#INY Chapter Thirty Four

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 34 [Begin: Interlude]

You had a flight to Switzerland in four days. And a flight to NYC to close papers on property came five more days after that. In the middle of all that you were still cleaning up the Expo, paying out slots in the fund for the people who got hurt, taking pressers and briefings, linking up with the legal department to get started on casework against Justin Hammer. Shelling out cash and vision to fix the damaged house in Malibu.

You’d thought this is what you wanted. But was it?

And, surprise surprise, right in the middle of contemplating that, leaving a boardroom meeting, you found Natasha Romanoff sitting in your office. She’d been mysteriously absent after the Expo violence, but then again, you supposed that was her job. It wasn’t with you. Made all the more clear when she slid a piece of paper your way on the desk once you sat down.

You didn’t even need to look at it to know. “Resigning?”

“Ms. Rushman finds that Stark Industries has grown a little too hectic for her tastes.” Although she was offering you a smile, you couldn’t find it in yourself to return it.

Was this disappointing to you? A strange feeling. Not sure where it was coming from. “I share her thoughts on that.”

The expression on her face shifted to something sharp but neutral. “I’m ending my cover here without provocation. In case I need to use it for something else later.”

Good ol’ super secret spy talk. “I figured. Does that mean I’ll be getting a call for reference at some point?” Trying your best not to be cold to her. Offering just a little joke.

Something she seemed grateful for. “It could happen. You never know. I expect a glowing recommendation.”

“Make sure not to list Tony, then.” You had no reason to fight with her. Especially if you were going to be… coworkers? Was that even the right word? You had no idea.

She nodded with a light laugh as she stood, a brief meeting it seemed. Must have had other things to get to. “SHIELD has a space not too far from here. We’re just setting up.” And the other shoe dropped. “We’d like you to come in for your preliminaries in the next few days.”

Setting your elbows on the desk, you linked your hands together. “I’m going to be out of the country. But I can work it in the 17th, if you’re okay waiting.” Time enough to enjoy Basel, get home and reset. “If not it’s going to have to be after the 20th.” An even longer wait in that case. You couldn’t start letting them order you around.

You had a life. A very busy one. This Avengers SHIELD nonsense was probably important. But so were your own duties. Dropping everything just to attend to this superhero life was a poor play. You’d only just barely convinced Tony of that.

“The 17th is fine. We’ll do your firsts tests then.” As she spoke you tapped the desk a few times to bring the on-screen open so you could add it to your calendar. “Then we’ll do your first round of physical training on the 18th. And your first round of enhanced training on the 19th.”

See?

See? You knew this was going to happen. All those dates and what came with them fell out of her, well prepared. Eager to start you into your new life as a super soldier. Although you circled the dates on the calendar, you glanced up at her with a brow arched. “What’s the difference between physical and enhanced?”

“Physical will be with me- as long as I’m on premises.” Meaning that could change at any moment. Made sense. “Enhanced will be with someone else with more… experience in that field.” Oh. The thing. Right.

You were unable to hold a sigh in. “How long will this take- the sessions, I mean. I’m not expecting to get buff overnight or anything.” Or at all. You were almost certain that was not the point of this.

But it at least eased you when she smiled again. Genuine. You much preferred that. “We’ll start at three hours a day. We know you’re a busy woman.”

Three hours. Three hours every time you committed to this. In a warehouse or a room- some days getting your ass kicked, no doubt. And others… doing whatever it was you were going to be doing to hone the thing. And you knew that would be exhausting, too. And once it was all over you’d have to slink off to a meeting or an interview or paperwork…

“What time on the 17th?” Was this really your life now? How? How had you been indoctrinated into being a superhero? Wasn’t that absolutely insane?

“For testing we’ll start at 8AM. For physical we’ll start at 10AM. I like to sleep in when I can.” Her joking with you wasn’t exactly landing. It was clear she was trying to lighten the mood. Make it easy. Because it seemed like the two of you were going to be working together- again- …

Ah.

Now you understood it.

 I’d like it if we continued to get along.

 You tried not to dwell on it. Giving her a smile, “Me, too.”

                           ----------------------------------------------------------

 No matter how much money you had at your disposal to clean up the house, people could only work as fast as they could work. While some bits were cleaned up, others were cordoned off. The teams had at least gotten walls and windows fixed so there wasn’t an overbearing amount of outside air just trundling in. While it may have been smart to stay at a hotel, still, Tony had wanted to be in the lab. Which had been just lucky enough to keep from being destroyed. Not that it wasn’t used to it.

So that’s where you went when you got home around 11PM that night, two platters from a restaurant, ordered and picked up on the way, in arm. Keying yourself into the lab, you kept quiet.

Tony had a pair of blue tinted glasses on, thick black frames up top and clear around the bottom, squinting at the holo-board with tons of equations all over it. “No, JARVIS, that’s not gonna work for me.”

“Well if you would put in the proper variables, I may be able to help.”

You tried to hide a smile as you set dinner down on the corner of a nearby work station. Turning, Tony moved a wireframe hologram mock up of his newest Iron Man suit around. “Lift- here. I need more stabilization in the back panels.”

“And where would you suggest we reroute the power from, sir?”

“Unbelievable. If I have to do everything myself, why do I even have you?” Extending four small slices of the suit on the back- what looked kind of like wings, sort of- he then lifted the panel out of the back and began pulling makeshift wiring. It was sort of amazing what he could do with all these lights.

“Like I said, sir, if you’d give me the proper-”

“Proper variables- proper variables- I heard you the first time.” Turning half his body, hip propped out, he reached his hand over to the board to start quickly writing out numbers and letters and signs you’d never even begin to process. Tony was way beyond you with this stuff. Always would be.

He was way beyond everyone.

And watching him work was… kind of hot.

“There. Now- simulate- give me about 30MPH of force.” The suit tilted forward, and you propped yourself up on a stool, opening your container to take a few fries in hand and watch. Still quiet. “Up to 40.” Half crossing his arms, he put his free hand under his chin. “Hands out-” Talking to the suit, which obeyed. “Quick stop.” The motion jerked the suit with a dangerous rattle of the helmet. He breathed out an annoyed sigh. “Change this- get rid of this-” Waving numbers off the board and then scribbling in more. “We working with proper variables yet, JARVIS?”

“Getting closer, sir.”

Turning the suit back around, he opened the chest piece, messing with some of the things in there. “I need you to up the leveling… and give me a read on the source… connect this… which should… stabilize…” Mumbling thoughtfully as he worked. “Mm. Yep. That should do it. No thanks to you. Render that out for me.”

