Team Iron Man Vs Aftermath
Liz
Numb
I'm just numb.
I can't feel anything but emptiness. I don't feel anything but cold.
The beeping of the heart monitors fails to reach my deaf ears, and I completely disregard the flurry of agents and nurses walking in and out of the room.
I don't remember the last time I've been this still. The last time I've been this quiet.
The last time I've been this numb.
My legs protest in pain, both from the lack of treatment it received and the fact that I've been sitting in this tiny chair for the past few hours, the chair that is pressed up against Tony's hospital bed. He's yet to regain consciousness, he's only breathing with the help of the ventilator, and there are several bruises scattered across his torso, along with a large gauze that is the last indication of the internal bleeding he suffered as we were taking him back from Siberia.
He should have woken up an hour ago. He shouldn't need help breathing. The thought itself would have made me break down and cry on a normal day. I remember being in a constant state of tears and hysterics when he went missing in Afghanistan. I remember not being able to get through one day without breaking down and crying.
That girl; that Elizabeth Stark seems like a completely different person. Her memories don't seem like my own. That girl seems happier, and peaceful, and free, and alive.
I feel nothing.
You have to live Elizabeth; you need to live whole-heartedly with no regrets. Don't you ever stop shining sweetheart, for the world needs the sun.
As soon as the words enter my head, the metal walls that have risen up within the past few hours block them out. I'm not willing to remember my mom, not right now.
My head snaps up for the first time that hour and my eyes focus on Aunt Peggy, balancing on her cane and walking into the overly large hospital suite.
Her gaze immediately drops to Tony, and she places one hand over her mouth in a sign of distress. I stare at her impassively, unable to regain the energy to go and comfort her. The uncharacteristic act isn't lost on my godmother as she strides forwards to me, her arms raised in a gesture I know indicates the coming of a hug.
"Oh, sweetheart, what happened?"
Don't you ever stop shining sweetheart.
I place my hands in a defence position in front of my chest, preventing Aunt Peg's arms from wrapping themselves around me.
"Nothing. I'm fine Aunt Peg."
Peggy Carter is many things, and one of them is perceptive. She's always been able to know exactly what Tony and I need and provide us with exactly that regardless of difficulty or patience. Sometimes, she used to understand me better than anyone else could, even Tony.
Her perceptiveness hasn't decreased in her old age, because, without saying a word of comfort to me, she walks to the other side of the bed and sits on the much larger and comfier armchair, letting her cane rest against the leg of Tony's massive bed.
We sit in silence for who knows how long. It feels like there's a ton of bricks in my throat, since the past few hours, my form of communication has been limited to nods and shaking of the head and two-word sentences. Any more than that and I feel the metal dam I've built to protect myself slowly start to chip, and right now, that is the last thing I need; feelings are the last thing I want.
The faint knock in the room indicates another visitor, and it isn't fair to anyone, but I wonder where all these people were when Tony needed them. When he needed them to fight by his side, to support him, to have his back.
Aunt Pegs calls out in a clear voice, "Come on in."
The door opens and I suppress the urge to throw the series of icicle shards at Ross and kill him in the spot when he pokes his head through the door. The two of us have reached somewhat of an understanding in the last few years, thanks to Tony's not so great run-ins with the man and I guess Ross and I tread on a somewhat civil, professional relationship.
"There was a break-in at the prison." He starts off by saying, clearly fazed by my lack of reaction.
"As you've requested, it wasn't catalogued." He stares at me in silence, presumably looking for any kind of reaction other than the impassive stare I have going on, but my face muscles can't seem to cooperate for today, they're too numb.
Ross clears his throat and walks completely into the room, and I can actually feel the spark of electricity that crackles through my fingers when I spot the familiar circular object that he holds behind himself. I feel the dam cracking and I just need him to leave.
Aunt Peggy, my saviour, speaks up for me, "Mr. Secretary, now may not be a good time."
He disregards her concern, which was more so of a warning and directs his next words to me, "We found this in Siberia. I'm not sure what happened, but I know that you two were...close, so I thought you might want it."
Without even asking for my permission, he places the red, white and blue shield on my lap, the previously pristine object burnt and worn out but still recognizable despite everything.
I don't hear him leave the room.
I don't hear Aunt Peggy worriedly calling my name.
I don't hear a single thing over the blood rushing through my cheeks as the dam I've precariously built tumbles and shatters into a million pieces as it was hit by some wreaking ball.
