Taste of Apples

Summary:

My name is Lexi Roux. I am twenty-years-old and because I am just that awesome, I just recently graduated from Universite Paris Sorbonne, in Paris, France. I never expected my life to change so drastically after the death of my parents. I never really expected to have to put my life on hold, my Tante Maria telling me that my parents had been agents for some S.H.I.E.L.D. agency.

I guess Tante Maria never explained to these...Avengers, that I have what people call Synethesia. Every voice carries a taste. Every touch carries a sound.

Now, if I could just get the taste of apples out of my mouth and ignore the soft whispers against my skin.

Author's Note:

Lexi Roux is of my own creation. She is twenty years old and incredibly talented in Fine Arts. She also suffers from what is called Synethesia, which is where the brain confuses some of the sensory triggers. Voices cause her to taste flavors, music causes her to see metallic-shaded colors (compare it to the visualizers for ITunes or Media Players) and anything she touches she hears sounds. This doesn't effect her normal senses; sight, hearing or smell, it might sound confusing, but it won't seem so odd when you read on. She has been living in France for many years, so she uses some French terms, but did grow up in America so her first language is English.

Because I absolutely adore Tony Stark (there are so many different sides to Tony that makes him so...delicious), this will be a Tony/OC story.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Avengers, or anything in relation to Marvel. The plot and Lexi are completely my own.

Enjoy!

Chapter Nine
Memorial Trip

They stare at me now. Some with pity. Some in surprise. I know Steve must have informed them of what I told him. I can see it, in the way they stare. I can't help but feel as though my world is slowly starting to cave in; Angelique Mason's illness and my recent meeting with the past I wish would stay buried. They say you can never keep it buried, but that doesn't mean you can't beat it into submission.

Inhaling the cigarette, I stare up at the pale silver-white moon. Sometimes, I wish I could fly. To remain untied by gravity and free among the clouds. Closing my eyes, I fight back the small seed of insecurity nestled deep within my mind. It had taken me so long to break free of the hollow existence I lived prior to life at University. Every day of my life, I am forever thankful for Jacquot being a part of my life.

"Your up late, again," wild strawberries spreads through my thoughts and I pull my gaze from the moon to stare at the red-head standing in the doorway of the terrace.

"I see that you're back from your mission," I greet Natasha, giving her a small smile, "Did you learn of anything?"

"I am not sure. I managed to catch some of their conversation. They spoke of searching for a book of some kind. Livre de Rose," Natasha replies, her eyes watching me carefully as I dispose of the spent cigarette and curl up in the chair behind me.

"The Book of Rose?" I muse thoughtfully, glancing up at the night sky, "I am not sure of any book that would be in my parent's possession, and I hate any heavy reading."

"It is not my place to ask, but are you alright?" I can't even try to stop the quirk from pulling at my eyebrow, and Natasha shifts in slight discomfort before continuing, "You do not seem to be your usually carefree self."

Despite the awful week I've had, a smile twitches my lips slightly, "It is difficult for me to feel happy at the moment. I had been so different when I was younger, and while it feels like a life-time ago, I can't help but wonder if my life will always be this way."

"How so?"

Inhaling deeply, I glance away from the beautiful woman, "I'm not entirely sure why I am telling you this, but...you taste like strawberries," A subtle shift in the air around us makes me believe she is confused, "Your voice, sweet with a pinch of sour, heavily seeded on the outside, but supple and soft in the middle," I glance over to see her eyes widen at my words, "I have Synethesia, a mix-up of sensory receptors. Voices register as flavors."

"So, touch registers?"

"Sound," I reply at her softened tone, "Most people, their touch is loud, invasive and migraine-inducing. When I was attending the Academy in my early teens, at the time, Synethesia was not something doctors had knowledge of. I didn't have any way of understanding what was wrong, so...I wasn't the most open person when it came to making friends."

"I'd imagine so. Tony and Clint both stated that you and your French friend, Jacques, are close. How did that happen?" she asks, moving to take the empty chair next to mine.

I smile softly at the memory, "Jacquot had been my roommate from the moment I started at the University. One day, he told me I smelt like laughter and home. I wasn't sure what he meant until he told me he suffers from Synethesia as well. Smells register as sounds, and touch registers as a taste to him. Our conditions were not so different, and...I finally learned that I wasn't alone in the world. He helped me cope with my condition in ways that weren't harmful to my mind, or body. Our friendship only solidified as we grew closer and moved off campus into a two bedroom studio-flat."

"So, the day we first met. You weren't afraid of me from the moment I spoke because of the way my voice...tasted?"

I giggle at the slightly disturbed tone coating the last word, and I nod, "It may sound odd, but the flavors of everyone's voice seems to mimic their personalities. Steve, he's sweet-spicy pumpkin-pie," Natasha snorts in blatant agreement, "Bruce tastes like chili, spicy with a hint of sweet beneath," The red-head nods, "Thor tastes like hot chocolate, warm and thick, but refreshing after a long, horrible day. Clint, he tastes like nectarines. A single, deep-seeded pit surrounded by a thick layer of luscious sweetness all wrapped in a thin layer of protective skin," Glancing over, I notice a genuine interest grows in her eyes, "Tony...his flavor is sour apple. A small amount of seeds deep within a core, coated in a sour bite, but refreshing and thirst-quenching."

