Treading across the clipped lawn in the late evening light, Holly managed to get inside the unremarkable apartment building, tiredness permeating her form. Shrugging harder into the hoodie she'd thrown on (though it wasn't all that cold out), she pressed the call button. The inevitable buzz and click rang out in the vestibule moments later; it was good to know that her arrival text had obviously been received, the other person waiting on her end to let her in. Shuffling down the hall, she cleared her throat, stopping before a door with the number 7 screwed in below the peephole. Patting at the loose braid containing her wavy hair before letting her fist knock, she wasn't shocked that the door swung open only a second or two later. Some relief bloomed in her chest as she looked down at her shorter friend, Sarah Collins' green eyes lighting up at the sight of her. For a moment, at least.
"Holl." One look at her forehead, and the petite blonde's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "Oh, Christ…"
Holly sighed, mouth turning down at the profanity; she definitely was wishing she'd gotten a bandage to plaster over the stitches. Leaning against the door frame, she inhaled slowly, rubbing at her eyes. Red-rimmed and raw, she also wished she'd had something on hand for them. Tissues, or at least something better than the ends of her sweatshirt sleeves. Swiping at her face once more with the dark red fabric, she took stock of her friend's glances darting all over her face. So much of her body language was shouting, "something's wrong" that it couldn't be ignored.
"Yeah, I know. It's a long story," she intoned, going into the apartment as Sarah stepped aside and shut the door. Another person was there, sitting up quickly and snatching up the remote to turn the television off. Aaron, Sarah's boyfriend, was still wearing his Apple shirt. No doubt he'd come off a shift at the store, she noted as she dipped her chin in greeting. Glasses were on his face, his hair now at chin length and swinging around his face as he pivoted towards them. Feeling a little awkward, she returned his bright grin with a smirk of her own, the expression fading as she looked between the couple. "Sorry to crash in on you guys. I just need..."
Trailing off, she swallowed against the catch in her throat, willing herself not to slide backwards. A palm pressed against her back, guiding her to the sofa. Sarah sat her down at one end, sharing a glance with Aaron as she did so.
"Of course, hon," the petite woman said, the endearment an indicator of how far gone Holly must have appeared. Snorting to herself, Holly did as she was bid, arms folding around her middle. Taking the center seat, Sarah wrinkled her nose, wondering how best to persuade her friend into opening up, thinking of the probable cause. "We heard about the attacks in Africa, and..."
Holly grimaced. Having heard nothing from the team since they'd departed to track down Klaue, she' kept tuned to the news stations as she made her trek back to D.C., the report coming in when she was nearly back. The details were shocking, to say the least. The Hulk had rampaged through the city of Johannesburg, causing millions of dollars of damage. Even with Iron Man coming in to eliminate the green monster's threat, it could not prevent people from being scarred. Or lives being lost, as speculation went (no reports confirming or denying had been made yet). It left her with a thumping heart, stomach dropping as she considered it. And there had been no indication of the other Avengers making it into that arena. Where were they?
"They've been and gone, that's all I know," she told her friend, arms tightening around her torso. "Radio silence otherwise."
Sarah inclined her head, a frown creasing her brow. That was about all that the local stations had picked up on as well with great detail paid to the disaster in downtown Johannesburg. What they were doing in South Africa was not yet known, and to be honest, she didn't hold out much hope that the reporters would ever have the full story. The Avengers had been all over the globe the last year. It was a common occurrence now for them to just appear out of thin air somewhere, with no explanations given until either their objective was reached or if Tony Stark felt like addressing remarks levied against them. More often than not, they left questions when there should be answers. While she couldn't deny the good they were doing, Sarah couldn't help but think that there should be a better line of communication between the Avengers and the public. But that was an opinion that could wait to be expounded on. The wavering brown eyes that darted to her and away were still red, and Sarah wanted to know what her friend was going through.
"Is that all that's going on?" she asked, maintaining her gaze. Snickering humorlessly, she brushed her fingers over the sleeve of the old scarlet hoodie, the ends balled around Holly's hands, most likely. Gesturing to the other woman's entire person, she supplied, "Seriously, you look you've been dragged backward through a pricker patch."
