Chapter 7

Tony nearly dropped the phone when he heard those words. He could almost swear his heart skipped a beat at that dreadful news.

"What?" he finally said after what felt like a lifetime of hesitation.

"I went in to check on her just a few minutes ago to confirm it. She is in a coma. We were able to do some scans of her brain. The results are not good. There is significant trauma to her brain and it is causing swelling."

"So what are you going to do about it?" he demanded.

"To be frank, in most cases like this we would have induced a coma anyways to help protect her brain and give it the time it needed to heal."

"I'm not quite understanding you, Doctor. You just made it sound like a bad thing when you just said you would have induced one anyways to save her. Help me out here, Doc. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

"If we had induced the coma, her chances of coming out of it would have been increased. In her case, we don't know if she'll ever regain consciousness. She is in a very deep coma, Mr. Stark. She is showing little to no responsiveness to external stimuli. On our scale, I would say she has a grade 5, possibly 4, out of 15. At grade 3, she's dead. This could be a sign that we will lose her," he explained.

Tony took in a sharp breath and had to set the phone down before he gave in to his urge to throw it across the room or break it. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't die, not like this. The way the doctor was making it sound was that if she did survive her other injuries, she was probably going to be a vegetable for the rest of her life. That wasn't living. Even he would rather be dead than be a vegetable.

"Listen to me, Doc," Tony said when he finally picked up the phone again. "I don't care what you have to do or who you have to call, but you are going to do everything possible to make sure she comes out of this. Get creative, if you have to. She can't die. Do you hear me? She cannot die, not like this."

"I understand you are upset, Mr. Stark. The fact is, there is little more that we can do at this point. Whatever god you believe in, Mr. Stark, I would suggest you start praying to him, because it will take nothing short of a miracle at this point. I'm sorry."

Tony hung up after that. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. There had to be more that could be done. There had to be some sort of specialist that could do something to help her. But what if Kurosawa was right? What if there really was nothing more that could be done? He didn't want to accept that, but even he knew that sometimes you just couldn't fix something. There was such a thing as being broken beyond repair. He had done this. He had broken her, and now he couldn't even do anything to help fix her. One stupid mistake was now going to cost JC her life.

Fearing that he might do something stupid Tony headed back to the hospital. He didn't trust himself to be alone right now. At least if he tried to hurt himself he wouldn't be too far from medical help. They wouldn't let him go back to her room; visiting hours were over. So Tony settled for staying in the waiting room until they would let him back to see her. The biggest reason he had come back was the thought of her dying alone. It was always one of his greatest fears, dying alone. If this was going to be her last night, he didn't want her to be alone, even if she did hate his guts.

One of the nurse's had offered to let him sleep on one of the cots that they kept available for family members. He wasn't family, but she said that it would be all right since there was no one else using it. He politely refused it and said he would rather wait in the waiting room until he could see her. Sleep was the farthest thing from his mind right now. He was still trying to think of a way to break it to her mother when she finally arrived. There was just no gentle way of telling anyone, especially a parent, that their loved one, their child, was going to die, and if they didn't die, they would be left in a coma for what was left of their life.

The next morning the nurse came and told him he was allowed to finally go to JC's room. He didn't need any further encouraging as he strode to her room and took a seat in the corner of the room. He hadn't planned anything much further than getting to her room, and now that he was there, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. This was the part in all the movies where the loved one was supposed to start talking to the comatose patient, either conversing with them or reading some random book that was supposed to have some sort of significance to the plot. Tony didn't have some book that would have some sort of special meaning. Hell, he didn't even know why he cared so much about what happened to her. Sure, she had saved his life, but she had been nothing but abrasive to him the rest of the time he had known her. That was even before the night of the party. This wasn't his responsibility, to sit there in a hospital room with a woman he barely knew and watch her die, and he knew it. He knew he should have been on a plane back to California a long time ago. But there was that little voice, that terrible feeling that leaving her alone would be a greater crime than staying with her, even if she hated him, and rightly so.

