#we are all always on the 'let hawkeye sleep' train because let's be real that man fucking deserves it

[remyfire]

I cannot express to you the emotions that flood me every time we get an episode where Hawkeye is passing out where he sits, but BJ is still managing to truck along.

[bestofblackwidow]

The "Let me go - it's okay," she told him the last time we saw the Black Widow, it was - to say the least - emotional. "Let me go - it's okay," she said to Hawkeye, plunging to her death on the arid planet Sleeping in Avengers: Endgame for the ultimate sacrifice to save the world. While the deaths in the Marvel Cinematic Universe go on - sorry, Iron Man - there was probably no more heart-stopping moment, since the former SHIELD spy who became Avenger gave her life to recover the Soul Stone.

Still, it left the MCU in a bind. For years, a Black Widow film had been mooted, right back to 2004 at Lions Gate Entertainment before the rights reverted to Marvel. When Scarlett Johansson first appeared as Natasha Romanoff - the former KGB assassin with a very particular set of skills - in 2010's Iron Man 2, it didn't take long before questions were asked about a solo outing. Marvel Studios conductor Kevin Feige even held discussions with Johansson, who was then only 25. But there was a caveat, he said. "The Avengers comes first."

While others - Thor, Captain America, Black Panther and even Ant-Man - had their moments in the spotlight, the Black Widow was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Not that Johansson thought that her character demanded the same treatment; if she was going to be in front of a Marvel movie, there had to be a reason. "Is there anything exciting to do creatively, as an actor?" she says. “Will we be able to do something extraordinary and strong? And something that stands on its own? "It's what makes the independent Black Widow an intriguing prospect: an inauguration of Phase 4 of the MCU promises to step back in time before her dramatic death to answer the provocative questions that still hover over her Crucially, the script transports audiences back to the events right after Captain America: Civil War, after that huge internal confrontation of the Avengers.

Without relatives or an organization that employs her, the Black Widow is alone, says Johansson. "It gave us the opportunity to really show her when she's kind of out of her game, you know? Because of that, anything was possible." The actress was there "from the start" at the script meetings, as they began to figure out how to delve into Romanoff's origins. "You are trying to map all of this ... which is extremely stressful," she laughs, "because there are no guidelines."

Fortunately, Johansson was not alone. In another inspired choice for the MCU canon, Feige recruited Australian director Cate Shortland, best known for discreet dramas like Somersault and Lore. While she was surprised, Shortland was encouraged by the creative freedom that Marvel was offering. “They allowed me to be myself and encouraged me to make a movie that I was passionate about,” she says. "We were allowed to have a lot of nuances and make a character-oriented film."

After several Skype sessions with Johansson, who also receives producer credit, Shortland worked with a Russian researcher to embody Romanoff's dark story: "the red in my ledger", as she told Loki in 2012 in Os Avengers. As she sings in the trailer, "We have to go back to where it all started" - the promising teaser clips of Romanoff as a young man (played by Ever Anderson, daughter of Paul WS Anderson and Milla Jovovich) in a childhood that seems far from idyllic. That's what makes Black Widow a family reunion of the kind that only Marvel would have the courage to conjure. Joining Romanoff is Yelena Belova, a sister-sister and fellow murderer who trained alongside her in the so-called Red Room, the punitive Soviet facility that produced 'Black Widow' spies.

"Their stories intersect," promises Shortland. "They clash." Played by Lady Macbeth's British star Florence Pugh, Belova is more than a physical match for Romanoff. Still, emotionally is where it really matters. "What Yelena does is kind of point to Natasha's pain," says Pugh. “She is part of Natasha's story. And I think that's why we have an opportunity to look at Natasha's story, because Yelena has been knocking on the door and says, 'Hey, let's deal with this pain. ”As Johansson comments, Belova is not just a carbon copy of his own character.

"She is completely alone. She is strong and different. She is so different (from) Natasha." Beside them are Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and Alexei Shostakov (David Harbor), two father figures whose own stories intertwine with Natasha and Yelena. "This is the coolest thing with this whole group of people. They all had parts of their past that they regretted," says Pugh. “They’re older. They’ve had more life experience. They know more about the system, about this world they’re all living in.” Harbor, the Emmy Stranger Things nominated star, managed to put an indelible mark on the muscular Shostakov, better known as the Red Guardian super soldier, the Russian equivalent of Captain America. "There is a gangster quality to him," the actor smiles. "And he's covered in tattoos. He's got a beard and those gold teeth. He's crazy." But after years of making bad decisions, he's also full of remorse.

"He's in a bad situation," adds Harbor. "And he needs redemption." Weisz's character, Melina, is another who experienced the rigors of the Red Room, a place that put her in contact with Natasha and Yelena. Marking his first dive at the MCU, Weisz acknowledges that the film addresses the idea of ​​discovering his favorite family. "It's definitely about finding out where you belong and where you came from, and what your background story was, and who you really are, and what matters to you - your ideology, I think." Along the way, Feige made reference to The Kids Are All Right - the 2010 Lisa Cholodenko film about a same-sex couple raising two teenagers. "Which is so weird," laughs Johansson. "You would never expect that from a Marvel movie." no it was the only strange nod to the film. Harbor speaks of Shostakov in terms of Philip Seymour Hoffman's drama teacher in the dramatic black comedy The Savages.

Or even expressing "the pathos of a small town, independent, family-run, weird movie... like Little Miss Sunshine". More understandable cinema references include "things like Logan and Aliens and The Fugitive," says Shortland. "We saw movies like that." Certainly, it's easy to see comparisons between Sigourney Weaver's determined Ripley, from James Cameron's masterpiece Aliens, and Johansson's Romanoff, an Avenger who has no superpowers. "We saw it as a force," says Shortland, "because she always has to dig really deep to get out of shit situations." According to the director, everyone in the production invested in deepening Romanoff - even Scottish composer Lorne Balfe (Pennyworth, His Dark Materials), who replaced Alexandre Desplat's original choice. Balfe looked at the character's origins, says Shortland. “He said, 'I want to put it on the ground, because it has been dug up in the movies in the past. I want to give her that flesh and blood. 'And he created this soundtrack that is really Russian."

However, perhaps the real blow here is to recruit Shortland, the first female director to face the Black Widow (and only the second, following Captain Marvel co-director Anna Boden, to enter the MCU). "This film would not be what it is without Cate Shortland," says Pugh. "I think having her eye, and having her mind with this script, has taken her to a whole different realm." Johansson agrees. "" You can feel it was made from a female perspective ... cooked there. "Although Ray Winstone's casting as Supervisor of the Red Room Dreykov (whose daughter contributed to the abundance of red in Romanoff's book, according to Loki) add more to the psychological battleground that the Black Widow will explore, it also deals with victimization, a very pertinent topic in the current climate. The Red Room itself is where trainees are brutally sterilized. "You will see that these women are hard working and strong, and they are murderers - and yet they still need to discuss how they were abused," says Pugh. "It is an incredibly powerful piece."

Judging by the 2020 Oscars, where Pugh and Johansson had their own private relationship session on the red carpet, the two actors got along very well. "She has a really beautiful career ahead of her ... she's a very special person," says Johansson, excited when Pugh's name is mentioned. More specifically, Pugh may well have more Marvel to chew on, if it is rumored that her character will take on the 'Black Widow' mantle for new adventures. By learning Parkour, kickboxing and knife fighting for role, Pugh can safely cut things physically, though she's reluctant to claim that the Black Widow is just a setup for future outings. "Even though it is obviously where everyone wants to go and want to think - think about what comes next - this film never really seemed to be what he was trying to underline." According to Johansson, however, test the audience who saw the film thinks otherwise. "Her character and her performance are so dear." Now, after more than a year of pandemic-related delays to July 2021), it will not be just a few lucky spectators who will be able to see. Black Widow will even be the first Marvel movie to debut simultaneously on the Disney+ streaming site (with a 'main hit' fee), an understandable move considering the uncertainty that still exists around the world. And in fact, after the success of the Marvel TV shows WandaVision and The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, it doesn't seem like such a strange home. Johansson believes that fans will respond to Black Widow, with this flashback of an earlier part of her life, bringing more poignancy to the Endgame's outcome. "Our goal was for them to be satisfied with this story; that maybe they could have some solution, I think, with the death of this character, in a way. It seemed like people wanted this." Shortland agrees. "We felt that we should honor his death," she says. And the Black Widow will surely honor him.

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #7

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/32577124

{the anatomy of caring}

Ships: minor stevetony, focused on Tony & Peter

Warnings: none, it’s just fluff :)

Wc: 2355

It was obvious to anyone who knew the two well. It was Steve and Tony, Iron Man and the Captain. It simply made sense. If the logic wasn’t enough, the two looked at home with one and another. They slipped together like puzzle pieces. Tony always helped Steve through the confusion of a new world, and Steve always knew just how to help Tony deal with the anxiety of their reality. They were the perfect couple, and they both knew that.

Then, the spiderling came along. Tony saw a mirror image of himself in Spiderman. A young, ambitious boy who had the curse and gift of superhuman powers. He defied death each day he swung between buildings, and Tony couldn’t help but be enthralled. He couldn’t help but figure out who the kid was (It was pretty easy to figure out it was a kid, considering he only showed up outside of school hours). Steve, knowing his lover so well, knew instantly how protective Tony felt over the kid he’d merely stalked on the internet.

So when Tony explained the plan to show up at Peter’s with the “Stark Internship” it was no surprise to the captain. To the rest of the team, who’d all moved into the tower, it was a complete shock. The fact that Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, wanted to help this kid hone his powers and skills.

“You,” Bruce said, “Want to help this kid..what? Be a superhero?” “Well, someone’s gotta,” Tony explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Someone has to?” Nat questioned. “He can’t go around swinging off rooftops and beating up bad guys without any training. Or backup.” “Correct me if I am wrong, but didn’t your idiot ass do that?” Sam questioned. “I was not a kid. And I had money, friends, people,” Tony wildly gesticulated. “I am beyond confused,” Nat laughed. “Same train as Romanoff,” Clint agreed. “Guys, this is not that hard. Come on. Let’s take this scenario. He ends up meeting some guys, and, instead of, say, winning, he loses. And either he dies, or gets badly injured. Who does he have? No one? He bleeds out. He’s a kid for fuck sake.” “Cap’s been awfully quiet,” Clint pointed out. “What? I knew this was coming days ago,” Steve explained with a smile, “I know my man. He wasn't just gonna let this kid get himself into trouble if he could do anything about it. Plus, Tony doesn’t keep tabs, he violently invades lives.” Tony shot him a look. “With love, invades with lots and lots of love,” he quickly fixes, flashing his million dollar smile at his boy. Tony just rolled his eyes and focused on addressing the group, “Look, I know it’s a lot, but I think it’s just what I have to do. And I own the tower, so, my choice,” he said with a hint of banter in his voice. Tony headed towards the elevator. “Where the hell are you going?” Sam asked. “The spiderling’s.”

Tony left before he could hear any of the exasperated responses. It was a fair drive down to Queen’s where the boy lived. He parked outside the small building, and he then climbed the seven flights of stairs to the apartment. He knocked on the door and greeted, “Hello, I’m Tony, Tony Stark.” He smiled his media smile, extending a hand towards May. “I-I know. Mr. Stark, hello, w-what are you doing here?” “Well, your nephew Peter applied for the Steptember Grant, and well, he got it,” Tony said, thrusting all the enthusiasm he could muster. He maintained his fabricated nonchalant, disregarding manner in most places. “Wow this is, this is incredible! Peter will be home any minute now. Come in, come in. Can I get you a drink?”

He was back at the tower, recapping his meeting with Peter to Cap. “-can you believe no one knows? Well, now it's knew. No one knew this kid was swinging around. And he got these powers with no one to help him through it, and god, it must have been awful. But, he’s good, Cap, he’s so good. He feels the need to help people, beyond just guilt. He’s, he’s-” “Tones,” Steve said, kissing his cheek, “Take a deep breath.” To be fair to the man, he hadn’t slept for at least 36 hours. With all that coffee in his system he had the right to be a bit uncomposed. The two were sitting at the breakfast bar, well Tony was sitting and Steve was behind it, cooking some eggs for the younger man. “I’m just glad I found him before he killed himself trying to save the world.” “Me too. How long has it been since you’ve slept?” “J?” “Sir, it has been 36 hours.“ “Tonyyyy,” Steve said, clearly disappointed. “Steveeee.” “I’m forcing you to bed.” “I have work to do. Plus it’s only eight o’clock.” “Eat then sleep, honey,” Steve said in that voice that you just didn’t ignore.

C2

At first the “Stark Internship” started as Tony upgrading Peter’s suit, monitoring his patrols, and teaching how to fight. Well, Natasha taught him how to fight. After she offered, Tony was in no place to deny. It was overwhelming to Peter. He was being taught about tech with Tony Stark and being taught how to fight from the black widow.

For the first couple weeks, he was a nervous wreck in the tower. He’d hardly speak to anyone and only do and touch what he was told to. He’d change, head straight to the gym, and then Natasha would train him. At first, the training was silent, other than Nat’s coaching. Then, slowly, the two began talking. It started with Nat asking how he first got his power, then it moved to her first missions, and then suddenly Nat knew a lot about Peter. And Peter was one of the few people in the world who knew a lot about Natasha. “-so what, you fought alien robots sent by Thor’s brother?” “Yeah, that's about right. I had to get up to one of the buildings, so, with Cap’s shield as my trampoline, I launched myself onto one of their flying machines. Pretty fun time up there.” “Holy shit, that’s incredible. How’d you stop them?” Peter knew how the battle had gone down, afterall he’d been in New York during the attack, but it was something else hearing it from an actual Avenger. “Well, it was quite complicated. The scientist-” Nat reminded him to keep his wrist straight. He made the fix, and went back to punching the bag. She launched back into the tale,”The scientist, remember him, who Loki’d controlled woke up mid battle. He’d installed a death switch for the portal, but to access it we needed the scepter. But, the thing is, the government basically sent a nuke toward New York in an effort to contain the aliens, so Tony grabbed the nuke and aimed from inside of the portal and threw it at their main spacecraft. This turned off all of the alien tech. He was a he-” “Hey Kid, Nat. Please don’t tell me you're telling the New York story,” Tony said from the entrance. “Hi Mr. Stark.” Nat rolled her eyes, “I am telling the New York story. You were a he-” “Don’t say it. You almost done?” “I’ll call it. Good job today kid.” “Thanks.”

Similar to the gym, he’d become far more comfortable around Tony and in his lab. At first he’d sit silently, doing his work. Then he got used to Tony’s eccentric tendencies, he memorized the layout and where everything was, and he’d also been unofficially given a workspace. It became easier and easier to feel comfortable. The late night coffee and deep chats were simply a bonus. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it felt like he had a father figure. It was nice.

One day, Tony was vibin’ to ACDC and chatting with Steve whilst working on Mock 50 of his new suit design when Peter showed up. Steve being in the lab was something Peter had also become accustomed to. “Jarvis, please get some good music on in here. Queen perhaps?” Peter requested. He did it to annoy Mr. Stark, and it did just that. “Hey kid,” Cap said. “Don’t “hey kid” him,” Mr. Stark said, faking anger, “Did you just insult my music? How dare you? I am revoking all Jarvis privileges.” Peter laughed alongside Cap. “Sir, you can’t do that. I quite like the kid, and the innovations he is creating require my attention.” “Why did I program you to have a goddamn personality?” Tony said, focusing back to his work, “And Jarvis, put the quality music back now.” “Anway, how was school?” Steve asked. “Good, yeah. The same really. We had another one of your “fitness” videos for class today. Real good,” Peter joked. “Oh god, please don’t tell me they really use those.” “They really use those,” Peter smiled, “I’m going for a shower. See you in a flash.” “Wrong superhero, kid,” Mr. Stark called. “Idiot,” Peter heard Cap mutter into the top of Mr. Stark’s head.

Upon returning, he noticed the absence of the team leader. “Where did Cap go?” “Actual work or something stupid like that.” Peter just smiled as he settled down at his workstation. He wanted to try out some new formulas for his web fluid. He’d had an idea in spanish class, and scribbled it down in his notebook. He fished for it in his backpack.

It was so easy. Too easy. And so so comfortable.

C3

“Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Peter had just finished sparring with Nat, and Tony, unusually, came up to the gym to “collect” him. He hadn’t done that for months. Mainly because Peter stopped coming straight down to Tony’s lab. Instead, he went to the kitchen and, mainly because Steve forced him, ate some food. He usually ended up in a random chat with Sam or Bucky. Occasionally he would catch Banner, and he’d end up in a different laboratory. He was always happy to learn about what the incredible doctor was up to. Sometimes, he was even able to provide a suggestion or two. Bruce always looked impressed by the boy. It made Peter smile.

Then he would actually make his way down to the lab, but not before trying to find Hawkeye. He'd wanted to learn some tricks with the bow and arrow. Somehow, Clint would be dragged into teaching Peter how to fire a bow once a week. At least. Clint pretended he minded through teasing and jokes, but realistically he loved hearing about the kid’s week. He’d always been good with kids. It became a running joke that Clint would let Peter know about all the tech upgrades he wanted, and then Peter’d report them to Tony. Most of the time Tony replied with something snarky like, “Tell the idiot he shouldn’t have picked a dumbass weapon like a bow and arrow,” or “do it yourself if you care that much.”

The Avengers Tower had become home just as much as his apartment in Queens was, and it was clear that Tony knew that. Hence the, “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.” He took the little Avenger to the elevator, hitting floor 80. He was a little confused given that floors 75-90 were all bedroom floors for the avengers or just spare bedrooms. “Mr. Stark-” “You’ll see, kid.” In reality, Tony was nervous. He and Steve decided a while back that Peter deserved his own space in the tower, but he had been scared that Peter wouldn’t like it. That he picked the wrong colours, or mattress, or well, anything.

The doors opened and there were two doors facing one another. Tony opened one of them with a key he pulled out of his black suit. The door opened and he was met by a beautiful and modern room. It had a huge bed and tv. There was a desk equipped with the latest stark Holographic technology. In the corner was a suit, specifically a spider suit. That is when it clicked. “Mr. Stark, is, is this all mine?” “Yeah kid, sorry if you don’t like anything. Cap and I did the best we could knowing what you like. And ye-” Peter cut him off with a hug, “thank you.” “Anything for you, kid. Just say the word. Want a tour?” Peter eagerly nodded. “Alright so that’s the bed, obviously. No more sleeping in the guest rooms or that couch in the worksho-” “You sleep ther-” “Don’t say that I sleep there, I am no role model for sleep schedules.” Peter just smiled. “This is a little workshop area I mocked up. You can’t really tinker up here, but do all the designing you want,” he pulled up the most recent project Peter was working on, “Then, just through there is the bathroom, a little lounge area over there and yeah, that’s all. Oh, there’s two mini fridges by the lounge area.” Just as Tony finished his explanation, Steve showed up. “Tones, you showed it to him without me,” Cap complained. “Sorry, babes, you took too long.” he turned around and placed a little kiss on his lips. “It’s fine. How do you like it Pete?” “It’s, it’s-” Peter couldn’t think of any words to describe how incredible it was to have a room at the Avengers Tower, but more importantly how incredible it was to have so many people looking out for him. Before he had just one, Aunt May. She is amazing, but he’d always longed for just a little more. Then, with the Avengers, he’d been given a lot more. They became his family. And now his home. “Thank you,” was all Peter could muster before falling onto the floor.

The two of them, now in each other's arms, just looked down fondly at the boy. “We did good,” Cap whispered. “We did good,” Tony agreed. They did good with more than just the room.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 17582 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 3 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

_____________________________

Chapter 3

At some point, Havoc managed to fall asleep for a few hours. When the next morning came, it was without much sign of the dawn. The house itself seemed to be holding something heavy, and Havoc couldn’t shake that feeling. Still, he got on up. His legs were still killing him, but he refused to let them keep him in bed, not after what happened yesterday. Normally Breda slept through Havoc getting up, or at least rolled over and got back to sleep for a few minutes, but today he didn’t seem willing to, and instead got up with Havoc as well. Neither of them said a word, but Breda did keep an extra eye on Havoc, which Havoc couldn’t really blame him for. They made their way down the stairs together, Havoc stopping to look in the living room, Mustang was still there, reclined on some pillows, with Hawkeye still in his arms. Hayate was sleeping nearby them. Havoc and Breda exchanged a look, then both made their way to the kitchen, very quietly. Neither of them wanted to disturb Hawkeye, not after last night.

Fuery was already in the kitchen, it apparently being his turn on watch. He had a much-needed pot of coffee going, and both Havoc and Breda partook in it before helping with breakfast. It wasn’t long into the process of cooking breakfast that Falman joined them, apparently in the same boat as Havoc and Breda as far as sleeping in went. Falman stopped to look at the sleeping pair, and Fuery joined him for a second.  Havoc saw Fuery make a beckoning motion, and within moments Hayate was joining them in the kitchen.  Soon after the little dog was quietly eating on some leftovers seasoned with a little bacon grease while the other men quietly drank their coffee and ate. No one talked. No one spoke. Everyone kept silent. Finally, though, as they finished up, Falman broke the silence.

“How long do you think we should let them sleep for?” he asked, his voice still soft, almost muffled in the oppression that seemed to hang in the air, the sound of pouring rain adding to it.

“As long as they want to,” Breda said firmly. “After last night, they both need it.”

“Hawkeye especially,” Fuery said, looking down at his coffee. “The way she screamed and begged…” he trailed off. “It was haunting.”

Breda looked over at Havoc curiously. “Look, Hav, I’m not trying to pry, but when you and the captain and general were here last time, did you have any hint of this?”

Havoc frowned, and leaned back in his seat, trying to figure out just what to tell them. What would be too much, and what would be alright? Finally, he sighed and sat up straighter.

“The whole way here, on the train, in town, on the way to the house, Hawkeye gave Mustang the cold shoulder. No, it was more intense than that. It was like she was walking on the border between being angry and outright attacking him. Maybe not physically, but some sort of attack,” he said. “Anytime he tried to show her any compassion or worry, she had sharp words and would jerk away from them. He got really frustrated with it too, although he tried to be calm.”

He frowned. “There were a few times that stuck out, though, when Hawkeye either left, or when I though the two of them were about to come to blows. One time was when I started to ask if her father had taught the general Flame Alchemy. I didn’t even finish the sentence before she was out the door to check on the horses. Another was when the General asked her where her father would keep his notes, and she said something like ‘He never told me where he planned to put his notes. Sir.’ And I got the feeling that there was something a lot heavier to that. I never got clarification on what.”

He looked up at the men. “Mustang did keep looking after her, though. He made sure she wasn’t in her father’s bedroom alone. Her dad apparently died in it, while she was looking after him. And he sent her out of the study at one point and burned something he found after that. He never seemed to expect her to go in the basement. He was real squirrelly about me being down there too.”

“Actually,” he blinked. “It was after that, that things took a turn. Hawkeye disappeared, and we searched to find her. I found her on the roof, and she all but admitted that she used to come on the roof a lot as a child because it was hard to find her there. But while we were up there… well, she broke down on me. We talked a little, although no, she didn’t tell me much of anything, but after that she and the general seemed to patch it up.”

Havoc shook his head. “I don’t have any details on what her childhood was like, and even less on her father. But, well, from what I did learn, it seemed like Mustang was the only bright spot in her childhood, and that her father was a fan of harsh punishments.”

“…do you think that’s what went on in that basement?” Fuery asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Harsh punishments?”

“Even ‘harsh punishments’ shouldn’t leave someone with so much trauma attached,” Breda said. “Not trauma like that. This was… something more.”

“Something a lot more,” Havoc said with a frown. “This might explain a lot about her,” he said.

Falman’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want to analyze the captain too much, not without her permission, but…” he looked up at the other men. “It sounds to me as if Hawkeye was abused as a child. Even before… whatever that was.”

The others shifted uncomfortably, but none of them argued the point.

Finally, Havoc spoke as well. “I think she was also neglected. From the way she talked last time, it sounded like she didn’t always have food or maybe other things she needed.”

“So, he was a crap father all the way around.” Breda said.

“The only good thing I can say, is that Hawkeye told a story about when Mustang was first here, and she was a child swimming in the pond. Mustang stumbled on her, thought she was drowning, tried to rescue her, and Hawkeye thought he was after her. She socked him in the nose and ran back to the house screaming for her father. He apparently drew the line at that and was angry at Mustang until it was all worked out.” Havoc said.

“If the only good thing you can say about the man is that he protected his daughter from perverts, then that’s not saying much about him, since that’s basic,” Breda said. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed. “No wonder she was able to survive Ishval as well as she did. She already had the coping skills that other snipers didn’t.”

“Twice the trauma,” Fuery said.

“Or more,” Falman put in, “depending on what happened in that basement.”

“Yeah.”

The men fell silent and then, one by one, got up to attend to the chores for the day. They went through all of them quietly, not daring to wake either Mustang or Hawkeye.

When Mustang woke up, he didn’t leave the couch or Hawkeye, adamant about not leaving her. Hawkeye had really exhausted herself, Havoc figured, because it was nearing noon before she began to stir. Lunch was Fuery’s soup reheated, and they ate it in shifts, the men having unconsciously agreed that someone should be in there with Hawkeye and Mustang at all times, just in case. It was Havoc’s unofficial turn on watch, and he sat in the living room in a chair, reading a book while the fire crackled in the fireplace. He could hear Breda and Falman talking over plans for exploring and analyzing the basement, and Fuery working on cleaning up the kitchen. But when Hawkeye stirred, his attention snapped to her, and he signaled to Breda. Within moments all had fallen silent, the other three men hovering near the doorway, watching carefully.

“Riza?” Mustang said softly, and she let out a soft sigh and tried to turn over. Of course, being on a couch, she couldn’t, causing her to wake more. She blinked sleepily up at Mustang.

“Mm… Roy?” she said, her voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said gently. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.”

She blinked at him then, and then looked around confused. “Why are we on the couch?” she asked. “And…what’s going on?”

“You cried yourself to sleep on me,” he said. “And I promised I’d not leave you.”

Hawkeye looked around, and Havoc could see that she was still confused, especially when she saw the others gathered in the doorway. With the way they were looking at her, Havoc figured it was clear that something else besides just falling asleep on her commanding officer had happened.

