A/N: Hello!
Your eyes do not deceive you, this is another chapter in less than a month! May it be the sign of things to come!
Before we get started I need to give a HUGE thank you to JarvisDaBest who's kindly offered to beta read this fic - and considering how long this chapter is, it was definitely a mammoth task to start! I could not be more grateful for your help and it's been brilliant working with you. And if anyone spots any mistakes they are totally my own.
Now, onto business. Nat kicks some arse, so expect some violence but nothing too graphic. Otherwise, enjoy!
Day 1
The roads were dark and empty. Every now and then I sped through a patch of orange light that seeped from the lampposts and it added an extra layer of eeriness to the night.
It was the sort of atmospheric solitude that popped up right at the start of almost every thriller when an unsuspecting character was about to get knocked off. As if summoned by my wandering thoughts, a shadow outlined by the familiar lights of a Stark-made suit rippled out of the darkness accompanied by the disgruntled whoosh of disturbed air.
War Machine drew level with my motorbike without any fanfare and Rhodey's voice filled my helmet, breaking the unsteady peace.
"Got the call too, huh?"
"You say call, I say frantic Friday wake-up alarm."
He took a breath to say something but it turned into a groan when the traffic lights ahead of us turned red. Instead of taking advantage of his mode of transport, he opted to slow and touch down on the road next to me as I came to a stop. Something glinted just above the pointlessly red light.
"Smile for the camera Rhodes, they're watching us." His suit whirred as he saluted. "You're a little too calm for someone whose best friend has just been abducted."
"It's hardly the first time," he said and the suit whirred again, a shrug this time, "and anyway, I think you have something to tell me."
The light changed to green and, under the emerald glow, we coaxed our vehicles into moving.
"Do I now?" I asked once we were back up to full speed.
"Yes," he said without hesitation, "you and Tony being all secretive."
"Ah. You weren't meant to notice that."
"Clearly. Can I assume it's all part of some bigger plan?"
"Yeah. Their plan to kidnap him."
He spluttered but the many years of keeping his nerve under pressure meant he didn't so much as wobble in his flight. "You mean this isn't some elaborate plan to flush out some bad guys?"
"It's more of an elaborate hijacking of a very unsubtle plan by people who don't need flushing out because evil geniuses they are not."
"So, not a hoax?"
"Not a hoax."
"Huh, I'm suddenly feeling less calm about the situation," and it was true, there was a little waver of worry in his voice. "Tell me he's safe."
"As safe as I could make him." No matter how many contingency plans had contingency plans there was always a chance the players wouldn't do what was expected of them.
"Why didn't you keep me in the loop?"
"The more people in on a secret, no matter how trustworthy they are, the more difficult it is to control said secret."
"You sound pretty jaded, you know that?"
I shrugged. "I've been in this business a long time."
Day 2
Chaos ruled the Stark household.
Pepper tried to comfort a confused and frightened Morgan while talking an equally confused and frightened Happy out of his well-intentioned desire to cut his vacation short to be her pillar of short-tempered support.
Rhodey was on a call with someone who was meant to be important but whose name and lengthy job title slipped my mind.
Morgan, too young to understand what was happening but old enough to know that something was, suffered from an extreme case of indecision, and every few minutes she either toddled to her Morgan-only hiding spots or crawled into the comfort only her mum's arms could provide.
The PA, who was popping her Tony-related emergency cherry, seemed competent; screening calls and keeping journalists away from Pepper.
Then there was me, sat in an armchair I'd dragged to a corner, laptop open on my knees where a red dot stayed very still and flashed every few seconds. It had stopped moving hours before when I was still driving over. It boded well; he was still in the city and if the journey was so short then there likely wasn't a silent partner bankrolling the whole scheme. It was more about money than it was revenge.
"...Sir, all due respect...'
Flash.
"...you really don't need to Happy..."
Flash.
"...see the press release..."
Flash.
If I wanted to, I could go and extract him right then. The dot was his location and Rhodey and I was more than enough firepower to hit up the secret abduction lair. But Tony was Tony – he wanted the threat neutralised properly, which is why he decided to play along with my catch-and-release plan.
"...there is no one I trust more..."
Flash.
"...we're okay, and you're supposed..."
Flash.
"...from Stark Industries..."
Flash.
Well, was happy to go with it as long as he could stick a Stark twist up his sleeve, like an undetectable tracker that flashed red for "keep calm and carry on", green for "keep calm and come and pick me up, our plan actually worked guys", purple for "keep calm and hurry the heck over here, I Starked it up" or did a complete and total disappearing act should the tracker be unable to detect his signs of life.