"Hey, JC, it's me. It's Tony," he began hesitantly. "I don't know if you can hear me or anything. They say that talking to people helps them find their way back…or something like that. It's a bit farfetched for me. You don't respond to any other 'external stimuli,' as they put it. Why would talking do any good, right?"

There was no change. He knew he shouldn't have expected anything. It made him feel foolish when he looked to her for some sort of response. As if she was supposed to magically wake up at the sound of his voice.

"I guess I'll just spit it out now. At least this way I know you'll be listening and not bite my head off in return," he said more confidently. "I don't really know what happened the other night. I know you beat me up pretty good, and I know you wouldn't have done it without a good reason. Well, actually you probably might just do it because it's fun. You seem to enjoy torturing me." A smirk crossed his lips. It was annoying as hell the way she had treated him, but looking back on it, it didn't seem quite as bad as it had before. It was almost refreshing to have someone who didn't go head-over-heels and start squealing at the very mention of his name.

"Listen, I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, I'm sorry. I guess. You saved my life, and I'm sure you could have thought of a few reasons not to do it. You hate me, but you saved me anyways. For that I'm in your debt. I promise I'll do whatever I can to get you out of this. And if you never come out of it…well…" He started to trail off as he tried to think of what he could say. It was a bleak thought that he didn't even like to consider. "I know the situation your son is in now. Well, sort of. When my parents died, I didn't have a chance to say goodbye. They were just gone. I know what the loss of a parent does to a person at his age. You have to pull through this. Your son needs you. Please, just wake up."

Quiet settled over the room again as he just sat there staring at her. She was so peaceful he would have sworn she was just sleeping, that she would wake up at any second and start yelling him or try to find something to kill him with. She had threatened to kill him if she ever saw him again, after all.

Tony sat in the room for several hours just talking to her about anything that came to mind. Most of it was work related stuff that he was sure would go right over her head, if she was actually participating in the conversation. He spouted off ideas the way he would with JARVIS back at home. While she couldn't give him the kind of feedback that JARVIS could it was still an effective method of problem solving. Work eventually digressed to more personal subjects, mostly about Pepper.

"You'd like Pepper. She's one of those no-nonsense types, sharp wit, not afraid to just dive in and get things done. She even kicks my ass into doing things, usually boring stuff like meetings, fundraisers, accepting stupid awards that are just going to gather dust somewhere. She's a bit nag-ish about it too, always getting on my case for one reason or another. It's almost cute, actually, the way her nostrils flare, the little crease in her brow when everything's not quite perfect. I know everyone thinks I just hired her for…oh how did she put it…chauvinistic reasons, that's right. I'll admit, about 90% of the reason I chose her was for her looks. I've got to be seen in public with her all the time, so I needed someone that wasn't totally unattractive. But the other 10% was because I knew she was special, that she could do the job better than anyone else. I don't accept mediocrity, and she is far from mediocre," he mused.

He stared down at his watch and saw that it was nearly three in the afternoon. By his calculations her mother should have already arrived. That was only if there were no delays in her flight and traffic was moving at any decent rate. Deciding he needed a coffee break he left the room and made his way toward the cafeteria.

As he strode by the Admitting desk thinking that this would be interesting if there was no one there that spoke good English he couldn't help but notice a woman who was at least in her 60s having her own communication problems with the clerks.

"The last name is Wilcox, W-i-l-c-o-x. Can't one of you tell me where she is?" the woman asked in an exasperated tone. She had obviously had the unfortunate luck of getting the non-English speaking clerks.

"Sorry, couldn't help but over hear that name. Are you JC's mother?" he asked the woman.

She turned around with a look of relief. "Oh, thank God, someone here can speak English. Are you Mr. Stark?"

Keeping his wounded pride in check he answered, "Yes, ma'am. I'll take you to see her," and led her back to JC's room.

Tony couldn't help but notice how exhausted the poor woman looked. He imagined it had to be from worrying over her child. He was almost thankful he would never have to know what that felt like. It was one thing to worry about whether or not a stranger died. Worrying about whether a loved one was going to die, a child or parent, was something else. There was more emotional investment with a direct family member, took a greater toll on a person. When Tony had heard about his parents's death, he hadn't been given a chance to worry whether they lived or not. They never even made it to the hospital. He couldn't even begin to truly fathom what this woman was feeling now.

