Chapter 4

"Chief, we've apprehended the patient."

"Good. Bring him back now," came the Chief's voice into her ear. Dr. Narayanan and a group of other doctors had been scouring the campus for hours. They finally found him in the administrative building with the President of the university's secretary Galia.

The look on its face when he saw them through the transparent glass walls was heartbreaking, like a prisoner whose time talking through a window was up. As the group of doctors pushed through the doors, he just clutched the long coat around him and put a dignified expression on his face. He allowed Dr. McCoy to restrain him and lead him out.

Galia looked confused.

"What just happened, Dr. Narayanan?"

"We don't know if that thing is a terrorist or an assassin. He also needs medical attention immediately. That's all you need to know."

The secretary didn't look satisfied with this answer.

"You really don't have anything to worry about, Galia," she added. "If it's clean, then we'll release it and it can do whatever it wants, and by the looks of things, it'll want to come back here."

"It has a name. Kurt Wagner, and a gender. He's a perfectly safe, good person."

"Duly noted, Galia. Have a good day."

She wouldn't answer. Abhinaya hated this part of her job. Sure, there were rewarding aspects to working at a superhero hospital. But it was hard to disassociate human needs and emotions from a tall, lanky, furry, blue anthropomorphous being. It certainly had a handsome human face, and apparently a gender, according to Galia. And Abhinaya was one of the few employees at the university, being one of the few females, that was in the know—the know that Galia was not just made of typing and organizing. Galia had graduated with high honors from a prestigious California university, majoring in Biological engineering. Thus, she was perfectly qualified to judge biological aspects about the blue creature. Abhi had always been amused by how the females at Stark University were always the top in their field, the most successful, and the most beautiful. Even Abhi, with her thick, wavy black hair and large dark brown doe eyes with long lashes, had been complimented by a blushing male student while he was on the gurney, of all times to pay compliments to a lady. While she had never had to treat the few female professors, she had heard plenty about them from various patients who passed through the halls of her hospital.

The blue creature didn't indicate if he could understand what Dr. McCoy was saying to him. He just stared blankly ahead, the metal parts of his body clanking as he walked lankily back to the hospital. From their experience in the operating room, Abhi and McCoy were both fully aware that this thing could get away if he wanted to in a rapid flash of foul-smelling black smoke. The very fact that he didn't caused McCoy to exercise a measure of leniency.

"We're just going to run some tests on you. Do you understand English?"

The blue thing blinked and nodded.

"Do you have a name?"

"Kurt Wagner," the creature said in a thick German accent.

"Mr. Wagner, we're just going to run some tests, examine your DNA, and make sure you're alright. It seems that your body is accepting the changes," McCoy said, keeping a hand clasped around Kurt's muscular upper arm. "This armor is made of adamantium, and is therefore indestructible. However, that doesn't mean you're allowed to crash about like an oaf and throw yourself into trouble. Your body is only part Iron Man armor and the exposed human parts are still susceptible to damage."

Out of the corner of her eye, Abhi saw Kurt pull the coat more firmly over his crotch.

"Dr. McCoy, the first order of business is to find the patient some clothes."

Ellie tried to make sense of the pictures of the Nazi swastika that stared back at her from her desk but her mind was unusually elsewhere. Everything brought back thoughts on that rakish-looking scoundrel who had recently been recruited to status of one of her work colleagues. Because she was a woman of strict routine, schedule, and rules—she even took a shower at the same time every day—she highly disliked this man's lackadaisical manner and apparent arrogance, as well as his probably unjustified confidence in his ability to be charming. Yet there was something really charismatic about the way he captivated her. It was almost as if he was controlling her attentions. Ellie absolutely hated the feeling.

There was no doubt that he was attractive. Remy LeBeau was attractive in the way all rogues were attractive—he had an animal magnetism that made her lose her inhibitions and want to strip him of his clothes and see if he actually was human beneath all the superhero hype that surrounded him. Remy LeBeau certainly didn't have the appearance of someone who could detonate anything with the sheer kinetic energy contained in his body, as well as the ability to charge everything with a force that would cause it to be ripped apart in an explosion of unimaginable magnitude. Not to mention her history with men in trench coats was less than stellar. Images of a tall, dashing Asian man in a black trench coat flashed through her mind, and her chest pounded briefly as if someone had tugged on her heart. It had been years since Ellie had relinquished any emotionality in her person in favor of herculean work ethic and steel-cold logic, but deep down she knew that she could keep telling herself that all she was feeling was hormones and it meant nothing—in the end, it still didn't feel all that great. She'd had enough heartbreak from roguish super humans.

