The moment Maggie woke up she felt her heartrate skyrocket, and heard a corresponding escalation of beeping from nearby. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, head turning to take in her surroundings. She was back in the Tower; the medical wing, from the looks of things, and she sat on one of the few beds, still wearing the light underarmor she'd had on under her uniform. A glance at the far window told her the sun was still up.
"Whoah, whoah," came a familiar voice, and she flinched when she felt hands on her shoulders - it was Tony, his brow knotted and his eyes concerned. "You're okay, you're safe." He looked over his shoulder. "She's awake."
Maggie followed his gaze, her heart still racing, and spotted the on-call doctor, Dr Briar, striding down the medical wing toward her bed.
"What happened?" Maggie asked, her mouth dry and her mind sluggish. She looked down at herself. They'd been on a mission, she'd - she hadn't been able to breathe. She patted her chest. "Was I hit?"
"No," Dr Briar said as she came level with Maggie's bed and checked her heart rate and blood pressure on the monitor. Tony settled back into the seat beside Maggie's bed. He wore civvies now, but there was a nasty bruise on his chin. Dr Briar met Maggie's eyes. "You had a severe panic attack and you were sedated."
"Oh." Her fingers twisted in the thin sheet on her bed and she glanced to Tony. "But - the mission?"
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "It went fine. I got hit with a short-term EMP, which is what grounded me. Then you - Nat sedated you and I got you back to the Quinjet, but the others managed to knock out the ground to air guns and secure the facility."
"Oh thank god," Maggie breathed, closing her eyes and leaning back until her head hit the pillow. Her heart still thundered in her chest, but her brain was catching up.
Shame and guilt dripped through her like poison, eating at the base of her stomach. She had freaked out in the middle of the mission and put everyone in danger. She'd thought she was still capable of being an Avenger, but clearly-
"The emergency sedative used has had no ill effects, and other than a mild ankle sprain and a few contusions, you appear to be in good physical health," Dr Briar said. "Have you ever had a panic attack before?"
Maggie opened her eyes and licked her lips. Dr Briar's tone was professional and her face even. "Um, maybe," she admitted, unable to think of what to say. Tony tensed in his chair. "But I've read they can be, like, one-off things, right?"
"They can be," Briar acknowledged. "They can also be part of a regular pattern, or triggered by particular stimuli. Have you been experiencing a more-than-average amount of stress and anxiety in your life at the moment?"
Maggie and Tony shared a glance, before Maggie quickly looked away.
She reached up and ran her hands over her face, trying to put her thoughts in order. "Listen," she said. "I really just want to go rest, I'm exhausted. Can I… you'll be here if I want to come back to ask more questions, right Dr Briar?" she asked, fully intending to never do that.
"Of course," Briar said. "Your readings are all normal now so you're free to go, but I do advise you to seek further-"
"Thank you," Maggie said with a tight smile, swinging her legs off the bed and getting to her feet, stepping gingerly as her left ankle tweaked with pain.
"Let me help you." Tony darted around the bed with his arm out, but Maggie waved him off.
"I'm okay, really. I just want to rest."
Tony shot a glance at Dr Briar, who was heading back to her desk, then followed Maggie as she hobbled out of the medical wing. Maggie felt slow and stupid from the sedative, and the hot, acidic feelings bubbling up from her stomach threatened to overwhelm her. Tony hovering a step behind her wasn't helping.
"The others wanted to take turns sitting with you, but I told them you probably wouldn't want them fussing," Tony said as the med wing doors slid open. "They're worried about you, Maggie, and I think we should talk-"
The doors slid shut behind them. Maggie didn't stop walking, because she had a sudden fear that if she did, she'd never move again. "Tony, please - please just drop it. I don't want to talk about it."
"You can't ignore this forever, Maggot."
She kept her eyes fixed forward. "Ignore what? That someone killed our parents? Believe me, I'm not ignoring it. The guy's upstairs right now probably having a great old time with Steve." She made it to the fire stairs, because she did not want to be in an elevator with Tony right now, and started surging upward.
Tony followed relentlessly. "This isn't about him anymore-"
"Exactly, we handled it," Maggie said curtly. "It's done. So please, just… respect my privacy, okay? I know I messed up, but-"
"I'm just trying to help you, Maggot-"
"Stop calling me that."
The words fell heavy in the echoing space of the stairwell. Maggie heard Tony come to a stop behind her and she stopped too, her hand on the railing. She didn't look back. "I know you want to help," she said shortly. "Help me by just… dropping it. Please."
And with that she continued climbing the stairs, leaving her brother behind.
Maggie holed herself up in her suite the rest of the day, warring with embarrassment and guilt and fear and lingering exhaustion from her panic attack and the sedative. She went through the motions of a breathing exercise, a shower, and a nap, but none of it eased the acidic ball of guilt in her stomach.
Is this who I am without a mission? She wondered. Is this who I have always been, deep down?
She couldn't bear to face the others. She didn't know which would be worse: their frustration at her for ruining the mission, or their pity. She ate dinner in her suite, and muted J.A.R.V.I.S. whenever he tried to speak.
She knew it wasn't sustainable to hide. But she simply did not have the energy to face anyone's questions or concern.