“What’s… what’s going on?” she asked, and Havoc could see her tensing up.

“Riza,” Mustang redirected her attention to him, and Havoc took note that neither of them had moved off of each other. “What’s the year?”

“The… year?” Her brow furrowed, although Havoc thought it was more at the question then because f trying to remember the date. “It’s 1916,” she said.

“And do you know who each of these men are?” he questioned her.

“Yes,” she said, shooting him a strange look before redirecting her attention to each of them. “First Lieutenant Jean Havoc. First Lieutenant Heymans Breda. First Lieutenant Vato Falman. Master Sergeant Kain Fuery.” She named them all dutifully, but the question as to why he was asking her this was clear in her tone.

“Good,” he said. “Now—What do you remember about last night?”

“Last night?” The question seemed to surprise her more than the others, and Havoc saw her take a quick glance down herself, looking for injuries. Finding none, she seemed to refocus on the question. “I…” she paused. “I’m not sure. The last thing I remember was… Let’s see. I finished cleaning. There weren’t any more chores to be done. I thought I heard someone moving around, and I was about to see if it was Havoc. But then I saw that the basement door was open when it hadn’t been before, and something didn’t feel right. I called out for Havoc, but before I heard an answer, I was… I was pushed from behind, and into the basement,” her voice sounded surprised, and there was a trace of something Havoc didn’t want to hear in her voice. It sounded like fear. “I… I tried to get out, but it was locked. I couldn’t escape, and I—” She shuddered. There was definitely fear in her voice now, and in her body language too. “I… I couldn’t… I….” She trailed off, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, and Havoc could have sworn he heard her say something that sounded like “just like the last time” but he couldn’t be sure.

Mustang’s hand came up to stroke her hair. “Do you remember anything after that?” He asked her gently.

She shook her head and lowered her hand. “No. Just… panic. Nothing but panic.” She looked up at Mustang, glanced at the rest of them. “What happened to me?”

Msutang shook his head. “We’re still working some of that out,” he said. “But we really don’t know. What we do know is that when we got back from town you were missing. We found you in the basement and… Riza… you were deep in the throes of a flashback. We couldn’t break you out of it and drug you up here. You eventually recognized me, but thought I’d come back after your father kicked me out.”

She looked horrified. “I—I—” Havoc had never seen her at a loss for words like this, but she didn’t seem to know what to say. “A-and… did I…?”

She trailed off, glancing at him and the others, and there seemed to be something that she was unwilling to say. Havoc both desperately wanted to know what, but also didn’t want to invade her privacy. Still, what could she be hiding? It burned at him.

Mustang glanced at them as well, and then refocused back on her. “Not in so many words. But they know something happened down there. Something very bad.” She made a strange noise in the back of her throat and let her head fall into his chest. Mustang stroked her hair. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. But you will need to tell them something. I haven’t. It’s not my place.”

She sighed, and after a moment, turned her head from where it rested, looking at them with a bone-weary expression on her face and an old pain in her eyes. It was clear to Havoc that she wasn’t currently ready to tell them anything.

“…. Why don’t you let me get you something to eat or drink,” Fuery said, his voice full of kindness. “You both could use something.” Apparently, Havoc wasn’t the only one to see she wasn’t ready yet.

“Yes, thank you, Fuery,” Mustang said, then turned his attention back to Riza, murmuring to her, something too quiet for the rest of them to hear. She seemed to respond, although Havoc had no idea what she was saying.

That was alright by Havoc. They two of them probably needed some time to figure things out, especially now that Hawkeye was back to her senses—something that honestly relieved Havoc.

Mustang got Hawkeye to eat some of the soup that Fuery brought them, but she clearly didn’t have much of an appetite, and the bowl came back mostly untouched, to Fuery’s worried disappointment. Havoc saw Breda give the young man’s shoulder a squeeze at one point. All of them wanted to do something to help, although no one was quite sure what. Mustang and Hawkeye stayed in the living room most of the afternoon, quietly talking things over. No one bothered them. Going in there almost felt like an intrusion to Havoc, and it wasn’t hard to tell that the others agreed.

Around supper time, Mustang managed to cajole Hawkeye upstairs for a shower, although she still looked shaken to Havoc’s eyes. Nothing else to be done, Havoc reheated Fuery’s soup again, and soon the four of them were eating supper. Footsteps caught their ears and Havoc looked up when Mustang appeared in the kitchen. He looked serious and grim as his eyes traveled over all of them. “When you’re finished,” he said, “come to the living room. She’s decided to tell you.”

With that he left, and Havoc exchanged looks with the others. The question of what, exactly, she was going to tell them hung over Havoc’s head, and, with her reaction, he wasn’t quite sure if he even wanted to finish dinner. Uneasy looks passed between all of them, assuring Havoc it wasn’t only him that was feeling uneasy about this. They all knew that Hawkeye had trauma. But it was one thing when it was war. It was another when it was a deep, traumatizing, childhood secret of a close friend, and it didn’t seem to sit well with anyone else either.

As they finished eating, they cleaned up the food, and Fuery took the time to fix a cup for tea before they left.

“For Riza,” he said softly, and Havoc couldn’t really fault him for that. She probably could use it no matter what.

They filed into the living room, Hawkeye and Mustang sitting once again on the couch. Havoc sat in a nearby chair, and the other men settled in as well. Hawkeye was in fresh clothes, this time what looked to be a button down of Mustangs, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was down, still looking a little damp. Mustang was right beside her, a hand on her arm. The rain outside poured in a steady sound, the fire crackled in the fireplace. The room almost had a feel of a confession to it, and it made Havoc uncomfortable.

Fuery handed Hawkeye the mug of tea before sitting down, and she took it with a murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around it, although she didn’t take a sip of it. And then, they waited.

And finally, Riza spoke.

“My father,” she said, the words feeling heavy, “was an alchemist. This you already know.”

It was something that they knew, but somehow this pronunciation of it seemed heavier to Havoc, as if there was a weight to it.

“I have few early memories of him. I think he loved me at one point, because I do remember him playing with me. But that all changed when mother died.”

No one said a word. Everyone was listening too closely. Havoc found it almost hard to breathe.

“When I was four, my mother died. I don’t remember her, not really. Just… associations. Music. Light. Laughter. Hugs. Flowers. Happiness. After she died, none of that existed anymore. Father threw himself into his work, and I was left behind. I often had to fend for myself, and I learned to take care of myself. Father didn’t care about me anymore.”

She turned the mug in her hands, her eyes staring at it, but not really seeming to see it. “I mentioned that when I broke that plate, I got my first thrashing. I was five. Father had been on a research bender. When he emerged from his study to find that, he was enraged. I couldn’t sit down for days without pain. That, I remember clearly.”

Havoc felt his jaw set. Breda was on the stool next to him, and Havoc could see the other man tense, although there was still a waiting look in his eyes. A realization entered Havoc’s mind. This wasn’t what had her begging in the basement for her father to stop. The thought made him sick. It had to be something worse than that, but what else could it be? Dark possibilities whispered at the corners of his mind. Whether he wanted to know or not, Havoc was going to find out what happened.

Riza continued. “I learned over the years to avoid my father after his research bends. He was always more volatile then. I also learned to fend for myself, to stay quiet, and not to bother father. He was a frightening man. I took care of the house, and of myself, and father took care of his studies. That was how we coexisted.”

She paused, looking down into the tea again. “Money was… sparse. We often did without. I learned to hunt, forage, and grow food. I traded up for chickens and a goat. I sold whatever I could just so we would have a little money that father wouldn’t completely spend on alchemy supplies. It was never enough, though.

One day, father started to take on apprentices. I quickly learned to avoid them, and that most of them wouldn’t last long. They never did. And then, one day, he took on a boy named Roy Mustang. To my surprise, he lasted.”

Havoc switched his attention to look up at Mustang. He could see him sitting there tightlipped, unhappy. He clearly wanted to do something, although what that something was, Havoc didn’t know. It honestly looked like Mustang himself didn’t know.

“Roy grew to be my father’s most talented pupil, and he wanted to share the secrets of his research with him—the secrets of Flame Alchemy.”

It wasn’t as if it wasn’t something that they hadn’t all guessed, but to hear Riza say that her father was the one who evented Flame Alchemy felt like a huge secret had just been dropped in their laps. There was some uncomfortable shifting, and Havoc exchanged a brief look with Breda.

“However,” she continued, “Roy made the decision to join the military instead and father, incensed, disavowed him and kicked him out. After that, father locked himself into the basement, and threw himself into his research in a frenzied way like I’d never seen before. I was afraid that he was going to die down in that basement.”

She paused to take in a breath, and then to swallow, and Havoc tensed up. Bad things were coming. He could feel it.

“I was on the verge of figuring out how to get down to him myself, when he finally opened the door and half collapsed on the stairs. I thought he was dead, and it frightened me, but some water and food revived him. Then he asked me a question that I thought I’d never hear: ‘My Riza, do you want to help me with my work? Can I trust you with it?’ and I, astonished at this, said yes.”

She let out a sardonic laugh and Havoc saw her hands tighten on the mug. “He wanted me. Me! He never wanted me. I was little more than a nuisance to him on a good day. But now he wanted me to help him with his research? He wanted to trust me with it? Of course, I said yes.”

Something about the way she said that sounded like a death sentence, but Havoc didn’t have time to focus on that, not when she was continuing.

“A couple of days later, he took me down to the basement, and he shut the door behind us.”

Havoc stilled.

“He sat me down on the table and gave me something to drink.”

His breath caught.

“It left me feeling groggy and tingly and out of it. And then he had me take off my shirt.”

Dread filled his chest, and the shake her voice made it worse.

“Once that was done, he had me lay down, with my bare back to him. He secured me in place with those ropes.”

Her voice was trembling, and Havoc felt his stomach roll.

“And then he began to draw on my back.”

Havoc blinked. What? What? That—that wasn’t what he was expecting. But from the catch in Hawkeye’s voice, there was something more serious about this then he realized—then any of them realized.

“For hours he drew out his array in perfect detail on my back. And then—”

She cut herself off and, after a pause, sat the untouched tea down. Her face was pained, and no one knew what she was about to do. She turned away from them, letting the blanket drop, and began to unbutton her shirt. Havoc knew he should look away, protect her privacy. He felt like he shouldn’t see whatever it was about to see, that it was something forbidden and dark. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. When her shirt dropped and her back was exposed, he felt his blood run cold and his stomach wanted to expel everything it had ever eaten. In horror, he looked over at the others, each of them looking just as horrified, none of them expecting this.

How could they have?

Covering her back, from the bottom of her neck past the small of her back, and stretching from side to side was a large, intricate, red tattoo, one that was clearly a more complicated version of Mustang’s array. And it was marred by heavy scars.

Her voice shook as she spoke, her back still facing them. “He began tattooing it on my back. I was fifteen, and he was my father. It hurt, it was painful, but I thought—I thought—”

Her voice broke, and they could see her shoulders shaking. “I thought he would love me,” She finally continued, and her voice broke Havoc’s heart. “I thought I was baring a great honor for him. I thought it was something that I could finally do for him. But he never cared for me, just his research and his array. I was still nothing to him, and there was nothing I could do about it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”

There was bitterness in her voice, but also tears, and Havoc’s heart, broken thought it was, twisted inside him for her.

“About a year after it was completed, he died. Roy came back, and… I thought… I showed him the array, and he studied it. We thought we could help people with it. But… Ishval happened and I…”

It was clear that her emotions were getting the better of her, but she forged on, shaking her head. “I was the barer of flame alchemy,” her voice was shaking, but hard. It was emotional, but determined. “I chose who to give it to. And after that I swore that there would be no more flame alchemists. I asked Roy to burn it off of me. There could be no more flame alchemists. There couldn’t—I wouldn’t—”

A breath that sounded more like a sob escaped her, and she stopped talking. Her arms wrapped around herself as her shoulders shook, and Havoc could see her fingers digging into her elbows. Only her not-sobs, the pouring rain, and the crackling of the fire made any noise. No one knew what to say or what to do. It certainly explained a lot. It explained why Mustang and Hawkeye were so close. It explained why She was always wearing high necked things and refusing to wear things that showed her back. It explained why she always wore those turtlenecks under her uniform. It explained why she chose to stay with Mustang, so she could keep an eye on the flame alchemy that she had given him.

It’s explained her breakdown in the basement earlier, and why that place affected her the way it did.

The silence stretched, and finally Havoc, unable to stand it any further, pushed himself to his feet. He felt all eyes, except for Hawkeye’s, follow him. He ignored them, only focused on the woman in front of him. Without a word, he came to sit beside Hawkeye, on the other side of her, and reached out to her.

“Let’s get you put back together,” he said quietly, kindly, gently, as he reached out for the shirt. He carefully pulled it up and over her shoulders, guiding her arms back into it and doing up the buttons on it.

“Riza—listen carefully. We love you. We care about you. It doesn’t matter about your past or what you did, or how scared you were then. We still care about you.”

He reached up to gently pull her hair out of the collar line of the shirt.

“Thank you for explaining this to us. You’ve been through a lot more then I could have ever imagined, and at the hands of someone who should have fought to protect you, not sought to harm you. And what he did was harm. It harmed your mind and it harmed your body. But listen, Ri—you’ve got something so much better than that now. You’ve got us. And We’re not going to let anyone hurt you, or use you again, alright? I need you to believe and trust that. Can you?”

Hawkeye’s eyes were locked on his, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’d still… after all of…” she seemed to be struggling for words. “…You don’t think less of me?”

It was honestly not a question he had even considered, and she deserved to know as much. “Never, Riza,” he said. “I think you’re stronger than I ever imagined you were.”

She looked at him, a strange vulnerability in her eyes, something that made Havoc think about his young nieces and nephews, when they knew they had done something wrong that they were sorry for and were waiting for confirmation that they were still loved. Havoc was struck, then, that this was a glimpse into child-Riza, waiting to hear that someone, somewhere, cared about her, herself, who she was, and without condition. It was something that never received then.

Havoc would give it to her now.

“I could never think less of you, Riza.”

They were honest words, spoken as honestly as he could say them. He could tell that she believed him, but she still looked out at the others, uncertainty in her eyes.

No one in the team showed the slightest hesitation in what they said.

Breda nodded and stood, taking a couple of steps closer to her. His hand rested on her shoulder. “It makes me think less of your father. But you? Never, Riza.”

Falman stood as well, coming closer. “Few people could survive what you did as intact as you are. I’m amazed. It makes me think more of you.”

Fuery was already on his feet, crossing over to them, reaching out to take her hand. “Nothing could make me think less of you. I’m in awe, if anything.”

She blinked at them, as if surprised, and looked over to Mustang, who just smiled at her. Havoc squeezed her hand, and her gaze turned back to him.

“You were hurt, Riza, and we can’t do anything about that,” he said. “But you are loved and cared about and valued for who you are now. We’re your family, Riza, and nothing will change that. Nothing at all.”

She was shaking under their hands, as her face started to crumple. She raised a hand to her eyes as she could no longer contain her tears. But these tears, they had the feel of something cleansing, something good. Havoc reached out, and pulled her close, like he had that night on the roof, and let her cry herself out on him again. When she was finished, she wiped at her eyes. They were red, her cheeks splotchy, her hair a bit messy, but Havoc didn’t care. He didn’t think anyone did.

“Th-thank you,” she said to them, emotion still in her voice. “I… thank you.”

For a moment there was silence, until Mustang softly spoke up. “it’s late,” he said. “And it’s been a long day. Why don’t we all go to bed?”

No one objected, and one at a time they took their turn for the shower. Havoc was toweling off his hair when he passed by Riza’s room. He glanced in, and saw her sitting on the bed by herself, that stuffed yellow rabbit in her hands. Havoc figured that Mustang must be in the shower. He wouldn’t have left her alone otherwise. Still, Havoc didn’t say anything. He knew that Riza was aware of him. But he wasn’t going to push his presence on her. Instead, he stood in the doorway, waiting for her to either acknowledge him or for Mustang to come back. He could be patient either way.

“You know,” she said after a few moments, “I don’t think you know how much your words meant to me.” Her voice was soft in a way that Havoc seldom heard it. “I’m, in general, a confident adult. But there are still things that get to me, or that crop up no matter how many years have passed.” She paused again, her fingers rubbing the ears of that that rabbit. “I often feel like I have to prove myself or earn my place—earn that people care about me. I know I don’t, but I still feel that way. I tried to prove myself to Father all my life. I let him brand me, thinking that it would earn me his love. But nothing was ever good enough.”

She looked up at him. “…you love so easily. And what you and the men said tonight… You saw me weak, at probably my weakest, and yet…” she looked back down at the rabbit. “… it means more then you know, what you all said.”

His heart ached for her, and he walked in sitting beside her on the bed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything either, gathering his words. “You shouldn’t have to earn anyone’s love, Riza,” he said, “but you never have to earn mine. I’m certain that you never have to earn the other guys’ love either.” He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in, giving her a kiss on the head, similar to that night on the roof. “I don’t know if it’s still hard for you to accept or not, but we do love you. Nothing you do will take that away, alright? Nothing in your past, nothing at all.”

She sighed and leaned into him. “I’ll try my best to remember that.”

“We’ll remind you,” he said. “As much as you need it.”

She said nothing, but just stayed leaning against him. Havoc didn’t say anything either, just let them both be. They stayed that way until Mustang came back, and then Havoc left them together. He saw Mustang reaching out to her, and her curling into his arms as he shut the door. Good. They were what each other needed tonight.

Havoc made his way down the hall towards the room he and Breda were sharing, pausing at the stairs. Falman and Fuery were already in their room. Did he hear something? He paused to listen again, but heard nothing, and so shrugged and went on. This place was old and drafty, and Hayate was somewhere down there. He was probably just hearing the dog.

Havoc kept going and entered their room, shutting the door and changing. Breda was already in the bed, although it was clear he wasn’t asleep. Havoc didn’t think anything of it, and so was startled when Breda’s voice, quiet, but intense, broke their silence.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?” Havoc said.

“About… about all of that. What we learned tonight.” Breda said.

Havoc shook his head and sat on the bed. “No. Not at all. I suspected that her father was abusive and neglectful, but I never thought about something like that.”

“Who would have thought about something like that?” Breda spat out.

“Her father, apparently,” Havoc replied.

“Yeah.” They both fell quiet, and then Breda spoke again, his voice full of anger. “How?” he said. “How could he do that? And to his own daughter? Just treat her like—like—like a notepad! Like some sort of journal, he could lock away!” He was struggling not to explode in anger, and Havoc couldn’t really blame him. “She was his daughter! And he took advantage of her, mutilated her for his own good! What did he think was going to happen to her? She’d never be able to do so many things. What if she got married one day? How was she supposed to explain that to her husband?”

“Do you really think he would have just let her get married?” Havoc said. “If he did, it probably would have been just to someone he knew, or maybe even an apprentice, and all it would have been, was an arranged marriage. She’d have been just as used.”

Breda’s jaw worked. “You’re right,” he said. “And none of this is right. I just—” he shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, Hav. This whole thing…”

“Yeah,” Havoc agreed, and sighed heavily. “I think… I think it’s one of those things we’re just going to have to acknowledge and figure out how to deal with. There’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Breda was silent, and then just shook his head, rolling over. “It’s amazing she’s as adjusted as she is,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation for him.

Havoc didn’t push, but he couldn’t help but turn thoughts over in his own head that night as he struggled for sleep.

The next day, when Havoc woke and went downstairs, he wasn’t surprised to find Hawkeye down there already, working on breakfast. She looked at him, a little uncertain, but he just gave her an easy smile. “Hey, Ri,” he said. “What’s for breakfast this morning?”

That seemed to put her at ease, and she turned back to the food. “The usual. Eggs, Bacon, biscuits, coffee.”

“Whatcha need help with?” he asked.

“If you could start on the bacon, that would be helpful,” she replied.

He eased into helping her, starting on the bacon, and when Fuery came down a little bit later he jumped right into helping them out. The more normal they seemed to act, the more at ease Hawkeye seemed to become. Every time someone new came down the stairs, Havoc saw her tense a little, as if she expected something from them. Every time they treated her normally, she seemed to relax a little more. By the time Mustang came down the stairs, she was pretty much at ease.

Breakfast was an easy affair, giving them all time to relax and wake up. It couldn’t last, though, not with everything that needed to be talked about. Havoc glanced around the cleared off table where they were all sitting. Hawkeye and Mustang were sitting on one side, side by side. Breda was across from them, serious. Havoc set beside his best friend, leaning back in his chair even as Fuery and Falman took places at the ends. It was clear that Breda was going to take command of this questioning, even if it was equally as clear that he didn’t want to interrogate Hawkeye or Mustang. The need couldn’t be denied, though, which they all understand from a tactical point of view.

“Alright, first things first,” Breda said, focused on Hawkeye. “I know that you said that Mustang burned off the most important information, but how much can still be gained from your tattoo, if someone got ahold of it?”

Havoc could hear then implied “of you,” in the question, but, just like Breda, he shied away from that thought.

Hawkeye glanced at Mustang, who was the one who answered. Havoc supposed that made sense. Mustang would have more of an alchemic knowledge and was the one to burn the tattoo.

“Depends on the alchemist,” he said. “It would have to be a highly trained alchemist. Most of what I left were either common or things that people have come up with in the past. The part that draws them together into flame alchemy isn’t there.” His eyes met Breda’s staying steady, although the slight movement of his arm told Havoc that he was holding Hawkeye’s hand under the table. “If someone had the information that’s still on Hawkeye’s back, had access to some of the rare books here, and had the time to study it, then they might be able to figure out flame alchemy. However, there would have to be a lot of things come together for someone to understand what I left.”

Breda nodded. “Alright.” His eyes returned to Hawkeye. “The burns. Do they cause you any physical problems?”

Havoc shifted his eyes to Hawkeye. “They can get tight,” she said, “And painful. I have a special lotion I rub into them, but it’s hard to do it myself. The scars are hard to reach due to their positioning. Roy helps me with it sometimes, and occasionally someone else that knows about it does as well.” She paused. “The deepest parts of the burns, near the center, don’t have any feeling. It’s never been a problem before, but it is something to note. And there is a small amount of contracture that happened when the burns healed. I’m slightly less flexible on my left side then I am on my right, although it’s never caused me any real problems.”

Breda nodded. “Alright. One more question. You said that there were others who know. Who? And are they trustworthy?”

“Yes,” Hawkeye said, and there was no hesitation in her voice. “Rebecca Catalina knows,” she said. Havoc found himself surprised, although he supposed that he shouldn’t have been. “She and I were roommates and the academy. She found out then and kept it a secret for me. Maes Hughes knew. He found out on the battlefield. Roy’s aunt knows. She found out when Roy burned me and helped to care for me while I was healing. Dr. Knox knows as well. He helped to provide care after the burning as well as a few times in Ishval.”

They were grisly answers, at least to Havoc’s mind, but Breda just nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Hawkeye.” He paused. “You… will tell Catalina that we know, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Of course. If I didn’t, and she found out that you knew, she’d be likely to shoot you first and ask questions later.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. “Well,” Havoc said, “you’ve got four more people to watch your back now—pun not intended,” he added at Breda’s dirty look. “Anything that we need to know about what we can do for you?”

Hawkeye gave him a grateful smile and paused, turning it over in her mind. “If I’m desperate, I might ask one of you to help put the lotion on my scars. But for the most part, just make sure that my back stays covered up. I don’t want to show this off, I don’t want to hint at it. The few times someone’s managed to catch a glimpse, I’ve been able to brush it off as scars from the war that I don’t want to talk about, but I’d rather not rely on that too much. I don’t want anyone to think there’s anything on my back. So, if something happens to my shirt, please just make sure that my back stays covered.”

She looked around at all of them, and they nodded. Havoc couldn’t speak for the others, but he’d literally take the shirt off of his back for her. The questioning wasn’t over, though, and Havoc could see it in Breda’s face. He braced himself for more questions that he really wished didn’t have to be asked.

“Another pressing question. How did you end up in the basement?” Breda asked.

They all stilled at that question, looking over at Hawkeye, who had her brow furrowed. “I’ll be honest. The panic that followed afterwards has dulled a lot of the memory. What I told you yesterday is still what I remember. I heard something and wondered if it was Havoc or Hayate. The basement door was open, and I went to close it and I was pushed. I tried to get out, but I couldn’t. I tried pushing on the door, and then I went down into the basement to try to find something to help me, but I was already starting to panic by then.” Her brow furrowed as she thought. “I remember that I didn’t see anything that could, but after that everything turns into a haze of panic and distress and memories.” There was a slight note of something in her voice, and Havoc saw Mustang’s other hand come over to hold hers, to provide some stability.

Hawkeye took a couple of breaths, trying to regain control, and Havoc wished there was something that he could do. After a few moments, she looked back up at them, her eyes serious. “This could be wrong, and just my panic playing tricks on me, but… I almost feel like there was someone down there with me. I can’t tell you who it was, or even if it was real, but it might be relevant.”

“Yeah, it might be,” Breda said. He glanced at Falman. “Falman and I went back to look at the lock after you had calmed. Mustang had taken it out of the door and wall with alchemy. The whole mechanism as out and we could see it clearly. It was locked from both sides.”

“Both sides?” Hawkeye said, shocked.

“That explains why I couldn’t get it open,” Mustang said, although his grip tightened on Hawkeye’s hand

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Hawkeye said. “I wouldn’t have locked myself in there, and there’s no other way in or out of the basement.”

Breda leaned forward. “Are you sure, Hawkeye?” he asked. “We got to thinking about it, and there is no outer entrance to your basement. Given the age of the house, there should be.”

“Actually,” Falman said. “Given the era I think that this house was built in, as well as its size and clearly former stateliness, there should not only have been an outer entrance to your basement, but also a fireplace to help funnel heat up and into the rest of the house. I did some looking around, and I think the possibility of it once having been there exists.”

Both Hawkeye and Mustang blinked at Falman in surprise. Then, abruptly, Hawkeye stood up. “Come with me,” she said and, although it was directed at Falman, Havoc found himself curious enough to follow.

He wasn’t the only one, and then all followed her up the backstairs and to the attic. She only stopped to grab a lamp so that they would be able to see. Once there she handed the lamp off to Fuery and began rummaging through things.

