((Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading this and been looking for an update. I'm so sorry it has taken this long but I'm hoping a difficult time is beginning to pass now; a time that has hindered my creativity to a crippling extent. Once more, a big heartfelt thank you and I hope you enjoy this.))
Rocket and Bruce had dispatched themselves to New Asgard in search of Thor.
Natasha had jetted to Japan in a bid to track down Clint.
With mostly everyone made use of with one task or another, it left a certain blonde to anxiously ponder and question.
What do I do….?
"It's probably best to let me do the talking."
On the numerous, unaccompanied flights to Wakanda, Steve (in his hopelessly enamoured eagerness) simply willed the jet on to spirit him to his destination (and therefore Elsa) as swiftly as possible. This time: He dreaded it.
The day of their last official contact had left the relationship hanging in obscurity and so, in a bid to manage his climbing anxiety, Steve decided to try and disperse it by talking. Perhaps it boded well for this particular trip to have company; a distraction, if nothing else.
Tony's gelled head quirked to the address, to the blonde in the pilot's seat. Other options were, naturally, minimal; he couldn't really expect Tony to approach the Lioness (whom he had never met) and begin to explain this utterly outlandish farfetchery while Steve stood helplessly mute in the background. Moreover, Tony's history with her beloved husband remained colourful, at best. If the billionaire didn't receive a clatter for a smart comment, Steve would for cowardice… and turning up in the first place.
"We uhh… didn't exactly part on the best of terms but I don't think it could be worse than last time." An understatement, probably, of his attempt to comfort and ease her in the wake of her beloved dog's death; a screw-up of royal proportions.
"Screaming match?" Tony chimed, internally squirming with an indescribable excitement; like the one he had when heading into battle. His interrogation had been somewhat sedate (pre-empted by a hushed warning from Natasha) but how could he not want to know more about what happened? About the woman who had reduced Captain America himself to a lovesick whisp? That's not to say, of course, that he hadn't already been lovesick when everything erupted. Tony himself could testify to the doleful blonde with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pastry in the other; forlornly gazing at them as if unsure of their purpose or function, like he had never had either before.
Maybe it was for the best though. He could see the tacky headlines of CAP'S NEW GIRL or the more creative STARES AND STRIPES: STEVE ROGERS CAN'T TAKE HIS EYES OFF MYSTERY BRUNETTE reeling across the bottom of a television screen or emblazoned on a gossip website without imagining too hard. Bad enough for the sensitive and private Steve but this… Elsa… whoever she was, wouldn't have a moment's peace without some tactless "journalist" or underqualified blogger thinking nothing of asking what Captain America was like in bed. Ifthey stayed in the States, that is. Most likely, Wakanda would have been his new home with (having luck on his side) his best friend's widow and their children.
"Nah. The opposite." Steve conceded with a quirk of a sandy eyebrow; such disaster could have been avoided if he'd had Tony for council. Or not, if (like Nat) Tony's advice didn't match what dear Captain Rogers wanted to hear and the situation would have imploded anyway. "It was quiet, and that was kinda worse. But me, in my blind stupidity, decided to make a move when she was at the lowest she'd been in a long time."
"Can't've been that bad." Tony tried, remembering the hatred stirred by dejection in any of his close companions, but the innocent and placid Steve Rogers most of all. "I mean, what? Someone die?" Typical, trademark Stark blatancy: emphasizing the worst-case scenario and hitting the nail on the head that happened to be the scenario at hand.
"Yeah, her dog." Steve blandly (yet miserably) replied, without taking his eyes off the rolling jungle below; their arrival imminent. "Her lifeline since she lost Buck. He died. She called me in hysterics. I came, buried him. Then, in a dumb attempt to comfort her, I kissed her. She asked me to leave and those were the last words she ever spoke to me."
Ears cocked to the sound of Tony's tongue clicking thoughtfully, the blonde really should have known nothing sensible or serious was going to follow it. As it happens, he was right. Honestly? He would have been worried and disappointed if Tony came out with anything to the contrary.
"You sure you don't want me to do the talking?"
"You need to return home, Ingonyamakazi."
Elsa, pulled in at the side of the road en route between calls, squinted at the face in her palm. Ayo and the little vet could hardly be described as close, but she would always be eternally grateful to the Dora warrior for her role in her husband's curing.
