Hey, everyone! I'm back, and this might be the shortest time between uploads...this is a little spooky for me. Also, I feel kinda blue since only one person gave a review; that of long time reader Vanessa Masters! You, my lovely friend, are awesome-sauce! Getting back to it, let's get on with the story! But first, a disclaimer: The Management of Chaotic Inc. wishes to advise readers that this chapter contains character death, so tissues and comfort food on hand is highly recommended.

Wow, haven't done one of those in years. I wonder how Briar will take the news about one of her friends kicking the bucket? Let's find out, shall we?

Ultron 5

Have you ever heard the expression 'you'll never know how hard a problem is until you face it', or something along those lines? Well, I've got another one for the books: you'll never know how hard it is to sneak around when there's a bunch of spies after you, especially when those spies happen to be S.H.I.E.L.D agents, who are pretty much the best that the world has to offer.

Apparently Maria wasn't kidding about having the Avengers turning themselves over to become one of SHIELD's assets. In fact she was becoming down right determined—if having Tony Stark's sister followed everywhere has somehow become the new definition of determined. What sort of leverage she hopes to get from me, I don't want to know—sentiments shared by my brother and my boyfriend, nor were they inclined to find out.

So now I'm stuck playing a dangerous game of hide and seek from the sort of people you'd rather be friends with, or at least on their good side.

The hiding part wasn't all that hard: since I still had stitches above my knee, that pretty much meant that I wasn't going anywhere that wasn't Smother Hen-approved. Heh-heh-heh, Clint nearly had an accident when I coined up Tony's new nickname—it's even gotten to the point where everyone on the team was calling him that too. But Tony just took it on the chin, because he knows that I know that he's worried about whatever Hill might do if she ever got a hold of me. Going back to the nickname thing, I think I might have (finally) weirded Clint out enough to make him stop insinuating things about T'Challa and me, mostly because I let slip something I will quite probably never live down. That something being a pet name I just happened to randomly pull off the top of my head: huggable kitten noddle.

Yes, I can hear the universe crying out in dismay…or in sheer rib-busting laughter, either one. Regardless, it was out now—I almost started digging a hole to hide in once those words went tumbling out, only for T'Challa to find out and get me back. Oh, boy, did he get me back?

So far it either been Lovely Petal (I'm always tempted to call the Corny Police on his butt for that one) or Seductive Flower Goddess…yeah, that last one? I really don't mind all that much.

The moment was made somewhat awkward when Wasp cooed in delight and declared that T'Challa and I were at the 'pet name' stage of our relationship—a sort of milestone, I'm guessing. Well, mostly it surprised me a little: T'Challa and I have been a couple for just about three months now, and we've hit a 'special' moment, but it…feels like nothing special has actually happened. Is that bad?

Before my head imploded with confusion, the ever insightful Chantè thumped my shoulder and pretty much ordered me to not worry about something so trivial—as she hoped for, I ended up not worrying about it. Sure, it was a milestone but I shouldn't fuss about it, it's just another day in our lives. Besides, I'm saving my 'must worry now' cards for annual events like birthdays, Christmas and New Year's Eve.

Oh yeah, in order to prevent Hill from sending any of her lackeys after me, T'Challa called for reinforcements—mostly in the form of Chantè plus a few other Dora Milaje. True, they were solely the king's bodyguards, but the lovely ladies didn't mind looking after me. They liked that I wasn't a conventional type of woman, and would be more at home reading a thick book than going out clubbing in awful clothing. There was also a rumor going on that they wanted to make me an honorary Dora Milaje, but I was so relieved when it turned out to be false.

"Pity, you would make an excellent addition." Chantè pouted slightly. That look at hers wasn't helping us at the moment; the pair of us and Voltaire is currently out in public, and Chantè was attracting quite a bit of male attention already. Not that she looked bad, I mean.

The reason the three of us were out in 'dangerous territory' was two-fold. The first was my new bodyguards wanted to examine just how good these S.H.I.E.L.D tails were, and what it would take to throw them off my scent (so to speak). So while Chantè and Voltaire were glued to my side every time I went outside, a few of the more experienced ladies were blending in with the crowd around us, keeping an eye on me and on the S.H.I.E.L.D agents. If I made it through this little experiment with my sanity intact, it'll be a miracle.

The second reason I was out and about was because Dr. Reed Richards—aka Mr. Fantastic—asked a seriously big favor off me: he as the rest of the Fantastic Four were heading off somewhere (he can be really secretive when he wants to be, the annoying stretchy-panted man), and asked if I could keep an eye on the still comatose Princess Ravonnah till they got back. And stupidly, I agreed.

Normally I'd have taken a car to the Baxter Building, but as part of the experiment, both Tony's driver and a few of the embassy chauffeurs were sent out as decoys, which meant I had to walk from a safe place to a potentially dangerous place, with a mega dog and a bodyguard. Somehow, the decoys felt excessive, only because everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D knew by now what Voltaire looked like, and that he was mine. Plus, there weren't any giant white dogs that a small child could ride like a pony. And Chantè…I don't know where to start.

To her credit, Chantè did her best to blend in like an American, even dressing as some of us do—the only problem was that, objectively speaking, Chantè is a very beautiful girl with attractive figure, and her choice of clothing emphasized her figure rather than blend her into the surroundings. Mind you, an emerald green tube-top, a white button-down shirt that was left open, and shorts that just about showed off more than should be allowed would make any girl stand out. As for me, I went for a plain short-sleeved blouse and Capri pants: very plain…and very boring.

"Remind me to go clothes shopping after this," I asked of Chantè, barely paying attention as we finally entered the Baxter building. "I think I need to update my wardrobe."

"No point, really," She commented as she eyed my outfit, "There is only a month or so of summer left, then it will begin to get cold." Dang it, she had a point.