A snort came out of Holly in response, her arms uncurling and her hands freeing themselves from the material around them. "More like I've been hit by a ton of bricks."
"What else happened to you?" Aaron piped up then, asserting himself into the conversation. It wasn't often that he spoke with her, but when he did interact with Holly, she did notice that he was quite nice and funny. The pair would often argue the merits of the major Star series—he the Trekkie, her the Jedi—but it was usually done with humor and civility. They had gotten to know one another, due to the shared acquaintance, and Holly was glad for it. He'd be concerned, for Sarah's sake if for nothing else, but she didn't think that was just the case.
A part of her knew that Sarah wanted details regarding her head injury, but she didn't want to start with that. The situation with Ultron was still very much a secret, Steve's hope being that they could stop the robotic nightmare before things got so out of control the public would notice. Evidently that idea was out the window, but she still wasn't sure what could be told. And she was in no mood to hide the truth; that could risk another dressing down, she mused bitterly. Rather, she decided to speak about the most immediate problem that crossed her path.
Exhaling sharply, she focused on the far wall, concentrating on Sarah's dancing trophies to distract her from the hurt as it resurfaced. "...Well, I got back into town awhile ago..."
xXxXxXx
The blue Buick rolled into the parking lot, the brunette putting the car in park and leaning forward to rest her head against the wheel. The drive back into town had been a knot-twisting, anxious nightmare, fraught with nerves and fury as she tore down from New York City. Holly knew she should've just called in the request, but she wanted to get things arranged at home as well. She didn't know how long she would be in residence at the Tower, and she wanted to make sure she had enough to get by. However, she needed to put in her request first, at least getting it formally declared. When she'd gotten back, she did tell Carl she'd be coming into the office for a time to fill out the paperwork. Weekends were half days, and generally her presence was not expected then. It would be closed by the time she arrived, which was what she wanted. She didn't want strangers staring at her, the people who knew of her affiliation with Captain America pushing themselves forward, desperate for a piece of gossip regarding the attacks in Africa. She didn't know if she could put up with that.
Exiting the vehicle, she reached into the backseat, throwing on a sweatshirt before climbing out of the car. Keys in hand, she locked it up and was fiddling with the ring to find the one for the back door when it flew open. Startled, she breath out a shaky laugh when she recognized the person standing there. Older gentleman with thinning gray hair and muddled brown eyes, posture good even with the slight stoop to his shoulders; Carl was there, turning up his sleeves and holding open the portal for her. About to call out a greeting, she was pulled up short by the serious look on his face, biting her lip as his eyes swept up to her forehead and back. A part of her felt relieved when he didn't comment on her stitches, but she still was confused by his physical coldness. The hard edges of it made her wince internally, and the smile that had crept to her lips vanished in an instant.
"Holly," he said, tone flat and troubling. Before she could formulate any sort of answer, he turned on his heel, motioning for her to follow. "Come with me."
"Carl?" Elongating his name in question, she couldn't understand the stolidness of his demeanor. Had something happened at the store that day? Was his daughter Jenna hurt or something at the hospital she worked at? There was no answer, just the briefest pause in their trip into the store as he swept into her office, picking up a manilla folder that had been left on her desk (which definitely was not there when she'd left Friday afternoon). Midway up the steps to the second level, it occurred to her that she'd seen him behave like this before. It was his way of distancing himself from bad news...when he had to give it to someone else.
Leading her to the bank of arm chairs upstairs, he waited until she'd chosen her chair. The reading area had been nestled in the far back corner, and was Holly's favorite place to break during the day. Hidden in the back, it was a private oasis in the midst of a long day, with the window there providing good natural light and the nearby section of books boasting good titles. If it were a private study, she'd thought, there would be a fireplace, flames crackling merrily within. Instead, they made do with the overhead lighting, the floors creaking lightly as they trod the boards. Carl sat across from her, arms settling on the rests of the chair, his careworn face creasing as he pondered his next words. Handing her the file in his hand, he nodded to it, allowing her to read the contents. It was a report drawn up by his accountant, she could see that much.