"...to find him."
Flash.
"...to be on holiday."
Flash.
"...earlier this morning."
Flash.
It was chaos in the Stark household, and chaos was not conducive to concentration.
Day 3
The kitchen was much calmer than the living room.
Thoughts and doubts and unwelcome images swirled about my head, wild and unbridled and in desperate need of taming.
Tony hostage. Tony bruised and bloodied. Tony not moving.
The youngest Stark made them worse. So innocent with hopeful eyes and naive words and unfamiliar with the cruelty of the world.
Morgan at his bedside. Morgan crying. Morgan without her dad.
But it was fine. Had to be fine. Would be fine.
Tony was competent. He was quick thinking. He was resilient. He knew not to test their limits while at their mercy. He knew how important it was to keep a cool head.
Knowing was one thing, doing was another.
I sighed and filled my cup. The dark liquid was hypnotising until the coffee-scented steam crept into my consciousness and kick-started the more logical side of my brain.
Catch and release was a tried and tested method. Fact.
The one thing all people had in common was the desperate desire to know their plan had worked, and that's what this tactic fed into. Fact.
It was a strategy I'd used many times against Russia's enemies and just as many times against SHIELD's, with a success rate that spoke for itself. Fact.
Only, there was a little, really very minor almost negligible, snag. I was always the one designated bait. Never, not once in the countless operations I was involved in, had I sat back and let someone else take on the risks and suffer the easy-to-guess downsides of being captured by the enemy.
Standing in his kitchen, staring at my coffee I had no control over what happened to Tony. And it was the first time I appreciated the sense of utter helplessness Clint and Coulson must have felt all those times I was dragged into enemy territory beyond where they could easily reach.
I turned round, cup in hand, and watched more of the flashing dot. It remained steady and remained red and I just wanted it to turn green.
Pepper walked in and clocked the cup I held beneath my nose and the deep breaths I took to make the most of the smell.
"You really are addicted," she smiled. It was thin and a little wobbly but it was there.
"Worse things to be addicted to," I shrugged and put my cup down long enough to pour her one. She took it with a small thank you and joined me leaning up against the counter. We watched the laptop together.
After convincing Happy to stay away, Pepper had braced herself to spend all her time soothing Morgan, who had been out of sorts and terrified when Rhodey, the PA and I invaded her home with lots of noise and urgency. Except she'd settled on her own, loved having the extra visitors, and didn't demand too much of her mum's attention. So Pepper found herself with nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs and do her best not to let her thoughts run away from her.
"What if —"
"Don't." I halted that spiral before it had a chance to get going and held up a hand to cut off her protest. "FRIDAY, bring up the building plans, please."
There was the slightest of delays, in which Pepper still found enough time to shoot my silencing hand a dirty look that was quick to fall when my annotated plans popped up.
Because, of course, I'd done more than sit about and watch a dot flash its way through the days. I'd studied his location, identified the building, found where to make an entrance, created an exit strategy, and then went and made contingency plans with incremental revisions to suit a multitude of scenarios.
"Those," I watched her to make sure she was taking it all in, from every colourful line to each clear symbol, "are the what-ifs. Mapped out, tagged, considered because it's my job to worry about them, which means you don't need to."
There was something appraising in her gaze and I banished all remnants of my earlier doubts, because if anyone could find a way to read people's thoughts it was Pepper.
"I just have one question," she said, and it was obvious what she was going to ask from the weight it added to her voice. "How do you know they're not going to kill him?"
With a quick look into the hallway to make sure Morgan wasn't nearby, I resigned myself to giving her a blunt answer. She liked facts. "It's all about two things; money and humiliation. A dead hostage isn't good for either. They want Tony's money but to really rub the salt in the wound they want him to be the one to give it to them."
"How can you be sure?" She asked, doubt clouded her eyes.
"If it was just about the money, they would have targeted you or Morgan. But that would also create a lot of sympathy for Tony, which they want to avoid." She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "When you hate someone, you don't want anyone to sympathise with them. If he's handing over money to save his own ass, it's harder to feel sorry for him."
Of course, she was well-versed in the world of PR, knew how fickle the public was, and understood how correct that analysis was, but she still frowned. "And if something goes wrong? You're here, he's there. You can't do anything."
