Chapter Five: Belle of the Ball
Three days later, I was released from the hospital. While in there, I'd been thinking about Mo. Of course I was; she was all I thought about. But her sudden anger at me the day of the attack…what was that about? It was that idea that plagued my mind for seventy-two hours.
"Agent Barton, we need you in the conference room immediately."
I stood from my hospital bed and waved a final good-bye to Taylor. "It'll be a while before I'm back in here, hopefully," I remarked with a smile. She grinned at me as I walked out. "I'm on my way, Fury," I spoke into my earpiece. "What's going on?"
"Just get here, Agent."
I sighed. "Yes, sir."
Taking long strides down the empty hallways, I was there in no time. Fury was just ahead of me, escorting Mo inside the room. I steeled myself and slid in right behind her.
The rest of the team was already there. Thor and Banner were talking quietly, every once in a while throwing a look at Mo. Rogers was sitting perfectly upright; must have been habit, being in the military and all. Natasha was looking at her fingers. Stark was lounging with his feet on the table.
Mo seemed to notice me then. "Shouldn't you be on bed rest?"
"Got out early for good behavior," I replied emotionlessly. I didn't want to set her off again, not before I knew what made her tick. From the look in her eye, I wasn't quite there yet. So I directed my attention at Fury. "What's the problem?"
"We've received intelligence from an unnamed source, claiming to know of a man involved with the alien attack" was his curt answer.
I raised my eyebrows. Wow, really? I thought, impressed. We had information already? And of that magnitude, too. Must have been a new record around S.H.I.E.L.D.
"What would you like us to do, sir?" Rogers asked.
Fury started pacing, keeping his gaze from resting on any of us. That probably wasn't a good sign. "The man goes by the name Chris Garfield, who supposedly has a lot of money. It would also appear as though he's hosting a party this weekend. And everyone is invited."
What? That's it? Seven pairs of eyes were trained on his face, yearning for more.
"Agent Romanoff." I watched Natasha put her hand down and fix Fury with a level stare. "We need you to keep the guards busy. We don't want any trouble arising before the mission is complete. As for the rest of you, go find something nice to wear." Then he left the room without a backward glance. "Also, make sure you can dance by Saturday night."
Mo looked like she was having difficulty keeping up. The confused look on her face was priceless, and sort of adorable, though I'd never tell her so. "That's it?" she scoffed. "No other instructions?"
"Looks like we're on our own this time," Rogers replied.
Stark began to laugh. "Well, this should be fun."
"Does he really want me to be in where there's a crowd? I can see that not going very well," Banner spoke up, staring at the floor with his wrist in his other hand.
"You'll be fine, Banner. We all trust you," Natasha told him in her convincing voice that she used in extreme cases. Very rarely was she ever that kind, but she had a kind of soft spot for our unstable friend. Mo was nodding beside her, a reassuring smile on her face.
I crossed my arms across my chest and leaned back against the wall, mindful of my stitches. Oddly enough, they looked almost identical to the ones that Mo had. I snorted at this realization before switching my attention to Rogers, our designated leader. "So, what's the plan?"
Rogers had that look that he got when he was thinking hard. "Where would Mr. Garfield keep his information?"
There was a pause while we thought. Personally, I had nothing, but Mo appeared to be onto something. "In a locked room, maybe?" she supplied hesitantly. "That seems to be a recurring theme with these types of people." There were nods of approval, and she smiled.
"Right," Rogers nodded.
"Or in a computer. I could get Jarvis to hack into his systems." Stark had a thumb pressed to his chin, his eyes narrowed at something the rest of us couldn't see.
Natasha decided to speak up in her typical dry manner. "Do you realize how much attention you'd draw, Stark, being you? Trying to hack into the computers would only cause more problems for us."
Slowly, Stark's prize-winning grin spread across his lips. Humor danced in brown eyes. "That's why you'll be 'distracting' the guards, Romanoff. Leave the heavy work to us."
Natasha rolled her eyes while Mo countered with "Shut up, Stark."
"I do not understand. Will we not stand out from this group of Midgardians? They must all have seen our faces before," Thor put in, adding an excellent point that I hadn't considered. By the look on Rogers's face, I assumed he hadn't, either.
Fury decided to rejoin the party through our earpieces. "Lucky it's a masquerade party then. Find a mask, find an outfit. Listen closely, now: Agent Mo is going to be our infiltrator."
Six pairs of eyes turned in surprise to Mo's face, which wasn't registering any sort of emotion. All she did was press a finger against her ear, like she was either trying to hear him more clearly or shut the noise out altogether. I wasn't sure which one I believed.