Though the bookstore wasn't struggling horribly, it still was not performing as it had in the past. The truth was, it had been in a slow decline over the last ten years. Things were getting to the point that in order to justify certain expenditures, certain things had to be adjusted, or removed entirely. As he explained it all, the words washing over her, Holly felt dread build inside of her. She'd seen the figures herself, so that wasn't a surprise to her. It was the idea that things had to be altered due to those facts. The last few months, though, were a different story. She'd been walking on increasingly fragile eggshells for other reasons, and now she could logically conclude where that had gotten her, despite her efforts.
Gritting her teeth, she breathed slowly out of her nose, taking the verbal plunge and cutting Carl off midstream. "You're firing me."
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the older man's mouth worked a little as he tried to do damage control.
"Actually, I'm laying you off. With one month's compensation and the ability to collect unemployment afterward." Running a hand through his thin tresses, he leaned forward in his seat, the coldness of his demeanor melting away. Replacing it with a form of pity, it ate at her to see it. "This isn't...look, if the situation were different, this wouldn't be happening."
"What, like if there weren't budgeting concerns?" she muttered sarcastically, smirking a little to let him know it was at least half in jest. Though he didn't smile back, she did the corner of his mouth lift slightly. Swiping a hand over his face, the older man sighed.
"Financially, the assistant manager position isn't sound. Not when there's no longer a real need for it." That was true, both in the paperwork provided and in reality; he'd created the position years ago when the popularity of the store was higher, and when he needed the help so he could take the time to raise his daughter. With Jenna fully grown and move out, his attention could be back on the floor. Having a second set of hands was no longer necessary. "Again, you'll be compensated for the next month, and if you wish to use me as a reference in the future, I will gladly be one. Look, it's been heading down this way for a couple years now; it's just now that it's coming to a head. I just need to cut costs."
Tilting her head to the right, Holly's eyes narrowed slightly. "Right, we're going to pretend that this has nothing to do with me, personally."
Inwardly, she was screaming at herself for further antagonizing the situation. But she wasn't about to let Carl go on without calling attention to the harsh truth he wasn't addressing. It was not a problem with her personally, she knew that. It was her associations, and even though he'd been supportive of them for a time, his willingness to put up with it had run its course. Whether he wanted to allude to it or not, she knew that he was deeply uncomfortable with the notoriety she was gaining steadily, and given the Avengers' capacity to get into trouble, he feared that it would indirectly come down on them all. Raising her eyebrows, she waited as his sprang together, his expression unapologetic.
"Safety is a major concern, too, I'll give you that. But unlike the major corporations, I can't give more security than I can provide. And my employees have a right to feel safe when they come in to work, and not be looking over the shoulder for whatever due to what could be following you. Whether or not it'd be after you specifically."
An unpalatable truth, and it stung her to hear it. But she couldn't deny the legitimacy of it, no matter how much she hunched her shoulders and wanted to block her ears.
"That's not fair," she muttered, gaze fastening onto her knees.
"I know it's not," her boss conceded, the understanding in his voice making her feel worse for it. "But Holly, honestly, what else can I do?"
Snappish retorts cropped up, mostly just profanities at a loud volume in her mind. There were other choices Carl could have made, and instead he decided to go with the easiest one. About to say as much, her mouth kept a tight rein on her tongue, not allowing it past her teeth while she forced herself to really think about the matter. Certainly, she could contest the decision, take Carl to court if she wanted (although she had no earthly idea how to go about a wrongful termination suit). But given that she wasn't actually being fired, and he had a legitimate concern, one more legitimate than inappropriate attire or a terrible attitude, she didn't know if she would pursue such a course. Looking at him for a moment, she noticed the worry lines in his forehead had become more pronounced, his brown eyes watching her without guile. She'd known Carl for five years, knew that this was a decision he hadn't made lightly. He cared deeply for his store, for everybody who walked through the door. He cared about her, in his own way; it would have been impossible to stay as long as she had if they couldn't tolerate one another. The figures and everything came together at the worst possible moment, which he didn't predict happening.
Was it worth it, fighting for a position that was lost to her, no matter what the reason? One major blowout a day was enough for her, and frankly, she was too exhausted to put herself in another one. And more to the point, she'd known that her tenure there was coming to an end. If it wasn't Carl ending it, it would be her choice, given that when she would move in with Steve permanently, they would not be residing in D.C. The only thing she'd lost was ending it on her terms. Breathing deep, Holly rose from her chair, gaze dropping to the floor.