The Video. My Parents. Their Murder. Bucky Barnes.
"You knew?" "Yes."
"Stop! Stop! Stop it! Steve, you're hurting him!" "Please, Steve. I'm begging you. Stop it! Let him go."
"You're going to leave. And you're never going to come back. Because the next time I see you, Steve Rogers, I'm going to kill you."
The next thing I know is that the vibranium artifact is being flung across the room by an icy blast, the sound resonating throughout the space, making a large dent on the wall due to the force of the throw.
It causes Ross and two other agents to rush into the room, their guns drawn out and their senses on alert. Ross notices the shield encased in tiny frosts and warily calls for me, "Ms. Stark."
"You take that thing the hell away from me. I don't care if you cut it in half, or burn it, or throw it back into the goddamn ice where it came from, but I better not see it ever again!" I spit out the words in spite, my face turned away from everyone so that they won't see the heavy flow of tears streaming down.
My eyes remain closed as the three agents leave the room, Ross holding the shield in his hands, and it's not until I feel Aunt Peg's hands on my shoulders that I open my eyes and prepare myself for another onslaught of tears.
Like I used to do when I was a child and scraped my knee, or when my parents died, or when Tony went missing, I collapse on Aunt Peggy and cry my heart out, the tears not stopping now that I've started.
And as I'm crying, I realize that while Aunt Pegs may have held me when I cried onto her lap every single time, it was Tony who picked me up off the ground and bandaged my hurt knee, breaking my bike apart and building it up again to make me feel better. It was Tony who spent days holed up in our childhood house with me, re-watching videos of our parents, of us as a family. It was Tony, who finally made me smile as I found him on that dessert in Afghanistan, on his knees and alive.
And then my vocabulary increases from two words to four.
"I want Tony back. I want Tony back. I want Tony back. I want Tony back."
You have to live Elizabeth; you need to live whole-heartedly with no regrets.
If this is what my mom meant by living, then I sure as hell don't want to live at all.
Vision
The walk to Tony's room is quite frightening actually. I wasn't there when they brought him in for surgery, but I know that Liz wouldn't have kept him in the hospital for too long if his condition wasn't serious.
A part of me; the part that is called Jarvis, panics during the entire ride to the elevator. It's during moments like these where I am given insight into the relationship between Tony and the AI. Moments when I'm filled with an excessive amount of loyalty, trust, and concern for the man. Moments, when I somehow know more about him than he lets on. Moments, when I know what he wants without him vocalizing it. The habit was disconcerting at first, but I suppose I'm used to it now. I actually welcome the feeling, welcome the insight I receive on Tony Stark's complicated persona.
Without knocking, I open the large metal doors, stopping short when I am greeted by only one of three people in the room, the other two unconscious; one asleep and the other in a coma.
"Ms. Carter," I greet the elder woman respectively, keeping my voice quiet as to not disturb Liz, who definitely needs all the sleep she can get.
As if noticing my gaze on her, Peggy motions to the doctor with her head, "Cried herself to oblivion. Has no one got a clue of what went down in Siberia?"
I shake my head, "Any and all access to footage or information has been corrupted or deleted, and it is beyond my means to fix it."
Agent Carter throws her hands up in frustration, "Well someone better tell me why the hell my two godchildren go to Siberia and one comes back with pneumonia and internal bleeding while the other is completely broken, throws Captain's shield across the room and cries herself to sleep harder than she did when her parents died."
I shake my head vigorously as her voice increases its volume, but by the time she understands the consequences of her actions, Liz has already shot up, her breathing heavy and laboured as her hawk-like gaze immediately strikes to her brother.
"He's not awake yet honey," Agent Carter answers for her.
She spots me in the room, but uncharacteristically doesn't smile or wave, just acknowledges my presence with a small 'hey' before resuming her gaze back to the still unconscious billionaire.
"Elizabeth," her aunt calls for her attention, "Go home. Eat something. Get some rest."
"I'm not leaving..." she starts to protest, but her aunt interrupts her,
"You're no help to your brother in your state. He needs you to be able to take care of him and you can't do that if you're not taking care of yourself."
She doesn't need much arguing after that and soon enough the two of us pull up at the Avengers Tower, climbing out of the car and making our way to the top floor.
It's only in the elevator that I actually remember the reason as to why I had come all the way down to the hospital itself. But before I can warn Liz, the elevator doors open to a majorly trashed floor, with the windows broken and the floors caked out.