"How is she?" she asked as they neared her door.

"The doctor said the first 24 hours are the most crucial. So far her vitals have been getting stronger, so he's confident that she'll recover from her injuries," he said, still trying to think of the right way to break the rest of the news.

"That's good," she said hopefully. "When she called me she made it sound like she wouldn't survive to the hospital. How bad was it? Truly?" she asked, stopping just outside her door.

"It was bad," he said solemnly. "She lost a lot of blood before they got her here. I have to be honest with you. It could still go the other way."

She gave him a small smile and said, "I know that. But you don't know my daughter very well, Mr. Stark. It won't go the other way. Not if she has anything to say about it." She then walked into the room with Tony right behind her. She stifled a small gasp as she stood by the foot of the hospital bed and just stared at her daughter. He watched as she swiped away several tears before taking a seat at her daughter's side. "Do they have her sedated?"

"I don't think so. They gave her some pain meds, but no sedatives that I know of," he replied, thinking it an odd question to ask.

"What is it you're not telling me, Mr. Stark?" she asked gravely. Tony was so taken aback by her question that he could only stare in disbelief at the woman. "I know my child. I've watched her sleep for the better part of thirty years, and she has never been this still. What is wrong with my daughter?"

Tony took a steeling breath before speaking. "She fell down a flight of stairs. She hit her head pretty hard. The doctor says there's swelling in her brain and that she's in a coma."

"They induced her then?"

"No, they didn't. Sometime after she came out of the ER the doctor came to check on her and found her in a coma. He said that her coma was a grade 5. They don't know when she'll wake up."

"You mean 'if' she wakes up," she corrected. "I appreciate the effort to spare an old woman pain, but don't try. I'm a mother. We have ways of knowing things. And I know what a grade 5 coma means. It won't take much for her to go down to a 3, and then she'll be dead."

Tony looked at her with surprise again. Sure, mothers were supposed to know strange things like when their kid was lying or when they were sick or other strange motherly intuition things, but this was a little beyond motherly intuition. She seemed to notice the look on his face and gave him another one of those small smiles.

"My daughter has always had a knack for injuring herself since she was a little girl: broken bones, scrapes, cuts, concussions. You name it, she did it. I've had to learn a lot over the years. There's plenty I wish I didn't know, Mr. Stark. This is one of them," she said and turned her gaze back to her daughter.

"I don't mean to pry, but I was told she has a teenage son and that you refused to bring him along. Why is that?" he finally asked.

"He doesn't have a passport. He wouldn't have been able to come with me even if I wanted him to. And I don't want him to see her like this. His last memory of her shouldn't be in this hospital with all these tubes."

He paused for a moment debating whether or not to continue with his train of thought before making his decision. "If it's just a matter of a passport, I can get him in here to see her. I have a few friends in high places that can make that happen. If it's a matter of not wanting him to see her like this, I respectfully disagree with you. When I lost my parents the one thing I wished I could have had was the chance to say goodbye. Her son still has that chance, and I can tell you from personal experience that he would much rather be here with her than sitting at home wishing that he could be here, wishing he'd had that chance to say goodbye when he could."

She sat there in silence contemplating his words. He thought that she might reconsider, but she didn't. "You are not a parent, Mr. Stark. I have to do what is best for the boy now, and forcing him to watch her wither and die here is not what is best for him. Thank you for the thought, though. It's very kind of you."

Her thanks felt more like a slap to the face. Judging just by her age he would have assumed that she understood the feeling of loss of a loved one. Her parents were surely gone by now. If they weren't, that would be rather amazing, but it was probably unlikely that they were. Surely she would understand that need for closure. Why deny her grandson that closure? Tony just couldn't understand it, and being a parent had nothing to do with it. That much he knew for sure.

"I'll leave you two alone then," he said and turned to leave.

"If she wakes up, I'll be sure to tell her what you did for her, staying by her side like this. You didn't have to do it, but you did. I'm sure it will mean a lot."

