Note: Author is sorry for shorter, sadder chapter.
"Not Every Ending is Happy"
Irene had put her foot down, in no uncertain terms, when Sherlock 'The Virgin' Holmes suggested that she dye her hair blonde, or wear a wig. Seeing that he was getting nowhere, he instead recommended streaks. Pulled back in her usual hairstyle, it didn't look too bad, she could admit. Only the occasional line of blonde hairs. Certainly not as wild as it would have looked down.
Although unusual colouring would be more likely to draw attention, he'd pointed out that she already managed that with her presence. Oh, he was learning. Perhaps he could put it towards that 'not-gay' doctor soulmate of his? They weren't fooling anyone, only each other.
One of the Ice Man's contacts had organised someone to meet Irene at the Jinna International Airport in Karachi. They had arranged a new identity for her, and she had a good idea what part of that name might be. Perhaps finally…
Sharp eyes on the lookout, she saw a woman in heels striding along, her hair down and glasses on her face. Irene coughed discreetly, and the woman slowed, meeting her eyes. She walked over, looked Irene up and down, and held out her hand.
"I presume you're Ms. Pulver?" she said, looking Irene right in the eyes.
Now wasn't the time for significant looks. Now was the time for action.
"I take it that's my new name, my lovely?" she asked, looking the woman head to toe and then back again. The woman's eyes widened, and her smile turned genuine.
"Your papers are here, Ms. Pulver," she said, pulling an envelope from an inner pocket. Irene noticed the handle of a gun.
"Please, call me by my first name," she murmured.
"Very well, Lara." Well, it wasn't too bad, as aliases went.
"How convenient that I'd already written the name 'Pulver' on all my luggage tags," Irene said.
"With that kind of soulmark, it was a pretty good bet."
"Won't you tell me your name?"
"Victoria Hand."
"How delightful," Irene said, smirking. "All the terrible puns I can make."
She rolled her eyes. "Good luck finding one I haven't heard before."
Irene followed her soulmate through the airport. "Where are we going?"
"Private plane. Come with me."
"Later, when we're alone. Unless voyeurism turns you on. What would you like me to call you, sweetheart?"
"You can call me Victoria," she replied, her cheeks suspiciously pink. "Never 'Vic'. I hate that."
"Victoria. The grandmother of our queen."
"She certainly was." Irene followed her soulmate across the tarmac to the small aeroplane waiting for them. She missed the next words due to a particularly loud roar from the engines.
"I didn't hear that," she said, walking up the ramp beside Victoria.
"Would you like to have a drink with me?"
It was a bit loud in the sudden quiet around them. Victoria cleared her throat, and Irene smothered a tempting chuckle.
"I rather thought that would go without saying," she said. "However, I accept. A drink sounds lovely."
"I'll be back in a minute."
"What did… Sherlock Holmes tell you about me?" she asked before Victoria could go. She turned on her heel, long hair moving distractingly over her shoulders as she cocked her head.
"Nothing we couldn't find out for ourselves," she said. "Sit down, Ms. Pulver. I'm afraid this jet was built for practicality, not comfort, but it goes faster than a civilian plane, and we'll stop to refuel in Europe."
"Will there be a hotel with silk sheets involved somewhere along the way?" Irene purred. Victoria's cheeks seemed to be permanently flushed.
"Only if you behave yourself on the journey," she said.
"Oh, girl guide's honour." Irene crossed her legs the other way before buckling herself in.
"…Uh-huh. I, uh, won't be long."
Irene watched her soulmate's figure as she strode off in the direction of the cockpit. She tucked her handbag behind her heel, and ignored the stares of the other agents around her.
Well. This was going to be an interesting trip indeed.
There were permitted a four-hour stopover in Venice. Irene talked Victoria into taking her to a nice little pensione. They didn't bond – Irene balked at such commitment – but they kissed along each other's soulmarks, used the time to get rid of the worst of the tension which had begun to build the moment they met. She enjoyed wringing her real name out of her soulmate who, for all her commanding nature in front of others, was perfectly willing to be dominated and taken care of.
On the Quinjet again, Victoria answered a call from someone named Phil.
"Calm down… they found Captain America? You need to get over that crush of yours… no, Phil… yes, I found her… I'm not telling you that! Well, John Garrett can go to hell, and you can tell him I said that… and him, you're a bunch of perverts… Phil, Steve Rogers is very unlikely to be your soulmate…" She sighed. "You can tell me all about it later… yes, get your trading cards, wonderful idea… no, Phil, I'd prefer to talk to my soulmate, if you don't mind." Then she hung up, and dropped her head back against the head-rest.