Ellie couldn't help but heave a sigh. Ever since her promiscuous days during her teens, she had taken a solemn vow of celibacy, dedicating her energy to her work as opposed to maintaining relationships. For her first year of college, she had focused so much on doing well that she had only one friend, and that was because she had been required to work with this person for a project for one of her language classes. After the school year ended, she halted any effort to keep talking to this person, and their friendship had decayed into a bitter mutual avoidance.

Ever since she had met Kathleen, her life attitude had been slowly changing. Instead of ignoring human contact and shying away from public functions, she made an effort—a small one, but an effort nonetheless—to go to faculty mixers and receptions and dinners and to maintain relationships with people she met. It definitely helped that Kathleen was always there with her, for if her friend was not there, she became a wallflower. It was like she was eight years-old all over again.

As much as she respected and appreciated Kathleen, her tendency to push Ellie toward men, especially Remy LeBeau, was unsettling. It wasn't that she didn't want to be in a relationship. It was more like she didn't want to be in a relationship for love. Her love had always been based on a man's qualifications—in other words, if he was a good candidate for mating, then she loved him for it. Even though Kathleen seemed to be unfazed my Ellie's strange, scientific approach to intimate relationships, their attitudes toward men were very different. But if there was one thing Ellie had learned her whole life, it was that the best friendships are based on differences, not similarities.

Stephanie, genius biologist, was working as an event planner for the Stark University Board of Trustees while lingering in the void between promotion and resignation. For someone in her situation, she had to keep a low profile, and climbing too high in the hierarchy would put a spotlight on her that wouldn't be ideal.

But planning a reception for the Director of the Iron Man Unit was like rapidly scraping a cheese grater against her forehead. Her IQ and her skills as a biologist, not to mention other things, were going completely to waste in this position. But for now there was nothing she could do except order more bottles of champagne, find a venue, and send out invitations.

She did an excellent job of hiding her frustration. Her job paid very well, and it was good for networking, but she couldn't help feeling like her life was going nowhere. Stephanie walked toward the Administrative building while typing out an invitation email that she would mass-send. Not only was she severely underused, but also she was quite abused. She'd have to thank Galia later for notifying her only a few hours in advance about the Director's arrival.

"Galia!"

The President's secretary jerked out of her work-induced reverie.

"Oh, hello, Stephanie."

"Why do I get a few hours to plan a reception for the most important man in the Iron Man Unit? Why is he coming?"

"You know that's confidential," Galia said apologetically as she continued typing. Stephanie pressed the send button on her phone, waiting for the ping to come from Galia's computer that notified her of a new email.

"An email invitation? Classy."

"Yeah, thank you so much for giving me about three hours notice. I think I deserve to know why the Director's coming," Stephanie said, examining her nails casually. "It takes a lot to bring him out of D.C."

Galia sighed. The two women often commiserated on their tough jobs, and she had done enough background checks on Stephanie to know that she wasn't a threat. She was just a harmless event planner that was very over-qualified for her job. Seemingly.

"I really would like to, but I can't tell you," Galia said. She lowered her voice. "Apparently…trouble."

"What?"

"I don't know," Galia replied. "But apparently it's really bad. All the professors got memos about it."

"Like bad how?"

"That's enough."

The President's door had been flung open. President Volker stood in the doorway, glaring at his secretary. Stephanie had only ever seen him from a distance, and had never realized how tall and white this man looked. His bright blue eyes blazed angrily as he stared daggers at Galia.

"Galia, you're coming with me to meet the Director at the reception."

And without another word, he disappeared back in his office. Galia gave Stephanie a regretful curve of her pink lips. "I guess I'll be seeing you tonight."

Saying goodbye to her fellow underappreciated, overworked colleague, she left through the large glass doors. As she exited the building, two women entered. Perhaps it was the fact that female sightings were so uncommon on campus. But that was the superficial reason for why Stephanie couldn't help but stop as these two women passed and take a good look at them. There was something in the disposition of the smaller, Asian one—something dangerous that gave her goose bumps. At first glance, her small face was expressionless; but on closer inspection, Stephanie saw something as chilling as ice chips in her warm brown eyes. She wore tight black pants, a loose, pirate-style white shirt. The Asian woman didn't look evil, but there was something about the way she carried herself that put Stephanie on her guard.

Her companion, who towered over her, was a bombshell of a woman, so gorgeous that Stephanie, who was as straight as a heterosexual person could get, had to admit this woman seemed to be too pretty to be on a campus of war-hardened veterans-turned-professors and armored soldiers in training. Her perfectly styled hair billowed behind her as she entered Galia's office. She wore tight, dark-wash skinny jeans and knee-high black boots, not to mention two thigh holsters that both held guns a la Lara Croft. Over a bright red tanktop, she wore a black leather jacket that barely hid another gun, a .44 magnum holstered on her left. This woman turned back to look at Stephanie and raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow, as if to say, "What are you lookin' at?"