Tony scoffed, "No offense, but when she wakes up, that's going to be the last thing that she'll want to hear. We're not exactly friends. Quite frankly, she hates me and wants absolutely nothing to do with me."

She let out a small laugh. "That means she secretly likes you, Mr. Stark."

"I highly doubt that. She threatened to kill me several times. That doesn't exactly scream 'I like you' at all."

"She did the same thing with her husband, you know?" she said reflectively. "It was the same thing with several of her friends. It was her way of being sure they were worth anything. I remember the day she came home and said that she hated her husband, who she had just started dating at the time. She was so angry at him for one reason or another all the time, but I knew what it all secretly meant, even if she didn't realize it yet. She fights people, pushes them away just to see if they'll fight to stay." She then turned her gaze on him. "She does like you in some way, Mr. Stark. I know it. In time, you would have seen it, too. You might have made good friends one day."

"Well, if that day ever comes, I'd gladly welcome it," he said, not wanting to burst the woman's bubble of happiness. He knew that JC held nothing but pure hatred for him, and she had a decent reason. He had tried to seduce her, and she didn't take very kindly to it. "I should be going now. My assistant may cause physical harm, if I don't get home to face the Press, get back to work and all. If you need anything, just give me a call."

She nodded gratefully and let him leave. He made sure to leave instructions with the doctor that all of her medical expense would be taken care of by Stark Industries. It was the very least he could do for her. Somehow, there was just no way to truly thank a person for laying down their life to save your own.

When Tony arrived back in California Pepper was a bit of a mess. She kept herself reasonably composed, but she was far from thrilled that he hadn't told her about the attack when he had called from the hospital; she'd had to learn about it through the media. He was hardly concerned about that. He had expected it from her. That was just who Pepper was.

Rhodey tried his hand at playing therapist for a few days. Tony had managed to lie through his teeth enough to get him off his back. Honestly, he felt fine. He was alive and well, and it was time to get back into the swing of things. It wasn't his style to dwell on the past like that. He was back where he was supposed to be, and whatever happened to JC…well, he would never have to see her again, which meant that she would never get hurt again because of his carelessness. That was how things were supposed to be.


"In other news, three months ago a tragic terrorist attack claimed the lives of Japanese industrialist Sato Takeshi, several members of his security staff, and nearly claimed the life of billionaire Tony Stark, if not for the sole, heroic efforts of his personal bodyguard, who will continue to remain unnamed. This individual was rushed to the hospital in critical condition after the incident and was not expect to survive the numerous injuries that were suffered during the course of the attack. This reporter can now proudly say that this brave soul has made a miraculous full recovery. While this valiant individual shall remain anonymous, their noble efforts shall not. Our prayers and thanks go out to this courageous individual and their family as well as the families of the other victims."

That was what most of the news stations across the nation had been saying about her. JC hardly thought of waking up from a coma a 'miraculous full recovery,' but it was definitely a miracle by any standard. Most other cases she had heard of that were remotely similar usually left people dead or stuck in a coma for years, if not the rest of their lives. Her other injuries had been healing very well. Her leg still had some progress to go at that point, but she was able to walk with the help of a cane.

After spending nearly two weeks in Japan the doctors finally gave permission to have her comatose body sent back to California, which her mother had been grateful for. She said that she and Darren had been in to see her everyday talking to her, reading to her, or just sitting with her in hopes that she would wake up. She had always heard the story that if you talked to someone while they were in a coma it would help them find their way back. She couldn't remember hearing their voices.

For the most part there had just been a void with no sense of whether she was alive or dead, no sense of time or space. But there was a time when that void started to disappear, and then there was a long period of what could only be described as Hell. She had dreamed of the attack, the pain, of Tony and the things he had done, of the ambush that had taken the life of her husband…of him. It had all been amplified to an excruciating extent that when she finally came back to the world it was not one of those peaceful scenes from a movie where the person wakes up as if they had only been sleeping. She had bolted out of bed screaming and flailing her body so much that she had managed to rip out her IV and pulled off most of the other wires that connected to monitors. When the nurses and doctors finally got to her they had to sedate her before she caused anymore harm to herself. The next time she awoke was much better, more calm, and her mother and son had been there. That was how the first time should have been. She was just thankful they hadn't been there for the first time.