In the evening, just as Maggie was considering finding another sedative to put herself to sleep, the door to her suite opened. She shot upright in her bed and reached for the gun under her mattress, but hesitated when the intruder paced into her bedroom and paused in the doorway.
Natasha wore leggings and a hoodie, and she stood silently in the entrance to Maggie's bedroom with a calm, self-assured look, as if she belonged there. Sitting upright in bed, Maggie just stared at her. No one should have been able to get into her room without her permission, even if J.A.R.V.I.S. tried to let them in.
She was aware she looked a mess: her hair was still damp from the shower, pulled into a damp pile on the top of her head, and deep shadows hung under her eyes. But Natasha looked at her with neither pity nor concern.
"They decided that I should be the one to speak to you, because I could be the most convincing," Natasha said by way of a hello. She pulled her hands out of her hoodie pocket and looked at Maggie levelly. "But I don't need to try to convince you. Because you're smarter than me." She said it matter-of-factly. "And you already know what you need to do."
She stood there for another few seconds, her eyes on Maggie, then turned and strode out again. The door clicked shut behind her.
After midnight, when it became clear sleep was out of reach, Maggie crawled out of bed and crept out of her suite down to the common area. She paced aimlessly through the dark corridors and empty spaces, glad that the others had all gone to sleep. She leaned her forehead against the large glass window of the common room and looked down at the still-bright city.
"Ms Stark," J.A.R.V.I.S. said in a low tone via a speaker in the nearest wall. "Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have just left Captain Rogers's quarters and are about to enter this area."
Maggie let out a breath that fogged the glass. "Of course they are." She pushed herself upright and padded over to the stairs, climbing up to the third floor and then slipping into the corridor beyond. It was almost completely dark in here, with just the ambient light from the city glowing through the window at the end of the corridor. Maggie pressed her back to the wall and lowered herself until she was sitting on the floor. She didn't feel like going back to her room just yet.
She heard the soft swish of a glass door and then footsteps in the common area behind her as Steve and Barnes entered.
"- sure I left it in here," came Steve's soft voice. "Yes, there it is - you want a drink while we're in here?"
Maggie couldn't hear any response, but after a few moments there was a clink of glasses from the bar.
"You don't need to worry about me, Buck," Steve said about a minute later. "These injuries'll be cleared up in no time."
"You oughta be more careful," came a low, gruff voice.
"Probably. But the mission was a success, in the end. You know I can't tell you much, and I know you think something went wrong-"
"I can tell. You're worried about something."
"You really don't need to worry about it. It's getting handled."
"Hm."
They slipped into silence again, save for clinking glasses and the occasional slide of feet on the floor, or a hand on a countertop. Maggie listened with her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes closed. It was strangely soothing to listen to something other than her own racing thoughts.
When Barnes next spoke, the tone in his voice made her open his eyes: "Steve. I'm getting… bad. I need to be back in my room."
Maggie straightened, frowning.
"Okay," Steve said, far calmer than she had expected. "Let's head back."
Unconsciously, Maggie got back to her feet and crept into the common area. She peered down from her upper level and spotted Steve and Barnes's backs as they strode back out of the room. She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking.
A second later, she made her decision. She hurried down the stairs, her bare feet soundless on the metal save for the slightest clink from the silicone base of her prosthetic foot, and then slipped out the same door Steve and Barnes had left through. She could guess the route they would take back to Barnes's suite so she ghosted along it, hurrying until she heard of the sound of their footsteps, and then hanging back. She couldn't be sure why she was following them, except for maybe a morbid curiosity. J.A.R.V.I.S., thankfully, kept his mouth shut. She cast a warning look up at one of the cameras she passed, just in case.
She couldn't hear much, but she didn't think Steve and Barnes said anything as they headed back to their floor. When they turned down the corridor to both of their suites, Maggie pressed her back against the wall just around the corner.
Their footsteps slowed, and then there was a second of silence.
"Is this a need-to-be-alone moment, or a sit-with-you moment?" Steve asked, with good humor.
There was another second as Barnes thought about this. "Alone for now," he murmured. "Got some strategies from Raynor I need to work on. I'll - J.A.R.V.I.S. can talk to you. When I… when I'm better."
Maggie risked the barest glance around the corner then, just a shadow in the darkness. Barnes stood with his back to her, but she could see Steve's face as he nodded, accepting. "Thank you, Buck."
"Don't know what you're thanking me for," Barnes said, and despite the tension in his voice Maggie could tell there was a smile somewhere in there.
"I know how hard this is," Steve shrugged. "And you keep doing it anyway. Thank you."
With another reassuring, if slightly sad smile, Steve turned and strode in the direction of his suite. Barnes turned to press his hand to his door, and Maggie slid back behind the corner of the wall. She waited until she heard both doors close before she padded back the way she'd come.
Maggie walked slowly back to the common area, her arms wrapped around her stomach and her eyes fixed in the middle distance, though she wasn't really looking where she was going. She felt fixated on that short interaction in the dark corridor, as if their soft words had crept inside her head and lodged hooks into her brain. It was like someone had shifted the world on its axis.
She found herself walking back up to her room. She couldn't pinpoint why that simple exchange between Steve and Barnes felt so important. And she didn't know why, but she knew she needed to figure it out. She replayed their words over in her mind, tried to glean some hidden meaning. It had been a very simple conversation, at its heart.
