Ellie's warm in the bed, swaddled in blankets and resting heavily. The surgery took a lot out of her. She turns her head on the pillow, enjoying the repose.
As she turns, bright light hits her eyelids. She groans. She turns again but the light still annoys her. She grunts in disapproval.
"I got it, I got it," says a familiar voice. "What, you don't like being blinded?"
She hears the sound of blinds closing and the light dims. She frowns at the voice. She recognizes it.
"…Clint?" Her voice is gravelly.
She cracks open her eyes and sees him sitting back down next to her hospital bed.
"In the flesh," he says.
It's just him, sitting in the metal chair in his snug t-shirt, close cropped blonde hair and dorky glasses.
She frowns at him, blinking tiredly. Something is wrong here…
He starts shaking his head. "Easy now, you had a long night. You can go back to sleep, if you want."
Her body is weak, but she doesn't want to go back to sleep. With some effort, she props herself up on her elbows.
"Or," he says ruefully, "you can just do your Ellie thing."
Something is wrong, but she can't put her finger on it. "What happened?"
He glances sidelong at her, sipping his coffee. "Surgery went off without a hitch. So that's good."
"Surgery?" Wait, what was the surgery for again?
"Should I call you blister brain, now?" he asks.
Blister brain?
She sees a flash and remembers searing pain.
"What…!?" She frantically reaches for her forehead. Her fingers touch hard, charred skin. A shock of fear runs through her.
"Ellie, easy, I'm just fucking with you—"
"Ah, ah, ah…" comes a voice from nowhere.
Clint's eyes widen and he sucks in half a breath, then disappears into thin air.
"Clint?!"
Suddenly she's alone in the hospital wing. It's too quiet, like she's the only one in the city. The blankets no longer feel warm at all, and she shivers.
Then it feels like she's not alone. She can feel something, out in the hallway.
"Is this where you go when you're afraid?" it asks. The voice turns her stomach.
The light in the hallway changes. It goes from daylight white to yellow, then to a sulfuric haze that ripples with heat.
Then she notices, across the room, sitting in a hospital chair is Joel.
She cries his name.
"I'm here, girl," he says. His elbows rest on his knees and he's looking at the floor. He glances up briefly. "I'm here."
"Joel, help me!"
"If only I could, angel."
"You don't need help anymore, Ellie," says the voice.
"No…" she whines.
"You have me… And the more time you spend with me, the more you'll realize we're on the same side."
He finally steps into view in the doorway. He looks the same, in his high-collared trench and his violent red skin. He smiles, and his burning eyes gape like doorways into an eternity of fiery torment.
Ellie tries to scream, but she can't. It's trapped deep in her chest. She can't move. She pushes, and pushes, until finally it finds her way out of her lips.
She cries out briefly and rolls over in the bed. She's weak with sleep.
She's alone in a dim room on the Chimera. She recognizes it as hers. There's a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She rolls onto her back and rests on the pillow. What a terrible dream.
There's a commotion outside her room and her door opens for Kamala. She comes into view wearing a look of concern. "Ellie?!"
She rushes to the bed and kneels beside it. "Are you alright? You're sweating. Do you feel okay?"
"God…" says Ellie. She presses fingers into her eyes. She doesn't feel hurt, just exhausted. "I'm okay. I just feel half dead."
Kamala's brow wrinkles up. "That's okay? When we brought you back, you didn't have any serious injuries, but we couldn't wake you up."
"What happened?" Ellie asks her.
Kamala blinks. "Well, we kinda wanted to ask you that, but… we lost contact with you while you were sabotaging the power grid. Natasha rushed down there, but she just found you unconscious. She carried you back up and we were able to get out in time, while AIM was preoccupied with the damage we caused."
"Did we win?"
"Did we win?" Kamala repeats. "Um… we messed up a lot of their equipment and shut down the operation, but that's all we could do."
The image of the heavily armored trucks driving through the window returns to Ellie's mind.