“Render time will take approximately one hour.”

“Enough time for you to eat dinner.” You finally spoke up and delighted when he turned to look at you, surprised for only a moment and then breaking into a smile like he hadn’t seen you in days.

“When’d you get here? -wait, actually, come here.” Holding his hands out with a little inward motion.

Getting down off the stool and wiping your hands on your pants you stepped into his work space, opening your arms, thinking he’d been beckoning you into a hug. But he side stepped you and instead put his hands on your arms to hold them further up. “What are we doing?”

“Hold. Like that.” Keeping your arms out and then moving down to readjust your legs in a wide stance. “Great. JARVIS scan.”

Even though logically you knew it was just lights passing over you, you couldn’t hold back a little shiver as a beam came down over you, then up, then down. And when it was finished you put your hands on your hips. “Tony.” It was clear what he was doing.

Reaching up, he cupped the sides of your face in his palms and that softened you, only a little, at least until he held a finger up on the left side of your face, watching your eyes with a little bite of his lip, trailing his finger across the bridge of your nose and to the right side ending at your temple. “Mmhmn… yeah. Okay. I thought so.” Turning away he scrolled through a few pages on the holo-board and when he arrived at a new set of variables, he wrote in some information.

“Tony.” Calling to him again. Not angry, knowing that he was working on exactly what you two had agreed on, but getting just a little agitated because he was so wrapped up in it he was practically using you like a bust form.

Moving around again, he settled behind you, one arm around your shoulders. He then slipped the blue-tinted glasses he was wearing over the bridge of your nose and a flood of light entered your vision. So sharp you tilted your head away- uselessly- with a close of your eyes. “Give it a second. It’s calibrating.” He held you steady, a comforting presence.

When you opened your eyes again you saw… some prototype of a HUD- or was this what he was working with all the time? As your eyes flicked around the room, a tracker kept watch on your iris, seeing the light circle there as it highlighted everything you stayed focused on for more than a few seconds. It picked out objects with detailed readouts in the upper corners, papers by listing lines of text that were on them- “This is a lot.” You could feel a headache coming on.

“Here-” He took hold of one of left hand, still holding you close with his other arm, sliding your finger down the side of the lens. The brightness and information dimmed. “You’ll be able to tell her low mode later. It’s a base prototype so I don’t have voice commands in yet.”

Shifting back to look at him- the glasses zeroed in on his face, giving a read out of not just him but his vitals. “Her?”

He grinned softly. “I don’t want JARVIS to have to play favorites.”

“A terribly difficult decision, I assure you.” JARVIS’ wry wit sounding off.

Tilting your head carefully again, he redirected your attention. “Can you see everything? Everything you want to see?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to want to see.” You heard him reaching back to grab something on the desk and he threw a wrench at the far side of the room. The glasses picked up on them, tracking the pattern, the trajectory, speed… “This is what you see? When you’re in Iron Man?” It was so much information. How did he do this constantly? “It makes my head hurt a little.”

“Just about. Well- sort of. This is in casual mode.” You immediately knew what that meant. And you didn’t feel like asking him to expand on what was probably attack mode or something similar.

“Fujikawa is going to be pissed.” They’d been asking for his direction on their own prototype of something very similar to this. The Stark HUD 2020. It was his tech, so he could do whatever he wanted with it. But…

“I told you. They were moving too slow for me. Whatever they end up with won’t be as good anyway. Let them keep going. This is for singular personal use.” Yours, he meant. “I looked at their designs.” He waved a hand in front of your face and you watched the tracker hone in. Finally, he let go of you to walk around and stand in front of you again. “This is nanotech. No one’s even close to this.”

Save him.

Your genius Tony Stark.

But that reminded you, and absently you reached up to touch at an injection site that had long since healed. “Nanotech?”

“You’re getting comfortable with it. And it’s lightweight. The glove is nanobots, too.” The one you’d used to… better not think about it. Easy to do when he continued. “This is just a start. You want something that will conceal your identity. I can do that.” Self satisfied. Tilting back just a little, he scrolled through the holo-board contents again to bring up what your suit specs looked like. Barebones. Filled out only a little more by what you knew was JARVIS’ scan of you moments ago.

And at that you really couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on your lips. “I thought Fury said that was a bunch of nonsense.”

“Fury doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Clearly.” It seemed Team Stark would not be told no for anything. While you’d learned this was a dangerous behavior, not being able to rein Tony in… on the other side of it, it was nice. And kind of fun.

“Speaking of. Natasha came to my office and gave me some dates.” On the left side of the glasses, your schedule popped up. Something that drew your attention only briefly before looking back at him again. “We’re going to start between Basel and New York.” Activities highlighted themselves as you called them out. Again only briefly glancing at them.

He crossed his arms, propping his hip against a work table. “I can have this done before then.”

“No. It’s alright. They don’t need to know about this right now.” On top of that you really didn’t want him working to the bone to get whatever this was going to look like finished. “It looks like you’re pretty preoccupied with your own suit, anyway.” Leaning up on tiptoe to pointedly look at the holographic Mark VI behind him.

The HUD on the glasses immediately started working through information piece by piece, calling out important details on the new mock up of the latest Iron Man. You let it, interested although not completely sure what you were looking at.

Giving a detailed read out, all happening within brief flashes of moments. Maybe your brain was registering things even if you weren’t really getting it all. Because you saw where he left off- even if you’d heard him talking about it when you’d come in. “You’re working on a way to stabilize flight without your hands, right?” Finally you slipped the glasses off and handed them back to him.

He slipped them in the front pocket of his shirt, giving you a light smile. “I’m trying not to go the whole big vulnerable wing route. Might as well add a cape at that point.”

Reaching up, you wound your arms around his neck. “You already have lift.” No need for wings to take off. A thoughtful hum as you smiled back up at him. “But a cape. Now there’s an idea.”

“Oh. So you want a cape?” His hands slipped over the curves of your hips, pulling you closer.

“Yes, let’s piss off Fury even more. It needs to be sparkly.” Giggles leaked out of you as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours, all smiles. But he swallowed the noise of them soon after as he took you in a careful kiss.

Lasting too short a time before he pulled back. “I’ll add it to the design specs.”

Tugging him close, you gave him just one more kiss and then eased back. “Come eat dinner, please. It’s probably mostly cold by now.”

He slipped his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked to the front of the lab. “What’d you bring?”

“Burgers.” And fries, of course.

“Have I expressed to you yet how perfect you are?”