"I'll just...get my things from the office, then," she finally murmured, her voice quavering slightly. Biting on her tongue again as she glanced up, she chided herself inwardly for letting the barrier break. A wave of sadness overtook her, and to her horror she felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. Lifting a shoulder, she raised her hand, the gesture a hard one to make as she allowed Carl to shake it. "Thanks."
"Thank you, Holly," the older man emphasized, regret growing in his gaze. Gently, he laid his other hand over hers, the gesture kindly meant as he tapped her fingers. "I was glad to have you on board while I could. You're a good kid."
On impulse, Holly tugged away from his grip, hugging him around his middle. Though their work relationship had its ups and downs, she'd grown to care for Carl over the years. His spirit and tenacity had been a constant in her life for awhile, and she would miss it. Carefully, he encircled her with his arms, fatherly pats grazing her back before he released her.
"You be careful, you and the walking target of a fiancé," he said, impressing the point with a well-meaning look. A watery grin bloomed on her lips as she stepped back, sniffing a bit and not giving into the water pooling at the corners of her eyes.
"I'll do what I can."
xXxXxXx
When she'd finished saying her piece, Holly silently chuckled at the aghast look on her friend's face. On top of being injured (something which she glossed over as best she could, citing being caught in the crossfire of a scuffle as the excuse, which was somewhat true) she'd lost her livelihood. And, as she told it, spent the next couple of hours in a numb haze of tidying up her apartment and holding back the tears...as well as not calling and telling her family the details. Sarah hadn't really approved of that decision, but she knew that her friend did not want to worry her parents or siblings. Inducing panic over events she couldn't control was not something she was ready to deal with. Later, when the entire mess that was her life at the moment was more at an even keel, she would call them, let them know. When the stitches came out, she'd muttered, thinking Sarah wouldn't hear her properly. She let Holly keep that illusion.
"Oh, God," the petite blonde murmured instead. "I do not envy the weekend you've had."
A commiserating hum came from Aaron's end of the couch, and Holly looked around her friend to send him a glance in agreement.
"Yeah, it's been nuts."
"Well, you'll stay over tonight," Sarah told her confidently, assured of her plan. "My couch is your couch."
Holly shook her head, the strands of hair framing her face fluttering as she did so. "I can't. I'm going back to the city."
The befuddled look on her friend's face was funny, but Holly quickly bit her lip to stop the giggles from surfacing. Spluttering slightly, Sarah shot her green gaze over her shoulder to her boyfriend, who merely shrugged in response. Turning back to the other woman, her voice shook with emotion.
"But you just got here. And after that crap happened? No way."
Clearing her throat, Holly leaned back into the cushions of the couch. "Staying here is...not possible. It's not safe. I'm risking a lot just by being here as long as I am."
There was no refuting that; the longer she stayed out in the open, the longer she let herself be exposed, there was potential for a disaster. While she didn't fool herself into thinking Ultron would have any designs on her specifically, she couldn't let herself be lulled into a false sense of security in her lesser standing. If the automaton wanted to find and use the weak points of the Avengers against them, he need only turn his attention to their allies. She wasn't the only one who had to watch out; Jane and Pepper were under close guard as well, if the insinuations their partners had made earlier in the day were anything to go by. And the allies in turn had to watch out for their friends. No, she couldn't stay. She didn't want to put Sarah in harm's way, nor her family. Going back was the course she'd chosen, the best out of a myriad of conflicting choices.
Aaron frowned, more in thought than disapproval. "Is the Tower really any safer than your apartment?"
"I don't even know, but it's where I need to be," Holly said, cupping a hand in the air. And, strange thought that it was, it was where she wanted to be. Stewing in her apartment, too far from her fiancé, her grief and rage filling her, was not what she wanted to deal with. At least at the Tower, she could have news of Steve quicker than she could at home, and not think about losing her job while concentrating on other matters. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she continued, "I really can't be anywhere else right now."
Had she been looking at her friend, she would have noticed the stiffness in her posture, so unlike her normal fluidity that it made her boyfriend shuffle nervously in his seat. Several emotions flitted over Sarah's face that one could not be narrowed down, her eyes boring a hole into the side of her friend's head. When Holly finally glanced back at her, she nearly sidled away at the burn in the green as they met her brown.