Halfway up the stairs to her residential level, Maggie froze. For a few moments she stood there, staring into empty space.
She let out a long breath.
Enough.
She turned and thundered back down the stairs.
Tony was in his workshop, arm deep in an engine since he couldn't sleep after the day he'd just had. Normally engineering quieted some of the chaos in his mind, but it seemed it didn't help at all when it came to his sister.
When the doors slid open and Maggie burst through in a clatter of footsteps and hurried breathing, he flinched and looked up.
Maggie had run down five floors to get here, and as she skidded to a halt in Tony's workshop she looked at him and beamed. She wore pajamas and her feet were bare. Her hair was a wild mess.
Tony straightened, dropping his precision tool and looking at her with concern. "What? What is it?"
Maggie crossed the workshop and gripped his arms, still grinning. "I am not okay."
His eyebrows flew up.
"I have been having a really awful few months," she said, the words tripping over themselves in her desperation to get them out. "I helped get our parents' murderer into therapy. And I've been feeding him, and trying to work out why I didn't kill him when I had the chance. And I've been feeling like shit about it! I can barely sleep. I'm terrified of… of so many things now. People touching me. Sitting in cars. The medical wing. Some days I can't even get out of bed, I'm so tired from being afraid. I've had four panic attacks now, and today's was the worst."
Tony's face crumpled as she spoke, but his brow remained furrowed. "Maggie, I… why are you smiling?"
"Because I'm telling you." She let go of him and spread her arms, letting out a shaky laugh. She felt like she could finally breathe freely, and it was intoxicating. "I can just tell you!"
That was what had so completely captured her astonishment about Steve and Barnes's low, murmured conversation. There'd been no hiding, and no pretending - just one person confiding his mental state and his needs to his friend. Barnes had felt an episode coming on, and had just... told Steve. Easy as that.
Tony's brow only furrowed further. He took a hesitant step forward, as if not sure what to do.
Maggie dropped her arms. "I… Tony, my whole life, secrets have been carving me out from the inside. And even though I told you everything about the car crash, and the Soldier, I still haven't been able to let go of that instinct to keep secrets. I didn't… I didn't know any different until just this second."
She reached up and ran her hands through her hair, still half-smiling. "I haven't told anyone about how I've been feeling because I've always needed to keep this horrible, closed up part of me to myself. But I'm not going to do it any more. I am going to be honest. And the honest truth right now is that I need help." She started pacing, her eyes alight. "I'm going to get a therapist. I'm - I'm going to tell this therapist every single awful, terrible, ugly thing that's happened to me, and that I've done, and then it won't all just be on me. And I'm going to tell you when I'm not feeling well," she added, pointing to her bewildered brother.
"And I'm going to tell Pepper, and Steve, and Nat, and everyone else and maybe I'll overshare but at this point I really don't give a shit, because… because screw it!" she threw up her hands. "I don't have to keep it a secret any more!"
She stood there, breathing hard and still grinning maniacally, and Tony stared back at her for several long moments.
He set his hands on his workbench. "Did… did I just witness you have the biggest breakthrough of your life?"
"I think so!" she said excitedly.
Slowly, a smile rose on Tony's face. "Well. I can help you on the therapist front, but first… did you want to try it out now? Honesty? I can take whatever you've got." He pulled out the stool beside him and patted it. "Talk to me."
Maggie strode forward, already anticipating an exhausting and upsetting recount of how she'd been spending her last few months. But she wasn't afraid of it, because… the only thing that had been keeping her lonely was her own stupid brain.
But before she took her seat, she paused. "Can I hug you?"
His mouth quirked. "Can I call you Maggot again?"
She smiled. "Always."
He pulled her into a hug, his arms banding tight around her, and Maggie was so elated that she didn't even feel a prickle of fear. She dropped her face onto his shoulder and breathed out.
"I'm proud of you, Maggot," Tony murmured.
Maggie and Tony talked through the night. And in the morning, with help from a very relieved and empathetic Pepper, Maggie booked an appointment with a therapist.
"She's one of the specialists I considered for Sergeant Barnes," Pepper said. "She's very good, and she says she'll come in this afternoon."
Maggie's newfound realization had not evaporated in the light of day. It was as if some impossible puzzle in her mind had untangled itself after months of struggling against it: and the key was honesty. Her secrets had been hollowing her out and slicing her up from the inside, so she let them go. She made a resolution to be honest, where she could, and to keep no secrets.
And if the newfound feeling of lightness wasn't enough to tell her that she'd made the right move, the look of sheer relief on Tony and Pepper's faces as she began reorganising her life would have done it.
Over breakfast, Maggie tried to explain what had gone wrong on the mission in Venezuela. "I knew I was at risk of another panic attack, but I thought I'd be okay on missions, because the mission was always more important than my own fear."
"So what happened?" Tony asked, his head propped on one hand as he sipped coffee.
Maggie thought about it. The panic had seized her so suddenly she'd been helpless to try to overcome it. "It had been building, the panic, in small things. But then... you got hurt," she realized. "And you're more important than the mission."
Tony's brows bunched together and he reached out to put a hand on her arm. "I can't promise I'll never get hurt," he murmured. "But I can promise that I'm tougher than I look," he said wryly.
