(Chapter 8) Protective Custody

Author's Note:: I woke up the morning after I published Chapter 7 and my e-mail inbox was FULL of "New Story Favorite" and "New Story Follower" and even a couple of reviews. Repeat performance? Oh, and the song I use for the breaks is the Gray Havens' "If the Walls Move." Enjoy!


Like spells on the floor

Like clouds watch them soar

Empty canvases whisper promises

That we'll turn into paint

If we jump out of our frames

On the Helicarrier's Bridge,

The group moved from the Med Facility to the bridge, and by the time Captain America and Bruce Banner joined them, Agent Hill had returned from escorting Molly to her room and was engaged in a heated debate with the rest of the group.

"Sir, they injected her because they knew we would have to take her here to get checked out. They only want her to lead them to us," Agent Hill argued from where she stood at the head of the table, close to Director Fury.

"Well, joke's on them because you can't teleport onto the Helicarrier," Stark commented from his seat at the opposite end of the table. Unlike Agent Hill who stood with crossed arms, Stark sat leaning back in his chair, his legs outstretched on the table and one elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, supporting a head which was far too big for him to hold up. His other hand remained free for him to use as he talked.

"They don't know that," Agent Hill retorted.

"They weren't tracking her to get to us. They didn't significantly cut her throat until they heard her name," Barton answered slowly in a tight voice, as if he was restraining himself from doing something that he'd regret. "They want her." He sat next to Stark towards the back of the table, on the same side as Agent Hill. Captain America moved to sit in the seat across from him as Dr. Banner took the empty chair between the doctor and Natasha.

"Why would they want a civilian?" Hill questioned.

"They think she's a game piece, that she knows more than she actually does," Natasha replied, coolly. "At least, that's what they told her."

"Did she reveal anything else in your interrogation?" Director Fury spoke for the first time, turning to face Natasha from where he stood.

"No. She has no information, and she's not trying to hide anything either. She's just a baker who went to school for art history with no real background in physics or any other science. She was genuinely confused as to why they would choose to target and attack her," Natasha reported in measured tones. "If you're looking for my assessment of the issue, I think that we've become so entangled with her that they assume she's a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. or at least a part of our plan."

"Part of our plan," Stark repeated. "You know, I have a theory about all of this too, but I'm going to elect to skip my turn and pass to Fury. Just, why is S.H.I.E.L.D. so entangled in Molly's life?" He turned to Director Fury as if expecting him to break down and confess an ulterior motive.

"The real question is what do we do with her now that she is," Captain America spoke solemnly, effectively thwarting Stark's attempt to draw information out of Director Fury.

"We have to protect her." Barton was quiet, yet firm.

"You can't possibly be suggesting that we keep her here while they're tracking her," Hill argued.

"What would you have us do? Drop her off and hope for the best?" Barton growled.

"Sir, the aliens may have a spacecraft as well. They could be following us right now. If this ship goes down, think about all of the work that will be lost, not to mention all of the operatives. Is this one girl really worth it?" Agent Hill appealed to Director Fury, ignoring Barton glares.

"Agent Hill, I would remind you that it is our duty to protect all citizens to the utmost extent of our power," Director Fury responded, leveling a look at Agent Hill, who stepped back and looked away. "Besides, if the Evorsors were tracking us, we would have heard about it by now. We'll keep Ms. McKay here in protective custody until we can find Talbot and deal with him."

"So, she's just going to be locked up in her room for weeks?" Barton asked.

"I've been in a cage. You can't do that to an innocent girl." Banner shook his head.

"She should know what's going on. Like it or not, she's in this," Barton pushed.

"She's not," Hill snapped. "She's a civilian, and this is a Level Seven priority. There are some agents on board who don't know anything about this."

"I'm sure that Pepper Potts is already quite aware of what's happening in this investigation," Natasha remarked, calmly.

"In my defense, Pepper is quite literally my better half. People like dealing with her far more than they like dealing with me, which I for one don't get. I'm the fun one," Stark responded. No one offered any comments. Not even on his incorrect use of the word literally.

