Erik watches over his cup of coffee as I lace up my combat boots and finish getting ready to head over to Charles's. I dressed very similarly to how I did when we broke into the pentagon. This time I wasn't wearing stupid bell bottoms though. Honestly I was never a big fan of turtlenecks either but hiding scars while on the run is beneficial. The leather jacket felt normal though—even if it didn't fit.
It made me miss my own. My trusty black leather motorcycle jacket was thrown over the back of a chair in the parlor of the guest apartment at Tony's. I came here with my jogging leggings that had gotten seared by the mechanics of Bogie (at least I assume), a windbreaker that actually belonged to Pepper and a sports bra that got ruined when we broke Erik out of the Pentagon. Everything else was left at Tony's.
He sold the tower almost a year ago but he still kept a property on the upper east side that his parents bought in their lifetime. I had been there for three days before I finally caved and allowed Pepper to drag me along on their run. When Strange crashed it, she loaned me her jacket. Apparently superheroes shouldn't have their meetings only ¾ of the way dressed. Not my fault I liked to run in only leggings and a sports bra.
This jacket smells like the after shave Erik uses instead of the leather care product I used. It didn't fit me because I stole it from him. He didn't seem to mind though. Although, he found a black leather jacket three days ago and as soon as I mentioned it, he warned me off. As soon as he isn't expecting it, I'll be trading it out for the Cognac colored one I wear now. I just look so much better in black. He looks good in everything. It's kind of incredibly unfair.
"I'll tell him you said hi," I offer. He grimaced and I cup his cheek, rubbing his cheekbone with my thumb. "Or I can lie? Say I haven't seen you?"
"Be back soon," he commands in lieu of answering before kissing me firmly.
"I'll leave a message with any updates. If there's any trouble, you know the drill."
"I'll be here, Beth, I do know how to stay under the radar," he says with a flat voice and an amused smirk. Right, it's funny when I'm the concerned one.
"Hey, if you get to worry about me then I get to be concerned about you too," I point out. All he does is laugh quietly and kiss me one more time. We've been practically inseparable since DC. Probably not healthy but I already know I've got attachment problems. My therapist is in a different universe and obligated to alert the authorities if I contact her though. I suppose I could get a new one but as I said, I have attachment issues.
"How are you getting there?" He asks, breaking off his laughter as it registers on him that he hadn't questioned that part of my plan yet.
"I stole a bike," I inform him with a shrug.
"A bike?"
"Yeah."
"How are you going to get there today?" He deadpans and after a second I realize he thought I meant a bicycle, not motorcycle. This time I chuckle.
"Come on, come see me off," I beckon with a smile, pulling him out the door behind me. He stops in his tracks once he spots the jet black Harley waiting for me. It's a nice bike, runs well and has a mostly full tank. The guy it belonged to was being a bad human being so I convinced him to give me his bike and then left him with blue balls the night we first got into town while Erik was speaking with Raven about disappearing.
"I shouldn't be surprised," he mutters, shaking his head. I spare him a glance over my shoulder, I bite my tongue before I can tease him further and step back into his range. This is going to be the longest we've been apart since Paris, sarcasm would not be appreciated.
"Hey, I'll be fine, this isn't the first motorcycle I've ridden and these conditions are far better anyways," I soothe. "I'll see you soon," I add looping my hands around his neck and kissing him deeply. He smiles into it and then walks me across the sidewalk to the bike.
"Be safe," he says softly as the bike roars to life under me. He holds my chin and gives me one last kiss before stepping back towards the building. I smile and then pull away, sliding my helmet on and riding off down the street.
XxX
A smile found its way onto my face as I rode through the gate onto Xavier's property. Last time I was here, the gardens were in disarray, the mansion looked abandoned, and the gate squeaked. The grounds weren't ready for awards or anything but they were in much better shape and I'm sure they'd be picturesque by the end of the month. Looks like Charles is finally using his mysteriously sourced wealth.
The door swings open as I cross the driveway to it. Hank opens it with a wide grin that I match. Behind him some kids run past, trying to be sneaky about it. My eyebrows furrow as I realize that I recognize them. They were kids that we had rescued. Raven must have brought them here. I did not see that coming. I suppose it was a school at one time before I ever arrived here. Hank is probably a great teacher.
"We were wondering what happened to you," Hank says.
"Oh, I've been busy, don't you worry."
"Come on, I'm sure there's lots to discuss," he says, holding the door open.
"This place sure looks different," I tell him, noting the lack of dust and the no longer shrouded furniture.
"Yeah, we've been doing a lot of work. Been a busy two months. Trying to get the school back up and running too. Do you know of any teachers? We're kind of in a deficit and picking up more kids by the day."
"I'll keep an ear to the ground. I'm glad you guys are doing it though. These kids need a place."
"Elysium?" Someone asks and I turn to see a kid staring at me like I hung the stars in the sky. He looked to be about nine or ten, blond hair cut short, unnatural pale skin, scars around his eyes, and on the thin side. I finish my analysis and I figure out how he knows me. The second military base we raided. The one where everything went wrong. Seriously, Erik should've let me get dead on that one.
"Hey kiddo," I greet kindly, putting a smirk on my face. He's still a teenager, can't coddle too much. "How are you doing?"
"All good thanks to you."
"You gotta name?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.
"Well, I've been leaning towards Falcon, but my friends think I should go with Hawkeye."