Picking up the boxes, you let him lead you further out of the lab and up the steps. “I’m willing to listen to it again.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 58

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

The team meeting/breakfast is scheduled for nine am; out on the roof top patio of Tyler's hotel.  He's the last to arrive, hair still messy from sleep, laces of his boots undone, sunglasses covering his tired eyes.  He'd finally managed to fall asleep shortly before three am, only to wake up every hour on the hour in a panic, body drenched in a cold sweat because of the nightmarish images that his brain just couldn't shake.  He'd been dying for a drink; tempted by the unlocked mini bar in the corner of the room. The irrational side of his mind telling him that he'd be okay with just one or two. That he'd be able to just put the bottle down and walk away when he got even the smallest bit of buzz going on. Only to be talked out of it by the more mature and rational part; that he wouldn't be able to stop, that he'd drink until he was fall down drunk and then all of his progress, even in such a short period of time, would be for nothing. Instead he texted his wife and been brutally honest. That he was having a hard time and so close to slipping. That the situation in Christchurch was way worse than it originally seemed and he was legitimately scared; that he wasn't going to make it home to her and his kids. And she'd called him right away to talk him down. Never scolding or nagging. Just quiet and supportive. Strong.

It was six in the morning when they'd finally hung up. And he'd managed to fall into a somewhat restful sleep;  successfully talked down off the ledge,  both mind and body ready to let him rest. Then the phone had gone off at eight thirty and he'd immediately panicked; thinking that something had happened and he'd be needed to get home as soon as possible. Only to discover that it was the kids. They'd just gotten home and after an excited and joyful reunion with their mother, had wanted to call him.  Excitedly blabbering about all of the fun things they'd done with Ovi and Chloe while they were on 'vacation', all the cool new foods they got to try,  the trips to the zoo.  But they'd been sad too; they'd missed home and everything that came with it. All the toys and their own beds and their backyard and even the chickens and the goats.  Most of all, they'd missed their mom. Her kisses and her hugs and the way she cuts the crust off their sandwiches.  And they'd been hopeful when they'd seen her that it had meant he was home too.  Only to be heartbroken and disappointed when they found out he was still working.

So now he's late. By a mere five minutes. But he sees the way Mark glares at him as he approaches. There's no love lost between them. And Tyler seriously considers what Yaz had said the day before; about waiting until the job was over and then just dragging Mark out into the street and laying the beating of a lifetime on him.  

“All good?” Yaz asks, as Tyler takes a seat beside him, then slides a cup of steaming black coffee towards him.

“All good.”

“Things are okay at home? With...well you know...”

He nods. ���Things are fine with that. She's fine. Kids finally got back. They called wanting to talk to me, so...”

Across the table, Mark gives a derisive snort, shaking his head as he pretends to be immersed in his menu.

“What the fuck now?” Tyler asks. “You have an issue with me talking to my kids?”

“We don't have time for you to be dealing your personal shit, Rake.”

“They're his kids,” Yaz forcefully reminds Mark. “Who he isn't seen in almost a month. He's not supposed to talk to his kids now? Get out of here with that shit. They wanted to talk to their dad. What is wrong with you?”

“You either leave your shit back home or you don't show up,” Mark reasons.

“They're kids,” Nathan pipes up.  “Little kids. They're not allowed to talk to their father?”

“We don't have time to be dealing with wives and girlfriends and kids and whatever the hell else.  Are we not here to work? How are we supposed to get any shit done when some of you are too busy dealing with personal crap? Stow that shit and get on with business.”

“Sounds like someone is just bitter they don't have a personal life to worry about,” Yaz remarks, as he goes back to his own menu.  “Because my sister was smart enough to move on to someone else.”

“There was never anything between me and your sister,” Mark informs him. “It was just...a thing...”

Tyler smirks.  “A thing, huh? So that's what the kids are calling phone sex these days.  Don't be mad, Mark. That some of us are actually having real sex while you're resorting to handling things on your own. We won't hold it against you. Just don't expect me to shake your hand though. I don't want to be touching something that's been attached to your dick.”

Yaz smirks and coughs noisily beside him.

“And I'll talk to my kids whenever the fuck I feel like it,” Tyler adds. “When I talk to my kids or my wife has nothing to do with you. Or is that what the real issue is? The fact that she's my wife and not yours. You fucked that up, buddy. That was over long before I came around. I'm just the one that cleaned up your goddamn mess.”

“Hey, if you like someone else's sloppy seconds, that's your business,” Mark retorts. “You two are made for each other. You're both fucking train wrecks.”

“Just admit you're pissed off that your ex moved on to bigger and better,” Yaz says. “That you screwed things up and now you've got to live with that and he gets to live with her. Not his fault you're a cheating, wife abusing bastard.”

“Cheating, narcissistic, wife abusing bastard,” Tyler corrects. “You left out narcissistic.  Just let it go, Mark. I'm not in the mood for your shit. I'm never in the mood for your shit. But especially not now. I haven't seen my kids in almost a month, my wife isn't doing well and just got out of the hospital, and I'm here putting up with your crap. So how about you just sit there and shut the fuck up.”

Mark frowns. “She was in the hospital? Why?”

“Oh now he's worried about her,”  Yaz scoffs. “Not when he was beating the shit out of her. But now. Now that she's with a guy that doesn't do that kind of shit.  Why was she in the hospital? How about it's none of your goddamn business.”

“She hasn't been feeling well and thought maybe there was a problems with the baby,” Tyler casually explains, sipping his coffee.

Mark's frown deepens. “Baby? What baby?”

“The one that I put inside of her almost four months ago. That baby.”

“Say what you want about the man, but he's got seriously talented sperm,” Yaz digs a playful elbow into his friend's ribs. “And lots to spare, apparently.”

Congratulations go up around the table; followed by his personal cell phone being passed around in order to proudly show off the ultrasound photos that his wife had sent to him. It isn't his first rodeo; he's been this round four times now. But each time feels just as amazing as the last; seeing the pictures, watching her grow bigger with their child, his child, thinking about how incredible it is that despite all of their issues, they managed to create another human being together.  And it's bittersweet in a way. That this will be the last one.  The last chance that he has to go through the experience with her yet he here is, thousands of miles away.

A waitress comes to take their orders and talk eventually turns to the job at hand. Most specifically, his talk with Heather McMann the day before.

“Think she's trust worthy?” Yaz inquires. “Did she seem on the up and up?”

“Seemed that way,” Tyler replies. “But then so did her husband and look at how that ended up.”

“Definitely not your brightest moment,” Mark snidely comments.

