A/N. *Spider-Man voice* Hey everyone. *Normal voice* Alright, I'm going to be honest here: this chapter is mostly just set-up for the spin-off I've been planning. I mentioned that before, right? A spin-off surrounding Viola that would heavily include Matt Murdock/Daredevil? That's probably going to be the next fic I write once this one is finished.
ALSO! I have a tumblr! I've had it for a few months now, but I've decided to let people know about it :P You can find me at www . tumblr blog / marvelsbestsuperheroine (without the spaces). Or just look up "marvelsbestsuperheroine" on tumblr :) Up until now I've mostly just reblogged various Marvel things (beware spoilers for Civil War) but I have now decided to include information about my fanfictions, as I've seen other authors do. You can interact with me there, ask me questions, request prompts, etc. Instead of posting full-length fics that take place during AoU and CW, I'll probably just make tumblr posts about what would've happened had Tania been there. Please keep in mind that none of this is set in stone and that I could change my mind, but as of right now that is the way things are probably going to go. So yeah! Please follow me and enjoy this next chapter :D
Chapter Nineteen
The jet's repulser-powered engines thrummed with life, glowing bright blue. The air around them began to swirl, lifting leaves and blades of grass into the tornado. Clint and Viola's casual clothes whipped about them, their hair flying in all directions. They stepped back as the jet lowered to the ground, the engines whining in a high pitch as they slowed to a stop. The wheels landed in the dirt and the door hissed before popping open. It whirred as it descended, revealing Natasha from her head to her toes. She, too, was dressed casually and stood with her hip cocked to one side.
"Nice hair," Clint commented, walking onto the plane as if he owned it.
"Nice stab wound," she returned, smirking at him.
Viola followed Clint inside, turning to look back at the "safe house" she'd resided in for several days. With one final glance, she turned back and approached Natasha. "Thanks for picking us up." The jet they'd stolen had a malfunctioning cloaking system. They couldn't risk flying it again without being caught.
Natasha nodded. "It's not a problem. When my boyfriend needs bailing out of trouble, I'll always be here for him."
"You zip it."
Viola chuckled and moved to sit on one of the benches. "Where did you get the jet? It doesn't look SHIELD-issue."
"That's because it's not. It's Stark's."
Viola winced. Duh. "Right."
Once Clint lowered himself into the pilot's seat, he flipped the switch to close the bay doors and slipped on a headset. "Who wants to be my co-pilot?"
"Dibs," Natasha called, heading over.
Not that Viola was going to prevent the couple from having their private moment up front. They hadn't seen each other in months. Feeling suddenly awkward, she scooted further back into the jet and lay down as the engines powered up. The past few days at Clint and Natasha's safe house had been… peaceful, to say the least. Surrounded by nature. Beautiful scenery. But also isolated and with very little contact with the outside world. They'd found ways to keep themselves occupied, but Viola had never been one to sit still very long. She'd been getting restless, staying in one place, not moving too much so she could heal, doing chores, playing cards. It was cool at first. New. Different. But she tired of it easily and became bored after only three days.
Just a little longer, Viola, she told her self. A few more hours and you can go home. Not that there was anything better to do at home besides clean. The apartment was probably a mess. Chet better be taking good care of her jade plants. If she got back and found out they were dead, she was going to be pissed.
But what was she going to do with herself now that SHIELD was gone? Romanoff had filled her in on the phone about everything that had happened. Viola was going to assume that it was safe to say that her career as a SHIELD agent was over. She had no job. No income. No source of excitement or adrenaline. The whole reason she started working for SHIELD in the first place was because she was behind on her rent and drowning in student loans and needed a job ASAP.
God, she hated job hunting.
She'd somehow survived all of university thinking she could work some boring office job. She'd been so determined not to give in to her addiction to adrenaline or to be reckless. But after graduation, no one would hire her and her roommate had moved to England and she'd been left to fend for herself. SHIELD had come knocking on her door (multiple times), but it wasn't until she started getting eviction notices that she finally accepted.
She'd justified having such a dangerous job with the amount of good she was doing. SHIELD was an organization that tried to maintain peace. It was security. It was government. That used to mean it was something she could (should) trust.
Not anymore.
It had been weak to give in to her addiction. Living dangerously for the sake of that rush right before you die or get hurt. Except it no longer felt like an addiction. It felt like a way of life. Maybe that was just the way she was. She had never taken risks when the stakes were too high. She had never endangered others for the sake of getting a rush. Sharon had said that that was part of what made her a good leader.
Viola was pretty sure she was just bossy.
But where would she go after SHIELD? She'd been an agent for four years. She'd been working her way up. She'd aspired (albeit loosely) to become director one day. Now all of that was down the drain and far, far into the ocean.