"Why didn't you tell me what that was about?" Ellie asks with a flare of anger, leaning up off her pillow. "Why didn't you tell me what AIM was trying to do?"
Kamala is taken aback. "Ellie, we didn't know. I mean it, we often don't. We're constantly trying to stay a step ahead."
"Kamala, they could be attacking my home!"
"Ellie, wait," says Kamala, making a halting gesture, "there's a lot we don't know, but Bruce doesn't think that's where they were going. It could have been anywhere-"
"No? Well, what about next time?" accuses Ellie. It strikes her for the dozenth time that Kamala is practically a kid. Ellie grimaces. "Kamala, this isn't a game! My people could be in danger! I need to go home!"
Kamala retracts, clearly hurt.
'Oh, now you've done it. Isn't she your only friend here?'
A feeling like ice runs down Ellie's spine. She reads Kamala's face to see if she heard it, too.
'Don't worry, Ellie. It's just you and me, now.'
Ellie's guts stiffen and her lip trembles. No…
She suddenly becomes aware of another figure in the room.
Mephisto leans against the opposite wall, watching them. His arms are crossed, and he wears a nasty smile of victory.
Ellie gasps and points at him over Kamala's shoulder. She spins around… and doesn't react. She looks back at Ellie in concern. "Ellie? What's wrong?"
Mephisto chortles. 'You've taken my mark,' he says. 'Now, as you once put it, it's just the two of us. Together. Forever.'
No… Ellie brings a hand to her forehead, pressing against it as if she can push it all away. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…
Mephisto laughs.
Kamala's concern deepens. "Ellie, are you okay? You don't look so good."
His mark. A thought occurs to Ellie and she searches around the bed frantically. She leans over and opens the draw next to the bed. There's a small hand mirror. She grabs it and holds it in front of her. Then the blood drains from her face.
In the middle of her forehead, where Mephisto touched her, there's some kind of sinister looking rune, carved into her flesh in slowly undulating, hateful orange glowing lines. She touches it gingerly with two fingers, but it doesn't hurt.
"Ellie…" says Kamala gently. She rests her arm on Ellie's forearm. "It's okay. It's just a few bruises. Not uncommon on an operation like that."
Ellie stares at her, dumbfounded.
'Oh, don't worry,' Mephisto continues. 'They can't see. I made sure of that. For your safety, of course.'
What the fuck does that mean?
A shudder goes through her and she feels tears on her cheeks. She looks at Kamala entreatingly. How could they let this happen to her? Why had no one warned her?
Kamala is starting to look afraid. "Ellie, hang on. We've been waiting for you to wake up. Let me get Bruce, he was one of the ones that looked at you." With that, she gets up and hurries out of the room, leaving Ellie alone with Mephisto.
He tsks sharply with his tongue. 'Ellie, here's how it is. You've taken my mark. It's done. It doesn't stick to just anyone, you should know. Only those who are already mine.'
Anger pulses in Ellie. "Shut up," she mumbles.
He steps away from the wall, expanding his hands. 'You're so beautiful to me, Ellie! I see the potential in you that no one else can! The hate, the bloodshed. You're made for this world, Ellie! The one you came from, and the one you're in now! You can help like no Avenger ever could.'
"Shut up," she says, louder.
'Ellie,' he says more sternly. 'Don't resist. You are one of mine, now. They can't see the mark I left on you, but that's for your protection. Ellie, if they knew… You must understand, I'm their enemy, Ellie. If they knew you were one of mine, well…'
Ellie recalls Kamala brandishing her fists and saying 'Let's take it to 'em!' It evokes a flash of pain.
'Oh, Ellie. You were never one of them, but you knew that. Remember when Kamala spoke of your past, and you were so relieved to find out she didn't know the whole truth? Of course you were never to be one of them. How did Nora put it?'
Nora appears suddenly a few feet away, complete with her teal shirt with the snake on it. She looks down at Ellie in contempt. '"I'm not an Avenger. I'm just helping them out for now." The fuck? Like it's some kind of gig or something?'