Stephanie turned away and started heading toward the Fury Hall, where the reception would be held. She didn't have time to stare at intimidating, strange women who seemed out of place, not that she herself really belonged on campus. All around her students, mostly male with perhaps one in fifty being female, studied vigorously, noses buried in their books. Occasionally one would look up as she walked by, puzzled by the presence of a female who wasn't between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, but quickly turned back to their notes or to practicing whatever hand-to-hand combat they had learned that day. At the moment, seeing these young faces hard at work, she couldn't remember why she was there. Stark University was a fortress, with a faculty of the best experts in their respective fields, not to mention an army of young Iron Men-in-training who, from the very moment they stepped on campus, were prepared for combat. It was obvious that she wasn't needed there, but a vague hunch at the back of her mind prompted her to stay in her job that basically entailed that she plan parties. A biologist who graduated at the top of her class from UC Berkeley, had an IQ that could probably bend spoons, and she wasn't even needed. Her skills were being wasted, but there was nothing she could do about it except acquire bottles of champagne and hire a string quartet for the reception.

To some people, he was just James Rhodes. To others, he was James Rhodes, Director of the Iron Man Unit, War Machine, and Iron Man's best friend in terms of being armored superheroes. And to Tony Stark, the main benefactor and original Iron Man, he was "Rhodey," a close friend, and one of the few men in the world he would trust to be the Director of the world's Iron Men.

It kind of pained him that a man of his rank and power had to resort to suspending one of his officers in a crowded, public setting so as to avoid her wrath. He was not immune to Elizabeth Chau's powers of intimidation even though he was her superior, but he knew that she was too logical to create a public scene.

James even felt a little bad that the University was throwing him such a lavish reception when all he had come to do was suspend somebody. The week before, his office had received an anonymous communiqué detailing Professor Chau's relations to the Asia Unified Organized Crime Syndicate, including a thorough report of her business—and carnal—relation with its leader Ja Fahr. Elizabeth, whose AUOCS code name was Hong Bai Lan for her American citizenship, which meant literally "Red White Blue," had been ordered by Ja to kill an alleged informant from the Mahmoud Ahmed terrorist group. It made too much sense that the terrorist happened to be out of the AUOCS's jurisdiction, and Elizabeth was definitely brilliant enough to find a way to hit her mark while making it seem like self-defense. However, it seemed she hadn't counted on someone ratting on her. It seemed like her colleagues felt she had become too Americanized, and if they didn't rat her out, then Mahmoud Ahmed had every reason to turn her in. This short, little woman had put so many people away; she had a number of enemies who could have sent that communiqué. And it had always been Rhodey's policy to get rid of the risk first, and investigate later.

The pasty-faced president of Stark University walked up to him.

"Hello, Mr. Director. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, Mr. Volker. I haven't seen you since…"

"Since the opening of the university, sir."

"Right."

There were a few more awkward seconds before Volker spoke again.

"So I hear that you're in Los Angeles for urgent business?"

"Yes, you heard right. Urgent."

"When do you intend to, uh, attend to this business?"

James looked at this man. Was he a glutton for gossip like a man with ovaries? Why was he asking questions—irrelevant questions—that he probably knew James wouldn't answer? How did this ninny become the president? Tony better not have handpicked this dumbass, Rhodey thought to himself. Knowing Tony, he added to himself, he probably did. At the moment Volker expected him to answer (or rather inform him that he wasn't going to reveal the details), a beautiful woman approached them, carrying a clipboard and typing something quickly on her smart phone. She had short, caramel-blonde hair and wore a simple, yet stylish purple dress that flattered her curvy figure. This woman almost looked like a modern Maria from The Sound of Music. It always surprised James to find that such attractive women worked at Stark University.

"Mr. Volker, I've just confirmed your meeting with the Board on Sunday and you have a scheduled flight to Langley on Wednesday."

"Yes, thank you, Galia," Volker said impatiently. "Mr. Director, this is my secretary and-or assistant Galia. She is a very efficient worker, and aptly organizes so much about this university…however, if you ever wanted to call me, you can always call me directly instead of going through her. Galia, give the Director my direct contact information later."

Rhodey saw Galia visibly flinch from being called a "worker." This guy was obviously an ass-kissing idiot, but Galia treated him with what almost seemed like fear. It gave Rhodey the impression that behind the closed doors of his office, Volker was a cruel man, and that's how he obtained the position of President of the university.

"Yes, sir."