"I know. But tell that to my brain."
He shrugged, easily understanding how logic sometimes flew out the window in the face of panic. "I was the same, whenever anyone brought up New York. I knew it was long past, but I still felt like I had to protect… everyone. Including myself. I still do, sometimes." He glanced to Pepper, and she set her hand on his.
Maggie let out a long breath and pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "I need to talk to Steve."
"Steve can wait-"
"No," she murmured. "That was his mission, and I nearly blew it."
"I mean, you weren't the only one who nearly blew that mission."
She peeled her hands away and cast a glance at him. "What does that mean?"
Tony shifted. "We might have… had an altercation in the basement."
"I knew those guys hadn't managed to get the drop on you," she exclaimed as she reached out to tilt up his chin, eyeing the nasty bruise on his face. "Steve did this?"
Tony shrugged. "I swung first, and it's water under the bridge now. We're good."
Her eyebrows rose. "Good, like, completely good?"
He nodded. "I really do not have the energy to hold a grudge, I've realized. And the moral high ground really does not suit me."
Maggie sat back. "So what, you hit each other a bit and now you're friends again?"
Tony shrugged again and nodded.
"Men," she sighed.
"That's what Nat said when she saw the bruises."
Maggie rubbed her forehead. "Well, I still need to go talk to Steve. I'll… Tony, thank you. For everything."
"Thank you," he shot back. "For looking after yourself."
The words were so similar to what Steve had said to Barnes last night that she blinked.
Maggie met Steve down in the Avengers staff levels, in his allocated office. It was a barebones space, since he hadn't had much time to decorate, but with a lovely view out towards Brooklyn.
Steve sat behind his desk, looking out the window, but when she opened the door he shot to his feet. "Maggie, hi," he said, with a surprisingly small amount of awkwardness. "J.A.R.V.I.S. said you wanted to talk down here." His eyes flicked over her. "You look better."
"Now I'm not unconscious," she replied wryly as she took a seat opposite his desk, not quite able to look him in the eye. He sat as well. "Listen, Steve…" her hands twisted in her lap. "I wanted to say how sorry I am-"
He held up a hand. "You don't need to apologize, Maggie-"
"I could have ruined that mission," she pressed. "I could have got people hurt." She looked down at her lap. "I'm quitting the team."
She kept looking down at her lap, waiting for Steve to speak. But the silence stretched on, until finally she looked up to make sure he hadn't somehow left the room. He was still there though, examining her. When her eyes met his he still didn't speak.
Finally, she swallowed. "You kinda have to… accept my resignation. Verbally."
He drew in a breath. "I'm trying to figure out if I'm going to," he finally said. His blue eyes were keen as he looked at her. He leaned back. "Y'know, this isn't the first time this has happened."
She frowned.
"This isn't the first time I've had a soldier have a panic attack," he clarified, and then inclined his head. "Though of course we didn't have a name for them back in the war. And I - I want to say, Maggie, you're not just a soldier to me. But you came to me as an Avenger, so that's where we'll start. And having a panic attack… that doesn't mean you're not an Avenger."
"But it happened on a mission."
"I've seen that before too," he said, irritatingly patient.
"But you've never had one," she shot back.
"No," he admitted. "I think the super soldier serum got that part of me too - made sure I'd always be focused, to make me a perfect fighter. But that's beside the point. I've worked with soldiers who had emotional breakdowns in battle. But that doesn't necessarily mean you have to quit the team. Fighting isn't natural, and it messes you up." He sat back in his chair. "Now if you're quitting because it's the fighting that's making things worse for you, if you think quitting will be better for your mental health, then yes, absolutely I'll accept your resignation. But…" he leaned forward, and something of the Captain slipped away from his face.
"Maggie," he said in a lower voice. "As your friend. Will you tell me what's been going on?"
She let out a breath. This time, choosing honesty was a little harder. But she knew it was what she needed. "I've been struggling," she said. "It's not even really about Barnes any more, I don't think. I… I think I haven't dealt with what happened to me when I was a kid very well. But I've also not been handling everything with HYDRA, and bringing in Barnes, and just… just living a normal life. I've been having panic attacks. Can't sleep. Fear has been… shutting me down. And I thought I'd be okay on that mission, but seeing Tony get knocked down just set me off. And I haven't been asking for help. But I have now, and I've got a therapy session this afternoon." She scratched her jaw. "That's… more or less the Cliffs Notes." She looked up. "Cliffs Notes are-"
"I know about Cliffs Notes," Steve said with a brush of a smile.
"Oh."
He frowned as he looked at her. "So why're you asking to quit the team?"
"I don't want to let any of you down," she said firmly. "If this happened again, if I got any of you hurt… that'd be worse than anything. I don't think I can be an Avenger right now."
"Okay," he acknowledged. "And trust me, I'm not going to take the possibility of people getting hurt lightly. But Maggie… you are an Avenger." She frowned again. "Whether you're on the field, or in the ops room, or kicking back at home safe and happy and out of the fight, you will be always be an Avenger."
She let out a gusting breath, and tears pricked at her eyes. She looked down.