Ellie turns away, clutching her hair. "Get out of my head!" she shouts.
Mephisto laughs, placing his hands on his hips. 'Oh, I'd recommend against talking to me out loud, Ellie. It will give up the game.
'Here's what you need to understand. If the Avengers ever find out I marked you, they will know you're a lost cause. They won't be willing to let me have you. You'll leave them with no choice. Especially Thor.'
Ellie blinks, recalling the god's radiant power. Thor…?
'Yes, Ellie, you're getting it, now. Thor is of the outer realms. He has known me since time immemorial. We are ancient enemies. He's honor-bound, by divine oath under his father, to destroy me everywhere he finds me. And if he finds me in you…'
Ellie recalls Thor at that AIM rail site, calling down the very lightning on his enemies.
'You'll leave him no choice, Ellie. You'll leave him no choice…' Mephisto's form fades away with his words.
The door to her room opens again and Ellie starts.
Kamala enters again, followed by Bruce.
"Hey, Ellie," says Bruce.
Kamala returns to her spot kneeling by Ellie's side. Bruce leans one hand against the upper bunk.
"I'm glad you're awake," says Bruce, "but Kamala says you seemed distressed. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"
"Um…" says Ellie, suppressing shakes from her temples to her fingertips. "I feel okay…"
"Are you sure? She said you were worrying over your head. We were concerned you had a concussion but your scans seemed fine. Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"
"Um…" She is nauseous, but it's not a concussion. "I don't know…"
Bruce's brow is wrinkled in unhidden concern. Gently, he removes his hand from the upper bunk and squats down, so they're eye level. "Can I ask what happened, Ellie? Nat's gonna ask, too, but she told me she couldn't tell what took you down. You seemed to make clean work of Cutthroat."
"Cutthroat?"
"That guy. Green cloak?"
"Oh, that bastard."
Bruce chuckles. "Yeah. He's bad news. Old associate of Taskmaster's. Seems AIM is expanding their mercenary roster. He's booked now. He was wanted for umpteen different things, so we sent him up to New York for trial. Did he do something to you?"
'A convenient lie…' comes Mephisto's voice.
Ellie seizes on it. "He shot some kind of… horrible, sound bullet at me. God, it hurt. Maybe it messed with my head."
Bruce nods. "Yeah… that's one of his old tricks. And who knows if AIM juiced it up somehow. That, and how it interacts with your powers. We'll make sure you get some food, water, and rest, and we'll keep up the scans."
"Are you sure we shouldn't do more now?" Kamala asks him eagerly.
"I think that's good for now. Do you think you could eat?" Bruce asks Ellie.
She's still holding a lot of uncomfortable feelings, but she is hungry. She nods.
"Tuna sandwich and chips?" he asks her. It's become known as one of her favorites.
She nods eagerly.
Bruce smiles. "I'll have it sent right in."
The door opens again and Ellie notices it's Nat. She swallows, nervous for some reason.
Nat walks in and nods to the other two, then finds Ellie's eyes. "Hey, kid."
"Hey," she replies.
"Mind if we have the room?" Nat asks.
She's not really talking to Ellie. Bruce nods, and leaves with that. Kamala offers her a fist bump before she goes. "Nice job with Cutthroat."
Ellie can't help but smile. Not all the way, though. She's lying to Kamala about her condition. "Thanks."
The door closes again and it's just her and Nat. Ellie swallows. She doesn't know if she can hide what she's feeling from her.
Nat grabs a chair and places it next to Ellie's bed, sitting down. She gives Ellie a tilted glance.
Ellie doesn't know what she's thinking, so she waits.
"I take it you're in relative health, from the look on Bruce's face."
Ellie nods. It's more or less a lie, but Nat doesn't react.
Nat sighs.
"Did I screw up?" Ellie asks.
Nat frowns, but she thinks about it. She shakes her head. "No. But I wondered if I did."
"Huh?"
"Ellie, what happened down there?"
Ellie hesitates, then repeats the explanation she'd given the others.