"In that case, how about we go winter shopping?" I offered hopefully as the three of us stepped into the elevator. She was just about to answer when a hand shot between the closing doors, making them open again to admit a last minute addition…actually, make that additions, plural: Clay Quartermaine and Jimmy Wu. CRAP!

"Hey, Briar," Jimmy greeted warmly as he and Clay fully got into the elevator, the doors closing behind them, allowing the box to carrying on its journey upwards.

"Hi." That was pretty much all I could manage at the moment. Chantè gave me a very subtle look, immediately getting the point that we might be in some serious trouble right about now.

: T'Challa is so going to be pissed later! : I mentally gulped, watching the light flicker between floor numbers, trying not to let my nerves get the better of me, and slowly failing. Voltaire thankfully kept their attention by being his usual puppy self; demanding pats and affection from two new potential friends.

"So this is the big bad beast I've been hearing about." Jimmy commented as he gave Voltaire a double handed fur rub.

"Yeah, that's Voltaire." Clay chuckled. Then came along the crazy part—not bad or anything, just very…what the hell was going on here. Jimmy Wu, the tough seasoned S.H.I.E.L.D agent...started to baby-talk at my dog, cupping my poor dog's face between his hands and made gushy faces.

Yes: very…what…the…hell.

Chantè and I looked at each other, our faces matching the same perplexed (and quite honestly freaked out) expression, while Clay just face-palmed himself with a loud groan of dismay.

"What? What's with the faces?" Jimmy demanded from us in his normal voice, expertly moving his head to avoid Voltaire licking his mouth. "He's adorable!"

: Okay, T'Challa is either going to be pissed, or he'll die laughing. : I thought to myself, making an almost Herculean effort to keep myself from cringing as Jimmy went back to making baby-talk to my dog. Please, somebody out there or even in here, make him stop.

Chantè watched him for a few more minutes before looking at me in her most dead-panned expression. I could just about predict her next sentence, but all I could do is shrug helplessly in response. When I looked over at Quartermaine, he was giving Jimmy how own annoyed expression before sighing heavily.

"Okay, let's cut to the chase, shall we?" He finally spoke, to the relief of everyone else—maybe.

"Is this the part where you ask Briar to join S.H.I.E.L.D?" Chantè questioned, her curious tone belying that she was really suspicious, folding her arms over her chest and looking at him with an expression that dared him to try.

"Pretty much," Clay nodded in agreement, causing the bottom of my stomach to drop about 20 feet. Well played, Hill: sending my only two friends in S.H.I.E.L.D to try and recruit me into her fold, and at a point where I was damn near vulnerable too.

"Well," I inhaled slowly, gathering my wits for the approaching storm. "Sorry, guys, but I'm not joining S.H.I.E.L.D, or leaving the Avengers."

"Okay." Clay shrugged…and that was it. No 'pep talk', no persuading, or pleadingly, or even demanding?

"Come again?" Chantè asked in a bewildered tone that matched how I was feeling right now. Clay chuckled at our expressions just as the elevator went DING and stopped at the Fantastic Four's quarters.

"Did yah really expect us to try an' recruit yah into S.H.I.E.L.D?" he questioned as all five of us got off, "For real?"

"We know you too well, Briar." Jimmy interjected, finally finished making a fool of himself with Voltaire. "After what happened with Project Spindle Thorn, the last thing you'd want to do is make any more potentially dangerous experiments." Huh.

"Plus, you'd make a terrible spy." He added cheekily. Hey! Before I could get the chance to retaliate (and defend my pride), Quartermaine got a word in to stop me in my tracks.

"In any case, as intelligent as yah are an' quite the valuable asset yah could be, S.H.I.E.L.D ain't stupid enough to mess with yah." Clay interjected, "Especially now that yer dating the king of Wakanda." At that I raised a curious eyebrow at him. What did he mean by that, exactly?

"B, I think you're forgetting just how powerful your boyfriend is," Jimmy hinted at, "Your man is the leader of a ridiculously powerful nation—its technology is only something S.H.I.E.L.D can drool over, not to mention its superior military might."

"Mm, true," Chantè reluctantly admitted, "The Wakandan army is regarded as the most elite in the world, easily out-pacing the other armies of the world."

"An' it doesn't make S.H.I.E.L.D feel any easier, especially when yah add that Wakanda is the only self-sustaining country in the world." Clay rounded up, "They know that not only can they beat the pants off any army that tries to fight them, the Wakandan army can also survive the economical fall-out."

It never really occurred to me before, but now the full weight of what they said hit me, making me feel weak at the knees.

My boyfriend—the man I love so much—was the king of a nation that everyone in the world could only dream of. The fact that Wakanda had no rival in terms of technological, economical or military might sent a rather unpleasant thought through my head: if S.H.I.E.L.D, or rather Hill, was stupid enough to push me into joining, they'd might as well be declaring war against not just the Avengers, but the Black Panther and the entire might of the Wakandan nation.

"Ugh, I think I'm gonna hurl." I groaned, my knees starting to buckle underneath me.

I don't know who caught me before I hit the floor, but I was grateful when they lowered me into a nearby chair, whilst another person kindly placed an empty bin in front of me in case I did lose my cookies.

"I guess I shouldn't have brought the whole 'you're boyfriend is super crazy powerful' thing, huh?" I heard Jimmy comment to the others, resulting in a double 'ya think?' response from the both of them.

: Why, oh, why did I think that dating T'Challa was going to be 'normal'? : I asked myself, rubbing at my new aching temples. I mean, yes, dating any king—or royal personage—is bound to come with a few certain problems, but then again there was no other king like T'Challa and he—

"Er, B? Sorry to cut into your…whatever you're doing right now, but could you tell your dog not to attack us please?" Jimmy asked in a very nervous sounding tone. When I pulled myself into focus, I understood why he and the others were now suddenly afraid of my fur baby: Voltaire sounded and looked more terrifying than a rabid Cujo, with his ears flat against his head, his lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal sharp and deadly fangs, and his gentle blue eyes were now icy cold with anger.