Rhodey watched with hidden disgust as Volker dismissed Galia like a slave. Tuning out the man's rambling for a few seconds, he watched as Galia joined another shorter woman in a slinky black dress near the punch bowl. The women laughed about something and didn't even try to hide the fact that they were looking over in his direction. Realizing Volker was still talking to him, he snapped back.

"What?"

"There are two of our other female employees, Professor Chau and Professor Mariona."

The little Asian certainly didn't appear dangerous. At first. While her companion strutted into the room, chattering away happily, Professor Chau stayed silent. Her black eyes flicked around the room quickly as she soaked in her surroundings. Her eyes lingered for only half a second on Rhodey. It was apparent she suspected nothing. Rhodey excused himself from the President, who showered him with praise one last time before approaching another group. Professor Mariona looked him straight in the face as he approached. Although she was wearing a hot pink number that potentially could literally cause a man to faint from desire or dislocate his jaw as it dropped, her gaze was not seductive—at least not intentionally. Her dress was so short that her gun and its holster were completely visible on her thigh. Smoothly she pulled the holster up while covering the top part with her dress. She sipped her champagne, still looking at Rhodey as she did so. Her unswerving gaze caused Professor Chau to turn around. The Asian woman wasn't drinking anything at all. Originally, Rhodey had planned to carefully let the woman down, glossing over the news carefully. He had spent hours on the plane ride from D.C. formulating what he was going to say. But from the look of the woman, the unreadable expression to the cocktail dress that appeared business-like from her attitude, to the way she stood with her high heels apart planted firmly on the ground, the downward tilt of her eyebrows, and the way she didn't blink once as he headed straight in her direction, Rhodey realized suddenly that a "ripping off the bandaid quickly" approach was more appropriate. She can take it, he thought to himself.

"Director," Professor Mariona greeted, raising her bubbling glass to him in salute. "What brings you out of D.C.?"

You're about to find out. Feeling slightly bad about ignoring the gorgeous woman, Rhodey addressed Professor Chau.

"Elizabeth Chau, you are hereby suspended for an undetermined amount of time from the Iron Man Unit based on accusations of murder of Mahmoud Adel and treason against your country. While the Iron Men have decided that arresting you and detaining you in federal prison is unnecessary, you are to be confined in the city of Santa Monica until your trial."

It seemed if Elizabeth had been holding a glass of champagne, she would've dropped it at that moment. Instead, Professor Mariona stared at the two of them in horror. Elizabeth's hands twitched; they were the only part of her that moved. Her eyes did not become glassy as he expected they would, but she did seem to be holding back a great deal of upset. Oh God please don't kill me, Rhodey thought desperately when he saw her eyes turn from blank to crazy in less than two shakes. But he was suddenly splashed with champagne from another direction. Mariona's glass had broken in her hands from squeezing it so hard. Her mouth was open slightly from surprise, her soft pink lips curved downward in dismay. After this brief distraction, he looked back in Elizabeth's direction but she was gone. He saw her striding toward the door, her right hand clenched in a visibly trembling fist.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Professor Mariona hissed angrily. "Do you feel clever, Mr. Director? I'm sure the boys back in D.C. will give you medal for avoiding a scene by breaking that shit at a public gathering. You just accused one the most patriotic women I know of treason. I'm sorry, Director, but if my champagne glass hadn't broken, I would throw it in your face right now."

Leaving a distinct air of fury behind her that made him fear for his life just as much as Professor Chau had, the woman left in a rapid clacking of heels. Rhodey had to take a moment to laugh at the situation. Of course Tony would build a university and find the hottest, most dangerous women to fill it. At the same time, he wondered where Tony was. It wasn't like him to miss a party. Satisfied that he hadn't disturbed the reception too much with his public dismissal of a highly esteemed employee, Rhodey resolved to slip away as soon as he could to find his best friend.

"Tony! Tony, open the gate, you son of a—"

Kathleen shook the front gate to Tony's mansion. Normally she would have taken the time to admire the scenic, gorgeous, breath-taking view that was the backdrop of Tony Stark's tasteful residence, but at the current moment she was occupied with fixing what seemed to be a horrible, horrible mistake. The broken, shocked look on Elizabeth's face when she heard she was suspended "for an undetermined amount of time" was much too honest for her to actually have committed the crime she was accused of. Elizabeth had just left the reception in a surprised silence, heading to her house—the only place Kathleen had ever known her to take refuge.