“What are you looking for?” Havoc asked her.

“The last time we were up here, do you remember a large cache of papers and documents? Some were in document tubes. We had to look through them for alchemy notes.”

Havoc blinked. “Yeah, I do. I think…” he moved to help her. “I think we put them somewhere over here.”

She nodded, and they started rummaging through things. Finally, after a moment, she came up with a portfolio that had what seemed to be photographs, papers, and other things stuffed into it, as well as a couple of document tubes.

“This,” she said, “is a collection of items about the house. I don’t know if there are any blueprints in here, but titles, deeds, work orders, photographs, and paintings exist in all of this. Apparently, before my father, if not before my grandfather, the Hawkeyes were fairly conscientious about money. I never had any reason to look at these before, but now maybe…”

Falman looked eager to get his hands on the documents “Can we take them downstairs?” he asked. “There’s more room down there. We can go over them down there and see what we can learn.”

“Of course,” Hawkeye said, and Falman reached and took some of the load from her.

“So if there is an entrance down there, how come we never saw it?” Fuery asked, holding the lamp he had been given up so everyone could see.

“It could have been sealed up a long time ago,” Falman offered.

“But then how come we haven’t seen any recent signs of it?” he pressed.

Mustang was rubbing his chin. “I want to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb.” He looked over at Hawkeye. “I also want to start a watch. We’ll start standing guard at night to see if anything happens. Fuery,”

“Yes sir?” Fuery asked.

“Get that phone connected. I want a line of communication open and available, just in case.” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir!” Fuery said.

Mustang glanced at the rest of the men. “As for us—try not to go anywhere alone. Make sure that someone knows where you’re going to be at all times.” He looked at Falman. “Either take someone with you when you go out to do your observations, or make sure someone knows exactly where you’re going to be and when you plan to be back.” He looked at Havoc and Hawkeye. “Make sure that you two are careful when you go out to hunt.” He focused in on Hawkeye. “We don’t know if this was a targeted attack, or if Hawkeye just happened to be in the way, but I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to act as if there’s the chance of an enemy in our midst. I want you all to be careful. Do you understand me?”

There was a collective straightening and saluting, followed by heels snapping together. “Sir!” they all responded.

Havoc knew that he, for one, was going to be watching over Hawkeye carefully.

Orders given, Falman and Hawkeye poured over the items in what they had brought down from the attic, searching for any indication of an outer door to the basement, that the basement had once been bigger, or that there had been a fireplace in the basement at one point. Fuery immediately started the inside work that would be needed for the phone, while Mustang, Breda, and Havoc went down into the basement to start searching.

Havoc was not happy to be back in that basement. Unlike the first time, when Mustang had been squirrelly about him being down there, he instead let him look over anything without complaint. Havoc knew the story of it now, and it made him uncomfortable. He looked at the table, not able to see it or the rings in it the same way now. Knowing that a teenaged Hawkeye had been drugged and strapped down to that table by her father, and then tattooed for hours on end—and it had to have been hours, looking at that tattoo. That was not a one session thing. That took many sessions and lots of hours—it made him feel a little sick. He glanced at Breda, who was looking at the table in a similar way, his jaw set into a grim line.

Still, Mustang was managing to focus in and get to work down here, which couldn’t have been easy for the man, considering the woman he loved had been essentially tortured and branded in this basement. So, if he could do that, then Havoc would manage for Hawkeye as well—Even if he was disgusted by the idea of everything that happened down here and wanted to burn it all down.

“So, what are we looking for, Boss?” Havoc asked, forcing the question out of his mouth.

Mustang didn’t bother to look at him, examining the room instead. “Any signs of alchemy. That’s the only way I can think that someone would have gotten in and out of here so quickly and without leaving any signs. Either that, or there’s a hidden door, but I don’t think that’s as likely.”

Havoc noted, he didn’t say that it was impossible. “Got it. Although it’s going to be hard considering all the alchemy you did down here last time while we were looking for that research.”

Breda glanced at him, startled, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” Mustang said. “But we’ve got to try. Look to see if there’s disrupted patterns to the alchemic marks that were left behind. That might indicate newer alchemy.

“Got it.”

They fell quiet, each man looking over and examining the walls. Havoc honestly wasn’t sure how they would have missed anything as big as a false wall or a hidden door last time, considering the way that Mustang had gone over the walls, but something had happened down here. They had to look.

After a few minutes of silence, Mustang spoke up.

“So… you know Hawkeye’s secret now.” He didn’t even glance at them. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to regret that her father’s not alive so I can punch him in the face,” Breda said rather bluntly. Not that Havoc could blame him. He’d like to punch her father too.

“Since I can’t do that, I suppose I’ll do what I can to support Hawkeye,” Havoc said. “It answered some questions about why she’s so careful about her back and all. I just thought it was some weird modestly thing, but now I get it.” He wished it was just some weird modesty thing, honestly.

“…What would someone do?” Breda asked. “If they found out, I mean. Could they really gain any knowledge from it?”

Mustang paused in his examination. “About flame alchemy itself? No, not without it being intact, not easily. A skilled alchemist could probably figure a great deal of it out. I have no doubt that the Elrics could, if they wanted to, for example. But not every alchemist could get enough information off of it. It’s not slight against his intelligence, but I don’t think that Armstrong could, or even Marcoh. It’s… complicated. Complex. It’s not something easily arrived at, or even easily grasped. For Master Hawkeye to have developed it at all…” Mustang shook his head. “It’s truly amazing. Unfortunately, it’s only in retrospect that I understood why he was so against me having it if I was going to be in the military.”

“What was he like?” Havoc asked. “Her father, I mean.”

Mustang frowned and crouched to look at a spot on the wall. “He was taller than she is, with slightly darker hair that hung in his face. He had a hooked nose, and cold, cold eyes. He was pale from being inside all the time. And he was exacting. Demanding. If you didn’t meet his standards, he was ready to get rid of you. He had little use for people that didn’t meet his standards.”

He paused. “He was a cold man as well. Praise from him was hard-won, and he was not a patient man. The only thing he cared about was alchemy, and there were days where he would focus on nothing else, writing and researching in a mad frenzy.”

He looked up at them from where he had crouched. “If you’re asking how he treated Riza when she was young, harshly is putting it lightly. He never cared when she came with bruises or cuts. He never helped her with her work. He expected that she keep the house in good order and have food ready to go. He expected that she would get high marks in school. Once, when she came home with mediocre marks, he hit her face hard enough to bruise, called her stupid, and told her that if she was going to be too stupid to do alchemy, then she should at least be smart enough to do well with the lesser knowledge they were teaching her in school. She worked herself even harder after that to try to bring her grades up. They came up, but he never praised her, never acknowledged her. The most he did was not hit her.”

Breda cursed under his breath, and Havoc shook his head. “Roy…” he said slowly, falling back on informality, “when we were here last time, you sent Ri out of the upstairs study, and then you burned a piece of paper. You said that there was nothing good to be found there. What was on that piece of paper?”

Mustang’s tensed, his face hardened, and his jaw worked, but after a moment, he finally spoke. “It was a formula,” he said, “for human transmutation. But it used another soul to pay the toll to bring someone back. And it was designed to use a child.”

Havoc’s blood ran cold and Breda dropped what he was doing.

“Wait a minute,” Breda said. “Are you saying—are you saying that her father—”

Mustang’s jaw clenched. “I am. He had a formula worked out for how he would sacrifice his own daughter’s life, her soul, to bring back his wife.”

Both Breda and Havoc looked at Mustang, horror on their faces. Havoc knew what it meant to do a human transmutation. They all knew the costs and the consequences. It was horrible enough on its own. But to use a living person as the toll for someone else’s life, and for that someone to be his own daughter? It was unthinkable.

Breda cursed aloud this time, and Havoc felt his stomach turn. He might just go out the barn after this and smoke, just because he didn’t know how else to react to this information.

“Does she know?” he finally asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No. Or if she does, she’s never said anything. But I refuse to be the one to tell her. For all of the awful things he did, he was still her father, and she was still loyal to him. She still wanted his love, and there’s a part of her that still wishes she had had it, even though she knows what a terrible person he was. I’m not going to destroy the last hope she has by showing her something that proves how worthless she was to him. I can’t do that to her.”

Havoc wished he had something to stick in his mouth. A toothpick, a piece of hay, anything. “Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”

“We won’t say a word,” Breda said.

Mustang just nodded, and they got back to work. But Havoc, for all of his shock, could see the weariness in Mustang’s movements, and the outright anger in Breda’s. He himself was angry, but it was overridden by a deep sorrow. How lonely must little Hawkeye’s life had been, with a father that thought of her as little more then something to be used?

Havoc didn’t have any kids of his own, but he had plenty of nieces and nephews. He loved every single one of them and he’d do anything to protect them. He’d give up his legs again to protect them. He’d have protected them from his wheelchair, if the need had arisen! And they were just his nieces and nephews. An important relationship to be sure, but not as important as parent and child. He couldn’t imagine doing anything to hurt them. How could Hawkeye’s father have been so cruel as to treat his own daughter as a consumable? How could he have only seen her as something to use?

Underneath her hard exterior, Hawkeye had a gentle heart. It was soft, and forgiving, and full of care and love. He could imagine a little Hawkeye with shinning eyes and a big smile running up to her father with all the love in the world for him. With gifts and trinkets and all of the things that kids do. What would she have been like, if he had just loved her in return? If that gentle heart of hers had been allowed to bloom and grow? If it hadn’t been stomped on by her father, by other people, by Ishval? Where would her steely resolve, compassion, and gentle heart have taken her?

How? How could her father have done all of this to her?

Havoc had to get his mind off of all of this, or he’d end up marching straight up the stairs and hugging Hawkeye right now. She wouldn’t like it. She wasn’t normally too opposed to hugs, and he had a bit of a pass, being a pretty close friend and all, but she’d know that this one came from the knowledge of her childhood, and she’d take it as more of an insult then as compassion. She didn’t want to be pitied, and he couldn’t blame her for that. Not when it was obvious that she fought so hard to survive and to make her own path in the world. He wouldn’t take that away from her.

So, instead of going upstairs to make Hawkeye feel upset with him, and with herself, he turned his attention back to the task at hand—namely, looking for any signs of either a hidden door, or of alchemy that would indicate that someone had been through here recently. So far, he wasn’t having any luck, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something that they had overlooked last time.

He knew the signs of alchemy. He’d been alchemist adjacent for so long that by now he ought to have learned something of it. It didn’t mean that he always caught things, or that there weren’t things he just didn’t know to look for, but he wasn’t incompetent. However, he knew that it would honestly be best if Mustang went over the area with a more critical gaze after he finished. He and Breda knew that was what they were here for anyway. They were the first level of search. Mustang would be the next level. It only made sense.

It did make him wonder, though, that, if Hawkeye could stand it down here, if it wouldn’t be better fpr her to help search. She had an above average amount of knowledge. He’d seen her correct the Elrics on simple mistakes before, or act as an intelligent sounding board for them. She had plenty of alchemic knowledge of her own. It all begged another question.

“Say—why isn’t Riza an alchemist?” he asked, still working as he did. “She’s got a good knowledge base for it, right?”

He didn’t turn around or stop, and it sounded like neither of the others did either. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were trying to get through as quickly as possible, or because they were all avoiding emotions.

“She’s got a knowledge base that is well above average,” Mustang said. “She can follow the basics of a lot of high-level alchemy, sometimes more. But except what I taught her, none of that was taught to her. It’s what she’s picked up here and there along the way. It got a lot of gaps and holes in the practical application of it.”

“Yeah, but why?” Havoc pressed. “If all her father cared about was alchemy, I’d think that she’d want to become an alchemist, or that he’d have taught her.”

Mustang was quiet for a moment. “She did,” he said. “I saw her reading alchemy books when she was a child. But it was always in secret and she never, ever, tried. When I asked her why, once, she just shook her head and said that she didn’t have a mind for it.”

There was silence for a moment.

“That’s bullcrap,” Breda said. “Hawkeye is one of the smartest people I know. She could learn it if she wanted too.”

Mustang sighed. “From what I understand, her father did try to teach it to her, once. She was too young to understand most of the concepts, and, when he pushed her to try, she failed. Master Hawkeye wasn’t always very good at explaining things either, especially not when he thought that you should already know or understand something, if its something that, to him, seems simple.” He paused again. “…She won’t talk about it much,” he said quietly, “But I picked up on the idea that when she couldn’t get it, he grew frustrated and beat her.”

Now Havoc did look over at Mustang, and he noticed Breda did too. Mustang was looking back at them. He looked angry, but like it was an old anger that was there, one that he had long ago had to learn to live with.

“How old was she?” Breda asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No more than five or six.”

Havoc sucked in a breath and was suddenly glad that he didn’t have anything between his lips, because he would have inhaled it. Five or six. That was the same age as his niece Libby. Sweet Libby with the braid and the million-watt smile, who loved to hug him around his neck and bring him flowers and play adventures in the tall grass. If her dad every tried to beat her (which he wouldn’t, he was a good man), Havoc would kill him in a heartbeat if it meant saving her. To imagine something like that happening to Hawkeye at the same age filled him with a horrifying sinking feeling.

Breda cursed again, and Mustang turned back to his work.

“It left a lasting impression on her, one I don’t even think she realizes is there, or doesn’t care enough to bother with. I’ve tried to teach her alchemy before, over the years. She has enough knowledge of theory that she could easily do simple transmutations. But there’s a mental block there. No matter what I’ve tried, she can’t do the practical application of it. And I don’t think she really wants to. She’ll try, because I ask her to, but after that? She doesn’t care to. I honestly think she could have been a decent alchemist if it wasn’t for that mental block that was left from her father’s one and only attempt to teach her.”

Breda shook his head again. “That’s… I don’t even have the words for it.” He looked back up towards the ceiling, and then over at the table before quickly looking away from it. “How has she managed to function as well as she does?”

Mustang let out a sigh. “I don’t know. But I do know that what happened to her in her childhood, those experiences allowed her to survive being under Selim’s observation and not able to have a moment to herself.”

“Yeah, but she was so thin by the end of it, and her body exhausted,” Havoc said.

“I know,” Mustang said. “You should have seen her when we first met. She was a thin thing. I always assumed it was because of the lack of food, and the way that she always made sure to give bigger portions to her father and to me than she did to herself. But now I wonder if it also wasn’t the stress of living under her father.”

Havoc shifted uncomfortably. This dive into Hawkeye’s childhood was uncomfortable at the least. It revealed a lot about her, and it explained a lot about her too. But it also felt like prying, and he could see Breda shifting a bit uncomfortably too. The silence stretched on for a while longer, until Mustang let out another sigh.

“Come on. Let’s keep working.”

They worked without finding anything until Falman called down to let them know that supper was ready. They hadn’t quite finished, but they came up anyway, Havoc just then realizing how hungry he was. Hawkeye and Falman still had photographs and paintings spread all over the dining room table, but the kitchen table was free and the other three were in there. Fuery was stirring some pots, and Falman was setting out the plates and cutlery. Riza was tasting something and adding a little more spice to it.

“What’s this?” Mustang said, a bit of teasing in his voice. “And here I thought we were all busy working.”

“We were, sir,” Fuery said, “But I’ve done all the work I can from the inside. I thought I would start dinner.”

“And to be honest, I needed a break,” Hawkeye said. “I didn’t mind helping Kain out.”

Truth be told, Havoc thought that she still did look a little tired, and he couldn’t blame her much for that. Honestly, he was still amazed that she was managing as well as she was—and that she had managed as well as she did the first time they came here. If he had had a past like hers, he would have been more likely to burn the place down then to ever return to it. Something good must have come at some point, though, enough to override the bad. Otherwise, he doubted that she would be here and working as well as she was.

Of course, she had support her with her now. That had to make a difference. She certainly hadn’t had support as a child, and then only Mustang for support when she was a bit older, until he had left. It had to have been hard. Now, though, she had the five of them, plus Hayate. Hopefully it made a difference to her. Still, if she was tired, he found it completely understandable.

Over dinner, the group discussed what they had discovered so far. It was a strike out on all fronts. The only one who had any luck had been Fuery, and that was because he wasn’t searching for anything, just setting up a phone. They returned to their respective tasks after supper, Fuery offering to clean up, but no one had any luck then, either.

However, at lights out, one thing was agreed upon. They needed to set up watches. None of them, Havoc knew, had gotten this far by not being at least a little paranoid—and they had plenty to be paranoid about right now. Alarms and traps were set, and one at a time they took turns taking watch. Havoc roamed the house on his, Hayate accompanying him. It actually worked out well for him, Havoc found, as the walking helped the ache in his legs. Downstairs he could walk as much as he wanted to. Nothing happened on his watch, and after he woke up to walk Falman for his turn, Havoc fell into bed and slept well.

When morning dawned, Havoc was, as usual one of the first ones up. Hawkeye was already awake, but instead of working on breakfast, she was standing in the dinning room, frowning over the document and pictures.

“Mornin’,” Havoc greeted, but frowned at her frown. “What are you looking at?”

“The documents,” she said. “I think they’ve been moved.”

Havoc’s head snapped towards hers. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” she said. “Well need Falman to be able to tell us for sure.”

“Tell us what?” Fuery asked, coming into the dining room with them.

“Hawk thinks some of the documents were disturbed,” Havoc said.

All of the sleep in Fuery was gone at that statement. “What?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “Let’s get breakfast started. When Falman wakes up, we’ll ask him to take a look. It isn’t likely that whoever bothered these is still here this morning.”

“Right,” Havoc said, but his frown didn’t leave. Hawkeye wasn’t typically wrong about things like this. Someone or something had been down here, and Havoc doubted that it was Hayate or rats messing with the documents.

Hawkeye was tense as they prepared breakfast. She seemed especially uncomfortable with the confirmation that someone had been in the house, and Havoc found it understandable. So much of herself had already been revealed to them, even without her permission. He didn’t blame her at all for being a little squirrelly about this situation.

When Falman came down the stairs, he was immediately directed towards the dining room where he confirmed that yes, the documents had been disturbed and, even more concerning, that there were items missing. Breda and Mustang came down the stairs just a moment later, and Havoc could hear Hawkeye telling them what they had found. Mustang ordered them all to eat a quick breakfast, and then start a thorough sweep of the house—with the exception of Falman, who’s job it was to determine what in the documents was missing.

There was no dallying at the breakfast table this morning, and the sweep began with thirty minutes of them all being awake. It was a slow, thorough sweep, starting on the first level and working their way up. Nothing was left unturned or untested. Furniture, rugs, walls, they examined all of them.

Which, honestly, brought Havoc to a question.

“Hey, boss—we looked through every nook and cranny of this place the last time we were here. Don’t you think we’d have found something by now if something was hidden or locked or whatever?”

The last time they were here, Mustang had looked into the walls and the floors to see if they contained any hidden research. They had, of course, turned up blind, with nothing to show, but it was what they had done. If there had been any hidden passages to find, wouldn’t they have found them then?

“If it was added after we left, or was something cleverly hidden, I may not have noticed it,” Mustang said. “I wasn’t focused on looking for secret doors after all. I was focused on any notes her that her father might have left behind.”

“Right,” Havoc said. “Still, if there were something up here, I would have thought that we would have found at least a trace of it.”

Mustang frowned. “Yeah. Me too.”

The search continued with very little found. There were no overt signs of an intruder, although there were little things that none of them had thought about before, like bottles being moved or curtains being opened, that none of them had done, but had happened all the same. All signs pointed to someone being in the house.

The intruder didn’t appear to have been on the second floor or the attic yet, and Mustang made sure that the backstairs to both would be impassible for the time being. It would give them only one way up the stairs to guard, which was useful. Of course, the possibility of alchemy being used to take down what he put up was a consideration, and Hawkeye and Fuery rigged several traps that, quite frankly, Havoc was certain he didn’t want to mess with.

By the time dinner came around that night, they were all tired, but still determined. They resolved to leave nothing downstairs, and then started swapping stories of anything odd or unusual that they had encountered over their stay here. Some, of course, were immediately discounted when someone admitted to moving or doing something themselves. Havoc recalled some odd things that he had seen in the barn that he had attributed to the horses or to other animals escaping from the rains, and Falman reported on a few odd things he had seen outside. By themselves, and without suspicion, they really wouldn’t have been things to worry about. But Mustang’s team was good with suspicion, Havoc knew, as it had saved their own lives more than once, and the lives of the country, too.

And still the rain fell outside.

They all went to bed on high alert, ready to snap awake and to action at the slightest provocation. The days of pouring rain and tense moments felt like they were building up to something to Havoc, although he had no idea what they were building up to. All he knew was that it felt like everything was building up to something big, and something important.

The next few days were met with little change. With the thunder and the rain, there wasn’t much else they could do. Fuery said it was too dangerous to try to hook up the phone in a lightning storm. He was just as likely to get hit and killed then he was to get the phone hooked up, and no one wanted that. Falman still went out and made his observations, checking the garden and the orchard for food. Breda and Mustang resupplied their wood pile and secured the grounds as best they could. Havoc and Hawkeye went out hunting, bringing back what kill they could to sustain them throughout these long and tense days.

The unchanging days, however, provide some opportunities for conversations, whether they were conversations that either party wanted to have or not. Havoc, usually moving about the house to try and help his aching legs, overheard a number of these.

The first one he overheard was between Hawkeye and Breda. They were still taking care of the bulk of the laundry, and Havoc overheard them talking when he was passing through the kitchen one day.

“—not trying to be insensitive, Riza, but I do have a few questions for you.”

Riza sighed. “Go ahead, Heymans. I figured someone would. I should have expected this.”

Havoc could hear the sounds of them continuing to work on the washing while they talked.

“You told us about who had seen your tattoo,” Breda said. “But were there any others?”

Hawkeye sounded a bit confused when she answered. “No. I told you the entire list.”

“That’s it?” Breda pressed. “What about… well… boyfriends and the like?”

There was a beat of silence. “Heymans, there were no boyfriends. When I was living at home, I didn’t dare bring a boy home, even if there was one that would have braved my father’s wrath. My father was a frightening man, and for good reason. And when I joined the academy, boys were the last thing on my mind. It may have been the military, but it was my first taste of freedom and I didn’t want to be tied down by anything or anyone.”

“Right,” Heymans said, and although the answer might have sounded trite to some, Havoc knew better. It was simply him acknowledging her words. “I know that Mustang said that there wasn’t likely to be any alchemist who could learn Flame Alchemy off of your tattoo now, but could they learn anything else?”

Another pause. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “It’s hard to see my back, and I’m no alchemist. But I think that there are still some basic principles that could be gained from it.” She paused. “I wanted the whole thing gone, but he refused. He was probably right, in the end, but I wanted to be freed from this burden all together.”

“Yeah,” Breda said, and there was a note of understanding in his voice. “Alright, you mentioned that there was some contracture. How much and does it impact anything?”

Havoc heard the sound of something being put down, and someone standing up. And then, after a moment, Hawkeye’s voice. “Not much. As you can see, I can reach a little bit further with my right arm then my left arm, but t’s not enough to truly impact anything. So far, the only thing it’s impacted has been a few moments in training, and I compensated for those. I don’t think anyone even noticed.”

“I didn’t,” Breda admitted. “Okay, any other ailments or problems that stem from that tattoo?”

Hawkeye was quiet for a moment, and Havoc could hear her sitting back down and picking up her washing again. “Well, most of the time it isn’t a problem, but if I don’t have my head about me, then it can be. I’m not fond of needles,” she said, and Havoc winced. Yeah, he bet she wasn’t, and he could hear the awkward shifting of Breda as he likely came to the same realization as Havoc. Hawkeye kept going. “If I have my head about me, it’s about a 60/40 chance that the needle is going to bother me. Me reacting to it is an even bigger difference. But if I have some sort of addling or I’ve been unconscious, then do tend to react poorly to needles in general.”

“Yeah… that makes sense,” Breda said, although it was clear to Havoc he was a little disturbed by the notion.

“It does,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard it at all.  “I also have a problem with being held down sometimes. Even with someone I trust, it’s a struggle for me to let most people hold me down. I tend to want to panic and get away from that person or whoever is holding me in place.” She paused. “… Father used ropes, for when I was being unruly, and the idea of being in that position again just does not sit well with me.”

There was a little strain in Breda’s voice when he spoke again, and he had to clear his throat. “Yeah… Yeah that makes sense,” he repeated. “Okay— okay I think that answers most of the questions that I have now. I’m sure there will be more along the way, but for now I have what I came after.”

“If you have any more, ask me, but please just give me a heads up and a few moments first,” Hawkeye requested. “It’s a difficult topic.”

“Of course,” Breda said, and that seemed to be the end of that. Havoc stole away quietly, not wanting to let either of them know he had overheard the conversation.

Of course, that wasn’t the only conversation that Havoc heard between Hawkeye and other members of the team. He happened to be nearby when Hawkeye and Fuery were working in the kitchen, and small talk turned to something more serious.

“You sure are a good cook, Captain!” Fuery said.

Hawkeye laughed. “You don’t have to be formal, Kain. And thank you. I try to make stuff last and use as much of it as possible.”

There was a beat of silence and then “… you know if you ever wanted to talk about it…”

Havoc could almost hear that smile of Hawkeye’s. “Thank you, Kain. I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Fuery replied. “Anytime, s—Riza.”

For a moment they were both silent and then Riza spoke up. “I made a lot of meals on this stove,” she said.

“Yeah?” Fuery said, encouraging her to go on without interrupting her.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye said. “After mother died, father hardly ever came out. I remember that much. I think he would just fix whatever he could find. But as I got older, I learned to cook and started making the meals. After that, the only time father ever cooked anything that I remember, was when I was healing from the tattoo. He would do it in stages, and while I was healing, he would bring me food, water, whatever I needed.”

Fuery was silent, and Hawkeye sighed. “For a little bit, I was able to convince myself that it was love, that he loved me, but in the end it wasn’t. It was just a desire to see his work completed.” She looked down at the pot she was stirring and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder…. If mother had lived, and if father had died…. What would be different?”

Fuery was silent as Hawkeye seemed to turn that over in her mind for a moment, and then shook herself out of it. She moved, almost just to be doing something, and started attending to one of the other pots on the stove.