But it wasn't because I was upset, or by what they said.

"That's not his 'mummy is upset, must hurt the person responsible' growl," I slowly rose form my chair, my entire body on high alert, "That's his 'something bad is coming this way, people are in danger' growl." And whatever it is must be a very big threat.

With that happy bit of knowledge, everyone else went on their guard, eyes darting everywhere looking for whatever it was that had Voltaire on edge. It was nerve-wracking enough, waiting for the inevitable attack, but what really made it worse was that I was pretty much a liability with my banged up leg. As soon as the fighting starts, I'll have to find a safe place to hide.

I really, really hate being injured and useless.

"Briar," I could've killed Chantè for scaring me like that. "Is there someplace you can hide till the threat has passed?" In this place, I really didn't know where, unless I somehow managed to get to Prison 42.

Then, without warning, came an all too familiar roar…which was either a good thing or a bad thing.

"Please tell me that was the Hulk?" Jimmy asked any of us. We didn't need to answer as the floor beneath our feet burst open with a shower of dust and debris.

With crazy fast reflexes, Chantè grabbed me in a bear-hug and hauled me behind a computer console and shielded my body with hers. I couldn't see if the others made it to safety or not, but I could certainly hear the Hulk having a grand ol' time fighting…was that…was that a flipping gorilla I can hear?!

As I tried to figure out why a gorilla was here, of all places, when a large mass flew over the top of our heads, landing with quite the heavy—and painfully—sounding thud. How the hell did that orangutan get up here?!

: PETA is going to have a field day if this gets out! : The thought of having to fend off animal activists filled me with as much dread as the current battle erupting around us, which was now getting into full swing.

Before I could ask Chantè what happens now, I saw another mass fly over our heads and land before us. My bodyguard tensed up, ready for a fight of some sort but relaxed slightly after recognizing who is was.

"I am glad that you could join us, Your Majesty." She remarked dryly, "How did you learn about the attack?"

"By pure chance, as it happens." He answered as he pressed his back against the console, "Rose is too vulnerable here; the two of you will get to safety—I will cover you." A body slid past us—Clay with his gun drawn as he scrambled to join us behind cover.

"For the record, Ah did not plan on bein' attacked today!" He huffed as he reloaded his energy gun—the sort that was capable of stunning opponents—and looked at the three of us. "Are we havin' a picnic here or we plannin' to get Briar ta safety?"

"I'm all for breathing, but that's just me!" I quipped at loud from beneath Chantè. Thankfully getting the hint, my bodyguard loosened her grip enough for me to breathe more easily. I tilted my head to ask T'Challa my chances of getting to Prison 42, and what was going on here, but he was busy looking at Clay in a hard gaze.

"What do you mean by 'we'?" T'Challa inquired in a deceptively neutral tone. Now was so not the time for the dangerously over-protective boyfriend! Clay also understood what T'Challa really meant and sent an annoyed look back.

"Just because Agent Wu an' I are a part of S.H.I.E.L.D, it doesn't automatically mean we're here to recruit Briar to our side." Clay spoke in defense of himself and Jimmy, though some of what he said was drowned out by the Hulk unleashing a might roar.

"You two may not think so, but what of your director?" T'Challa asked pointedly, "She had already demonstrated the lengths she will go to discomfort my girlfriend. How long before she decides 'enough is enough' and kidnaps my Rose?" EX-cuse me?! Since when did become somebody's property?!

While those two were having their argument, I just happened to glance to the side and see a very distressing sight: Voltaire was taking on a baboon—and doing quite well for himself. No, the distressing part was that they were dangerously close to the defenseless Princess Ravonnah. If her stasis tank gets damaged, she'll die! And these two idiots don't seem to realize the danger—they were still arguing about me! SERIOUSLY?!

Finally fed up with the both of them—and slightly annoyed at Chantè for not pulling the both of them up by the ears—I tore myself from the safety of the console and human shield and started sprinting to where the princess needed help. From behind me, I could hear three separate voices protesting my actions, but they were cut short when the Hulk flew through the wall.

How the gorilla managed to throw the Hulk remains a mystery, all I know is that while the Hulk didn't go all the way through the wall, he would've collected me along the way and I would certainly have gone SPLAT.

I say 'would have' because before the Hulk could hit me, I felt something hit my stomach and I was pulled out of the danger path and into an awaiting pair of arms.

"Well, that was a little close for comfort, wouldn't you say?" A new voice quipped playfully from above my head as whoever it was helped me to hide behind another console. Once my bearings were back to normal, I lifted my head—and nearly head-butted a red-masked person.

Before I got the chance to thank my new friend, Voltaire and his baboon opponent scrapped a little too close for comfort—for both me and Princess Ravonnah.

"Think you can wrap this us without causing any more damage?" I asked my companion, keeping low as I crawled to beside the stasis container and carefully examined the readings. All normal—thanks Heavens! I didn't hear the response, but when I turned around—the gorilla, the orangutan and the baboon plus a human in a red jumpsuit were all knocked out cold and tied up in…spider webs?

As the good guys came out of hiding, a body landed before me—my new savior. Once he stood up straight, he held his arms out like he was presenting a gift and playfully chirped out "Ta-da! Four 'wrapped' bad guys."

Despite myself, I laughed softly at his joke. Now that the fight was over, I could get a better look at whoever it was that just saved my rear end, and I have to say I was surprised: it was the one and only Spider Man, the web-slinging hero and bane of Jonah J. Jameson's life.

