Hi! I'm back! I took a week off for my birthday as a little present to myself. I hope you like this hastily made chapter c: Slight language warning and me pretending to know things warning.
Chapter Eleven - Weeping Here in the Ruins
The Avengers had lost. The Abomination escaped with whatever information he was looking for and hundreds had lost their lives. When Coulson fell they knew who to seek justice from. In this case, they hadn't just lost a team mate but they had also failed to stop this act of terrorism from occurring. As soon as the Abomination – Formerly Emil Blonksy – disappeared, comms went back up immediately. Fury gleaned what he could from his widespread intelligence network but there was no trace of Emil.
"How could a giant, green, fish guy just vanish, Fury? Riddle me this!" Tony shouted into his radio phone. He had stripped off the remainder of his armor and a young medical worker examined his left arm. He prodded Tony's shoulder.
"Ow! Can you- I'm sorry, hold on." He held the radio phone to his chest. "Can you not do that right now? I'm kind of in the middle of something?"
"S-sorry, it's just I think it might be dislocated." The man stammered, clearly inexperienced with handling such a feisty patient. "I'm trying to help you, sir."
"Help? How about some bourbon? Have you got any bourbon in that cute, little over-the-shoulder bag?"
"We stopped carrying around liquor after the Civil War, sir." The man stuttered.
"Oh, how clever." Tony simpered. "Leave. Go. Go help someone else, please."
"Bourbon? I thought you promised Pepper you would stay away from the hard stuff." Natasha hummed. She had been standing by, overseeing the evacuation. Tony looked affronted, the radio still clasped to his chest.
"I think, under the circumstances, I am allowed to at least joke about jumping off of the wagon." He hissed. She raised an eyebrow and rounded on him. She shooed the young man away, assuring him that Tony would be just fine. The Iron Avenger resumed his phone call.
"Look, I've already got all of my best people on this and we're not getting anything back." Natasha wound her hands around his upper arm. "This guy fell off the face of the earth. I need you to send someone down here who can identify whatever tech he used block all communication. Oh, and compile anything you know about teleportation. Of course, I'm serious." Tony screwed up his face and tapped the little radio on his forehead in frustration. "Well, how would you explain how he got away? Yes, I'm sure that's what happened. Just, do me a favor and- Ahh, ow!" He wailed in pain as she set his arm back into the socket. The slick pop was satisfying to the redhead. She could tell from experience that she had replaced it properly.
"Feel better?" She asked.
"No." He squeaked.
"It will." She called over her shoulder as she sauntered off. "Get it in a sling."
"You're a doll!" He sarcastically called back, protectively holding his arm. "A doll made of rabies and hatred." He murmured to himself.
Bruce patiently dressed the wound of the mechanic beneath him. They had set up a second field treatment area on the tarmac and he was doing what he could. He sighed and finished up the temporary bandaging. They both knew she would probably lose the leg. It was a silently agreed upon truce that neither of them mention it. He gave her an insecure nod when she thanked him. Two paramedics took her away on a stretcher to be evacuated. As he watched her leave, Steve approached him. He looked tired and defeated. Several spotlights that had been set up around the tarmac shone down on them, highlighting their dirty, warworn features.
"Dr. Banner." He greeted.
"Hey." Bruce washed his hands in a nearby basin. They were sticky with someone else's blood and it nauseated him, slightly. "How bad is it?" His question was vague but they both knew what he meant.
"I think you know." The Captain sorrowfully replied. The wreckage of the hospital and the barracks smoldered behind them. The baying of search and rescue dogs could be heard in the distance.
"You're right. Stupid question." He replied, drying his hands. A long silence passed between the two men.
"You're certain about what you saw down there?" Steve asked, finally. Bruce scoffed, displeased that Steve would question what he saw. Steve clarified. "Tony can't find a trace of Emil anywhere in the last five years. Even with Fury's help they have no idea where this guy came from."
"Thor corroborated everything I said." Bruce pointed out, impatiently. He ended the conversation by turning his back to the Captain. He leaned against the basin and cursed. Steve took that as his cue to go. Amira was also there with him in the command center. He just wasn't sure if Steve had even talked to her yet. Everyone had scattered to help out while she grieved.