Nat nods. "That's not normally how Cutthroat's weapon affects people, but I'll keep an eye on your scans."
Ellie wills her breathing to be even, despite the tension in her chest.
Nat's stare relents and her eyes drift in chagrin. "But that's not what's top of mind, if I'm telling the truth."
Ellie's chest tenses. "What do you mean?" she asks.
Nat considers her. "Alright, time to come clean. Ellie, all this time you've been here, working with me, I've left a lot unsaid."
Ellie's long noticed that. She didn't expect Nat to break her silence now. She nods hesitantly.
"You're a refugee here. A victim of AIM, like a lot of the inhumans we try to help. But I sensed strength in you, and restlessness. I gave you what I had, something I thought you could chew on. And again and again, I was surprised by your appetite."
Ellie's eyes soften and her brow wrinkles.
"Every time I knocked you down, you got back up. You even knocked me down a few times. Ellie, we kept you here so we could protect you. I never had any intention of putting you in the field, but then I found myself saying the words. And you showed up, again and again. I—"
A rare expression of pain comes over Nat's face. Ellie's hand finds Nat's automatically, hanging over her knee. Nat looks down at it, then cracks a small, rueful smile. She squeezes Ellie's hand and places it back by her side.
"Ellie, I was raised up hard. No room for softness, in a place like that. And after I graduated, I traveled all around the world, showing what I was capable of.
"Now and then, whoever I was working for would have me train somebody else. I was a good teacher, but I taught like I learned. It didn't take me long to realize that I needed to slow down, or I'd break them. So eventually I learned to go slow, one step at a time. Push them, a little harder every day, until they couldn't take it anymore. Sometimes it paid off, they turned into great soldiers, fighters, spies. Sometimes I pushed them too hard, and they ended up getting themselves killed."
Ellie's features slacken.
"I've pushed a few people harder than you," says Nat, "but not many. And when you stopped responding to comms yesterday, I thought I'd pushed you too far, too."
Nat's brows are gently knit in a rare display of emotion. She shakes her head surely. "And I wouldn't have forgiven myself for that."
"It's not your fault," Ellie finds herself saying.
For some reason, it makes Nat frown at her.
Ellie finds herself looking at Clint, in that apartment in Santa Barbara, him telling her that he took every step since Jackson with his own two feet.
"Whatever I do," Ellie continues, "whatever happens to me, I would never blame you."
"I would," says Nat.
"Well, I wouldn't," says Ellie, frowning. There's something familiar in Nat, right now, and Ellie doesn't like it. "So just know that."
Nat continues frowning for a second, then she snorts softly. "Well," she says, taking a deep breath and releasing it, "I guess I can't argue with that."
Without warning, Nat leans over into the bed and pulls Ellie into a warm embrace.
Ellie finds herself blushing, then embracing Nat back needfully.
"I'm glad you made it back, kid," says Nat.
"Thank you," Ellie says without explanation.
Nat releases her and stands up, replacing the chair where she'd found it. She turns to go.
"You're not gonna keep me from going back out," Ellie says, "are you?"
Nat looks over her shoulder. "For a few days… After that?" She cracks a tiny smile. "Not if you have half the grit you seem to."
Nat leaves her room and Ellie is left again in the quiet. After all the time they've spent together the last few weeks, Nat's embrace had felt really good. She feels stable again, for the first time in a while.
'It always amazes me how these brutish 'heroes' can be so sympathetic to each other,' says Mephisto, as if from right over her shoulder.
Ellie winces.
'Don't let it fool you, Ellie. They only see the best in you. The rest is left to me.'
Ellie screws up her face and falls back into the bed, turning and burying her head in her pillow.
Ellie trudges down a hallway along the port side of the Chimera. She's the only one in it for now, and it's quiet, which is a relief. There are many windows along the hallway, letting in bountiful morning sunlight, but it's a bit too bright for her taste.
She yawns again. It's been a few days since the Defcon 3 op at the AIM site. Her light wounds have recovered, and as much as she's tried to sleep—waking reality hasn't been kind to her—she doesn't feel particularly rested. She can't get through a night without a new brand of nightmare jerking her awake.