She spent a few more days in the hospital for observation but was finally allowed to return home. As far as the doctors could tell, most of her memory was intact. The majority of the details of what happened after her fall down the stairs were pretty fuzzy, but she figured they weren't really that important. Based on all the news reports she had taken down the bad guys and saved the day. She didn't need to know much more than that. The only clear detail that she truly recalled was threatening Stark's life in the elevator on their way back to the lobby. She could almost remember the look in his eye that told her he knew she was serious, and that was all that was important to her.

Her mother had said that while she was in the hospital a man had come to see her and stayed with her for the first day or two until she was able to get to Japan. Her mother never said who the man was, just some stranger who had some sympathy for her. JC hadn't been too pleased that the hospital staff had just let anybody stay in her room with her. For all they knew it could have been another one of those terrorists who decided to get some revenge for his fallen comrades. Her mother assured her that the stranger had been no threat to her. He just kept her company so she wouldn't be alone. Her mother always got this odd smile whenever she mentioned that stranger, like she knew more than she was telling. JC knew the smile well since not only had she seen it on her mother's face plenty of times, but she used that same smile on her son on more than one occasion. It was just one of those mother things. Whoever the stranger was, he'd had some strange effect on her mother.

The strangest thing about the whole situation was that she learned Stark Industries had picked up the tab for all of her medical bills, transportation of her mother to Japan, getting her back to California, everything. She sneered when she heard the news. The last thing she wanted was to accept any money that was directly related to Tony Stark. If that was supposed to be some form of apology, it was a pretty pathetic one. She knew the smell of false sincerity when she saw it. It was publicity and nothing more. Sure, no one knew that it was her, and there was no mention in the Media that Stark was providing any aid to her or her family, but that was beside the point. She was grateful, however, that they had kept her identity anonymous. The last thing she wanted was for her mother and Darren to get tangled up in the nightmare that was the Media.

It was eleven months after the attack now, and life for JC was still crawling forward. Physical therapy had been a pain, and she was still trying to keep at it with what they called 'therapeutic' yoga. Yeah, right. She thought she had been aware of every muscle in her body before, but somehow yoga had a way of finding the ones you didn't know you had which felt more like torture than therapy. She was grateful for the toning and rebuilding of some of the muscle she had lost, but she still thought yogis were crazy for doing this insanity every day. But it wasn't just the physical aspect that she leaned on now.

Six weeks earlier her mother finally passed away. It had been expected, but it still felt so sudden. Her mother had been diagnosed with leukemia several years earlier. It had been in remission, but not long after JC had woken up from her coma, the leukemia kicked up with a vengeance and finally took her. JC was still going through her grieving process, but the yoga had helped more than she thought. Her instructor had babbled on about the energies of the body and poses that were supposed to help fight depression and anger. She'd never put much stock in the whole balance-your-chi type babble that she always heard, but even she had to admit that the yoga had made her feel emotionally better. It had definitely played a huge part in recovering from her grief.

As she lay out on her lawn behind the house in her resting pose after finishing her sequences for the day, she said her little chant that her instructor said she should do, especially after she had been exceptionally cruel to her body like today. Most of the time she just felt silly saying it out loud, but as long as there was no one to watch her, she didn't care quite so much.

"I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. Thank you. I love you."

"Apology accepted. You are forgiven. You're welcome for being an amazing friend. Well, I'd say I love you, but that would just make things weird," a familiar voice said.

She bolted up startled by the new presence in her backyard before finally relaxing when she saw who it was: a man she thought had died eleven months ago.

"Oh, my God. Carl? Is that you?"

"The one and only. Glad to see you missed me, Caiden," he said with a wide grin. Carl was the only one who ever referred to her by her middle name. She had refused to give him her first name, but he hated calling her by her initials. It was just some peeve of his that he couldn't get over. The only time he ever agreed to call her by her initials was if they were on a job, mostly because that's how everyone else knew her, and he didn't want to cause any confusion.