"Viola?"
She lifted her head to look toward the cock pit. Clint had his head angled toward her but his eyes were in the sky. "Yeah?"
"Do you want to come with us to Tony's place?"
She blinked in surprise. "Wait, where?"
"Well, he hasn't actually told us yet," Natasha confessed with a shrug. "But I did some snooping and I'm pretty sure he's got a mansion or something he's taking us to. You're welcome to come with us."
"Oh, no, that's okay. Just drop me off somewhere in Manhattan and I'll be okay."
"That's kind of vague," Clint pointed out, still talking to the windshield.
"Well, I figured you couldn't just park this thing anywhere on the island."
"No, but we can drop you off. Literally."
Oh. "That works too. I live in Midtown. West forty-second street."
Clint whistled. "How'd you snag a place there?"
"It took a lot of damage during the Battle of New York. It's kind of… broken."
"Broken how?"
Seeing that this conversation didn't seem to be coming to an end, Viola stood up and walked up to the cock pit, leaning her elbows on the shoulders of both seats. "Well, the air conditioning and heating doesn't work. The windows won't open. The stove is faulty. The lights keep flickering on and off. The landlord didn't bother repainting after the reconstruction was finished so it looks really shabby. I'm pretty sure there's mould somewhere. I don't think the fire alarms even work. And it smells."
"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Natasha offered more seriously. "It sounds like you live in a shit hole."
"I do. But all my stuff is there and I've been there since the invasion. I mean, I used to live on the original helicarrier, but… that didn't turn out too well."
Clint frowned. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"It was partly my fault that the helicarrier was attacked in the first place."
"Don't start with this," Natasha chastised.
"I said 'partly'! I think that's progress."
She rolled her eyes.
Viola pursed her lips. "Right. Loki brainwashed you, right?"
Natasha glared at her. Viola was tempted to shrink back, but managed to hold her ground. Clint was stoic for a minute. Then: "Yeah. He did."
Well this was a topic that Viola didn't want to broach. "So yeah, just drop me off near Midtown. Heck, drop me off in Hell's Kitchen or anywhere on the island of Manhattan and I'll make my way home. Yeah, it's shitty, but the people are really nice - well, some of my neighbours are really nice. And I've neglected my plants for too long. I need to collect my things and… yeah, it's just easier if you drop me off there."
"What are you going to do? Now that SHIELD's no longer an option." Natasha seemed to be over Viola's little misstep back there. She seemed perfectly amiable at the moment. Then again, this was the Black Widow. It could all be a ruse.
Viola shook her head. "No idea. I have a degree in mythology. Not much I can do with that."
"Museum curator?" Natasha suggested.
"I've tried to get into that business and have failed miserably." She sighed. "But I supposed I'll have to try again. What about you guys? Are you just going to be full-time Avengers?"
The two pilots shared a look that Viola couldn't decipher. Reading people had never been her strong suit. "Probably," Natasha answered. "Our identities are public so I doubt we'd be able to find jobs easily."
"Plus Tony's like the fourth richest guy on the planet or something so… I think we're set for money."
"And room and board."
"We've got it pretty good, don't we Tash?"
Natasha smiled. "Yeah. We do."
Viola jumped out of Stark's private jet somewhere over Hell's Kitchen. Yeah, this was probably illegal, but she was parachuting into an alleyway in the middle of the night so chances were that she wouldn't get caught.
Well. She hoped.
Her experience sky diving and parachuting came in very handy as her accuracy steered her straight down between two walls. She unhooked herself and was tempted to keep walking just to look cool, but knew that no one was watching. She gathered the material of the parachute in her arms and dropped it in a nearby dumpster.
It wasn't too far of a walk to her apartment. Maybe ten minutes. She started walking, glad she was wearing converse. She'd kind of stolen them from Clint and Natasha's safe house (with permission so it wasn't really stealing).
Hell's Kitchen was weird at night. Unlike the rest of Manhattan, the streets were pretty empty. There were always people around, but only a few at each corner. A few streets away was Times Square, which was packed with people at all hours of the day. Viola kind of liked the quiet of Hell's Kitchen, though it always seemed a bit eerie. Maybe kind of false. The city noise was always there, but between these buildings it was muffled.
"Hey, princess!"
Oh great. She rolled her eyes and didn't bother turning around. Instead, she gave him the finger as she walked away.
"Yeah, you better run!"
What? Hm. Well that guy was obviously drunk. She didn't even have to look to know that he was probably going vomit all over himself later. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her purple hoodie (also stolen from the safe house) and huffed. It was a brisk night; brisk enough that she could see her breath in a puff of white. The cold nipped at her nose and ears so she pulled up the hood as well. Winter was fast approaching, but snow had yet to arrive, for which she was grateful.