She's been treated to a litany of awful scenes from her past, tormenting her with more clarity than ever before and, with twisted new endings. It's that, or it's a horrible version of the Avengers finding out about her new 'condition,' and her meeting an unsavory end.
The image of Thor's eyes, burning with pure white power in judgment. And Kate, loosing an arrow directly through her heart. And Hulk had been terrifying, raising his fists above his head to crush the life out of her.
The most cutting one had been when Nat found out. Ellie had tried to fight her off, but she had been no match. Swiftly pinned, Nat had looked down on her in contempt and disgust. "You should have just told me," she says before knocking Ellie out.
Ellie presses her fingers into her eyes for the hundredth time in the last few days. She pauses in the hallway, glancing out one of the windows.
'Your trigger finger itches.' She can see Mephisto's reflection in the glass.
Ellie blinks with fatigue.
'You need to get some action in. It's been too long since you've shed blood.'
She moves her feet and keeps walking down the corridor.
The others have gone on more missions since that day, but Nat told her she wanted her to rest up until she was at full capacity again. Ellie suspects Nat is actually testing her mental elasticity. Mephisto agrees.
'You're inches from damaged goods,' the demon would say, 'you can't blame her, can you? Everyone can see it but you.'
She finds herself in front of the tech lab. She walks through the double doors, which part before her.
The sound of rotors and cutting tools can be heard throughout the space. Glancing about with drooping eyelids, she spies a familiar back. She approaches.
Tony turns preternaturally, meeting eyes with her. "Morning, sunshine."
"Morning," she replies.
A new color appears around his head area, but his face doesn't change. "Getting enough sleep?"
"As much as I'm used to," she replies. She picks up some pieces of tech on his table, inspecting them. But her characteristic curiosity doesn't manifest. She puts them back down.
"Come to finish your job?"
"Huh?"
He gestures. She recognizes that piece of tech he'd had her soldering on her second day. "You never finished it?"
"I assigned that to you. You like to leave jobs half finished?"
She picks up the soldering glove, looking down at the finely fabricated chip, connections so small she can barely see them. "What's this thing for, anyway?"
"It governs motor control of the upper right quadrant." Tony holds up his right hand, wiggling his ring and pinky fingers.
"What?" Ellie asks incredulously. "That's it, dude?!"
"Yeah," says Tony, "that's very important. How am I supposed to punch bad guys or shake the president's hand without that? Did you think it was for the lasers?"
"Or something cool like that…" she says.
"It's all part and parcel, kid. Tell you what, you finish that, and I can show you something cooler."
It piques Ellie for a moment.
'You know, if you can get your hands on some of his better weapons, I can really show you how to use them.'
Unbidden, the image of a cutthroat in apocalyptic Pittsburg appears in her mind. He hears her approach and wheels on her, gun in hand, but it's too late. She raises her repulsor gauntlet and blasts his head right off his shoulders.
She suppresses the wince. She puts the soldering glove back down. "Yeah… that sounds cool, but I'm just not sure I have the focus right now."
Tony's look lingers for a second, between glances at what he's actively working on. He removes a circular cuff banded with circuitry from a magnetic vise, turns it, and it seizes back into place at a new angle. "Body, then mind."
"What?" she asks him.
"Got to juice the body, then the mind will fall into step. Might seem counterintuitive, but Steve taught me this one. You start getting into a funk, feeling lethargic, you need to get your body moving. Me, I'll go for a run, do some life fire practice or something. Break a good sweat, and you'll find your mind sharper next time you need to focus it. How I wound up at some of my best breakthroughs."
'The only breakthrough you need is to accept your destiny, by my side.'
Ellie does her best to ignore Mephisto, and thinks. Something about what Tony's saying makes sense, even though it's kind of the last thing she wants to do.
"You been to the HARM room lately?" Tony asks her. "Nat doesn't need to be there, Jarvis will set you up with all kinds of sims. She'd be glad to hear it, I bet."