He gave her a hand up and hugged her tightly, lifting her up in the air and spun her around.

"I can just hear your mother now," he said when he finally put her down. "My daughter has a perfectly good first name. I don't know why she goes by those damned initials, but you will call her by that or her real name," he said in a near perfect impersonation of her mother, evil glare, wagging finger and all.

"Yeah, you always did piss her off when you did that," she laughed. "I'm gonna miss her doing that," she said reflectively.

"I only found out about it last week. I'm sorry, Caiden. Your mom was a good woman," Carl said sympathetically.

"Yeah, she was. You know, she always thought it was weird that you and I never became a couple after Brenan. She said you might as well be my husband the way you were always hanging around. You were good with Darren, too."

"Caiden, you know you're more like a sister to me. You and me together like that…it would just be weird," he said with a bit of a grimace.

"Oh, I know that. Jeez, you thought I was actually suggesting it? If we did that, I might start to feel bad about beating you up when we start sparring again," she teased. "That is, if we do. Where the hell have you been? It's been almost a year, and I don't get so much as a freaking postcard to let me know you're still alive. I know I was out of commission for a while, but you never even bothered to come see me. I know, because Mom would have told me, if you had."

He looked down at his feet guiltily for a moment. "I know. I was a jerk, and I'm sorry. Can you just trust that I had a good reason for keeping my distance?"

"We've been friends too long for you to use that. You owe me an answer. So, are you going to tell me the truth, or do I have to beat it out of you?"

"If you did that, then I wouldn't be able to tell you the big news," he offered with a placating smirk.

She eyed him warily. "What kind of news?"

"I got you a big job offer. I'll tell you all about it, if we forgo the Spanish Inquisition. Deal?"

"I've got a better deal. You tell me the job offer, and we will revisit you telling me the truth at some later date in time," she countered.

"How much later in time are we talking?"

"It's up to you. However, it has to be within one year from the end of this job. Deal?" she said and offered her hand. He contemplated her words for a moment before conceding and shook her hand. She knew he would keep his word. Whether what he would tell her was true or not was another story. "You've gotta give me a name though, just to ease some of this burning curiosity."

"A name?" he asked confused.

"The person, place, or thing that made you disappear. I don't need specifics yet. Just give me a little hint."

"That wasn't part of the deal," he reminded her.

"You owe me something. Just give me a name, and I'll leave you alone. C'mon, Carl. Just one name," she pleaded with the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

He shook his head and sighed in defeat at her. "Okay, I'll give you his name. But that's it. You should remember him: Phil Coulson," he said.

"Coulson? That little pansy from that government group whose name is way too long?" she asked a bit astonished. She remembered him. He had asked for some help on an assignment several years before for some agency that she had never even heard of. She had been dumb enough to agree at the time, but she knew now that any job that Coulson was involved with couldn't be good. If it was anything like the job she had been on, it was dangerous and most likely life-threatening.

"He is not a pansy. He does happen to have some impressive skills," Carl defended.

"Oh, I know he does. But when he's not showing them off, which is pretty rare from what I remember, he's like a little girl. He's whiny, pushy, and don't get him started on his Captain America trading cards. If he ever had the chance, he'd probably kiss the ground the captain walked on."

"So he's a little passionate about his collection. And did you ever consider it's all just a façade? He's lulling you into a false sense of security before he jumps up and kicks your ass," he pointed out.

"I don't know if you ever heard how bad my condition was in Japan, but I still could have taken Coulson out like that, gunshot wounds and all," she boasted. "Okay, enough about wimpy Coulson. What's the job? And if you say it's for him, I will possibly be forced to beat you senseless."

"Relax, Caiden, it's not for Coulson. This one's a military job," he said.

"Military? They haven't called me in for, like, five years. Don't they have about a dozen other real soldiers they could call? What do they need with a washed out lieutenant like me?"

"First off, you're not washed out. You're discharged. Secondly, you've got experience handling personal security. That's what they need. There's a weapons developer doing a demonstration in Afghanistan next week, and the guys in charge want a little extra security. Only one missile is being brought for testing. The biggest concern is if the insurgents try to take the developer. He's the only one who'd be capable of recreating the missile for them. In the event that total catastrophe strikes, they need someone who can get him out. You've been in the sandbox before, so you know what conditions to expect and how to survive if you have to take him and run. What do you say?"