Tyler chooses to ignore it.  “Unless she's a really good actress, there is no way she was lying. It was too real; the emotion on her face, in her voice.”

He realizes how much he sounds like Esme; when she's going on about how there's times where he communicates more effectively with his facial expressions and his body language than with actual words. She always knows what he's feeling...what he's thinking...long before he ever verbally expresses them.   That is how it had been with Heather McMann.  It wasn't what he'd heard. It was what he'd seen. And everything told him that it was very, very real.

“And the kids are in there?” Mark asks. “In that shop?”

“In the basement. She says it's like an underground bunker down there. Just like the one back home. It would look like this...” he snatches the pen that Yaz has tucked in the breast pocket of his short sleeved button down, and then grabs the unused napkin underneath his own cutlery. “One long hallway...” he speaks as he hastily draws the layout. “...there's a room immediately to the left of the stairs. Small. Five by six, if that. Another room about four feet down the hall, to the right. Slightly bigger. I'm saying about seven by eight, maybe. Five more rooms after that. Directly across from one another. The first three are the same size; eight by nine. Last two are bigger. The one where Esme found the chair was eleven by twelve. The one where I found Erin Ferguson was large. Thirteen by fifteen. There's a door, at the end of the hall; just leads to a small cold storage area. No other entrance or exit. Just the main one. Hallway is three hundred and fifty feet. Give or take a couple of inches.”

“And you were able to know all of this...all these measurements...even though it was dark down there?” Mark smirks. “How?”

“Because I have two fucking feet and I know how to count without having to use my fingers. That's how. I walked that entire place. We walked it. I know exactly how many feet there were.”

Just like he'd known exactly how many it took to get as far as he did on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Because he'd counted down every single one; each step taking him not only closer to freedom and safety, but to her. A number that...as soon as he'd been healthy enough...he'd had tattooed on the inside of his right bicep. Along with each of the kids' first and middle initials and their dates of birth.

“And I never once mentioned that it was dark down there,” he adds. “How did you know that?”

“So maybe it wasn't completely dark,” Mark corrects himself. “Just the rooms. The hallway had light.”

Tyler scowls. “But I never mentioned that. To any of you. This is the first time I've talked about what it was like down there since it happened. How'd you know that the only light was in the hallway?”

“I guess I just assumed,” Mark shrugs. “I mean, there's only so many options when you're underground, right?”

“You absolute motherfucker,” Tyler's eyes darken, his voice becoming menacing as the reality sinks in.  “It was you. You're the one that told McMann we were going there. When Esme asked you to distract him so we could go there and poke around.”

Mark gives a dry laugh. “Okay, that's really reaching, Rake. Your brain really is messed up if you can jump to shitty ass conclusions like that so fast.”

“She trusted you. I trusted you. You told him as soon as you met him up with him, didn't you. That's how he was able to get things together so quickly. He knew exactly how long it would take us to get there. It gave him enough time to get his people there and have someone fuck up the comms. Or was that you, too? FBI would know how to do shit like that, right?”

“You're crazy,” Mark declares. “You've officially gone right off the deep end. Snapped that last shred of sanity you've been hanging onto. I told Esme this would happen you know.  That one day you'd just lose it all together. I'm glad it didn't happen when you were at home. You'd probably be one of those guy's that would go completely psycho and kill his entire family...”

“Listen you little fuck...”  there's a loud clatter of silverware and china as he leans across the table, a fist snatching Mark by the front of his golf shirt.  Around them, conversations and laughter all come to a stand still as every eye on the place zeros in on the altercation taking place before them.  “...for the last time, leave my family out of this. Don't talk about them, don't even think about them.”

“Okay...okay...” Yaz once again resorts to playing peacemaker. “...I get you want to kill him, but we're in a public place and the last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves. So please calm the fuck down.”

Tyler releases his grip on Mark's shirt, but roughly shoves him back into his chair. “I trusted you. I took her word for it that you wouldn't totally fuck us and you did. You knew she was going with me. You knew she'd be there. And you told him. Do you know what could have happened to her? If I hadn't have told her to leave? Do you have any idea the sick shit they would have done to her? Or didn't that matter to you. As long as you got rid of me, you didn't give a shit what happened to her.”

“Is this true?” Yaz asks. “What he's saying? Were you the one that told McMann about Tyler and Esme going there?”

“I never said a goddamn word. He's crazy. Certifiably crazy. We all know his issues. How fucked up in the head he is. Doesn't this prove that?”

“I'm fucked up in the head?” Tyler retorts. “You're calling me fucked up in the head yet you're the one that knew what would happen to her if they got a hold of her? You hate me that much that you'd let that happen? You'd let them do that her? To my wife?”

“Is it true?” Yaz presses. “Just tell us that. Were you the one who told McMann that they'd be at the house? Yes or no.”

Mark sighs heavily. “Yes.”

“Jesus...fuck...” Yaz mutters, as Nathan throws his hands up in surrender of the whole screwed up situation and walks away from the table. “...you can't be serious. Why the hell?”

“Money,” Mark simply replies. “He offered me a lot of money.”

“Holy shit,” Zak shakes his head in disbelief and gets up from the table as well. “This is fucked. You're fucked, Mark. We're supposed to be a fucking team! You brought us here to help and you're going around doing shit like this? For money?”

“He needed help,” Mark says. “He'd already screwed up once when it came to killing you. He thought for the second time would work.”

“And it didn't matter that she was with me,” Tyler states. “It didn't matter what they do to her. None of that mattered to you.”

Mark shrugs. “Collateral damage.”

“You didn't care if my kids were left without their father or their mother?”

“Whatever had to be done to take you out. If that meant she went too...” he shrugs once more.

Sighing heavily, Tyler shakes his head and leans back in his chair, elbow on the arm rest; palm pressed against his forehead as he closes his eyes.

“Guess things were really fucked once we grabbed McMann, huh?” Yaz inquires. “Guess that's why you were hell bent on getting Tyler to change his mind about wanting to torture his ass. You didn't want anything to happen to your boss. In case there was a chance to make more money.”

“Are you kidding?” Mark laughs. “I was glad when we got rid of him. Means I didn't have to worry about him anymore.”

“You mean you didn't have to worry about him ratting you out,” Yaz concludes. “You realize that we're going to have to cut you loose, right? That this goes way beyond fucking things up. You were going to kill one of your own teammates. Or have someone else kill them. Like what the hell man? For what? Money? Or did this go beyond that? Was this a more personal thing? All because you didn't like the fact that your ex moved on?”