"They have to believe that we have no clue who's behind this. If they spot any Avenger loitering in the vicinity, then it's all over. Whoever is threatening Tony is still threatening you and Morgan as well."
Pepper put her cup onto the counter and ran a hand through her hair before looking at the plan once again. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and nodded.
"Okay. Okay. Thank you." She then looked at me with all the seriousness she could muster, which was quite a lot because she's Pepper, "I'm glad you've got his back."
Day 4
The laptop needed constant monitoring. Rhodey suggested shifts, but he looked as tired as I did and neither of us wanted to ask Pepper.
FRIDAY offered to take over.
We took her up on it.
It was not a success.
The red dot painted the back of my eyelids, flashing brighter and more insistent. It was there when I stared at the ceiling too.
I didn't even make it until morning before crawling out of the spare room and relieving FRIDAY of duty. It was a few hours before Pepper found me cross-legged on the sofa, chin rested in my hands and elbows digging into the sides of my knees, looking blearily at the screen.
"Have you even tried switching off?" She asked.
"Can't switch it off, need to watch the dot."
She sighed at me. The sort of sigh I'd heard her aim at Morgan more than once. She came and stood beside me, arms folded.
"A dad joke, you must be tired."
"Hmmm, I think I'm offended."
Rather than sit next to me, Pepper placed her hands on my shoulders and guided me until I was lying down. The surprise of it took all the fight out of me.
"You need to get some rest," she said when she pulled away, satisfied with her sneak attack, "he needs you firing on all cylinders when the time comes." She looked down then and I spotted Morgan for the first time, balancing against Pepper's leg though she looked like it was far too early for her. Pepper picked her up. "Do you want to rest with auntie Nat?"
"Yes," she said, and before I could so much as even think who said auntie Nat was going to be resting, Pepper had wedged her daughter between me and the back of the sofa and walked away.
My eyelids were heavy. Morgan settled quickly and her steady breathing encouraged them to close fully, a lullaby that couldn't be ignored.
"...No seriously. Foolproof plan. I give it ten out of ten."
It took all my willpower not to reach for the blade hidden about my person when the phantom voice broke through the haze of drowsiness I'd succumbed to.
That voice, it was Tony's...
I cracked an eye open. There was no one else in the room except the weight cuddled into my side.
Huh?
It could have been part of a vivid dream, that–
"Are you trying to goad me, Stark?"
–wasn't the answer. A different voice but from the same direction as before. I turned my head and–laptop, of course.
"Depends, is it working?"
Yep. That was definitely Tony. But how?
I blinked a few times to get my thoughts into focus, except that red dot was just as distracting as before - oh. He'd wanted to stick a Stark twist up his sleeve. It was more than just a tracker; it was a bug.
Who was he talking to?
"Friday, can you pull up the security feed from around the building Tony's in, please."
Different windows popped up, each with a different view of the same building. I did my best to locate the one I was after without disturbing Morgan.
And there it was. The car park.
The great thing about knowing who planned to abduct your friend was being able to get the drop on them. It meant certain perks like hacking into their life and getting a live update of their financial records, which also happened to show when they bought plane tickets and rented a car.
The same car parked in the upper right corner.
"Do you even remember us Stark?"
"Uh yeah, didn't you serve me at a drive-thru once? Is this about the time I got one of my suits to take my order from you? It's nothing personal, I just don't like to be handed stuff."
"Don't you ever take anything seriously?"
"Oh no, wait. I've got it now. We met at that seminar. Abducting Clueless Billionaires 101, right?"
The pause that followed was a frustrated one, it was the same frustration we'd all felt when at the wrong end of Tony's unrelenting sarcasm. It was kind of refreshing to witness it lash out at new targets.
"Friday," I whispered, "can you get Pepper and Rhodey here, please."
As useful as Tony's motor mouth was in those moments, the more it motored increased the risk of the dot turning purple. It would pay to all be on the same page before that happened.
They appeared just in time to hear the next instalment of patented Tony Stark obnoxiousness.
"You look annoyed. Was it something I said? No, seriously, you look like you want to break my face. By all means go ahead, it's not like I won't be able to fix it. I've got deep enough pockets."
I sighed. Good to know he was listening during all that time I spent lecturing him on the importance of not encouraging your captors to hit you.
"I think," Rhodey said through the hand he was hiding behind, looking down at me, "you need to suit up."
3 April 2021
Cars converged on one another.
I zipped through the narrowing gaps.
Horns blared.
Brakes squealed.