"Something wrong, Ayo? Are my animals alright? What's-?"
"You will see soon enough, Doctor. Return to the farm and bring your nerves with you."
Terminating the call with still as much curiosity as she had opened it (none of it satisfied), Doctor Barnes sat there for a moment actively turning the possibilities over in her mind.
What the bloody Hell was that all about? Had her goats escaped again? Well… goat singular. Rosie had proven herself to be quite the Houdini and more than once, Elsa had returned home to find the dapple roaming the yard. Or worse, the road leading up to the farm. Bring your nerves with you. Had Rosie gotten hit by a transport on an excursion? Had some asshole maliciously shot her wayward doe (even in the paradise of Wakanda, they existed) just for the fun of it before her body was discovered and her tag matched to the Barnes' plot? Did Elsa need to steel herself for a dead goat?
Still, who was she to disobey a command from the Dora? A command that would have not been issued lightly? Not when the Dora had far more important things to be concerned with than the goings on of the Barnes' plot.
So… Elsa checked both sides before safely pulling back onto the road with compliance in her mind and a knot in her stomach.
It can't be…
How many times, in the short jaunt from the bottom of the driveway to her usual parking spot, did she try to assure herself of that fact? Her conviction lacking in it more and more with the closer she drew? When Elsa would look back on that mind-numbing moment, she would recall the sensation of ice-cold water dousing her; coating, soaking and penetrating every pore. Of her eyes drying in their sockets, the arid air and her eyelids refusing to budge in utter astonishment working in tandem. Of her gut-twisting and wringing beneath the khaki green of her unofficial uniform. Of her breath catching in her equally dry throat.
All those colliding factors did not register just then, so completely caught off guard by the two men standing in her driveway.
"I'm just gonna say it now: If you hit me with the jeep, you're only gonna hurt the jeep!"
At least the petrified Captain Rogers had the decency to raise his hands in cagey surrender when he called the fearful warning over the jeep's chugging engine; the same one to die away almost the second he said it.
Elsa, wary and dreadfully unsure, hesitated on leaving the sanctuary of the jeep; half convincing herself not to throw it into reverse and take to the road again like the proverbial bat from the blazing pits of Hell. The other half… very much undecided.
Shit…
Potent dubiousness hung thick in the air; radiating between two close friends, two potential lovers, as they marked each other from the mutual, protective distance. Swallowing (with nothing to do with the heat), Steve watched with involuntary plea etched into those handsome features, pouring from his eyes, his gaze immoveable from the little vet who had slowly begun to resignedly clamber from the stilled jeep.
"Els…" Steve hadn't meant for the gasped name to bleed such helplessness, an aural illustration of his desperation if ever there was one; with any luck, she hadn't heard it to think any less of him than she already did. The only thing the utterance did was realign Tony's vision from the brunette to the blonde at his side; sympathy abound.
As if trying to minimize the depth to which she might be drawn into this sudden insanity, Elsa resisted eye contact; all the while doing her utmost not to appear meek or shying away from potential challenge in her own front yard. Eyes down and skirting the jeep at a measured pace, the Lioness mentally prepared herself. At least, she could assure herself, Rosie was still in the pen.
"What are you doing here, Steve?"
She's looking at me. The thought intruded on what Steve had internally rehearsed during the quiet moments on the jet, laying the carefully structured sentiments by the wayside. She's actually talking to me. Unfortunately for the blonde, while his inward monologue played out, nothing happened outwardly so he simply fell back into the trap of deer-in-the-headlights staring under Elsa's expectant gaze.
"Hi!" Out of left field (for both Elsa and Steve), the forgotten third party brightly swung in to save the day; distraction for the brunette, recovery time for the blonde. With a tinker-savvy hand outstretched to the flinching female, Tony popped into her field of vision in a bid to stall. So you're the one who ripped out Cap's heart, huh? Thought you'd be taller… "Tony. Tony Sta-"
"I know well who you are, Mr Stark." Elsa replied diplomatically, automatically leaning into the engagement with a nod and taking the hand offered; uncrossing her arms from her chest to do so. "Elsa. Elsa Barnes. A pleasure."