He was anxious about seeing her in the aftermath of what happened. Did she blame him? She had said it was not his fault but they always said that. It's not that he had never lost one before. Working in India, he saw his share of brutal wounds gone untreated for too long and horrible industrial accidents. This was different. He had to see her face everyday from now on. He had to witness her grief. He couldn't apologize and walk away forever from this one. Suddenly memories flickered in his mind's eye.
A smile and a laugh. A bouquet of daffodils. A soft hand on his. A kiss that tastes faintly of coffee.
"You're always so serious, Bruce. You're lucky that frown of yours is so becoming."
His fist slammed down on the basin causing the water to slosh. He shortly reigned his temper in, shaming himself for letting his anger overcome him.
"Betty." He whispered. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He wished he could forget her laugh, he could hear it so keenly even now. He pushed those memories away. They made his chest tight and his pulse rise. He had to keep that part of him at bay. He decided to distract himself by checking on Amira. He got the feeling she was still running around with an open wound in her side.
When he found her, she wasn't running around at all. She was sat at the edge of the tarmac next to Aaron. His body had been covered by a dark brown blanket. Her little body was folded beside him. She had drawn her knees to her chest and crossed her ankles. Her neck was craned at an uncomfortable looking angle. He couldn't be surprised. She was watching the stars.
"Hey." He ventured, leaning against the bed of an abandoned military truck.
"Hey, Bruce." In the light he could see the glass shimmering in the small cuts on her face.
"You're haven't had that looked yet, have you?" Bruce mentioned. She sighed.
"I can't abandon him." Her voice was broken and low. Bruce stood behind her. She couldn't see the expression on his face but his silence made his confusion evident.
"We're Jewish. It's kind of a thing. Shemira." She explained. "His soul is, like, confused and hovering above his body, I guess. I have to comfort it. Or him. Depends on whether or not you believe souls have genders." Her tone betrayed her shaken faith. She made each word sound more farcical than the last.
As a scientist, Bruce found the notion of a confused soul a little strange but he wouldn't say as much. He knew religion to be a difficult topic of discussion. He set his medical bag on the bed of the abandoned olive colored truck.
"We can do it here." He offered. She dropped her head, sensing he wouldn't leave her be and rose to stand.
"If you insist."
"Does it hurt?" He dumbly asked. She crossed over to him.
"A bit." She clarified. She had stopped crying recently. Her eyes were still reddened. He wondered at how serene she seemed and felt a little disgusted with himself for examining her mourning so closely. Who was he to judge her? He was the most emotionally dysfunctional person he knew.
"Have a seat. We'll take care of it." He said gruffly, rousing himself from his musings. He patted the truck bed. Amira carefully lifted herself up and onto the surface, her legs swinging over the side. He saw her wince when she twisted her body to settle herself better.
"Do you want something for the pain?"
"I'm a big girl." She said. Bruce raised his eyebrows at her and he received a shrug in response. She was looking away from him, guarding herself.
"Let's see the damage." She looked at him skeptically for a moment before removing her utilitarian vest, revealing the skin tight layer of protective black spandex material she wore underneath. He could see the afflicted area now. The blood had dried and crusted around the material. Removing it wouldn't be pleasant for her. Before he could mention to her that she should take care with her shirt, she pulled the black layer off. The blooded area crackled quietly as it peeled away from her skin. She growled and ripped it off quickly, leaving her clad in only a very functional white sports bra. The full extent of the damage was revealed to Bruce. He sucked in an empathetic hiss as he thumbed the flesh just below the fabric of her bra.
"Luckily, it's only superficial. We might be able to get away with using butterfly closures instead of stitches." He declared as he rummaged through his bag.
"What a relief." She drawled. He nodded and handed her his sterilized forceps to hold onto while he donned a pair of rubber gloves. The snapping of the glove on his wrist made her jump. He perched himself on the edge of his chair and reached for his forceps. Amira handed them over reluctantly.
"Doctors make you nervous?" He had a habit of asking questions that bordered on being statements. He scanned her waist for debris; his gloved hands going over every cut. He was an intruder now. "Lean back." he murmured. The brunette complied. She reclined and let her hands rest behind her, supporting her.