The first question that came to Kathleen's mind was why the hell Tony wasn't at the reception for one of the few men he genuinely trusted in the world. The second was how the hell Tony could let this happen. He got the reports, just like everyone else, so unless he just chucked them to the side without reading them (which, Kathleen thought snidely, he very possibly did do), he knew just like the rest of the Iron Man Unit that Elizabeth was the best intelligence analyst in all of the United States when it came to terrorism. There was no way Elizabeth would build up her success just to have it torn down by a little controversy. There was something deeper and more sinister running beneath all of this, and Kathleen needed Tony's help and connections to find out what was naggingly wrong about this situation. She shook the gate a little harder, as if it would do any good. She was still in the hot pink dress she had worn to the Director's reception—although she had years of experience scaling fences, there was no way she was climbing this one.

Kathleen was about to take out her gun and blast the lock off the door when a thin, meek figure started down the long driveway. It was Aldo Malvagio, Tony's mousey little assistant, carrying a clipboard and wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses that were way too large for his thin, olive-skinned face.

"May I help you, miss?"

"Let me in, I need to see Tony Stark."

"Is he expecting you?"

There was something annoyingly insecure about this guy, like he was trying to decide if actually letting her in would get him in trouble with his boss or not. Little did he know that Kathleen was about three seconds away from shooting him in the face if he did not.

"Could I have your name please?"

"Kathleen Mariona. Tony knows me."

"Mr. Stark," Aldo said, emphasizing the title as opposed to the first name, "knows you?"

"Yes. He would want to see me."

"Mr. Stark does not want to be disturbed," Aldo replied, then taking a slow, purposefully pointed looking at her hot pink dress and tall black heels, "and I don't think he hired a hooker."

Kathleen, not only insulted and infuriated by the mousey man's gall, was two blinks away from giving the guy a bullet between the eyes.

"Open the goddamn gate."

The stupid piece of shit hesitated. Kathleen's hand twitched as she steeled herself to reach for her gun, but a voice came across the front lawn that saved his life.

"It's alright, Aldo, let her in," Tony's voice rolled across the ground. Aldo opened the gate, and Kathleen pushed past him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something angry or annoyed flash across the lower part of his face—a brief clench of the lips, or a hardening of the jaw—but she was too far away from him and in a hurry to tell or really care.

Tony was at the bottom of a staircase, wearing a precarious looking towel around his waist, fluffing his hair with a smaller towel. It was obvious that he had just finished a shower; the skin of his bare chest had that clean, glowing quality.

"Kathleen, I saw you in my surveillance screens. How did you know how to get to my place?"

"Everyone knows how to get to Tony Stark's mansion," she said simply. The sight of him wearing only a towel made her temporarily forget why she had come, but the urgency of the mission brought her back to earth quickly. "I need you to help me have a face-to-face with the Director."

"You need me?" Tony repeated. The smirk on his face was insufferable yet adorable. His eyes drifted to her legs, and his blatant ogling didn't surprise Kathleen. But then she realized he was staring at the gun strapped to her leg, which had jerked out of its discreet hiding place while she hurried into his home and the hem of her already short dress had hiked up higher. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"That doesn't work in this situation. Tony, I need this. I need you to help me get Elizabeth's job back," Kathleen said. Her face was composed, but she could feel the pleading tone creep into her voice. She took a few steps closer to him so that she felt like they were on equal ground. Even though that couldn't be possible—he didn't have a shirt on and he looked wet.

He was quiet for a few seconds before he raised an eyebrow and said, "What's in it for me?"

She resisted the urge to punch him his naked, slightly wet body.

"If you help me try to get Elizabeth her job back, I won't shoot you in the knees," Kathleen replied. She looked and sounded serious. Tony started to look nervous.

"It really means that much to you, doesn't it?"

"It's not about me," Kathleen replied. "It's just wrong to can the Iron Men's chief intelligence officer. This is about the safety of the United States."

A third voice came from behind her. "That much of that kind of power in the wrong hands could be disastrous for this country."

James Rhodes stood at the top of the circular stairs that led to the basement, still wearing the military suit covered in stars and medals and honors in which she had seen him at the reception.

"Director," Kathleen saluted, her voice lowered to a distasteful growl.

"I do regret that I had to suspend your best friend, Professor Mariona, but it was for the safety of this country."

"You kids aren't at school anymore. First-name basis while you're at home," Tony said from the sidelines. "Kathleen, this is Rhodey. Rhodey, this is Kathleen."

"We've met," James said simply. "She was quite a hit at my reception, which you didn't go to."

"Hey, Rhodey, back off. I have dibs."

"I'm right here, Tony," Kathleen reminded him.

"But this is perfect. You wanted to talk to Rhodey, and he wanted to make sure you weren't out for his blood," Tony commented.

"Why don't you put some goddamn pants on," Rhodey suggested. "You take long showers, and I'm uncomfortable around you when you're naked."

It amused Kathleen to see the Director, who had appeared stoic and cold when delivering the suspension to Elizabeth, so agitated. But what Tony said next made her flustered, too.