"Molly's directly involved. With or without clearances, she already knows almost as much as we do. She was there at the gala and Stark's party," Barton argued. "Talbot even directly spoke directly to her about the Perditrix."

"These Evorsors are just going to keep looking for her until this Talbot is taken care of," Captain America supported.

"Whether or not she was one before, they've turned her into a game piece." Natasha stated, grimly. The chilling fact washed over them, creating a moment of tense silence, broken by Stark putting in his two cents.

"What can it hurt? So Strawberry Shortcake knows a little more about why people are trying to kill her. What's she going to do? People already know there are aliens are the loose." Stark leaned back farther in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. "She could even be useful. She may not have a background in science, but she has a working understanding of iridium and its uses."

"What?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Her father taught her about it apparently. I don't know what kind of high school science he was teaching, but I would have—" he was silenced by the looks of the people around the table. The director had turned his back to the group in the middle of Stark's comment, and silence had once again settled over them as they all watched the director, trying to read his thoughts. A minute passed like this before finally, he slowly turned around.

"I suppose," he started, pausing. "It may be for the best to bring her up to speed."

Agent Hill looked less than pleased with this decision, but she set her jaw and kept her mouth shut.

"Excellent," Stark said taking his feet off the table, and letting them land hard on the floor as he leaned forward, resting his arms where his feet had just been. "Now who's going to tell her?"

Look up from these shadows

Mysterious castles

They sail through the sky

There's a painter inside

In Molly's Room in the Helicarrier,

Molly sat in her small room staring at the door.

Now this was hardly fair.

First, she's hired to work at a party where an alien crashes in and ruins her otherwise nice night. Then, she's booked to work another party where the same alien attacks her personally, sending her to the hospital and keeping her home from work for a few days. Then, the same exact alien breaks into her apartment, trashes all of her stuff, attacks her for a second time, and forces her to leave her home and job and lie to everyone she knows (minus her mother) about where she is and what's happening for her own safety. And apparently safety meant being locked in a glorified closet and treated like a prisoner of war. And she didn't even have the faintest idea as to what the hell was going on. If this was the excitement and adventure that most people dreamed about, they could keep it; she didn't want it. In fact, if they didn't have any, she would gladly give them all of hers. All Molly wanted was to be back at home, in her apartment, scrolling through Pinterest and finding cool outfits for the fall and sweet cupcake designs. And if she couldn't have Pinterest, she wanted Pepper. She would never have locked Molly away, and if she had been forced to, Pepper would have at least been thoughtful enough to make sure Molly had a cellmate or a kindly guard or something.

As it was, Molly sat kept in what was probably one of the nicer rooms in the Helicarrier despite her objections to its size. She was one of the few people lucky enough to never have lived in the stereotypical New York City shoebox apartment, for if she had, the room would have appeared rather nice, spacious even. There was a good twin-sized bed pushed up against the back wall on the left side of the room, and about three or four feet away from the head of the bed was the door to the full-sized bathroom. Across from the foot of her bed, and actually a little bit to the right, was a desk and a matching chair on the room's right wall. And from where Molly sat on the bed, her legs dangling over its side, she was faced the wardrobe and the door to the room. She was lucky enough to have a solid metal door, unlike some of the glass ones that she had seen on her walk to the room. It opened with the push of a small switch that was slightly to the left of the door, next to the light switch. The two panels were pretty much identical, both had the switch that would either turn the lights on or open the door and a slider that would adjust the brightness of lights or, well, she wasn't quite sure what it would do to the door. Molly had only seen Agent Hill flip on the lights, open the door, and leave which was how she had known which controls managed which aspect of the room.

It would be so easy for her to escape confinement and run around the Helicarrier, but once she got out, what would she do? Constantly be on the run, hiding on an unfamiliar ship/plane from top-level agents who probably knew the place better than the backs of their hands? Yeah, that would turn out well. She was just a baker from Manhattan; she didn't have that skillset.