"I try to avoid them, if I can. Ah! Cold. Cold." She cringed at the offending little alcohol soaked cotton ball he applied to her skin. He mumbled an apology. "You're not a doctor, though. I mean, you are. You are a doctor but you're-" She growled and wrinkled her nose. "You're alright." Was all she could come up with. He gave her a crooked smirk. She put her foot in her mouth more often than Tony did and she did it without Tony's ability to recover. He plucked the first bit of glass from her side. She did not react.
"You're alright too, for a mutant." Dr. Banner quipped. "I've only ever met two, including you, so I don't have much to go on." She jerked and growled; another little piece of glass clinked into the bowl he set aside. "That was a particularly nasty bit." He idly commented.
"Who was it? We all know each other, you know." She lightly joked. It almost seemed as though she was trying to divert her attention from the prodding metal tool on her body.
"You would probably know him as 'Wolverine'." Bruce distractedly explained.
"I never met him but I've heard the stories of how difficult he can be" She replied. He hummed in agreement but returned to work for a few moments in silence stopping only to remove his glasses to wipe his brow.
"Do you-" He paused thinking over his words carefully. "Would you mind telling me what happened?" He gestured to her wounds. She sucked in a breath and shook her head.
"That thing was beating on you pretty bad." She stated naturally. "I tried to distract him and he kind of knocked me over. I slid through a few feet of busted glass." Bruce looked at her hard in the eyes. He couldn't read her.
"You know you didn't have to do that, right? I'm sort of indestructible when I get like that." He gently chided. Amira ran a hand through her coffee colored curls and shook her head a second time.
"Sort of?" She repeated. "You were out cold. He was about to go for the kill." She explained. He was standing so close to her he could see that her bottom lip had split. Bruce tensed his jaw. He couldn't die when he was like that, it was impossible.
"That wouldn't stop Emil from trying." Bruce mused. Though Emil's current condition was obtained through his own wrongdoing, Bruce still pitied him. In many ways his curse was far crueler than his own. He never got to change back into a man.
"We're team mates, Bruce. You stepped in for me without thinking about it." He choked on something- some words he couldn't form. "You've already paid it forward." He couldn't remember what he had wanted to tell her. She let a sad smile grace her features.
"What you did for Aaron- I could never thank you enough." She said meaningfully, locking his gaze within hers. Bruce tried to say something in reply but his throat felt so suddenly dry. He blushed and tore his amber eyes away from hers.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. Clink. Another glass shard removed. She exhaled a breathy laugh.
"There wasn't anything more anyone could do. Sometimes a person gets really hurt and they just," She began matter-of-factly, "they just die." She finished, her voice just a shred of a whisper. She swallowed and gained her resolve back. "Sometimes that person is your brother." He frowned as he affixed a layer of gauze to her rib cage.
Amira thanked him. He nodded and gestured towards her shoulder. She turned slightly away from him so that he could access that part of her. He stood up from his chair to closer study her shoulder. As his left hand hovered over the delicate skin of her neck she shivered. The shy doctor recoiled almost imperceptibly. He had to remind himself he was a professional. Quickly, he regained his composure and rested his left hand just around the glass-laden area at the sharpest point of her shoulders. He made quick work of it; it wasn't as bad as her torso. They both remained silent but he could see her pulse pounding in her neck.
"Anxious." He thought. "Put her at ease. Have a shred of bedside manner, Bruce."
"Are you okay?" He asked awkwardly; shifting the medical tape nervously in his hand.
"I'm fine." Any of her former animated self drained away. He put the finishing touches on her repaired shoulder.
"You don't have to- I was sitting right next to you." He halted when he noticed she no longer staring at her shoulder but at him. The look on her face was unreadable yet again.
"Why did I try to talk about feelings? I am not that kind of doctor." He inwardly chastised himself. "Just go back to what you were doing and leave it."
He muttered an apology and went back to work, sweeping her hair off of her face, sterilizing, examining, and removing. The environment was tense, due to their closeness so he tried to work quickly. He placed the final bit of bandage on her cheek after a few minutes of arduous extraction.
"The good news is there shouldn't be any scarring – on your face, at least." He sighed while he peeled off his gloves. He was able to put some space between himself and this woman, much to his relief.
"At least I'll still be beautiful." She flatly said as she carefully hopped down from the truck bed. He frowned, inspecting the bandage on her face.