It didn't help that even with Tony's diversion of introductions that poor Steve still stared; his eyes appearing lidless and his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. He clearly needed more time.
"So uhh… While Steve's recalibrating-" The attempted injection of humour did not get an ice-breaking laugh like Tony might have hoped, leaving him floundering like his taller counterpart. Shit! "Uhh… We-"
"I'll ask you, Mr Stark, while Steve's recalibrating-" Elsa smoothly intercepted, incorporating his own joke with the barest, swirling undercurrent of passive aggression; unmoved as Tony's sunny disposition flickered. "Is there something I can do for you? Or can I go back to work?"
For a moment, they unwaveringly marked each other; that challenge rearing its ugly head after all. Outside the bleating of goats, clucking of chickens and the gentle tinkle ofthe chimes marking Púca's grave, tense silence ensued. Tony, new to her, new to this place, had no business here; he surely knew that. But… So much for Steve doing the talking…
"A'right." Tony conceded, taking a breath under the vet's fading patience but managing to remain somewhat upbeat. "Wanna hear something crazy? We're gonna try and get your husband back."
Typically, the first noise Steve made was a pained groan at the utterly tactless toss of an incredibly sensitive subject. Whether Elsa ignored him or simply didn't hear him mattered not; not when the focus of her dispassionate attention was Tony.
"Do you think this is funny?" She asked evenly; the undercurrent of antagonism gradually making its way to the surface and a lot less passive.
How dare he?
How dare they?
Dropping such a bomb, just like that? Something so utterly outlandish and of such a deep, personal nature? Why? To punish her for going incommunicado after Steve so thoroughly disrespected her feelings? Who wouldn't get their back up?! Naturally, with wounds re-opened so casually and cruelly by a total stranger while Steve stood by mute. Biting back the overwhelming urge to lash out, Elsa swallowed the temptation and stayed level. For now.
"Is this some kind of joke to you? A… A sick, twisted game?"
Before the Man of Iron could go on the defensive, his Captain found his voice. Barely, mind you.
"He's tellin' the truth, Els." Steve croaked, deflecting her heating wrath from Tony as he had done for him; that steadily climbing vexation. Could she be blamed? Landing this on her out of nowhere? Something so freakish and surreal? No wonder she thought they were making fun of her. Particularly when she had been given no such opportunity (denying herself, probably wisely if this was anything to go by) to confront Steve on his insensitivity a year and a half ago.
"It took you a year and a half to come up with this, did it?!" Rounding on the blonde, Elsa knew she would only have so much wick before she went from angry to upset; that, she refused to give him the satisfaction of. "This… This… stunt!"
"I know… I know it sounds crazy." Steve tried to reason, swallowing once more as he chanced a step forward; as always, the instinct to comfort and soothe her charging to the fore, their separation factoring none. "But… we're workin' on it. We've got a pretty solid basis already, Tony's-" Flustered under her burning, whittling gaze, he flung a hand towards the master tinkerer. "got the tech down! We just need to test it! We're assembling the team right now-!"
"I'm not listening to this." Decisive and heart wrenchingly cold, Steve's clawing desperation in trying to make her see appeared for nought; not when Elsa's hands tossed in dismissal (still bearing a wedding ring, much to the blonde's sinking heart) and she neatly turned on the ball of her foot to stalking back to the jeep. "Unbelievable…"
"Els!" Having bounded headfirst into danger before, Captain Rogers saw little difference in pursuing the little vet now and any of the other hundreds of examples when his life may very well have ended. The boots carrying that Wakandan swagger (that still managed to shorten Steve's breath, despite his wariness) stomped the earth like their wearer had stomped on the poor Captain's heart. The ponytail, trademark and practical, whipped high and wild; caught in her briskness as she moved, creating her own stirring wind. In fact, it swung and waved like the defensive tail of an animal. Specifically? A Lioness. "Goddamn it, Elsa, wait!"
And just when things couldn't get any worse, Tony decided to un-bite his tongue.
"Wow, she and Barnes were well matched, huh?"
In that instant, Steve stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes in dreading despondency. Jesus, Tony….
Elsa… Elsa was not so sedate.