“I gotta get out of here,” Tyler pushes his chair away from the table, taking money from his wallet and tossing it down.

The anxiety is too far out of control; chest tightening, sweat beginning to gather at the small of his back and the nape of his back,  the faint quell of nausea as bile sits in his throat. And he's vaguely aware of the sarcastic, cutting comment Mark makes at expense as he leaves; strides long and purposeful as they take him across  the busy roof top patio and through the restaurant. Needing to get the hell away...away from the noise...away from the bright lights...away from all the people.  Jamming his finger repeatedly against the down button for the elevator; muttering curses and wiping sweat from his forehead with his forearm and trying to force himself to breathe.

“You okay?” Yaz is suddenly at his side, a concerned look on his face. “What's up? Talk to me?”

“I can't...it's like I can't fucking breathe....”

“Just take it easy.  That was a lot to fucking hear.  You got meds on you or....?”

“I don't need meds. I just need to get out of here. Where there's less noise and less people and...”

Yaz frowns as he glances around the empty hallway. “There's no one even out there. You want me to go with you? You don't look so good.”

He shakes his head. “I'll be fine. I just need to go...I don't know where I need to go...I just know I can't be here...”

“You're not going to do anything stupid are you? I mean, you've got all those guns in your room and...”

“I'm not going to fucking kill myself. I might kill him,” he nods in the direction of the restaurant. “But I'm not going to kill myself.”

“You should call home,” Yaz suggests. “Talk to Esme. She'll know how to talk you down.”

“I don't need to call home. I don't want her fucking worrying about this shit. She's got four kids to take care of and a baby to worry about...”

“And you're the father of those kids and that baby and she deserves to know when you're feeling like this.  Call home. Or I'll do it for you.”

“Stay out of it, Yaz. I know you're trying to help. But stay out of it. I'm trying to keep shit from falling apart. And the more I put on her, the more I'm going to push her away and the more it is going to fall apart.”

“That's bullshit and you know it. Go back to your room, call home, talk to your wife.”

The elevator finally arrives; allowing several people off before stepping into the empty cab.

“Call her!” Yaz orders.

“Stay out of it,” he shoots back, and slams his finger against the close door button.

****

By the time he returns to his room, the photos from Heather McMann have arrived; tucked in a brown paper envelope and stuck between the door and the frame. He'd expected an email or images sent through a text message, so he's surprised -albeit pleasantly- to find that she'd through such efforts to make sure he got exactly what he needed. Once inside he takes half a dozen anti anxiety pills and two Prozac instead of the normal one. And he feels no guilt or shame when he swallows them down with half a bottle of whisky from the bar, leaving the rest on the nightstand as he dumps the contents of the envelope onto the bed. Some of the photos have sticky notes on the back of the them; pointing out small details that he may not notice at first but she felt he needed to know about.  And while the photographs are promising and should be leaving him with more answers than questions, they just aren't enough. They don't put his frantic mind to rest; the conversation with Mark replaying in his mind, the feelings of rage and betrayal, the sense of doom that hangs over him like an ominous dark cloud.

He considers just packing it up and going home. Handing everything off to Yaz and telling him that he's done. Get someone else. That he's not feeling confident enough to get the job done. That his brain is too fucked up to fully focus on what needs to be done. That would be more dangerous than anything else; if he couldn't get his head on straight and commit himself one hundred percent, both he and those kids would die. There was no question about.  It would be best for everyone if he just left; if he accepted defeat just this once and admitted that he wasn't in any shape to carry this job out.

His private cell phone vibrates against his leg and he slips it from the side pocket of his cargos. At first he considers not answering; he's almost done the bottle of the booze and he's considering opening another and once he starts talking to her, he'll confess all his shortcomings and admit to all his bullshit and then it will cause a big old thing between them. She'll be pissed off. Disappointed. Not meaning to call him a failure but making him feel like one nonetheless.  He reminds himself that that's just bullshit; his brain trying to convince him that everyone...even her...is out to get him. She's never...even in the midst of his biggest fuck ups...made him feel like he was a complete and utter disaster.

So he answers it; catching it on the last ring before it goes to voice mail.

“Everything okay?” he asks in way of greeting. “You and the kids okay?”

“What the hell is going on, Tyler?” her response is straight to the point. Yet it's not anger in her voice. It's hurt. Confusion.  “Yaz just called. What is going on over there?”

“What did he tell you?”

“Something about Mark being involved with McMann and being the one that told McMann that we'd be at the house that day. That McMann offered him money for information? What the fuck, Tyler?”

“Okay, I'm going to need you to calm down. Less stress, remember? So just take it easy...”

“How the hell am I supposed to take it easy? You're thousands of miles away, getting ready to walk into some pretty dangerous shit with no proper help and no proper back up and...”

“Esme,” his tone is firm. “Calm down. We shouldn't even be talking about this. The kids...”

“The kids are outside with Ovi and Kyle. They can't hear a thing I'm saying. You need to start talking. You need to tell me what the fuck is happening before I get on the next plane to New Zealand. Because you damn well know I'll do it and I know it's the last thing you want. So you either start telling me what the hell is happening or I swear to God. Tyler, I will show up on your doorstep and there won't be a goddamn thing you can do stop me.”

“Are you going to calm down?” he inquires. “Because I'm not saying shit until you do. So you either calm down or you hang up and call me back when you have your shit together.”

“Don't fucking talk to me like that. I'm not one of your soldiers from your military days that you can boss around. I'm your wife. So don't be a condescending asshole and...”

“Esme!” he snaps. “Calm down or I'll hang up and I won't answer when you call back, understand me?”

“Don't..”

“Understand me?” he presses, and it's then that she takes a long, deep inhale, followed by a shaky, uneven exhale. “Are you good? Are you done flipping your shit on me? I need you stay calm. And that baby needs you stay calm. Do you want something happening? Because I don't”

“Of course I don't. But I also don't want anything happening to you. And if what Yaz said is true...”

“McMann gave Mark money...or at least offered him money...to tell him that we were going to be at the house.”

“But why? For what purpose? To kill you? So McMann wouldn't have to get his own hands dirty?”

“Apparently. And he told him even though Mark knew you'd be with me. Meaning if they'd gotten a hold of you...”

“And that's what really set you off. Yaz said you had a panic attack.”

“He should have kept his mouth shut.”