"Nice work, Spider Man." I praised him, "That was fast."

"Aw, shucks—was nothing!" He replied bashfully, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. The others crawled out of their hiding holes, and I didn't even need to look in Panther's direction to know that he was very unhappy at my close call. Well, I wasn't all that tickled at being treated like I was property or a completely invalid person, so that makes us even. Voltaire at least seemed happy to make another new friend, and plated both of his front paws onto Spider Man's shoulder and licked the poor guy's face with an extra sloppy tongue, not paying any mind to his poor victim's protests or hints to get off.

"So what brought you here, Spider Man?" I asked, putting my hand against Voltaire's back in a silent command to give our new friend some space to breath.

"Well, I was just swinging along when I saw the Hulk and Black Panther running towards this place." The young hero explained, and dragged his hands down his face to get rid of any leftover dog slobber. "I didn't expect on an exuberant puppy, though."

"Sorry about him; Voltaire gets excited about meeting new friends." I apologized, "But hey! At least he wasn't trying to eat you—then you'd be in real trouble there." As Spider Man pondered over the meaning of my words, I turned to face three unhappy faces—well, two unhappy men and an exasperated Chantè. For the most part, all my bodyguard/friend did was roll her eyes and sigh with a slight pout and smile, but at least she knew better than to try something silly and argue with me.

Unlike these two idiots walking towards me

As if sensing the impending maelstrom, Jimmy, Chantè and the Hulk stepped away, the green giant going so far as to pick Spider Man up by his waist to get him out of the potential disaster zone. The only one left by my side was Voltaire, though I'm not sure what he'll do in terms of helping T'Challa and Quartermaine get out unscathed.

"So nice of you boys to finally stop bickering like old ladies," I commented in a light tone even as I folded my arms over my chest and my face morphing into The Look. If Tony were here, he'd immediately recognize the warning signs and try a different method of making me see his point (or beg for forgiveness). Quartermaine saw the gesture, and started to look hesitant. Unfortunately, T'Challa chose the method of the stubborn, raging bull and went charging head long.

"You could have been killed, Rose!" He exploded in anger, "If it had not been for Spider Man catching you in time…what in Heavens name were you thinking, charging off like that?!"

"Well, at least I was trying to do something constructive, unlike you!" I snapped back, "All you did was argue with Quartermaine!"

"I was trying to get you out to safety, and I did not—"

"So why didn't you just ask me to get out? I could've managed that on my own! Hell, I could've gotten to Prison 42 if it got bad out here!"

"To a place swarming with other S.H.I.E.L.D agents, that possibly have orders to take you in?! And even if they did not have such instructions, what if you could not move on your own?" He countered in a near snarl, "What plan did you have in the event that our enemy went after you?" By now my emotions were reaching their peak, and starting to get the better of me, but I'll be damned before I start crying now!

"Well if you hadn't of taken your sweet la-de-da'ing friggin' time arguing with someone who's trying to help, then maybe we could've made a plan!" I yelled at T'Challa, "Instead you planned around me like my opinion didn't even register in that thick-skulled brain of yours!" T'Challa reeled back a little as my words pounded into said thick skull, but it was way too late for him to try and save his backside.

"Of course it matters! Why would—"

"Then stop treating me like I'm your damn property and treat me like your girlfriend!" Ah, crud, here comes the water works.

Determined not to let anyone else see me breakdown into a complete wreck, I pivoted on my heels and paced angrily to the emergency staircase—Voltaire had clearly thought ahead and got the door opened, and quietly feel in behind me as I started down the stairs, the door shutting itself closed behind us.

I didn't know—or understand—why I exploded like that, or at T'Challa. Maybe because, after so long of being the weak little damsel, I finally got to do something—be a part of something that meant something, but thanks to my bunged up leg I was back right where I started, and any leftover feelings of being helpless reared its ugly head with a vengeance.

A darker thought brought me back to what Jimmy had said earlier, about how T'Challa would react if S.H.I.E.L.D ever did get their hands on me. I didn't want that sort of thing crushing me down—the knowledge of thousands of people getting hurt in retaliation of me being hurt. Not to mention the knowledge of being so vital to another person(s) that I became leverage in a situation that could potentially led to war scared the absolute Hell out of me.

: Maybe I shouldn't be dating T'Challa is stuff like this is going to be considered normal? :

######

It took a long time for Voltaire and me to reach the ground floor and get outside again. During that time, two things happened. The first thing was that I had time to get myself into a normal mindset again—and realized that I acted like a complete and utter twatmuffin in regards to the whole thing. The second thing that happened—to my surprise—was Spider Man beating me to the exit, and so generously waited for me to arrive.

"I kinda figured you could do with some non-Avenger-or-S.H.I.E.L.D-company for a while." He kindly offered when I sent him a questioning look. As much as walking home alone with just Voltaire to keep me company sounded like a tempting idea, I think having a fresh face and personality around wasn't such a bad idea. Mind you, the dark little voice in the back of my mind was warning me that Spider Man was probably only here because somebody had asked him to watch over me. Normally, I'd be a little miffed about being planned around—again—but by now I was completely emotionally drained to the point of not caring anymore.

"As long as you're not expecting a scintillating conversation, I could do with some fresh company." I responded.

"If the argument from earlier is anything to go by?" He asked in a flippant way, only to then realize he may have put his foot in his mouth. "Uh, I—I mean…"

"Don't sweat it." I shrugged and started to walk back to Avengers Mansion, my silent yet ever faithful canine falling into step beside me. It took him a few steps before Spider Man snapped out of his state and followed me.

"I'm really, really sorry about that." He apologized profusely, "I just mean that—"

"That seeing me yelling at my boyfriend, you figured I could do with some silent company?" I finished for him. When he awkwardly agreed with my assessment, I just hummed a non-committed grunt and tucked my hands into my pockets.

