A/N: Hey there my lovelies, glad to see you here. I took my sweet ass time with this chapter, but Christmas took up so much of my time. I actually meant to publish this on Christmas Day as a Christmas present for you guys but I didn't finish in time. Oh well here it is now, so Happy Christmas guys. A lot about Phoenix in this chapter, hence the reason why I used the song, The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy in this chapter. Listen to it while you're reading, it's awesome. As always beautiful readers, don't forget to read, review and enjoy.

Mark was a very competitive person. He did not like being beaten. So getting hit with that arrow yesterday was a real blow to his self-esteem. Although Clint Barton was Hawkeye, and an Avenger, as well as being an awesome spy and champion marksman. It still hurt.

Yesterday's humiliation was what drove him to the idiocy of waking up, literally before every single thing on the planet woke up, and making his way downstairs via the elevator to work on his fitness and whatnot. It was a dumbass idea and Mark knew it.

Put on your war paint!

As the lift opened onto the training centre Mark was suddenly hit by a loud blast of music that was playing from the training room speakers. Someone was already training, and whoever it was had the speakers turned up so loud to the point where the whole room was pounding.

You are a brick tied to me that's dragging me down,
Strike a match and I'll burn you to the ground

His eyes came across a person stood in the middle of the training room, back to him and working away hard at a punching bag. From where Mark had stepped out of the elevator, he could see the person clearly and managed to pick out their features. Red hair, pale skin, for a second he thought it was the Black Widow, until he realised that her hair was far too ginger in colour to be the Black Widow.

You know time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start
So dance alone to the beat of your heart

Fear overtook him inside of a second; he could feel the blood pumping to his head as his mouth dropped open slightly. His first instinct was to run, run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He couldn't move, was frozen to the spot.

You're wearing our vintage misery
No, I think it looked a little better on me

Phoenix.

Bring home the boys and scrap scrap metal the tanks
Get hitched and make a career out of robbing banks

Phoenix was terrifying to put it simply. It wasn't exactly her fault, it's not like she wanted to be raised as a psychopath and trained to kill people. But Heather was right; she was a monster. Mark could remember Navy Pier in perfect detail. It was the worst day of his life. Seeing Phoenix for the first time was like being tied to train tracks and watching the train come directly towards you, knowing there was nothing you could do to escape.

So we can take the world back from the heart-attacked
One maniac at a time we will take it back

Phoenix delivered each punch, kick and hit in time with the beat of the music, moving swiftly as she beat the crap out of the bag. She worked at it like nothing else in the world mattered. Curiosity played him like a fiddle as he felt himself moving towards her instead of running away.

Hey young blood
Doesn't it feel like our time is running out?

Slowly he moved in a circle, making his way around the room, keeping it so she could not see him, but put himself into a position where he could look at her face. She attacked the punching bag like it was her worst enemy, with a clear set determination in her expression. She'd clearly been working hard for a while now because beads of sweat were already covering her face.

The war is won,
before it's begun.
Release the doves,
surrender love.

Although she was mostly focused on her roundhouse kicks and punches, Phoenix was listening carefully to the music she was playing. Each time she hit the punching bag, it was exactly in time with the beat of the music, she was nodding her head and mouthing the words to the song.

I'm gonna change you, like a remix,
and I'll raise you, like a Phoenix

This didn't help Mark's feeling of curiosity. He wanted to get closer, stand in front of her so he could watch all of her movements in intricate detail. It was almost like he was seeing her for the first time, not the menacing presence that had dragged him away from his normal life.

Put on your war paint!

The song ended as Phoenix stepped and kicked the bag directly in its centre with such a force that it swung dangerously on the chain it hung from. She steadied it before it could swing back and hit her, looking down over her right shoulder as she did so, eyes moving upwards from the ground until she saw Mark.

He froze where he stood, tried desperately to analyse her blank expression for any signs of anger. She didn't look surprised, didn't even blink. "You're not very subtle," she told him calmly, untying the black ribbons from her hands that had been used to protect her knuckles from injury. "I knew you were there the minute you stepped out of the elevator."