Fury was continuing on. "The rest of you are to act as normal partygoers. Ask around for information while Agent Mo is off doing her thing. Agent Romanoff, try doing the same before you damage the guards too much." I snorted, and so did several of the others. "Am I making myself clear?"
Nods all around. "Yes, sir," Rogers replied, answering for the rest of us.
"Good." And that was that.
Disbelief was a pretty common look after that. I was still having difficulty comprehending that we had gotten a lead so soon after the aliens' appearance. And, of course, I was wondering why Mo didn't look worried. Oh well, I shrugged. I can worry about her enough for both of us.
Stark was looking pleased with himself. In that ridiculous Captain America pose he liked to imitate, he caroled, "I am buying all of your suits and dresses." Before anyone could say anything, he held up his hand for silence. "No need to thank me, patrons, I've got more money than I can handle anyway."
I shook my head. Yeah, you do. That's why Pepper handles it.
A plan was rustled up not long after, with minimal input on my part. I was too busy watching Mo. But the idea was something like this: Natasha would distract the guards, Mo would find Garfield and investigate, and the rest of us would ask around for any further clues.
Simple enough.
Rogers dismissed us after all of that was settled. I was toward the back of the group as we filed out, and Mo slid back to linger by me. "Hey, you," she said quietly. "What's bothering you?"
I wouldn't look at her when I answered, "Nothing."
"I'm sorry for being cross with you the other day. I'm not sure what came over me." Her hand was resting ever so lightly on my arm, but it was enough to send chills up my spine. Still I refused to meet her gaze, even though undertones of concern littered her words.
"No, I get it. Sometimes the city changes people," I told her, being completely honest.
I could feel her shock. "Did it change you?"
Now I did look at her, and my eyes met her for what seemed like an eternity. All the emotions she'd been hiding earlier were present now: all of the fear, the worry, and also the excitement. I wanted to hug her, to tell her it would all be okay, but her question was still ringing in my head. Did it change you?
I walked away toward the flight deck, knowing it was opposite the way she had to go, and knowing she wouldn't follow. I left her standing there without an answer, but what I would have, should have, said was playing over and over again in my consciousness.
Yes, Mo, I thought wearily. The city changed me. It turned me into a monster. A monster that falls in love with a young girl and can't let that grip go. And it disgusts me, Mo, but what can I do? What can I do but love you?
oOoOo
I tugged distractedly at my tuxedo's sleeves. Smooth black material slipped through my fingers. My white bowtie was choking me, and the thought of looking exactly like the rest of the guys was beginning to lose its initial effect. It wasn't so funny anymore.
Nevertheless, as we waited outside the women's bathroom door, I couldn't help but notice how odd it was to see us all dressed up fancily. It was a bit like when we went to get Mo, only with more…fashion?
Natasha looked wonderful in her long black dress. Her spidery looking masquerade mask dangled from her fingertips as she flashed me a smile. I smiled back and returned my attention to the door.
Stark had been tapping his feet impatiently, but he was striding forward now to bang a thick fist against the metal. "Mo? How long can it possibly take you in there?" he hollered, irritation flaring in his eyes.
The door slowly opened, and he took a step backward. Out walked Mo, her face down and hidden behind her straightened hair. It looked lighter and longer. When she spoke, her voice was barely higher than a whisper, yet it was so quiet in the room that I could catch every word. "It'd take you a little while to make yourself look older, too, Stark. But I guess you'd have to try making yourself look younger first."
I laughed. Stark, with very obvious sarcasm, countered with "Very funny. Now, look at us."
Nobody was prepared for what happened when she lifted her head. Everything went deadly silent, quieter than it'd been before. And yes, that was entirely possible. Because the girl – no, she looked more like an adult now – deserved the lack of sound while we took her in.
Her hair hung to the middle of her back. The dress she wore was beautiful. White silk fell to her knees and caressed one arm, the arm that held her cuts. Her grayish eyes were trained on the ceiling, ringed by smoky black that came to points at the outer edges. Her lips pressed together in a ruby red pout. Black heels made her inches taller. Her hand rested on her hip.
Every viewing face registered shock in its rawest form. Widened eyes, slack jaws, and raised eyebrows. My display was completed with a quickening heartbeat and a loss for any sort of words. Stark looked to be in a similar state, as did the rest of the men. Natasha's look was a mixture of astonishment and jealousy. She had every reason to be the latter.