"What the hell happened here?" Liz walks into the room, her voice tired, and utterly done.
I'm momentarily shocked before I realize that Fyra mustn't have realized what she did; the full extent of what her powers can do.
"You did," I answer her question simply, and she whirls around, her face finally showing some emotion other than resignation.
"Huh?"
"You did this. You practically shot down an entire region." I explain to her, watching her eyes widen with realization.
She murmurs to herself, but not quietly enough so that I can't hear what she is trying to say, "With just a single scream."
After today, the puzzle pieces start to make more sense, start to come together more fluently, "I'm not sure if you realize this , but the stone on my head glowed before releasing a great wave of energy. You summoned the powers of the Infinity Stones without being aware of it and because of whatever happened in Siberia, the Stones responded to your call of distress."
I find her staring at her hands for a long moment, as if they can explain to her the impossibility of her powers; they probably can.
"I need to learn how to use these powers Vision. People are going to get hurt if I don't." She tells me worriedly, looking out for others as always.
I nod my head in agreement as well as an apology, "I agree Ms. Stark, but I'm afraid I cannot help you with that matter. I know about the stones as much as you do."
She points to the stone on my head, "Ya, but you know how to use your stone. We can start with that. I'll figure out the rest."
I smile at her, "We'll get started right away Elizabeth."
She smiles before making her way up the marble staircase, and I turn away from her, hoping to find something I can do around the building.
"Vision?" She calls for me and I turn around to see her nervously biting her lip.
I tilt my head in question and she responds, "I'm sorry. About Wanda. I didn't think it would end up like this."
I shrug. Human emotions are still a mystery to me, and I'm still working my way around them. But knowledge is something I can never go wrong upon, "And I'm sorry for whatever went down with Captain Rogers."
And sometimes, it's easy to forget that while I may have the Soul Stone resting upon my head giving me multitudes of knowledge, I do not know everything. Because sometimes, knowledge and feelings are not even relatively the same.
I'm reminded of this when, after my words of condolences, Elizabeth Stark transforms from apologetic and tired to cold and guarded in a matter of seconds as she laughs bitterly and says,
"So am I. I'm sorry that the blast didn't hit him harder."
And as she disappears from view, I wonder for the umpteenth time;
What happened in Siberia?
Tony
Pain isn't a foreign feeling to me anymore. Not after Afghanistan. Not after having shrapnel in my chest.
But damn, this hurts.
I blink my eyes slowly, adjusting it to the blinding sunlight, and I curse myself for waking up during broad daylight instead of the evening where it's dark and the only thing I'm going to have to adjust to is the fact that this isn't the 300,000 dollar bed I got myself for my 38 and a quarter birthday.
"Hey, you."
I turn my head at the voice, unconsciously smiling when I hear it.
My sister sits on a purple armchair, looking much better since the last time I saw her. Granted, the last time I saw her was three days ago in a bombed out Siberian Bunker crying her eyes out so anything would have been much better than that.
"Why am I not home?" I ask her. It's the only words that come out of my mouth after the rollercoaster of a week we had. This is my attempt at normalcy.
"They wanted to keep you in for a few days until you woke up." She tells me, and by the obvious eye rolling, she isn't happy with the idea either.
"And what can they do that you can't?"
She throws her hands up in the air and screams, "Exactly," indicating that she's already had this argument while I was knocked out.
I sigh and burrow myself further into the pillow, trying to get used to the feelings of all my fingers and toes on my body, "So, what did I miss?"
"Oh you know; the usual. I apparently summoned the Infinity Stones' powers with a single scream and they created this massive blast to protect me and I destroyed the Tower and all of Siberia, which I ended up fixing, and now I need to learn how to use these powers and not avoid them because they actually ended up hurting people." She says in one breath, and if it weren't for the fact that I perfected Liz's dialect years ago, I would be so very lost at the moment.
"Wow," I sum all of it up with just one word, even though wow doesn't even cover it. I was too beaten up to witness whatever happened down in Siberia, but the last thing I remember before succumbing to oblivion was the multitude of colours and the powerful blast, which did not help me in my painful state, but she doesn't need to know that.
She breathes out a short laugh, "Wow doesn't even cover it,"
Seeing the lightness in her eyes after a long time brings an indescribable feeling of peace. It hurts to be the one to start the conversation to take that light away,
"Lizzie, we probably should talk about Siberia."