"I...I am impressed. You don't observe people through sight, but through sound, or taste in your case," Natasha states, the slightest awe in her voice making me smile, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I feel like you can understand what it means to do things, things you aren't proud of, in a means to protect your own interests. When I didn't have a way of coping, I turned to hallucinogenics and for the most part, it worked, but...I was never proud in the wake of it all. I felt as though the only person I could rely on was myself, until I met Jacquot, who took me under his wing and taught me how to accept and over-come everything."

A soft, nearly non-existent smile tugs along Natasha's lips, before it faded behind the pain of memories, "I used to be an assassin. I killed more people than I'm willing to tell you. One day, Fury ordered Clint to take me out, as I was becoming a threat to the agency. Instead, Clint offered me a way out, to get rid of the red in my ledger. Seeing the only opportunity to get away and repent, I agreed. Clint has been my saving grace, my friend, comrade and the only family I had known. I became an agent of the agency and until recently, the only person I ever relied on was Clint."

I feel my own insecurities fade at the sight of the woman beside me. Deadly for sure, but wanting to fix the wrongs of her past.

"Thank you, for making me feel better," I see her eyes widen slightly, as though she wasn't sure how she managed to do so, "I just wish I could do something for Madame Angelique."

Surprise flickers through Natasha's blue-green eyes, "You mean Stark didn't tell you?" I shake my head in confusion, "Bruce managed to isolate a poison from Angelique's blood sample you brought back. He created an antidote and Tony sent it, along with his personal doctor, to France. He made a call the night after you and Clint came back, set her up with a trusted doctor on his payroll until Bruce could make an antidote."

My heart catches in my throat and a warmth spreads through my chest. The hollow sensation fades rapidly as I launch myself from my chair. Bidding Natasha a goodbye and a thank you, I race myself down to the workshop Tony's kept himself holed up in since my return. Punching in the personal code Tony gave me, I practically flew through the door and stopped a foot away from the surprised philanthropist.

"I-Is it true?" I stutter out, feeling my heart race even more as I take in his slightly haggard appearance. "Is it true? You sent an antidote to Madame?"

The surprised confusion in his amber gaze fades into a softened glint, "Bruce and I have been working around the clock since you came back. When Legolas told us you were holding yourself responsible for what happened to her, we all agreed to help in whatever way we can. I was going to tell you-"

I cut him off as I am unable to restrain myself any longer. Launching myself across the short distance, my arms wrap around his waist and tears of relief break free from their hold. I don't even realize his arms shift and wrap around my shoulders as I rest my forehead against the left side of his chest. Peering at the soft blue-white light glowing from under his black shirt, I carefully lift a hand up and gently place it over the warm device. A faint whispering hum travels along my arm.

"Whoever said you were a heartless bastard deserves to rot in Hell," I choke out between my sobs of relief.

Feeling the faint tension fade, a gentle press of his lips on the top of my head causes me to close my eyes, "You'd be one of the few to believe different."

Pulling away from the tearful embrace, I reach up and wipe at my face, "I don't know how I'd ever repay you."

"Stop shutting everyone out," he responds gently, and I fight the urge to close my eyes as his hand moves to brush down my messy hair, "I..." He coughs slightly, a slight discomfort flickering in his eyes, "We all miss your warmth and light. We miss that sparkle in your green eyes. You may not be a member of the team, but you are a member of this dysfunctional family we have here. You...you remind us what it's life to be human and a civilian."

A wide smile, the truest smile I've managed in the last week, spreads across my lips at his words, as I tearfully reply, "You've got yourself a deal, Tony."

The whispered caress of a thumb brushing beneath my left eyes causes me to shudder inwardly, "Welcome back, Bright-Eyes."

Feeling a blush burn across my cheeks, I hear a deep chuckle and his sour-bite becomes sweeter on the tip of my tongue, and I shift in my stance, "Well, I just...want to say thanks. I'm going to try and get some sleep. Perhaps, you should do the same?"

"Lexi Roux?" Tony gasps mockingly, "Are you propositioning me?"

I snort, shoving his shoulder, "In your dreams. Good night, Tony."

"Sweet dreams, Bright-Eyes."

Fighting back the blush at the new nickname, I duck my head in a faint nod before making my way back to my room. Entering my room, I search for a way to occupy my thoughts and keeping them away from the subject that is Tony. Remembering my personal tablet hidden in the depths of my art messenger bag, I remove it and begin toying through the many applications. Coming across an application that carries a collection of pictures, I flip through them.