Tony must be able to tell that Nat's approval means a lot to her. But that sounds like a bit too much. Something occurs to her.
"Hey," she says, "is there an archery range or something? I know Kate said…"
Tony considers her. "Or something. Go to deck four, starboard aft. There's a special cargo area. The purple duo's favorite. You can't miss it."
Ellie nods. "Thanks, Tony."
"No problem, kid," he says. "Stay sharp."
'An edge for the knife,' Mephisto croons.
A surge of heat forms in Ellie's chest, but she doesn't bother. She's indeed learned it's futile to fight Mephisto directly.
'Abby's right, Ellie. You are a knife. Letting yourself get dull? Oh, what a shame that would be.'
She walks out of the tech lab and, like a zombie, follows Tony's directions. A few passing SHIELD folks pay her greetings, and she nods back without much energy.
She's walking down a wide hallway with large cargo doors on either side. She notices one with a purple bullseye painted next to it. It doesn't look sanctioned. She touches the pad by the door, and it rolls upward.
It's a longish room, full of boxes, but they're all piled up on the sides of the room. At the end of the room, there are a series of traditional looking archery targets set up. Toward the front, there's a horizontal row of boxes serving as a sort of counter. There are a few quivers of different types of arrows laying on it. There's only one person in the room. It's Clint. Hawkeye Clint.
He takes a deep breath, and releases it. In perhaps a second, he nocks, aims, and releases three arrows. All three strike different bullseyes in front of him. He surveys his work.
"Damn, dude," says Ellie, walking up behind him. "I mean, I know they call you Hawkeye, but that was nuts."
He looks over his shoulder at her in surprise. "Thanks, Ellie. I assumed it was Katie. She never leaves me alone in here for long."
"Is that what you do down here? Just shoot bullseyes all day?"
He snorts. "Kind of. I've got a number of routines I practice. There's a hundred ways to loose an arrow. For this one, I try to keep my rate above 90%."
"Jesus. I'd be happy to have that making one careful shot at a time."
"Kate told me you can pull. Want to give it a shot?"
"Well…" says Ellie. "I suppose that is what I came here for." She looks around for another bow.
Clint gestures to the back wall, by the door. There's a compound bow leaned up against some crates. "It's Katie's backup."
"She gonna get mad if I touch it?"
"If she does, just tell her I said you could."
That summons a half smirk on Ellie's face. She picks up the bow, pulling on the string. It feels like the one she'd handled in the tech lab that day, before her first op.
She walks to the row of crates and picks up an arrow. There are five targets. She picks one that doesn't have one of Clint's arrows jutting out from the center. She takes a breath, and releases it. She nocks the arrow, draws the string, feels out the target, and releases.
The arrow whistles through the air and lands in the second ring.
'You need a real eye for a target.'
Ellie scrunches her cheek. She'd have liked a bullseye, but it's a fair shot at sixty feet or so. These manufactured arrows are lighter than she's used to. The wood arrows she makes are heavier and near-perfectly straight at best.
"Nice," says Clint.
She gives him a look.
He smiles. "Hey, I mean it. I liked your form, you've loosed a few in your time, it's obvious."
"Not as many as you, I imagine."
"I hope not. But that's another story. What brings you down here?"
"Tony says I need some exercise," she says, sniffing. "That I'm losing my focus."
Clint nods. "You know, I think I get that. I feel that way too, more often than I like."
She looks at him skeptically.
"It's true," he says. "I'm kind of a… perfectionist. When I make a mistake, I tend to beat myself up. And when you run all the risks we do, mistakes are bound to happen. And they can matter. Big."
"Yeah," says Ellie, "I know the feeling. I can't really afford to be a perfectionist, though. If I did…"
'You couldn't live with yourself.'
Anger flashes across her face.
"Yeah, it's a vulnerability, frankly," says Clint. "Caring."
Ellie frowns, looking at him. "Caring?"
He considers her for a few moments. She can't read him. "You know, sometimes I envy Taskmaster."