Harsh words leaked through a few rolled-down windows.
Lights threatened to go red. I didn't stick around long enough to find out. There was only one light that mattered and it had turned purple.
Keep calm and hurry the heck over here, I Starked it up.
I hit the city limit at record speed. A display inside my helmet showed the distance between where I was and where I needed to be. An angry lorry driver honked as I dipped in front of him.
"You're the reason women shouldn't be allowed on motorbikes," he yelled with his head sticking out the window like it was a responsible thing to do.
I flipped him off and sped even further ahead.
Flying would have been quicker. Fewer obstacles, more likely to get there in one piece. Rhodey and I had decided that was exactly why he needed to stay behind. He could provide a swift escape route for Pepper and Morgan should things not go quite to plan.
The bike jolted beneath me. Potholes were a bigger feature once I turned off the main roads. I was close to where Tony was, so I cut the speed to cut the noise.
"Friday?"
"Alarms disabled and security feed disrupted, Director."
"Good."
I rolled on.
It had been a simple mistake.
"You wanna stand there and trade insults..."
Basic.
"...As a very stubborn guy I have the misfortune of knowing always says: I can do this all day..."
Tiny.
"...So what's it going to be, Lukey Boy? Are we gonna get down to business?"
All too damaging. That mouth of his, running and running until it ran away from him.
"How do you know my name?"
I parked the bike. Helmet still on, confident in the invisibility Friday had created for me. There were scuffles in the background, loud in the almost silence left behind by the cut-off engine noise. The homeless getting out of sight, afraid the bike meant trouble.
It did.
Just not for them.
"Heat map."
The display in my helmet changed. No guards patrolling the area. None on the roof. None dotted around the top floor. All gathered in the same area.
I sighed.
"Why are quality criminals so hard to come by these days, Friday? Did Thanos take all the good bad guys?"
Before she could answer me I took the helmet off and rested it on the handlebar.
No guards around. Alarms off. Cameras looped. That left the front door wide open and it would be rude not to use it.
I strode right up to the front of the building and slipped straight through. It was dark inside, because everything these guys knew about criminal enterprises came straight out of Hollywood.
"Come on Stark you usually like talking. How do you know my name?"
Luke Dennis' voice greeted me as I stepped into the shadows. I followed the trail it left me.
"Lucky guess," Tony said with his nonchalant confidence that dared anyone who heard it not to believe what he pedalled.
"No," Luke snarled, "none of that Stark bullshit. How do you know my name?"
I crept to the edge, just out of the shadows. Seven guards in front of me, all looking the other way. Tony was tied to a chair. A bruise outlining one eye, his split lip staining his beard. Industrial grade cuffs put strain on his wrists and ankles whenever he moved.
He moved a lot.
None of that stopped the smile when he spotted me at the back of the pack. With a dramatic sigh, he slumped back into his chair, ignoring the possessive grip of those cuffs. "Alright Lukey Boy, you got me. I do know who you are," Tony said while Luke stepped into his personal space full of eagerness to be proved right, Robin Mitchell hovered behind him twisting his fingers. "Actually, I can't take all the credit. It was a good friend of mine who identified you."
"Which good friend?" He looked over at Robin, who just shrugged. It was nice to hear the uncertainty in his voice.
"Natasha Romanoff."
"We'll be ready for her," there was a smirk in his voice, which wasn't so nice to hear.
I crept up on the closest guard. His yelp of surprise was muffled against my hand. The next one was cut off by my arm crushing his windpipe. Surprise overwhelmed strength, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
"She's a bit tame nowadays, isn't she?"
I threw my victim forward. He landed with a solid thump loud enough to draw all eyes. They watched him, confused, but found their answer when they looked up and found me lurking just outside the shadows.
"Hmm, I think we should test that."
There was a click. I dodged just in time. A bullet whizzed past and thunked into the wall.
A different mercenary swung at me, all strength, no technique. I twirled out the way. He overbalanced and stumbled, blocking the gun that was taking aim again. I spun and kicked him so he flew into the shooter.
They fell to the ground.
The gun clattered to the floor.
"Wooh!" Tony cheered.
I was about to slide towards it when my head snapped back with the force of a punch from guard number three.
"Ooh," Tony winced.
I rode the shockwave into a pirouette and ended it with a hard kick to his chest. There was a crack when he landed but there wasn't time to take stock of the damage. The one who'd tried punching me earlier was back on his feet, gun unholstered and kicking the one on the floor back to the original owner.