"Kathleen has complete control over my pants. So what do you say—on or off?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Director rolls his eyes. Of course Tony Stark's oldest friend would be familiar with his flirtatious ways. Rhodey had been Tony's friend through his playboy days, through Pepper Potts, and now through whatever he was going through with Kathleen.

"Tony, just put some goddamn pants on," Rhodey said. He directed his attention to Kathleen. "Professor Mariona, your friend Elizabeth was accused of murder and acts of terrorism. The case built against her is very, very strong and very convincing. I'm afraid there's not much I can do to fight this."

"We both read the reports. I was there when she was poring over the report about the 'traitor' within the Iron Man Unit and she didn't think for a second that she could have been that person. That has to mean something, right?"

"That's highly likely because she probably thought she'd gotten away with it and they wouldn't suspect her."

"Elizabeth's smart, Rhodey," Tony chimed in. He had returned with pants and a loose T-shirt that had a little hole cut out in it for his miniature arc reactor. "She would've known that what she was doing, if she'd done it, was illegal. And I suspect that neurotic little Asian is probably pretty paranoid."

Kathleen could only nod. She knew Ellie way too well to deny that she was paranoid. In more cases than one, her paranoia had saved her a lot of trouble. But Rhodey focused on another part of what Tony said.

"What do you mean, 'if she'd done it'?"

Kathleen could feel her heart rate speed up. The calculating look on Tony's face betrayed his knowledge of the truth about the day the Mahmoud Ahmed terrorist was shot in class. Even though she'd wanted to talk to the Director to tell him the truth herself (because it would change everything), it kind of bothered her that Tony figured out something that Elizabeth and she had hid so well.

"I think Kathleen should tell you herself," Tony finally said. Looking at Kathleen, "I mean, that is the reason you wanted to talk to him right?"

"Sometimes I forget how smart you are."

"Even though I sometimes act like one, I'm not a dumbass."

"What the fuck is going on? What aren't you two telling me? If there's information relevant to this country's security, I need to know it now," Rhodey said impatiently.

She sighed, and prepared herself to reveal a secret that was bound to come out eventually.

"I shot the terrorist, not Ellie."

Rhodey looked absolutely stunned.

"Do you mean to tell me this country has a faulty record?" Rhodey said slowly. "I fired—."

"Suspended," Tony corrected.

"—The top intelligence analyst in the United States because of a dumbshit lie? Why the hell did you guys fake the reports? You exploited your credibility for personal gain!"

"Cool it, Rhodey. That's my girl you're yelling at."

"Tony, shut the fuck up. Professor Mariona, explain yourself."

"She changed the reports after the incident. Believe me, I didn't know about it until everything was filed and set in stone. She didn't want me to risk my job because I hadn't been granted tenure yet and hadn't earned my license to terminate. And she was completely sure that the student was a terrorist from the Mahmoud Ahmed. By the time I found out what she had done about the reports, fixing that tiny detail, which we both thought was unimportant, would've caused only damage."

"I don't understand—you had a room full of witnesses who saw you shoot this man, an alleged terrorist, and nobody questioned the report?"

"She had pointed the gun, but the bullet came from me. She never pulled a trigger. Everyone thought she had."

"And there weren't any surveillance cameras to confirm that she had—or hadn't—done this?"

"Nope," Tony answered. "I don't allow cameras to record my professors. There could be an undercover terrorist who gets his hands on what the country's leading security experts are teaching their best soldiers, and we would be screwed from behind before we even knew what went wrong."

The significance of the example he used was not lost on Rhodey. It made sense; Tony's anti-surveillance policy forces the terrorists to go under-cover as actual students, which were the easiest way to infiltrate the university. Everything that Tony and Kathleen were revealing supported the assertion that Elizabeth was, first of all, not a double agent for the AUCS, and as a result, not guilty of committing murder on United States soil.

"You know…you and Tony would make a good couple," Rhodey said with a hint of exasperation. "Both of y'all seem to be really good at making my life very difficult."

Rhodey then left them to go outside and make the necessary phone calls to reinstate Elizabeth at the university and within the Iron Men. Kathleen and Tony were left alone. She wanted to thank him. It wasn't until the Director left that Kathleen realized how Tony's presence had facilitated her confession. Hopefully there weren't going to be repercussions. When she turned to face him, she saw him staring at her legs again.

"Your dress is riding up," he pointed out matter-of-factly. Her head snapped down to see that her hot pink dress was riding up, so much so that her gun was fully visible. Even though nothing inappropriate was showing, Kathleen suddenly felt hot under her skin. A strange twisty feeling developed in her abdomen as she pulled her dress down. Although her legs were covered more, her whole dress had been pulled down, and the top swell of her breasts bulged slightly in a very Jessica Rabbit style. This didn't escape Tony's notice at all—she saw his eyes flick upwards from her legs, and his pupils dilate rapidly. The hot feeling under her skin only intensified. They both jumped in surprise when Rhodey returned noisily.