“The past is the past, though,” she said, “and I can’t change anything about it.” She turned her head to look at Fuery again and Havoc could see her give him a smile that didn’t quite seem to be real. It was a smile of “this is how it is” and not one of happiness, which, personally, Havoc found sad.

Fuery cleared his throat, not entirely sure what to say to that. He put a hand on her shoulder for a moment, and then softly redirected the conversation. “So, um, you learned how to cook when you were young. Did you learn from books or did someone teach you?”

She tilted her head back, thinking. “Well, in a way, both. I remembered things that my mother taught me. I don’t remember her teaching them to me, just thinking ‘this is the way Mama did it’ so I had that to pull on. I also was pretty good at reading from a young age, so I would read books and try my best to understand them. Once I started school, there were some classes there that helped as well. And as I got older, I experimented more.”

“Yeah?” Fuery asked, curious.

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes. We didn’t often have much, so I learned how to make things stretch. I knew a lot of the wild plants that were edible, or that would be once you prepared them, and I learned how to grow a garden. I would hunt, too, and trade my kill for supplies. I managed to trade or sell enough off to get a goat and some chickens, so we at least had milk and eggs, if nothing else.”

“Sounds like you made it, even if you had it pretty hard at time,” Fuery said.

“I suppose so,” Hawkeye commented. “It was certainly a very interesting childhood. I wouldn’t recommend most of it to anyone.”

“Well, regardless, sir, I am glad that I got to know you now,” Fuery said.

This time the smile that she returned seemed truer. “I’m glad, too,” she said. “For being able to meet all of you.”

Havoc somehow felt that statement was more than a little true and kept it to himself for the time being.

He was in the living room, reading a book, when he overheard a conversation she had with Falman. They were in the dining room, looking over the pictures and documents.

“Sir, I hate to ask, but… You spent a lot of time outdoors, correct?” Falman’s voice was his typical straight voice, but there was a note in it that seemed to indicate that he knew he was going to tread on sensitive ground.

“I did,” Hawkeye confirmed. “That’s why I know the grounds so well.”

“Of course,” Falman said. “Well, I just… was it because of your father?” the question almost seemed to blurt out of his mouth, and he looked like he wanted to immediately take it back.

Hawkeye sighed and leaned against the table. “Mostly, yes,” she said. “I liked to stay outside because it meant that I wasn’t in father’s reach. He wasn’t close enough to lash out at me. But at the same time, if I was gone for too long, he wouldn’t be happy about that either.” She frowned. “It was a balance, and one that was difficult to achieve.”

Falman had stopped looking at the papers on the table and was looking at her instead. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Riza fell silent, and just stood there breathing for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “I learned to read his moods, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that,” she said. “He didn’t typically actively seek me out. But if he was angry with me for something, it was best not be around. Or if he had just come out of a research bender. Sometimes it was like he was half crazy then.” Her words almost sounded haunted, and there was a strange look in her eyes that looked like it made Falman uncomfortable. Not that Havoc could blame him, the whole thing was uncomfortable.

“I see,” he said. He looked back at the pictures. “Then I guess that if this entrance does exist, if has to be extremely well hidden.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “If it wasn’t, believe me, I would have used it to escape many things.”

The statement was haunting, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to think too hard on it. Havoc didn’t want to think too hard on it. They turned back to scouring through the papers and pictures and Havoc left them to it.

Of course, Havoc had his own conversation with her. It was bound to happen. His conversation with her happened when he was up on watch one night. He stood at the end of the hall upstairs, looking out the window at the dark and pouring rain beyond. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned to see who it was. Hawkeye padded towards him, her feet bare and a robe wrapped around her. She joined him at the window.

“Can’t sleep?” he said.

Hawkeye shook her head. “No,” she said.

He nodded and took a drag off his cigarette. Hawkeye looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you were getting off of those things,” she said.

“Yeah, well, after the last couple of days, I kinda needed it,” he said. She hummed. There really wasn’t much arguing about that. They were quiet for a few moments, and then Havoc spoke. “He beat you, didn’t he?” he said. “Sometimes he beat you. That’s why you knew how to get to that place on the roof. That’s why you went up there a lot as a child. And it’s why you can read people so well and you get angry at injustice, especially with children.”

Hawkeye had stiffened up, but she didn’t move from where she was. Finally, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet.

He had suspected as much for a while. “How often?” he asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. “They weren’t predictable, not exactly. When he came off a research bender, he was much more likely to be reactionary and hit me for small things. If I wasn’t keeping up with my chores or grades, then he was likely to hit me as well. Most of the time when he hit me, it wasn’t a full beating, just a strike because I’d done something like bother him or didn’t have something ready in time.”

“He called you names, too, didn’t he?” Havoc asked.

Again, Hawkeye stiffly nodded, and Havoc let her speak at her own pace. “Worthless girl was his favorite. So was useless. Part of me wanted to run away, but I was too afraid, I didn’t think I’d be able to survive on my own, and, well… he was still my father. I still wanted his love.”

“Sure,” Havoc said, still puffing on his cigarette. He sighed. “Honestly, Ri, do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

Hawkeye blinked up at him. “What?” she asked, clearly a bit startled.

“I have nieces, you know? Nieces and nephews and I think about some of them. I think about little Libby who loves with her whole heart and has so much fun bringing gifts and playing adventures in the tall grass. She loved climbing all over me and my chair, and I was her knight and her horse in these games. She has such a bright smile and such a gentle heart. And then I think about how your father hurt you, and I just—she’s not even my child, and I can’t imagine hurting her. In fact, if anyone was hurting her, I’d be more likely to kill them. Before or after the chair.”

His frown deepened. “And then I think about my cousin, Ellie, who honestly was more like a little sister to me. She’s 15 and smart as a whip with a sharp tongue to boot. But she’s kind, and eager to please. And I think about what your father did to you, and I just can’t imagine it.”

He reached out then, not able to help it, and hugged her. “Stars, Riza, I’m so sorry that it happened to you. It shouldn’t have. There should have been something or someone to stop it and I just—It had to hurt. It hurt, didn’t it? The tattooing, I mean.”

She was stiff with surprise in his arms for a moment, and then, slowly she relaxed a bit. She was quiet, and then, slowly, her arms curled to hug him back. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “…It did,” she said. “It hurt so much. The painkiller he gave me, my body got used to it, and it stopped being effective. Its why painkillers don’t often work on me. I’ve built up a tolerance. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop, Jean. He just… he kept going and just tied me down so that I wouldn’t move and destroy his work. And it hurt even worse when I finally admitted that he didn’t love me, just his work, and that I was nothing more then a means to an end for him. I—”

Her breath caught, and she let out a shaky sigh. He let her stay there as she fought to regain her composure.

“I can’t imagine it,” he said. “I can’t even begin to imagine all that you’ve been through. I wish that there was something that I could do about it, but there isn’t. But if you need anything—Riza, you know I’m here.”

She nodded and, after a moment, she slowly pulled back. She wiped at her eyes, and they both fell quiet staring out the window for a moment before she murmured a good night and headed back to her room that she was sharing with Mustang.

Havoc had to pass the room they were in on the way back to his own, and in it he could hear them talking. It sounded like Hawkeye was crying, and a bit of guilt stabbed at his heart at the thought that he had made her cry. But then he heard her words.

“—acknowledged my pain. Told me he was sorry that I had been through it, that it wasn’t right for father to have done that to me.”

“But Riza, you know that,” Mustang was saying. “You’ve known it for years.”

“I know,” she said. “But there’s something different in knowing it, and hearing someone who’s outside of the situation say it. Besides… it was different. It was like he was acknowledging ME. Not what happen to me, or that I was a kid and it wasn’t fair, but me, myself and—I don’t know. That means a lot to me.”

He heard a rustling sound, and figured that Mustang was gathering Hawkeye into his arms, or however the books always phrased it. He heard the sound of a kiss, and figured that Mustang was placing one on her head.

“Well, if it made you feel better, then I’m glad for it,” Mustang said. “You deserve so much better, Riza. I wish I could give you the world.”

The words sounded rehearsed, as if they had said them a million times.

“You know I don’t want that,” she said. “But I do want to be by your side through this world.”

It also sounded rehearsed, but neither sounded like something one of them would give out for a play or anything. No, it sounded more like something that two people have said to each other over and over again. It sounded like a way of saying “I love you.”

Havoc stole away then, to his room. His shift was over, and he was going to wake up Breda for his own.

And then he was going to enjoy having an entire bed to himself for a while, because he missed that.

More days passed, still with pouring rain. The thunder let up, though, and Fuery, who had not been about to go rig up anything in the middle of a thunderstorm, felt safer about going out in just the rain. Normally the Master Sergeant wouldn’t have done anything in this weather, but it was what it was, and there really wasn’t any other choice. Havoc could respect that, even if he was questioning the wisdom of it.

Falman, meanwhile, had reconstructed some of the missing work. From what he was able to piece together from both memory and the remaining documents, he was constructing a blueprint of the house to see if there had, indeed, once been more to the basement they there currently seemed to be. He had wondered if the town might have any sort of official record keeping that might lend him a copy of the blueprints or other such thing to help him figure it out. Hawkeye said it was possible, although she didn’t know for sure.

It was when he was taking a break from piecing together a general blueprint, that another startling discovery was made. Breda had been looking through the casefile that they had originally been tasked with when he noticed that something was missing. He had gone immediately to Falman to confirm, and Falman confirmed it. There were pages missing.

“But why those pages?” Falman asked.

Mustang’s jaw was set. “Those pages were specifically on the alchemy that was used at the scenes. It seems our intruder has an interest in alchemy. We need to catch him.”

“But how?” Havoc asked “We’ve not seen him at all. We don’t have a clue where he’s coming from.”

“Not exactly,” Breda said. “We know that he has to have a way in and out of the basement. Otherwise, he couldn’t have locked Hawkeye in there from both sides.”

Hawkeye tensed up, and Havoc found that he couldn’t really blame her for it.

“I need to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb,” Mustang said. “Until then, no one goes anywhere by themselves, understand?”

A chorus of “yes, sir!” rang out, Hayate even barking along with them.

“Breda, Falman, I want you two to go out and search the grounds. Look for anything unusual.”

They both nodded and headed towards the washroom to get their boots and gear up.

“Havoc, you and I are going to go back down there and look over that basement again.”

“Right.” Havoc replied.

“Hawkeye, Fuery, I want the two of you to go over this house. Don’t leave any place undisturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Fuery said

“Understood, sir.” Hawkeye replied, a steely look in her eyes.

“Keep Hayate near you,” he said. “He may be able to sense something before we’re able to.”

“Right,” Hawkeye said.

Mustang hesitated for a moment. “If this someone has an interest in alchemy…”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll be safe,” Hawkeye said. “I’ve got two reliable partners watching my back.”

Mustang nodded. “Right.”

Havoc couldn’t help but notice the tension and worry in both Mustang and Hawkeye as they turned towards their respective tasks, and he met Fuery’s eyes. The younger man looked firm, determined, and Havoc knew that Hawkeye would be safe in his hands.

The rest of the day was spent searching. Hawkeye and Fuery didn’t find much of anything, except some areas that could possibly be used for entry into the house, and they either took care of them themselves, or saved it to tell Mustang later. Havoc and Mustang didn’t have much luck either. The problem with searching for signs of alchemy in a house that had alchemists living in it and had already been looked over once by an alchemist, was that there were signs of alchemy everywhere. It was hard for Mustang to tell if his previous attempts at alchemy had been disturbed or not, much less for Havoc to be able to tell.

The only exciting thing was when Falman and Breda came back, slamming into the kitchen, Breda bellowing for Mustang.

“General! We found something!” Breda called.

Havoc rushed into the kitchen as well, hand hovering over his gun, just in case. When he got there, he saw Breda with a man dressed in a rain jacket, his head turned away from Breda’s yelling. Breda had his arms in a hold, and Falman had his gun trained on the man. The man wasn’t trying to resist.

“Who’s that?” Havoc asked, not quite able to get a good look at the man. He was about average height and weight, seemed to be wearing the same sturdy clothes most country folk wore, although they were muddy and wet, as if he had just come from spending a large amount of time outside. His coat was tan, and Havoc could see bits of brown hair sticking out from under the hood.

“Good question,” Mustang said, striding into the room. “Where did you find him?”

“Skulking around the edge of the woods,” Breda said. “Not sure what he was doing out that way, but he didn’t come quietly with us.”

It was then Havoc noted that all three men seemed to have a lot of mud on them, water soaking into their uniforms.

“What’s going on?” Hawkeye and Fuery entered the kitchen, both of them looking on curiously, although Havoc could see the sharpness in Hawkeye’s eyes, and the very subtle way her body shifted so she would be able to draw her gun more quickly.

“Breda and Falman found this man skulking near the edge of your woods,” Mustang said.

“Who is he?” Hawkeye asked, and that seemed to get the man’s attention.

“Ms. Hawkeye!” he said, and looked up at her, finally revealing his face. “What do you mean ‘who is he?’? Don’t you know?”

Understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes, and she relaxed a bit, although no one else did, Havoc included.

“Bennet Johnson?” she said.

The man nodded rapidly, as if wanting very hard to confirm that was who he was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Well, ma’am, I mean, I was just coming to check on the property. With the rain and all, I thought there might be some problems,” he said. He looked back at Breda. “Was I right?”

Hawkeye waved Breda and Falman off, and as soon as they did, the man was stepping away from them, rubbing his wrists.

Mustang watched her carefully. “You know this man, Captain?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I pay him to keep an eye on the property and do any sort of basic maintenance that the house or grounds need. I come out once a year to check on things myself. But he takes care of it for most of the year.”

“I see,” Mustang said, and, although it was clear that he understood, Havoc could see that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his suspicion. “And do you know him or his family?”

Riza shook her head. “He came to me on recommendation. He’s new to the area and needed work. I was told that he was fairly good with upkeep and repairs and decided to give him a chance. I’ve not been disappointed yet,” she said. She looked back over at the man. “You said you were just coming to check on the house and property?”

Johnson nodded rapidly. “Yes ma’am!”

Breda, who clearly was suspicious stepped a bit closer to Johnson. “Then why did you run?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want any trouble!” he said. I don’t know you or who you are! Your uniforms don’t mean you’re good people! Don’t you know how many former soldiers or deserters there are who still wear parts of their uniforms? I didn’t want to fall prey to one of them! I was going to head back to town and ask some questions! That’s all!”

It was a reasonable excuse, honestly, Havoc thought. The rain was likely to have caused some sort of damage to the house, and if he was responsible for checking the house, then it made sense that he would come to make sure that the house was in good repair. But something about it just didn’t sit right with Havoc.

Mustang nodded at Breda, and Breda backed off a bit. Falman lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away, Havoc noted. Seems Briggs had taught him a thing or two about action and how quickly it needed to be taken at times.

“Have you noticed anything strange around the house lately?” Mustang asked.

“You mean besides a bunch of strange soldiers?” Johnson shot back. He glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed to let out a bit of a sigh.

“Bennett Johnson, this is my commanding officer, General Roy Mustang. These are First Lieutenants Breda, Havoc and Falman, and Master Sergeant Fuery. We were on our way further south on official business when the tracks became too dangerous to travel. Instead, we’ve been forced to stay here. We didn’t mean to surprise you. I should have warned you about it. My apologies.”

Johnson shook his head. “No, no apologies. I heard about what happened in town. Seemed they’re full up and nearly every place that has a place you can stay is full up. I just wanted to make sure that there weren’t any soldiers or civilians who had decided to take advantage of an empty house. I know how particular you are, Ms. Hawkeye.”

“Thank you, Johnson, I appreciate that. But can you please answer the General’s question?” Hawkeye said.

“Oh! Anything strange around the house lately?” He paused to think. “Well, not in particular. Everything seems about the same and seems to be alright. The strangest thing I can think of is that some of the brick on the backside seemed oddly chipped. But there’s a woodpecker about who seems to be pecking on anything but wood, so I just chalked it up to that.”

Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged looks. “Can you show that place to Breda and Falman?” Hawkeye asked him.

“Oh, sure!” he said. “I mean, I did my best to fix it, but I can show them where it was.”

“Thank you,” Hawkeye said. “And thank you for coming to check on the place. Our apologies for attacking you.”  

Johnson shook his head. “It’s alright, Ms. Hawkeye. I get that you were just doing your jobs. Although this isn’t going to be easy to spot.” He turned to look at Breda and Falman. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you right where it is.”

“Alright,” Breda said and motioned for Falman to follow him first. Breda gave Mustang and Hawkeye a look that said he was already calculating something and that he had some words for the two of them later, but he followed Johnson out anyway.

Havoc holstered his gun, but he kept an ear out anyway. Something about this just didn’t settle right with him.

The bricks, it turned out, weren’t really that helpful. He had done his best to close them over, but on the whole, there wasn’t much to be gained from them. Likewise, nothing was turned up anywhere else in the house. By the time that bedtime came around, they were all beat. Showers were quickly gotten, leftovers quickly eaten, and beds quickly taken, except for the man on watch. They were woken up to take their turns at watch at need, and the night stretched on into another dreary cloud filled day of rain, rain, and more rain.

[magdaclaire]

do you write Clintasha? if you do i'd love the “i dont know how to exist in a world without you” prompt with them

A year late, @nightwideopen​, but you can find it on ao3 or read it under the cut!

Aw, concussion, no. 

This probably definitely isn’t good. A collapsed building, an archer who definitely can’t fly, and no escape plan. It wasn’t exactly a recipe for success, and Clint can tell from the hospital bed he woke up in that it worked out about as well as could be expected. He can feel the muscle in his legs, underworked and overrested, and wonders how long he’s been out. He hopes it wasn’t too long. He might have missed an episode of Dog Cops, and that is so totally not the business. He might have missed his turn to pick the movie for movie night! Tony never gives concessions for injuries, so they would have skipped his turn entirely. Assholes. Clint is halfway through a mental rant when he notices Natasha sleeping next to him, slumped in the waiting chair.

She looks rough. Rougher than he’s ever seen her before, hair mussed and unwashed, no makeup but the remnants of mascara, and her nail polish is cracked. For any other feminine person, those traits might be relatively normal. For the Black Widow, Clint gets a sinking feeling in his stomach and wonders exactly how long he’s been out. He watches her but doesn’t bother to wake her - if anyone else starts even walking down the hall, she’ll wake anyway. They’re both like that, but he doesn’t know when she became comfortable enough to sleep while he was awake. It wasn’t so quick as his own comfort, it never was, but it must have been years ago. He wants to lace their fingers just to know that she’s there. He doesn’t. 

She wakes up anyway. 

“Clint,” she gasps, startling awake and grabbing at his hand herself. When she sees him awake, cognizant and aware, there’s something so fragile to her that Clint has no idea what to do with it. She’s his best friend, his partner, his perfect other piece, the caution to his forward motion, the rough edges to his clean comfort. She’s his Nat, whatever that always means for him. His safe place. 

“I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay, Nat. We’re good,” he whispers, cautious of how much his throat hurts, and she reaches for the cup of ice chips next to his bed. He has to wonder how often they’ve been replacing them if they’re just there, but he has all ideas that he’s in the Stark Tower medical wing, not an actual hospital. Natasha hand feeds him several of the chips, letting him suck on three of them at a time instead of the usual one. He waits for them to melt in his mouth before bothering her into speaking. She looks too shellshocked, too guilty, too something to speak at first, and he wants to give her time. 

“I watched you fall,” she says eventually, her voice just as small as his whispers, and something in the range of his chest cracks apart. As many times as she’s seen that, it must have been some kind of bad this time. He really does lace their fingers now, his still bruised knuckles cracking slightly from the bit of strain. He doesn’t mind. It’s worth it. 

“I’m okay, Natty. I’ll get better. Broken bones grow back together stronger - you won’t be able to keep up with me when I’m all healed up,” he proposes in his best jovial voice, giving her one of his best grins. She doesn’t give him a smile back, but some of the tension in her face relaxes before she’s grimacing again. 

“I watched you fall. You fell and we couldn’t find you and you - you weren’t responding on the comms. You weren’t saying anything. You weren’t there. That was. That was the most scared I’ve ever been, Clint. I think you’ve ruined me, Hawkeye,” Nat says stiltedly, looking down at their laced fingers. She swallows audibly and is she - is she crying? Is she about to cry? Nat doesn’t cry. Natasha Romanoff does not cry, because Clint will cry and then they’ll both be crying and how useless is that? He strokes his thumb over hers to get her attention back, and when she looks at him, he smiles. He means it, means it, means it, because even if he is in pain and Nat is crying and they’re both crying, he still means all his smiles at Natasha Romanoff. 

“I’m okay. Nothing too bad happened,” he promises, even if he doesn’t know the extent of his own injuries. He just wants to reassure her. She shakes her head. 

“You don’t understand, Clint. You’ve ruined me. The Widow… I’m not meant to have any connections, any reason to depend on another human being, but. I don't know how to exist in a world without you. I don’t know how to live without weird omelettes in the morning and couch cuddles and reruns of Dog Cops and Kitchen Nightmares and someone to tell me that the nightmares aren’t real. I can’t do this without you,” she rambles - the Black Widow rambles - and Clint just wants to stand up to hold her. Instead, he scoots over, patting the hospital bed space next to him. There’s no hesitation in her quick migration, the way she throws herself from the chair and into his side, just softly enough to make sure she doesn’t damage anything. He wraps an arm around her. 

“It’s okay to need me. I need you too. I love you, Tasha. You’re the most important person in my life,” he says simply, because she always needs things like this - emotional things - laid out in the simplest terms. Sometimes he wants to kill every single person involved in Red Room training himself. Sometimes he wants to take Natasha with him to do it, a little Widow-Hawk vacation from Avenging to do some classic revenge. He takes all of his protective emotions and puts a kiss on the top of her head, pulling her even closer to him. 

“I love you too,” she replies, her voice still so quiet and crackling, but he knows she means it just as much as he does. She loves him as much as anyone can. And that works for them. 

[lovelyirony]

I was wondering if I could maybe ask for some Sharon and Bobbi Morse? But like i don't know if you are taking ideas at the moment and I've been like a week trying to message you to ask 👉👈

 i felt so bad i just saw this and i know you sent this in ages ago! i’m going to try my best. i’m not too familiar with bobbi morse, but i’m going to try my best! i am so so sorry for my late response! 

When Coulson had called and told Morse that she was going to be assisting in a training course, she wanted to put her head through a wall. She hated working with new recruits: they were either so nervous they’d blow the whole mission, or so cocky that they’d blow the whole mission. And then she would have to come and fix it. 

And then she walked into the gym with disinterest written all over her face, and paused when she saw her. 

Thirteen. One of the best agents in the field, also creator of the legendary “hair-flip-into-the-face” move that nearly every agent with long hair used now. 

Also her biggest crush. Bobbi doesn’t even like using that word because it’s so juvenile, but that’s the only real way she can describe it. 

“Hey Morse,” Thirteen says, grinning. God, her smile is gorgeous. “Ready to whip these trainees into shape with me?” 

“Um...yes.” 

They don’t talk for a while after that--at least, not personally. Thirteen shows how to incapacitate your opponent, and Bobbi shows how to do an effective choke-hold. 

It’s a good time. 

Thirteen grins at her. 

“Hit the showers, trainees. Tomorrow we’re gonna go over how to run and also keep going while looking back.” 

There are groans of acknowledgement as they move out of the room like a horde of zombies, completely exhausted.  

“You do well with the trainees,” Thirteen says. “I’m not sure why Coulson said you’d be hesitant.” 

“If I was on my own, half of these kids would be transferring to office jobs,” Bobbi admits. “I’m...not the best with people. Well, new people.” 

“We all heard about what happened in Belfast,” Thirteen says, grinning. “I, for one, think that you do great with trainees. We still use that story to scare them into always double-checking the wiring no matter their level of high education.” 

“Really?” 

“You tend to intimidate some of us, Mockingbird. Especially with all your help of SHIELD clean-up.” 

“No big deal,” Bobbi says, smiling. “Didn’t know you knew about that.” 

“Have a couple of friends in high places. Hawkeye wants your autograph.” 

Bobbi snorts. 

“Clint has it on a dollar bill or something, I’m sure. He’s asked for it about seven times, but six of those was because I got him coffee.” 

Thirteen laughs, and Bobbi can’t lie and say she isn’t honored that she got Thirteen to smile. 

- 

The week goes by easily, and Thirteen gets coffee. 

“You have a certain order you want from the cafe a street down?” she asks. 

“Um. Black. Coffee?” Bobbi asks. 

Thirteen sends her a look. 

“You serious?” 

“No, but I don’t wanna trouble you.” 

“Unless you’re the villain I captured in Vienna two months back and escaped, you’re not going to trouble me a bit.” 

“Vanilla latte, one espresso shot and hazelnut syrup.” 

“Gotcha.” She taps it in her phone, waggling the device a bit. “And now, I shall remember it forever!” 

Bobbi’s heart warms a little bit. 

They share coffee and smiles and Thirteen tells her a little bit about her cousin, who apparently survives solely off coffee and has a problem with creamers. 

“He’s specific,” she says. “Only one certain brand, and only one flavor. If they’re out, he won’t drink coffee and turns into the worst person alive.” 

“Sounds...eccentric,” Bobbi adds, and Thirteen laughs. 

“Yeah, one way to put it.” 

- 

There’s an emergency. Supervillain wants to take over the world, the save-the-world-team is on a vacation. 

“Bobbi, Thirteen, you’re our next bet,” Fury says. “Don’t fuck it up, and be back for dinner. Maria’s catered in pizza.” 

“Oh hell yeah,” Thirteen exclaims, pumping her fist. “Alright Mockingbird, let’s get started.” 

- 

Fighting with Thirteen is a perfect dream. She gets it, really and truly. She can improv like nobody’s business, check in with the rest of the team, and watches Bobbi’s back. 

Bobbi pushes her down to avoid a bullet, and she’s facing her, face in front of face, and too-close. 

“Well if this is how you wanted me, I really wanted you to show me off-hours,” Thirteen says, breathless. 

Bobbi laughs, helping her up while taking out a goon on his way to try to beat them up. 

“I have off-hours on Friday. Hopefully, you do too.” 

“Ooh, on til nine. Switched shifts with Romanoff for an early Saturday. You free then?” 

“Anywhere you want me, Saturday.” 

“Good, I can cross a few things off of my to-do list.” 