"You could," Sarah almost whispered. Holly's eyebrows rose.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Sarah dug in stubbornly, voice raising. "You could choose to stay instead of go. You don't have to keep putting yourself in danger."
Taken aback, the older woman scoffed lightly, canting her head. "It's not just me at risk, Sare. That's why I'm going back. And for the record, I'm not asking for this to happen. Never have."
"But it is, and you're letting it happen, just for..." Sarah trailed off, and by the look on her face, Holly could see that she was mentally preparing herself to charge ahead with her thoughts. And they wouldn't be ones she agreed with, if the defensive expression was read right. "Look, Steve is a great guy, but...what will go wrong the next time this happens? And God knows it will. You could end up in traction, or worse, just for being around. Is this really something you want to deal with for the rest of your life?"
To punctuate her point, Sarah tapped Holly's left hand below the ring finger, bringing focus to the claddagh. Holly's jaw dropped open, her brain working furiously at all her friend was insinuating, no, pleading. Her heart ached a little more as she saw the pain surface in Sarah's face; it was no sinecure, watching her being pulled this way and that, her life changing daily due, in some part, to the man in her life. But Steve, while very important to her, did not hold total command; if he had been controlling, she would have dumped him a long time ago. Holly had accepted the changes, the good and the bad, because it was her choice to do so. Because she felt it was what she needed to do. And yes, because she loved Steve. Maybe it had made some of her motives questionable, made her decisions turn out poorly. Perhaps that made her stupid, or selfish, but it was what it was. The going was getting tough, but she wasn't going to pull an about-face and head for the hills. Holly was constitutionally incapable of doing so, and Sarah understood that better than almost anyone.
Rubbing her thumb against the gold, against her inner finger, she met Sarah's gaze squarely. "You already know what my answer to that is."
The response was instant, but stinging. Sarah dropped her hand from her shoulder as though she'd been scalded by the touch. Mutely, she shook her head, blonde curls shifting as she rose from her seat. Padding away, she shot a furious glare over her shoulder when Holly tried to cajole her, calling her name a few times. Entering the bedroom at the far end, the door clicked in place, leaving her best friend frozen and blinking when she did so.
'So that's it, then,' Holly thought, numbness invading her mind as she continued to stare at the immobile wood. 'I'm surprised she isn't screaming, honestly.'
Sarah had a propensity to be very vocal about the things she disagreed with in life, even if it was with her friends. Having dealt with a couple of towering inferno matches with the petite woman (mostly as a spectator, but the young ladies got into the odd tiff or two on occasion), she knew that whatever was broiling below the surface had to be bad enough that she wasn't going to address it. Sarah was the sort who would force a confrontation if she felt such a thing was necessary—again, another thing her erstwhile best friend had been on the receiving end of. The stony, cold reaction was something Holly was very unfamiliar with, and it made her stomach tense as the seconds passed.
Aaron nodded in the direction his girlfriend had gone, giving Holly a strained grin. "We'll give her a minute. Besides, if she were really angry, she'd be yelling."
The unconscious mirroring of their thoughts made Holly's mouth lift at the corner. Smart man, she thought, but then again, he always had the propensity. Okay, yes, he'd had a momentary lapse in failing to recognize a famous hero in disguise (an incident both men were still somewhat embarrassed about to that day; Steve because it had been a low point in his life, Aaron because he could not believe it even happened in the first place) but that wasn't the sum of his whole person. He was kind and able to read people well. He had an open heart, something Holly could admire. Sarah finding him had been good. As he adjusted the square rim glasses perched upon his nose, contacts removed for the day, he tucked his dark blond hair behind his ear and sat up again.
"Meanwhile, you're going to drive back?" Aaron let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Ten hours in one day is crazy."
"Actually, I was think of taking the train," she confessed, a part of her tightening at the thought of enduring another stint on the freeway. Flicking a few fingers into the air, she continued, "It'll shave off the commute time, and if I leave in the middle of the night, it won't cost too much more than gas would."