We walked the next ten minutes in complete silence, though there was a moment or two when Spider Man was gearing himself up to talk about a random subject, but chickened out at the last second. There weren't all that many people on the street for some reason, and the people that were there and wanted to talk to Spider Man and me were sent packing by Voltaire leveling a glare and silent snarl at them. The fact that nobody was going to see what happens next made me feel only the slightest bit well.

"You can ask about what happened, you know." I told my conflicted friend.

"Are you sure?" He questioned softly, "It sounded like you were…well."

"I'd like to think that I severely overreacted about the whole thing, and have acted like a complete idiot for yelling at my boyfriend for an utterly trivial thing for no good reason." I helpfully supplied, wondering if he would agree with me at all.

"Well…maybe, yeah." He reluctantly nodded, "But as for that whole 'trivial thing for no good reason' thing? I don't know—maybe you did have a reason. Something about it just seemed off." Hmm…perceptive little arachnid, isn't he?

The question is, though, did I trust him enough to reveal what's really bothering me about this whole thing?

"You don't have to give me details," He piped up comfortingly, "But it kinda seems like the both of you haven't been fair on each other." I paused at his words, making both him and Voltaire stop as well.

"How do you figure that?" I inquired. Seriously, how'd he do that?

"It's kinda obvious that you want to more, to help other people more than yourself. So when you got injured, maybe you started to resent that you get hurt a lot more easily than others." He observed at length. As much as I wanted to protest about resentful, I grudgingly had to admit that he was right: I hated how much the others could take before falling—even Wasp takes more hits that I do—while I bruised or caved too easily.

Even all the stuff I did in Wakanda—I could start, but someone else hat to step in before I had my head taken off. Bottom line, it sucked being the weakest of the Avengers.

"You have a point," I mumbled slightly, then looked up at Spider Man's masked face, "But how do you reckon the Black Panther into all of this?"

"Not all that hard, really," He shrugged, "He cares so much about you that he'd rather you weren't involved in Avengers business—it kinda points to him having lost someone close already." If that wasn't a smack to the face, then realizing that T'Challa was worried he'd lose me like he lost his father was a nuclear-powered jack hammer into my skull.

God, how stupid can I be?! Why do I keep forgetting that T'Challa has been through so much hurt than I ever have? Some girlfriend I am.

My thoughts must have shown on my face. I felt rather that saw Spider Man slid his fingers under my chin to lift my head up to see him as he moved his hands onto my shoulders. "But he isn't being fair on you by acting so protective." He continued, "As much as it hurts—you and him and anyone else—sometimes we need to go through the really bad times in order for our real potential to come out, and make us a better person."

"Meaning all that any of us can do is be there when the others falls? And staying by their side when they finally decide to step up on their own?" I questioned.

"Pretty much," He agreed as he pulled his hands away.

…Hmm, such surprising wisdom coming from someone so young.

"I guess you have a point." I finally admitted and smiled slightly, "Thanks, Spider Man. That's helped me a lot."

"Hey, just being your friendly neighborhood Spider Man!" he declared, planting his fists on his hips and posing dramatically. "Dispensing justice and advice to those in need," I laughed softly—the first in a while—and offered my hand to the other hero.

"Well, if the 'friendly neighborhood hero' ever needs help, I'll be the first to answer." I promised him. Even though the mask was obscuring his face, I spied the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile as he grasped my hand in his and shook it.

"Same to you," He promised as well as we let go, "Whelp, I'd better get going—I promised to help my aunt around the house."

"Fair enough," I nodded, stepping back a little as Voltaire came forward to say goodbye to his new friend.

"And you, big guy: be a good boy for your friends ok?" Spider Man ordered in a friendly tone as he patted the large dog between his ears. Voltaire gave a small yip followed by a toothy grin, making the costumed hero laugh. We said one last good-bye to each other before he began to 'web sling' away, leaving Voltaire and I to walk home by ourselves…even though we were already out the front of the mansion gates.

"Huh," I huffed slightly, "Well, if being a superhero doesn't work out, he'd be one hell of a motivational speaker or counselor." The mental image made me snicker a little as the gates opened for us and we walked into the Mansion.

It was quiet inside—everyone must still be out doing things. My question of what to do now was decided for me when Voltaire gave a soft whimper and poked his nose into the side of my knee. Looking down revealed a few small drops of blood seeping through the bandage on my leg. Damn—a stitch or two must have come loose. Making my way down into the sub-levels, and towards the medical labs, I hoped it wasn't as bad as I thought (who am I kidding, of course it is) when I bumped into another person: turned out to be an even more distracted Ant Man.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Briar—I didn't see you there." Hank apologized as he held my shoulder to keep me balanced and upright.

"That's ok, Hank." I assured him, offering a smile his way. He tried to return it, but it seemed like something awfully heavy was weighing on his mind.

Before I could ask him what was wrong, Hank just happened to look down—maybe at the furry head pushing against him—when he saw the small blood stain on my bandage and began to look genuinely concerned.

"Oh, my—your leg: are you ok, Briar?" He fretted, looking into my face for some sign of distress that I might be trying to hide.

"I was on my way to the medical wing when I bumped into you." I admitted, "It doesn't hurt outside of a tingle and a sting when I bend my knee, but I wanted to make sure." Giving me a look or minor exasperation, Hank gently put his hand on the small of my back and walked beside me to our new destination. Once inside, Hank placed his hands on my waist and easily lifted me onto the exam table before carefully taking the bandage off my leg to examine the damage. As he did so, so also came along the inevitable wave of questions.

"How did you do this? Whatever happened today, I mean." He inquired, "I only cleared you for walking, not anything extreme."