A fourth guard joined them.
A fifth went to help the one on the floor stand, blood streamed from the back of the latter's head, hair already matted.
Five on one.
Easy.
I back flipped out of the way, two more bullets missed their mark. Landing in a crouch I threw two discs, which activated on impact. Electricity jolted out of the small devices and caught the shooters in an unrelenting current. They jerked and twitched, guns falling from their grip straight away, and collapsed into heaps.
Two down.
But there were footsteps coming up behind me. One more had joined the fight.
"Behind you," Tony yelled.
"I don't need the running commentary."
I ducked the punch that came from behind. Turned and sunk my fist into his gut. Then again. And again. He sucked in a lungful of air, which sounded like it burned on the way in. The guy took a couple of steps back and tackled me. His shoulder digging into my abdomen.
My back slammed into one of the support pillars, my head snapped back again and hit the concrete.
"Oooo," Tony said again, "are you sure about that commentary?"
"Stark!"
"Right, right. Sorry. Master at work, I'll be quiet."
My arms were free. The back of my attacker's neck too tempting a target. I brought an elbow down on it with all the force I could muster. I did it again. Then a third time.
These guys were tenacious, I'd give them that.
It was on the fourth blow his grip loosened and he staggered away. I landed light on my feet. Some of the soreness started creeping through, but guards four and five were running up and adrenaline swept all the pain to one side.
They split up and came at me from different directions. They couldn't land a single hit. The one who'd hit his head on the floor was less steady on his feet. He readied himself for another huge punch, which I blocked. Keeping him in place long enough for his partner to launch another attack.
I dodged.
And watched as they hit each other.
Both stumbled back, confused.
It was a lapse in their concentration and I took full advantage, sweeping the unsteady one off his feet, grabbing the wrist of the other, taking the opportunity to snap it, then flipped him through the air so he landed on his friend. There was groaning. I think some ribs were broken.
"That, that right there. That's why she's my daughter's godmother," Tony said a bit too gleefully, unable to help himself.
But guard number six wanted more. His eyes were spitting anger. He pointed yet another gun at me. I grabbed it with both hands and pushed back, hard. His nose crumpled under the pressure and I wrenched the weapon from his grip as his hands spasmed with the pain.
With the back of his collar in hand, I dropped the gun to the floor, gripped his shoulder and smashed his face into the same pillar he'd held me against. There was a gargled yelp which told me I didn't do a good enough job. So I did it again. The second time was enough. He checked out of the fight.
Just one guard left, the one with the broken wrist. He cradled it, keen to protect it from any further damage. I pulled my batons out of their holsters and swiped at his legs. He tried to jump over it but his balance was lopsided with pain so he tangled his feet together.
I twirled around and hit him again, this time in the head. It disorientated him but he still kept his footing. So the third spinning hit was aimed at his ribs, only that was where he was cradling his broken wrist.
The yell echoed throughout the factory.
And it didn't stop because I'd put my batons away and grabbed the offending wrist, twisted it behind his back and tightened my hold. I pulled it harder until he passed out.
Six out of six. Plus the one I surprised earlier.
I wasn't sure how long that all took but I expected it to be enough time for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum to attempt an escape. Except when I turned round to face Tony they were still there.
"Are they actual idiots?" I asked Tony from where I stood.
He shrugged. "Jury's still out but I think it's leaning towards yes."
It was only when I started walking towards Tony and the chair he was tied to that Luke and Robin seemed to realise there were no more guards left between them and me. They were just about to make a run for it when I used my bites again. Their grand plan came crashing down in a cloud of electricity and twitching limbs.
"I hate it when it's too easy," I said, reaching Tony, "kinda takes the fun out of it."
"Bravo," he cheered while I went about picking the locks on the cuffs, "I have an idea for you, hear me out. Cage fighting. Honestly, think it over. I think you'd do pretty well."
Free of his bindings he stood and stumbled. I caught him before he could lose his balance completely. "You alright Tony? You hurt anywhere else?"
"Nah, I'm fine," he flexed his wrists, "hungry though. Can we stop for a cheeseburger on the way home?"
12 April 2021
A few days passed. Actually, just over a week.
The story of Tony's abduction and rescue was discussed on every news channel, daytime and late-night chat show. It didn't show many signs of slowing down.
We did stop for cheeseburgers on the way home and photos of us, bloodied and battered and bruised, waiting for our order were stolen from social media and used everywhere.