"What can you do?" I ask, covering up my laughter as quickly as possible.
"Vision of a hawk, true thousand yard stare," Hank states.
"And your real name?" I ask again.
"Clint."
"Barton?" I ask and he looks up at me sharply.
"I uh, I don't know ma'am."
"I used to know a guy named Clint Barton back in my world. See, I'm from a parallel universe and it is very similar to this one, and sometimes, things cross over. Kind of like you."
"Is he a good guy?"
"One of my best friends. Saved my life a few times. He went by Hawkeye and I think he'd be very proud if you did too."
"Okay, thank you. And thanks for that thing in the base," he says with a small, thoughtful smile.
"Hey Hawkeye," I call out as he walks in the opposite direction Hank and I are going in. He turns and looks at me with bright eyes. "Maybe get into archery," I offer with a smirk and his jaw drops like I just gave him a brilliant idea. Hopefully I just made Charles's life a little bit harder. Barton in my world is such a chaotic energy I'm sure a mini one isn't any better. Fatherhood had been the only thing to sort of straighten him out but even then.
"How are you?" Hank asks with a chuckle as Clint's walk turns very quickly into a run.
"I'm okay. Working on my own mission now that everything else has slowed down. It's why I came here today actually," I tell him as we stop outside a door and Hank knocks. Charles calls out for us to come in and we do. I'm a little put off by the sight of Charles in a suit though.
"Beth," Charles exclaims with a smile.
"You look like a principal, Charles," I tell him immediately. He just shakes his head, the grin ever present.
"It's good to see you," he greets.
"You too. I'm glad to see you're taking in strays."
"Glad to see you're rescuing the strays in the first place. What brings you in? Is Erik alright?" He asks gesturing for me to sit, I take one of the chairs and Hank takes the other on the side of Charles's desk against the wall.
"Keeping tabs?" I accuse but it's undercut by a playful tone and a smirk.
"Sometimes I can't help myself," he admits.
"We're alright, I just came to take a look at my suit. Hoping to get it powered on and find some answers."
"Are you trying to get back to your world?" Hank asks.
"Yeah, and one of my leads is good at disguising himself but I can't remember the address. There's a chance I'm looking for him next door from where he really is. I know my suit has it in its memory."
"Are you sure you want to go back?" Charles asks with a knowing smile.
"What do you know?" I ask dryly. Checking in and seeing what Erik is up to is one thing, peeking in on his personal life is another.
"Just what Raven tells us," he soothes.
"And what does she tell you?" I ask although my irritation is gone. Erik and I did our best to remain professional on our missions but things slipped through the cracks. If Raven is smart, and I assume she is, she picked up on them. Raven also strikes me as a bit of a gossip, even if it is just the remains of an old habit. Natasha was the same. Might be a spy thing.
"Just that you and Erik seem close," Hank answers this time.
"And Erik doesn't get close," Charles adds with a smirk.
"So do you two just sit here in your castle all day and gossip like a couple of old ladies?"
"No, Hank has his lab and I teach literature and biology," Charles answers innocently with a shrug.
"Don't play innocent. He needed someone to call him out for being a dumbass and I needed someone to keep me on task. Besides, I'm much better at the vigilante/on the run type stuff than he is. They'd have put him back under the pentagon or somewhere even harder to get into by now if it weren't for me."
"Yeah, Raven said you're a siren? How—what happened?" Hank asks.
"Held under saltwater, struggling. My lungs burned up from screaming, now I can hypnotize people to an extent. More complicated than that of course but that's about the gist. Drowning is always a weird one. Depends on if I'm trapped or held under, if it's a lot of water or a little, freshwater or salt. I've come back with gills, I've come back controlling water. One time my legs fused together and I was practically a mermaid. That last one was viciously unhelpful though."
"I'm not sure I'm going to like this answer, but how many times and ways do you think you've died and come back?" Hank asks, his eyes wide with concern.
"So many. Most of the more creative ways were done when they were trying to figure out a way to study me. Not counting the time in the labs, the most I have died in a week is probably around 13 times, most in a day is 4 I think. Recovery times are weird."
"What's the longest you've gone?" Charles asks with narrowed eyes.
"How long has it been since DC?" I ask him.
"Two and a half months."
"We are just about at my record," I state, slightly impressed. "Not counting the time before I wasn't afraid to die, my record is 3 months, roughly. I was living on my own and accidentally starved myself to death."
"How do you accidentally…" Hank trails off stating the question aloud before his brain catches up and he figures it out. His expression softens as he puts together my state upon arriving here with the information he just recieved. My last death before I was sent to this world was due to starvation. I had allowed myself to wither away, my loneliness finally catching up to me. When Zemo broke apart the avengers I was left with the few on Steve's side. When I broke it off with Steve I was left with no one.
They change the subject rather quickly after that. I'm still picturing Amsterdam and the first two months I had been on my own since meeting Steve. The first week or so was fine. Anger kept me afloat. Wanda too, she had helped a lot once she heard and tracked me down. But I pushed her away by week three, moved to a new place. I needed to be on my own. That was when the trouble really started. The cafe I was waiting tables at didn't actually mean company, especially since I was on the run, so that left me completely alone. I forgot to take care of myself, eventually starved to death, the lack of appetite catching up to me. When I woke up, I cleaned myself up, tied up all my loose ends, and went back to New York. If they caught me, they caught me. I was well past caring.