There was a knock at the door. Molly stood up quickly from the bed, and stared at the door. Sure, she felt like she had been here long enough—probably close to forty-five minutes—but she hadn't actually expected anyone to get her until it was time to eat. She glanced at her cell phone. It was close to dinnertime. Past time actually. A second knock reminded her that she had yet to answer the door. Molly crossed to the button and rather than taking the opportunity to figure out what the slider did, she hit the switch, causing the door to slide away.

Clint stood in front of her.

It was the best surprise she'd gotten all day.

"Hi," she breathed. He nodded back at her. "Are you my armed guard?" She had meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, and only realized after the quip had left her mouth that it had come out rather sassily. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, pushing hair behind her ear. He shook his head.

"No." He paused. "I'm sorry." The sympathetic response sent her fumbling for words trying to come up with some response. He had been so stern in her apartment and in the car, she hadn't expected there to be any softness to him. His voice wasn't even as rough as it normally was. The only thing that fit her image of Clint was the intense air about him as he stood in her doorframe.

"You're just doing your jobs," Molly responded softly. "And I'm just…not having the best day." The last part came out in a sort of sad laugh. That sentence was an understatement if she'd ever heard one. A wry smile crossed his face as he looked down at the floor, and then back up at her.

"We forget," he started, paused, and then collected himself as if trying to think through the statement as he said it. "We forget that we were all in your shoes, overwhelmed and unsure of what's going on or why it's happening to you. In our victories, we've lost sight of what we actually overcame."

If this was supposed to be some quotable motivational pep talk, it wasn't really working. Molly was unsure of what to do with the unasked for intimacy. On the one hand she really, truly, appreciated it. On the other, it seemed so unlike him. He was supposed to have it all together and be strong and forceful and firm. He could be cookie cutter sympathetic, but this was a too real. Pepper was allowed to make the emotional connections. Even Natasha seemed like she had the sort of character who could share this sentiment with Molly, but Clint…it was different from Pepper or Natasha being sent over to play diplomat and damage control. Hearing the reassurances come from his lips made it seem as if there was a significant possibility that this situation was worse than she had expected. That everything may not be all right; that the agents didn't have things under control, otherwise they would continue to keep her in the dark and separated until their plan was enacted, and she could be safely deposited at home. It had all seemed sort of like a bad movie or some sort of weird dream up until now. That was why she felt so uncomfortable. It wasn't him. It was what he stood for. She was screwed.

Molly looked back to him, and found herself captivated by his eyes. They affirmed her fears. She could have cried. Instead, she remained frozen, staring at him, a mixture of feelings welling up in her. There was a form of grief and some sort of terror and this tension that she didn't want to think about any more than the fact that it was there. "Thank you," she whispered at last, and they stared at each other for a few moments longer. If this had been the bad movie that Molly thought she was in, something would have happened in those moments. As it was, both remained rooted firmly in their places, just staring, having three different conversations at once. She couldn't take the silence or the staring any longer. She quickly turned her head to the side, looking over his shoulder into the hall. "Thank you for everything. For saving my life…twice. For taking care of my mom…" she trailed off, and looked back at him. Silent and unmovable. "For being honest about my situation."

He nodded and then let out a small sigh.

"Are you here to take me to dinner?" Molly changed the subject, hoping it would make them both feel better. He cleared his throat, seeming to come out of whatever state he'd been in.

"No. I came to tell you that Director Fury has changed his mind. You're free to leave your room as you please. There are certain parts of the ship that are off limits, but they're clearly marked, and you couldn't even get in if you tried." If Molly had been the adventurous type she would have taken that as a challenge. As it was she was just thankful that she wouldn't end up in the wrong place at the wrong time again. "I also came because the Director wants you at the debriefing."

"You mean—"

He nodded.

So, Molly McKay was now officially about to hang out with the Avengers team. Well. Beth could eat her heart out.


Ending Thoughts: This chapter came out much different than I thought it would when I started writing it. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Also, if you want to comment on your favorite scenes or lines in the story so far that would be awesome. So, feel free to review or message me. I'm pretty friendly. The next chapter should be up shortly after Thanksgiving.