"Y'all are coming since you made this trouble for me," he said exasperatedly.

Remy had heard the news as it circulated slowly and discreetly among the staff of Stark University. Elizabeth, Chair of the Intelligence and Interrogation department, squeaky-clean record and history of success in her area of expertise, was being suspended for moral misconduct and high treason. Bullshit was the first word that came to mind. Without thinking, he headed over to the parking garage, revved his motorcycle into movement, and sped down the campus road toward the exit. He didn't know for sure if Elizabeth had gone home, but that was the first place he was going to look.

He imagined the respectable people who were Elizabeth's neighbors wouldn't appreciate the roar of his motorcycle as it nearly screamed down their street. But he couldn't care less. He could apologize for embarrassing her later. As he pulled his beloved motorcycle to a gentle stop outside of Elizabeth's house, he saw one of her neighbors, a young woman with platinum blonde hair, look up from the planter of flowers she was watering, her bright blue eyes following him even as he dismounted from his bike and headed up to Elizabeth's door.

After a brisk knock and a ring, the door slowly opened. Elizabeth stood there, not wearing a black tailored suit or pumps, carrying a briefcase with her hair in a high ponytail, but in a black and red kimono (an unbelted, open black and red kimono) with what looked like a black negligee and red shorts under it. With one hand she held the heavy oak door open while her other hand was balancing a bowl of chocolate pudding. A spoon hung out of her mouth, and her eyes, while dry and wide with surprise, were ringed with black eyeliner that had run down her face in tracks as if she'd been crying. Looking past her into the house, Remy could see a whole spread of foods on her coffee table in front of the television.

"Having a party, ma cher?" he asked. "And you didn't invite me?" His broad hand pushed the door open wider. She let go, and took the spoon out of her mouth.

"I'm not an Iron Man anymore. I don't have to represent them—you, anymore…what are you doing here?"

"Don't I get a 'hello, Remy'?"

She only stared at him.

"I heard about your suspension."

Elizabeth sighed. "Come in."

He entered at her bidding. The inside of her house was dimly lit. Most of her furniture was very classic. Her dinner table was small, and there was a messy mountain of papers on it. A large Chinese ink painting hung on the opaque, dark brown wall, and upon closer inspection, Remy saw that there were actually a lot of a Chinese fengshui enhancers dotting her house. A medium-sized jade happy Buddha was perched on a counter in her kitchen, and while normally a huge statue of a fat, dark green Asian guy with long, drooping earlobes would be incredibly tacky, this particular Buddha was subtle and appropriate. A movie was playing on her television—True Lies. It was the scene where Helen was doing a striptease for Harry who she believed was actually a criminal arms dealer.

"So the news spread that quickly, did it?"

Remy just shrugged. He trained his eyes on her and didn't say anything for several long seconds.

"What?"

"I just didn't pin you as the kimono-night-slip-pudding type."

"I'm allowed to act however I want when I've been fired."

"Suspended."

"I may as well have been fired. 'Moral and legal misconduct.' "

"Elizabeth—"

"Don't," she interrupted, setting her bowl of pudding on the coffee table. "I don't want pity. If I made a mistake, I need to face the consequences. No matter how questionable the circumstances."

"So you think it's a load of crap, too?"

She didn't answer his question.

"At least the Director didn't put you in federal prison…from what the report said, what you did was nothing less than cold-blooded murder. That's not even taking the treason into account."

Remy avoided eye-contact with her, knowing that it would just provoke her more than he already was, and he'd probably end up dead, and somehow Elizabeth would find a way to transport him to ancient Rome and he'd end up in some random mass burial or as a human sacrifice to the mighty god Ra in ancient Egypt. At the very least, though, he expected her to defend her actions with mind-blowing logic, so he was a little surprised when she didn't immediately say anything vehemently. After a few silent seconds, he looked at her.

"I didn't do it," she said so softly that he was unsure that she had said anything at all. Remy stared at her intently, but she refused to look at him and instead spooned a huge blob of pudding into her mouth. It was apparent she wasn't going to say anything to elaborate on the matter.

"Do you have some sort of nickname I can call you? 'Elizabeth' is a bit of a mouthful for a Cajun like me."

"If you can't say the name, then maybe you shouldn't talk to me."

It was a snippy yet logical reply.

"I think I'll call you 'Lizzie.' It fits you."

"Remy, I'm not a pet you can name."

"Au contraire, ma cher."