She made it home without incident, but realized very belatedly that she forgot the code to get in. Three months in Africa will do that to you. She buzzed Chet's apartment, praying he was home and not called in to work or sleeping or something.
Luck was with her, it seemed, because he answered almost right away. "Hello?"
"Chet, it's Viola. Can you let me up? It's been a while and I can't remember the code." No answer. She waited, shifting her stance awkwardly. It wasn't much warmer in here. "Chet?"
"What's with all that stuff I'm seeing on the news about SHIELD being Hydra?"
Ugh. Shit. Not now. "That statement is only half true. Only half of SHIELD… ish… turned out to be Hydra. I'm on the half that's good."
"I'm just supposed to take your word on that?"
"Chet. Be real. I babysit your daughter at least once a week when I'm here. I am not Hydra and I pose no threat to you or Angie. You can search my apartment if you want. I have nothing to hide." Well, she did, but nothing worth sleeping in the streets tonight.
It took several moments for Chet to reply. "Alright. Come on up. I'll meet you in the hallway."
The door buzzed and unlocked. "Thank you!" She called to the speaker before pulling the door open and walking into the lobby. The elevator was out of service. Again. She sighed. Ten flights of stairs normally wasn't a problem for someone as athletic as her, but she was tired and still healing from a bullet wound and all she wanted was to fall into bed.
She began the climb.
Ten flights later, she emerged onto her floor and found Chet waiting for her, arms crossed over his chest. He was still dressed in his security guard uniform. It hung off his shoulders slightly, a bit baggy around the waist. Was he thinner? Did he just get back from work? He must have gotten Mr. and Mrs. Ali across the hall to watch Angie.
Viola sighed. "Chet, it's good to see you, but I really don't want to deal with this right now. It's late. I'm tired. I've had a long few months. I just want to sleep."
He didn't move. He seemed to be sizing her up.
"Can we talk about this in the morning? Please? I'll have you and Angie over for coffee and biscuits and cereal and stuff. If everything in my pantry isn't rotten," she added as an after thought.
Chet still didn't budge.
"I'm not Hydra," she dead panned. "If I wanted you dead, you would be by now."
That did not seem to reassure him.
"Fine. You're not getting between me and my sleep." She reached into her hair and pulled out two bobby pins. She knelt down and started picking her own lock. She could feel Chet's gaze boring into her back. She did her best to ignore him.
"If you keep doing that, your lock eventually won't work," he warned.
"Then I'll buy a new one," she responded easily. The lock clicked and she pushed the door open. She stood. Before she could step inside, a hand on her shoulder immediately had her tense. But Chet made no move to attack.
"It's good to have you back," he said. She turned to face him. He smiled tiredly at her. "Innocent until proven guilty, right?"
She smiled back, relieved. "Thank you. My plants better not be dead," she teased, knowing he was too responsible to ever let that happen.
"Don't worry. I watered them for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key she'd given him. He held it out to her. "Sorry about before. You can just never be too careful, right? Especially here."
"Right." Wrong. She accepted the key from him.
"I'm gonna take you up on that offer of coffee in the morning. I want to hear about this Hydra-SHIELD debacle."
She held back a sigh. "Of course. How's ten?"
He chuckled. "Sleeping in?"
"Oh yeah."
"Ten's fine."
"Great. Goodnight, Chet."
"Night."
She entered her apartment and closed her door behind her. It was almost exactly as she'd left it. Papers strewn all over the counter and kitchen table. Dishes stacked high next to the sink, rinsed but not clean. Jade plants at every window, the thick leaves stretching toward the source of their sunlight.
She sniffed. It even smelled the same: stuffy with a hint of mould. She usually burned incense or scented candles to mask the smell, but being away for several months did not do anything any favours. She would have to hunt down that mould eventually and get rid of it, but she couldn't be bothered at the moment.
The bedroom was untouched since she left. A layer of dust covered the dresser and her desk. Both were piled high with clothes, unfolded and tossed haphazardly in one pile or the next. The bed was lazily made, the comforter crooked and the pillow cases wrinkled. Before she could sink into it, something she didn't remember being there before caught her eye.
A small black card lay on her desk, peeking out from underneath the pile of clean clothes that she'd meant to sort before she left. She pulled it out and turned it over. The only thing written on it was a phone number, but she recognized the SHIELD insignia and instantly remembered where she'd gotten this. Coulson had given it to her after the possessed Justine Hammer had attacked New York. He'd offered her a spot on his team.
She highly doubted that offer was still on the table. Even if SHIELD hadn't just completely collapsed and destroyed itself, it had been months since she'd been given that card. But she didn't throw it away. She set it back down on the desk and jumped into bed. Dreamland awaited.