CHAPTER 5

OF OCEANS AND WHALES

"A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash,

the moment it is broken.

Fortunately, something else happens to you and me.

Pick up your pieces.

Then, help me gather mine."

- Vera Nazarian.

Slowly, they entered a strange pattern of complicit company. It was strange for Tony to have someone else in the same room, and to stay voluntary in the company of someone that was not Happy or Rhodney.

He couldn't even believe the young girl had decided, all on her own, to cook for him. After days and days of ignoring him, and sending quite scary eyes in his direction the few times he went up the kitchen, surprisingly not making his hair combust by sheer determination, now it almost looked like a battled within herself was lost and she had decided to grace him her presence.

Tony kind of didn't mind. She was quiet, never spoke. He didn't even know how her voice sounded like, but it didn't bother him. It was welcoming to have a person in front of him and feel like he didn't need to fill the void with words. It was a welcoming sensation he rarely felt before.

He felt like he didn't need to pretend to be something he was not in front of the people he knew, just so they could feel better for themselves in seeing their words had "helped" him see reason. As if they knew anything about him or if they could put themselves in his shoes.

She didn't ask him anything. Didn't ask him to be better, didn't ask to be less damaged, to sleep more, eat more or whatever. Her company was welcomed like a fresh of air after a big storm, he could be as shitty as he could be, as self-destructive as he wanted, and no more than a bored glance on his dishevelled state was what he received.

He didn't even know why, maybe he had gone insane, but after just three days passed in her company, he could feel already better. He even managed to sleep soundless for three hours after being up for maybe thirty or something more, didn't really counted.

But there were no nightmare, no panic attacks, absolutely nothing. Just peaceful sleep.

Maybe she had slipped something on the food to make him more relaxed. He kind of wanted to ask her if she had really somehow spiked it, or how could she be so good at cooking.

But if she did indeed do something, maybe for the first time in his entire life, he didn't want to know. His attention on his project was back, he really finally was doing some progress, and he really didn't feel like a walking corpse more than usual.

Sure, his eyes were still circled heavy, and his skin was way to pale to be considered healthy, but he felt better. No more dark thought every single minute of his time, maybe just a few here and there.

And sure, he was genually and terribly intrigued. He wanted to know.

He finally read all her file, previously he had kind of skipped it, just reading the part that talked, or better way, tried to talk of her power, which just said that big explosions would occur within her angry presence, they still weren't sure how, or what type of energy she used, and she hadn't been any helpful in explaining either.

Apart from that, there wasn't much, no family mentioned, not how she was exactly found, except that she had saved Fury outside of a building on a remote area of Alaska. Nothing else, nothing more than her behavioural evaluation.

ERIS GUERRA

Female, 25 years old

PTSD, extreme insomnia, prone to self-destructive actions, prone to anger, prone to vindictive actions, prone to act on immoral actions, depression, apathetic, display compulsive behaviour.

To avoid in the presence of the subject, topics of family, of previously life and all sort of mention of past. Avoid all sort of physical contact, if not initiated by the subject, avoid forcing the subject to talk, avoid threats of any kind, avoid staying in the presence of the subject if it express the need of solitude.

Treat subject carefully, unknown capability of danger. Only Nick Fury is given permission of treating with the subject.

And after reading all of it, Tony had felt disgust, not for the girl, but for the way she was portrayed by S.H.I.E.L.D.. They should have known better than that, they should be better now that they had been reformed, being clear of the influence of Hydra.

'Subject' and the word 'it' had made him want to throw angrily something. He felt nauseated even thinking of her like that. Sure she could kill with a glare, but he didn't think she was a bad person, she was just a young woman.

He couldn't even imagine what had made her this way, but he was sure as hell she was a victim of it, not a perpetrator, and treating her like a dangerous object was just wrong. She was a person, with emotions hidden deep, he knew that, just like he liked to hide his pain under a big veil of sarcasm.

She was messed up, even a blind man could see it, but so was he, and he didn't remember him called 'subject' or 'it' during his evaluation, the one that Natasha did.

And if she really was such a monster, he couldn't explain why she had brought him food, why she stayed for hours with him, either with the tablet on her hands or papers, or even just looking at him work in boredom. If really she was so volatile, she would have snapped when he accidentally made a mistake and a little explosion had thrown him back, away from his station into a nearby desk.

Instead she had tensed up, yes ready to defend herself from whatever was coming her way, and then just after a few minutes of heavy silence and tense breath, in which he thought that now he really had to go for the horrible syringe and possible kill her with it before she could, well explode he guessed. She simply went back to the game on the tabled, fingers slightly shaking for the scare, and that was it.

Now, it almost seemed like she had started to, not exactly enjoy, but maybe tolerate his presence. Maybe even solitude had worn her out, maybe just seeing someone else that didn't have the intention of nagging her to death was refreshing.

Tony sure felt that way.

He was so lost into his own word he didn't notice her enter and place a big fuming mug of coffee in front of his face.

Now, just shy of a few days, she had already the liberty of going in and out of the laboratory when she pleased and didn't need to wait for him to say she could enter, he just made sure with Friday she didn't take anything except her belonging with her.

So far, so good.

Tony looked up, into her dark amber eyes, and she was looking at him coolly, but this time he wasn't as easily deceived as before, there was sadness hidden well deep, and loneliness that he knew to well.

