyfriend jeans and black heels, and when she breezed past Mallory smelt the trail of pomegranates and flowers.
FROM: James
No kidding?
His enthusiasm was appreciated; she'd knew he'd never admit but he so had a crush on her.
No kidding. I'd take a photo but that'd be super creepy. She's even more beautiful irl
FROM: James
I bet
Mallory put her phone away and when the Queen herself passed, Mallory met her eyes and smiled. She wouldn't approach though; she thought it was weird when outside of conventions, meet and greets or premières, fans would go up to celebrities and ask for photos. Perhaps weird wasn't the right word. Mallory knew she would never do it herself. Her empathy levels were ridiculous, and they'd never asked to be recognized, just to do their work and play their characters. Still, Mallory couldn't help but be starstruck. Goodbye beautiful model who'd appeared naked in that video, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea was on the plane.
She wondered if it would be weird if she pulled out the novel Game of Thrones and read it in front of her.
After a short flight, and an even shorter time to change at the expensive hotel Stark decided to pay for her, she'd met Nat in a cab to take them to the Avengers Tower. Mallory knew she couldn't compete with the actresses and secret agents that were going to be at the party, so she decided to look understated on purpose. The black dress was simple, it's only notable feature being the lace Bardot top. Her shoes were silver, her eye makeup smokey and her clutch stuffed with perfume and nude lipgloss. Her prediction was corrected by Nat, who met her in the car in an expensive looking gold and black dress. Her hair was curled like a pin up, her lips shiny with gloss.
"Nervous?" Nat asked, as they headed up the elevator to the penthouse floor.
"Kinda. Open bar?"
"If there wasn't do you really think I would've invited you?"
"That's true."
The elevator pinged, and the doors parted. Wow. The penthouse was an incredible space. A huge open floor, modern and tech looking, glass overlooking the city of New York from a dizzying height. The room was packed with people of all sizes, statuses and shapes. She saw smiling supermodels talk pleasantly with military suited old men, middle aged woman laughing at jokes from young actors. The first thing that hit her was the music; smooth jazz, at a loud enough volume to have a pleasant conversation with a neighbour without leaning into each others ears. The second was the atmosphere. Despite the numerous glamorous suits and dresses the men and women wore, there was no rush to compete, no desire to walk fast. Very lazy and casual, the type of atmosphere she'd expect to see at a chilled get together for friends. Friendly. It gave Mallory ease, softening the tension in her shoulders. Despite the fact Mr Stark must have warned everybody an ex-HYDRA agent would be attending, nobody stared or moved from her path in warning. She smiled at Nat warmly, who raised her eyebrow as if she'd been aware of Mallory's reservations.
"Wow."
"I know, right?"
They stood together at the doors of the elevator, Nat placing her hand gently on her arm to point out people.
"There's Thor-" Mallory followed her hand with her eye line, spotting the tall blonde dressed regally. "-and that's Clint-" The archer wore plaid and a leather jacket. "-and that's James Rhodes, he's Stark's best friend-" She pointed to a sharply dressed man standing near a woman in a red dress.
"His wife?"
"No, that's Maria."
It took a minute, but she connected Maria with the agent who had helped them at the downing of the Triskelion. "Maria? Oh my God, she looks so different."
"Doesn't she?" Nat laughed. "Beside her is Bruce."
The Hulk looked very calm tonight, dressed casually, his hair a complete mess. Nat had spoken of him extremely fondly, but also very drunkenly at New Years Eve. Mallory couldn't see what had gotten her in such a tizz about him. Sure he was cute, but dorky looking, like the resident computer geek in high school. She had always expected Nat to want a man who looked like a linebacker in the NFL.
"Oh. And Steve?"
"Oh Steve's over there. Sam's with them, as well." Nat pushed her slightly. "Go say hi. I'll come over when I've got a drink. Do you want one?"
Mallory nodded, her throat suddenly dry, her palms sweaty. Nat pushed her again in their direction, and Mallory found her feet, her heels making loud clacking noises as she approached the pool table where they played together, absorbed in their game. Apprehension sank her stomach. She felt like Steve would take a look at her and pronounce her a liar, somehow knowing she'd been hiding James at her home, maybe from the smell on her clothes or the guilty look in her eye.
But Sam saw her first, his first look of confusion replaced with recognition and a smile. He put his cue down, and met her before she reached the table.