"Yes!" She snapped in antagonized reply to the throwaway comment. It seemed less important to get into the vehicle now, despite almost doing so with the door wrenched open and her hand still on the handle. The heavy SLAM of the jeep's aged door rang out in the nearly silent yard; the animals, both wild and domestic, silent in expectation and apprehension. Steve knew that jeep. He had driven it many times, knew the force required for the door latch to engage properly to prevent it opening while in motion. He also knew that she had far exceeded that force out of sheer temper.
"We were well matched!" The little vet berated as she retraced those provoked footsteps to the shorter of the two males with the taller one trailing miserably behind. "We absolutely were! And then YOU and whatever SHIT you lot got into came looking for back up and my husband, my good, selfless, brave husband put aside his reservations and his new life to help the likes of YOU!" The jabbing finger of accusation didn't quite land on Tony's chest, but it came bloody close.
"Good?" Tony repeated with goading incredulity, kinking an eyebrow at Steve who mentally cursed him. "Selfless? Honey, are we talkin' about the same guy? We're not talkin' about the Winter Soldier and puttin' the words "good" and "selfless" in there, right?"
"Tony!" Steve hissed, frantic. "Don't-!"
"I would have thought that if anyone understood that kind of hold, Mr Stark, it would be you." Glacial, both calm and cold, Elsa homed in on Tony as if Steve hadn't spoken at all. Aggression forgotten, or more accurately, intensified to such a degree that anything more than a low, pointed utterance would take from the intimidation. Purposefully done or not was anyone's guess. What was also anyone's guess was if the Lioness took satisfaction from the taken aback crease in her prey's forehead and the lack of smart-arse retort. No. For once, Tony Stark had nothing.
"Are you entirely sure that what kept my husband prisoner all those years, all those advances in technology, continuously obsoleting and enhancing, were not some Hydra bastardization of Stark technology?" The knife of doubt twisted and the genius, billionaire, playboy (retired), philanthropist stared though not as his companion had. "Or vice versa? Swiped from your father's own lab, or purchased lawfully by a veiled party? There were plenty of those, after all. Your father worked with Arnim Zola, did he not? You shouldn't be so sure, I'm certainly not."
Again, nothing. Delicious nothing.
"That's enough, Els-" Steve, trying to keep the peace (on her turf, literally her front yard where he had no business being, let alone telling her what to do) but finding the close cut to the bone in Tony's face almost too much not to intervene. Realizations that Tony, in all his brooding over Barnes and his parents' deaths, had never thought to put together and now, laid before him in a less than kind fashion, made his stomach turn. Holy shit…
"I'll say when it's been enough." Came the iced reply, sparing Tony in favour of Steve but only for the swiping second it took to fold his interference. "It may well be the only say or consideration I've been afforded in this farce. Well, Mr Stark? Steve says you usually have an answer for everything. No witty, whimsical quip? Are you going to disappoint me? Or should I keep going?"
At a shameful and pained loss, what else could he say? In the place of the usual witty, whimsical quip she had heard so much about, Tony managed to exasperatedly murmur:
"He killed innocent people."
"And you're immune from that particular accusation, are you? Stark Industries wasn't printed across those bombs and missiles in a rather distinctive font?" Going for the jugular in a (admittedly) retired venture, the blood would always be there; if she hadn't learned that from the tortured soul of the Winter Soldier, she had learned nothing. And speaking of Bucky… "At least my husband had something other than money planted in his skull-"
And that… was the final straw.
"I shut down my operation when I saw what it was doing!" Tony shot with savage immediacy, reflexive and forever wounded by something he could not change; a nerve she had touched but only he knew how sore. Had clarity prevailed, he might have seen what she goaded him towards; what and who else would qualify as familiar.
"You did NOTHING until you felt the burning end of the poker for yourself, Mr Stark!" Elsa barked back, hackles raised.
"I did what I could!" Tony protested, though he clearly remembered feeling during the numerous of charity drives, benefit galas and cheque presentations to benefit those he'd wronged that it would never be enough; futile, even. After all, money couldn't raise the dead. If it could, he would have found a way by now. He could give life and body to Vision but necromancer, he was not. That said, If it could be done, it was by Tony Stark. "You think I don't feel guilty about that?! You think those news reports don't plague my Goddamn nightmares?! I can't bring those people back, I've put myself on the verge of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion trying to find a way but y'know what I've learned?! I CAN'T!"