He inched closer, once again, to press down on a wayward piece of tape there when he noticed a tear slip past his fingers. His eyes snapped to hers. Another tear began to fall. Without thinking he gently brushed it away with his thumb in an attempt to keep it from wetting her bandages.
"I told you I could give you something for the pain. Was it that bad?" Amira ignored his inquiry and instead set her gaze on Bruce. He held his breath. Something told him this wasn't about the pain of her injuries.
"You know the phrase 'what have I got to lose?'" Her breath hitched. Bruce nodded. Another tear trailed down her cheek. She inhaled sharply and continued. "All I can think is, that is my reality. I have nothing left, Bruce." Her tears started to flow freely and she did not bother to wipe them away, allowing them to slip down the curve of her face. The tip of her nose pinkened and her eyebrows twitched with the strain of keeping what composure she had left. "Things aren't going to be okay. I'm not going to be okay." She cried. The intensity of her feelings made her quiver.
He panicked. He couldn't put a band-aid on this. He swallowed thickly trying to remember how a normal human behaved in a situation like this. His conscience warned him to walk away. His accident screwed up a lot of his life but he still had a heart. He couldn't bring himself to be cold to her. Not like this. Not on the day she lost her brother.
Bruce bent down to stiffly let his arms wind around her shoulders, taking care to avoid her bandages. It felt alien yet, somehow so familiar to comfort someone else. He hadn't done anything like this since before his accident. Slowly she raised her arms up behind him, and hooked her hands on his shoulders. Her crying had turned to full fledged weeping and her hold on him became tighter and more desperate.
He hadn't been this uncomfortable in a very long time. He cursed himself. He hadn't been this uncomfortable in a long time because he was smart enough to avoid getting close to other people. He knew befriending Tony was going to be a slippery slope. She quaked in his grasp. Without thinking, he passed a hand over her hair and let it rest at the base of her skull. With a crying person in his arms he felt incredibly out of his depth so he stuck to consoling her with the little phrases one uttered to another in need of comfort. Slowly, the intimacy of the act felt less and less alien to him, which scared him, slightly.
Her bout of weeping tapered off slowly into occasional sobs. Amira slowly relinquished her grip on him and raised her head off of his shoulder. She choked out a thank you. He merely nodded, he was not sure if he should look her in the eyes. She sighed deeply and fully.
"It wasn't my intention to burden you with that." She stated plainly, one arm bent at the elbow to hold onto the other. She appeared to feel foolish.
"Uh, it's no problem. Anytime." He stammered. Amira snorted and shook her head. Her hand balled into a fist and she lightly tapped her forehead. Bruce look quizzically at her but she didn't appear to have any intention of explaining. She simply apologized again and collected her over shirt. She was about to take her place beside Aaron when she turned to Bruce.
"Thanks." Bruce shook his head and set about putting away his supplies. "I mean it. Thanks. For all of it. Everything. Taking care of the glass, letting me ugly-cry all over you," She stopped, "and for what you did for Aaron. I could never repay you, Bruce." At the mention of Aaron he bowed his head and gave a weak nod. She only smiled in return and stood up on her toes to plant a thankful kiss on his jaw. He could feel her breath tickle his stubble. She paused there for a second, her face centimeters from his, before shaking her head and laughing to herself. He thought he might turn to stone were it not for the tingle and blooming warmth where her lips brushed his face.
"And I am going to be okay. Probably." She tacked on.
Bruce's mind reeled. He couldn't stop feeling her warm hands on his shoulders. He couldn't ignore the aching of that little spot on his jaw where she kissed him. His mind was awash with questions. Did he enjoy comforting another person so much because it made him feel human again? Or did he feel human again because he was comforting her? He realized that he was holding his face and immediately wrenched his hand down, feeling like an idiot. He didn't really want to ruminate on the thought of the little kiss much longer so he walked away, leaving Amira to her vigil and her stars.
Aaron had always thought that funerals were dreadfully boring. Thinking of him, Amira saw to it that his was short and sweet. Steve assured her that she must bury Aaron before they do a full debriefing. Tony had his most capable assistants help her arrange for his burial in Tel Aviv. The affair was seen to the very next day in the same cemetery their own mother was laid to rest. If she knew where her father was, she might have called him to let him know what had happened but she hadn't seen him since they parted ways when she and Aaron left for school. The Avengers had all attended, though she insisted to them that it was not their obligation. She childishly stumbled through the Hebrew prayers and cursed her unstudied tongue. Aaron was fluent, she remembered. She almost threw up on the finely manicured grass when she realized she would never hear him speak again.