As expected, the light gets replaced by sadness, but the corners of her mouth lift up in a sad, knowing smile, "I know. I know. I just...I don't know what to say. Which is weird cause I always know what to say, I say more than what is necessary and right now, there are no words, to sum up what happened there."
"We didn't react well," I admit.
She shakes her head in a half-denial, "No. We didn't. But they didn't either. It was both our faults and it's over. I really don't want to talk about it."
Before I can protest. Before I can tell her that she's never been the type of person to keep things holed up inside of her, the person that lives with this type of bitterness, there's a knock on my hospital door, and a woman wearing a fitted suit walks in.
She wordlessly hands a large envelope to Lizzie, and when my sister asks her, "And you are," the woman doesn't reply, opting to continue walking out the door.
The two of us end up alone in a quiet hospital room, staring at the large yellow envelope that Liz holds in her hands, nothing on the sachet that could give us a clue as to what it inside it.
Liz shakes it once, then twice, before slowly peeling the flap of the packet and pulling out a large set of documents out of it.
Her brows furrowed together, she looks at me, "Great. This whole mess started with a set of papers looking exactly like this and now they give me another one."
My curiosity is piqued and I nod my head towards the large stack of papers she's holding, "Read it."
Instead of doing as she's told, she gets up from her seat, and nudges me slightly, and I take the hint and shift to the side, just enough so that she can toe off her shoes and jump on the large bed, placing the document in between the two of us so that both of us can read what's on it.
Minutes later, we still haven't spoken a word, which is the longest either of us has gone silent when the other is around, but in our defence, we're still reeling back from the latest shock we just received in the form of one document.
And as my sister flips to the very last page, she pulls out a wayward piece of paper; a black sheep in its true meaning due to a handwritten note on the lined piece of paper.
Elizabeth Stark,
I know this is the last thing you expect. After the week you've had, this is probably the last thing you want. And I'm sorry for sprouting this on you without consulting you first, but there are some things in life that need to be done; you running SHIELD is one of them. This organization started with your father and your aunt, two people who, in their own way represented hope and light, and peace. I don't how and I don't know why, but somewhere along the way, SHIELD went from protecting the innocent and representing goodness to hiding secrets and reeking of darkness.
I lost SHIELD because I, who entered the position of Director with the hope of making it better, lost sight of what the institute really stood for; what it was supposed to stand for. I lost SHIELD because SHIELD was never meant to be mine, it was never meant to be in the hands of someone who was willing to discard some lives for others.
I'm giving SHIELD to you. I want you to be the one who builds it up from the ashes the way your father and Aunt did, and I want you to run it the way I should have run it. You're the only person for this job, the only person who is capable of steering SHIELD into a better future; a brighter future. I know this may seem like a lot, I know it may seem like you cannot do this on your own, but we both know that you have your brother right there to help you, and I'm assuming he's reading this letter at the same time you are.
Make things right . Make things better. Make sure the world thinks of SHIELD and feels safe, proud, and hopeful. Make SHIELD into you. I made many mistakes in my life Ms. Stark, there are many things I need to repent for.
But this. This is the best decision I have ever made in my entire life.
(Let me remind you that I made the Avengers.)
Nick Fury
The next thing I know is that my little sister is hyperventilating,
"Oh My God! Oh My God! OH. MY. GOD. I can't run SHIELD. I barely have my life together. How...how am I supposed...what was Nick even thinking... I can't, I can't be the director of a company that's DEAD. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don't...I don't understand. I have Stark Med and you're not feeling well and Rhodey is still injured and I'm an absolute mess and my powers are out of control and the Avengers are all over the place and...and...and..."
"Hey, hey." I place my hands on her shoulders and calm her down. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and I curse Fury for throwing this on her during the worst possible moment.
"You built a hospital from the ground up. You took care of a bunch of dysfunctional superheroes. You survived an alien invasion and a robot attack. SHIELD is going to be a piece of cake for you." I tell her, meaning every single word.
"Wait, wait. Are you actually considering that I do this?" She looks at me in bewilderment.
"Fury's right Lizzie. If there is anyone that can do this the right way, it's you."
She places her head on my shoulders, and I feel the wetness of her tears on my shirt, "I don't know what to do."
I lean my own head against hers; looking at the door the exact time I see the familiar flash of ginger hair, then red eyes, streaked with tears that spill down on fiery freckles.
"Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?"
"Tears of joy, I hate job hunting. "
And as I tell them to my little sister, I find myself believing the words for the first time in what feels like forever,
"It's going to be all right. We're going to be all right."