“Quit flirting on the battlefield or no pizza!” Maria barks into the communication line. 

Bobbi snickers. 

“Save a slice of pepperoni for me,” she quips. 

They get back to fighting. 

- 

Post-fight, current-pizza is perhaps the best that Sharon’s been feeling in a while. Especially with Bobbi so close to her, thighs nearly touching, and both faces streaked with dirt and satisfaction lining their smiles. 

“My apartment is only a few blocks from here,” Sharon whispers into her ear. “And I know you’re exhausted. What do you say we sleep this one off?” 

“Promise a shower?” Bobbi whispers back. 

“Only if I get a fantastic view.” 

Bobbi snorts. 

“You got yourself a deal. Let me pack up my bags.” 

Sharon hums with excitement as she unlocks her apartment. 

It’s personal, is what it is. Bobbi wasn’t expecting it. Usually, numbered agents were intensely private about their lives. No names, no reminders on the fridge, and definitely not any decorations/reminders of a personal life. 

Thirteen is...not that. 

“Technically, my name is an open secret,” Thirteen says. “I’m Sharon. Nice to meet you, Bobbi.” 

“Sharon,” Bobbi repeats slowly. She sees a hanging picture in the kitchen. She’s with a remarkably similar woman, although years younger. It appears that they’re at some sort of school event, and the young Sharon is holding up a blue ribbon of some sort. 

“That was at my ice hockey championship. Peggy always did like that.” 

“Huh.” 

Sharon grins. 

“Most don’t expect it, right? But enough about that. You want water?” 

“Please.” 

- 

They don’t do anything but exist together that night. Bobbi takes a shower, then Sharon. She wears a shirt that smells of good detergent and rosewater. 

“I’ll make breakfast in the morning,” Sharon whispers, turning off the lamp. “You get rest.” 

Yeah. Bobbi could get used to something like this. 

Coulson is quite smug when she signs up for another training session. 

“Told you that the newbies would grow on you.” 

“Oh, they definitely didn’t. Thirteen, however, did.” 

He pales. 

Bobbi laughs. 

[avengerscompound]

The B-List Avenger - 3

The B-List Avenger: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2290

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Action, Injuries, Angst, Pregnancy, Smut (vaginal sex)

Synopsis: After an explosion in your building, it’s up to Hawkeye to get you and your daughter to safety.  There might be worst ways to get to know someone.

Chapter 3: Positive

Clint Barton isn’t perfect.  Pretty far from it actually.  He stays out late only crawling into bed in the early morning where he’ll end up sleeping until the afternoon when it’s at its worst.  He drinks coffee like there is no other liquid on the face of the planet.  He tries to pretend he's anti-social.  He’s occasionally grumpy.  He had real issues with commitment.  Every now and again intimacy too.  His job is downright dangerous and means he could just disappear for weeks at a time with no contact at all.  He eats like shit and sometimes he just turns his hearing aids off so he didn’t have to talk to people.

He is all these things and he is good.  Clint Barton is one of the best really.  Selfless and kind.  Everyone is more important than him in his own mind.  On the important things, you could count on him.  He is talented.  So talented that he’s the only one of the Avengers that was just a person.  Tony, Rhodey, and Sam have the suits and Nat has received a shittier version of the Super Serum that enhanced her strength and reflexes.  Clint is just a guy who’s learned how to shoot a bow and arrow in the circus.

Most importantly he’s really trying.  Yes, he had past relationships end because he bailed as soon as things got hard.  Yes, he’d even had relationships end because he cheated on them.  Those things were inexcusable, but he was trying.  He owned up to his mistakes.  He was trying to correct them, and when you spoke to his exes they still liked him despite that.  Because you didn’t have to go deep to see he was good, and the good went right down deep to his core.

So despite the warnings from others, you gave him a shot.  It sometimes meant things went two steps forward one step back.  But you were patient and he was trying.  He stayed honest and open.  He didn’t run from his feelings.  The relationship had started in the hard spot and as you became more settled and comfortable with each it seemed to just get easier.

The thing that really sold you on him though, was how he was with Alexis.  He got that you were a package deal.  He knew how hard she’d take it if he did something stupid.  That breaking a child’s heart was something entirely different to breaking an adult’s.  He didn’t overstep lines with her either.  You were her mom, and he was your boyfriend, not her dad.  He listened to her when she had things to tell him and spoke to her without talking down.  When he had a backward step he made sure you both knew he wasn’t running.  It was kind of amazing really.  You’d never met a man that had been so adult about the fact you had a child.  Sometimes you would look at them and see this future where she did call him dad and not Cwint.  Where there were no more back steps.  You were a family and really happy.  A year into the relationship and while you aren’t rushing anything, you feel like that is closer to reality than not.

So why do the two red lines on the pregnancy test you hold fill you with such dread?

You still don’t know what happened.  You are so cautious.  You’re on the pill.  You have an alarm set on your phone so you never miss it.  When the first symptoms showed up you even double-checked to make sure you weren’t going crazy.  You definitely didn’t miss it.  Besides, you always used condoms.  After Alexis, you wanted to make sure any future pregnancies you had were intentional.  This shouldn’t have happened.  How on earth are you the most fertile person on the planet?

You throw the test in the trash, burying it down deep so no one found it by accident.  There is nothing for it.  You are going to have to tell Clint.  The sooner the better, before all your options are taken away from you.

You wash your hands and splash water on your face before heading out into the living room.  Alexis is sitting on the floor watching cartoons.  “Hey, Lexi.  You ready for playgroup?”

Alexis gets up and toddles over to you.  “Ready, mama.”  She says holding her arms out to you.  You pick her up and gather up her things and head out to the car.  On the drive to her childcare center, you call work and tell them you aren’t coming in today.  After you drop her off you call Clint.

“Hey, babe.”  He says in greeting.  “Everything okay?”  His voice sounds cheery but forced.  You’re calling when you’re normally busy.  In the world he lives in, that means something bad has happened.  He’s just trying not to give in to that fear.

“Fine.  Skipping work, you okay with a visitor?”  You ask.

“You’re sure that nothing’s happened?”  He asks, sounding somewhere between suspicious and panicked.

“I’m fine, Lexi is fine.  You wanna see for yourself, I’ll be there in about half an hour.”  You assure him.

“Yeah, okay.  Just got in from training, I had nothing else particularly going on today.”  He answers.

“Cool, cool.  I’ll be there soon.”  You say.  “Love you.”

“Love you too.”  He says and disconnects the phone.  It took a while to get to the ‘I love you, phase.’   All the people who he was closest with assured me that that was normal.  When he started saying it though, he never stopped.  Like it was a relief that someone didn’t reject it.

You drove down the long drive into the Avengers Compound and pulled into the guest car park.  Clint was striding out the front to see you.  You got out of your car and approached him shaking your head.  “I’m fine.”  You say, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Sorry.  Just… you never just skip work.  It’s weird.”  He says as his arms close around you.  He nuzzles into your neck and breathes you in for a moment.

You stroke your hands down his back and sigh.  “Okay, don’t freak out, but there is something.  We need to talk.”

He lets you go suddenly like you just burned him. “Aww, no… you can’t just drop a don’t freak out and expect me to not freak out.  I’m freaking out.”

“Clint, stop.  Come on.  Let’s go inside.  Somewhere private.”  You say

His shoulders slump, and he turns and starts making his way back into the compound.  “Aww… you’re breaking up with me.  I’m going too slow again.  I know I’m dragging my heels but I just…”  He turns to you suddenly.  “Please don’t break up with me.”

You put your arm around his waist and move him along again.  “It won’t be me breaking up with you, Clint.”

“What?  What does that mean?  What did you do?  Oh god.”  He babbles.

You decide it’s best to just get him to his apartment.  When you get inside you sit and Clint just paces.  “Did you cheat on me?  Is that it?  Who was it?  Was it someone I know?  Was it Tony?   Aww man, it was Tony wasn’t it?”

You groan and rub your hair and groan.  “I didn’t cheat on you.”

He turns and looks down at you.  “Then what is it?”  He pleads, getting down on his knees in front of you and putting his head in your lap.

You run your fingers back and forth through his hair and take a deep breath.  “I need you to try and stay rational.”

“I can’t promise that at all,”  Clint mumbles into your lap.

You continue to stroke his hair.  “I guess… You see… Ugh, why is this so hard?”  You take another breath and lean down resting your head on his.  “I’m pregnant.”

He scuttles back from you like you just threatened to break his neck.  “What?  You’re what?”

You had expected this.  This is Clint.  He doesn’t do change.  He doesn’t do commitment.  Still, it hurts.  It hurts that the first man you’ve allowed yourself to love, who is so good with your daughter’s first reaction is to run.  “Clint.  Please.”  You say, trying not to express how hurt you feel.

“But… but… we use protection.”  He says looking up at you.

“Yes, we do.  Two kinds. I don’t know what happened.”  You say keeping your voice calm, even though you really want to start crying.  “Please come back over here.”

“It-It’s mine?”  He says not moving.

That does it.  After already assuring him that you hadn’t cheated it breaks something in you.  You feel rage first, your hands balling into fists.  Your nails biting into your palms.  It passes quickly and you just feel alone, let down and incredibly sad.  You try to hold back the tears but it’s useless, you start to cry and just let your head fall into your lap and sob.

Clint is at your side immediately, hugging you and rubbing your back.  “I’m sorry.   I know.  I don’t know how to react to this.”

“Neither do I.  I don’t know what to do, Clint.  Tell me what I need to do?”  You plead.  He pulls you against him and strokes your hair, his lips pressed against the top of your head.  “You’ve accused me of cheating twice now.”

He groans, but his arms tighten around you.  “I don’t understand why you’re even with me.”  He says softly.

“What do you want to do?”  You ask, almost in a whisper.

He shakes his head.  “What do you want to do?”

“I asked so I could figure it out.  When I had Alexis, I was so confident.  I don’t even know who her father is.  I was just, I can do this.  Fuck it, I’m going to be a mom.”  You explain.  “I love her, and I don’t regret it.  But it’s hard.  I don’t think I can do it alone again.”

“You won’t be alone.”  He soothes, his voice shaking just a little.

“Really, because the word pregnant came out of my mouth and you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”  You snark.

He falls back on the couch and rubs his eyes.  He opens his mouth to speak a few times and then closes it again.

You sigh and move away from him.  “I guess… I guess I should terminate.  It’s too much pressure.”

Clint looks up at you.  “That’s not what you want though is it?”

You shake your head.  “I want us to be a family, Clint.  I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.  How you are with Alexis, you’re a natural.  But if you aren’t ready, we can’t force it.”

Clint looked down at his hands and picked his fingernails.  “I really love you, you know?”

You nod without looking at him.  “Sometimes that’s not enough.”

Clint groans again and pinches the bridge of his nose.  “I’m really bad at this.”

“Yeah.  I know.  It’s not your fault.”  You say and rub his thigh.

He sits back up.  “You know… you know, I think I’ve been able to do this because you had faith in me.  I’m … a piece of shit… but I want to not be.”

You take his hand and kiss the back of it.  “I can’t fix you, Clint.  No one can fix another person.  You were doing it on your own.”

He looks at you for a moment not saying anything before lunging forward and crashing his lips into yours.  You hesitate for a second before giving in to him.  He kisses you with a need and hunger that takes your breath away.  You wrap your arms around his neck and run your hands through his hair and down his neck.  He pulls back leaning his forehead against your head.  “I think… I want that.  For us to be family.”

“Think?”  You ask, your hands still stroking down his neck.

“Know.  Don’t … don’t get… can we keep it?  Can we have this baby together?”  He asks.

“Are you sure?  We still have time to decide.  You can think about it.”  You say gently.

He drops to his knee in front of you taking your hand in his.  “Positive.  Marry me?  Let me show you and marry me.”

You laugh.  You don’t mean to, but you do.  When it comes he looks like you stabbed him in the heart.  “Oh, honey.  No.  I love you but one massive step at a time.  I’m not going to agree to marry you if you ask just because I’m pregnant.”

He looks at you like a puppy that you just accidentally kicked.  “But- but I love you.”  He says.

“I love you too.”  You say cupping his jaw.  “So much.  You are a good man, Clint Barton.  But one big thing at a time.”

“Can we move in together at least.”  He said.

You smile down at him and lean in rubbing your nose against his. “That we can do.  You sure?”

He let out a sigh of relief.  “Positive.”

“I love you.  You know that right?”  You say.

He nods, his blue eyes meeting yours.  “I know.  I don’t know why you do.  But I know you do.”

“And I have faith in you.  You can do this.  But the stakes have just gone up.”  You say.  “You can do it though.  I know you can.  Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

He nods and his hands caress over your stomach.  “Nat is going to lose her fuckin’ mind when she finds out.”

You laugh and kiss his forehead.  “Yeah.  We’re going to get a lecture about birth control.”

Clint laughs.  “Nah, that’s coming from Katie.”

// NEXT

[lovelybuccky]

Three Things That Are Certain (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your mother once taught you that when you feel afraid, you should look at your surroundings and find at least three things that are certain, just three things that you know to be true. However, a collection of photos are found from different points in history, and you are in every single one. Questions are being raised, and you are finding it more and more difficult to name those three things. But he is there to remind you of what they are.

Warnings: Violence, profanity, graphic violence and descriptions of pain in later chapters.

A/N: Woo chapter two! I know I basically just uploaded chapter one but I don’t actually have an upload schedule yet sooo...yeah haha. Also Bucky is actually in this chapter so that’s good :’)

Previous Chapter

It always amazing how much can happen in a day. Just this morning you were buying flowers at the market, finding anyway to brighten up your bleak apartment. It’s only temporary, you would tell yourself.

Then on your way back you were snatched away and beaten to pulp, flowers scattered across the alley floor. Eventually you woke up, experienced another beating, prepared yourself for death and then Captain freaking America turns up flies you to New York.

So a pretty eventful day.

Now your in the Avengers Compound, and it’s weird. It’s a stark contrast from your apartment in Berlin. The sofa your sat on actually has a cover, the fridge appears to be fully-functional, and you can walk around without your feet sticking to the floor. It’s very plush, and you’re just not used to it.

You squirm in your seat, shaking hands clinging onto your hot mug, a blanket draped over your shoulders. You should have been taken to a proper interrogation room for questioning, but after watching you intently throughout the journey here, Captain Rogers insisted that you were questioned in the comfort of the Avengers living room. These were special circumstances after all.

Only the Captain, Widow, Falcon and Hawkeye were on the mission, but the rest of the Avengers were brought together upon your arrival. It was easier this way, everyone getting all the information at the same time. There was a moment of silence before Stark finally broke it.

“So, were you born a freak or did they make you that way?”

“Tony-“

“What? This kid has been travelling through time, does it not make you just a little bit edgy that she could literally be playing this moment over and over again until it goes her way? Because I don’t think you are fully aware of what she’s capable of, Cap.”

“I am aware, but she’s just a kid, Tony. Yes she’s powerful, but so are all of us. We don’t know her intentions yet, she’s no more of a threat to us than we are to each other.”

All eyes are on you, and you swallow reflexively. You try to think of something witty to say, a sassy comeback to lighten the mood, but you realise it’s probably not the right time and you are just too tired. Clearing your throat, you interrupt the discussion, “I’m…thank you for the generosity you’ve shown towards me. I understand you concerns, they are completely justified. I will try to answer you’re questions as truthfully as I can, and I can assure you that my powers are no threat to you. They scare me just as much as they scare you…”

That last sentence comes out as a mumble, inaudible to everyone in the room. Well, almost everyone. Your gaze flickers to a familiar pair of blue eyes, staring back at you. They seem softer now, and there’s something else there that you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s not pity, not sympathy but almost…understanding?

Your eyes shoot back to Stark’s as he clears his throat, and the questioning begins, “Okay, let’s start easy. Were you born with these powers or were they given to you?”

You hesitate, “I wouldn’t say given…Hydra made me this way, against my will.”

“So you were an experiment?” Widow questions.

“I…guess so.”

“You guess so?” Falcon pushes.

“Well, I don’t know how many there were before me.”

“There are others like you?” Hawkeye chimes in.

“I-I wouldn’t know…I was kept in isolation, only let out for tests and training.”

Cap’s turn, “Training?”

“Yeah, you know like…physical training, combat and-“

Now everyone wanted a turn.

“You can fight?”

“Uh kind of, it’s a bit more complicated than that-“

“What’s complicated about it? Can you fight, yes or no?”

“Well, yes, but only when-“

“Then how did they catch you so easily? Why didn’t you just go back in time to before they caught you and attack them when they least expect it?”

“Well-“

“Clearly they didn’t catch her so easily if she’s managed to avoid them for like…70 years. What’s up with that by the way? How are you the same age in all of these photos?”

“It’s-“

“Dude, do you know nothing about time travel? Obviously she hasn’t just been wondering around for 70 years, she could go back right now and get her photo taken in some other point in history and she would have only aged five minutes.”

“Actually, it’s not as-“

“But if you think about it…”

It’s never-ending. You can barely get out one answer before two more questions are fired your way. Everyone is talking over one another, talking over you, and it’s starting to get overwhelming. Yeah, you usually don’t have trouble holding your own, but you’ve had one heck of a day and you are exhausted. You can’t even think straight anymore, your mind a whirlwind of answers and your own questions that had formed over the last few hours. How did Hydra find you? How did the Avengers know to rescue you? How much do they actually know about you already? Are you really safe here?

Vision becoming hazy, your eyes fall back onto the one person who hasn’t asked any questions. He scans your face, instantly recognising your distress and uncrosses his arms, “Guys. Guys…Hey!”

The room goes silent. Everyone’s staring at him now, and Stark’s arms are up in mock surrender, “Frosty has spoken. Everybody run for cover.”

Bucky ignores his comment, “It’s nearly two in the morning, can’t this wait until later? She’s clearly not a threat to us, otherwise she would have done something by now. Look at her, she’s been through enough today. She’ll be more useful to you when she’s had some rest and can answer your questions properly. Steve, Nat, Clint, Sam - your mission wasn’t easy, you need a breather too. And for the love of God,” he glares at Tony, “ask one damn question at a time, your giving me a headache.”

They continue to stare back at him, mouths agape. Clearly this doesn’t happen often.

Steve is the first to recover from the outburst, “Bucky’s right. This isn’t going to work if our head’s aren’t fully in it. We’ll get some sleep and continue this in the after noon. I do have just one question though,” his gaze settles on you again, “what’s your name?”

You can’t help but laugh, the fact that nobody had asked until now summed up this situation in all its absurdity, “Y/N, my name’s Y/N.”

He smiles genuinely at you, “Y/N, I’ll show you to your room whilst Nat and Wanda find you some spare clothes. You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, and if you have any questions please don’t hesitate to ask.”

A fraction of the weight is lifted off your shoulders - not much, but it’s enough, “Thank you…Captain.”

He shakes his head, “Please, call me Steve.”.

You nod and let him lead the way, painfully aware of one set of eyes following you on your way out.

Coming out of the bathroom, you towel dry your hair and sit on the edge of your bed. Nat and Wanda had found some sweatpants, a t-shirt and a pair of thick socks for you to wear. They were obviously unworn, you don’t recall a time when you wore something so soft.

Glancing at the clock, you see it’s just past 2:30am, and suddenly a wave of exhaustion hits you. You hang up the towel and crawl into your bed. The covers are warm and fresh, and the mattress is so soft beneath you you feel like you’re floating. It doesn’t take long for the realm of sleep to welcome you with open arms.

Your eyes shoot open, sitting bolt up right as a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, your chest heaving. It was just a dream, you think to yourself, it wasn’t real, just go back to sleep. Laying your head back down on the pillow you blink at the ceiling.

But it felt so real. You dreamt you were back in that God forsaken chair, leather straps holding you in place. Through a glass window you saw your family and old friends, facing away from you. You screamed and cried for them to turn around, to save you and take you home, but no sound came out. Tears were streaming down your face as they yanked your shoulders back and injected you with that sickly green liquid. The last thing you saw were the faceless figures of the guards and scientists that surrounded you, before you started falling, spiralling into the abyss.

…yeah this just won’t do.

Leaning across the bed you check the clock. 3:24am.

Okay, you could run off just two hours of sleep, right? Not that you had much choice anyway, there was no way you’d be able to fall back asleep now. You climb out of bed and head for the kitchen. A glass of water would probably help. Ideally you’d have a cup of coffee, but you didn’t want to risk waking up the others, especially not after all they had done to rescue you from that hell-hole.

Flicking the switch to the kitchen lights, you’re startled when you see another person in there already, setting up the coffee machine.

It was him.

He looks over at you, taking in your appearance, “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, “Bad dream.”

He nods in understanding before chuckling slightly, “Me too.”

You look at each other for a moment, both recognising that neither wanted to push the other further, and both understanding that that was okay. He’s the first to break the silence, “Coffee?”

“I-uh…that would be great, thank you.”

You plop yourself onto one of the breakfast stools as he busies himself making the coffees. It’s silent between you two, but it’s not tense or uncomfortable, it’s just kind of…there. After a few minutes he slides your coffee across the counter to you, “Listen, I’m sorry about the others earlier. They were tired and…well this kind of thing doesn’t usually happen. I promise they mean well, we’re all just a bit…spooked, I guess.”

There’s a slight Brooklyn twang in his accent, and for some reason it makes you smile, “The Avengers? Spooked? I almost feel quite proud of myself.”

He laughs at that, and it makes something inside you buzz. His eyes crinkle at the sides, a full toothed smile caressing his features. Seeing him like this is odd, seeing him smile is odd, but something about it still makes you feel warm inside and you can’t pin point why. You dismiss it, it’s probably just your lack of sleep.

His eyes scan yours for the second time that evening, what he’s looking for you don’t know. He stops abruptly though, a realisation hitting him, “I-um, I’m sorry I-uh never properly introduced myself, I’m Bucky.” He holds out his hand for you to shake.

You take his hand in yours, shaking it as you chuckle to yourself. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What?”

You stop for a moment. You were going to have to tell him and the others eventually, you might as well jump this hurdle now and get it over with.

“We, uh…we’ve actually met before.”

Next Chapter // Masterlist

[marvel-lously]

A Kiss For A Slip

Words: 3000ish

Genre. fluff

Pairing: Zendaya x reader

A/N: I had this scenario in my head for far too long and I am now finally putting it into words. This is a little different than the rest of Zendaya fics I’ve seen so far. I am actually quite proud of how it came out and I sincerely hope you like it too (in fact, I am thinking of writing a smutty next part so tell me if you’re interested). Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :D

All photos belong to amazing @really-bad-pauses

Tags ‘cause I am a bit of an attention whore (but tell me if you want to be untagged): @supersoldierfreak @ryleighisapanda @one-big-dreamer @santahollands @spiderrrling @hollandroos @lauxxury @itsholyholland @peachyhollands @lesbianfalcon @screamholland @ginatoldmeso @theassetseyeliner @no-aaaahhhh @aw-hawkeye @falseosterhollandfantasies @zophora @angelpparker @allithewriter @likechadwick @purespidey @petalparker @astral-parker @cindysmoonss @spideymybabe @afilmbypeterparkr @mj4president @mandatheredpanda @princessunicorn13 @talkfastparker

»Yo Paddy, help  me out with this will you? Y/N's coming home today.« Tom yelled from the bottom of the stairs, sighing frustratingly after getting no response. »I swear to god Paddy I will spoil the Endgame for you, if you don't come down and help me right away!«

Loud rumbling could be heard, coming from Paddy's room. »Okay I'll help you, I'll help you, just, don't you dare spoil the movie for me.« Paddy shouted, running down the stairs, almost falling in the process.

»Good, now let's get on with it.« Tom smiled, clapping his hands.

»Where are Harry and Sam? Why aren't they here to help?« The youngest of the brothers asked, making a dissatisfied face.

»They are, they went to the store to get some of the missing ingredients.« Tom gave his younger brother a pat on the head. »Don't be like this, you know how Y/n always does things like this for us, so, don't you think it would be kind if we do something nice for her, for a change?«

Paddy seemed to give  Tom's words a considerable amount of thought, then nodded. »You're right Tom«, he said shyly, fidgeting with his hands, »but I don't want to be the one who only washes the dishes all the time, I want to be real help!«

Tom looked at him, smirking. »Okay, fine, you're in charge of cooking the bechamel sauce for our lasagna, deal?« Tom offers his hand out for Paddy to shake in agreement.

The boy just gawked with wide, but excited eyes. »Deal.« He quipped, firmly shaking Tom's hand.

The bell rang.

»I'll get it« called Tom from the kitchen, quickly drying his hands with a kitchen towel.

You squeezed Tom in a tight embrace. You haven't seen your brother in what? Three months? College was hard.

»Wow, Y/n, I see you still look... stressed, depressed...« he looked you up and down »not even well dressed, I see.«

You gasped mockingly. »Why thank you my dearest brother and you still look like a 12 year old. Honestly, has Paddy outgrew you yet?« You joked, ruffling Tom's hair.

»I missed you too sis.« He laughed, hugging you once more.

»Y/n!!« Sam, Harry and Paddy, came barging through the hallway door, throwing themself at you, wrapping you in a giant hug.

»Hey Paddy! Wow! You've grown so much!« you said, your voice astounded.

»Come on, let's go eat before we all start crying. The English are salty enough as it is.« Harry chuckled, pushing you towards the dining room.

»Where are mum and dad by the way?« You asked curiously.

»Oh, they just went to pick up Z, they should be back in half an hour.« Tom shrugged nonchalantly.

»I'm sorry, what?«  You asked, gulping.

»Yeah, Z's coming to London for filming for a couple of days and since we're friends I thought it'd be okay if she stays with us.« Tom raised an eyebrow. »Why? Is there something wrong with that?«

»No, nope, all good here, I'm just... imma go to the bathroom real quick.« You said, already backing out of the room.

What the fuck? Zendaya is coming to your house? Without as much as a single warning from Tom?? How fucking dares he?

Your mind was all over the place, you had to take deep breaths in order not to freak out.

You splashed some cold water in your face, hoping it would pull you back from wherever the hell your train of thoughts was heading.

It's just another one of Tom's friends staying here for a sleepover, nothing unusual, except... this time it was your crush.

You had the biggest crush on Z ever since you saw her in Homecoming. She was this cool, talented, beautiful, smart girl and you were... you. There was nothing special about you, or at least so you thought.

