Chapter Two
The coffee burned her tongue, but Alice didn't even look up from her book as she took a sip and set it down. The lab was quiet, nothing but the soft humming of machines and the occasional swish of fabric as Bruce moved from one instrument to another. It was why she liked studying here. The only distraction was Bruce and, (even though after nearly two years she still found him very distracting) he was really good at keeping her on task. She hadn't even realized that she was staring at him, watching him tap some algorithm on the semi-transparent screen, until he spoke.
"Need me to quiz you?"
She frowned at him. He didn't look up from the screen he was tapping on, but he smirked as if he could feel her irritation. She sighed and sat back with her coffee.
"Hit me."
He adjusted his glasses on his nose and squinted at the information scrolling across his screen. "Where are we, pulmonary?"
"Vasculitis."
"Ah," he said, shoving a hand through his hair and tapping a few times on his screen. A graph popped up and he manipulated some of the data. "Okay. Patient with a diagnosis of polyarteritis nodosa. What are the clinical signs consistent with the diagnosis?"
Crap. Alice took another sip of her coffee, playing for time.
"Um," she said, trying to see the answer in her head, "Hypertension." Bruce nodded, turning to a notebook on the table in front of him and making a note. "Chest pain. Neuro...no, peripheral neuropathy, and...um..."
She stalled out. She couldn't think of the last one. It was hemo-something, she just couldn't-
"Need a hint?" Bruce was looking at her now, smiling sympathetically. She clenched her teeth.
"No, I got it," she said, regretting that she sounded so frustrated, "It's, um, hemoptysis, right?"
She could tell right away that was wrong. It was the little furrow between his eyes, the way his smile faltered just for a second.
"Hematochezia," he corrected.
Alice groaned and dropped her head down onto her open book.
"Crap, I knew it was something like that," she mumbled, "It was right there, on the tip of my tongue, my brain just didn't want to...brain."
"The brain needs adequate recuperation to operate at maximum capacity," Bruce said, poking at his screen again, calling up a few whirling images and graphs, "You didn't sleep well last night."
"I slept okay," Alice protested.
Bruce gave her a look over his glasses and she shifted in her seat.
"I had a bad dream, that's all." She waved at the screen in front of him. "All this Chitauri scepter stuff, it just... You know?"
God, she was the queen of articulation and poise today, wasn't she? But Bruce only nodded, staring at his screen, at the numbers running in precise columns around the image of the scepter rotating in the center.
"Yeah, I know," he said, flicking the picture away, "I thought we were done with this too."
"Does it ever feel like-?" She cut herself off, but Bruce looked at her as if she had spoken the rest in his head, clear as a bell.
"Yeah," he said, "Sometimes."
She realized she was spinning her parents' rings around and around her wrist and forced herself to stop. She took a breath, shook out her hands like a prize fighter getting ready for another bout, and picked up her pen.
"Okay," she said, poised over her paper, "I got this. Hit me again."
His smile brightened and he threw another question at her. She got that one wrong too. And the next one. And the one after that.
"Crap, crap, crap," she muttered, hitting her head against the book over and over, "Remind me again why I wanted to go back to school?"
"You wanted to help people?" Bruce offered, leaning back against the lab table and taking off his glasses to clean them on the tail of his shirt.
"Pepper helps people, she didn't have to go through all this NCLEX BS," Alice said, frowning down at her book and picking up her coffee again. It was finally cool enough not to burn her tongue.
Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Do you really want to deal with Pepper's particular brand of BS?"
Alice rolled her eyes, "Point taken. And speak of the devil-"
The glass doors slid open and Tony Stark sauntered into the lab, covered in engine grease and looking like he might have slept in his clothes from the night before, but still somehow managing to look smug about it.
"Hey man, I think I fixed that sequencing problem we were having in production. Veronica is back on again!" He slapped Bruce on the shoulder and finally seemed to notice Alice sitting in the corner. "Oh, hey Alice. How's the book work going?"
"Great," she said, trying not to sound sarcastic, but Tony was the king of sarcasm. He knew it like a second language.
"That good, huh?" he said, crossing his arms on the table in front of her and pressing up onto his toes to look down into her textbook, "You know, I could talk to some people, get you some of that real-world experience-"
"I already have real-world experience," she said sharply, thinking back to Kolkata, setting broken legs, pulling bullets out of shoulders, treating case after case of malaria.
"It's the terminology, that's all," Bruce said in her defense, "It takes a little getting used to."
"You didn't have any issues," Alice grumbled looking down at her book again to avoid his eyes, "You memorized the practice tests like they were nothing."
"I worked in biology for years," Bruce countered gently, "I had to know a lot of this stuff to do my job."
Alice sighed and turned a page. She knew that. She was just grouchy. It felt like she was never getting anywhere. She clenched her jaw and shut the book with a note of finality, picking up her coffee mug and turning her attention to the two men in the room, her eyes flicking back and forth between them with cheery interest.
"So," she said, "Veronica? Does Pepper know about this newest conquest, Tony?"
To her surprise, Tony flinched and stepped back. "Not...yet. She's been busy, you know, running a company? I haven't had a chance to fill her in."