"I say there's several dozen other soldiers with desert training that could run with the guy, if they had to, and they're all up to date on survival techniques. Why me? What aren't you telling me?" she asked skeptically. She knew a rat when she smelled one. Something definitely wasn't right.

"Several people were considered for this job. Your name was among them, and you got picked. It's an easy in-and-out job, Caiden. They're paying you a pretty penny for what will probably be only about six hours of real work. I don't know what you're so jumpy about."

"We were in the military for how many years, Carl? When were the missions that were labeled 'easy in-and-out' ever that easy? You're not telling me something, and I want to know what it is," she demanded.

"I'm telling you everything. You fly in the day before, check out the site, watch the demonstration, get the guy back on a plane, and then you get to come home within the hour of his departure. Easy milk run," he tried to assure her. But she knew better. Whenever Carl tried to lie to her, his nose would always twitch. His nose had been twitching since he started talking about the job.

"Fine. Who's the target?"

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"This guy I'm supposed to protect, who is he?" she clarified.

"Just one of those industrialist types, you know?" he said nervously. There was the twitch again.

"Okay, Carl, listen to me. Your nose has been twitching like a friggin' rabbit for the past five minutes. You're either lying, or you're trying to hide something, both of which are not convincing me to take the job. You can either be straight with me, or you can get off my property." She preferred the first option mostly because she didn't want to see him go yet. He was still one of her best friends, which was something she didn't have in great supply. But if he was lying to her or hiding something because it was some sort of secret government job, which she was beginning to fear was the case, if he was dealing Phil Coulson, she didn't want to have any part of it.

He let out a frustrated growl and raked his fingers through his hair. "Damn it, you are a real pain, you know that?"

"Well, you're being a jerk. I'm entitled to be a pain," she justified, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine," he sighed. "It's the same guy as last time."

"Last time? What do you mean? The last job I had was…" She trailed off when she realized what he meant. "Oh, no. No, not me. I refuse. Find someone else," she said and started toward the house. Tony Stark was the last person she ever wanted to see, let alone work for.

"Look, I know you two had your differences, and I knew you'd still be mad about him running off like that. That was the only reason I didn't tell you the whole story. But, Caiden, be reasonable. I know he was ass for running off like he did, but you did try to strangle him. There are plenty of people I can think of that would have done the same thing," Carl said as he trailed behind.

"This has nothing to do with that. That little fubar is miniscule in comparison," she snapped over her shoulder.

"Come on, Caidan. What could he have possibly done?"

She turned on her heel to face him. Part of her wanted to blurt the truth to him, tell him everything that had happened. A year ago she probably would have. Not now. He was hiding things from her, which was close enough to lying in her book.

"That bastard got me shot, Carl. I took two rounds that I shouldn't have had to, because he couldn't follow simple instructions to stay where he was. That whole incident just caused the wonderful little spiral that put me in that coma. You have no idea what kind of hell that was! I will not put myself in a situation like that again with him. If we get attacked out there and I have to run across some desert with him, he will likely get one or both us killed. I won't do it, Carl. I can't do that to my son again."

She stood there fuming at him. Oddly enough, he didn't look as perturbed at her admission as she thought he might. In fact, he didn't look disturbed at all.

"Caiden, I read the report from that day. Fine, maybe he was an idiot, and got you shot. How many times have you gotten shot protecting other people?" he asked rhetorically. "You can't blame him for everything that happened that day. Your coma was a result of swelling in your head caused by a psychopath throwing you down a flight of stairs. Tony Stark didn't do that to you. He isn't responsible for what happened."

"Are you kidding me? If he hadn't been there–"

"If it wasn't him, it would have been someone else. Takeshi was trying to sell the company to someone who could possibly protect his little secrets. No matter who decided to try next, Takeshi would have called you. Everything still would have gone to hell, because Brax still would have betrayed us. This wasn't Stark's fault."