“No. He shouldn't have. You should stop assuming that I'm some weak and fragile little girl that can't handle these things. I've been handling them for five and a half years, Tyler. I spent months sleeping in a chair in a hospital, dealing with a lot worse than this. Having people constantly telling me that you weren't going to survive or that if you did you'd be brain damaged and I'd spend the rest of my life taking care of you. You think this is bad? This isn't half as bad as the things I heard and the things I was prepared to do. You always go on and on about how strong I am. Well start treating me like I am!”

He's surprised by the forcefulness in her voice.  

“You get so caught up thinking you constantly need to protect me. And I understand why you're like that. I do. We've been through a lot of together. We've been through some terribly shitty and scary things. But you don't need to be this way. It's frustrating and it's annoying and it's suffocating. And I don't know why you can't see that. You need to stop. More importantly, I need you to stop.  Stop protecting me and start trusting me that I can handle things.”

'You're right,” he reluctantly admits. “I know how much you hate it. The whole overprotective thing. And I don't mean to be that way. But I also can't help it. I can't stop wanting to keep you safe.”

“I'm not saying you need to stop. I'm saying you need to tone it down a bit. I'm not one of the people you get hired to get out of shitty situations.  Dhaka was five and a half years ago. You did what you needed to do. I survived. Now you need to start acting like we're not still stuck back there and you're still trying to find a way to get me out of there. You always tell me I need to let it go. Maybe there's parts of it you still need to let go too.”

He sighs heavily, then reaches for the bottle of whisky and drains it.

“What's going to happen now?” she asks. “With Mark??”

“I don't know. Nik can take care of that. She brought him into this, she can take him out of it.”

“I never should have asked him for help. If I'd never asked him...”

“Don't do that. This isn't your fault. You didn't know he was going to turn around and do something like this.”

“Still, if I hadn't have asked him...”

“Esme...stop. This isn't on you. You didn't know he was going to turn out like this. Let Nik take care of it. There's nothing either of us can do about him.”

“You could always kick the shit out of him.”

“I'm tempted. Believe me. Beyond tempted, even.”

“But you're okay, right? Because that's all that matters to me. That you've calmed down and you're okay.”

“Yeah,” he glances over at the empty whisky bottle. “I'm okay.”

“Is there any good news? Are you any closer to getting those kids and getting the fuck home? Because we kind of miss you here.”

“I miss you guys too. And I'd come home right now if I could. And maybe I should. Maybe I should just say 'fuck this' and tell Nik to find someone else. Because I'm so sick of this shit. I'm tired and I'm sore and I just want to see you and the kids. I've had enough. I can't do this anymore. This life. I just can't.”

“Tyler....”

“I can't...” he insists, and his voice finally cracks under the weight of the emotion that he's been carrying around. Is it weeks? Months? Years even? He doesn't know for sure. But the burden has been huge and heavy, and despite his best attempts, he just can't carry it any longer.  “...I can't do this...mentally...I just can't...I need to come home.  I'm no good to those kids if I stay. I can't get them out of there. Not when I'm like this.”

“Tyler...”

“It'll just make things worse,” he continues, letting both the words and the tears flow. “I can't get past it. What's going on in my head. There's so much going on and it won't leave me alone. It never leaves me alone. It's never quiet up there anymore and I can't take it.  I need it to be quiet. I need it to leave me alone and it won't if I stay here. It'll never leave me alone. And I can't live like this any longer. I just can't.”

“Come home,” she says. Simple. Straight to the point. “You need to come home.”

He nods in agreement, using the back of his hand to clear the tears off his face.  

“You've done enough. For other people. Now you need to come home and get better.”

“I can't do it by myself,” he admits.  “I know I can't.”

“You don't have to. You know that. You're not alone in this.  I'll help you.  And I wish I was there right now. I'd do anything to be there with you. You know that, right?”

“I do. I do know that.”

“Just come home, Tyler,” she says. “It's time to come home.”

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 134

It was severely embarrassing not being able to climb the stairs without running out of breath- but, you decided to give yourself a pass, considering you were pretty sure your windpipe was still bruised. Added to the fact that you were also pretty sure an anxiety attack was swelling on the horizon, with how tight your chest felt. So. Maybe now was the time to go a little bit easier on yourself. Perhaps it would help with the healing process, if that was even working anymore. 

When the two of you got upstairs, sunlight greeted you. Morning had come. Tony had not slept. And he would continue to not do so, you realized, as he mumbled something about getting to work on the elevator. And as he stepped into the suit so he could wedge Steve’s shield out of the door, you similarly decided to give yourself something to focus on. Though when you went to get the broom to start sweeping up broken glass, he told you, “You don’t have to do that. I’ll get to it.” 

And the easy response to that was, “I have to do something.” So he left you alone after that. Knowing the feeling all too well. So you cleaned up the living room. Cleaned up what you could of the window he’d busted through and made calls for a replacement. Then you went to the kitchen and put on another pot of coffee. It was going to be a long day. 

Just as it entered into its finishing gurgles, you felt him coming up behind you. So overly aware of everything right now and incredibly tense, but at least when he put his hand on your shoulder you didn’t startle. From your leaned in position on the counter you turned to look up at him. “I was making coffee for you…” Feeling tired, too, but probably nowhere near as close as he was. “You should probably eat something, too.” Taking care of him was easy. It was easy to do and focus on. Unlike everything else. 

Maybe he thought the same, as his arms came around you, drawing you in, holding you tight. “So should you. You wanna order something?” 

As you buried your face against his chest, shaking your head, already your mind was going a million miles a minute. Kicked up into high speed at the mere prospect of a certain someone. “We can’t- what if he’s… what if he takes the person coming to deliver it- and messes with the food or-” 

He stopped both your hiding and your panic-ridden babbling, moving his hands to your arms to ease you away from him just so he could get a look at you. “Alright. Relax. Take a breath. That’s a lot of paranoia.” 

“How can we afford to not be paranoid right now?” For sure he was right. Thinking about Kilgrave lurking around every corner waiting to strike… you couldn’t live life like that. Thinking he was waiting for the right moment to poison your breakfast… maybe that was a little ridiculous. But… but… 

“If we let him control every move we make, he’s already won. And he didn’t need to say anything to do it.”

You stood there looking at him for a long time. Thinking about this. Tony was usually right about most things. If he thought you couldn’t live life right now rethinking every move you made… he was probably right. However… that brought up what had been talked about only hours ago. “I don’t know if it’s what he wants, but… we need the team to leave.” Jessica understood now. Finally. And it had been your first move. To not get them involved with him. 

Tony’s hands rubbed up and down your arms a few times over as his lips pressed together and then finally he turned away, reaching up into one of the cabinets to start making two cups of coffee. “After yesterday? I agree with you. Luckily, Banner and I have a few more pings on the scanner. But we have to get through the next town hall debate. Which will be full arguing about what’s more pressing.” 

