Natasha and Clint met them in the parking garage looking far more awake than Megan felt. "Good morning. Megan, Clint is taking you to the range before he heads out on an overnight mission." The redhead looped her arm into Steve's. "Steve, I'm going to escort you to your appointment and get you cleared for the S.H.I.E.L.D. gym. I think we can fit in a workout before Nick finds me. I'll text you later with an update, Megan."
"Okay." Megan locked the car and followed Clint. Once they were alone, she glanced sideways at him. "What's going on?"
"Nat's telling the truth, but since Steve's being such a handful, she figured it was better for her to go with him to the doctor. Steve's hoping to get the bandages off today, and the rest of us know that's not going to happen. Once he's worked off the worst of his temper in the gym, you can take him home without worries he'll destroy the place. She's got him wearing a boxing glove on his right hand so they can spar without much risk of him hurting that hand more. He's not faring well with fighting blind, and hasn't figured out he needs to wrestle more and keep her in proximity to take her down. When he's better, you'll have to get her to tell you about it. I was laughing so hard when she called last night I darn near—" He stopped, censoring himself just a bit. "Anyway, get her to tell you."
"I wonder if he has any idea how transparent he is?" Megan said, letting her lips curl up just a bit as she realized how effectively Clint and Natasha were handling their Captain. "Bucky would be proud of you both."
Clint snorted. "Someone has to keep his head on straight. And no, he has no clue. Besides, he's not transparent to anyone outside our small circle. At times like this, that's a good thing."
"Is your mission pretty straightforward?"
Clint shrugged as they walked. "Seems to be. Could go FUBAR at any time, but I expect to make it back for Friday."
Megan nodded, threw him a smile as he held the door for her, and led the way to his locker in the firing range. "I know you can't say more, but do be careful. I can't deal with any more medical drama for at least another week. A month's reprieve would be lovely."
"You're just hanging out with the wrong people. You want boring? Head back to your labs."
Megan rolled her eyes. "Right. Because we don't have any drama down there. On top of that, we've had two sharps injuries so far this week. Considering what might be on those sharps, those injuries can kill as easily as your arrows, just more slowly."
A half hour later, Clint showed Megan his phone. "Full patches for next week. Tantrum to follow. Going to gym now," the message read. "I think I'll take him home when they're done," Clint said. "You can swing by after lunch and maybe by then he'll be less difficult to deal with."
Megan nodded her agreement. "Okay. Do you have time?"
"I'll head to the airport straight after. This way, you can get some of your work done. Don't hesitate to call Sarge, either."
"I won't. I just wish I knew what to do to help."
"You're already doing it, so just don't stop. He's got to hit bottom a few times. You know that. It's not fun to watch, but it has to happen." Clint pointed back to the target. "See if you can draw a circle around that guy's heart."
"Why'd you lie about your black eye?" Steve asked her when she finally arrived home. He was sitting on the couch looking as defeated as she'd ever seen him. The Scrabble tiles were stacked and sorted on the dining room table right beside the reference alphabet card.
"I didn't. Natasha and I just made a scene of our own in the gym yesterday morning. The resident busy bodies came to their own conclusions."
"You don't need to protect me."
"We chose to. There's a difference." Megan set her purse on the table and sat down on the coffee table facing Steve. "How many Scrabble tiles are still missing?"
"Two."
She took his good hand in hers. "We'll find them together."
"I can't do this for another week."
"Your other choice is dying before then, and I'd really rather you didn't." She squeezed his clenched fist. "If nothing else, this is going to give you new empathy for other injured and sick patients you visit in the hospital. You still have the luxury of hoping for a full recovery. Not all of them do."
"I'm not as strong as they are."
"Yes, you are. Given the choices of adjusting or dying, most adjust. It's not easy. It's certainly not pleasant. But life after a catastrophic injury can still be rich and good. Right now, you're in the vice grip of depression and it's skewing your thinking. Been there, done that. I'm asking you to trust me that it will eventually get easier. Hanging on in the meantime is going to be one of the hardest things you'll ever do. Depression can make getting out of bed in the morning more daunting than scaling Mount Everest. But I'm telling you that you can do this if you take it one minute at a time. But for right now, I want to help you stop thinking for a little bit."