"I'm not going to send you back into the fight until you're ready for it," Steve continued. "But it sounds like you've made good steps towards getting your head right. We'll work with you, take it step by step. And hey" - she looked up to see the corner of Steve's mouth ticking up - "you've gotta admit, we were never the most emotionally stable team to begin with. If anything, you fit in now."
Maggie laughed, surprised, and then she launched out of her seat and around the desk to squeeze Steve in a hug. He stood up so she wouldn't have to lean down, and squeezed her back. Steve gave good hugs.
"Thank you," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"Thank you for talking to me about it. Thought I might have to get Natasha to torture it out of you at one point."
She laughed again. "Captain America, condoning torture? That'll be the day."
"And listen, I… I know it's hard, with Bucky here. And I know it must be hard seeing me with him, with me being friends with both him and you. If you ever need me to-"
"Don't change a thing, Steve Rogers," Maggie said. And smiled when he squeezed her tighter.
Dr Mai Nguyen was good at her job. It had become clear during her studies that she would be an excellent psychiatrist, but it was only after her PhD was published that she found her niche: high profile, complex, and confidential cases. She'd been interviewed for one of these cases a few months ago by the CEO of Stark Industries, but had received a very polite letter a week later informing her they had gone in a different direction. So receiving a phone call this morning asking if she could come to Avengers Tower by midday to begin signing NDAs was a pleasant surprise.
Mai had not come from a wealthy background, so the opulence of Avengers Tower was slightly alarming. She ought to be accustomed to it, after years of handling cases in the upper echelons of society, but it wasn't something she thought she could get used to. Some of her clients sensed this and distrusted her, but that never lasted long; no matter who her client was, Mai was a natural born therapist. And more than that, she kept her mouth shut.
It took a couple of hours, but after a whole stack of various NDAs in a meeting with an SI lawyer, and a quick handshake greeting with Pepper Potts, Mai found herself in a nicely decorated office on the fiftieth floor of Avengers Tower. Ms Potts had informed her who her client would be, and Mai had a few minutes to accustom herself to the notion of becoming a therapist for an Avenger.
When there was a knock at the door, she calmly called: "Come in!" and in walked Maggie Stark.
Ms Stark didn't look like she did on the news; after years of experience working with politicians and celebrities, Mai was not surprised by this. Clients came to therapy either highly defensive, or cracked open, and that was always a stark difference to their public presence. Ms Stark looked like a mix of both. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, with her dark hair tangled up in a knot on top of her head and lines of tiredness on her face. She walked with a slight limp. But despite her demeanour, and her clear exhaustion, her eyes were sharp and watchful.
They exchanged quick greetings, and then Ms Stark - call me Maggie - was sitting on the low couch opposite Mai.
"I hope this isn't too weird for you," Maggie said, her elbows propped on her knees. "I know it must be… you know, coming here, and then me. Tony's got a therapist, but I never asked him what it was like at first."
Mai had not known that about Mr Stark, but everything she learned here was strictly covered by NDAs. She wouldn't divulge anything even if someone held a gun to her head. And that had happened once before, when her client had been a mob boss. "I'm perfectly comfortable," she reassured Maggie. "I'm used to working in offices that aren't my own. And don't worry, I won't be asking you to autograph anything."
"So how does this work, then?" Maggie asked, her eyes darting but never seeming to fix on Mai for long. "I can tell you what I think is wrong with me, but I'm not qualified to make any diagnoses, obviously. I think for sure I've got some kind of PTSD though, and that's just for starters." Mai opened her mouth but Maggie went on. "J.A.R.V.I.S., can you bring up the thing?"
Mai blinked as light bloomed over the coffee table between them, resolving itself into the shape of a blue… file? It looked like several screens of information and photographs stacked together in a row, all digital. Small labels identified each screen, and Mai could just make out one that read December 16, 1991. Another one read Amputation & Prosthetic.
Maggie waved a hand at the revolving file. "I wasn't sure what kind of data you'd need, so I've collated a file on my psychological trauma, both in chronological order of when things happened, and then organised by my different triggers and the symptoms they cause. There's medical files and newspaper clippings interspersed throughout as well. Some of it is... more confidential than the rest, but the NDAs should cover that."
Mai leaned back and laced her hands together, trying to contain her surprise - though she was pretty sure her eyebrows were higher on her face than normal.
"I'm too prepared, aren't I," Maggie said, deflating slightly. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Tony said all I needed to do was talk, but there's a lot to cover, and I-"
"You don't need to worry about it," Mai said gently. She considered the floating file. "I think it's very valuable for you to have written down what you'd like to work on. Writing therapy is a very effective way of expressing your emotions and dealing with painful memories." She looked down and met Maggie's gaze. She could see a sharp, brilliant intelligence in those eyes, and she began to brainstorm some strategies. "I will say I've never seen writing therapy done quite like this before, though," she said with a faint smile, careful not to make it disparaging.
"I read about writing therapy," Maggie said as she sat back, a little disarmed. "So… what am I supposed to do?"
Mai nodded. "I'm conscious there's a lot you want to get through, and hopefully if we have further sessions we'll have plenty of time to get into that. But how about we start with the reason you decided to set up this appointment?"
Maggie's expression cleared and she nodded. "Yes, okay. So I… last night, I had an epiphany," she began.
