It took some convincing… a lot of convincing, actually. But Tessa finally managed to get everyone on board with her long-postponed trip out to Seattle.

The Stark Industries human resources department simply needed a note from her doctor stating that she was well enough to travel unassisted. That was easy – it just required a small deal with the devil. She had Bruce – her mostly official GP – sign off on her physical fitness. And in return, she signed off on his request for a four-week long sabbatical set to begin the moment she returns.

Steve said that he'd be on board too – and would even argue on her behalf to Bucky – so long as she could prove to him that she could handle getting around on her own. Queue their rather intensive, terribly exhausting, supplemental PT sessions wherein she managed to mask every ounce of pain and fatigue to convince him of her capabilities.

Bucky, for his part, didn't put up nearly the fight she expected. "Eat like a normal person every day this week, and I'll consider it," had been his only real request. Though the look on his face when she left this morning – the almost despondent, disbelieving frown he wore when he asked, "You sure you don't want me to come along?" with a hint of hurt buried amid the teasing in his voice – told her that he didn't really expect her to go on the trip at all.

Considering that, up until a few weeks ago, she still needed his help showering and getting dressed, she's a little surprised she's going herself.

But the real problem had been Tony. At first, he simply said no. Repeatedly. No, you're not going. No way in hell. You can go to Seattle when I say, and not a minute before. Stop bringing it up, kid… I said 'no!'

But then he shit the bed on the whole 'mutant cure' thing. Not only had he neglected to warn her about the contents of Vargas' proposal, but he also spent the days that followed the board meeting actively avoiding her so that he wouldn't have to discuss it. And, of course, there was the fact that he had even greenlighted the proposal to move in front of the board to begin with. It was not his place to do that – this was her division after all, Vargas was a member of her team – and he damn well knew it.

But as was Tony's way, he'd much rather hand out gifts and concessions to make up for presumed slights than to ever admit he may have been wrong or should've done something differently. And in this instance, that was fine with Tessa. As long as she got what she wanted in the end, the why behind it didn't really matter. What did matter, though, was his one condition… he had to go out there with her.

"I should be there to introduce you to your staff," he'd told her stiffly. "And besides, there are things I need to check in on," an obvious lie.

She wasn't stupid. She knew he was going because he wanted to keep an eye on her. Because – not that he would ever admit it – her being hurt had scared the hell out of him. And when Tony gets scared, he runs. He'd spent the last few months hiding behind the excuse of needing to pick up her slack at work so that he could stay as far away from her as possible. As a result, he had missed watching her struggle when she was at her worst. So he now had no clue how far she'd actually managed to come. In his mind, she was still… broken.

And maybe it shouldn't – it probably shouldn't – but for some reason that really pisses Tessa off.

"C'mon, Tony," she snaps at him, seeing him glance out of the corner of his eye – for the umpteenth time today – at her braced leg. The same pathetic frown he's been wearing since they boarded his private jet is still plastered on his face. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine?"

His eyes slowly move over to meet her fiery gaze. "What are you talking about?" he asks with a sigh.

She leans forward in her seat, slow, heated words slipping from between her lips. "Stop staring at me."

He scoffs. "I'm not staring at you. You're so full of yourself."

"Tony," she starts, shaking her head before turning away in a huff, unable to complete her thought.

He watches her for a long moment – stares at her – as he waits for her to go on. When she doesn't, he lets out another deep, loud sigh. "I just don't want you to overdo it," he states plainly. She glances up at him, a bit taken aback by his sudden honesty. A bit irritated that he thinks he needs to somehow take care of her. He throws his hands up in the air in defeat. "I'm not allowed to worry?"

Her expression hardens. "No, Tony," she says through gritted teeth. "You're not allowed to worry." She folds her arms tightly over her chest, agitation blooming brighter merely from hearing the concern in his voice. She feels the spite swell within her a fraction of a second before the words come out. "Just like you're not allowed to cure me."

He gives her a brief look of confusion before his cheeks begin to pink and his eyes turn away in shame. Shame. That's what she feels roll off of him. Shame mixed with fear and regret and concern and – ah, there it is, she thinks as he turns back to her with a cocky smirk – indignation. "I told you, that was a sound business proposal. And in case you haven't noticed, this is a business."

"He called it a disease," she says, her voice softening despite the crispness to her words. "Do you think it's a disease? Do you think I'm diseased?" she asks, realizing just now that this is the very question she's been trying to ask him all week.