"How?"
Megan smiled to herself. "I have some ideas. Come on." Standing, she tugged him to his feet. "Go lie down on the bed."
"Megan, I'm in no mood—"
She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him. "No talking. No thinking. Just trust me. And I thought we had instituted a no shirt rule around here. Take it off before you lie down."
Megan retrieved a bath towel and rolled it lengthwise before joining Steve. He seemed to be too tired to fight her and was lying on his back on the middle of the bed, though he'd had the sense to pull the covers back. "Lift your head up," she said softly, slipping the rolled towel behind his neck. "Now hold on to the towel with both hands and keep them there."
"What are you planning?" he asked, brow furrowed as he obeyed.
"You're worried about hurting me. And given what I intend to do to you, you may very well forget how strong your grip is. You can't hurt the towel. Hush," she added, pressing her lips to his when he started to protest. "I'm not going past any of the boundaries you've established. I simply intend to remind you that you have other senses and you can still feel good even if you can't see. At any time, if you want me to stop, I will. If you decide you want more, it's yours for the asking. I have only one rule."
"What's that?"
"Stay as quiet as you can. I'm going to do everything I can within your established boundaries to make you break that silence. So lie still and think of England."
He let out a slight huff of amusement. "Seriously?"
"Sure. If you're successful, then I'll know I'm doing something wrong."
In the end, she wore him down and he wore her out. Megan winced at her sore muscles as she pulled the covers up over them both. Steve was finally asleep, and getting him there had been a sustained, exhausting effort. Pleasurable, to be sure, but exhausting. The towel belonged in a museum somewhere, or at least a shrine. Right now, it was still tucked under his neck. Knowing he wouldn't hurt her had let him lower his guard and truly relax under her hands. Telling him to keep quiet had engaged his brain just enough to distract him from his brooding. She'd found a spot low on his hip that sent his pulse racing when she kissed it. Why that spot? She had no idea. She'd also learned he did indeed have scars the serum had been unable to heal.
Whether it was due to the alien technology the Chitauri had used, a quirk in how the serum healed his body, or some other reason they might never know, Steve had a scar. It was under his left arm, high enough that it was almost in his armpit, a thin line of puckered skin, barely two inches long, attesting to a shallow cut from a Chitauri blade. The S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors didn't know about it, at least according to Steve, and she had no reason to doubt him. He'd smiled smugly when she discovered it, a new secret only they shared. It seemed to her that he took comfort in having some tangible evidence that he had indeed fought in battle. As if his psychic wounds didn't count. To many, they probably didn't. The Purple Heart wasn't awarded for mental trauma. In the eyes of the military, seeing your best friend fall to his death from a speeding train as you reached for his outstretched hand was a lesser injury than having a bullet sail through your shoulder when you tried to avenge said friend in battle. For Steve, the faint line of imperfect flesh was proof that he was a soldier, too.
Megan lay on her side, head propped on her hand, as she watched him sleep. The late afternoon sun let her study his face in one of those rare moments it was free of tension. He looked so much younger right now, more vulnerable. The burdens of command and the challenges of adjusting to a new life in a new time didn't weigh his shoulders down or line his face. He looked like he belonged in college rather than leading the Avengers into battle.
He whimpered and she touched his shoulder gently. "You're safe. All is well. Sleep and I'll keep watch," she told him softly. The course of his dream changed and a slight smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. "Enjoying the ballgame, Stevie?" she whispered, hoping she could coax his mind into revisiting happy memories. "Isn't this the best game ever?"
A full smile broke out on his face and he sighed, somehow relaxing even more than he had been moments ago. Megan swore he managed to sink further into the mattress, that if she had a ruler on hand, she could have quantified the change. She just wished the reprieve could last forever.
Megan was eating her dinner when Steve finally woke. "I found the Scrabble tiles. Sit down and I'll heat your subs from last night," she told him as she got up to fetch his sandwiches from the fridge.