She wanted to argue further, but there wasn't much use in it. She knew he had a valid point. She never completely blamed Stark for what had happened during the attack. She did blame him for getting her shot, but she couldn't blame him for her coma. Sure, the blood loss had only made her condition worse, but everything else that happened probably would have happened anyways, thanks to Brax. There was still plenty more that she blamed Stark for, none of which she could use to help her now, unless she wanted to tell Carl everything.

"Caiden, you need this job. You and I both know it. These pathetic little surveillance jobs you've had the past few months are a waste of your skills."

"You've been keeping tabs on me?" she demanded.

"I couldn't get in touch with you, but I wanted to make sure you were okay, all right?" he defended. "I'm sorry about what happened in Japan, okay? We both went through hell, and nothing is ever going to change that. But you are the best there is, and you know how Stark works, which will be an asset. I need you on this," he pleaded.

He was right about one thing. She hadn't had a real job since the incident in Japan. At first it was because she couldn't handle the situation if anything serious did happen. Now that her injuries were no longer an issue, she hadn't been able to get a really good job. Most people just wanted her in an advisory capacity. That wasn't where her real skill was. She was a fighter. She wasn't made to sit on the sidelines and feed information to the people doing the real job like Carl had always done for her.

"Stark doesn't actually work. That would imply he used his brain on occasion. I'm pretty sure his brain is broken. Isn't that how all geniuses are supposed to be?" she joked.

He laughed and replied, "I wouldn't say it's broken. It just operates on a different frequency than the rest of the world."

"To the rest of us normal people, that means broken."

"So does this mean you'll take the job?"

She stood there thinking it over. She really didn't want to see that man again. Even if she didn't talk to him, his very presence annoyed her. But she couldn't deny that she needed a good job again, something that didn't keep her in a surveillance room. Besides, it might even give her the opportunity to torture the little bastard.

"Yes, I'll do it," she finally conceded. "But I doubt he's gonna be that happy to see me again."

"Why would you say that? I mean, I know there was the whole strangling incident, but I'm sure he's gotten over that by now," Carl reasoned.

"I kind of threatened him with a knife in an elevator, promised to kill him, if I ever saw him again. You know, that sort of thing."

Carl's face went dead-panned. "I did not need to hear that. I really didn't need to hear that. Do you realize how uncomforting it is to hear that?"

"In my defense I was suffering from a head injury, wasn't in my right mind. You think anyone'll believe it?"

"You've got the same chance as a snowball in Hell. Just try not to mention that to anyone. But, hey, before I go, I had a question for you." She motioned for him to ask. "Why did you finally drop Brenan's name?"

He was referring to her change from being a Wilcox to being an Alwin, her maiden name. She looked at her feet nervously for a moment before answering. "It was time. I've been carrying him around for about nine years now. I needed to move on, and I know he'd want me to go forward with my life. I kept it for so long to try to give Darren some hope that he wasn't dead, but I think he's realized his dad's not coming back for a long time now."

"What happened out there wasn't your fault, Caiden. He had a moment of stupidity, and he paid the price for it. You may have dropped his name, but you're still carrying him around. You have to let it go, if you ever really want to move on," he said gently.

She had heard the same story for years from him, her mother, and several shrinks. None of them could ever understand. They weren't there when it happened. They weren't the ones in charge of keeping him safe. She was, and she had failed. Nothing was ever going to change that fact.

"I know, Carl. I'm trying," she lied. She didn't want to let it go. She couldn't let it go. Brenan's blood was on her hands. You don't just let something like that go.

"Okay then, now that we've had that little chat, back to business. A car will come pick you up on Thursday. You should be home by Sunday at some ungodly hour in the morning, but when do we ever get to come home at reasonable hours, right?"

She chuckled, "Right."

"You're the best, Caiden. You won't regret this," Carl said and headed back to his car.

"I already am, Carl," she called after him.

I already am.


AN: Only one more chapter for this one and then it's finished. Hope everyone's enjoyed it! I should start posting my Avengers fic within a few weeks of finishing this one. Hopefully. Anyways, let me know what you think, leave me a review. They always make me smile :)