He shakes his head slowly before turning and training his gaze out the window of the plane. A thick silence falls around them and she assumes he's done talking. After all, if Tony Stark doesn't have a quick, witty retort, then he likely has nothing to offer at all.

But then his voice sounds, deep and gentle and sincere, from across the aisle. "I think your mutation nearly killed you." He turns to look at her with a wistful sort of guise. "I used to think you were just… amazing. Knowing only the little bit I knew about who you were and what you could do." All at once, his expression transforms, a drawn and bitter scowl taking over. "But now I know more. Now I know that it caused you so much pain and suffering that…" His lips clamp shut momentarily before he lets out a sharp, almost hateful sounding laugh. "Sounds like a disease to me. Yeah. And a pretty bad one at that."

It's rare for Tessa to be struck dumb. Very rare. Being quiet, being agreeable, being nonconfrontational… these things are not her strong suits. But for the first time in a very long time, she honestly doesn't have a clue what to say. So she says nothing at all.

By the time they land, her stunned silence has transformed into a willful sulk. For the rest of the day – other than the required niceties as he introduces her to key staff members at the Seattle facility – she says nothing to him at all.

If Tony's hurt by her silent treatment, or even just annoyed, he does a damn good job at keeping it from showing. He even tries to get her to go out to dinner with him and Dr. Vargas, but she claims fatigue and heads to the hotel for room service instead. It'll be hard enough to be with the two of them all day tomorrow as they tour the labs and discuss potential projects. And besides…

"I just can't… be near him right now," she laments pathetically as she video chats with Bucky that night. "I thought that he was just being… Tony. You know? Seeing an opportunity to innovate and make a buck, and jumping on it without thinking of the consequences. But… I think he actually thinks this is a good idea. A cure."

She sees his face turn stony, much as it had when she first told him about Vargas' proposal last week. His jaw tightens and ticks as he thinks on what to say, thinks about what he can say that might help. But he's at a loss. And all at once, she's sorry she mentioned anything about it at all.

"It doesn't matter," she states suddenly, shaking her head as she reaches over and plucks another fry from the plate sitting next to her on the bed. "It's not like I've never been part of discussions like this before. It's fine."

He cocks his head curiously. "When have you talked about things like this before?"

She shrugs. "Different times. This idea – finding a way to deactivate the X-gene, cure the mutant population of their affliction – it isn't anything new really. I think it just has me frazzled because so many people are clamoring for it now. Including people like Tony," she bites out with a deep frown. Then, after a long sigh, she puts on a crooked smile and raises an eyebrow at the man on the screen. "You know, before you and your other super friend came along, my kind was doing just fine being lowly, largely ignored freaks. Now that The Avengers are a thing and aliens are attacking, and inhumans are, well… out there… now all eyes are on us. And not in a good way. If it isn't Lobe trying to find a way to clone our gifts for non-mutants, it's… Stark Industries trying to fix us."

"And you blame me for that?" he asks with a smirk.

She shrugs again and goes eerily silent for a long moment, a contemplative look rolling over her features as she absently chews her food. "I think I remember talking about this with Hank," she mutters softly. Then, gathering her thoughts and looking back to Bucky. "It's weird… how I'm now remembering things." She shakes her head distractedly. "The other night I thought about something I hadn't thought about in forever."

"What's that?"

She raises her brows almost playfully. "I used to play the violin."

His face takes on an skeptical yet fascinated look. "Really?"

She nods. "When I was a kid. It's just weird because I remembered Anna playing, but… I don't know," she tells him with wide eyes. "I thought about it and I remembered it and… and it was just me. Just ten-year-old me playing Somewhere Over the Rainbow on the violin."

"That's a good choice," he hums out.

She smiles at him. "I bet you saw The Wizard of Oz when it first came out."

He nods proudly. "Damn right I did. That film was a life changer."

"Technicolor," she enthuses in a teasing tone before popping another fry into her mouth.

"You kids today," he breathes out. "You'll never understand." Tessa laughs tenderly and lets out a giant, gaping yawn. "You should get some sleep," he tells over the chat.

She gazes at him on the screen for a long moment before responding. "Tell me tomorrow will be okay," she says, a shadow passing over her features.

He simply smiles at her, all loving reassurance. "Baby, you got this."

000

"I absolutely agree that we should be devoting resources to gene therapy for certain cancers," Vargas argues from across the conference table. "That's a no brainer." He looks Dr. Chin in the eye as he states, "But that's also something that every other genetic research facility is working towards. I'd hate to put all of our eggs into a single basket that may end up yielding no return."