"It's a bit of a story." I replied as I leaned back on my hands, "You know how Mr. Fantastic asked me to watch over the Princess while he and the other Fantastic Four were out?"

"Yes," He answered slowly, in a tone that clearly said—in bright neon lights—that he didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Well, when I got there, so did some old man in a red suit and variety or primates. Thankfully, Hulk and Black Panther showed up, plus another superhero, so there wasn't much damage to the building...okay, no damage to the containment tank or the princess herself, but there may be a broken thing or two in Reed's lab."

Hearing that no damage had come to the afflicted princess caused Hank to heave a sigh of relief then turned serious when the bandage was finally gone and the new damage was revealed. Well...it wasn't as bad as I thought (maybe feared a little) but it did still present us with some concerns. No stitches had been torn, but it was crystal clear that there had been some serious tugging at the surrounding skin-hence the little bit of blood.

Hank made the decision to take the stitches out (didn't that tickle and a half?), clean the area thoroughly (oh, yeah, that definitely hurt a lot!) and use butterfly plasters to keep the large wound together. All through the procedure he kept the questions flowing in an effort to keep me distracted.

"That doesn't explain how you got hurt like this." He asserted in a gentle tone, "If I know T'Challa, he wouldn't have let you fight with an injury."

"You're not kidding there." I half grumbled. Hank paused long enough to make me look back at him, and then with a sigh spill everything that happened today: from Quartermaine and Wu showing up to promise they wouldn't dare recruit me into S.H.I.E.L.D; to the attack while T'Challa and Quartermaine fighting over me about my safety—hence why I did what I did—before finishing off with Spider Man's appearance and the walk-and-talk back here.

To give him credit, Hank didn't interrupt me once as I spoke. Aside from a look or two and a nod or three, he didn't say a word until I had finished, appearing quite thoughtful as he carefully applied the strips to my leg.

Now that I was back into those memories, I winced at how callous I acted to T'Challa, and promised that if he doesn't decide to break up with me, I had some serious grovelling to do for the rest of my life.

"You mentioned something about Quartermaine and Wu reminding you about someone." He finally spoke as he finished his work with a fresh, clean bandage, "What did you mean by that?"

"Oh, that stuff." I sighed heavily, "Well, they kinda pointed out just how powerful an opponent T'Challa and the rest of Wakanda could be if something bad happened to me and…I guess I started freaking out about who I was really dating—T'Challa or the king of Wakanda."

Hank did look like he was going to put in his two-cents, but wisely closed his mouth.

"It probably didn't help matters that he was arguing with Quartermaine about me, instead of working with him to get me out of the danger zone safely." I added, "Plus I…I did something incredibly mind-blowing-ly stupid, and said that he was treating me like an inanimate possession rather than his girlfriend."

"Ouch," The doctor winced as he stood up, "Well…I could tell you that you're in the wrong as much as T'Challa is, but I think you've beaten yourself enough." Smart man.

"But I think you should apologize to him when the earliest chance arrives, and have a serious talk about everything. If T'Challa loves you as much as we think he does, he values your thoughts more than you give him credit for. He at least needs to know that you feel concerned about these sorts of things." Smart arse.

"Yeah, you're probably right." I grumbled, determined to deal with the whole thing later and talk about anything else right now. "What about you? You looked down in the dumps earlier. Something eating at you?" Hank gave a startled look at me before his shoulders slumped and looking away. Ooh, this looks bad.

"I…I quit the Avengers." He confessed softly, looking at anything else but me. Why, I wasn't clear on. Sure it's a shock, but not a complete surprise: he's a scientist that likes helping others (bad guys included) to become better people. Fighting super-villains didn't seem like the ideal place to be for someone like him.

"The others haven't taken your decision all that good?" I softly inquired, sitting forward to lay my hands in my lap.

"Some did." He answered, "I think Iron Man understands why, but Janet…" And there's the root of it all.

It was obvious that those loved each other, but it was also an obvious case of oil trying to mix with water—they were just too different. Janet probably saw that, and tried to make Hank like the things she loves doing, namely hitting bad guys, but it just didn't work. Honestly, I had to wonder what kept these two as friends for so long before trying to be something more, but those thoughts I kept to myself.

"She's in denial, but she'll come around." I assured him, "If we can all see how uncomfortable you are about fighting those you want to help, then so can Janet. And she doesn't strike me as the selfish type of person, either." Well, not a completely selfish person, at least.

"I hope you're right." He sighed heavily then offered me a waned smile, "Thanks, Briar."

"Back at ya, Bug Nerd," I cheekily replied as I carefully slid off the table, "So I guess I can't do much else for today, or a while longer, right?"

"For a while, at least," He agreed with a cheeky smile, "Maybe a walk or two, but no running or anything strenuous till that leg is well and truly healed."

"Yes, mom," I groaned playfully, and then gave a little soft squeal as he ruffled his hand through my hair in revenge. The both of us laughed before parting ways—Hank to his lab to resume packing (I did offer some help, but he declined of course) and Voltaire and I went to my labs. Maybe a movie or two or some Batman Arkham City would distract me for a while.

######

As it turns out, playing video games or watching movies did nothing to help distract me from my troubles, and since my leg prohibited me from any form of heavy exercise I couldn't go into the gym and workout any feelings on the punching bag. It didn't help ease my cabin fever when I found my magi-staff, lying oh-so-innocently on my workbench.

Fantastic…although while Hank did say I couldn't do most activities for now, he didn't say anything about experimenting.

So for the next hour, I did some tests, mostly around the resilience of the staff's power. The idea that I had was making the fire part of my offensive and the water would be my defense, therefore I needed to test how much pounding it could take.

No, I didn't perform any of the tests on myself—that'd be the ultimate act of stupidity, something I'm trying to avoid. I did, however, have an ample supply of electronic measuring devices laying around, so I put them to good use.