"Taskmaster?" she asks him incredulously. "That asshole?"
Clint chuckles. "Yeah, him. You can't shake the bastard. There's nothing in this world you can take from him. Well—" he immediately interrupts himself, "that's not true, actually. You can take his money away, his men. His authority, his pride. His victory. He rages when these things threaten to elude him. That's easy. But that's not what's most important. You know what you can't take from him?"
Ellie frowns, and shakes her head.
"The things he doesn't have. Friends. Dignity. A noble purpose." Clint's eyes go far away for a second. "…a loved one."
An image appears in Ellie's mind, against her will. Clint is on the ground, bleeding and unable to stand. A woman stands in front of him, angry and defiant. Ellie raises her arm, but it's not her arm—the skin is bright red, the nails long and black. A bolt of hateful red lighting arcs from her palm into the woman's chest. She cries out in pain, and falls. The sound causes a wave of pleasure inside her.
Mephisto laughs in her mind, long and low.
Ellie grunts in pain, staggering on her feet and pressing her palm into her forehead.
"Ellie?" Clint asks, concerned, "are you alright?" She feels his hand on her shoulder, steadying her.
"It's nothing," she says quickly. "I've just been feeling… headaches, since a few days ago."
"Are you sure?"
She wills the awful feelings down. "Yes," she says. "I'm fine."
He releases her shoulder. "You should probably talk to—"
"I'm fine," she says a little too loudly. "I will, okay? Just… don't worry about that for now."
He hesitates. "As you say," he says, leaning back against the crates.
"You were saying…" Ellie struggles to regain her focus and composure. "You were saying you envied Taskmaster? How could you, after saying all that stuff?"
Clint nods. "Good question. Because those are the burdens of someone who cares, Ellie. Taskmaster felt pain once, and he decided he didn't want to ever feel it again. Look what that made him. Because cuts, burns, broken bones. These things hurt. But not like losing someone you care about."
She's on Joel's porch.
I've been thinking about trying. To forgive you, she'd said.
Not looking at her, he'd nodded a few times in the frigid air of the cold Winter's night. I'd like that.
She looks away, steadying her breathing. She's not to lose composure again.
"And when you know what that's like…" says Clint. Thankfully, his attention is off elsewhere. "Well… it's liable to make you a perfectionist."
That gets her attention. He meets her eyes again.
"And despite what you say, Ellie, I've got a feeling you're a bit of a perfectionist, too. Admit it or not."
A familiar feeling of smallness fills Ellie, and suddenly, she doesn't want to talk anymore.
"Just don't let perfect be the enemy of good," he says. His eyes drift from hers and he frowns. "Damn… that was almost good, then I went and ended it with a cliché."
Absurdly, a chuckle escapes Ellie's throat. "Yeah… kind of ruined the effect."
"For real… I obviously need more practice."
Ellie smiles. The irony isn't lost on her. "You're kind of goofy, you know that, Clint?"
"That's how I know I'm not taking myself too seriously." He pats his legs. "Well, better get back to putting up bullseyes."
She scoffs. "You gonna let me join you?"
"No sweat. Just no talking while bows are drawn."
"Works for me."
Ellie walks out of her room. The lights of the Chimera are low, since it's after lights-out. She should be sleeping—would be, if she could, but it eludes her. She's given in and is going to one of those vending machines for a glass of orange juice.
She's barefoot and wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a tank top. Should be fine, but it could be a little embarrassing if she runs into anyone. She hopes she won't, though. It's after eleven.
She holds one of the reusable plastic cups under the dispenser until the bright orange juice fills her cup to the top. They can't grow oranges in Jackson, not without a greenhouse, and there's just no room for that, yet. So orange juice is still a pretty special treat. Nat says it's 'from concentrate,' whatever that means. But it tastes amazing to her.
She's sipping it on her way back to her room when she hears voices. They're in the distance.
She takes another sip of the sweet, tangy drink.
'Something stopping you?' Mephisto asks from the wall next to her, idly cleaning his nails.