Mark's mouth opened and closed, he could only assume he resembled a stunned fish at that moment. Phoenix turned away from him and grabbed a gym bag she had nearby, her shoulders dropping dramatically as she sighed. Mark's shock vanished in a wave and instead that annoying curiosity overtook him again.

She obviously heard him shifting behind her, so Phoenix turned around to face him. More curiosity hit him like a gunshot as he watched her avoid his eyes, a defeated look on her face. "I'll leave. I doubt you want me anywhere near you." Her tone of voice wasn't even sarcastic or bitter, she sounded sad more than anything else.

Phoenix moved to walk past him towards the elevator, he had no idea what mad idea that occurred to him in that split second made him do it. "Wait!" Mark reached out a grabbed Phoenix's forearm, preventing her from walking away. This was a bad idea for obvious reasons, but Mark didn't realise it until their skin made contact and she flinched so severely it was like he had just shot her with a Taser.

He released her very quickly and took a major step backwards. Phoenix's entire body had frozen up and she was staring at her arm where Mark had grabbed her, glancing upwards at him after a second with a stunned and suspicious look on her face.

"I'm really sorry," Mark apologised hurriedly.

He looked at her, but he concentrated, taking in all her features, it felt like he was seeing her for the first time. Phoenix looked different after two months, now she didn't look sickly pale, just normal pale. Her red hair was tied off her face in a ponytail but a few strands had come loose and stuck to the sweat on her face. She didn't look sick anymore.

The one thing that stood out to him in particular were her eyes, they were blue as always, but it was the dark crescents under her eyes that he focused on, they weren't you're average 'stayed up to late studying' dark eyes. They screamed at Mark that Phoenix hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.

"Why are you up so early?" he inquired, although he already suspected what her answer would be. "It's like 4:30 in the morning, and you look like you've been down here for hours already. Seriously are you ok?"

Phoenix titled her head to the side and scoffed, shaking her head slightly. "I'm fine."

Mark wasn't stupid, he knew that whenever a girl said she was fine she was practically always lying. That, and Phoenix's appearance and attitude were obvious indicators that she was completely lying to him. Although the way she looked at him was clear that she didn't want to talk about whatever was troubling her. Not that he cared.

It was like a wave of realisation came down on him like an aggravated tsunami. He was associating with the enemy, Heather had warned them that Phoenix would try and get into their heads so she could manipulate them into following her. Mark was supposed to hate Phoenix, after all she was a monster, just like Heather told them. They all knew that, and couldn't afford to forget it.

Another thought sneaked into his mind, operating on the other side of the argument. The way she talked, the way she acted, it wasn't the behaviour of something who was trying to manipulate them. It was the behaviour of another personality entirely, someone who had been hurt, someone who was feeling pain. No way in hell was Phoenix anywhere close to fine.

"You don't need to leave because of me," Mark attempted a half-smile. "I'm fine with sharing, it's a big training room."

Again Phoenix titled her head to the side, except this time it was because she was confused. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then decided against it and closed her mouth. Finally she decided what she was going to say. "But you made it very clear that you don't want anything to do with me."

Mark shrugged, attempted a joke. "I don't like to be beaten, maybe if I practise some more I might be able to knock Hawkeye on his ass for a change."

The joke sailed over Phoenix's head like a projectile missile with no concept of aiming. "It will take you many years of training before you can match Clint's level of fighting. He is many years of training ahead of you experience-wise."

Sighing deeply, Mark eyed the ceiling and muttered a few choice words. Turning to Phoenix, he motioned to the room around them. "Well then why don't you show me some of your moves?" he suggested hopefully. "You seem to be pretty good at fighting, so there's a good place to start."

Phoenix stared at him, blank faced. She continued to remain silent, staring at him like he had just told her something completely shocking ad unbelievable. It got creepy after about a minute of complete and utter silence.

"I'm not speaking Mandarin am I?" Mark asked sarcastically.

Phoenix ignored him. "You want me to help you," she said to herself as she looked to the ground and she scratched at her chin, almost like it was a completely unbelievable statement.