Emil Ramos speaks up, actually shooting a hand out in front of his colleague, Esther Chin, to silence her so that he might argue the point. "This isn't about yielding a return. This is about finding a treatment – a cure – for one of the chief killers of human beings," he finishes in a scolding tone.

Vargas barely blinks, entirely unfazed by the reproach. "Dr. Chin's research revolves around juvenile osteosarcoma, which is most assuredly not among the chief killers of human beings. If that were truly your concern, I'd think you'd want to focus more on breast cancer, even Leukemia."

"The implications of her research are far reaching. It's likely that we could find effective treatment for breast cancer using Dr. Chin's findings."

"Yes," Dr. Vargas sighs out. "That is possible. But no one is going to fund a possibility any more than they will a vaccine for Ebola." He leans forward, propping himself on his elbows at the table. "Look, I completely understand the desire to save the world, but we have to think big picture here too."

"And the 11,000 dead in west Africa from Ebola over the last two years aren't part of your big picture," he counters, emitting a smug and irritated huff.

Tessa rolls her eyes and leans forward in her seat. "Alright. Enough. We're not gathered here to bitch about bleeding hearts or call out miserly capitalists. And we're sure as hell not here to put down anyone's research. You all have proven – through that research – that you deserve to be here and to be part of this company. And now that you are here, it's your job to work together to find solutions." She glances over at Tony and sees him staring off into space, clearly not at all interested in this little meeting of the minds. "Let's just take a break," she offers with a sigh. "Go get check in at your stations, grab some coffee, and meet back here at three. And this time, bring solutions, not petty arguments."

Drs. Chin and Ramos collect their things and leave the room in silence. "You want a cappuccino?" Tony asks her on his way out.

She glances up at him, fighting the urge to toss him a dirty look. "Sure," she nods with a resigned sigh. "Thanks," before collapsing exhaustedly back in her chair.

"Dr. Sullivan?" Vargas asks softly. "I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss my proposal? I trust that you've read over it since the board meeting last week?"

She sighs long and loud before looking up at him as he looms over her. It really was only a matter of time before he brought it up. Actually, she's rather surprised it took him this long to do so. "I did," she nods, steeling her nerves for the impending discussion.

"Excellent." He drops into the seat by her side, a wide smile pulling at his lips. "I do realize that I should have come to you first. But –"

"But I wasn't here," she finishes for him. "I know. I understand."

"I do value your opinion, though. And I must say, your opinion seemed rather… anti."

She swivels her chair a bit to face him. "Dr. Vargas," she begins, countenance grim as she speaks. "I don't see the X-gene as a disease causing factor. Therefore, I don't believe that the effect of the X-gene – mutation – can be seen as a disease. Seeing as how it's not a disease, it cannot be cured. That is my opinion on your proposal."

He nods slowly, his brow furrowed as he thoughtfully processes her words. "I see," he replies. "I do see." He looks back up at her, not a hint of animosity in his voice when he says, "I disagree. I've seen a lot of people suffer from the mutant affliction."

She looks him dead in the eye, a good amount of vitriol in her voice when she says, "Over the years, I've seen a lot of people suffer for having darker skin tones too. But would you say that being African American is an affliction?"

He smiles kindly at her. "To be fair," he says with a lilt, "I'm only half African American. My father was Puerto Rican." Tessa's shoulders loosen and relax a bit at his easy response. Not for the first time, she finds herself humbled by this man's ability to remain impassive and professional, even when essentially under attack. "I would never want to change the color of my skin," he goes on. "No. Not even if it would have afforded me an easier time of it. And I did grow up in east Texas in the 1970s." He pauses just long enough to let out a light chuckle. "But I do think that you and I can both agree, my being black doesn't give me special, potentially dangerous powers."

"Of course not," she replies. "But it is – I assume – part of your identity?"

He nods. "Of course it is."

"For many mutants, being such is part of theirs."

"I'm sure it is," he says with a more serious gaze. "And I would never want to force anyone into changing who they are or how they see themselves."

"You may not, Dr. Vargas. But what is it that you think the government will do with your cure?"