You crossed your arms, turning your back to lean against the counter again. “Kilgrave is one man in one city. Hydra has the scepter and various Chitauri parts and there’s no telling what they’ve been doing with tme. Or what they plan on doing with them. That’s far more important.” 

The sound of coffee pouring into a deep mug was almost soothing, for one reason or another. “On the larger scale, I agree with you. But. Well, you did mention my bias not too long ago…” Smiling weakly to himself. 

Meaning Hydra was after the world. That was important. But Kilgrave was after you. So to Tony… that was more important. Which was going to make this a lot harder. “You should go with them.” 

“Out of the question.” Said mere seconds after you’d spoken. He put the coffee pot back on the burner a little bit hard. 

“Tony- if he gets to you-” Painful to think about. 

“He won’t.” 

“You don’t know that.” Turning again to look at him. And he was very pointedly fixing the cups of coffee for the both of you. To avoid your stare. “Think about it this way- how many times have I-... what’s the quickest way idiots devise to get to you? It’s always me.” Vanko. Loki had tried. Killian wanted you to suffer merely to torment him at first. “So if he starts wondering what the quickest way to get me to-” 

“I won’t get compromised.” He was struggling now. Trying valiantly not to raise his voice. But he was getting flustered and upset. 

“And if you do?” 

He turned to meet you finally. “Then you don’t budge. Not even for me.” 

“Tony.” Not a tone of admonishment, instead hard spoken because… how could he even say something like that? “You know that’s not how that would go.” 

The two of you looked at each other for a long time, but finally he seemed to crack a little, his shoulders sliding down as he let go of a breath. “It was worth a shot.” Reaching out, his hands palmed over your hips, bringing you closer. You acquiesced easily, nowhere else you’d rather be than close and in his arms. “...can we talk about the elephant in the room?” 

It may have been unfortunate you didn’t know what he was getting at. “Which one? There’s so many I’m starting to suffocate.” Laying your head on his chest as you asked. 

“I’ve been thinking. About what Jones said. About what happened with Steve.” He was murmuring now, in that thoughtful way of his. Like the gears were still turning in his brain working to get some sort of understanding ahead of his speech. “If you can break whatever this is, whatever he’s doing… can’t you do that on yourself?” 

Maybe it was a true testament to just how much you loved him. Just how much you trusted him. Because you didn’t immediately think he was asking about your time prior with Kilgrave. Because if you could do that, how come you didn’t escape earlier? Instead… instead he was focusing on the now. What could you do if it happened again? Could you break free? Could you get out? 

But… “I don’t know- it’s not… it’s hard to explain. When I look at people like that- when I see them…” Trying to recall what exactly that space looked like. What it felt like to be there- and how to put that into words. “I don’t see myself, too.” In fact, you couldn’t recall a single time that you had. You didn’t see you. Just everyone else. Even when you put your hands on people… it was still just like looking only at them. “It’s only just… someone else. And to break that control, it literally is like smashing it to pieces. But I see it on them. So I can break it. I… I guess I’ve never thought about it before. But I just don’t see myself.” 

Huh. Was it strange? That you’d never thought about that until just this moment? 

He was trying to contend with this information, but like always with the thing, it was a little out of his wheelhouse. No matter how hard he tried to comprehend it. You weren’t machinery and math. So it was understandable why it was so vexing… for him to not be able to get all aspects of this. Honestly, you’d love for that to be the case. For him to just figure it all out for you. But… this was all on you. 

Even so, his head dropped a little yet his eyebrows lifted and he waved his hand halfheartedly. “Okay. So what that sounds like to me is… I have your back, and you’ll have mine.” 

“Always.” Though you were the one speaking, it was like he’d pulled the word right out of you. Easy to just agree because the two of you were a team. Always. “But…” 

“No but. Don’t do but.” His arms moved to lay just a little over your shoulders, hands hooking up to thread his fingers through your hair, holding the back of your head in his strong hands. 

Reaching up, you soothed your hands over his wrists, looking at him. “If it were someone after you, and it was me-”

“Yeah. So what. I’d put you as far away as possible until I dealt with it. Is that what you wanna hear?” One brow lifting in a wry arch, lips twisting in a half pout. “Fine. But. We already agreed I’m a hypocrite. So it’s a done deal. I’m not leaving you. Glad we could come to terms on this.” His fingers massaged a slow rhythm at the base of your skull. 

Something that soothed the ache and chased away the migraine almost immediately. Or maybe that was just him. Your smile was bittersweet. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“Terribly aware. One of my best and worst character flaws, to be sure.” Grinning weakly then. As much as he was able to muster. 

“A flaw is a flaw. There’s no best.” 

“Agree to disagree.” 

“I thought we already did that.” 

“Seems like we’re very good at it.” 

The two of you were doing what you did best. Hiding behind quick quips to cover for your cowardice and fear. And possibly not having the energy to deal with what you were facing anymore. Maybe sometimes it was easier to fall into moments like this. Pretend everything was normal. That word you wished for more often than not these days. Yet it never once seemed closer. In fact… more often, further away. Every time you thought about it. 

You laid your head against his chest again and his arms came around you loosely. There was a slight rumble of thought against your ear, until finally, “You know… if you’d like to discuss the meaning of hypocrisy, by the way- aren’t you the one who’s always saying we’re a team?” 

“Tony…” A small whine. 

“I’m just saying. You’re barking up this whole if it were me tree, but I think we both know every time I’ve tried to fly solo even in the face of danger you never leave my side. And- might I add-” “Tonyyy…” Whining all the more. Because very suddenly you realized he might be right. You might have been as big of a hypocrite as he was. 

“-you always make a huge fuss about it. So. I think turnabout is fair play-” Your wordless noise of deeper irritation cut him off this time, especially when it led you into a coughing fit. Maybe it wasn’t a good time to be fooling around after nearly being choked to death. Who would have guessed. 

He eased away from you to let you get through it, hand sliding in careful strokes up and down the length of your back. It pretty much drained whatever energy you had left, which was a shame. You probably could have squared up to him for at least another hour before that. “Tony…” Looking up at him again. 

He frowned. “Alright, I’ll cut it out. But I’m also not leaving. And that’s final.” Apparently taking his stand right here. 

“If everyone leaves but you, that only makes you an even bigger target. Be smart about this. Please.” You weren’t sure how much in you you had left for begging. But if you had to resort to it to get him to listen… so be it. 