Most of the recent pictures are ones of Jacquot and myself, the summers during my University years spent at the Chateau memorialized. Pictures of sitting off to the side of Angelique, talking to her as she tended to her garden. Of Jacquot, his brothers and myself surrounding a poker table, junk food, empty bottles of beers and the disappointed faces of those who lost their hands while Jacquot grins widely as he sweeps the pot of chips toward himself. Of being dragged through the shopping district of Bordeaux as Jacquot's sisters pull me down the street, a small smile on my lips despite the irritation caught in my eyes. Of sitting at the counter-top island in the kitchen, talking animatedly over a cup of coffee with Marcel and the chef preparing breakfast.

Flipping further, I feel my eyes widen as I come across old pictures of me, with my parents, on our summer vacation retreats to exotic countries across the world. When I was younger, my parents would take me to different countries. I had always carried a deep love for the cultures of other races (and boy do I hate using that word) and a small smile tugs at my lips. Remembering our trips to China, where my deep love of art only grew more passionate as we visited old cities and villages, learning of their art and architecture. Flipping through the pictures, I come to a set of picture during our summer in Brazil. A dangerous country, but full of beauty, wonder and a richness of culture. The next set of pictures carries memories of my summer in Morocco and Egypt, visiting the bazaars of Morocco and the ancient pyramids of Egypt. Coming across the set of picture from my summer in Japan, I smile as I recall the ambassador we stayed with. Rōzu Taichi, had been his name. His wife died two years prior to our stay, but I met his son, Ryuu, a young man in his mid-twenties (I had just turned sixteen). Ryuu was a brilliant mind and spoke with respect toward my parents, myself as well. He carried a deep-seeded sense of honor and I often believed that he would become one of the greatest minds microbiology has to offer. Ryuu, bless his heart, often tended to the beautiful garden his mother left behind. It was not something common for a man to be seen doing, but he said when he tended to her garden, he felt more connected to her on a spiritual level.

Glancing over at the clock on my nightstand, I grab my phone and flip through the very few contacts, before sending a call.

"Moshimoshi. Kore wa, jūkyodesu Rōzu. Kore wa Taichi ga hanashite iru."

Hearing the familiar, ginger-flavored voice travel through the phone, I smile softly, "Kon'nichiwa, Taichi. Kore wa Roux Lexi."

"Ah," the man clears his throat, switching from Japanese to English for my sake, "It has been many years, yes?"

"Yes. I was flipping through some old pictures and wanted to see how you and the family are doing," I reply.

"We are doing well. Ryuu was speaking of you a few weeks ago. He wanted to speak to you of something," Taichi states, "We heard news of your parents passing. I so sorry for your loss, Lexi-san."

"Thank you, Sir. If you want, you can put Ryuu on."

After getting conformation, a different voice, lighter and carrying the flavor of dragon fruit, "Kon'nichiwa Lexi-chan."

"Hi, Ryuu-chan. Taichi said you wanted to talk to me," I reply, coiling a strand of hair around my finger as I stare at the ceiling.

"After hearing the news of your parents, I started to think about you. I remember this tiny girl following me around the garden and sketching everything in that sketch pad of her's," I giggle at the memory, "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I am fine. I was just calling because I was flipping through old pictures and wondered how the family was doing."

"I am to be married next year," he replies.

I squeal at the news, "Oh! Ryuu-chan, you have to tell me all about this woman!"

I listen intently as he speaks of his future-wife. I can't help but coo at the idea. Ryuu, outside of my family, had been the only person to know of my condition at the time. He had always been careful around me. Ryuu is a man that is kind in nature, but willing to stand for those weaker. He inspired me to take my final year attending the Academy and shove every glare back down their throats.

"I am curious. What would you say to being my Best Man, so to speak?"

I smile. Due to his 'geek-like' personality, Ryuu did not have many friends when I met him. "Oh, Ryuu-chan, I'd be honored. Does that mean, in the event of me having a date, they'd have to wear a dress?"

Ryuu chuckles in response, "You, my dear friend, are definitely an odd one. I'm afraid I must go for now. I will send you the invitation when the time comes."

"Goodbye, Ryuu-chan."

"Sayōnara, Lexi-chan."

Hanging up, I stare up at the ceiling. Hm...the Rōzu family, slowly growing in numbers. Something twinges in the back of my mind, but after a long, drawn-out yawn escapes my lips, I curl up and my eyes slide shut.

Alright everyone! This is a special treat because my crap-tastic life caught me off guard and yanked me away from inspiration, but I am back, and this is for you. COSTUMES PEOPLE. For every Avenger. I know you guys have good ideas. With the upcoming holiday, I want fun costumes. I want costumes that are out-of-this-world. I want ideas that are not very common (i.e. vampires, werewolves...etc.) I want ideas that sound like plausible costume ideas for the team members. Credit goes to the ideas, as they will not be my own. This is my special way of getting my awesome reviewers and readers a voice in my story.

Really...you guys are awesome.

Shout outs to my reviewers for my previous chapter (Chapter Seven) will be given next chapter.

Until Next Time...

Really people. COSTUMES!