"I think that they will practice good prudence. I hope that they will. And they'll only ever force the cure on someone who poses an immediate and extreme threat." He leans back in his chair and shakes his head sadly. "There are bad people in this world, Dr. Sullivan. Some of them use words to threaten and intimidate others. Some of them use guns and knives and bombs to rape, steal, kill… or to further some sort of misguided agenda. Some of them use armies to wage war on their neighbors. And some of them don't need any of these things to bring the world to its knees. Such is the way of things now."

"Dr. Vargas," she says, her tone measured. "The world has been that way for some time. Mutants are not new. These people… with extreme abilities… are not new. Only the widespread fear of them is."

He gives her a thoughtful look, cocking his head a bit as he considers not only her words, but the passion behind them. "It seems that this subject is rather near to you," he says, the words spilling slowly, almost cautiously from his lips. "I can appreciate having a personal stake in things – "

"I never said I have a personal stake in this," she interrupts quickly, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

Vargas merely smiles. "Dr. Sullivan, when I was a boy, my uncle died of Sickle Cell Disease. He never made it to his twenty-first birthday."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she says simply, her face impassive.

"It was 1974. We didn't know as much about the disease then. It was genetic, sure. But… what did that mean? And how should we treat it?" She listens aptly as he goes on. "But the truth is, very few people even cared about the answers to those questions back then." He leans in and raises his eyebrows. "It was a black disease, after all."

Despite being a bit puzzled by his rather sudden tangent, she finds her interest piqued. "Is that why you got into medicine?"

He nods. "My mother died not long after I was accepted into medical school. And before she… left, I promised her that one day I would find the cure."

Tessa's brows knit together, confusion leadening her words. "But you've never participated in research geared toward Sickle Cell," she points out.

"Haven't I?" Again, he leans back, that same confident, casual grin that he seems to wear so easily rolling back over his face. "I went to work at the FDA so that I could be on the front lines of drug approval. Maybe help push things forward for those of us who were… underrepresented. I was there when hydroxyurea was first approved for use in Sickle Cell." He gives her a self-satisfied smirk as he says, "My defining moment at that organization."

"But you moved into the private sector," she points out quickly.

"I did," he nods. "And I earned a good paycheck. Very good. And then I used that money to continually reinvest in things like vector therapies targeted a hematopoietic stem cells."

She nods then, a small ahhh falling from her lips. "That's what you were working on with Dr. Brenner at Starr Labs… I just assumed it was Cancer research."

"It was… but the implications for the treatment of Sickle Cell…" he intones, trailing off at the end. He looks at her genuinely. "I may not have been at the forefront, Dr. Sullivan. But I've always worked to position myself in such a way that would most benefit that which I hold a personal stake in. I worked to fund the research because I know that my strengths don't lie in doing the research." He lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "In this community, I'm an old man."

"Dr. Vargas, we wouldn't have hired you if we felt you were unqualified. The work you've done on immunotherapies – "

"Has offered an excellent jumping off point for scientists much younger and smarter than me," he's quick to point out with a tilt of the head and a knowing smirk. "Mr. Stark brought me on because I know the business. I have connections at the FDA, which allows recourse if our research isn't greenlighted. I know what it takes to bring a drug to market… and I know which drugs are likely to never see the light of day." He gazes at her kindly, the softness in his eyes ensuring that his next words don't come off as too patronizing. "You're young, Dr. Sullivan. Dr. Chin is young. And Dr. Ramos is… terribly idealistic. I was hired here to bring in a bit of… perspective."

"And that's what you believe you're doing with this proposal?" she asks, a frustrated, biting quality to her voice.

"Research is already being done on the X-gene… perhaps not legally. But it is happening. As you said, people are afraid. And if there's one thing I know about the business side of all this, it's that once the public begins to fear something, every research facility, every pharma firm, every single person in the business of making money, sees nothing but opportunity." He raises a serious, almost stern brow as he declares, "This isn't going away, Dr. Sullivan. In fact, it's only going to intensify."

Her gaze drops to her lap as she sadly, hesitantly nods. "Maybe," she affirms before pulling in a tight breath and smugly reconnecting with his eyes. "But I don't want this division to be opportunistic."

"Then you don't want it to succeed."

She startles only briefly, a disappointed sort of understanding slowly welling in her eyes.

"If this is important to you, if you do in fact have a personal stake… whether you believe that the X-gene is a disease-causing agent or…" He pauses and gives her a soft smile. "Or the next step in human evolution. No matter which side you're on, if you want to make a difference, I encourage you to take this opportunity. At least here you'll have some measure of control. Think of what might happen if a cure is found by some other opportunistic individual first."