Not to mention she was slightly afraid that a psychotic automaton had looked up her information, finding her DMV records and could have his metal counterparts on the hunt for her that way. Better to ditch the vehicle for the time being, go through public transit and hide in plain sight as best she could. With some money saved up, it was an option. Getting up, Aaron trod over to the nearby dining space, fetching an open laptop off the table and passing it off to her.
"Well, to quote a famous cartoon character: to the Internet!" he proclaimed, pleased to get a chuckle out of her as he did so. The levity soothed the persistent ache, even if it didn't make it disappear. As she began to research departure times an ticket costs, she sighed again.
"By any chance, would you know someone who works for the train company who gets fantastic discounts?"
Aaron grinned sardonically. "Oh, if only it could be that easy."
Holly snorted. "I wish."
Searching for several minutes longer, the most affordable fare ended up being a ticket for a train leaving at eleven o'clock, a few scant hours away. When all was said and done, she would be in New York again by three in the morning, factoring in the cab ride she'd have to take from the station to the Tower. Her car would be driven back to her apartment lot in the morning, her keys surrendered into Aaron's capable hands. For the time being; in truth, she was handing them over to Sarah, but as she still kept to the bedroom, Holly had to make adjustments. With promises to talk Sarah down from whatever place she'd ascended, he left her to get some sleep on the couch, claiming she wouldn't get much of it on the train. Dozing fitfully, a hand on her shoulder roused her some time later, and she found herself staring up into her best friend's flinty gaze. They had to get to the station, and fast. Making a pit stop at the trunk of her car, she swept out the small duffel there, a few things making the trip up with her. The ride over, Holly riding in back while Aaron drove and Sarah stared out the passenger window, was silent; not even the radio was on. Street lamps filtered in and out of her vision, her breaths deep as she contemplated everything that had happened. Would things look better in the morning, in the dawn? She wasn't so sure.
Arriving in due time, the trio made their way into the station, hovering at the edge of the ticket claim for a moment. Inhaling shakily, Holly turned to look at her comrade. The blonde's expression was bordering on tormented, and when she glanced up, the spark in her vision made something catch in Holly's throat. Enfolding her arms around her, Sarah squeezed tightly when she reciprocated.
"I'm scared for you, Holly," she told her, the confession exposing her more than she wanted. If anybody hated admitting to a weakness, it was Sarah. She was supposed to be strong, untouchable, as infallible a person as she was seen as a teacher. But, like with so many people, she had her weak spots. Holly just hugged her harder as she went on, "I love you."
"I know. I love you, too, Sare," she replied, pulling back after a moment and a lump forming in her throat. Discreetly swiping at the corners of her eyes, she let out a huff and visibly shook herself to calm down. Forcing herself to look up, she reached out, gesturing for Aaron to come closer. When he approached, she set her palm against his shoulder, giving him a broken grin. "Thanks, Aaron, for all your help."
Not just for providing her with tools, but still giving her shelter, and more importantly, for building a bridge to peace between the two women. He was a good guy, and a good friend as well. Something she would do well to remember.
The bigger guy's answering smile was a bit strained, but still he was able to return her gesture. "Not a problem."
Nodding, Holly shouldered her bag, leaving the pair with a tiny wave. Traversing across the platforms, she boarded her train in time, moving silently into the quiet cabin. Carelessly, she shunted her bag onto the seat beside her, clambering into the chair by the window, and showing her ticket to the passing employee as she went. Plopping down, a haggard gasp ripped out of her. So much was rattling around her brain, her mind racing with everything and nothing. It was a lot to take in, the forty-eight hours, a hard day that had blended into worse nights. It was difficult, very little joy to be had in the darkness. To be honest, she just didn't want to think about it and so resolved not to. Pulling out her phone, she plugged in her earbuds, calming piano tones enveloping her as she reached into her bag and pulled out a book. She had packed it haphazardly, and so when she looked down at the cover and saw the work of J.K. Rowling staring up at her. The third Harry Potter book, she remarked to herself, and she hadn't read it in a dog's age. Turning it over, she let it flip open, the words blurring as she scanned down the page, a single line standing out starkly.