You decided to head back before the boys got suspicious.

»Y/n? Is everything alright with you?« Sam's expression was clearly worried.

»Yes, yeah of course, I'm just a little tired from the ride here and everything.« You offered a reassuring smile.

You ate your dinner quicker than ever before. Every bite burned your throat and by the end of it, you thought you were breathing fire.

The doorbell rang once again. You panickingly grabbed your napkin, wiping the meat sauce off your mouth.

»Hey Z!« You heard Tom's greeting from the hall.

»Y/n! Your mum and dad came rushing through the door, each enveloping you in their arms.

You hugged back. You missed them more than you will ever admit, but you still let go fast, not able to shake this nauseous feeling you got when you saw Z standing behind them.

»I believe we haven't met yet.« She smiled, stretching out her hand. »I'm Zendaya« Her voice chimed and you could feel goosebumps forming on your skin.

»Yeah, I know«, you forced a smile, giving her hand a lousy shake, »I'm Y/n.«

The most beautiful smile you had ever seen graced her lips. »Yeah I know, Tom told me a lot about you.« She almost sang.

Oh god, of course he talked about you, you could only hope he left out a few of the embarrassing things you have done.

»I sure hope they were good things.« You let out a nervous laugh.

»Absolutely.« She chuckled, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

˝Oh god, oh god, oh god. Okay Y/n, don't freak out, don't freak out, just play it cool. Just fucking play it cool.˝ You thought to yourself.

She must've felt you tense under her touch because she soon let go and mumbled a timid sorry.

»I... I'm gonna head to bed now.« You stuttered.

»Already?« Tom asked, surprise clear in his tone.

»Like I said, I'm super tired and I don't want to fall asleep on the couch again.« You smiled, heading to your room.

»Was is something I said?« Zendaya's concerned voice was the last thing you heard before locking yourself in your bedroom

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˝Y/n, you good?˝ -Message from Sam.

˝Yeah?˝

-Your message.

˝Wanna talk about it?˝-Message from Sam.

˝Do I WaNnA TaLk AbOuT iT??!˝

-Your message.

˝Well do you??˝-Message from Sam.

˝It's just that Tom didn't tell me about Z coming over and I was a little unprepared that's all.˝-Your message.

˝Y/n, I know you, that's not it. Tell me what's rly going on.˝-Message from Sam.

˝Oh you think you know me?!˝

-Your message.

˝Well believe it or not Y/n, we've been siblings for over 19 years, so yeah, I do know you. And where tf do you even get all those pictures??˝-Message from Sam.

˝It's a secret.˝-Your message.

˝*gasp* you dare to keep secrets like this from your own brother˝

-Message from Sam.

˝*double gasp* you dare to interrogate me about my secret meme stash?˝-Your message.

˝Ugh, you're trying to distract me... just tell me what's wrong already.˝-Message from Sam.

˝Ugh, fine grumpy. I have a crush on her okay?˝ -Your message.

˝And why is that a problem??˝- Message from Sam.

˝Because she's a gorgeous and I am a potato???˝-Your message.

˝You're not a potato... okay maybe you're chips, but those are pretty nice anyways so I still don't see your point here.˝- Message from Sam.

˝Anyways, mum's telling me to put my phone down, plus she said we have to go shopping tomorrow so... we'll talk about this tmrw??˝- Message from Sam.

˝k˝- Your message.

You sighed in frustration, putting your phone  on the nightstand, you hoped you'll be able to get some sleep despite all that has happened that day, knowing you're going to need a lot of energy to deal with all of it the next day.

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You woke up early, wanting to have the bathroom for yourself before the four of them come crowding in and there's no way in hell you can do your makeup or anything for that matter.

You stripped down, ready for a hot shower to wake you up. You tried your new ginger lemon shampoo your friend bought you for Christmas. It smelled heavenly.

You barely managed to grab a towel before Zendaya opened the door.

»Jesus!« You shouted, startled by her sudden appearance.

»Y/n, oh gosh, I'm so sorry, I thought the toilet was free« She started apologizing, her cheeks getting warmer by second.

»It's... we don't usually lock the door I am afraid.« You mumbled incoherently.

»Right... I'm so sorry, I'm just... I am gonna leave now.« She said, stammering over her words and promptly leaving the spot. »And go jump off a bridge.« She murmured to herself.

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»She just came out of nowhere. Oh god Sam, I didn't even have my legs shaved, I must've looked like a freaking grizzly bear to her. What's she going to think about me now?« You whisper-yelled panickingly, pushing the trolly.

»Y/n, just calm down will ya? It's not like she came in to check whether or not you're regularly shaving your legs.« Sam rolled his eyes.

»But I am regularly shaving my legs, well... except for winter... but that's beside the point, I mean what even? She's this beautiful goddess, sent to destroy my sanity as it seems.« You sighed, subconsciously pulling on your hair in frustration.

»Wow, you're really crushing hard this time, aren't you?« Sam chuckled.

»If you say as much as a single word to her, I will make sure Tom knows you were the one who tried on his suit when he was gone and tore it.« You threatened, pointing a finger at him.

»Ugh... you're impossible!« He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands in hopelessness.  »Fine, I won't say a word.«

»Pinky promise?« You asked untrusting, offering him your finger.

»Pinky promise.« He sighed, hooking his pinky around yours.

»I don't understand though, why won't you just talk to her?« He asked, wanting to understand your logic in this situation.

»Because... Sam, I don't stand a chance. She's so amazing and cool and intelligent and I am...«

»You're strong and kind and hardworking and smart and caring and pretty. Y/n, stop putting yourself down like this.« He said, looking you straight in the eyes.

You smiled, Sam's words somewhat lifting your spirits up. »Plus, she's so cute I could literally die.« You laughed nervously.

»Then perish.« Sam said in the most serious tone he could master, before you both burst out laughing.

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»She looked so cute, like a scared puppy or something.« Zendaya rambled, her voice a few octaves higher than normal. »But I'm so embarrassed tho, I just barged in, like what does she think of me now? If she didn't like me before, she sure as hell doesn't like me now.« Z nearly cried hiding her head in the pillow on the couch.

»I think you're exaggerating now.« Tom tried to reassure, rubbing her back soothingly. »I’m sure Y/n likes you, she's just shy around people she doesn't know well.”

»Oh yeah? Tom, when I touched her she tensed like I just poured ice on her.« Zendaya’s voice was desperate.

»Like I said, she's... really shy.« Tom tried to  comfort her.

»I don't know... I still don't think she likes me very much.« She murmured into the pillow.

»Maybe you two need to go out and do something together, like some sort of bonding time you know?« Tom suggested.

»And what do you suggest we do?«

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»Harry, Tom, we're home.« You yelled carrying a bag of groceries.

»Come here, we're just watching a movie.« Harry yelled from the living room.

You let down your groceries, heading towards the living room.

»Aww, it's Me Before You.« You smiled at seeing one of your favorite films playing on telly.

You sat on the sofa. »Come here Tess!« You pated your legs and Tess immediately left Tom's lap, jumping on a seat next to you.

»Oh I see, I thought there was only one traitor bitch in this house, but I see there's two.« He feigned being offended.

»Jealous much?« You laughed, giving him an evil grin.

»I'm back!« Zendaya's voice rang from the hallway. You immediately froze. You wanted to be around her so bad, but at the same time, you wanted to bury yourself alive from how awkward you were around her.

»Hey Y/n« She greeted, offering you a smile.

»Hi« You tried your best for your voice not to tremble.

»What's up?« She asked, plopping down next to you and Tessa.

»Nothing much, I was just about to leave before I start full on crying because of this movie.« You tried to offer her a smile, already standing up.

You got yourself four incredulous looks and a judgemental one from Sam.

Soon after you went upstairs, so did Zendaya.

»Okay what's going on with Y/n?« Tom asked, your behavior making absolutely no sense to him.

»She has a crush on Z« Sam sighed, running his hand through his hair.

»Oooh, well, that... still doesn't explain why she's acting the way she is...?« Tom waited for an explanation.

»Well, she doesn't think she stands a chance with Z.« Sam explained.

»Oh my god, are you serious right now?« Tom asked, staring unbelievably at Sam.

»Yeah tell me about it, but try convincing Y/n into it... you know how she is.«

»I told Zendaya to invite her to do something together, to bond you know?« Tom said, his voice hopeful.

»Are you sure you won't just make things more awkward between them this way?« Harry questioned, sceptical.

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There was  knock on your door.

»Y/n? Can I come in?« Zendaya's muffled voice made your heart skip a beat.

»Uh, yeah, sure.« You cleared your throat, quickly grabbing a few of the clothes laying around the room and hiding them under your bed. »What's good?« You asked once she stepped in.

»Well, I got this spa cupones today and I was wondering if you wanted to join me?« She asked, playing with her sleeves nervously.

Her words sent your brain into overdrive. Oh my goodness, Zendaya just asked you to come to a spa with her. Zendaya freaking Coleman asked you to go to a spa with her! But... what if you make things awkward, what if she's only asking you to be nice and doesn't actually want you to come with her, what if...?

»Y/n?« Her voice broke your trans. »I'm sorry, you don't have to go if you don't want to.« There was a genuine disappointment in her voice.

»No, no, I...« you cleared your throat once more, »I would love to go.«

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. »Oh that's wonderful!« She chipped. »Come on, let's go!«

»Wait... right now?« You gulped nervously.

»Well yes, unless... you don't want to go right now?« She raised her eyebrow in question.

»No, it's okay, just give me a second to get ready okay?«

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You were walking down the pavement, your hands freezing. How could you be so stupid to forget your mittens at home, in this weather. You tried pulling your sleeves over your hand in hopes it would help, unfortunately it proved out to be useless.

»Jesus Y/n, your hands are literally turning blue from the cold, here«, she said, taking a hold of your hands, »let me help.«

You had to bite your tongue in order to stop yourself from squealing. Not only were your hands getting warmer, your entire body was.

When you arrived at the spa, you two decided to go to the pool first, you both needed to warm up a bit, after walking the entire way over here, in this icy weather.

You had to force yourself not to gawk at Z like a madman. She looked stunning, her olive green swimsuit complimenting her beautiful tawny complexion.

»Last one in the pool buys hot chocolate.« She yelled, running towards the pool.

You quickly ran after her, but just before you managed to reach the pool your foot slipped, sending you face down to the ground.

Zendaya rushed back to you, helping you get up. »Shit, Y/n, can you stand?« Panic was clear in her voice.

No, no you couldn't, but no so much because of the pain, but because you just face planted in front of your crush. Oh god, you were a mess.

You clutched hard on her arm. »I am a little dizzy.« You admitted.

»Yeah, no wonder, you're bleeding«, she rubbed soothing circles on your back, »come on, let's get you cleaned up.« She said, allowing you to lean almost your entire weight on her, taking you to the toilets.

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You were sitting on a toilet seat, while she went to get first aid.

»I am sorry, this is my fault.« She said, pressing a damp cotton ball to the side of your forehead, where your wound was.

»No, no it's not, you're not the one who was careless enough to ignore the fact that floor was wet and full on sprinted to the pool.« You laughed, hoping your words would reassure her.

She gave you a tight smile, not once removing her eyes from your wound.

The feeling of her hot breath send shivers down your spine, every nerve inside of you seemed so much more sensitive when you were around her.

»There« she said, after she finished cleaning the gash, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

After she realized what she has done, she froze, her soft lips promptly leaving your skin.

»I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that.« She stammered.

Your mind quite literally exploded.  You looked at her and you could see she was just as much of a mess as you were.

You took a hold of her hands, giving them a comforting squeeze. You stared deep into her eyes. ˝Oh hell, it's now or never, be brave for once in your life˝ you thought, slowly leaning in, your foreheads now touching. You gave her enough time to back away, but all she did was close her eyes before you softly brushed your lips against hers.

After a while, you slowly broke the kiss. She didn't even give you a second to think, before she pressed her lips back to yours, only this time, with much more passion. She grazed her tounge against your bottom lip, begging you to give her entrance and you happily obliged, the feeling of her tounge like a drug to you.

A knock on the door broke your makeout session. »Is everything okay in there, do you need anything else for the wound?« It was the receptionist who gave Zendaya the first aid.

»No, we're good.« You yelled back, a little out of breath.

»Come on, let's go back before they call you an ambulance«, she smirked, »We'll continue this later.«

[irwinkitten]

drown it out | l.h

requested: lmao soulmate!luke of course it’s requested pairing: luke x reader prompt: “ Promise me, that whatever happens, you'll remember me. “ notes: i wrote this whilst on the train to Sheffield for my mytt show whilst listening to ghost of you and honestly i’m sorry. also i played around with the writing, let me know if you liked it or not?? i’m experimenting and changing things up a lil bit  words: 1.4k!

---

People never really believed the soulmate theory when it was put into test with many variations. 

People couldn't believe that there would be one person who would fill the small hole that people had been describing as they got older. 

There were so many beliefs on the subject that it became something frequently asked about. Celebrities were asked what they believed, politicians were asked if they thought the tests were truly real or fabricated to push the agenda of those who were simply lost.

Luke had never been sure of his feelings on the subject. He'd always felt the emptiness that many described before they'd met their soulmate. And in the vast emptiness, he'd destroyed himself to try and stop himself from feeling that.

Tabloids ran with the news of how he was spiralling, how his current arm candy had been caught with someone else. How he was becoming a burnout and the band had barely had their foot in place in the musical world.

It'd been Ashton pulling him from the pit he'd dug himself in that made him realise his feeling son the subject. But as the band began to gain traction once more, the new release hitting all the charts and sending their name soaring through the world, he couldn't shake the empty feeling that sat in his gut. 

Part of that feeling had inspired so many songs on the album but he'd kept quiet about that, letting the others come to their own conclusions about the lyrics. 

He was lonely.

Going back on tour helped to fill the void in his heart, it felt like he could breathe again with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins, but he knew it was a quick fix to the sadness. It was still something he needed to deal with, healthily. 

So he googled therapists who were willing to talk about soulmates, to help him from falling into the pit he'd created with his own hands.

And his therapist listened. They reassured and gave him self-help tips and he began to explore his emotions, his looks, who he was.

And he'd felt so much better for it.

And it was one of the days where he'd tried not to get maudlin about it all, to focus on the good that his soulmate was still out there. When he ran into her.

Quite literally.

His hands shot out to steady her, his fingers coming into contact with soft skin and he could've sworn his heart skipped a beat as he looked down, her eyes widening as they met his and he could feel his breath being taken from him as he realised who she was.

His soulmate.

"Hi." He breathed, his fingers unable to move from their spot on her arm.

He could physically feel something in his heart shift, and she was the reason behind it.

"I never thought---oh my." His heart sank slightly, but the look of wonder on her face gave him hope. Hope that she wouldn't laugh at him.

"I'm Luke." He finally murmured and she found herself offering a shy smile in return.

"Y/N." Came the soft whisper and he found his own lips pulling into a wide grin.

"Uh, would you like to maybe take a walk?" He hated the fact he sounded so hopeful, knowing she had the chance to absolutely crush his heart with one negative word.

Instead, she beamed at him in return.

“Of course, I, can I make a call first? I was meant to meet someone, but I think they'd understand." He nodded as she stepped a few steps away, her eyes still returning to him every now and then, almost as if she was checking he was still there.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"I know we agreed, but---and you can't shout at me for this---but I think I just met my soulmate." 

He watched as she winced, the tone clearly louder than expected.

"You of all people know this is important! I promise you, I would never ditch you like this, but please, for me?" A pause. "Thank you." 

She put her phone away and walked back up. Luke immediately offered his arm and she found herself giggling at his actions.

"You're definitely better than what the news could ever say about you." He grimaced at that.

"I'm not proud of that." 

"And if you had been, I'd be going back home." The sharp response came and he gave her a small smile.

"I'm still getting help for it. I'm trying to be better, but---" He hesitated, unsure of how to describe it to Y/N how he felt.

"It's a struggle, isn't it?" He was caught off by the soft tone, her features soft and kind, not an ounce of pity in her eyes, only understanding.

"I've been trying to function without relying on adrenaline to make me feel better." He admitted as they wandered away from the busy city, walking through a neighbourhood she clearly knew.

"And how's it going for you?"

"I managed it. I got to the point where I could focus on something else and it didn't hurt. Not as bad as it used to." 

"But then you met me." She hummed playfully and Luke found himself grinning.

"Then I met you." They'd come to a stop in front of a small kids park, a look of nostalgia upon her face. Without a second thought, he laced his fingers with hers, making her look up in shock.

"Maybe this is where things are better for both of us?" His question was quiet, but she paused before nodding thoughtfully.

"Always, rockstar." And before he could do much, she pressed her lips against his and he felt his world explode into the most blissful feeling as his hands pulled her closer, holding her against him.

She didn't protest, pulling her arms tighter around him, almost as if he were the only thing holding her together.

News got out fast of his soulmate and at first, Luke hated it. He hated how he was demanded to talk about her, to tell the world her secrets. But he never did. 

Her secrets had been hers to keep and he had promised they would never leave his lips without her permission.

She'd convinced him to move out of LA, or at least move to the outskirts of the city, more focused in the rural areas. And it helped take the pressure off him when they'd moved into their own place away from the hubbub of the city that never really slept.

As time moved on, he felt his soul heal from the damage he'd done to it. All because of her soft touches, her gentle kisses that left him wanting more. The way she held him on his worst days. She had helped him heal and he loved her with his entire being. 

He reciprocated, making sure he was there when she'd cried out from nightmares that still plagued her sleep. His own soft touches soothed her bruised soul and helped her love once more. They had brought the best out in each other and everyone could see that.

But nothing could prepare him for shortly after they'd married, their routine set in stone, or as in stone it could be when he was home. 

He was preparing for a day in the studio when a crash resounded around the kitchen and he dropped his keys and bag, racing to find Y/N sprawled in such a way that his heart stopped for a second before he dialled 911.

He was with her as they arrived and he was begging for her to come back to him.

She was alive, but barely.

They rushed her to hospital where they stabilised her, sending her for all sorts of tests to understand why she'd collapsed.

By the time that they'd sent away for the results, she'd come around, her eyes drifting in and out from consciousness as she tried her hardest to hold onto Luke.

"You aren't allowed to leave me yet." He almost begged her, with tears in his eyes.

"Promise me, that whatever happens, you'll remember me." Y/N whispered, her eyes holding his.

"How could I forget you? Especially with your carbon copy at home." He whispered. Their little girl, Sophie, had become the light of their lives a handful of years ago.��

He watched as she smiled gently, her fingers lifting up to trace his jaw.

"I love you, soulmate." Her hand went slack, hitting the bed as Luke felt his heart stop with hers before it broke, a wail escaping him as nurses began to surround her, trying to pull her back.

But he could feel it, she was gone.

---

tag list: @cals-babylons, @plainwhiteluke, @calumsdemons, @wrappedaroundcal, @pumpkincalum, @blameiuke, @pumpkinsmashton, @irrevocablylukes, @astroashtonio, @catchinqcalum, @plaidpantsluke, @qualitylu, @5saucewho, @babylon-uncrowned, @dontstopisagoodsongchangemymind, @therainydays4, @my-world97, @silverchainbee, @hidd3nfangirl, @doodleasouarus, @hemmomfg, @mylovehes, @songforhema, @kinglyhood, @youngblood199456, @makecoffeenotwars, @5squash, @negative-love, @softboycal, @allltimehemmo, @you-of-ghost, @mzchnandlerbong, @jane-ofalltrades, @meetyoutheremgc, @lmao5sosimagines, @lietoash, @aw-hawkeye, @biggestslutforcalum, @drummerboy794, @itkindajusthappenedreally,

[cursed-to-be-a-sidekick]

This was supposed to be a writing exercise. It was also supposed to be from Kate’s perspective and a fight scene. If you bother to actually read it you will quickly find that I failed at the prompt. 

Warning it’s pretty depressing because Children’s Crusade 

Word count is 1425 words. I did not count. I should’ve been working on my novel instead. Anyways this is the first time I’ve ever written fanfiction but I needed inspiration so I really don’t care if it’s only whatever. 

Anyways without further ado the one time Clint gets to be the less disastrous Hawkeye. (Matt Fraction inspired ish)

The Less Disastrous Hawkeye

This looks bad.

Kate's not drunk. At least she insists she's not drunk. In actuality there may be a chance that she's a little bit of a lot of bit drunk. But still she's insistent. She'd never tell anybody what was really going on. And so long as it concerns anybody else Kate Bishop is not drunk. Even if she did almost pass out on Clint Barton's couch.

"Katie-Kate I think that's enough." Clint says as he takes a bottle of beer out of her hand. It wasn't hers. Clint left it out, he was drinking it before he fell asleep watching Dog Cops. The thud of the other Hawkeye walking into his room woke him up. Damn falling asleep with hearing aids in. 

Kate mumbles something in response and he picks her up slinging her over his shoulder and plopping her into his bed. No it was not like that. Kate's his protege. A slightly less disastrous version of him. The slightly becoming more slight each night. He returns back to the couch takes out his hearing aids and falls back asleep. When he wakes up in the morning he will have to deal with hungover Kate. Might as well get as much sleep as possible before then.

These types of nights have been becoming more and more common. Kate goes out, sometimes it's one of her dad's parties, sometimes it's just on her own. She gets drunk. And Clint winds up babysitting her at three in the fucking morning.

It happens about three nights a week now. And he's starting to get concerned about his fellow Hawkeye. He could ask her what's wrong but Kate's never in the mood to talk and he's not so good at feelings. And so he lets it go on. For about three months. 

At this point Kate is bordering around alcoholic. Half the time when he sees her she's barely coherent or asleep. So he does what any sensible man who's worried about his partner in crime (again, not in that way) would do.

He locks her in his bedroom. 

Well when put like that it sounds a bit strange. And she's a Hawkeye she can break out from a locked room. His bet is that Kate's going to be too hungover to do anything. And that's when they can talk.

It works like a charm. If a charm screamed at you for the entirety of thirty minutes before collapsing on the ground hitting the door and sobbing. After about an hour of that he opens the door to see the archer fall back head hitting the floor and then jumping up. She must've fallen asleep.

"Girlie-girl we need to talk." Clint says firmly. Kate sighs but doesn't move from where she lies on the floor. Weakly she holds her hand up to give him the finger before closing her eyes.

When she wakes up she's lying on the couch, she opens her eyes slightly to glare at Clint. "Futz you Barton." She says in a voice that reflects exactly how she feels. Which is, like shit.

"Good to see you too Hawkeye." Clint responds. He lifts her head up and puts a pillow underneath and sits on the couch next to her giving her a very concerned look. "I called Billy."

"Why are you going to have an intervention or something." Kate murmurs putting her hand up above her head to slightly cover her eyes. Clint hands her an aspirin and a glass of water which she takes. When she puts it down she continues "I'm fine."

"I didn't realize fine included you passing out in my apartment drunk almost every day this week." Clint fires back. Kate groans and gives him the finger again.

"Futz off." Kate says a little more bark backing it up this time. It causes Lucky's head to pop up from his dog bed to stare at them. As far as all of them are concerned this is about the most Kate's spoken in weeks.

"Talk to me Hawkeye." 

"I thought feelings weren't your thing." Kate mutters. She sits up slightly. Clint thinks maybe it's her willing to talk but she just takes the pill bottle off the coffee table to take a few more. 

"Girlie calm down I don't want you to O.D." Clint jokes.

Silence follows and Kate is hesitant before finishing the glass of water and taking the pills in her hand. She doesn't say anything for a long time. 

That's when it clicks. Clint takes the bottle off the table and looks at Kate. "Oh my god. Don't tell me that's what you're trying to do."

Kate still says nothing. 

Clint doesn't know what to do next. Does he call Tony and tell him what's going on? Scott? The rest of the Young Avengers for crying out loud? He doesn't do any of those things. Instead he puts his hand on Kate's, who still hasn't lied back down yet and decides telling Iron Man how much of a failure he is at mentoring is not the best thing to do in the situation.

So he waits for Kate to finally say something.

And when she does it's clear that she's not prepared in any possibility to actually speak. The tears come first followed by a series of words so muffled Clint wonders if he accidentally did something to the hearing aids. After a few minutes of Kate trying to pull herself back together she says:

"What are we doing Clint?" She motions around the room. At the discarded ramen packets, the coffee stains, the dog hair, take out boxes, bear bottles, all of it. "We aren't equipped for this. For being fucking superheroes." Kate dropping the f-bomb instead of saying futz was new. It meant something was seriously wrong. Something's spinning in Bishop's head.

Kate continues giving Clint a minute to process what she said "I mean look at us. We're disasters. The only reason I'm not covered in bandaids and you're not half dead is because I've been drunk so often and you've been babysitting me. And none of it's even worth anything. We're not like Captain Marvel, or Iron Man or even futzing Spiderman. We run around with bows and arrows and we almost futzing die. We should be dead by now and somehow we're not."

That's when Clint realizes that's what this is all about. Everytime Kate gets like this it's because of one thing. The event deemed as the Children's Crusade. Wiccan and Speed got their mother back but the team, and Kate, lost something more.

"It should have been me Clint." Kate says finally "Of all of us we could've lost I'm the one who nobody needs. I'm just plain old boring Hawkeye."

"Hey!" Clint replies defensively. Kate gives him a slight smile. Well that's something. "I'd like to think that us Hawkeyes are more than our injuries."

Another smile. Slight, barely there but Clint can see it. She wipes some tears from her face and then continues her spiel. "I don't have superpowers, I barely have training. Cassie, she could've been a futzing Avenger. A real one. It's my fault too. I was team leader. It wasn't official but everyone looked to me for leadership, and I let Cassie die." The tears return, harder, and she reaches for a Budweiser can Clint left out on the coffee table that he quickly takes away.

"You don't need that Girlie." Clint says "'sides it tastes like crap anyways." He finishes off the can and shakes it to make sure there's nothing left before tossing it over the back of the couch. Then he rests Kate's head against his chest and wraps his arms around her awkwardly because emotions and hugging have never been his thing. He's convinced that her tears are going to mess up his shirt but it doesn't matter. He just let's her cry.