Steve yawned and rubbed the back of his neck as he shuffled to the table. His hair was tousled from sleep and he was clad only in a pair of boxers. Didn't he know there were laws about looking so good after rolling out of bed? "Where were they?"
"One was in a vase on top of the bookshelf over by the patio door. The other one was in the track to the patio door, right up against the far end. It was quite scavenger hunt."
"I know. I spent three hours looking for the damn things and another two figuring out what was missing."
"At least the latter gave you practice. I've got the vowels down, but not much else."
"You're not going in order?"
"I'm going in order of importance. Vowels first, common consonants next, then the rare ones. If I'm my brain chokes partway through this, I'd rather struggle with Q instead of S. Sarge called and said the tandem bike arrived, along with our helmets. How about we venture out tonight and get you some fresh air?"
"I don't need a bike helmet."
"Yes, you do. While the law only applies to those under sixteen, you're going to be a good role model for all of the kids on the trail. Not only that, but if we get hit by a car, you're a lot less likely to be knocked out if you have a helmet protecting that thick skull of yours. That means you can call 911 and get me to the hospital before I bleed out."
She set the plate down in front of him and handed him a fork. "Keeping with our very boring wardrobe strategy, we should also both wear something that we'll use every time we head out on the bike. I'm bracing for the Paparazzi to find us any day now. Clint picked up some wraparound sunglasses for you, too. They'll hide the bandages for now and protect your eyes from bright light in another week or so. Speaking of which, are you going to be in the Independence Day parade tomorrow as originally planned?" Megan asked before taking a bite of her own dinner.
Steve shook his head. "Nick let them know I won't be there. He wants to keep me out of public view completely, but I'm insisting on being there when the Smithsonian exhibit opens next Friday. I need to call Tony about that when we get back tonight. He suggested that the other Avengers put in an appearance to emphasize that I'm not a vulnerable target no matter what shape I'm in. I'll make a statement of some sort, the politicians will make their speeches, and we'll see what happens. Nick doesn't get a vote on that. He doesn't even know about the plans to get the H.H.C.'s inside with me when the ceremony is done."
"I think that's a good idea. I'll be there in whatever role you think is best, or I can stay away if that's better."
"I want you there. Most of the ceremony is going to be outside, and no matter how much I've healed, the doctor said today she wants my eyes bandaged for that part. If I have to be led around, I want you to be the one doing it."
"Okay, so I need to figure out what to wear that will look good in photos and complement your uniform. Do you know which one you're wearing?"
Steve shook his head. "Ask Hill."
Megan reached for her phone. "I'm going to ask Natasha to go shopping with me. Given her expertise, she'll save me hours of misery. Shoe shopping alone is a trip to hell. Finding shoes and a dress that set the right tone and fit by next Friday? That's more than I can face by myself. If she can't help, I'm calling Jarvis and asking Tony to pay for it."
"You always look good. Shopping for one outfit can't be that bad."
"When you're all better, I'm going to take you with me to find me a pair of jeans that fit and cost less than a hundred bucks a pair. I'll make you a wager that we can't find anything on the racks for me to even try on in half the stores we visit and I either end up either ordering online or going over budget after four hours of shopping. In the interest of fairness, I promise I'll only take you to places that are supposed to carry my size. Deal?"
"You sound very sure of yourself. What are we wagering?"
"When I win, you agree to take enough horseback riding lessons with me that you go on a trail ride. After the trail ride, I'll never ask you to ride again if you don't like it."
"What about when I win?"
"Pick your own prize, Rogers."
He got a mischievous look. "Assuming I recover my eyesight, you pose and let me draw you."
"Okay."
"Nude."
That made her pause, but probably not for the reasons he thought. "Where is this drawing going to be hung?"
"My place, but not where others can see it."
She could live with that. "You've got yourself a deal." Megan leaned over and kissed him to seal the bargain. "You know, you're going to give me whiplash with all these mood swings, but it's good to see you happy at the moment."
"I'm sorry."