Mai sat back, ready to listen.
"How did it go?" Tony asked that afternoon, as he and Maggie sat back on a pair of reclining chairs by the enormous window in the common room.
"It was… well it wasn't fun, but it was good," Maggie said thoughtfully. She watched a helicopter buzz over the city below. "Mai says she's not going to prescribe anything right now, but will keep that as a possibility for the future. We talked about everything that's been going on, and I just…" she trailed off, chewing the inside of her cheek.
"What?" Tony prompted.
"I mean, when I said it all out loud it sounded bad, but not as…" she cocked her head. "Not as overwhelming as it felt before. I kept thinking I'd left something out."
"It's a cliche, but talking does make things more manageable," Tony shrugged lazily. "That's why I keep paying my therapist."
She smiled. "Well, I'm definitely going to keep paying Mai. Got a lot of work to do."
"And what did she think of your trauma bible?"
"She seemed a little alarmed by it, to be honest. But she said she'd read it."
They spoke on and off as they sat looking over the city, a rare moment of quiet for both of them. Half an hour later, they looked up at the sound of footsteps.
"There you are," said Clint as he strode up to their level, the setting sun casting him in an orange light. He slowed as he approached Maggie's chair, his keen eyes flicking over her. "You've been pushing us away, kid."
"I know," Maggie said, picking at a loose thread on her jeans. "I thought it would make it easier for me."
Clint put his hands on his hips. Tony watched them with a mix of bemusement and concern. "Did it?"
"No."
"Want to go have a training session?"
She looked up at him. "It's not your job to train me anymore."
"I know. Want to go anyway?"
"Yeah, okay."
Natasha was waiting for them in the gym a few levels down, in her workout clothes with her hands on her hips. There were a few Avengers staff in the gym who stared for a second, and then went about their business.
"Sorry," Maggie said to both of them, rubbing her elbow. "And thank you."
They both took a moment to consider her.
"No need to get all choked up," Nat eventually said with a hint of a smile.
"You did good today, Maggie," Clint said, nodding firmly. "Now who do you want to spar with first?"
She grinned.
It was good to move for the sake of moving again, not because of a mission. Like they had back in Maggie's early days at SHIELD, she sparred with Nat and Clint on and off, swinging and ducking, running through routines until they got the movements perfect. And to her sheer relief, the thud of blows glancing off her body and the adrenaline of combat did not send panic skittering up her spine.
Maggie even ended up on the gymnastics setup on the other side of the gym, practicing old forms on the trampoline and the balance beam, and picturing moves she might make in the air with her wings. Just before their stomachs started growling, she and Clint had a climbing race on the large structure made of ropes and poles in the far corner - she lost, but Nat's laugh as she dangled upside down from a rope while Clint shimmied up a pole beside her made it worth it.
Thor, when Maggie tracked him down the next day at a museum of all places, greeted her with a bone-cracking hug. After a low, solemn word about how it had taken him a millenia to confront the workings of his own mind, and how he admired her for reaching her realization so swiftly, things were back to about as normal as they could get, for Thor. Maggie was better rested, so they walked through the rest of the museum together. Thor took fifty six selfies with strangers.
Bruce let Maggie come to him when she was ready. When she did, he readily agreed to talk her through his strategies for calming himself. Then they got distracted when he showed her one of the HYDRA weapons they'd seized, and they spent several hours quantifying the chemically weaponised core.
Life in Avengers Tower became much easier now that Maggie didn't have to avoid the other Avengers. She chatted with them when they bumped into each other as they went about their business, went out to the city with Thor and Steve, sat and worked on her tablet in the common room while Natasha read foreign novels, watched movies with Clint and Tony. She spent more time in Bruce's lab to confront her panic reaction to the space, under Mai's guidance. Bruce talked her through how he used visualisation to control the ebb and flow of his own mind, and the monster within it.
Avoiding Barnes required a little concentration, but aside from a few close calls she managed it.
Until in mid May, Tony came to Maggie with a cautious look on his face. She'd just come back from a therapy session with Mai, and it had left her drained.
"What did you do," she said tiredly.
He paused. "How do you know I've done something?"
She gestured at him. "You get this look on your face when you're about to tell me bad news. Like someone's just lit a match at a gas station."
"Well…"
Maggie straightened. "Oh no, is it really bad? Is Pepper going to be mad?"
He winced. "No. Well, not really bad. I've, uh, been talking with Steve a bit more lately, and reviewing our security systems and, well, I think Barnes should be allowed free range of his residential floor and the common area by himself, as long as he's got the Manacles on. No escort necessary."
Maggie's hackles rose for a moment, but then she sighed. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't expected this. It made sense. But she did raise an eyebrow. "And you're okay with this?"
Tony shrugged. "I've come around to it. I think my main problem with it all was Steve, but I mean… it's clear he doesn't need to play babysitter anymore. I don't know if you've seen the footage, but all Barnes does is mope around looking gloomy and reading books. He hasn't bothered any of the others either, Bruce and Thor don't mind him and Nat and Clint are good at vanishing."
"Yeah," Maggie said distractedly. "And J.A.R.V.I.S. has made a pretty good chaperone so far."
"The best. We should take more prisoners."