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said yeah," Mark nodded, biting his lip thoughtfully as Phoenix ran the scenario through her head while she continued to stare at him. "A simple yes or no answer would be helpful, I'm not Heather, I can't read your mind."

"Ok," she agreed, her stunned expression disappearing off her face as quickly as it had washed over her in the first place. Phoenix became all business as she seemed to realise that training was an area of her expertise. "You're strong in your lower body because of your running, but not so much in your upper body. I wanna see how you throw punches, plus I've got the bag set up anyway."

Mark nodded eagerly and began walking towards the punching bag with his fists raised. "Hey can you put on Eye of the Tiger, I wanna Rocky this bitch." Although Mark had never actually seen the movie Rocky, he did have a vague idea of what a boxing montage might look like.

"Before we start we need to go over a few things first," Phoenix stepped in front of him. She was finding his behaviour extremely strange, but was unsure of whether or not it was classified as ordinary behaviour, and therefore did not address Mark on the matter. "

She raised her hands, moving to put them on his shoulders, but hesitated. "Um, can I?"

"Uh," Mark stammered as he made eye contact with Phoenix. "Yeah go right ahead."

Putting her hands on his shoulder, she gently pushed him backwards and away from the punching bag. Phoenix proceeded to position him so he was in the correct ready stance. "Hold your fists up to your chin like this, and keep your elbows close to your waist," Phoenix instructed as she demonstrated. "Now show me a punch."

"What do you want me to punch? The air?"

"Just show me how you punch."

Mark swung his right arm back and then thrust his fist forward, demonstrating his punch to Phoenix, who watched his movements closely. She held up a hand when he made a move like he was going to punch again. Looking at Mark like he had just done something unbelievably stupid, Phoenix shook her head.

She hesitated before giving him feedback, worried he may react negatively. "You're not punching correctly." She stood beside him, and made direct eye contact. "If you punch your enemy in the face like that, you'll probably end up doing more damage to yourself than your opponent,"

"So how do I avoid damaging myself?" he asked, looking at Phoenix out of the corner of his eyes with a sly grin.

Phoenix raised her fists in front of her, resting them just underneath her chin. "You're punching flat on your knuckles, which is putting most of the force on your two smaller knuckles. You need to angle your punch, so you're hitting with your two larger knuckles. Putting too much pressure on your smaller knuckles means you'll probably end up breaking your hand."

"Got it, big knuckles first," Mark nodded, listening to Phoenix's instructions and watching her intently.

Phoenix grabbed Mark's forearm and gently guided it in the direction he was supposed to throw his punch. "Make sure you don't bend your elbows because that can cause jarring," she put a hand on his bent elbow and righted it. "As you punch, thrust your shoulder and hip. Don't forget to take a small step off your front foot."

"Elbows straight, thrust, and step," Mark ran through the steps in his head, smiling at Phoenix. "Yeah I think I got it."

Phoenix slowly demonstrated the technique once more, running through the steps as she did so. "This is one of the simpler punches, and it's called a Jab. You throw the punch with your lead hand," she informed him, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips.

"Uh what hand?"

"Your lead hand," Phoenix repeated herself. "Are you right-handed or left-handed?"

"Left," Mark mumbled in response, embarrassed that he actually had to answer this question within days of his residency at Stark Tower.

"Then your lead hand would be your right hand. It's the hand opposite to the one you write with."

Mark held his right arm up, looked it up and down, and twisted his wrist, looking at his hand while processing the new information. He shrugged, and made a move to walk closer to the bag. Phoenix stopped him yet again, pressing a hand against his chest.

Wordlessly, she held up two strings of white ribbon and grabbed Mark's right hand. He tried to say something as she laid his palms out flat and began wrapping one strand of the ribbon around his hand. However he came closer to making a sound that sounded a lot like a long, drawn out, "Um."

A smile tugged at the edge of Phoenix's lips as she continued to tie the ribbon around his hands, covering the knuckles. She did the same with his other hand, and when finished, picked up a pair of large, red, boxing gloves that had been conveniently sitting at the ground by Phoenix's feet.