Megan felt guilty at the flash of emotion across his face, but she wasn't going to start censoring her own thoughts and comments just because he was moody. "Don't be. It's normal. I understand it and the reasons for it. But you are keeping me on my toes this week. Now hurry up and finish eating. I'm going to figure out what I want to wear and review the article I found on riding a tandem bike."
When Megan got home on Friday, there was a note on the bar indicating he was with Sarge. "Bless that man," she said to herself as she went into the bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She sent Sarge a text letting her know she was home and got a water bottle out to fill before she got to work chopping vegetables and setting up the dining room table with all of the supplies she'd gathered earlier in the week. She placed the Braille reference cards at each seat and got out the special canasta deck she'd ordered earlier in the week. Three seats had sleep masks lying on them. Beside each chair was a TV tray for food, drinks, and hand wipes. At least wood floors were easy to clean if they ended up spilling their food and drinks.
"Where is he?" Clint asked from behind a stack of pizza boxes when Megan answered the door. "I'm hungry."
"He's with Sarge but should be here soon."
"Does he suspect anything?" Natasha asked as she eyed the table on her way to the kitchen to put the extra beer in the fridge.
"I don't think so. I haven't seen him since this morning." Megan answered as she got plates out from the cupboard and set the tray of cut vegetables out on the counter. "I have no idea what mood he's in, either."
"He's still being moody?" Natasha looked disappointed, as if some threat or directive was not being given due consideration.
"It changes with the weather, but nothing was as bad as Tuesday."
"Nice of you to join us, Steve" Clint said, waving to Sarge as Steve came in the door holding a block of wood.
"Have fun!" Sarge called, starting to pull the door shut.
Megan called to him, "Don't you want a beer?"
"Not tonight. You kids enjoy yourselves," Sarge said with a head shake and a grin.
Natasha approached Steve. "It's about time you got here. Come sit down so we can get started. There are extra trays by every seat, so let me help you so you don't trip."
"What's going on?"
"Your nose broken, too?" Clint teased. "Or did you already forget what pizza smells like? Do you want beer or wine? And what kind of pizza do you want to start with?"
"There are chopped vegetables, too." Natasha added softly. "The extra tray is to your left to hold your food," she said, guiding Steve's hand to the surface and then to the Braille reference card by his left elbow. "Sarge remembered the card rack, I see. You may as well put that in front of you, though I think we all want to eat something before the first hand. You're welcome to try holding the cards if you're healed enough, but I think the rack will be easier."
Megan smiled at the look of stunned amazement on Steve's face. Apparently, he'd never thought they would continue to gather as a group and play cards.
"Beer, please. What kind of pizza is there? Yes to the vegetables. An explanation would be nice, too."
"Pepperoni or the works. We invited ourselves over for a night of cheap entertainment. Did anyone tell Ray he's in charge of keeping score?"
"Not yet," Megan answered. "Are you willing?"
"Certainly, Megan. What game are you playing?"
"Canasta. We'll call out individual scores after each hand, we just need you to keep track of it all and keep our math honest."
Clint put on his mask and took a bite of pizza. "Who is dealing first?"
"I will," Natasha offered. "And don't even think about sneaking peeks because I will know, Clint."
"I forgot to pass out extra napkins," Megan said, jumping up from her seat. "Lord knows I'm going to need them." She grabbed a stack from the counter and distributed them to each tray before sitting down and covering her eyes with her sleep mask. Steve still hadn't figured out how they'd leveled the playing field, despite Natasha's warning to Clint. "I'm ready," she said as she heard Natasha shuffle the decks.
"I'm going to deal into four piles and just pass them out after."
"Okay by me." Clint said.
Megan chuckled, "Natasha, I think your worst deal would still be better than a recent game we played called 'find the Scrabble tiles.'"
"Hey, I found all but two of them."
"Where were the last two hiding? Steve, I'm putting your cards in front of you now." Natasha said. "Clint, do you have yours?"
"Got'em."
"Thanks," Megan said, taking her cards from Natasha. "One was in a vase on top of the bookshelf, the other was in the track for the patio door."