The authorities took custody of Luke Dennis and Robin Mitchell. We gave our statements, the evidence we'd collected, and Tony gave a very strongly worded reply when asked why he didn't get the proper people involved. Strong enough to make sure they wouldn't try very hard to rescue him if he found himself abducted yet again.
I had my nose buried deep in prep for a mission Rocket and Nebula were going to attempt-there was always so much more to consider when an operation was taking place half a galaxy away–when Friday brought up a screen I hadn't asked for.
"Friday, what are you doing?"
"Sorry, Boss insisted."
It was blank for a few seconds and then it was filled with a live stream from what looked like the press room at the SI headquarters. Tony was there, front and centre, Pepper right beside him.
"Okay okay. Settle down," he said, the bruising on his face colourful, "I know, it's good to see me. " I didn't hear it but I could see the intake of breath as Pepper sighed. She stepped forward and nudged him away from the mic.
"Thank you for being here. We've had a lot of questions over the last few days and we wanted to take this opportunity to make a statement about the unfortunate events. After this afternoon we will not be making any further comments on the matter. As I'm sure you can understand, we would like to put it behind us."
"Thanks honey," Tony said once she stepped back and gave him the spotlight again, "I think that's you all told." Gentle laughter rippled through the room. There was polite interest in what followed, a bland message of gratitude to be home safe and to everyone who'd wished him well since his return, saved by a few Tony-isms here and there. I was beginning to wonder why he made Friday bother me with the stream when he took a deep breath.
"I wouldn't be here today talking to you all if not for the Avengers. As you know, they have been a big part of my life for some time now and I'm grateful for that today more than ever. They made sure I came back home to my family. Thank you to Rhodey who kept them safe while the operation to bring me home was underway. And Natasha for making sure it was a success. Without her tireless dedication, optimism and refusal to ever be beaten, which she has applied to every mission, the Avengers would be lost. As I would have been. Thanks to them, something which could have easily gone south had a happy ending."
He paused for a second, looked at Pepper then turned back to the mic with a smirk on his lips.
"I guess that's why we made them Morgan's godparents."
I groaned and rested my forehead atop my hands on the desk.
That was one battle lost.
And now it sounded like Rhodey and I were a couple.
There was some chatter as journalists tried to throw some questions at Tony, but he did what he doesn't often do and retreated from the spotlight. The live stream switched off.
About ten seconds passed in silence until Friday broke it.
"Director, a journalist from the Daily Bugle would like to talk to you."
I should have left Stark in that damn chair.
19 April 2021
"I'm not here next week," I said to Aaron when he hopped out of the front of the vehicle.
"Going somewhere nice with War Machine?" He flashed me a grin and opened up the back of the van.
"Don't you start." As I'd predicted, the rumour mill had gone into overdrive, focussing not on Tony's words but on what they implied. Which, to be fair, is where the gossip rags made their money. It was all mostly harmless, just an added inconvenience to the day whenever either of us had to set the record straight. Until the political side of Rhodey's job was made harder by a growing belief he was going to share sensitive intel with me.
It was pointless because, A) he had to share some of that information with me since I ran the Avengers and B) Rhodey was just as tight-lipped as I was, no matter our relationship with one another he wasn't about to start spilling all the military's secrets.
Tony had apologised for that unintended consequence.
"I'm just kidding," Aaron said from within the van, then his head popped out with quizzical eyebrows, "unless, are you?"
"No, we're not. Tony's just an idiot who sometimes just can't help but make trouble for other people." I said it with my angry face on but I couldn't find it in myself to be angry with him.
"Still, he said some nice things about you. And I have to say," Aaron heaved the totes out, almost losing his balance on the step down to the ground, "it's nice to see the media being positive about you and the Avengers after those stupid stories last month."
Ah, so I wasn't the only one who had noticed. Ever since the press conference, the mainstream media had been giving the Avengers rave reviews. At first, it was saving Tony, then it was giving our community outreach the focus it deserved, and yesterday, there was a detailed analysis of the report I published a few weeks ago about our activity, what we've achieved and what we could improve.
"Yeah," I conceded, "that makes a change."
Aaron heaved the trolley onto its two wheels and we headed into the compound. The evenings were getting lighter but it still took some getting used to the indoor brightness. His eyes followed the bruising on my jaw, which was starting to fade.
"What?" I asked.
"What?" Was his rather original counter.
"You're looking at the bruises. You want to know something. I've been hurt worse than this before, you know. Stop being so twitchy."