After what feels like an eternity of Kate crying and Clint holding her he here's a muffled "Thanks Hawkeye." He knows Bishop hates asking for help. Maybe even more than he does. And she hates it more than admitting she's wrong. So when she says "I was wrong. Thanks for helping." Clint is astonished. It's probably one of the highest forms of praise he's ever gotten from the younger archer. 

"Anytime Hawkeye." He replies debating if the next step is to give her back the bow and see what happens next. That's always worked for him. After all he is the older, wiser and now slightly less disastrous Hawkeye. 

[downeysgirl94]

Field Trip  Ch. 9 of Cure for Nightmares

Peter walked tiredly into his science classroom sitting down quickly next to Ned. Peter put his head on the desk.

“Hey man you ok?” Ned asked glancing at him

“Yeah I’m fine just a bit tired was out a bit late patrolling” peter responded in a whisper

Ned nodded, and peter grabbed out his notebook and textbook and prayed class wouldn’t last forever.

 When the bell rang Peter quickly gathered his stuff and was about to head to the door when his teacher made an announcement to the class.

“Before you guys rush out of here, I need to hand out permission slips for our annual field trip.”

“Where are we going?” a random student asked

“We got a special treat this year we are getting a special tour of The Avengers Compound.”

Peter immediately sighed he had a field trip to somewhere he goes on an almost daily basis.

“The field trip is next Friday so making sure you gets these signed by then.” His teacher said handing them out

As if on cue

“Hey penis I guess were finally going to see that you full of it when none of the avengers recognize you.” flash shouted at him as he walked out

Peter just looked at the permission slip and shook his head. While leaving class and walking to lunch he messaged tony

Hey can I come by today?

Tony responded about a minute later

Sure kid I’ll have Happy pick you up.

The rest of the day went by in a blur peter couldn’t stop thinking about the field trip.

Once he walked out of the school he saw happy there waiting with a smile on his face.

“Hey kid hop in, can’t wait to hear your nonstop talking” Happy said with a grin

Peter got in the car sighing

They were driving for a bit peter was responding anytime happy asked him anything but was not his usual talkative self.

“Hey Pete something up normally your talking my ear off by now?” happy asked

“I’m fine just tired I was out late patrolling yesterday so didn’t get enough sleep” peter responded

“Yeah me and tony noticed you like staying out late lately but you still need sleep don’t want May freaking on you again” happy said seeming to accept his answer

Peter nodded in understanding and sighed in relieve.

Once they arrived at the compound peter got out of the car quickly waved bye to Happy and walked onto the Elevator and headed towards the lab.

Once peter exited the elevator he walked to the lab saw tony mesmerized by his suits. Peter threw his backpack off his shoulder to alert tony he was there.

“Hey Pete sorry was in tinkerland” tony said with a chuckle

Peter wasn’t laughing he just went and sat near the work bench and sighed

“Kiddo what’s up what got you down?”  Tony asked considered walking over to him

“Why did you give my class a field trip here tony? And better yet why didn’t you tell me about it so I wasn’t blindsided by my teacher” peter asked annoyed

“Pete I totally forgot about doing that I was doing it for one another just because you’re here a lot doesn’t mean others don’t get too see here I know your school is full of gifted youngsters so I thought your science class would enjoy it.” tony said simply

“You guys will embarrass me you guys always do” peter said sadly

“I will not and ill will tell the others not to as well or they be kicked out, happy?” tony said smiling

“Makes me feel a bit better but I don’t think I can trust them” peter said shrugging

“I’ll make sure we all do our best ok tell them go with intern story again ok” tony said smirking

“Thanks dad but to be honest if you don’t show your face around me on the tour that probably be for the best” peter said quietly

“Pete I’m hurt you don’t want your class to see me? I’m one of the most important avengers” tony said pretending to be hurt

“No I just know you will embarrass me somehow if were in the same room as each other” peter said grinning

Tony smirked “ok kiddo I’ll try not to interrupt the tour happy?”

“Very thank you” peter said

Ok kiddo now that’s out of the way lets grab some food I’m starved.

Tony led him to the elevator.

They spent the rest of the night snacking and watching movies.

Once Tony dropped peter off at home he asked May to sign the permission slip.

 The day of the field trip arrived way quicker than peter would have liked. His talk with tony relaxed him slightly but didn’t help the nervousness he was felling right now. His teacher collected everyone’s permission slip and they all boarded a bus heading to Upstate New York to The Compound.  The ride seemed like it took twice as long as it did when he would go with Happy.  Luckily Ned and MJ were with him otherwise it would be a nightmare.

Peter sat with MJ and Ned sat close by on the bus. They both knew how nervous he was and were trying to talk about unrelated topics to distract him.

“Hey peter what’s your opinion of the Last Jedi? Does it betray the original star wars trilogy?” Ned asked

“I wouldn’t say it betrays the original ones but it definitely was my least favorite one” peter answered honestly

“Wow even worse than the prequels?”

“That’s debatable” peter said shrugging

Michelle rolled her eyes.

Ned was about to say something else when Flash interrupted him.

“So penis you claim to be a what? personal intern to tony stark?  Were about to learn the truth I can’t wait to watch you freak.” Flash said laughing

“Flash get lost did we ask for you two sense no so bye” MJ said bluntly

Flash just stared at her for a minute than sat down.

MJ turned to peter “ignore the idiot he’s just jealous”

Peter nodded. So much for not being nervous as they pulled up to the compound they used a different entrance than he usually did.

As they walked into the lobby of the compound his class was all filled with awe but peter had been here before again not as often as other parts as the compound so he kept his mouth shut.

A receptionist it seemed like greeted them.

“Hello Midtown Tech my name is Sarah and welcome to the Avengers Compound. First thing we need to do is get each one of you a security badge.”

She handed everyone a badge besides peter that of course always had one but rarely needed it because Friday recognized him.

“Make sure your badge can be seen at all times Happy is a stickler for that kind of thing never know when he’ll show up.” Sarah said with a chuckle

“Hey peter didn’t get a badge” flash called out which made Sarah turn

“Hey Pete you got yours right?” she asked

“Yeah right here thanks Sarah” he pulled it out of his bag and put it on his shirt.

Flash was staring gaping mouth for a second, which made peter grin.

As they began walking through the security check point Friday started scanning all the badges. And reading aloud identities.

“Sarah Abrams clearance level 5”

She directed the rest though

“Guest Clearance level 2” Friday kept saying until they got to peter

“Peter Parker Clearance Level 10” Friday stated

His class looked at him confused. Flash was literally speechless.

Sarah directed them to the Training room first which peter crossed his fingers hopping Natasha and Clint were not there currently. Of course when his group walked in not only was black widow and Hawkeye there so was Captain America. Peter sighed. Natasha was in the middle of fighting Steve, Clint was rooting her on. He glanced up and saw the class and walked over.

“I thought Stark mentioned a tour but I thought he was just messing with us like usual” Clint said with a smirk glancing at peter

“Well now that you’re here this is where we all train or I should rephrase get our butts kicked by black widow over there” Clint added

As if on cue she got Steve down to the matt.  The class cheered which made Clint laugh

Natasha helped Steve up and then joined Clint with the group.

“You guys do not want a go around with her she’s deadly” Steve said laughing

“Don’t you forget it” Natasha replied “if you guys want to learn some basic defense I can teach you” she added

Most of the student’s hands rose besides peter and MJ. But of course

“Peter come on you’ll be a perfect demonstration for them” Natasha pleaded

“Nat I don’t think it’s a good idea remember what stark said” Steve said into her ear

“Come on Pete it will be fun” Clint added

Finally slightly embarrassed peter nodded and followed Natasha back to the mat. When she lunged at him he easily Held his own pushing Nat back a bit, by the end he let her win since he didn’t want his classmates to know how strong he was.  She helped him up and smiled

“Wasn’t that fun? Well I think you got to move on to the next part of the tour but I’ll see you tonight Pete” she said walking to the showers

“Yeah kid was a blast seeing you knocked on your head” Clint said laughing

Before they left the training room they were allowed to ask Steve and Clint questions

Of course the first hand was flash’s

“Is pen- Peter really a personal intern for tony stark?” he nearly shouted

“Of course he is I’ve never seen stark grown so attached to a kid but once he hired Pete he always a constant presence. Clint said chuckling

“yeah Tony loves bouncing ideas off the kid even asked him for help when he stuck on projects peter is always willing to help.” Steve added

Flash shut up real quick after a few other questions Clint and Steve waved goodbye as they moved on through the compound visiting different floors before they got to the labs.

Peter’s day hadn’t been as bad as he imagined it but he knew it could just get worse he just hoped Tony would keep his promise and not show his face. But of course nothing could go his way could it.

As they walked into the main lab they saw Bruce Banner working on a computer before he noticed the guests enter. Bruce noticed peter immediately and gave him a grin.

“Hey Pete, is this your gang from your genius school?”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah peter has told me of all the gifted kids from midtown so Tony was sure to make sure to have a stop in the main lab” Bruce said grinning

“You guys are welcome to explore the lab but do not touch a thing I rather not have tony ring my neck” Bruce said laughing

The class began exploring looking at different iron man armors or other projects tony seemed to work on. The main lab was huge so of course they were there awhile

Ned walked over to peter

“Hey if this is the lab where is Tony you said when you’re over your always tinkering with him” Ned asked

“This isn’t the only lab Tony’s got a private one only me and him have access to I guarantee that’s where he is now” peter said

“Oh ok makes sense otherwise we be seeing a lot more amour and your suits” Ned whispered

Peter nodded.

Sarah asked “does anyone have any questions for Dr. Banner?”

Hands rose before Bruce picked a hand the doors opened and Tony walked in with a smirk on his face.

“Brucey who’s all your friends I thought I was in charge of parties here?” tony said with a chuckle

Peter knew it was too good to be true when tony showed up and smirked at him

“Look at all the egg heads that peter brought with him” tony said grinning “if you are all half as smart as he is then the future is in good hands”

Peter blushed.

“So what was I interrupting Bruce?” tony asked

“Kids were about to ask me some questions” Bruce replied

“Excellent ask any questions for me ask well” tony said making eye contact with peter.

Multiple hands shot up and of course Flash’s did as well.

“What is it like having Captain America under your roof again?”

“Never boring but again living with all the avengers makes life here interesting.” Tony said with a laugh

When he called on flash he prepared for the worst.

“Is it true Peter is your personal intern?” flash asked

“Of course it’s true Pete is an amazing worker and I’m lucky to have him” tony said give peter a warm smile.

Once the questions were finished the class left the lab to have a break for food.

Siting outside the compound with Ned and MJ, Peter was taking a bite of an apple

When Flash walked over to them. None notice tony followed the group out.

“Ok you got to spill right now what the hell was that Penis? How did you get them all to play along?”

Peter was about to say something when Tony showed up out of nowhere looking pissed and stepped towards Flash

“Excuse me what in the hell did you just call him?” tony sounded furious

“Umn. It was just a joke sir...” flash said quietly

“If I ever hear anything about you bullying my kid again ill make sure no college accepts you, you hear me?” tony said still pissed

Peter was embarrassed but at the same time smiled at the time tony call him his kid.

“Yes sir” Flash said looking away.

“Good, hey Pete come with me” tony said

Tony stopped quickly and whispered something to Sarah

Peter got up and followed tony back into the compound.

Once inside tony looked at peter directly

“Pete when you told me Flash was an ass you weren’t kidding” tony said sighing “why didn’t you tell me he was still bullying you?”

“I don’t know it didn’t really bother me and he stopped for a bit after I told him off before he only really started again because of the field trip.” Peter said shrugging

“so you didn’t want him to get any other ideas besides that you work for me that’s why you were so worried before” tony said raising an eyebrow” well I just called you my kid to his face sorry I screwed the pooch on that one” tony said chuckling

“Tony your fine I know for a fact after what you did he never bully me again you were scary out there” peter said with a grin

“Well good watch you back kid” tony said laughing

“Well thanks though you’re basically my dad nice of you to stand up for Me.” peter said smiling

“Of course Pete” tony said with a smile and pulled peter into a hug.

A few moments later tony let go.

“Well I guess I’ll be back tomorrow right?” peter said heading for the door

“Nope I let the tour guide know that you were staying here when the bus leaves you coming over tomorrow anyways why not, I already let May know” tony said

“Sweet that’s awesome” peter followed tony to the elevator

“I sure the others have great stories to tell me from the parts of the tour I didn’t get to see” tony said with a grin.

Peter’s smiles dropped slightly “will the embarrassment ever end? “

“Not when I’m involved it won’t” tony said smiling.

[lovelyirony]

Chalant Isn’t a Word, Is It?

@polar-biscuit had this beautiful art of nat seeing maria in the gym and pausing so i wrote something about it 

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton signed up for additional sparring sessions because a.) They got kicked off field duty for about six weeks due to bringing sandwiches on board and nearly getting spotted by the enemy and b.) Clint wanted to listen to Rocky and it was only justified during sparring sessions because the overseer was a Rocky nut. Natasha didn’t mind the soundtrack, or getting a refresher course on boxing. Her fighting dealt more with the faster and more graceful way of fighting—not using your hands. Hands transferred DNA, and Natasha would much prefer her DNA with her at all times.

It was actually pretty relaxing for the both of them to be able to train and fight without any actual expectations or time limits. They could work on cool fight moves that would never be used in real life situations, such as the Rave Pinwheel of Death, and Holy Shit—Lasers! Natasha was actually laughing by the end of the sessions, and Clint learned a lot more about his friend—some things expected, others not so much.

Maria Hill is known throughout SHIELD for many reasons, the first and foremost being that she’s the youngest Deputy Director they’ve ever had, and she’s the first female one since SHIELD started. But people sneer as they say her name, calling her a bitch or a snob. She keeps to herself, has a neutral expression, and no one actually knows what she does outside of her job. She’s always one of the last to leave, first to arrive. Coulson’s theory is that she’s a robot, but he would never let her hear that or his coffee creamer would no longer be in stock.

But yes, she’s known throughout the agency for many reasons. There is one more, because Natasha has let her guard down, and she pauses for a split-second when she sees Maria Hill wrapping her hands in tape, sports bra and Nike shorts on. Maria is never seen outside of her jumpsuit, and it’s a rare opportunity for Natasha to see Maria past her professional persona. She looks, for as long as she can before Maria’s head starts to turn and Natasha quickens her pace by a second.

“Oh my god,” Clint says. “You like her.”

“Shut up,” Natasha snaps. “You saw nothing.”

“I saw everything besides you actually waving or saying hi. Why not? You could’ve gotten out there, asked her how she was doing.”

“She looked busy.”

“She was stretching. No one’s too busy with stretching to not talk with Black Widow.”

And there’s the crux of the problem. Natasha doesn’t want Maria to talk to the Black Widow. She wants her to talk to Natasha. But it won’t matter, because Maria probably has better things to do with her time. Natasha doesn’t know what she’d do. Watch movies. Cook pasta. Anything else, because Natasha is secretly not Suave At All or Sexy, She Doesn’t Even Know How to Pose Outside of her Job. (Clint keeps mentioning she can T-Pose?)

Clint starts annoying her. “There’s Hill,” he signs, making the hand go in the shape of a hill. Wow, he’s so smart. Natasha can’t believe the CIA rejected him. “Look, its Maria. You should go talk to her.”

“Clint I swear I will make sure your dumb locker decorations go missing.”

“Not my mini shag carpet!” Clint exclaims in mock horror. Maria Hill glances their way. Clint grins and waves. Natasha hopes her face is impassive as she arches an eyebrow. Maria nods. Natasha elbows Clint in the ribs as she walks off to go get changed into gym gear.

The climax of all this is when Clint falls sick—Natasha told him that the shady pizza place that opened across his street was a money laundering front and definitely not a “sign from God, that beautiful lady finally loves me,” like he thought it was.

Natasha goes to the punching bags and treadmill. She’s not going to skip out on the gym, even if she could technically drop by a coffee shop and get her favorite drink with two shots of espresso and vanilla.

Usually, she gets into the gym at ten in the morning. It is early enough that she doesn’t feel like she’s been wasting her life until that point, but late enough that Clint doesn’t complain about wanting to die every five seconds. Maria gets to the gym at two in the afternoon. But Maria Hill is at the gym at ten o’clock, hair tied back in a bun, tape wrapped around her arms and hands, and a towel around her neck. Natasha kind of hates the fact that she’s going to have to work out and also be in the presence of her crush. Life is supremely unfair.

“Good morning Romanoff,” Hill says curtly. “Where’s Hawkeye?”

See, that’s the thing that Natasha likes. Maria Hill never calls her Black Widow. She calls her Romanoff. Nat likes that. “Barton’s home with food poisoning as company,” Natasha answers. “Shady pizza places will be his resting place.” Maria spares a smile as she surveys the gym.

“Wanna spar?”

“Sure,” Natasha says, nonchalantly. But she’s so chalant about it. So fucking chalant. Is that even a word? It’s not, but it should be.

They stare at each other across the mats. Natasha is assessing weaknesses, strengths, everything. Maria’s eyes are like an eagle’s watching everything. They launch towards each other, and Natasha is surprised when Maria pulls a sharp left, causing Natasha to rebalance herself when landing. She finds that she likes the fact that Maria is now already so unpredictable.

They fight well together. There are a few hiccups—there have to be—but Maria and Nat understand each other. They even get a couple jokes and compliments in between water breaks. “You just never lose a night of sleep over your capabilities, do you?” Maria asks, breathing hard. “Jesus, your feet are like tiny little stabbing tools…”

“Size six,” Natasha says. “I can show you how to make them feel like knives later.”

“I’d like that,” Maria responds, a rare smile curving her face. Natasha thinks that is when she looks the best. Sometimes, Maria smiles and things are good. Natasha nearly smiles back.

“You can show me how you do that bitch stare at Sitwell,” Natasha says. “He hates it.”

“That’s why I do it, that prick,” Maria says. “Jasper’s such a dick.”

“God, I know. He keeps trying to get me to his team of all-men-who-can-talk-about-grills-for-three-hours-straight,” Natasha comments. Maria snorts.

“They really can.”

Maria joins the sparring sessions. She laughs more. Natasha and Maria joke.

And then IT happens.

The six weeks are up, and Natasha is kind of panicking because she liked hanging out with Maria, and now she’s going to be doing missions and not seeing Maria. So sure, Natasha might be panicking about not being friends with Maria anymore or being close, like maybe they’ll drift apart and Natasha was so close to asking her to hang out and maybe eat noodles or something—

It shouldn’t matter. It does, but it shouldn’t. So Natasha steels herself for sharing quick glances across the hallway with Maria Hill—Deputy Director Hill—and leaves it be. Clint knows not to talk to her for a couple hours. She needs her space. “I’m getting Chinese tonight, text me if you want any,” he had said before going down to the weaponry to break in a new long-range crossbow they had ordered special.

Maria finds her. Natasha is leaving—fifteen minutes earlier than she usually does. And Maria, the last one to leave, finds her. “Wait up Romanoff,” Maria says. She’s actually hurrying, doing that awkward fast-walk thing so she doesn’t have to flat out run. Natasha’s heart speeds up, and she doesn’t try to calm down in the slightest.

“What am I waiting for?” Natasha asks. (The irony of her asking that question kills her.) Maria smiles, although grimaces at the last second.

“I, um, wanted to talk to you. About something.” Natasha has faced down killers. Men who want nothing more than power and little else. Women who would laugh and drink wine as the world ended. Maria’s simple phrasing shouldn’t terrify her. (But it does, oh fucking hell, it does.)

“Shoot,” Natasha says, trying to act as casual about it. “Talk about the something.” Natasha doesn’t know when she’ll stop sounding awkward, but here she is. Still sounding like she’s an awkward twelve year old.

They’re to the side of everyone, out of earshot and peering cameras. (Leave it to Maria to know where cameras don’t record.) She looks nervous and tense. Natasha really hopes this isn’t some emotional outpouring that’s negative or something similar.

“So um,” Maria starts. “Jesus Christ, I can’t fucking talk,” she mutters. “Look, I’m going to be real with you. I liked hanging out with you a lot. I’ve never really done anything like that. Fighting while talking. They usually just think I’m a bitch and don’t talk.”

“You’re funny,” Natasha says. “You have a terrible sense of humor, but it’s funny.” Maria smiles at that. “So, what else is up? Surely you didn’t just come to tell me that you liked hanging out.”

Maria nods, taking a breath in. Not letting it back out. She’s more nervous than Nat thought. “I liked hanging out, and I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee. On Thursday. Because we both have a couple hours to kill because Coulson has to terrify some of the new agents into complying with his pamphlet about office safety.”

Natasha lets out a smile that has Maria let out an even wider smile, and she says “sure, why not? There’s this coffee shop a couple blocks up that I’ve been dying to try.” Maria smiles, nods quickly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Romanoff.”

“Looking forward to it.”

And if Natasha grins like a maniac and has a little bit more energy in her steps, only Barton really knows.

[kjs-s]

When you need a laugh

Pairing   Clint Barton x reader (romantic or platonic)

Prompt I’m a nurse and it’s my first ever shift and you’re my first ever patient but you keep telling funny jokes and making me laugh and you’re basically the only reason I'm not crying in the corridor. Nurse AU!   

Word Count: 1326

Warnings:  mention of broken arm

A/N: This is my entry for @redgillan 6k challenge.  I hope you like it.

@writing-journeyx   @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse @ohyesmarvel​ @agentpeggicarter  @buckys-fossil @romantichen @once-upon-an-imagine @locke-writes @lucetheding @marveliskindacool @captainrogerss   @jurassicbarnes @uncomfortable-writers @theassetseyeliner​ @sgtbxckybxrnes​ @thetherianthropydaily @dresupi @caplansteverogers @captainrogerss

‘’Thanks for the tour of the hospital Claire. I am sure I will remember where everything is and I won’t bother you with too many questions.''  You hoped you wouldn't get lost during your first shift.

''You can ask as many things as you want (Y/N).  We can tell you are nervous but don’t worry. We understand that your first day will be a little difficult. It takes time to adjust to a new environment so the workload won't be too much.'' She led you to the nurses' station in which you will take your breaks.  

''As I told you the orthopedic department is one floor up. You will meet the chief nurse there. Her name is Dana Jones. She will tell you a few things about how the department is being run and she will give you a chart for your first patient. I will meet you here at the end of your shift if you want to eat with the rest of us. Good luck on your first day (Y/N).''  

You found the chief nurse easily and you tried really hard to not show her how nervous you were. All the training you had done were by shadowing others and that would be the first time you were on your own.  

''Hi miss Jones, I'm (Y/N) the new orthopedic nurse. I was told to come find you about a patient I will be assigned to. And to ask for any more details about my shift. I wasn't told much during my interview for the job.'' You were rubbing your hands together and you looked at all the files at your boss's desk.

She stood up and shook your hand.

''It's nice to meet you (Y/N). Your professor sent an outstanding letter of recommendation for you and judging from his enthusiasm you will be a value in our hospital.'' She handed you a file for the patient you would be treating.

''This will be your first patient for today. All you have to do is take his medical history and wait for doctor Campell to come over. He might need your assistance in examining the patient. When you are done come find me so I can introduce you to some of the other doctors who you would work with.''

You glanced in the first page of the file in your hand and noticed the term frequent flyer and a note for discretion. You were perplexed by it but decided to not ask about it. The only thought in your brain was how can somebody be a frequent flyer in the orthopedic unit. What does this Mr. Costello have, fragile bones or something?'' What you were about to experience never crossed your mind.  You were thanking God all you had to do was ask some question about this guy's history. Nothing to worry about.  

You knocked on the door and entered room 407. You tried to sound as professional as possible and not show your patient that you were anxious about messing up somehow.

''Hello Mr. Costello, I am (Y/N) the nurse assigned to you. Will you let me ask you a few questions to see what we are dealing with here?'' You tried to fake your brightest smile to hide your nervousness from the half sleeping man with the obviously broken arm. However, you kept staring at him because he looked familiar.

''Well (Y/N), you seem to not know who I am and that wounds me deeply. I'm Clint Barton, you know Hawkeye, an Avenger I'm sure you are thrilled to meet me. But please don’t ask to meet the others the last person I captured kept asking to meet Black Widow in a creepy way. He made me want to punch him but I was sure Cap wouldn't like it.'' He looked at your face that portrayed that you had lost your train of thoughts.  

''Ok back to our business here. I am mostly fine, just need a doctor to wrap my arm and if can make sure they send the cute one that is fast at it I am a little tired. Are you feeling fine you look a little like you have no idea what I'm talking about.'' He looked concerned for you, even though you were there to look after him.

''I was supposed to take your medical history Mr. Barton, and I know exactly who you are. You once fell down my building yelling ''I know this looks bad but nothing is wrong'', caught the lamp post to stop the fall, turned around and asked to pet my dog. You can't forget that.'' The memory made you laugh for the first time in the anxiety-filled day you were having.

''But I still need to do my job and write down why you are here and if you have any previous medical history.''

''Trust me it's all in there. I don't want to bore you with how many times I have been here, besides that's not the real reason you are here. They always send new nurses to me because I'm the easiest patient and that helps take the edge of the first shift of. One time they didn't and the poor guy ended up crying in the corridor.'' He yawned and showed you the chair.

''So just sit down and relax for a while. I will be fine. My arm broke because I was trying to move around in the vents to prank Tony and I didn’t notice one was open so I fell down.'' You laughed and immediately apologized.

''No problem. Besides I am also here to entertain. And for the record is something was bad I would be screaming and since I'm not everything is fine. Just if you can turn the lights down a little bit. You see one of the reasons I'm here too many times is that in a place filled with people there is always noise. But here, a can finally for the peace and quiet I need for a good night's sleep.'' He yawned to emphasize the need for a dimmer light.

''You come here to sleep? Why don't you find a more reasonable solution?''

''Too much trouble. I sometimes yell at the phone for ringing, can you imagine having a house of my own that people will call me? And I won't have others pick up so I will have to get up. No way.''

You agreed with him because you too hate the sound of the phone ringing and after checking that you had spent almost an hour in Clint's room you stood up to leave.

''I can imagine the doctor will be here soon. I will leave now to tend to other patients. I was nice to meet you Clint.''

''You too (Y/N). And the next time I will bring pizza with me.'' You were a little surprised by his proposal but you couldn’t deny finding him charming.

''I will try to find some time for you. My favorite toppings are sausage and extra cheese.''