After the service was ended and Amira had made a visit to her mother's grave, the seven mourners, like a flock of blackbirds, consorted with one another where Aaron had just been newly interred. Amira retrieved a small jagged rock that she had pocketed in New Mexico and kept ever since the attack. She rolled it around in her palm before placing it gently on Aaron's modest headstone. Tears slipped past her eyelashes and fell silently down her cheeks. It was the last act of goodbye she would commit. Bruce, only vaguely familiar with Jewish custom, picked up a round stone nestled in the grass and went to set it softly next to hers. Amira stopped him by taking the stone tenderly from his fingers.
"With the left hand." She chuckled. The sound broke forth from her aching throat like water. She clasped his left hand in hers. He watched her intently as she pressed the stone into his palm. When she closed his fingers around it, he gave her a look of uncertainty. It was as if he were curious whether there were anymore instructions he should be aware of. She sniffed and urged him on with a cautious smile. He put the stone in it's proper place next to hers and said nothing.
They had not known each other long enough for any of them to trade stories about Aaron or reminisce. In fact, the moment was rather awkward for all of them. She had barely just met Thor and there he was, towering over the rest of them, looking out of place in a black suit and tie. In fact, all of the Avenger's looked odd to her in funeral attire.
"Thanks again, guys. Aaron would have been happy to see you all here." Amira said to the others. They all nodded and mumbled pleasantries. Natasha, standing near to her, reached over and squeezed her upper arm.
"That's not true." She realized with a smile. "He would've felt sorry that he put you through something as awful as a funeral." At this, she received some pitiful, stiff laughter. She couldn't blame them for being so quiet. They were all thinking about what they had seen yesterday and how powerless they had all been to stop it. It was silent among them for a long time.
"I just don't get it." Clint piped up, unable to keep his thought contained. "What was this guy's motive?"
"The same as anyone else's. Money. Power." Natasha replied, as if it were obvious. "Same old bad guy shtick."
"My best people poured over the information we have. It looks like he dumped everything in Desert Base's system into an untraceable database somewhere." Tony mentioned.
"Everything? You realize that's the entire amassed history of all weapons development projects that the American government as ever undergone, don't you?" Bruce said in disbelief. "It would have taken the most advanced computing system half a day to process and transfer that much information. Emil did that in a matter of hours. It can't be possible." He concluded.
"And the way he just blinked out of existence when we were underground-" Amira toyed with her bottom lip, her brow furrowed. "It was like magic." She whispered. Tony shook his head and raised a finger.
"Not magic. There's no such thing as magic." He murmured.
"Magic is as common as breathing in Asgard, Stark. How can you say it is not real when you have experienced it for yourself?" Thor crossed his arms and gave Tony a sporting grin.
"Clarke's third law."
"I'm sorry?" Natasha snipped, as if Tony were speaking Greek.
"Tony, please." Bruce groaned.
"Clarke's third law." He insisted.
"Tony that's science fiction. Not science." Bruce snorted. To the rest of them, they might as well have been arguing The Next Generation versus The Original Series. It was incomprehensible.
"I don't see how it's not relevant. Clarke's third law is as follows: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Tony recited proudly. "I know what the cutting edge of science looks like- I am the cutting edge of science. You got an edge? I'll cut it!" He madly gesticulated in Bruce's direction. "The point is, the most advanced stuff I have is miles behind what this guy is packing."
"We'll debrief at the tower." Steve declared, seemingly energized by the prospect of chasing down Emil. The whole group seemed to perk up a bit.
"Bruce and I will do a little digging. I get the feeling that this whole thing was just a precursor for something infinitely more shitty." Amira didn't like the sense of dread that crept up on her at Tony's words. She believed him, but what could be worse than losing Aaron?
Oohh, eleven chapters in and we finally have a plot! How novel! It'll be going a little fast after this but not much, I think haha. I'm unhappy with the pacing, though. Maybe one day I'll rewrite it! Haven't even finished it and I'm already thinking about it!
By the way, Bruce seems like he would favor The Original Series where Tony prefers TNG. I side with Tony, personally.