"Face up in the discard pile is a seven of spades," Natasha told them.
"It's going to take twenty minutes for me to sort this hand," Clint griped. "Good thing we have a lot of beer in the fridge."
"Then you should have spent more time doing your homework," Natasha said as she kicked him under the table.
"Ow! What's that for, Nat? Some of us were in the field, remember? I haven't slept in over twenty hours. I barely had time to get a shower before coming over."
"Don't feel bad, Clint. Some of us are still stuck on vowels despite lots of homework." Megan told him. "That's why we each have a cheat sheet handy. Just don't coat it in pizza grease and destroy it in the process because you only get one. You have your own container of hand wipes for a reason."
"Yes, Mom. Steve, why are you so quiet? Isn't the rack Sarge made working for you?"
"I'm fine," Steve said. Megan heard the emotion in his voice that he was trying valiantly to hide. He'd finally figured out what they were doing. "If you're ready to start, I have a red three."
"Take your turn if you want, but I'm still figuring out my hand," Clint muttered. "Nat, why'd you deal him a red three right off the bat? You didn't even give me a single wild card. I think. Hell, I'm not sure what half these cards are."
Megan chuckled softly. "Steve, I think you and I are going to win this game."
"Clint." Natasha's voice was like ice though Megan was sure she was teasing. Mostly. "I'm not warning you again."
"If you have a mask on, too, how the hell… Ray. You've got Ray in your ear, don't you?"
"I don't need to see you to know when you're trying to cheat. I was trained for this, remember?"
Mention of the Red Room switched Steve from brooding to protective Captain. "Natasha, as sweet as this is, if this is stirring up bad memories you don't have to do this. I'm okay."
"I'm having fun, so stop moping and discard already. If Clint makes us lose, he knows the consequences."
"Five of spades to the discard," Steve said. "Clint?"
"Yeah, give me an hour. I'm still sorting my hand."
"Don't hurry on my account, 'cause I'm right there with you," Megan said. "What's number five again?"'
"Same as e: one and five. You said you knew your vowels, Megan," Steve sounded puzzled.
"Five is not a vowel, it's a number. And before you give me that look, which I know you're thinking about giving me, I'm going to remind you about a certain rusty spoon I have ready to use on a moment's notice."
"Noted. I'm going to eat my pizza and wait patiently for you and Clint to learn the alphabet. Natasha, did Megan talk to you yet about going shopping? I talked to Tony and he's going to make his presence felt Friday. I figure you can Clint will want to keep out of the spotlight, but we'll imply you're there. Bruce is thinking about coming, at least for a brief appearance. That puts Megan front and center."
"Which is a long, convoluted way of saying I need help getting the right outfit together on short notice. I was hoping you'd help me make sure I send the right message without spraining my ankle or showing off my new toys."
"Your concealed carry permit came through finally? That took longer than it should have." Natasha didn't hide her disapproval at how long it had taken.
"This afternoon. I need your help with that, too. I have no idea how to pick outfits and holsters that work together. Honestly, I don't even know my options."
"I need to get you a gun safe installed now that you're officially permitted and registered." Clint commented. "I'll do that tomorrow when we get back from the barn. We can buy you your own handgun tomorrow, too. "
"Megan, we'll go shopping for clothes when you get back It won't take long."
"Bring your favorite vodka. It's going to be miserable," Megan warned. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to get clothes and shoes that fit."
"You've just been shopping in the wrong stores. It's going to be fun. You'll see." Natasha let her smile be heard in her voice.
"I tried to tell her that. In fact, we have a wager—"
"Not a word, Rogers!"
Steve cleared his throat. "You ready to play yet , Clint?"
"I want to hear more about this wager, actually."
"Get used to disappointment, Clint, and take your turn." Megan said, pretending to be upset. "If we're going to actually play a full hand, much less a game, you need to pick up the pace. Make something up. No one will know." She folded her hand and took off her mask. "Who wants more food while I'm up?"
"I'll take another beer."
"Clint, I think I'll just put a six pack by your feet and call it done."