Alice felt bad. She had been kidding, she hadn't meant to hit a sore spot.
"It's a new suit," Bruce said, his hands worrying together for a second before he seemed to realize and shoved them into the pockets of his lab coat, "A big one that fits over the original."
"Oh," Alice said, blinking, "That's...cool. What would you use it for though?"
They both gave her a pointed look. And she realized exactly what they would use it for.
"Oh." She said again, setting her coffee down, "Oh. The Other Guy."
"Yeah," Tony said, poking Bruce in the side, making him jump and roll his eyes, "Big Green over here. You know, just in case."
Alice hated these conversations. The "just in case" conversations. They always made Bruce moody, uncomfortable, nervous. She took a sip of her coffee. It was getting cold.
"So, why Veronica?" she asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Didn't you ever read Archie?" Tony asked, latching onto her conversation changer like a drowning man, "It was always Betty versus Veronica!"
Another silent dead weight dropped over the room, one that Tony seemed to realize he'd created a second later than everyone else. Bruce wouldn't meet her eyes now, staring at a spot underneath one of the steel lab tables. Alice tried one more time to change the subject.
"What about that thing we talked about before?" she asked, "The non-violent option?"
"It's too dangerous," Bruce said immediately, still not looking at her, "Unpredictable."
"But it's not," Alice insisted, "I mean, not as much as he used to be, right? You said so yourself, he's getting better. If we could just talk to him-"
But Bruce was already shaking his head, and Tony shrugged when Alice turned to him for support.
"We haven't been able to get any reliable readings of the Big Guy, so it's hard to tell what's going on in there," he said, "Until we can get some definitive proof that there's a significant difference in his understanding or physiology, we can't be sure. Brute force is the only thing that we know will work. You know, eventually."
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his oil-stained jeans. Alice frowned and took another sip of her cold coffee. She didn't like this. She didn't like that they wouldn't discuss other options. She was just about to voice her strong dislike when the doors slid open again, and Clint poked his head into the lab.
"Hey," he said, pointing at Alice, "Wheels up in ten."
Then he was gone, almost as fast as he'd come.
"Shit," Alice muttered, packing her books and papers into a bag and throwing it over her shoulder, "This oughta be interesting."
"Hey."
Bruce slipped past Tony and took her by the arm, stopping her from fleeing the lab immediately. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips.
"Be careful," he said, brushing her hair back from her eyes. Alice smiled. She couldn't help it.
"Yeah, I will."
She readjusted her bag on her shoulder before she shot through the door.
"Good hunting!" Tony chirped after her. She flipped him the bird over her shoulder as she took off running for the elevator.
Alice loved flying. It was one of only two things in the world she could say with absolutely no hesitation. She loved watching the world fall away, knowing that (if she wanted to) she could go anywhere, do anything. It was the perfect scratch for her itchy feet.
She banked right over the New York skyline and headed out toward the Upper Bay, staying clear of the JFK traffic lanes. She was sure Clint had cleared them for flight, but it didn't make sense to take chances. She leveled out over the water and headed south toward open water.
"Follow the coastline," Clint said over her shoulder, "We'll make a loop around the island."
Alice banked again, keeping the land on her left, the water on her right, and leveled out, checking the instruments to make sure there was nothing amiss. Then she sat back in the seat, her shoulders relaxing now that the hard part was over.
"So," she said, adjusting her grip on the steering, "You okay?"
Clint didn't answer for so long, Alice actually turned to look up at him. There was no expression on his face. That was slightly worrying. Clint was one of the nicest, friendliest, expressive people she knew. Not that her realm of experience was that wide, but still, it was worrying.
"Yeah," he said finally, shifting to a crouch beside her so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to see him, "Yeah, I'm good."
Alice turned back to the instrument panel and made a course adjustment without being told.
"You sure?" she asked, "You didn't seem so good last night."
Last night had been pretty awful, actually. She had never seen Clint so mad about anything. Ever. Come to think of it, she had never seen him any less than friendly with everyone he came into contact with. To see him openly hostile was...unsettling.
There was another, slightly shorter pause.
"Yeah," he said, "Nat says I need some time off."
"Nat's not wrong," Alice said, edging the jet over to keep them in sight of land, "When was the last time you took a vacation?"
"Last year," he said, "Early April."
Alice winced. Early April...when SHIELD had come crashing down, and the world along with it. The first time Alice had felt truly afraid in the Tower. The first time since meeting Bruce that she'd gotten itchy feet. She mentally shook off the unpleasant feeling and rolled her eyes.
"Come on," she said, "It's not like every time you take a vacation the world ends. You weren't on vacation in 2012."
A smile twitched his lips and that made Alice feel a little better.
"You need at least twenty more hours of flight time before your exam and you want me to take some R&R?"
"My test can wait," Alice pointed out, "It's not going anywhere. And Tony can keep me in practice while you're gone."
"Tony's gonna get you killed," Clint said, and he didn't even sound like he was joking, "Worse, he's gonna make you fail your flight test."
"Priorities, Clint. Your priorities could use some work," Alice said, smirking up at him.
"Yeah well, I'm not the only one."