Elsa studied him for a moment; wondering if he realized (in his passionate outpouring) how close to her he'd actually gotten. She watched him panting; the flare in his nostrils and the narrowing of his eyes bled sincerity: He wouldn't have gotten so worked up if it wasn't true. If he wasn't eaten alive by guilt at the very mention of a bomb. With a little more than a casual click of her tongue, the little vet retreated; stalking past a dumbfounded Steve and returned to the jeep.
"Regret and remorse are funny things." She uttered, loud enough, as she went. "And funny how we can decided who is worthy of who is deserving of forgiveness and who is not; reasons and motives, be damned." Reaching the jeep, Elsa hooked the handle and sat in once more but not before casting an almost sympathetic look to Tony several feet away as she leaned against the steering wheel.
"For the record, Mr Stark… what it's worth, I don't know, but if regret and remorse could bring anyone back… You would have your parents back a thousand times over. That much, is fact."
"So… That went well." What else could he say? With that crippling silence as the American pair limped away (out of the baking sun) in defeat cementing it further? He had to say something.
"It went about as expected." Steve agreed with a twinge of despondency, ambling for the co-pilot seat. "I'm surprised she agreed to see me at all."
"I mean… She didn't agree to anything. We kinda blindsided her." Tony opted for fairness as he took to the pilot's seat and began keying for take-off; the complex method barely factoring into his attention as he cast a sideways look at his blonde companion. "She always like that?"
"No." Steve sighed, thinking back on the bubbly personality, the strong will, the gentility and compulsion to care for others (animals and humans alike) of the little vet that had dominated his mind so obsessively. To compare it to the shadows of pain and distress, wounds that may have healed in his absence only to be ripped open again by turning up after so long… He kicked himself. "No but uhh… I think I rubbed her up the wrong way."
"I could make a joke. But under the circumstances, I don't think it's appropriate."
"My God, you've matured."
"I know, I hate it. I haven't had my ass handed to me like that since I spent a night with that UFC fighter. But uhh… Yeah, she's makin' sense. Tell you what, Rogers-" With the ground clear and a course set once more for New York, the most demanding part was over and autopilot would take care of the rest. "We do this, we do what we're try'na do and it works? Barnes and I'll go for beers. Fair? Maybe upgrade whatever he has goin' on technology wise."
"I don't think there's much upgrading to be done with a Vibranium arm, Tony-" Steve answered with a bite of good-natured reasoning and the pull of a half-smile up into his sculpted cheek. "But he'll appreciate it. I know he will."
For a moment, conversation trailed off and brooding silence took its place; both affected in different ways by the visit that was never going to go smoothly. The jet, state of the art and conceptually flawless, still produced sound of some description (even Tony Stark could not fix that) and that sound ebbed at Steve's subconscious; lulling him into deeper thoughtfulness.
"We all fought on the same side in the end. He told me he was done, he didn't wanna pick up a weapon anymore but still, he left the wife he'd had for barely a month and stood beside me." He absentmindedly parted with, to the attentive cock of Tony's head. "And I just realized how much of an asshole I was with my own sentence. Goddamn it."
"In her defence, she must've been really hot for Barnes if she turned down Captain America." The younger of the two pointed out fairly with a commiserating gesture and light, jibing sympathy in his tone; much to Steve's eye-rolling amusement. The old dynamic: Back again. "But hey, seriously, it's not everyone would just… shut themselves down… after they've lost a partner. Like… fully willing to just go on alone for the rest of their lives rather than compensate what they felt for that person by movin' on. I mean… I know Pep would do it but-"
Tony's trademark of aside humour had its desired effect and landed as it meant to: Bringing Steve fully around from his self-assaulting reverie and putting a smile back in those charming features.
"Y'know… they were known locally as the White Wolf and the Lioness-"
"Lioness, huh? Can't imagine why."
"The kids used to come by after school, just to watch Bucky do farm work with one arm."
"Not much else goin' on, huh?"
"No, but… It was all he wanted." Steve replied genially, the smile fading to a soft, thoughtful grimace. "Peace and quiet. With the Prettiest Girl in Brooklyn to wake him up in the morning."
If that didn't deliver fresh resolve in this insane undertaking, nothing would.