"I knew you were smart."
"Steve? More pizza?"
"Yeah, thanks."
"I'm fine," Natasha said, and Megan noticed how little trouble she was having eating and playing cards blindfolded.
She put several more slices of pizza on a plate and set it on top of the plate already on the tray while bending down to press a kiss to Steve's temple while she ran her hand over his back. She was careful not to look at his cards as she did so, tempting as it was.
"You'd better not be checking out his hand," Clint said warningly. turning his head towards the pair.
"Believe me, given my options, his cards are low of the list of things I'm checking out, Clint."
He laughed and covered his ears in mock horror. "TMI! TMI! I need brain bleach."
"Heaven help the person crazy enough to marry you, Clint. I'm not sure even a saint would be up to the task," Megan teased as she took her seat again. "Most kids grow up. You show few signs of doing so."
"Hey, maybe someone out there wants to take me on as a lifetime project. You never know."
"Stranger things have happened. My life is proof of that," Steve added. "Are you done stalling so you can take your turn?"
"I'm not stalling. But I'll discard a six of spades and keep sorting. Megan?"
"Thanks a lot. I'm just going to draw and discard a five of hearts, or what I think is a five of hearts. By the end of tonight, I may know what I have in my hand. Remind me again why we thought this was a good idea after only a week?"
"You're smart. We assumed you'd be able to memorize a few simple patterns over the period of a week," Natasha said blandly.
"Yeah, well, clearly those assumptions were wrong. Don't even get me started on my epic failure learning Morse code. Rote memorization is not my forte. My organic chemistry teacher tried to teach the course that way and it didn't go well.
Natasha's tone softened and she seemed intrigued by Megan's comment. "You don't see the larger pattern, do you?"
"What pattern? As far as I can tell, a bunch of sadists got together and drank themselves silly before coming up with the Braille alphabet."
"Amen, sister," Clint said before taking another bite of pizza.
"Steve, have you seen the pattern?" Natasha asked.
"Yeah, it jumped out at me the first day. It's no wonder you're struggling, Megan, if you're not seeing the logic behind it. You should have said something."
"Why would I say something when I had no idea there was a pattern to discern?" Megan, said, trying to reign in her frustration. "I'm a biologist, not a cryptographer."
"I'll draw it out for you on paper, later," Natasha promised "For now, pay attention to how k through t are identical to a through j except for an extra dot in position 3. For letters u through z, there is an additional dot in position three and six compared to the first ten letters, or just position six if you consider are comparing them to k through t."
Clint groaned, feeling his reference card and seeing what Natasha had pointed out. "Why didn't you tell me that on Monday, Nat?"
"I can't believe I didn't see that, either." Megan, added, feeling really stupid. "I still think they were sadists, but I'll grant that they were mostly sober. What did you discard, Natasha?"
"An ace of hearts."
"I'm taking the pile." Steve said gleefully picking up the discards. "I had three aces in my hand already, so I'm on the board. You and Clint are going down tonight."
Megan smiled though no one could see it. Hearing genuine pleasure in Steve's voice as he excelled in a game she and Clint were struggling with was exactly what she needed tonight. Natasha reached over and squeezed her hand and Megan had to bite her lip to hold back the rush of tears that small gesture triggered. It had been a hard week, but considering where they'd started, tonight was a real victory.
wwwDOTacharyaDOTgenDOTinCOLON8080/disabilities/brUNDERSCOREtutDOTphp has a great tutorial on Braille and shows the alphabet (arranged by the pattern Megan missed) near the bottom.
Qweb, Meeting Sam is only a few months away, not a year. I'm going off of the amazing Marvel Cinematic Universe timeline by Andrew Norfolk on the tiki-toki website. They were so nice about leaving me most of 2013 with little nailed down, leaving me plenty of time to bring Megan into that world before CA:TWS starts.
KnowInsight: yup. Progress and setbacks. It's the story of their lives.
Pint-sized and Mikey's Revenge: glad you are still enjoying it.
Not sure if I can manage another update this weekend, but I'm still plugging away at this beast.