Mouthing the words to herself, the narrative speaking about a spark of light brightening even the darkest of places made a shiver run down her spine. Snapping the book shut and folding her arms around it, she curled up on the seat, stitched forehead resting against the cool glass as she pressed the novel to her heart and fell asleep again.
xXxXxXx
The quinjet soared deftly through the air, the stars shining down as it coasted above the cloud coverage. The grays and blacks swathed it, shielding the people within from all the rest of the world. The Avengers had to wait for the sun to set, the jet landing on the opposite side of Madagascar so the affected ones could recuperate. Under the cover of darkness could they truly feel safe to fly, and in the meantime, Stark tended to reestablishing communications with the programmed satellite and recalibrating the stealth mechanisms to further ensure safety. Thor and Clint helped him silently, while Natasha and Steve tended to Bruce, bringing the doctor back from his stupor inch by inch. Once the sun had disappeared over the horizon, they took off, intent on putting as much distance between the failure in South Africa and them as possible.
The gray blanket was wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his shivering causing him to pull it closer still. Shaking, sweating, Bruce had awoken some time ago, whimpering as he came back to reality. Huddled against the center seating console of the quinjet, he drew his knees up to his chest, feeling all of ten years old again. Angry, resentful…terrified. He refused to close his eyes, blot out the horrors of what he'd caused. It was better to remember what he'd done in Johannesburg than rest. Behind his eyelids lay the scene, playing over and over again like a bad movie he couldn't escape. The worst fears, being trapped in his rage, unable to revert back and killing all in his path, were close to being realized mere hours ago. All he could recall was the fury, the boiling his blood as everything that was precious and good was crushed beneath him. His own folly drove him to that point, the Maximoff girl forcing him to replay it over and over again as he rampaged. It was a vicious cycle, and he despaired of ever escaping it.
'Monster,' he taunted himself, too locked into the thought to push it aside. 'That's all you are.'
Hill's voice practically echoed through the cabin as she reported in. Stark had called in for an update stateside, to see how the battles were being received. Presently, only Clint and he were of sound enough mind to check in. Their team leader was lost in his own fog, responsibilities hovering beyond his consciousness at the moment. The initial prognosis definitely didn't seem good, Bruce thought dully, shifting uncomfortably on the floor. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he listened in as she told Tony how his freedom, his liberty, were being discussed. Recent events showed him at his worst, and the world had no idea how to respond to that.
Bruce swallowed. Here it was; he'd known it would only be a matter of time before the authorities would decide he was too dangerous to be left at loose ends. And truthfully, he didn't disagree with them. All that remained was the actual length of time it took for them to resume the manhunt for him. Perhaps…perhaps it would be for the best, locking him up, keeping him away from the world. It was clear how little good he was actually doing while at liberty.
Tony hummed under his breath, discontent underlying his next words. "Well, looks like Stark Relief won't be going under any time soon."
The talk went on for some time, bits and pieces floating through Bruce's consciousness as Maria confessed that a return to the Tower would be detrimental. Riots could ensue if anybody there saw them fly in, and they would be more than willing to flay Bruce alive for his deplorable actions, as well as the rest of the team for their inability to stop him. As well as that, Ultron would count on them going back to their base, and if he could count on finding them easily, he could strike in a much worse way than he had mere days beforehand. Stark snorted when Hill suggested they find alternate accommodations. In his mind, Bruce could see her smooth veneer breaking, concern and helplessness bleeding through. What other option could she supply, when things were so tenuous?
Quietness came over the line, a couple of minutes passing with no further discussion to be had. The assistant hesitated for a fraction of a second, peering hard at her employer and beyond. "Anything else, boss?"
Following her gaze, Tony took in the broken assembly of his friends. All of them save Steve avoided his gaze, and he merely gave a silent shake of the head before concentrating on his fingers flexing in his gauntlets. Perhaps he should say something, leave her with some profound wisdom of the Stark variety, but it seemed for the moment that the well had run dry. Rather, he moved his hand towards the disconnect switch, indicating for her to do the same.
"No, Maria."