"Go for it," she nodded towards the punching bag.

Mark eagerly stepped up to the punching bag, managing to contain his excitement for about a second, before he began to bop up and down on the balls of his feet. He kept his fists up, underneath his chin, but moved them around, his fists moved up and down, forwards and backwards. He seemed to be acting like a wrestler would, to hype himself up for a coming fight.

Mark lunged forward on his right foot with a battle cry, throwing his right arm forward with a determined and ferocious strike. His fists connected with the bag, and he stopped, still stuck in the position with his fist against the bag, and left arm still curled into a fist underneath his chin.

Mark's mouth dropped open, and a horrible trembling noise emerged. "Ow," he winced quietly.

Phoenix ran to his side as his fist slid down from the punching bag as he fell onto his knees and laid himself down on the ground. Phoenix seemed worried as she removed the glove and inspected Mark's hand to assess the damage.

Leaning forward she held Mark's hand in her own and using her thumb, rubbed against the knuckles on his hand, gently, but with enough force to check that his bones were still intact. Sighing, in what seemed like relief, she stood up, looking down on Mark with her hands on her hips.

"Big knuckles first," Mark attempted a joke, to which Phoenix responded with an annoyed scoff.

"One of the most key points when it comes to any punch," Phoenix shook her head, mouth tightened like she has just sucked about three lemons. "You did exactly the opposite of what I told you to. You could've seriously hurt yourself you know."

"You told me to angle my fist, and not punch flat," Mark argued, sitting up from his position on the ground he threw his arms out and angled his palms out towards the sky. "I think you'll find I did in fact obey your orders Captain Crunch."

Phoenix shook her head, but lent forward, hand outstretched to help Mark to his feet. As she pulled him to his feet, she began her lecture. "I told you to angle your punch so you would be putting less pressure on your smaller knuckles. Instead you angled them the wrong way, and put more pressure on your smaller knuckles."

Shrugging dismissively, Mark spoke. "Well you weren't exactly clear in your instructions were you?"

Phoenix gave him a flat look as she picked up the boxing gloves from the ground. "My instructions were perfectly clear," she snapped bitterly. A second of silence passed, before Phoenix threw the glove, which hit Mark in the face. "Again. Try not to hurt yourself this time."

Mark looked Phoenix up and down. He wasn't sure why, why all of a sudden he decided that Phoenix was no longer a threat. All he knew was that any fear he had for her had someone how completely vanished, and everything he could remember Heather saying, he knew was a flat out lie.

He smiled at her, thinking only about putting away some of the curiosity bubbling inside of him. "Since when do you care?" he asked her, looking at her sideways as put on the boxing glove and tied the strap around his wrist.

"I've always cared," Phoenix murmured under her breath, and refused to look at Mark, but he heard her loud and clear regardless. He stared at her, no longer smiling, but his gaze was not filled with hatred. Mark looked at Phoenix, a stare of pleasant surprise was spread across his face, and he made no attempt to hide it.

Phoenix looked at him, seeing the expression in his eyes and turned away quickly. She cleared her throat before speaking, "Again," she repeated her earlier command, but with a softer tone of voice than she had used previously. "When you've done enough Jabs properly, I'll show you how to do Crosses."

Mark nodded and remembering everything Phoenix had told him, he stepped up to the punching bag and practised his Jabs, delivering each punch more fluidly than the one before it. As promised, Phoenix showed him how to do Crosses after a minute or two. Mark found it easier once he had learnt both techniques, and optimised both hands when delivering hits to the bag.

As he continued working at the bag, what he was doing became muscle memory, and no longer had to think about what he was going to do before he delivered each punch, it came to him easily. While continuing his workout, he became involved in an intense internal debate.

Heather had been wrong, Phoenix wasn't all that bad, and she certainly wasn't trying to manipulate them. However Heather was more or less the unofficially nominated leader of The Experiments, usually it fell to her to speak for the group. She was the most opinionated about the issue of Phoenix, and there was no chance of her forgiving Phoenix for her actions, or accepting that she wasn't the monster that Heather thought she was.