She huffed a laugh and rubbed her forehead. "Definitely not. One is enough work."
"So that's a yes, then?" Tony clarified.
"Yes, fine, it's a yes."
The first time Bucky stepped out of his bedroom door alone, the hairs on the back of his neck rose and his joints locked up. He was tempted to dart back inside and lock the door, but Raynor had talked him through this moment.
"The common area is empty, Sergeant Barnes," came J.A.R.V.I.S.'s helpful voice.
Bucky nodded silently. He didn't doubt it; he'd chosen to wait until 4 AM for a reason. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. His suite door slid shut behind him.
It felt like taking a step off a ledge without knowing how far the fall might be. He drew in three long breaths and let them out, making a conscious effort to unclench his fists. The metal arm whirred a little louder than usual, and there was a half-second delay until the fist unclenched. That had been happening more often. He shook it off.
J.A.R.V.I.S. was there, and these few floors of the Tower were to be his home for the foreseeable future. He had to get used to walking them without fear.
Bucky Barnes set off to explore.
Maggie realized quickly that Barnes was keeping nocturnal hours to avoid running into anyone. She'd been worried he might start showing up to mealtimes, but he seemed just as keen to avoid most of them as they were to avoid him.
Still, Maggie got glimpses of him. She walked past the kitchen one evening to see him pacing the length of the room, talking to J.A.R.V.I.S. about the groceries he wanted to order in. She eyed him for a moment before walking on. Barnes seemed comfortable with J.A.R.V.I.S in a way that was strange to watch. She walked into the common room early one morning to see Barnes over by the window, looking out at the city. He had sensed her presence and turned, but she was gone before he could catch her eyes.
Another evening while she was reading in her room, Maggie's StarkTablet lit up with a security alarm: someone had tried to access her workshop without authorization. She instinctively stiffened, thinking of her wings and all her ongoing projects, until J.A.R.V.I.S. said:
"Apologies, Ms Stark. That was Sergeant Barnes. He was exploring the workshop level, but did not realize your workshop was locked and was only curious. He has already returned to his room."
Maggie frowned. "Footage?"
J.A.R.V.I.S. silently brought up the security feed for the corridor that connected hers and Tony's workshops. She watched as Barnes appeared at the bottom of the screen, dark hair pushed behind his ears as he wandered up the corridor, peering through the glass windows. He slowed as he passed her workshop, peering in at something, and then as he leaned in to look his hand brushed the touch pad by the door. Instantly the blaring alarm sounded and the lights overhead flashed red. Barnes's shoulders bunched and he hurried away, taking long strides.
Maggie closed down the footage. She did not speak to J.A.R.V.I.S. again.
Maggie liked the structure of going to therapy. She and Mai clicked well and their appointments became a weekly schedule. They discussed what had happened to Maggie over the week, and then broadened out to her ongoing progress.
Each week they set small, achievable goals for Maggie to build on what she had done the last week. One such example was the medical wing: Maggie started by bringing her work down to the corridor outside the med wing, since the doctor on call said she didn't mind Maggie sitting out there for a few hours. And when she came back a few days later to sit on the inside of the doors, despite her initial panic she knew she would be okay. Because she'd only moved six feet. The next week she'd worked up to handling the medical tools set up by the doctor's main desk, inspecting the thermometers and stethoscopes and syringes and the blood pressure machine, asking the patient doctor how they were used. When she went back the next week to get her blood pressure checked she surpassed her jangling nerves by reminding herself that it was okay, because she'd handled the blood pressure machine the week before.
Sometimes progress was exhilarating. More often, it was exhausting. As hard as Maggie worked, she still had triggers, and acknowledging and managing her panic response took so much of her energy that it shocked her. Some days she couldn't bear to be around other people - but she could be honest about that now, and none of the Avengers or Pepper minded.
Her epiphany had allowed her to open up once more. She and Pepper went out for weekly lunch dates, no matter how busy SI or the Avengers were, and she spent more time with the Avengers (it was difficult to get them all together at the same time, but she enjoyed their company individual or together when she could). She reached out to old friends from MIT, and set up a fortnightly video call with Darcy so she could say hi to Jane and Selvig as well.
But therapy was about more than routine and small goals. Every now and then, sessions with Mai delved much, much deeper into the sources of her fear: the car crash, the months in hospital, the years spent chasing a ghost. The good thing about Mai's NDAs was that Maggie could be completely honest about the Winter Soldier, who had gone from the horrifying phantom she'd spent her life chasing, to the mentally ill ghost she kept in a locked room upstairs.
They talked through it all, discovering new truths that Maggie had been avoiding, and coming to understand just why she had fallen apart these past few months. During one appointment, in the downstairs office with the hot sun shining through the window, Maggie told Mai about her mission.
"Your mission?" Mai questioned, leaning on the arm of her chair with her ankles crossed beneath her.
"I've always had it. I based my whole life around finding and killing my parents' murderer," she said frankly. "That was my mission. I had other stuff going on, sure, but that was at the heart of me. And I don't have that anymore."
Mai nodded slowly, listening.
"And maybe that won't ever go away. I think that's why I've been struggling, because I'm always going to have that mission deep inside of me," Maggie thought aloud. She drew in a long breath. "But maybe I can… maybe it can mean something else."