He seemed to realize the implications of what he'd said just a second or two after he'd said it. His expression shut down again, bland, distant, not like Clint at all. Alice bit her lip and considered her next words carefully.
"Klara doesn't seem all bad, right?" Clint didn't answer her. "I mean, Thor trusts her. That has to count for something."
Silence. Long, empty, silence.
"...You're drifting. Watch your lines."
The Tower was so peaceful at night.
During the day, Klara could not help but feel out of place, a burden to everyone she came in contact with, even Lord Thor. Especially Lord Thor. Because, despite her assurances to him that she was perfectly alright, she knew he could sense how much of a lie it was. It was unnerving sometimes, how well he seemed to know her. Other times, it made perfect sense, considering...
Klara shuddered and wrapped her arms around her. The wind was getting chill, the year growing late and the nights long. It had been nearly a year since she'd learned the truth of her birth and she still could not bring herself to think on it, much less speak of it. Not even to Lord Thor, though he had more right than most to hear it. She could not bear to turn his world upside down yet again. And to speak the truth aloud, it would be like speaking it into existence. So long as it remained only in the deepest, darkest part of her mind, she could pretend that it had never happened. That nothing had changed. Well...nothing but the most brutal of truths, at least.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead...
Klara turned and stepped back inside, out of the wind. As soon as the glass doors shut, it was like the world outside had put on a warm blanket. All that was left were the twinkling lights of the sprawling city below. It was as near to Asgard as Klara felt she had ever been. London had been close. But it wasn't quite like this.
She padded into the dining area, running her fingers along the backs of the plain wooden chairs, against the gleaming tabletop. She paused, her memory assaulted by harsh words and angry gestures.
What do you mean, she cared for him?
He was my brother!
He took hundreds of lives!
She shut her eyes and clasped her hands tightly behind her back, just as she had the night before. Other words had been exchanged, but she hadn't heard them. She had only heard the same words that had echoed against the marble halls of the palace for so long, as if they were tethered to every beat of her heart.
...traitor...prince...monster...son...
"Hello."
Her eyes flew open and she jerked back, catching at the edge of the table to keep from stumbling. A man stood in the dim light of the sitting area, a bag slung over one shoulder, fair hair falling over-cautious, but not unfriendly eyes. That was how she knew she had not met him yet. The eyes, curious but not hostile. His hand was partially outstretched to her, like one might gesture to a small, startled animal.
"Whoa," he said, his voice smooth, calm, restrained, "Easy. Didn't mean to scare you."
Klara swallowed and pulled herself together, setting her shoulders and clasping her hands behind her again, before dipping into a well-practiced curtsy.
"My apologies," she said, in her best servant's tone, "I wasn't aware anyone else would be awake at this hour."
The man raised one eyebrow and a smile touched the corner of his mouth. The light from the city shone on his face.
"Asgardian?"
She blinked and stiffened slightly in surprise. But then she considered how she was dressed, her servants' tunic and leggings, so different from the strange materials worn here on Midgard. She relaxed again, dipping her head in acknowledgment.
"My name is Klara," she said, nearly wincing at how stiff the words sounded in her ears, "I am handmaiden to Lord Thor."
"Handmaiden?" he said, stepping up into the dining area and lifting the bag over his head to rest on the table, "What, do you do his hair in the mornings?"
Despite her resolve, Klara felt her lips twitch upward and she quickly dropped her head to conceal it.
"I do whatever Lord Thor requires of me," she said, "Though he has not yet asked for my assistance in styling his hair."
The man chuckled, a rolling sound that came from his chest and set Klara at ease despite herself. He approached her in two long strides and held out his hand to her.
"Steve Rogers."
Ah. So this was the Captain. Lord Thor had told her about him briefly, but he had been away for several days, on a mission of some kind. He had missed... everything. Her rise and fall, in the space of a day. Should she tell him? Should she stop this pretense at friendly camaraderie, this play that she was anything less than the friend of his enemy? She looked down at his hand, then up into his eyes. They were blue and open and glowing with earnest goodwill. And she could not bear to dim that light. Not now. Not when it might be the last light she saw for a very long time.
The moon knew not what might was his...
She reached out and tentatively took his hand, warm and smooth and strong. He did not soften his grip for her benefit as Klara had discovered some men did. Nor did he make any showy flourishes as Tony Stark had done, kissing her hand and speaking some garbled version of what he thought to be Asgardian vernacular. Before he had known who she was, and what she had done.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain," Klara said, and she genuinely meant it.
His smile widened. Klara thought perhaps that smile could light and warm a system of planets, all on its own.
"Reputation precedes me, I see," he said, squeezing her hand briefly before releasing it, "Any friend of Thor's, Klara, the pleasure is mine."
Klara dropped her hand and clasped it behind her once more. She knew that wasn't true. She had heard it so many times, and it had been proven false too often for her to believe it. But it was a lie spoken in kindness and she couldn't fault him for it. She dropped another small curtsy.
"I will leave you to your rest," she said, "I'm sure you've had a long journey. Good night, Captain."
And before he could protest or deflect, she slipped past him, her steps sure and long, until she finally reached the sliding door of the elevator car and safety.