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Chapter 26: In Which the Duck Meets the People

Once upon a time, in a school district without bussing and a dismal graduation rate, Bea got sent to the principal's office. In all honesty, she was sent more than once, but there was one trip, her first trip, that stood out in her memory. She'd just joined a new foster family, and the big new school was intimidating to a petite eight-year-old. Another girl said she had ugly clothes, and Bea retaliated by throwing her juice box in the girl's face. And that was how she got a private interview with the head principal on her first day of class.

"I'm very disappointed," the principal had said, adjusting his glasses as he peered at her file. Less than twenty four hours since she stepped through the door and she already had a file – wouldn't her foster folks be proud? "Not surprised, lots of kids in your situation have trouble adjusting to new schools, but still disappointed."

This wasn't her first school, and this wasn't the first principal's office she'd landed in. It certainly wasn't her first lecture. But she'd never had a grown-up be so candid with her. Her wandering thoughts honed in on the man, sharply curious. And maybe a little offended. He expected her to fail?

"If you could stay out of trouble, you'd have the makings of an honor student," he continued. "I make it a point not to expect much from students who come to see me on the first day of class, but you deserve to know that you can do better. Two hours detention this Saturday. I'll write a note for your foster parents."

Bea decided she wanted to surprise him. She'd surprise the toupee right off his head. She'd be the best kid to ever attend this little hick school, and he'd never look at the reprobates across his desk the same way ever again.

A couple graduations, superpowers and an trip across space later, she was experiencing the same mingled nerves and determination as she sat across the coffee table from Director Nick Fury. Except this time she hadn't thrown her juice box at anyone. This time she got caught making out in the bleachers with the bad boy. Director Fury was much scarier than any principal could even dream of being.

"You want to explain to me why I have to come here in person to deal with you when I've got a planet-wide defense plan to organize?" he asked – only, it was Fury, and he knew everything, so he didn't really ask a question so much as he used the hollow form of one to carry his sass.

By the wall, Steve was folding and refolding his arms, glancing hopefully at the elevator, waiting for back-up to arrive. The man was a commander, sure, but he took the chain of command very seriously, and he had issues standing up to authority. No one wore the word 'authority' like Director Fury. Thor had surfaced at the sound of Fury's voice, and now stood behind where Bea sat on the couch, arms crossed, frown set. His experience with S.H.I.E.L.D. was limited, but the organization hadn't made a stellar impression, all things considered. Not awful, but not great. He certainly didn't trust them.

And then there was Loki, the green elephant in the room, lurking in the shadows by the kitchen. He just leaned there, watching, keen eyes drinking in details for later reference. Things would be a lot less awkward if Thor would just lock his kid brother in his room. But no…

"The Chitauri are less than two weeks out," Fury said. "There is just too much to do for you to be making problems, Miss Doe."

"So, I kissed a guy," she exclaimed, "what does that have to do with planetary security?"

"There's the matter of what guy you kissed, for one thing," Fury pointed out, "but that's not what I'm here to discuss."

Bea blinked. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well… what, then?"

"When you refused to face the fall out of your bad decision like an adult, you made a heck of a scene. I guess you don't watch the news. People saw you 'blinking', people with cameras. Now I'm trying to deal with the rumors and the press when I'm not in video conferences with prime ministers and presidents. I don't have time for damage control."

"So, what? This is a visit to remind me not to dangle off the side of any more buildings?"

"This visit is to issue an order, Miss Doe. The order is this: you will get a handle on these rumors, and you will do it now. Tomorrow, you're going to go public."

Everyone in the room stiffened. Secret identities were practically impossible to maintain once superpowers were revealed. Fury was asking a lot. Coming out super meant she could never pretend to be regular ever again. Everyone would know that Tony Stark's former head of design was a time bender.

Aware of the magnitude of his command, Fury raised his hands as he continued. "You can tell them as much or as little as you like, but you will explain that you are an unusual individual with unusual abilities and that you are now working with the Avengers…" Bea squawked, "…on a provisionary basis."

Yes. Now was a good time to panic. She would make a bad superhero, a terrible one, in fact, and she didn't share Tony's sadistic/masochistic obsession with the press.