"No, it's not that, well it is because that's not a very comforting thing to hear even if it's expected because of your job, you know. Avenger. Not like a few injuries aren't going to happen here and there-"
"Aaron."
"I kind of thought you might have, like, a version of the serum that Captain America has, you know. But I guess if you did that would be all healed up by now."
"Not in this reality," I said, "why'd you think that?"
"Because you don't have any special armour or magic powers or anything but you keep up with them. So I thought some sort of super serum."
"Nope. Just pure skill, kid."
He laughed and it echoed down the corridor, a reminder at how empty the place was but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he allowed another question to roll off his tongue.
"So where are you going?" He asked.
"Wakanda," I said, unable to hide the note of sadness that always haunted that word.
"Oh." It was such a small word to carry so much weight, maybe that's why it broke halfway through. Aaron cleared his throat and I let him pretend it didn't happen right until the moment his shoulders slumped and the tower of totes almost toppled from the trolley. I placed a steadying hand on it before the contents went everywhere.
"Sorry," Aaron said and brought us to a stop. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The picture of a person who'd rather not remember.
"Who?" I asked even though my mind had already provided me the answer.
He opened his eyes and let his breath out in the sort of measured manner that spoke of a grounding technique. "My best friend. Inseparable. Until... you know."
Thanos loomed large in my mind. The stones glowed. The click of his fingers echoed. I wondered what the name conjured in Aaron's mind. The name was all most people knew, beyond those present during the battle, no one on the planet knew what he looked like.
Just another monstrous figure like Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster, except we lived every day surrounded by the proof of his existence.
"How long have you known each other?"
"Always. Barely a day where we didn't see each other," he paused. "Now I can't even bring myself to go find his name on our local memorial."
"Were you with him?"
He nodded. "Yeah." He breathed out, still centring himself. I realised, then, that these probably weren't the best questions to be asking him, but he continued. "Not the sort of thing you'd forget. We both noticed at the same time. His hands went first but he still reached out. There was this look on his face, and this noise that was just total fear and by the time I realised it was him he was gone."
I released the trolley from his weakened grip and started towards the kitchen again. He took the opportunity to wipe away the tears staining his cheeks.
"You got any other deliveries after this?"
"No. You're my last one."
"Good. You better prepare yourself for a cup of the galaxy's best coffee."
I got the coffee machine going and started to unpack the groceries. Aaron went to help but I kicked out one of the stools and gave him a you're-sitting-this-one-out look. He gave in.
"I'm sorry about your friend," I said when everything was away and planted a steaming cup in front of him, "I'm sorry we couldn't stop him."
"S'not your fault. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you guys tried. No one should ever be blamed for trying." He stared into the depths of his coffee as if he was looking for an answer to something. "Did you, er, were you with anyone when they... went?"
I sipped my own drink and placed the cup gently on the counter while I fixed my mask in place, just as gently. "I was surrounded by people, but I wasn't with anyone." I paused, thinking of how best to explain it to someone who wasn't there, "Thanos had those stones. One of them reshapes reality. I was running at him and then I was trapped. I got free once he disappeared. Vision was dead by then, the damage done.
"There was a moment of silence, though. Hush that fell over the battlefield. They all saw what was happening but no one understood and...silence. Until they started calling out for each other. I'll always remember that."
It was quiet when I stopped talking and both of us lingered in our memories for a little longer. Shaking his head, Aaron took a tentative sip of his coffee then went straight back for another. I swept my guilt away, I could wallow in it on the day.
"I heard they were going to make the anniversary an international holiday," he said with an injection of forced cheeriness.
"Still under consideration. Some countries don't like the idea of most of their workforce having an extra day off and getting paid for it. But you didn't hear that at all."
"Course not," he said, "and War Machine isn't gonna be there?"
"No, he won't be. The White House want him at their event later in the day. And you," I pointed at him, "are a pain."
He left after he finished his drink. I settled back at my desk and searched for his once inseparable friend so I could look at the face of one more person we'd let down.
27 April 2021
Wakanda was solemn.
It always is. But then I'm only ever here at this time of year. The humidity is a constant, uncomfortable presence. Clothes stick to all sorts of places.
We were greeted by the usual gathering, Okoye right at the front; ever the gracious host.
Three whole years.
It was clear in every face that looked at us. In the depths of the creases, the weariness in their eyes, the permanent and ever so slight downturn of their mouths.
We all wore it like eternity.