"What will your mission be, then?"
She thought about it, leaning back on the low couch and looking down at her interlaced fingers. "I think… I think I need to learn how to be a person. Like a person who can be happy, and successful and not, y'know, focused on murder."
"That certainly sounds like a good start," Mai smiled.
"And fuck it," Maggie added with a glance upward. "I'm going to make sure that hundred year old bastard actually survives all this. As another fuck you to HYDRA."
Mai's brows rose, though she was more than used to Maggie swearing by now. "That's generous of you, Maggie. But remember, it's important to focus on your own health first and foremost-"
"I know," Maggie nodded. "Trust me, I'm putting myself first. But I dragged him into this, and I'll be damned if HYDRA gets what they want."
Mai smiled again. "So," she said after a few moments. "Learning to be a person."
"Yes." Maggie leaned forward with her hands pressed between her knees. "How do I do that?"
The Avengers went on their first mission without her. They'd had reports of a possibly HYDRA-linked attack on a medical facility in the Caribbean, and had gone down to investigate. Maggie was still benched for field work, but she worked in the operations room with the other Avengers analysts, with a headset and access to local CCTV and the locations of each Avengers member as a green dot on her screen. She monitored the area and called out suggestions and warnings as the Avengers cased the scene.
Maggie found that she quite enjoyed being the woman in the chair. But she missed flying.
She talked the mission through with Mai once it was over, and then she, Tony, and Rhodey went out to the practically empty Stark Industries property upstate to fly together. Tony told Steve they were going up to run a 'coordinated flight training session', but it was mostly them messing about in the sky for a couple of hours. Tony gave Maggie the same old taunts about her flimsy uniform, and she accused them both of being too clumsy in their metal cans. Rhodey told them about all the missions the Air Force had sent him on, and when he told them to wait on the top of the SI warehouse and watch a series of maneuvers he'd been working on, Maggie and Tony sat down and mostly ignored War Machine rocketing through the sky.
"How do you do it?" Maggie asked Tony as she leaned back on the heels of her hands, flushed and windswept from the flying. He looked over at her with a frown. "How do you go out and fight, knowing your own mind could betray you at any second?"
Tony nodded, thinking about it seriously. War Machine swooped down low through the sky, gleaming silver, and his slipstream ruffled Maggie's hair.
Tony leaned back on his hands as well, making the armor whir. "At first it was because I had to fight - on the Norco, to save you and Pepper. And after that… it took time. But with therapy, and talking with Pepper, I realized that being Iron Man wasn't something I had to do, out of some fear that something would go wrong if I didn't. It was something I was good at, and it helped people. And if I'm completely honest, because it's fun."
Maggie smiled.
"Not the whole people-in-danger thing," he amended. "But it's like you said. You love flying."
"Yeah," she murmured. She let out a long breath and eyed the edge of her wing, tucked up against her back. "You're good at being Iron Man, Tony."
"And you're good at being the Wyvern," he replied easily.
And I'm always an Avenger, she thought, thinking of Steve. And on that rooftop, sitting with her brother as Rhodey wheeled and looped overhead, she realized that the Wyvern wasn't the product of a mission, or some quest for revenge. The Wyvern was just her.
Next up… more from Bucky!
Reviews
DBZFAN45: Explosive and introspective indeed! Bucky has been getting better but Maggie has been getting worse, and it's been interesting to play them off against each other like that. Tony and Steve definitely needed to punch out their feelings a bit, they're both kinda impulsive so it was bound to happen at some point. Hope you enjoyed the fallout of last chapter's panic attack! And I hope you had a lovely week :)
Themugglepadme24: You should know by now I love my cliffhangers haha, but I'm glad you liked the chapter! Bucky being out of his cell is definitely going to shake things up a bit ;)
Nina: You make an excellent point, though at this point I think it is less Bucky's presence and more her own trauma that Maggie is struggling with. And yeah, Tony and Steve just needed to punch it out to work out their feelings lmao. Thank you for your lovely reviews!
Eennio: Thank you so much for your kind words, that means a lot! I'm glad you liked the Wyvern and the Siren :)
shorttrooper: I definitely get being excited about Maggie reaching a point where she can't hide her panic anymore! Now it's rebuilding time. I am thrilled to be writing more from Bucky's POV! Thank you for your lovely review :)
Aqua: I feel like Steve can do very little when it comes to strong women so Raynor just steamrolled him and was like 'take me to Maggie right now'. He would be no help at all if Nat and Maggie got in a fight. I'm glad you're enjoying the buildup with Maggie's downward turn, hopefully you enjoyed the resolution (or beginning of a resolution) this chapter! If you enjoy Bucky pottering about the Tower, you'll like next chapter a lot ;) Many more 'coffee machine' moments to come.
Also interesting that you pointed out the differences in how Bucky reacts to Maggie and Tony - I think he feels a lot more guilt when it comes to Maggie, because they've got that past of the car crash, whereas Bucky met Tony for the first time when he busted into his cell like 'describe my parents murders!' so it's just different energies for both of them. And you are definitely psychic with Steve and Tony's blowout, they're chill now but there was definitely a lot going under the surface for them.
I'm glad you've had a more or less good week! I have had a pretty good week, the heat wave has been nightmarish though.