"But…"

The Director didn't give her the chance to argue. "Do I need to explain what an 'order' means, Miss Doe?"

The chair swallowed her as she slumped down into the thick upholstery. "No, sir." Could she sound any more like a three-year-old? Her backbone had forsaken her. Traitorous skeletal frame.

"Good." Mission accomplished, the one-eyed god of vengeance rose and sashayed toward the elevator, leather duster swaying. The doors pinged open and one very flustered Tony Stark burst through, hair ruffled, eyes bloodshot, clearly fresh from the lab. JARVIS must have alerted him to the arrival of the Sassy Pirate. It had taken him long enough…

Fury gave him the barest nod and breezed past him through the open door. "Mr. Stark."

Tony could only flap his mouth silently, trying to kick his brain into gear as the predator left the den. The door closed, separating Tony from the object of his bemusement, and the repeated ping broke the spell.

"That. The crap. Just happened?" he asked, spinning on the life-size diorama of awkward superheroes frozen in his common room. He fixed his attention on Bea. Because it was always Bea's fault, of course. "What did Fury want?"

"My soul and your first born child," she said. "Nothing too dramatic." She rose from her seat, brushing off her hands like she'd just finished an especially dusty chore. "I'll be in my room in anyone needs me."

Tony frowned, his temper sharpening his voice and clipping his words short. "Bea, I want to know…"

"Don't care." She continued down the hall. "There were three other people here for the whole thing. Ask them."

"Bea!"

"Leave me alone, Tony."

.O.O.O.

Natasha took over from Steve that evening. The entire day, the Avengers' favorite time bender had stayed holed up in her room, not even surfacing for dinner. So Bea only knew the Russian had supplanted Captain America because the assassin came knocking at her door, armed with a duffle back and a stern glare.

"Time to practice," Agent Romanoff said.

And that was that.

Bea valued her life. One did not simply tell the Black Widow 'no thanks' and escape without a minor concussion, severe blood loss, or broken extremities. She donned the sweats provided and trotted along in the red head's wake as they wound their way into the windowless bowels of the tower – where the Russian could kill her quietly and without witnesses.

For the next hour, Bea spent her time flying through the air, kissing the mats, and building an alarming level of sympathy for Loki after his manhandling by the Hulk. Bea had never seen the Hulk. She was starting to think that there was none. The Hulk was just Agent Romanoff on a bad hair day. It was a valid theory – except for the fact that Agent Romanoff didn't have bad hair days. Ever. Her hair was invincible. At least it was comforting to know that, no matter how much she felt like she was dying, she couldn't be, because if Natasha wanted to kill her Bea wouldn't know it until she was staring vacantly into the eyes of St. Peter, blinking mindlessly up at the pearly gates.

Still sprawled where she'd landed after her latest flight, Bea groaned. "Is this supposed to get better, you know, the more times you do it? Like exercising?"

"Not particularly," Natasha said. "Why? Is it?"

"No, no. Just making sure I wasn't missing anything obvious."

"That is your specialty."

"Ouch."

"Truth hurts."

Bea shoved herself onto her elbows. "Not to miss the obvious, but is there something in particular you're referencing? I mean, not to be thick, but I feel like I've been missing a lot lately. Like sanity. I miss sanity. We've never been close, but we were pen pals for a while, and I kinda miss the old fart."

The Black Widow took a long sip from her water bottle, and it was the coolest water guzzling Bea had seen in her entire life. There was nothing concretely different about the act, but it was innately more awesome than any drink of water Bea had taken in her whole life in some intangibly incredible way. It just wasn't fair.

"Tony."

Her train of thought had sped so far past the conversation she had to shut down all traffic and haul the rusty locomotive back into the station before she could grasp the context of the name. Even then, she was confused. "Yeah. Tony's obvious. And easy. Obviously easy, even. What does that have to do with me?"

"You know he likes to put on a show when his feelings are hurt," Romanoff said, wiping the condensation from her bottle and flicking the glittering beads from her hand. "He doesn't like being at odds with you. All he needs is an excuse, an olive branch, and he'll be able to move on."