Such beautiful eyes she had. They were the colour of the gold, or maybe of the leaves on Autumn, bright like the sun, with a darker brown circle on the outside of the iris. So strange they were, not like the muddy brown he had, so unique and special and almost like otherworldly.

And the more he looked at the peculiar eyes, the more he felt a tug inside of him, almost like a call, distant, never heard in his entire life. Like he was in a middle of a raging ocean with a shaky broken boat, and he heard a muttered whale call, beneath him, deep down on the dark inferno.

Now she looked way worst then him, her pale sickly skin was almost glowing in the fake lights of the holograms, and the circles under her eyes were as deep as his, if not more. Maybe they were playing a game of who would collapse last. Maybe Tony could win, just this time.

So she hadn't sleep as well as him. Well, the three hours he got anyway.

It was only eight in the morning, and usually she wouldn't come before lunch, to bring him food and then staying there till it was time to make some dinner.

"Thanks" he finally managed to say surprised.

Tony took the cup and sipped. It wasn't scalding hot, and it was without sugar, black as he had always liked it, and it was goddammit good. Now he was even more surprised. This was quality coffee here. He had vaguelly heard from Friday that the young woman was giving the kitchen a new life.

He fixed his eyes into her small figure as she slowly went to her position on the wall, just looking in contemplation as she sat on the cold ground and started playing with the tabled, god's only know what, he told Friday to put almost everything on it.

She completely ignored him, clearly not in the mood of being subjected to his interest, so he turned back and tried to resume his work with the nagging feeling of wanting to know more, maybe he could ask Friday to search for something on her, just to satisfy his curiosity.

What a strange little thing indeed.

Eris was not sure what had changed between them after her decision of bringing him the pasta the first time. What she was sure was that she was feeling tired. More then she could remember being in the last months.

Tired of the nightmares and the loneliness. It had hit her pretty hard after she had brought food to Stark, when alone later in the night she had a dreamt of her lost family. It was cruel the way she remembered them, happy, carefree as much as they could in what little they had.

And even if there was no screams in her dream, no pain, she felt them remembering them so happy was a punishment itself. She slept for maybe an hour, and after dreaming that, she refused to lay down again, it hurt too much.

She made her mission to distract herself as much as possible, so in the morning she would search for recipes on the tablet, and would cook the longest ones she could find, thanking Friday for having now ready all the ingredients she could wish.

Stark seemed very relieved every time she brought him cooked fresh meals, and just seeing that relief in his eyes was enough to made her want to help him. She almost kicked herself there when he had asked her to cook more, for nodding at his almost puppy like eyes and giving in so easily.

In the end she had to thank him for the distraction he had involuntary created. Cooking was as soothing as drawing, and at least in the first she was, it seemed good, at least seeing the way he wolfed down always everything.

So maybe she felt a little gratitude to him when she started to help him relax with her power, just a bit, just to sooth while he was working.

She was not ashamed of that part of her, and Eris knew perfectly well why Fury had brought her there, angry at him for being right in her helping the genius, in knowing she wouldn't ignore for much time and give the cold shoulder at him, at his distress.

Stark was going to kill himself. She could see it, in his dead eyes. He wouldn't do it consciously, but one day he would miss something or forget some step during his work, and he would probably kill himself in the process.

He was slowly destroying his body, his life, his brain. He was on the verge of collapse, and he was as stubborn as her to ask help. The little explosion when she was present was enough proof of that.

So Eris started little, just to give him a little room to breath, like when he had give her the tablet, her new way of escaping reality, she give him relaxation, numbing a bit his heavy thoughts during the day.

She didn't want to manipulate him, and she was sure if he found out he would see it that way, she just wanted to give him a little peace, nothing more. She didn't take any thoughts away, she made them just lighter, just a little behind his eyes, a little less present, less strong.

She didn't know how she came to have this time of power, as it was completely different from the other strong one, but she could, and if one of the person on the room could benefit even a little of it, well, at least she could say that for once she wanted to help someone with them, instead of creating chaos and destruction.

Not because Fury wanted it, not even because Stark wanted it, but because for once she was tired of feeling the brutality of them, and just for once she wanted to use them for something good.

Eris hated them, hated what they could do, hated knowing just how little control she had and for all the horrible things they could cause the day she slipped.

So, for once in a lot of time, she wanted to feel a little good, a little better in knowing that not all of her had became a monster, a part of her could still do good, even if little.

She know however that helping him once would inevitably create a connection, and she wasn't really ready for that.

Whatever, she though sighing as she went away from Stark and his stunned chocolate eyes after she placed the big mug of hot coffee in front of him. Friday had told her how he liked it.

Eris would just wait and see if her decision on helping him was going to be something good, or if she would destroy someone else once more. She didn't know if she could take it another time.

Maybe she was cursed. She sure felt like it as Stark continually stared at her until he felt her horrible mood and returned to his work, but she still felt his curiosity picked. At least he didn't ask questions.

He never did. She didn't know how in the seven hell, being a genius and obviously a curios person, he didn't even try to pry in anything. He probably was putting himself in a lot of strain to keep everything civil, and leaving her in peace. She had at least admire his self control.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds.

Eris had the impression Fury was gloating somewhere, wherever he was, like a fucking idiot.