"Well?" Mo snarled, tearing her attention away from the ceiling. Twitchy fingers smoothed out curls that weren't there. "What?" she asked, and those hands went to the end of her dress as she pulled at it self-consciously.
Someone cleared their throat. "What do we think?" Rogers asked.
After several failed attempts at speech, Stark finally gave a small, quavering laugh. "I think I wish I was Chris Garfield."
Mo chewed her bottom lip. "Where's my mask?" she inquired.
Rogers pointed to a table where the final mask laid, the one made specifically for Mo. All of ours were custom made, but I liked hers more than anyone else's. It resembled a cat.
With the mask on, she started to laugh. "Y-you all match!"
It took me a moment to realize she was referring to Stark, Rogers, Banner, Thor, and me. When I did notice, however, it worried me a little. Her behavior did, actually; this wasn't like her, acting hysterical like that.
"It's just from nervous tension." That was Banner's voice. "She'll be fine once we get there."
"I'm fine now!" she exclaimed, ushering us to forget she'd done that. Another little giggle slipped out. She crossed her arms and glared.
"We should get going then, shouldn't we?" Stark strode forward while the rest of us stood there, unsure of what to do. He easily linked an arm through Mo's and dragged her toward the elevator. "Gorgeous, your chariot awaits," he said proudly, shooting me a triumphant glance over his shoulder.
So, he must suspect something, then, I thought angrily. I showed no emotion on my face, but I chewed on the inside of my cheek in frustration.
After all, I'd just lost my date to Stark.
oOoOo
Arms crossed, my eyes narrowed on Stark's leering face. His own mask was shielding his eyes from my view, but I knew they contained silent gloating. That was just how he was.
Rogers gathered us in a circle. Heads bent close together, our voices lowered so as not to be heard by the guests that were flowing in. In that moment, we were ducked behind some stranger's car. "Does everyone remember what they're supposed to be doing?" Rogers murmured. One by one, we all nodded. "Good. Best of luck to you all."
We backed up and moved away from each other, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Natasha began to walk toward the front door, Rogers right behind her. Before she went, she placed a hand on Mo's arm. And then she was gone.
I couldn't see Mo's eyes, either. Even if they hadn't been covered, the sun was setting and light was fading quickly. Some part of me knew that she was a little worried about what was going to happen.
With quiet footsteps, I went to stand behind her. "They'll be fine," I whispered into her ear.
"I know they will," she said back, her voice heavy with relief. Relief at what? I sure as hell didn't know. We hadn't even entered the house and she was talking like it was over.
I shrugged and left her with Stark. Collecting Banner from where he stood nearby, the two of us followed in Natasha and Rogers's footsteps, taking easy strides toward where warm light was shining from an open door.
"Well, this will be fun," Banner laughed. "Do you want to take a bet on how long it'll be before the other guy makes an appearance?"
I chuckled. "No, I'd prefer a bet over whether or not our host makes one. That'd seem fairer to me, anyway." Internally, I was hoping that Chris Garfield wouldn't show up at all. It'd keep Mo and the rest of us safer. But there was no chance of that happening; it was the guy's house, and who could stay away from Mo, especially when she was dressed like that?
My words started a round of inquiries about the mystery man. "Do you think he's ugly?" Banner asked.
"Nah, I bet he looks like a supermodel."
"What kind of supermodel?"
"Underwear model, maybe? Those make the most money, right?"
"How should I know? I wasn't one."
"I bet he got all his money from Daddy."
"Sounds about right. Or he stole it. I could picture that."
"Could be. Married?"
"Let's hope not. Otherwise Mo doesn't stand a chance."
That sobered up our joviality. Mo had to succeed. If not, we had nothing to report to Fury. No way of knowing if our guy was working with the aliens. There's no way anyone else would know; it's not the kind of thing you just tell complete strangers.
"She's going to be all right, Barton." Banner was giving me a stern look as we passed by the guards. "We're going to make sure of it."
I sighed. "Yeah, I know. So what do we do now?"
For a moment there wasn't an answer, besides the obvious one. Ask questions. But how would we go about that? I spied a table standing not far off. Cups were filled to the brim with amber liquid.
Banner saw it, too. "We get beer."
oOoOo
An empty glass in my hand, I leaned against one of the grand staircases, feeling very much discouraged. So far, Banner and I hadn't come up with anything even remotely useful in our hunt for information, and the sight of Mo dancing with Stark made me want to pull my teeth out with pliers.
From where the two of us stood at the side of the room, it was easy enough to spy on everyone there. Not that anything looked suspicious. Thor was chatting with a group of college girls with eyes as big as saucers. Stark was laughing with a group of older gentlemen. Rogers had Mo in his arms now.