Bea sat up, drawing her knew to her chest. "Yeah. Not sure I'm ready to. Not sure why I'm the one who has to be the grown-up. Being the grown-up sucks."

"You have to be the grown-up because you've recognized that you can be," the agent said. When Bea didn't immediately respond, she softened, the glint in her eyes cooling to a muted simmer. "Relationships don't work because they're fair; they work because someone is willing to come up short. If you aren't willing to take the fall for your partner, you shouldn't have one."

"Tony and I are not partners."

"Oh, I know more than one agent who wouldn't hesitate to label the two of you partners in crime," Natasha purred, the simmer heating to a foxy gleam. A coy smile curled itself around her lips. "You're good for each other, and I think we all know it's time someone took the bullet and moved us past the Loki Incident."

"The Loki Incident? You named it?"

Romanoff shrugged. "Tony wanted to call it 'Reason One Why Ducky Should Wear a Chastity Belt'."

Cue flinch. "Oh, ugh… just… ew, oh… How can that man make an awkward moment into a lesson in perversion so effortlessly?"

"If I understood that man, I wouldn't push you so hard to kiss and make up." It took all of half a millisecond for her to see where that turn of phrase led. "Hm."

"Yeah." Bea pushed herself to her feet and started toward the door. "Might as well get this over with. I'm playing the bad boyfriend and dealing with him through texts."

A devious smirk fluttered over Agent Romanoff's face. "Where are you going?"

Dread froze Bea's spine like ice, and she heard it creak as she looked back at Natasha.

Her voice was light, and her smile was glowing. But there was evil in her eyes, a wicked mischief Loki would be proud to wear. "We're not done with practice yet."

"Crap."

.O.O.O.

A new message has arrived in your inbox from Ducky.

Ducky: Hi.

Bossy: Your face.

Ducky: I'm sorry, I love you, and you're the coolest boss ever. Can I have my job back?

Bossy: I don't hire criminal kissers.

Ducky: Do you mean people who kiss criminally, people who kiss criminals, or people who kiss so bad it's criminal?

Bossy: All of the above. I only take the best.

Ducky: What about time travelling ducks?

Bossy: Only if they don't make duck lips at visiting evil demigods.

Ducky: What about time travelling ducks who can take passengers?

Bossy: Meh.

Ducky: I'm offering you a lift.

Bossy: Are you asking me out?

Ducky: Of course, sir. You're a beautiful, beautiful man.

Bossy: Flattery will get you everywhere.

Ducky: You have fabulous hair.

Bossy: I'm not gay, Ducky.

Ducky: Your suits are hot.

Bossy: Better. What kind of date are we talking?

Ducky: Wanna hide in my closet and help me prank the babysitter?

Bossy: Who's on first?

Ducky: Thor. And, just to be clear, time cheating may be involved. And a toaster.

Bossy: Give me fifteen minutes.

Ducky: You have ten. Run, Forest, run!

.O.O.O.

Thor did not understand. He pushed the button down as he always did, but rather than returning his Pop Tarts, the strange device insisted on giving him some leafy vegetable. If he had inserted a vegetable, then he might have understood. But something horrible had happened to his snack, and he did not understand why. Until a few minutes ago, he wasn't even aware the machine was capable of such a function.

Down the hall, Bea and Tony were binging on an unspeakable number of cheap breakfast pastries. The migraine, for once, was really worth it.

.O.O.O.

When Tony Stark held a press conference, the world took note. And when the world took note, the reporters turned up in swarms. Doubtless they were surprised to find Stark's young, artsy, and socially disappoint Head of Design standing beside him at the podium. She'd never been the juicy bite of gossip expected from high ranking employees at Stark Industries, but Bea reflected, there was always time to change.

Her time was now.

Tony tapped the mic, signaling the start of the official media frenzy (as if the reporters hadn't been recording every blessed second since they stepped into the building), and began his opening remarks. "Thank you all for coming today. Now, I'm sure you're all here to learn about some new tech from Stark Industries," he physically brushed the idea aside. "Or some personal decision from our CEO." Another brush. "But the fact of the matter is, I'm not here to talk about me." He left his audience a moment to get past that before he plowed on. "But you won't be disappointed. You see…" he stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, playing the charming little genius about to show off his newest toy. "I'm here to tell you about the newest addition to the Avengers."