Suddenly he was slammed against the back of her couch. His knees bent over the side of the soft sofa, the cushions of which molded into the back of his legs and made his body bend at an even more unnatural angle. Elizabeth stood over him, her arm extended to his neck, where she clasped the pressure points of his throat. In spite of the dangerous situation he was in, he couldn't help but notice that her knee, which was bent forward to give her more balance, was slightly touching his groin.

"Don't you think this is a bit of an overreaction?" he asked, raising his hands in surrender.

"Don't you think you should learn to respect women?"

"Actually, I respect you quite a bit more than other women."

Her face was a stony mask of barely-veiled dislike, but after a few seconds and a clench of her lips, she let go of him. He rubbed his suddenly sore neck muscles as he straightened.

"Pressure points. I'd expect that from you, not kimonos."

"If not this, then what? What do you expect me to wear when I'm at home?"

In Remy's fantastic mind, he actually imagined her in barely-there underwear, and at times nothing at all. However, he didn't want to risk getting the blood flow cut off from his brain again.

"And it's not a kimono. Get your Asian ethnicities right," she added when he didn't say anything. "Kathleen wears a kimono. My mom wears a kimono. These are just unbuttoned Chinese-style pajamas."

"Why are you getting so upset because I goofed up what type of night-wear you've got on, eh?" he asked. "It doesn't seem very logical. I know you're all about logic."

"Because the difference between a kimono and Chinese seoi yi is the difference between mere aesthetics and inner balance," she snapped. Elizabeth was getting visibly annoyed. "Besides, I'm Chinese. I don't feel comfortable wearing Japanese clothing. I wouldn't expect a white boy like you to understand."

"White boy?" Remy sputtered. "Excuse me, mademoiselle, I'll have you know—"

But he was interrupted by a light cough from the direction of the door. Kathleen, Tony, and the Director were standing there, all three with wide eyes.

They had decided to cut time by taking Rhodey's official looking military escort into Elizabeth's sleepy neighborhood. An unfamiliar motorcycle was parked outside. As Tony was about to ring the doorbell, Kathleen grabbed his wrist.

"She doesn't like doorbells. She never answers them."

"Then how do we get in?" Rhodey asked.

"I have a key," Kathleen answered, rummaging in her purse for her key ring. A jingle of her keys later, the door was open and they were stepping inside Ellie's house. The first impression Kathleen got was that nobody was home. Then she noticed that only a few lights were on, and that Ellie was not alone. Remy was standing only a few feet from her, wearing his usual trench coat, which was actually rippling with his anger and power. Even though his face only showed anger, more than anger was coming off him in waves. His face was steadily turning red, but not an angry red…it was the thick red of arousal. Kathleen attributed it partly to the fact that Ellie was wearing next to nothing.

Tony decided this was the most opportune moment to cough lightly but loud enough for them to hear. Their anger seemed to snap and dissipate immediately.

"So have you decided she's too dangerous to leave out on the streets?" Remy demanded coldly. Rhodey raised an eyebrow at his vicious verbal swipe.

"Elizabeth Chau, first I need to apologize for a grave mistake…"

Kathleen watched silently with arms crossed as Rhodey recited a formal speech outlining how the United States government had been wrong and how everything was going to be fixed. Ellie's face changed for a second from blank resignation to elatedness but reverted back to a neutral face as she shook Rhodey's hand.

"You are hereby reinstated at Stark University. Once again, I can't express how sorry we are for this mistake."

Kathleen knew that normally Ellie would've cut him off. But the day had been so emotionally toiling that she just let Rhodey talk. When Rhodey was done, they were ready to leave. Rhodey and Tony marched out the door with Remy trailing behind them. Only Kathleen was left.

"You told them."

It wasn't an accusation. Kathleen could only shrug.

"Tony figured it out. Apparently he doesn't just throw files away without reading them."

"He's smarter than we first thought."

Kathleen laughed.

"Thank you, Kathleen," Ellie said.

"If that hadn't worked, I would've asked Galia to pull up the file and the surveillance footage anyway. We were lucky that Tony was smart enough to figure it out."

As the men waited for Kathleen to come out, Remy went to call Galia at President Volker's office to let her know that the Director of the Iron Man Unit had formally given Elizabeth her job back.

"Your friend has got a thing for that Asian chick," Rhodey said out of the blue.

"Yes," Tony replied. He felt no obligation to hide anything about Elizabeth and Remy's strange budding relationship.

"If I hadn't given Elizabeth her job back, he probably would've blown my head up."

"Mmmmhm."

"….Interesting."

Although Tony was glad Remy seemed to have made some sort of progress of getting closer to Elizabeth, he had his own personal desires to attend to. And they were walking through the door in a tight pink dress.