But it seemed to weigh heavier on her. Deeper creases, wearier eyes, more pronounced downturn. We had the luxury of leaving after all formalities were done, but patriotism and duty tethered Okoye to this place.
"Captain Rogers, Doctor Banner, Nat," she said in greeting and I felt like the nickname was a greater show of respect than the titles.
Someone showed us to our quarters. The same as always.
"They should start calling these rooms the Avengers Suites," Steve joked, only Bruce smiled. We separated into our different spaces.
There was the slightest of breezes on my balcony. It cooled my sweat-coated skin. I soaked in the natural beauty and manmade wonder and wished I had gotten to know the country under better circumstances.
The yells of people at work and noise of last-minute construction floated on the air; final touches being put together. I missed the invisibility I used to have. The one that let me skip events like this.
Once upon a time my presence would have raised eyebrows more than my absence, but this was the double-edged sword of leading the team.
I took a quick shower to wash off the journey and changed into the clothes Okoye provided. They were much lighter, made the humidity more bearable.
Hair still drying, I left my quarters. No idea where I was going, just knowing I couldn't stay. I let my feet take control and gave my destination no thought until I arrived. I blinked back to reality in front of names carved in stone. The memorial they unveiled last year.
So final, but so beautiful.
I looked up at Wanda's name. Then Sam's and Vision's and Bucky's.
Did Yelena have her name anywhere? Melina? Alexei?
My breath caught in my throat at the unexpected thought. Caught in a spiral of shame that I hadn't thought of it before.
But I reined it in. There were footsteps and I wasn't going to let anyone catch me in one of my emotionally unsteady moments.
"Hi," Steve said when he reached me, Bruce was behind him already staring up at the wall with the same emotions that had engulfed Steve and I last year.
"Hi," I answered.
"Thought I'd show Bruce, he hasn't seen it yet."
I just nodded and Steve seemed to understand the lack of words, so we all stayed in silence and remembered the people those names belonged to.
It was Okoye who found us. There was something in her voice that made me suspect she had found us a while ago but didn't want to disturb us.
"Come," she said to us, "the sun has long since set and you must eat. I would be honoured if you joined my table."
We all agreed though none of us had an appetite. The rest of the evening was spent with Okoye in her quarters. The guards eyed Bruce, wary of the strength that rippled through his muscles and no doubt analysing the best way to take him down should he become a threat.
The next day, anniversary day, was long.
The morning stretched for weeks with more arrivals and off-camera formalities. Security stepped up, making it harder to move anywhere. We set up the holo-calls to the remaining Avengers, overseen by someone from the Wakandan tech division.
At some point, I almost crossed paths with Jelani. It was a brief glimpse across a crowded square, eyes meeting between people rushing past. He disappeared before it could turn into a proper chance meeting and I was glad.
The cameras rolled, Wakanda centre of global attention once again.
We endured the speeches, including my own with words that sounded hollow because there weren't any big enough or loud enough to say what I wanted to. We watched the rituals, all the westernised ways of honouring the dead, then the way Wakanda did it always with so much more vibrancy and sincerity.
Every single person involved in that day three years ago looked back and wished they'd done something different.
There was a late lunch afterwards, attendance mandatory. I was there physically but couldn't say I was there mentally. People spoke to us, some of them tried to use it as an opportunity for political gain but they were often quieted by our stony glares.
Okoye was accosted by the most people. The smile on her face was a void. Her eyes dulled by the grief of the day and the tedium of such face-to-face meetings. Something in me wanted to stay in support of her but there was another that was over exhausted from the excessive human interaction.
"Go, my friends," she said to us when she had a moment to herself, "you have important work. I shall not detain you for longer."
"What about you?" I asked.
"This," she said and swept a hand to encompass the room, "is my job now. It does not excite me as much as the thrill of being with my sisters in the Dora Milaje, but I can survive it."
I hugged her and a nearby guard flinched.
We bid her farewell.
I headed straight for my room after getting back to the compound and dug out one of my hidden knives. There was a bare patch of wall that wasn't always visible, a place I could seek out if I wanted but didn't have to see all the time.
I created my own little memorial, hands coming away covered in dust and grit and all I could think of was the dust and ash those three people had become.
The knife fell to the floor with a clatter.
My dust-covered hands traced each letter of each name.
Two widows and a super soldier, disowned by their country and forgotten by the rest of the world. Except here, in my own private memorial.
A/N: I think it might time to check in on the Bartons and Co in the next chapter