And cue mass chaos. This was his specialty – stirring up the press – and he enjoyed it entirely too much. For about half a minute, Bea had never hated anyone (apart from Loki) as much as she hated Tony Stark. He just stood there smiling, bathing in the waves of attention and the hilarious way Bea was glaring at him. She was focusing hard enough on his stupid grin to set his beard on fire.

A few of the reporters were cluing in now, putting the pieces together. New Avenger plus random Stark Industries employ equaled – Bingo! One by one, the cameras turned on her, ignoring Stark in favor of their new target. Bowing to the turning tide of public opinion, Tony clapped Bea on the back and beamed at the ocean of camera lenses and stabbing microphones. "Everyone, this is Bea. Bea, this is everyone. Say hello."

Awkwardly, Bea leaned up to the microphone, hands stiff at her sides. Her voice had never felt so rusty. "…Hello."

The answering roar from the reporters was deafening. A hundred questions flew at her from a hundred mouths, and she couldn't prevent her instinctual step back. Tony's arm came around behind her, cutting off her retreat and giving her the resolve she didn't have. "We'll take questions one at a time," Tony shouted. He scanned the crowd, making a show of ogling the oglers, and pointed at a middle aged woman in a lavender dress suit. "You. Whatcha got?"

"All of the Avengers that the public is aware of have special abilities or skills of some kind that makes them capable of doing more in defense of the public safety than average soldiers," she said. "What qualifies you to join them?"

The pressure of Tony's hand on her back increased. It was her turn to talk. She swallowed. Took a breath. She had no reason to be nervous. She was even wearing her favorite shoes – the knee-high Converse she wore when she first met Tony.

"First off," she said, her weak voice wavering, "I'm not an official Avenger." The tempest began to pick up again, and she hurried to continue. "I'm a probationary member. They could use me right now, and I could use their support. We're helping each other. For now. After that," she shrugged, "we'll see. As for what makes me qualified – I've worked with Tony Stark for about half a decade now. Someone needed to control him when he was in the field. It was really just a choice between me and Pepper." She got a few chuckles out of the crowd. These folks were more than familiar with Tony at his worst. More shutters clicked, and a few more flashes illuminated the room. "Next question?"

A forest of waving arms sprang up, and Bea hunted through the crowd, settling on a young man with a buzz cut. He didn't have the polished reporter look. Maybe he was from a small blog or something. "You."

"So, Thor has his hammer, Hawkeye has his arrows, the Black Widow has … everything," the guy said in a teasing voice. "What do you have? Brains or brawn? What's your specialty?"

Tony leaned in, cutting her off. "She's pretty brainy, but we'd rather keep her specialty under wraps for now. She's our ace up the sleeve, and we'd like to keep it that way. Next question?"

The questions kept coming for the next thirty minutes. Good questions, bad questions, dumb questions, questions Tony deflected or rejected. Thirty. Long. Minutes. Bea's heart wouldn't stop fluttering. She kept wondering what would happen if she let the wrong thing slip, if all those eager tongues got hold of her secret, knew that she could bend time. Would they be as civilized as they believed themselves to be, or would they be like the people of Asgard – terrified of a power beyond their own. How many knew Thor was an alien? She was one, too, after all.

Finally, Tony declared an end to the press conference, and then he turned, Bea held to his side, and strolled out casually as the sharks behind them clamored for more.

Once they were safely in the elevator, he looked at her and said, "I think you need a drink, Ducky."

A/N: Shame, shame, shame. Sorry. It was life. It happens sometimes. I'm back now, and updates should be more regular. I'm expecting to wrap up the fic in the next five or so chapters, actually, and I'm still not 100% sure how it will end, so REVIEWS MATTER. Just sayin'. ;P

WE'VE BROKEN THE 200 REVIEW MARK! Thanks to all my loverly reviewers! You all rock my socks and give me lots of great ideas!