Ellie scratches her forehead. She finds the skin under the mark is irritated regularly. With little hope of a restful night in front of her, she moves in the direction of the voices.
They're familiar. As she gets closer, they're coming from the Tech Lab. The double doors are in front of her, but if she gets any closer, they'll open and reveal her presence. She leans against the wall by the door. She closes her eyes. Concentrating, she can make out what they're saying.
"I wouldn't have said shit if I didn't think it was important, you know that." She recognizes Clint's voice.
"I'm not saying you aren't, but can you be a little more clinical?" It's Tony.
"Clinical? Tony—"
"For my sake."
"No, Tony, I can't. It's just something I feel. She's shaky, alright? She almost broke down at the target range earlier."
Ellie's stomach drops.
Mephisto leans against the door in front of her, comically poised to eavesdrop. His lips part from his teeth in a smile. 'They're sniffing you out, Ellie. I told you to be cautious…'
"Meaning what?" Unless it's her imagination, Tony is a little defensive.
"Meaning wha—I don't know, Tony, what does that mean to you? Maybe the kid who got ripped from her dimension a few weeks ago, with unknown trauma in her past, shouldn't be getting pushed into live-fire combat scenarios—"
"You know I've thought of all that."
"Yes, I do, and if we can get past your ego for just one minute—"
"Nat trusts her. Okay? And if you're gonna talk about trauma and combat readiness, who else's mark of approval do you need?"
"I don't know, Tony, mine I guess. SHIELD doesn't field agents at psychological risk on the kinds of missions we go on. So why is she?"
"You know what, Clint? You win. You want to know why I've kept my mouth shut? Because Nat has her back, that's why."
"And you have Nat's back? Is that it?"
"No, because we don't do that, Clint. You know me. Don't make that accusation lightly. If this is so important to you—can't imagine why, by the way—you should be talking to Nat, not me."
There's a pause. "You can't imagine—"
"Forget I said that," Tony actually shows some chagrin, "I must be getting worked up—point is, I see what you're saying, but my lot falls with Nat. She talked to Steve about it, you know that."
There's another pause and the sound of shifting feet. When Clint speaks again, he agrees reluctantly. "I know Steve did…"
"So what are you hoping to get from me?"
"A little shrewd rationality, I guess?"
"Well—now that's fair, and sensible. However, in this case I'm afraid I must disappoint you."
There's a scoff.
"Clint, what are you so afraid of?"
They're at least twenty feet away and through the wall, but if she concentrates, Ellie can make them out.
Clint is giving Tony a lingering look. "I thought you remembered, by that comment earlier. Or maybe you weren't thinking of Sierra." Clint turns, a bitter expression on his face. "Maybe you were thinking of one of my other fuck ups."
"Clint, buddy, hold on," Tony follows him and grabs his arm, but Clint just pulls away.
Tony gives up and runs his hand through his hair in discomfit.
It's at this moment that Ellie realizes Clint is headed right for her. She freezes for a second, then looks around desperately.
The hallway is long, and there's almost nowhere to hide. There's a small alcove with a couch, a table, and a couple more vending machines. Not thinking, she runs over, drops her cup onto the table, and nimbly mantles atop the vending machines, sidling into the space a couple feet between their tops and the ceiling.
The double doors to the tech lab open, and footsteps come her way. Clint has a nasty expression on his face. Then he stops in front of the break area, looking her way.
Ellie tenses up. But he's not looking at her. He's looking at the half-finished cup of juice she left on the table. He cocks an eyebrow and keeps walking.
Ellie releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She listens, but there are no more footsteps.
She slides over and drops off the vending machines onto her bare feet. She grabs her juice.
'Isn't it sweet to know they care?'
The sarcasm complements the sickening feeling in her gut, the tired muscles on her face wrinkling, again.
She glances at the tech lab one last time before going back to her room.
Tony's still standing there, facing the other way, hand on his chin. He stays that way for some time, and in the end, he just curses under his breath.