So far, the results seem promising. A water bubble surrounding a temperature reader could resist a blow torch on full heat from a centimeter away, and not produce much of a temperature differential reading. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser.

Also, the same bubble could protect an accelerometer even when a stack of tools fell straight on top of it (the noise was extraordinary), with only the slightest of bumps registering in the recording. True, there were much more tests to do, but I'd need to help from Iron Man and the Hulk to do so.

Iron Man wasn't going to be much of a problem: he, Thor and Wasp showed up showed up not that long ago, mind you I'm pretty sure Wasp is pretty upset with me at the moment. When she tried to get me to convince Hank not to quit the team (why on Earth would she think I could change his mind, I have no idea), I out right told her that Hank was allowed to do what he wanted if it made him happy—fighting bad guys did not make him happy, so why force him to stay and be miserable?

There might have been a better—or more tactful—way of handling that, I'm positive about, but it got Wasp off my case (thank Heavens), if a little upset that I didn't take her side on this matter.

Getting back to Iron Man—when I told him my about my experiments, he agreed and offered to help with the rest of the testing, but first he needed to so some research on something. As for the Hulk—

BANG!

—he just arrived, with T'Challa too no doubt. Good—now all I have to do is go up to my boyfriend, look him in the eyes and apologize for how I acted earlier and…yeah, who am I kidding? Even if I was ready and willing to talk to him, there's no chance that he'll want to talk to me. About anything

: Mind you, he probably doesn't know about Hank leaving the team. : The little voice reminded me. There is that, too…oh, Hell. I can't sit in my lab for the rest of my life. And just to reinforce that idea, Voltaire put his shoulder to the back of my chair and began forcing it towards the door.

"All right, all right, you win." I proclaimed loudly and got to my feet, "For all the good it'll do me." Voltaire simply rolled his eyes at me and led me through the hallways into the Quinjet platform, where the Hulk and T'Challa were placing the super-villains into containment pods to be transferred to Prison 42. I never understood why some moron decided not to have a containment facility in the Baxter Building, especially when the villain of the day was in the Baxter Building to begin with.

Okay, why am I procrastinating the inevitable here?

: And, oh, why do I feel so queasy? : I asked myself, not liking the sick feeling in my stomach right now. Voltaire turned to look at me, his head tilting slightly. As touching as his concern for me was, I knew that he wasn't going to let me off the hook that easily.

My hands started to clench, my right one curling around my magi-staff in an almost death-like grip. Surprisingly the magical object seemed to give me some comfort. Taking a deep breath in, and placing my hand on Voltaire's back, I walked over to the landing platform and crossed the gangway.

The Hulk noticed me first as he not-so-gently placed the final super-villain into the containment pod, grunting in acknowledgement as he did. T'Challa stared at the device in his hands as he typed away, not looking up at me, or making some sort of sing that he knew I was there. The sickening feeling in my stomach returned triple-fold; not a very good sign. My left hand crossed my stomach to grip at my arm tightly as I looked elsewhere.

"Ant Man's quit." I announced quietly, but they could both hear me none the less.

"Humph, took him long enough." Hulk grunted bluntly, "How'd Bug Lady take it?"

"Not that great." I replied, "As one could imagine." T'Challa had yet to make a comment about the news, but if this silence was an indicator of what was going to happen from now on, then it's official: I'm the worst girlfriend ever and I should consider myself dumped.

"So what about you two?" Hulk suddenly asked, making me look up from my ever-growing grief. "Are you two calling it quits 'cos you both overreacted?"

…Quite the bluntly spoken creature, isn't he? Wait, what did he mean by that: the 'both of us'? I'm the only one who overreacted! I barely got my mouth open to correct him when the lights above us began to flicker on and off. Okay, that's a bit spooky.

"Huh, cheap lights," Hulk commented as he began to cart two of the containment pods onto the Quinjet.

"No. We are under attack." I nearly jumped at the sound of Panther's voice. My heart rate nearly went back to normal before his words sank into my brain, and the queasy feeling turned into fear. But the Hulk didn't look convinced.

"Nobody's dumb enough to attack us here," he snorted, "Not after what we did to the Masters of Evil." Karma, thou art a heartless monster.

Hulk had barely finished speaking when the ramp closed up behind him and the engines turned themselves on. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing, even as the Quinjet flew itself off the platform and downwards to the launching tunnel. T'Challa and I both ran to the edge of the platform in time to see the water-wall close up, and for another ominous sound to fill our ears, and raise a whole new problem.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." I breathed when the second Quinjet began to move on its own, its weapons coming online and armed right at us. Instinct might have been the only thing that saved our hides from immediate death—the second I heard the weapons come out, my magi-staff was already in both of my hands and pulling a wall of water towards us. The rounds were absorbed by the shifting water, saving our butts as I moved my arms in circular motions, the water following the movement until a protective dome of water surrounded the three of us.

"So do we have any ideas at the moment?" I asked T'Challa, keeping my arms moving to prevent the shield from falling.

"As to who is now controlling the Quinjets, no," He answered as he pulled out a pair of vibranium daggers, "But if I can get close enough to this one, I can disable it. Can you move your shield?"

"I can drop it and raise it just as fast, but moving is not recommended." I told him, "The bubble will only last as long as I have the shortest path to accessible water." Yeah, that was the major downside of this technique. The other was the mental focus needed to keep my arms moving—if I get severely distracted for a second, we're as good as dead.

"So whatever you're planning, make it fast." I told him, and nearly jumped when something smacked into the water right where my forehead was located.