"Where do you suppose Garfield is?" I asked, chewing on my thumb and staring intently at Mo's face as she switched over to Thor.
Banner finished the last swallow of his drink. "It is a little odd that he hasn't shown up yet." He looked at me. "What do you want to do?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a group of guys standing around enjoying the free booze. There was about five or six of them, and each was dressed exquisitely. Surely they'd know where the man of the hour was. No, I thought. You can't just walk over and ask. They'd laugh at you. You just need…
I quickly explained my thoughts to Banner, and off he went. I rested the glass on one of the stairs and turned my back on the crowd. An eager grin spread across my lips, flashing teeth at nobody in particular.
It wasn't long until Banner was back with our cargo. "Here, I brought her. I don't see why you couldn't just get her yourself." Then Banner was gone, melting back into the crowd.
With a broad smile, I spun around any kissed Mo on one of her hands. "May I have this dance?" I requested, fluttering my eyelashes imploringly at her.
She let out a giggle, her blue eyes shining with good humor. "Of course you can. What's with all this?" Her mouth twisted into a smirk as she looked me up and down.
I rested my free hand on her waist and pulled her close against me. I leaned forward until our noses were almost touching, and replied, "Stepping up the show, dear Mo."
Brief shock registered before she asked, "What do you mean?"
"Garfield hasn't made an appearance yet. I was just thinking, and Banner and Thor helped me with it, but you need to look more desirable. Well, more than you already do." I winked. "Just dancing with us won't cut it. You could be any girl dancing with any guy. But instead, you're Mo, dancing with me."
With the sweetest of smiles, she tilted her head. "And what difference should that make?"
"We're not just dancing. We're going to move around, together, and socialize. Get you noticed. You can't stay on the dance floor and expect him to see you." I lifted my arm and spun her in a circle. "So let's go."
To my satisfaction, she didn't let go of my hand as we walked away from the mass of dancing bodies. I escorted her to the men I'd taken notice of earlier. In my best winning voice, I greeted them with, "Hello, nice evening, isn't it?"
Eyes of various colors turned hungry eyes to Mo, travelling and exploring every inch of her body. Suddenly, I was thinking this was a bad, very bad, idea. Trying not to look conspicuous, I moved to the left, shielding her body with most of mine. "Beautiful night, in fact," I continued, my voice hardening.
One of the men sported dark hair that grew so long that it almost covered both of his equally dark eyes. "Who's your friend?" he asked, his voice friendly with undertones of danger.
"This is Jenna," I answered. "My girlfriend."
I knew I'd taken it too far when Mo came to stand shoulder to shoulder with me. She lifted our hands and rubbed them against her cheek. "But we aren't exclusive," she added. Her tone was of absolute seduction, and I kind of wished – no, desperately wished – that I was Chris Garfield, or even this man here, just to be on the receiving end of her words.
The man stalked up to Mo and lifted her chin with one finger. "Is that so?" he asked with a wolfish grin. "Well, Jenna, you're the most gorgeous girl I've seen here all night. Prettier than night itself."
I almost gagged, and from the look on Mo's face, she almost did too. Where did this guy get his pickup lines from? Although, they wouldn't matter much to any dimwitted girl; he had impressive looks, for sure. But it'd take more than that to get Mo to pine after him. Stark was like that to, and she absolutely despised him.
"Am I really?" she asked.
With gentle fingers, I turned her face my way, stepping up my act. This guy wasn't taking Mo from me. "You should know, kitten, I tell you every day."
She wrenched her head away from me and looked back to those dark eyes. With an air of irritation, she snapped, "Jeremy, please, you're smothering me." I raised my eyebrows. Jeremy? Did she just call me Jeremy? "So, you boys must know our host, yes?" she continued.
"Who wants to know?" The guy was looking a little pissed that I'd just diverted Mo's attention from him, if only for a little bit. It made me feel good inside, but he crossed his arms with a glare.
"Why, me, of course. I've been looking for him all night." Her blue eyes clouded with hurt that I sincerely hoped was fake. Otherwise, I'd break his neck.
Without any warning whatsoever, Mo was pulled from my grasp and twirled in a circle. The guy had bent her backward and was holding her way too close. He looked all too comfortable in that position. "Well, Princess, you found me. And now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?"
As they righted themselves, Mo replied easily with "Well, Mr. Garfield, I guess it's up to you."
I kept my jaw from dropping in surprise as I met the thieving gaze of our host.