If Mark suddenly went to his only four friends in the entire world, the only people who understood, and told them about Phoenix suddenly developing into a decent human being, they wouldn't believe him. He couldn't afford to lose them, he couldn't stand being cast aside, not again. Phoenix wasn't exactly 'friend' material, and Mark wouldn't be able to stand having her as the only person he could talk to.

Mark made a decision, a choice that sprouted a horrible sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he knew he would regret it, but he was not going to be the reject. For another half hour, Mark used the horrid feeling of regret as an energy source, working it off by attacking the punching bag in front of him.

He kept at it, and after a while felt the strain developing in his upper arms, within another ten minutes it spread to the rest of his body and he felt himself burning all over. It took mental willpower he didn't even know he had, just to lift one arm and hit the bag.

Phoenix saw Mark struggling and held a hand up for him to stop. "You need a break?" She asked.

He managed to make sounds that resembled a wheezy yes. He took one step towards the benches at the edge of the gym, and that was enough. His knees gave way and he toppled forward, something may well have just grabbed him by his ankles and pulled because there wasn't even any hesitation as he hit the ground.

Phoenix saw him fall and paused for a minute as Mark tried to pull himself up. She realised that he had been completely drained of strength and offered a hand. She pulled him to his feet in a swift motion and placed one of his arms around her shoulders and put her arm around his midsection, aiding him in his failed attempt to walk.

"You should've told me you were struggling," oddly enough Phoenix's tone of voice wasn't scolding, she sounded more concerned than anything else. Except Mark had never seen any emotion closely regarding concern present in Phoenix before. So maybe it was just his exhausted mind playing tricks on him.

"I thought that if I tried to walk away you might punch me in the face," he wheezed out an answer and decided to be honest instead of making something up. Phoenix would probably be able to tell if he was lying.

He felt Phoenix hesitate beside him and suddenly hoped that she wouldn't hit him in the face for that answer. "I wouldn't..." She stopped herself mid-sentence and changed her approach. "I'm trying to help you improve, not push you so hard that you collapse."

Mark was at a loss for a witty remark to those words. That same tone of voice she had used earlier was present again. Was Phoenix actually concerned for him? The common belief was that Phoenix didn't understand normal human emotions. So what the hell was this then?

They reached the benches at the edge of the training room and Mark threw himself down into a sitting position and very eagerly accepted the drink bottle handed to him from Phoenix. She sat down next to him, but at a distance away from him as well. There was about a metre of space between them on the seat.

Mark watched Phoenix as he downed the water. She examined her fingernails, obviously with nothing else to do while she waited for Mark. He noticed that a couple of her fingernails were broken, a few of them were scratched as well. However he noticed something else as he observed her hands.

Her fingers curved at almost unnoticeable angles, a couple of them pointed left or right when they shouldn't have, mostly they were curved at the tips of her fingers where the final joints were. Mark looked down at his own hands, and it was like looking in a mirror.

"Your fingers have been broken before," Mark put the water bottle down beside him and leaned forward, elbows on his upper legs and hands clasped in front of him. He turned his head to look Phoenix in the face, and slid down the bench, closer to her. "But they were never set properly."

Phoenix looked at her fingers and closing her eyes, she nodded one before opening them again. "Most of them are from when I were younger," she held her hands out in front of her as she talked, while focusing her eyes on her hands, it was obvious that she was addressing Mark. "They could've been set properly of course, but they were left like this as a reminder."

Phoenix left her explanation with no finish, and the sentence felt like she had cut off the tail of it, never actually reaching the point of her discussion. The dead silence felt like a knife hanging over his head, so Mark opened his mouth to speak. "A reminder of what?" he asked quietly, and attempted to make eye contact.

Phoenix did not look at him, and continued to stare at her fingers. She didn't seem like she was going to answer, until she let her arms drop to her side and turned away from Mark. "A reminder not to disobey," she answered, talking clearly amidst the grated edge to her voice.

Mark really should've turned around and walked away, but he didn't. He slid further down the seat until he was sitting right next to Phoenix, their legs nearly touching. Phoenix realised he had moved closer and turned around to finally look him in the eye.