"Hey!" His grin was infectious and Mallory grinned back, "How you been, stranger?"
They hugged briefly, the smell of his cologne subtle and enticing, and they stepped back to admire each other. Sam wore leather well, and he smelt fantastic.
"Good. How are you?"
"Great."
Steve stepped into view. He wore a blue shirt and dress pants, his hair fluffy and blonde, looking all American and patriotic. A real beautiful man. Mallory, as she had when she'd seen him the first time, felt a little out of place and starstruck. At first he wasn't quite sure what to do; a moments hesitation in his features, as he laid down the pool cue and approached her and Sam. She didn't blame him. And then his chivalry kicked in and he shook hands with her. His smile was nothing short of a genuine enthusiasm to see her, and she was grateful for that.
"Hey. It's nice to see you again."
She smiled, gratefully. "Thank you."
His grip was firm, and they shook hands once. He stepped back and immediately, fearing the awkwardness of silence, launched into updating her on where they thought James was hiding.
It turned out Sam was doing the majority of the hunting, and he believed he had a solid trail of where James was in Brazil. The entire conversation, the way Steve's eyes filled with hope and enthusiasm, the way Sam talked passionately about it, gave her the biggest guilt complex. Would he ever forgive her if he found out, she mused as Steve's eyes bored into her as he talked. Would she ever forgive herself? In a lull of the talking, Mallory's mouth opened to say something, anything about how James was currently sitting in her living room catching up on a marathon of Gilmore Girls.
Then she closed it again. It wasn't her place. Although she had begged James to let her reveal the information, she was bound by doctor patient confidentiality. No. It was more than that. She and James had gone so beyond doctor patient relations that she was sure some committee somewhere would have her sanctioned. She didn't want to upset her friend.
So Mallory shut her mouth, and smiled up at both men.
"You both sound… busy."
"We are." Sam confessed, talking slightly into the lip of his beer bottle. Steve turned and shot him an amused look, then sighed.
"It's worth it though. I want to find him. I need to find him."
"Do the others know about your hunt?"
It was Steve's turn to look guilty. "I, uh..."
Sam cleared his throat and rescued Steve. "It's on a need to know basis at the moment. Meaning us, Nat and Fury."
"Huh."
Steve looked at her suddenly. "I know we haven't had the closest of relationships, Mallory but… I do want to know that I am grateful for all your help. I mean, if it wasn't for you I wouldn't of had a clue how to break up Bucky's memory wipe if you hadn't of told me. You took down HYDRA even though your family was apart of it and I've been treating you unfairly. You're brave, Mallory, and I want to thank yo for looking after Bucky when he wasn't himself."
Her throat was too tight to speak. Captain America had called her brave. He'd thanked her for looking after James. She was so sure she was going to cry that her hands went together, her nails seeking out her flesh to dig into. She hoped the pain would force the tears back into her eyes, that it would force away the lump in her throat.
"Thank you, Steve. That means a lot."
She couldn't stay for the rest of the party. It was too much, so she ducked out with a mere thanks to her host Mr Stark, whom looked at her with such confusion it made her laugh. The hotel she'd booked to stay in overnight was paid for by Stark, therefore she was living in the lap of luxury. Despite the silken bedsheets and complimentary champagne, she'd never felt more alone staring out on the familiar skyline of New York with regret.
Not telling Steve had been difficult but hearing him thank her was worse. She checked her phone; three texts.
FROM: Nat
Hey where did you go? I went to mix cocktails and you weren't there. Are you okay? Call me!
FROM: Nat
Mal are you alright? Call me soon!
And the last one was from James:
FROM: James
How was he?
She switched her phone off, too tired to answer both texts with an appropirate amount of enthusiasm. Ducking under the silken sheets, she tossed and turned for what felt like forever, but eventually fell asleep dreaming of cool blue eyes and the American flag.
In the morning when she switched on the news, she saw the headlines. STARK PARTY ENDS IN VIOLENCE, they said. Details were sparse, but all agreed some type of robot-looking thing had broken out of the Avengers tower and was messing with the internet.
Could things get any worse?
A/N: In honour of the Civil War trailer, I got my butt in gear and finished this chapter which had been plaguing me for months. I'll try to be more frequent in the future. I can't promise anything, but please stick with me! I know how frustrating it can be to wait.
I SWEAR I'M WORTH IT. Love to all!