"You have inquisitive friends?" Irene said. Victoria groaned.
"The problem with being a spy is that all your friends are spies, and think that everything about you is their business," she grumbled.
"I suppose that is what friends are for."
"I guess so."
"It sounds… nice."
Irene looked away when Victoria glanced at her, hating that moment of vulnerability in front of her soulmate. She felt a hand take hers, and looked up again.
"They'll be your friends, too," she said. "And you can keep them in line for me."
She winked, all too aware of the various toys of punishment in Irene's suitcase.
Irene never had a chance to meet Phil Coulson. Victoria took her to the safe-house before running off to fight some alien enemy – literal alien, what had her life come to? – in New York City. Irene watched the television reports in horror. What were those things?
She received the call from Victoria saying that Phil had died, and talked soothingly to her for half an hour afterwards.
"He would've liked you," Victoria said, sounding as though she had a cold. Irene's heart ached in sympathy.
"He must have good taste," she said.
"He was a good man. Many people around here will miss him."
"Victoria… what happened there? What were those things?"
"I'll tell you everything that isn't classified. Just… stay where you are. And stay safe."
"How long until you get here?"
"I honestly don't know. But please stay inside. We've dealt with the immediate danger, but people might try to take advantage of the confusion."
"Very well," Irene said. "Send me a message every half hour so that I know you're still alive."
"You'd better respond."
"I will."
Irene traded messages with Sherlock, reassuring him that she was alright, that she hadn't been anywhere near Manhattan, and she would ensure that SHIELD kept her out of Mycroft's sight if he went to New York in the aftermath. It was unlikely that he would make the trip himself, unless the queen herself asked him to.
Victoria looked absolutely exhausted when she arrived at the safe-house, and nearly fell into Irene's arms. Irene led her to the couch in the living room, and left her there while she used the microwave to prepare soup. Her assistant had always done these things for her, but following the manual was a piece of cake, and she'd had a meal earlier. The dishwasher proved more challenging, so she opted to leave everything until the morning, when she could get Victoria's assistance.
"Here you are," she said, placing the bowl on the table in front of her soulmate. "Please eat something. You look dead on your feet."
"I'm sitting down," Victoria said. Irene nearly rolled her eyes, but reminded herself that Victoria had had a hellish day.
"Semantics," she said, picking up the bowl again and beginning to feed her. "I am sorry about your friend. I watched everything on the news as it was happening. Horrific."
"Dangerous, being my soulmate," Victoria said between sips of soup. Irene shrugged.
"Just as dangerous for you," she said. "Many people are after me. Or have you forgotten why it was necessary to fake my death?"
"Remind me to send a thank-you card to Sherlock Holmes."
Irene kissed Victoria's forehead as she dropped off to sleep. She left the woman slumped on the couch while she fetched a pillow and quilt from her bed, then tucked her in, placing the folded glasses on the table to keep them safe. She took the dishes through to the kitchen, and then retreated to her own bed. She drifted off to sleep with thoughts of her soulmate's long hair spread over white pillows, and smiled through the night.
"Who was it?" Irene asked, her hand tight around the telephone.
"An agent of HYDRA," Coulson replied. "I'm so sorry, Lara."
"I knew that she died when the soulmark faded. You can't give me any more details?"
"It was a prisoner transfer. One of our own barely got away when the Fridge was attacked. He was beaten up pretty badly."
"Did she suffer?"
"No. She was shot."
Irene nodded, even though Coulson wouldn't be able to see it. "She didn't die alone."
"She was among friends."
"And the enemy."
"Yeah… it was John Garrett. He's HYDRA."
Squeezing her eyes shut, tears trickled down Irene's cheeks, and she sniffled. She hadn't cried since London.
"I know you loved her, Lara. She knew it, too, even though…"
"Even though I never said it."
"And she loved you."
"I know." That was what hurt the most. "I know."
"We'll find Garrett. And when we do, I'll kill him myself. For you."
"Make it horrible," she said. "I want him to suffer at the end."
"He will," Coulson said. "They won't get away with this."
"Good. And… if you need my help—"
"Thank you. Just… remember the good times. Live as much as you can. When the time comes, I swear, I'll make sure you can play a role in bringing down HYDRA."
Irene thanked him quietly, and then hung up.
Time to use some of her old contacts. She would need them.
Didn't see myself getting around to writing something with Hand as one of the main characters because she, y'know, died. But 1_The_Purple_Donkey_1 requested any pairing with her, and suddenly it hit me. Irene Adler. Thus, this chapter was born, leading me to question my life choices again. And your life choices, for reading these stories and encouraging me with all your weird ship requests.
Please review, my dears!