They maintained contact for what felt like a minute but was really just several seconds. Mark held his hand up out in front of the both of them. "My hands are the same," he told her. "They're not right, and they bend at awkward angles, but that's not why I feel like shit when I look at them."

Phoenix spent a long time looking at his hand, but kept stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye. She seemed to have a vague sense of what Mark was about to tell her, and didn't look surprised when he finally broke through the silence.

"Every time I look at my hands, and think about how messed up my fingers look," he used his other hand to point a trembling finger at his hand to enunciate what he was saying. "Every time I look at them, all I see is the hammer coming down on me, and all I hear are the screams."

Phoenix rabidly began blinking her eyes, and nodded slowly. When she realised that she was too close to Mark than she was comfortable, she slid away from him, and shrunk her neck into her shoulders. Mark waited until she straightened up and took a deep breath.

Before he could say something to her, an apology or anything really, she spoke first. "People are going to be awake soon I should probably go back to my room," her voice was monotone and emotionless, almost robotic.

"Yeah, probably a good idea," Mark rubbed the back of his neck, hesitant on how he was supposed to tell her what he wanted to say. "Listen Phoenix, I don't think it's such a good idea if we…"

"Talk to each other," Phoenix finished his sentence for him, and when he looked away from her, physically unable to look him in the eye, Phoenix nodded, a small, painful, smile moved across her lips. "I understand. You don't want them to treat you like they treat me."

"Phoenix I don't mean it like that," Mark felt terrible, the sick feeling he had tried so hard to expel returned, twice as worse as it had been before. Phoenix murmured that it was ok as moved further away from him down the seat, and the sick feeling bubbled into an ache of self-hatred.

"Those kids are just walking stereotypes Phoenix, they don't mean all that much, and they're not as special as they think they are," Mark was fuming as he bitterly spat the words, realising some of his anger as he ranted. "Bella is nothing more than a sweet little la-di-da artsy girl who uses shyness to hide her viciousness. Sam is a walking boulder who does more punching than he does speaking, and does more speaking than he does independent thinking. Josh is just a jerk with a Napoléon complex and Heather is a Queen Bee who isn't satisfied unless she has a group of ditzy minions catering to her every cruel whim, and makes other people feel like crap just so she can feel a little bit better about her own disgusting self."

"But they're more or less your only friends," Phoenix didn't even skip a beat between Mark's angry rant, and talked straight away, perfectly summing it up into one sentence. "And you don't want to jeopardize that." Phoenix rose to her feet, nodding in perfect understanding.

Mark leapt to his feet as well, and stood in front of her before she had a chance to walk away. "I wanna do this again," he told her hurriedly. "This practise thing, it's good, I kind of actually enjoyed it a bit. We'd have to do it in secret though."

"Of course," Phoenix agreed immediately. "We'd have to do it when no one would catch us. Do you wanna meet here at the same time tomorrow?"

"I'd rather not, I'm not usually functional until about 10 in the morning."

"11PM tomorrow night then?"

"Perfect."

Phoenix nodded eagerly, and the both of them shared a brief smile, stood in front of each other in the large empty space of the gymnasium. They broke away from each other's gaze when a blaring alarm erupted from all around them, sounding a lot like a danger warning.

"The intruder alarm!" Phoenix exclaimed as she looked around her, panicked. "Natasha. Clint." She reached out and grabbed Mark's hands. "Take the elevator upstairs and gather all The Experiments together. Tell them that there's an intruder and make sure you stay together."

Phoenix let go of his hands and sped off towards a door located small distance away from the elevator. "What about you?" Mark shouted after her.

"I'm taking the stairwell to go find everyone else!" she shouted back to him as her hand grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door open. Phoenix looked back at Mark, still stood in the same spot. "Go! Find the Experiments and keep them safe!"

He nodded, and used his speed to reach the elevator door in a second, while Phoenix began racing up the stairs. There was an intruder in the Tower, and Phoenix had to find Natasha and Clint.