"Then get ready to drop the shield." T'Challa quickly ordered, "In 3, 2 NOW!" I dropped my arms and threw myself onto the deck just as T'Challa launched himself forward at the oncoming Quinjet. The moment his daggers hummed to life, he raised his arms and sliced his way through the wing, effectively separating it from the body of the jet.

Now we had a damaged jet ready to crash into us and explode.

With hasty synchronized movements, the three of us dove from the platform into the water below just as the dying Quinjet hit the wall and exploded into a giant fireball of doom. Hitting the water wasn't all that fun—in fact it knocked the wind right out of me. The only reason I didn't drown was T'Challa slipping his arm around my waist and pulled me to the surface. As soon as we breached the surface, I gasped in air even as I choked on the water coming out of my mouth. Once I was able to breathe properly again, T'Challa pulled he both of us to the edge where an emergency door waited. Voltaire had already beaten us there, shaking the water from his body as we flopped onto dry land…in a manner of speaking.

"Are you alright?" T'Challa asked, his hand resting on my back.

"I've felt worse." I spluttered an answer and sighed, "Though something tells me the worst hasn't even begun yet." And wasn't that a fun thought to have floating through our heads right now?

"We must find the others." He decided as he got to his feet, and then offered his hand out to me. Without hesitation, I grabbed a hold and let him pull me up onto my feet, and then followed him through the door and down various hallways.

The falling-into-water thing didn't help my injured leg at all, neither did all of this running, but I couldn't cave in now—not when my home was being threatened yet again. If T'Challa noticed my lagging strength, he didn't say a word as he pulled me along behind him, slowing down only long enough to peer around the corner in case of danger. A few minutes later and it was a whole different story, but my chance to tell T'Challa to slow down was taken away by the loud-yet-muffled-explosion coming from the Training Room. Wordlessly, T'Challa let go of my hand and dashed towards the door, carving a large triangle into the dagger before kicking at the section.

The carved part of the door flew from the force, allowing T'Challa to poke his head through the door and speak to whoever was inside.

"The mansion's computer systems have been compromised." He informed whoever it was, and I was grateful beyond words when I heard Clint's sarcastic reply to the obvious.

"What's happened out there?" Cap asked. T'Challa stepped back enough to allow them to leave the training room, followed by Jane Foster, a local paramedic and Thor's lady friend.

"Quinjets have gone crazy: one's destroyed, and the other's flown into orbit with the Hulk on board." I explained to them all, "As for the others, we don't know about yet." Hawkeye glanced over at me quickly before doing a double-take, now noticing that I was soaking wet, as were T'Challa and Voltaire. Before he could make a comment (one I would have slapped him for), Voltaire gave a bark took off down the hallway, leaving the rest of us to catch up to him. When we finally did, it was to run into Thor and Iron Man, who looked for the most part ok and unharmed, though why Tony wasn't armored up was a mystery.

"I'm guessing you guys were attacked as well?" Tony immediately asked us all.

"Quinjet."

"Training Room."

"In a word, yes, then," Tony summed up and sighed, "I know who's behind this. It's Ultron."

"Hank's synthezoid?" I asked in surprise, wondering the same thing everyone else probably was. The question then became the usual how and why, but all further questions were postponed when Cap realized two other people were still missing—Hank and Wasp.

The next few minutes were a blur to me, but somehow we found Wasp—being held captive by Ultron. Thor moved first, only for a bright light to flood our sights, nearly blinding us. Once the light was gone and we could see again, we were left stunned as Thor's hammer dropped to the floor as its owner…Thor was…

That moment of disbelief almost cost us even more as Ultron got ready to do to us what it did to Thor, but my quick thinking save them in time. Too bad I couldn't say the same about myself.

While I was able to push everyone else out of the way, by the time I had turned around and raise my arms to create a shield, the beam had hit me, filling my eyesight with a blinding light, and an intense pain that rocked my entire body. All of this felt like it lasted for hours—but probably only lasted for a second—before I fell into the darkness.

######

"Rose," I could scarcely breathe, my mind trying so desperately to deny what my eyes had just witnessed.

My Rose…my beloved light of my life…she was…she was…

"Briar…no," Hawkeye whimpered in pain, and my heart began to break.

"She's gone." Captain America gulped thickly.

My eyes closed against the tears that threatened to fall, the pain almost overwhelming me until it was replaced by rage: pure, unaltered rage at this vile creation that had stolen my love from me. Rage at this monstrosity that never should have been created in the first place.

Rage at myself for not telling Rose that I still loved her, faults, quirks and all.

: Rose, I shall avenge you! : I vowed to myself as I began to raise my daggers. : And, heaven willing, I will join you in the afterlife soon. :

######

"Geez! What the hell is—"

"Never mind that! Get the medical room ready, and fast! We don't have much time!"

"That's some damage. Can you fix it on your own?"

"I've got to try."

"Don't give up on me now! Don't you dare!"

"Thank the stars."

"Sleep now, we'll take you home soon. I promise."

*The author is hiding in the ceiling from not only any upset people, but a very, scarily angry Black Panther.* *The author cautiously peeks her head out from her hiding spot*

Okay, so I might have failed to mention that it was Rose that bites it, but so did Thor! Anyway, please leave your reviews where I can see them (safe in my hidey-hole), and reminding all that mean reviews will have their tushes thrown to the Hulk. Now if, you'll excuse me, I have to stay on watch for the Black Panther: he didn't like me when hurt Briar, or denied him that kiss earlier in the series, how do you think he's gonna be now?

Till the next chapter, or someone plugs some heavy-duty sedatives into Panther's butt, I am hiding where I'm safe, so this is Den saying bye-bye for now.

*The author pulls herself back into her hiding spot and replaces the ceiling panel...only to reveal an extremely furious Black Panther, with murder in his eyes**...someone may need to call an ambulance...or get the Hulk to restrain Panther.*

*Either way...eep!*