His eyes narrowed just a little, head turning away. Then, the thinking began. “The team has to leave. And he has to know they’re leaving.” 

“You are part of that team.” Just reminding him. In case he conveniently forgot. 

It took him a few moments, but finally his gaze returned to yours, lips quirking just a little. “Alright. I can work with this.” 

                                                   --- 

Repair people came to replace the window just around the time you were making calls to people who would make other calls to other people. A long list of whispers and murmurs. Somebody told somebody told somebody type deal… well, all these somebodies were currently talking to each other about how information got leaked that the Avengers were about to leave the Tower to go off on a mission. This was dangerous in other ways, but… the press needed to feel like they’d figured out something on their own. And needed to be given ample time to set up in opposite buildings so they could get all the best snapshots.

While you were doing that, Tony and Bruce were very helpfully prepping the team about their latest radar pings. And you were really glad you didn’t have to be there for that meeting. You didn’t need to go through another round of trying to persuade people to pick the right path. Tony’s insistence had already worn you down enough. They’d have to do the rest of the work in persuading them that the retrieval of the scepter and Chitauri parts was far more important. 

Alongside that, apparently both scientists were making a pit stop on the way back regardless of whether or not the mission was successful. Tony mentioned something about a Doctor Cho… but honestly, your head was too far in the storm clouds to give it second thought. If he thought the team needed her, you trusted his opinion. 

Finally, when everyone was on board and suited up- a little past two PM, you met with them on the flight deck. Purposefully, of course. Wanting to be caught as the only person not leaving with them. It was also very lucky they had a tight window to check out these places, a nice, dense and compact schedule that meant there would be no time for idle chatter on the deck as they all boarded the Quinjet. Though Steve seemed like he might have wanted to say something- anything- staring at you for a long couple of seconds before maybe deciding against it and then leaving. 

Whatever it was, you didn’t really have the time or energy for it right now. You suspected some part of him was disappointed. But your intuition was drowned out by the actual feeling of guilt that had just sort of started to follow him like a shadow. Nothing you could do now. 

Once everyone was loaded the ramp pulled up as the sounds of engines powering hit the air. Though it was those heavy footsteps of the Iron Man suit that you were a little more interested in, as it came up behind you. This high up and isolated it wouldn’t matter what you said. Which was why you cast a sideways glance up, still not… totally on board. “I don’t know about this.” 

“Too late now. Besides, it’s a best-of-both-worlds kind of situation.” He put a careful hand on your shoulder with only the gentlest squeeze. “Relax, would you? Trust me.” 

Saying it like it was that easy. If this was as see-through as you thought it might be, there was going to be trouble. But Tony was Tony. And he often got his way. It was also hard to argue against your own obvious hypocrisy. And even harder to argue against his love for you. 

You said nothing to that, instead shaking your head and stepping back so that he could ignite his thrusters and take off. Standing there you waited until they were mostly out of sight to gather yourself up and head back inside. Back up in the penthouse, TV on in the living room, breaking news reports were already going on and on about the mysterious take-off of the Avengers- and the even more mysterious reason you were staying behind.

Stark Industries business? Or perhaps that fancy new title you held for the United States…? Who could say. 

Heading into the bedroom, you paused by Tony sitting at his desk, awash in a slight blue glow from the holo-display headpiece he was wearing. You set your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss on the top of his head. “You better be right about this.” 

“I’m always right about everything.” Satisfied at the very least that he was still here. Still able to protect you. ...and, probably also that he’d kind of won an argument. 

Remote piloting the suit wasn’t really a capability that was known outside the team. At least you hoped that was the case. Because this had to seem every bit real. Tony thought he was right, and he’d also asked you to trust him on that. So. ...what choice did you have? 

                                                  ---

Deciding to actually make good use of the news running about you, you took a shower, got dressed and presentable (including the painstaking process of covering up your bruises and cuts) and went down to your office to pretend to work. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to get work done. It was just a little impossible with everything going on. Everything that was on your mind. 

And especially when a notification ping about Trish going live on her show stole every last bit of your attention away. It was probably better to leave well enough alone at this point. But. You weren’t very good at that. So you loaded the show up on your computer. And sat back as Trish indeed apologized. Just as Jessica angrily said she would, as her only means of escape. 

“Hi, I'm Trish walker, and this is Trish Talk. During my last broadcast, I made some... flippant and disrespectful comments about a certain individual. I was out of line by belittling this man, and ignorant of my own limitations in challenging him. He is a very fascinating and powerful man, deserving of respect, and to that end, if he's listening, and I think he is... I want to apologize. I hope he forgives me.” 

It was so… on the nose. Terrible. She probably felt awful for being forced to do something like that. But- he’d apparently tried to kill her as well, last night, through other means. You’d forgot in your own trauma to ask anyone about it. ...was that selfish? It certainly didn’t feel good realizing it. But something this obvious- would that really appease him? 

...then again… you’d been on one of the flight decks earlier sending your team away for just as obvious measures… 

You were all helpless mice in his maze. A thought that followed you around for the next few hours. 

What more could be done here? How were you going to fix this? Even if you did get your hands on him… what then? Jessica had already said the obvious. No cell could hold him. Not with what he could do. So… where did that leave you? 

Somewhere uncomfortable. That was for sure. But if it came down to that… Kilgrave or the world… that reminded you of one of the very first times you’d made a choice like that. Even if it hadn’t been much of a choice at all. 

A little after dark, Pepper entered your office unexpectedly. She was carrying papers in her arm, so you expected she needed you to sign something. But- all the telltale signs were there. Something was off. Her eyes were empty as she approached, no expression on her face. And very suddenly you felt trapped. 

It was Pepper- surely he hadn’t… he didn’t think you couldn’t handle Pepper Potts… right? 

She set the stack of papers on your desk and then pointedly held your gaze. The words coming out of her mouth were not hers. And though she was speaking them, they really did just sound like him. “It was a very smart thing you did. Sending the fools out. Now it’s just you and I. I like that. I’ll be in touch, puppy.” 

Maybe. Just maybe… maybe that had been his plan all along. Take away your team as your line of defense. As the only people that would protect you. Look out for you. Come for you, if something terrible happened. And you’d potentially fallen right into his hands. 

If not for one smarmy genius sitting upstairs. 

As Pepper seemed to regain consciousness she looked a little startled. Alarmed. And very frightened. “What did I just-” 

Reaching up to take hold of her wrist lightly, you sent a soothing wave of comfort her way. “Pepper I think you should take the rest of the month off.” 

This was one argument you would win.