The communication line went silent, telling Bruce that Hill had signed away as quickly as she could. Any prolonged chatting could put them at greater risk, for all that the quinjet could boast for being untraceable in stealth mode. Better not have that open too long. He could hear his friend sigh heavily, and deep down, Bruce wished he could do more than just retreat into his own mind and huddle under his blanket. He did not want to break the shell of security he was building around himself. In one afternoon, he'd put both his close friend and himself in a kind of hell that he would have never engaged in, had he been in his right mind. Tony, he could tell, still felt poorly about the whole situation, given that he'd had to call on the emergency armor and beat him down. But, it had been his fault that that came to be. He did not know if he could say anything of value after that. Instead, he only heard the billionaire step up to the cockpit, murmur quietly to the archer seated at the controls. Barton had suggested they all get some rest, as they were still hours out from a predetermined destination.
A shudder went down Bruce's spine. No rest, no sleep…nightmares were still there, waiting for him. The footsteps came back, Stark sliding into view as he hesitantly reached towards him. Then, as though thinking better of it (and making Bruce feel even worse for making him do so) he withdrew, his jaw working as he thought. The scientist ducked his head away, choosing to give him an out, missing the flash of pain in his friend's eyes.
"You gonna sleep, Rogers?" Tony asked, approaching the captain with a great measure of caution. Physically, besides the bruises, Cap seemed no worse for the wear. But from the doctor's angle, down on the floor, he could see into the other man's blue eyes. Watching him from beneath his eyelashes, he could see that the other fellow held back from showing on his face, reflected in his irises. What the Maximoff girl had forced him to see, he didn't know, but the deep discontent and anguish could not be hidden so easily. Hesitantly, the blond man lifted his chin, exhaling softly and letting his head fall back against the hull of the jet.
"Hmm," was the response Stark got from him—verbally, at least. After a second or two, he rose from his chair, fingers twitching and tapping against his belt as he moved off. Tony darted his gaze at Banner, holding the look for a moment. He seemed to be exhaustion personified, though Bruce reckoned he was giving his friend a run for his money. Saying nothing, Stark followed Steve, flicking switches to unfold the hard bunks that were secreted in the walls. Wordlessly, Thor stumbled in that direction as well, no doubt understanding the need to restore himself for the next bout. Banner, however, could not be troubled to get off the floor. He would not sleep, not yet.
Blinking heavily, he felt his eyelids droop against his wishes. Head lolling to the right, he barely noticed the shift in air beside him, the new presence lowering itself beside him on the floor. The gentle pressure of a hand on his shoulder made him jump slightly, but he held a tight rein on his spiking emotions. A teammate, he reminded himself, not an enemy. But which one?
"Bruce?" It was her voice, wooden and diminutive, but it was her voice nonetheless. Glancing over, wary brown met weary blue, Natasha barely managing to lift a corner of her mouth in a friendly expression. The brokenness in her pale gaze could not be ignored, the old wounds buried within freshly opened. A lump in his throat formed, his swallowing distracting him from the anger that threatened to climb back up when he saw it. Rather, he concentrated on her touch, light though it was, and on her face as a whole. Whatever horrors she'd experienced, she was trying to reach out to him still. Bruce's gut twisted at her attempt at kindness, even in the darkness. He didn't deserve it. Unable to return the gesture, he simply stared at her for a long moment, his tongue unwilling to cooperate (but perfectly willing to linger over the new gap between his molars; the soreness from the punch Tony dealt him still had receded). As much as he longed to do something, even something as miniscule as tucking her fiery hair behind her ear, he couldn't. There was nothing he could say that would make any of the situation right, and there was nothing he could do to change things that had happened.
And neither could she. So he merely looked away, his tired gaze fastening on the floor while she sat beside him, her hand fluttering away and replacing it with her shoulder. Resting side by side, silence permeated the cabin once again.
A/N: Another long chapter for you guys. Laying it on thickly with a trowel, aren't I? You know, the events of the majority of Age of Ultron happen over the course of a week. That has to have been one emotionally turbulent week. And Holly is soldiering on, but trust me, she's kinda holding it together by a thread at this point. Sometimes life is great...and then other times, you get hit with the shitstick, pardon my language. And we got a hint at what I perceive to be Bruce's deepest fear. I may go into more depth later on...at a certain farmhouse...
I don't own anything from the MCU, Harry Potter an the Prisoner of Azkaban, or the much-used quote from The Fairly OddParents. Any other accidental pop culture references, I don't own those, either.
Thanks again to everyone for the well wishes, by the way! I did have a happy birthday...26 is feeling pretty good so far.
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!