''I actually meant that you would bring your dog by so I can pet him on the way in. But of course, I can bring pizza for you too. I would love to see you again.'' As soon as you cleared the details of your pizza date and Clint meeting your dog, doctor Campbell walked it to treat Clint. It turned out he was the fast one Clint was hoping for so after only five minutes you two left him to sleep. You were really happy with how your shift started and by the end of it, you were comfortable around the hospital. Claire even invited you to go drinking with her and some more nurses on your day off.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Something Old and Something New - Chapter 5: It’s All Coming Together

A few weeks after she and Margaret get roped into Hawkeye and Trapper's little scheme, Kat comes home to a flurry of pink tulle blanketing the living room. In the center of the hurricane is Maggie – wielding a pair of scissors with gleeful abandon.

“Margaret, honey, what are you doing?”

Margaret looks up from her shears with a dangerous smile. “Exacting revenge.”

“Oh yeah?” Kat says in her best mobster voice. “Do I gotta send someone to sleep with the fishes?” And then in her normal voice. “I know some good piers to push people off of, Maggie, don't you worry. Whoever made that dress will never sew again, I promise.”

“No shoving people off of piers.” Margaret mock scolds. “It's pointless anyway, I bought it at a department store – and you can't shove the entire women's department of Kresge's off a pier.”

Kat's expression says just watch me, but what she actually says is, “Ok, no taking things out on the innocent shop clerks. Who do you really want to suffer?”

Margaret's response is immediate and full of invective. “Private Scully.”

Kat looks at her questioningly.

“You know,” Margaret insists, “that sonofabitch I dated after Ponobscott. Though I haven't exactly kept track of him - he may still be in Asia for all I know – so finding him to push off a pier may be difficult.”

Kat looks ready to attempt it regardless. Margaret really does love how far she's willing to go to take care of and protect her – even if these threats are mostly empty.

“Anyway the last time I wore this dress, it was for that dud of a soldier – and when I found it, I got so mad at him all over again. The inconsiderate fink.”

Part of it may have been that Margaret had found the dress completely accidentally. She'd actually been looking for a winter coat that had gotten shoved into the spare bedroom closet – a sort of overflow for her and Kat's closet that mostly houses out-of-season clothes and boxes of the kind of stuff you need to keep but don't want to trip over everyday. And in one of those boxes was the dress.

Just opening it and seeing that shade of pink had brought back that whole sorry episode. Suddenly, she was back in Korea – back with Scully and all the feelings of inadequacy and loneliness and longing he'd evoked.

Margaret isn't generally one for sentimentality – or at least that's what she tells herself. Growing up as an army brat didn't really allow for attachments to places, possessions, or people. And her father hadn't approved of womanly histrionics.

But the memories associated with it aren't exactly rose tinted. And Margaret is certainly one for holding a grudge. So when she'd found that dress. Well. There was really only one way to react.

“I just – I was spitting mad. Do you know what he wanted me to do? Do you, Kat? He wanted me to keep house with him if you can believe it – in the middle of an army camp I was in charge of running the nursing staff for!” Margaret puffs up in indignation. “He may have been on leave, but I certainly wasn't!”

“Uh huh,” Kat nods, “he sounds like a real charmer. So where does the dress come in? He want you to put it on and play wife?”

Margaret growls in frustration. “And then some. He said he couldn't see me as a real woman in army drag, wouldn't make time for me if I didn't put in the effort to look human – look womanly and sweet and welcoming. And stupid me! I wanted him – wanted someone - enough that I did it. This dress was the only civilian outfit I owned and he wanted to see me in it – wouldn't take no for an answer - no matter that I was too busy to play dress up or cook his food or do any of the other little domestic tasks he asked of me. So I put it on for him.”

“What a delightful man,” Kat says, sarcasm sharp enough to cut. “Kind, considerate of your feelings, attentive – what more could one ask for in a lover? Why, I'm surprised the two of you aren't still together.”

“He was a real loser,” Margaret agrees. “Which is why I'm taking my revenge!”

Margaret brandishes the scissors to emphasize her point and Kat backs away surreptitiously.

Maggie's always been an expressive person when she feels she's allowed. And it's nice that she's unwound enough around Kat to show that side of herself again instead of just buttoning everything up behind that inspection-ready front she'd worn since joining the army. Not letting anything show through the cracks until she got pushed far enough that the facade crumbled and she collapsed.

But despite her excitement, Maggie seems to remember that waving sharp objects around her face isn't the best idea. Which Kat is grateful for. Because despite them both being nurses and able to deal with various minor injuries and ailments, Kat really doesn't fancy having to sew up stab wounds this afternoon. It's the sort of thing that kills the mood.

At any rate, Maggie goes back to her dress demolition with a little less wild abandon than before. And Kat joins her, sitting cross-legged on the floor like a kid with piles of tulle piling in snowdrifts around her. There are certainly worse ways of spending an evening, after all.

After some almost meditative destruction, Margaret says, “I do feel sort of bad cutting it up.” After all, Max worked so hard to make it look nice and fit her better. Lost cause though it had been.

Kat peers closely at the fabric. “It is a nice shade of revenge.”

“Just not my style, I suppose. But maybe it'll be Charles and Marjory's.”

--

A few months or so after he gets invited to Charles's wedding, Steve heads down to Boston for a poker game. The last few had been called on account of snow, so he's looking forward to seeing Hawkeye and Trapper – and yes, even Charles – for the first time in a while.

The game's as good a time as ever, plenty of banter and good-natured ribbing. But Steve sort of feels like somethings different. And maybe it's just that he hasn't seen the others in a while – that he'd forgotten the rhythm of their jokes and repartee. But it also seems like maybe things are a little changed somehow. Like Charles is a little warmer, more friendly.

He'd never exactly struck Steve as the warm and cuddly type – especially to folks he'd thought he was better than. Which is most everybody, seems like. Hell, Charles hadn't started warming up to Steve til he found out he'd gone to Johns Hopkins – the snob.

That's not to say he's not a good friend, in his own way. Once you've befriended him, Charles will give you the silk shirt off his back - complaining heartily the whole time. So Steve guesses that what he's trying to say is that Charles's own way tends to be a little... stand-offish. And this is coming from the son of emotionally constipated Midwesterners.

But tonight, Charles is positively outgoing. Slapping Steve heartily on the back in greeting. Laughing and joking around in a way that's more lighthearted than snide. And then there's the fact that he won't shut up about his upcoming wedding – even though it's still months away.

It's sort of strange to think of Charles Winchester settling down. But he positively gushes about Marjory. About how beautiful and brilliant and wonderful she is. About how he can't believe he's lucky enough to get to marry her – to spend the rest of his life with her. Because he's not going to be the love 'em and leave 'em type, not with Marjory.

It makes Steve feel a little guilty.

He goes a little quiet, maybe. But Charles's unexpected jubilance ought to cover that over, right? Unfortunately, Steve isn't being quite subtle enough and Hawkeye and Trapper must pick up on it. Or at least Steve thinks they do.

They keep giving each other loaded glances over Charles's head – and not the kind of loaded glances they usually give each other. Or at least Steve hopes not since he's staying over at their house tonight on account of the late train not running in winter much and he'd rather not have to deal with his hosts screwing in the next room over. Not that they ever would, but if things are heading that way. Well. For politeness's sake, Steve would have to accept Charles's offer to put him up - despite it meaning that Steve would then have to spend even more time with him.

One evening is difficult enough. Particularly an evening like this which seems almost designed to make Steve feel guilty.

Fortunately, all Hawkeye and Trapper's looks seem to indicate is that they want to get home. So Steve follows them back to the house – and it's early enough still that he's not surprised when they herd him into the living room to sit and shoot the shit for a while. He is kinda surprised when Hawkeye slings his legs over Steve's lap and Trapper throws a companionable arm over his shoulders, effectively trapping him there with them.

“All right Steve, what's eating you?” Trapper asks.

And it would have been too much to hope that they weren't going to bring it up.

At least Trapper's question is born out of genuine concern. He pulls Steve closer to him and says, “You've been looking real morose all evening – and it ain't like you lost your life savings, cuz we don't play for cash without Margaret. So something's gotta be bugging you.”

“Something Charles Winchester related,” Hawkeye adds. “You kept looking at him out of the corner of your eye – and I doubt it's because you suddenly developed a schoolboy crush on him.”

The last is delivered teasingly and Steve laughs. “No, I'm more than happy with Millie. And Charles really isn't my type.”

“Too snotty,” Hawkeye says with a nod. “I completely understand.”

“It wedding related then?” Trapper asks. “Cuz there ain't that many reasons to be looking sideways at Charles.”

“Yeah, it's wedding related.” Steve sighs. “I guess I'm feeling kind of guilty about my part of the gift.”

“Yeah?” Trapper's giving Steve his full attention – and he wilts into Trapper's shoulder a little.

“Yeah.” Steve takes a breath. “Look, what are you guys doing for your quilt squares?”

“I'm sewing a Claddagh – you know, the hand and heart thing-” Trapper makes an approximation with his hands “-onto an old fatigue shirt.”

“Finally a good use for army issue duds,” Hawkeye interjects.

Trapper jerks a thumb at him. “And he's making some real pretty shit – go on and show him, Hawk.”

Hawkeye pulls out a piece of shimmery gray fabric with a wavy pattern of tiny copper leaves embroidered over most of it. It's absolutely beautiful. The kind of thing you treasure for years and pass down as an heirloom. Fuck.

“See, that's my problem. Everyone's doing these heartfelt traditional things – even you guys. And I was sure you were gonna take the opportunity to get one over on Charles. But you didn't, you did something sweet and meaningful and I'm. I'm just doing a joke.”

“You do know Sidney's doing a cross stitch that says “pull down your pants and slide on the ice” with little pink flowers around it, right?” Hawkeye asks.

That startles a laugh out of Steve. “Is he really?”

Steve turns to Trapper for confirmation and he nods. Sidney had called just last week and asked him and Hawkeye for advice on the appropriate level of twee-ness.

Hawkeye shakes his head fondly. “A fountain of profound wisdom, that man.”

“And he'd prolly tell you that Charles likes you for who you are – so you may as well embrace that. Make something personal, you know? It ain't like he's gonna be showing this off to all his snob friends, anyway. This is for us.”

Steve nods at that.

“Plus,” Hawkeye adds, “you're nuts if you think anything Margaret makes is gonna be tasteful.”

“Or Max.”

“Or BJ. I know for a fact that he's doing a really terrible pun on his.”

Steve smiles. “Thanks guys. I feel a lot better knowing how crass and terrible everyone else is being.”

Trapper slaps him heartily on the back. “That's us, crass and terrible.”

“He's crass, I'm terrible.”

“Where does that leave me then?”

“You can be thoughtless.”

“Gauche?” Trapper suggests.

“What about tasteless?”

“Wow, thanks fellas. You're really making me feel better about myself.” But Steve's got a smile on his face and Trapper figures he and Hawkeye have done their job. After a little longer chatting and joking around, they all sort of disentangle and go get ready for bed.

“BJ's doing a shitty pun, huh,” Trapper says as he and Hawkeye brush their teeth.

“That's what he said. Though he refuses to tell me what it is.” Hawkeye pouts around his toothbrush. “Tight lipped sonofabitch says I have to wait to see it in person. It better be one hell of a pun, that's all I can say.”

--

“Shit.”

“You stick yourself again, dear?”

BJ can hear the smothered laughter in Peg's voice even with her all the way in the kitchen.

“All I can say is, Charles had better appreciate the hell out of this present. I think I've given more blood for this thing than I did at the Red Cross blood drive.”

“Well, everyone knows it's the thought that counts. But I think it's coming along very nicely.” Even if Peg hadn't necessarily agreed with BJ's decision to make a pun rather than something more meaningful. But then again, she's not the one this is for – and she doesn't know Dr. Winchester's sense of humor or taste in presents. Doesn't know him at all except through BJ's stories about the man - and Hawkeye's letters about the wedding.

Of course, Max is the one actually coordinating things. But those letters tend to be focused on answering BJ's technical questions – and badgering him into having the quilt square done on time.

Hawkeye, on the other hand, is a wellspring of gossip. Who's making what, funny stories about wedding planning passed on from Marjory or Honoria, and Hawkeye's own opinions on the courting behavior of the upper-crust all feature in the nearly weekly reports from Boston. Along with descriptions of Hawkeye's day-to-day life.

This is something Peg has learned to be wary of, over the months since BJ came home. When Hawkeye starts being too candid – when he strays away from idle gossip and responding to BJ's own letters and starts talking about his life – his life with Trapper – that's when things get. Difficult.

And now there's the added wrinkle of BJ's feelings for Hawkeye. Feelings that may or may not be reciprocated. Feelings that Peg honestly isn't all that sure she knows how she feels about. Feelings that ought to make any mention of Trapper John McIntyre even more upsetting to BJ.

But it feels like the opposite has happened, in a way. With BJ able to put a name to what he's feeling – able to find a reason for his jealousy – he's lost a lot of that desperate, wild anger.

That's not to say that there haven't been some rough days. Days when BJ looks longingly at the liquor cabinet – emptied of bottom shelf gin since that last horrible night but still holding enough wine and scotch and whatever else to drown any kind of sorrow for a time. Or stoke any kind of anger. But on days like that, BJ has taken to going out with fellows from his motorcycle club - riding far too fast through the twisting mountain roads, until he can leave all his anger behind in the wind. And that brings its own sort of worry. But when he returns, his face raw with windburn and his eyes free of ghosts, Peg can't bring herself to tell him to stop.

And then there are the days when Peg finds BJ staring at old photographs from Korea like they hold the secrets of the universe rather than just images of himself and Hawkeye. Peg feels like maybe she ought to feel- she doesn't know, slighted somehow? Worried that her husband is so obviously in love with someone else, someone he'd known so intimately for so long? Because this isn't just a little fleeting crush, that much is obvious. BJ loves Hawkeye deeply. And with a love like that, well. What's left over for her?

But BJ isn't like that. He isn't going to leave her and the children. And as jealous and petty and silly about little things like emotional honesty as he can be, Peg knows there's enough love in her husband's heart for a hundred people, a thousand.

If it helps BJ, Peg can live with the shadow of Hawkeye Pierce in her house, in her bedroom, even – tucked under the covers between them, a breath passed between their lips when they kiss. He feels so real, from all of BJ's stories. Like he's always lived there. So it's not jealousy she feels. And, to be perfectly honest, Peg is rather looking forward to meeting the famous Hawkeye in person. To seeing if he's anything at all like the person she's built up in her mind.

So she had encouraged BJ to reach out to Hawkeye, to tell him some of what he's feeling – both to prepare him for the difficult conversation they're sure to have and to help BJ figure out what it is he actually wants to say when he has the opportunity. Because BJ is a good man and a wonderful husband, but he's really not very astute sometimes. And Peg wants this to work out – for all of their sake's.

BJ feels the same way, he says. And it's obvious that he's really honestly trying to figure things out, both with her and with Hawkeye.

And Peg thinks he's sort of latched onto the quilt project as a way of feeling connected to Hawkeye – and to a lesser extent, the other members of the 4077. It must be difficult for BJ, being the only one on the West coast. There's practically a little enclave in Boston – and Hawkeye makes it sound like there are regular meet ups with the rest of the folks living on the East coast. But BJ doesn't have anyone to meet up with, not who experienced the same things he did – who has that same understanding of the blood and the horror and the loss.

Peg can listen, of course. And BJ's started talking more about his time in Korea – something he'd initially shied away from, not that she can blame him. The stories he's telling now are full of more horrors than she could ever imagine. And that's the point – she can listen, but she can't understand. The only people who can really understand are the ones he went through those horrors with him.

So she's glad he's been able to keep his connection to Hawkeye – and she's looking forward to meeting him and the rest of BJ's friends from Korea in a few months.

--

A couple months before the wedding, Max starts getting quilt squares from all the 4077 folks. Plus Letta – and she's an honorary member of the MASH in Max's mind due to her tricking Dr. Winchester out of tons of money and then giving it all to a good cause. Anyone who can do that is worth bringing into the family, as it were.

And now that all the quilt pieces have arrived, its Max's job put them together.

She commandeers the dining room table – the largest flat surface in the apartment – earning a fond eye roll from Soon Li and excited curiosity from Seong. Max plops him in a chair on a towering stack of books so he can watch as she lays out the squares, moving them around to form something resembling a quilt. She'll sew everything up at the tailoring shop, but it'll help to get a good idea of what all she's working with before putting needle to cloth.

Fortunately, there's a sort of balance to the chaotic swirl of color and texture.

Margaret's pink monstrosity – which features golden swan appliques, the heads bent to form a heart shape with the necks – and Max's own gaudy Bedouin patchwork can sandwich the Padre's more sedate square – cream linen with black text and gold and silver embellishments. That all ties together nicely for the top row of the quilt. Max makes a note of their placement on her latest sketch.

Then Colonel Potter's log cabin square and Radar's prairie points obviously go with BJ's square. A nice little depiction of the 4077 signpost with the words “be it ever so rumble, there's no place like home.” Max laughs to herself as she notes that Radar's square forms a little hidden panel behind the inward pointing triangles – with a picture of two interlocking wedding rings quilted onto it – so she'll have to avoid sewing that over when she quilts the square. And that's the left side done.

Hawkeye and Trapper's squares stay together, obviously, to make up most of the bottom of the quilt. Steve's contribution – an anatomically correct heart with “home is where the heart is” emblazoned on it – goes between the two more sedate squares. And ain't that a kicker – Hawkeye making something beautiful and elegant instead of zany. Not that he doesn't have a touch of the romantic in him. But Max'd expected something more in line with Trapper's contribution. Meaningful but with a little bit of a sly dig in there. Hell, even the Father's choice of bible verse – all about humility and patience and love – could be read as a little something designed to take the wind out of Dr. Winchester's sails.

And Max isn't surprised at all by Sidney's contribution. And it's as good advice now as it was back in Korea. So she makes it the center of the final side of the quilt, bracketed by Letta's star pattern and Donna's interlocking wedding rings.

All that's left now is to fill in the gaps.

In addition to her own square, Max also made corner pieces with scraps of fabric left over from her other tailoring projects. And there's a center piece – with Dr. and Mrs. Winchester's names and the date of their wedding on it – made from some white satin taken from Max's own wedding dress. Soon Li didn't have any kind of emotional attachment to it and Max figures she's done getting hitched. And any kids they have that want to get married in a dress can get a brand new one courtesy of Max Klinger - professional tailor.

So with all the individual pieces done, all that's left is to sew everything together, slap a back on it, and quilt it so the stuffing don't fall out. Easy.

Well, not quite. She's got a few long nights ahead of her, trimming the pieces so they fit right together and join up square, then actually sewing everything together, then sewing batting and the back piece on with edge strips that have to be turned under and hemmed so no raw edges show, then quilting the whole thing in a pattern that both holds everything in place and also looks nice. It's a lot of work for sure – but she figures it'll be worth it to see the look on Dr. Winchester's face when he opens their present, sees what they've come together to make for him.

[lightsaberss]

The Meaning of Death Chapter 9

Initially this and chapter 8 were going to be one intertwined thing, but the events in chapter 8 felt better without interruption, and thankfully so did this. I hope you like it.

AO3 / FF.NET

The monotony of firearms recertification was over. The day to day monotony of Rebecca's life had been a point of annoyance over recent months, she missed being out in the field and feeling like she was actually making a difference, rather than just checking some guy that sat behind a desk all day could still handle his weapon, and yes, she had heard every possible innuendo it was possible to make about weapons and misfires. However, now it was a welcome distraction from the crazy.

The crazy being Riza coming back from the dead without any memories and then ending up followed by some weirdo, and let's not even talk about the creepy lab she'd taken Jean and Mustang to. Rebecca loved Riza like a sister, but she attracted crazy like no one else Rebecca had ever met in her life. Just look at Mustang.

Rebecca sat at one of the desks in Mustang's outer office and trawled through her share of the files of the soldiers who had been marked as either KIA or MIA on the Promised Day. Mustang's actual team (plus the Elric's) had been going through them all day, while also running the office and apologising for Mustang's sudden leave of absence. The official line was that he was ill, but Rebecca seriously doubted that anyone believed it, especially since gossip about Riza's return was beginning to spread.

File after file, after file, got compared to the grainy photograph of the man who had followed her and Riza around town, sat near them at lunch, and let them carry on with their lives. The thought that he was out there made her skin crawl, and she'd been silently relieved when Jean had offered to stay at hers, and it had given her a sense of security that would've been missing if she'd had to go home alone last night.

They all sat in silence, the sound of ruffling pages, and an occasional thump of files hitting either the floor or the desk were the only noises that filled the room. Eastern HQ slowly emptied as the day staff went home, and the skeleton crew night shift took up their stations, but they sat there until late into the night, when Jean finally pushed his files away.

"I need a break." He said. "I've done nothing but stare at these files all day. I'm done."

"I'm going to keep going." Edward said, not looking up from the file he was looking over. He had a notebook next to him where he'd scribbled some notes down.

"Me too." Alphonse agreed.

"Okay guys, your funeral." Jean said as he stood up and stretched. "I'll take the early shift, Breda. Fuery, don't stay here all night getting wired on coffee."

Rebecca would have kept going forever if she needed to, for Riza, she'd do a lot of things. But Jean had given her an out and she needed sleep, some food, and a hot shower. Not necessarily in that order. So she shrugged her uniform jacket back on, "I'll come as well. Night guys."

Goodbyes and orders given, even half heartedly, and Rebecca and Jean left HQ for her small apartment only twenty minutes walk away. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and they walked along in silence. Everything she wanted to say, every worry about Riza and what was going on, it couldn't be uttered out here in public. They knew now, that anyone could be listening to them, following them through the dark streets of the city to her home. She felt shivers go up her spine at the thought of it, and turned to look behind her just in case.

"No one's following us, princess." Jean said quietly. "You're okay."

"It's not me I'm worried about." Rebecca bristled at being caught out. "It's you. You're a delicate flower after all."

Jean laughed, and kissed the top of her head as they turned the corner onto her street. "Sure, Becca. I'm the one we need to worry about."

Rebecca half heartedly grumbled in response, she knew there was no way to win the argument. She'd been caught being paranoid, and as much as she hated to admit it, he wasn't who either of them were worried about. She was god only knew how many miles away doing god only knew what with Mustang. Rebecca hoped that they were bored, and not up to anything that she'd have to yell at Mustang about later, but she knew they'd both probably end up doing something stupid.

"Xingese food?" Jean asked.

"Huh?"

"Million miles away?" Jean asked.

"I was thinking about - y'know." She waved her hand as if that explained she was worried about Riza, about what she was doing with Mustang, about this guy that had followed them, and about this whole goddamn situation they'd all ended up in. Jean, thankfully, seemed to get it. Or at least seemed to get that it wasn't about him or anything he needed to worry about too much. He pulled her into a quick hug, and she let out a deep breath against his chest.

"How about I grab some food. You go home and do whatever girly shit you do when you get in, and I'll see you in bit?" Jean asked. "I'll get you those spring rolls you like."

"Girly shit?" Rebecca asked, a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Okay, fine, you win. Bring food, and who knows you might even get lucky."

"Might?" Jean asked, and wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis, which turned Rebecca's smirk into a full blown smile.

"Depends how good the spring rolls are." Rebecca pointed out. She kissed him quickly and sweetly on the mouth before she headed off to her apartment, and left him in search of food.

Rebecca's apartment was small, but functional, and she'd decorated it with girlish touches and frivolous bits and bobs since she'd moved in. She'd had the apartment since she'd graduated from the Academy, and she'd claimed it was the reason why she didn't follow Fuhrer Grumman to central, because she just had way too much stuff to pack away and the rent here was really reasonable. The truth had been far more complicated. Rebecca didn't want to work in the building her friend had died protecting, she didn't want to look out of a window and think of Riza buried under rubble and dust, and Rebecca knew that Riza would've wanted someone out East to keep an eye on Mustang and his team. She might've wanted to strangle Mustang almost a million times a day back then, but it's what Riza would've wanted.

Now Riza was back, and Rebecca was almost free to decide what she wanted to do next. Once all of this was over, she'd have to decide if she wanted to stay in recertification, or move on to something a little more exciting. A little more real. There was time for that decision later, and it wasn't made any less complicated by having Jean around. Why was life always so fucking complicated?

Rebecca sighed and kicked her boots off, hung up her military jacket and was in the bedroom about to take off her gun holsters and head to the shower when there was a knock on the door.

Someone knocking on her door wasn't weird on it's own, but it was late and Jean had a key ever since that one time she got sloppy drunk and passed out on him. Not her finest moment, but she'd been lost in grief, and he'd looked after her. In fact, he'd pulled her out of her grief kicking and screaming.

Cautiously, Rebecca unholstered one of her guns and went to answer the door. It was probably just the woman from across the hall for some reason, or the little old lady from downstairs who liked to gossip a bit too much, or at least that was what Rebecca tried to tell herself before she opened the door.

It wasn't the woman from across the hall, and it wasn't the little old lady from downstairs. It wasn't even Jean, on the off chance that he'd left his key at his place or the office.

It was the man from the photograph. The man who had followed her and Riza around as they shopped. The man who was after Riza.

Rebecca smiled, and kept her gun out of sight. Jean was on the way, and if things turned nasty before that, she could handle it. She could.

"Hi. Can I help you?" Rebecca asked. She wished she'd kept her boots on. She felt vulnerable standing there in her socks and only half her uniform.

"Maybe." The man smiled. It might've looked charming on anyone else, but on him, it made her skin crawl. "I'm looking for Riza Hawkeye, I haven't been able to find her anywhere, and I thought you might be able to help me."

"I don't know where she is, sorry." Rebecca said. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, and she had to try to keep calm, keep friendly, keep nonthreatening.

"That wasn't the kind of help I meant."

He tried to barge his way in just as Rebecca tried to slam the door on his face, and he grunted as the door instead made contact with his foot before bouncing back against the wall with a loud thud. Rebecca backed up quickly, she'd been field certified long before she'd taken her crappy desk job, and some things were instinctive. Some moves were buried in her bones and muscle, some training couldn't be extinguished by years behind a desk. The problem was she didn't want to kill him. She had the shot, and this closely a blind invalid could've made it, but she wanted him alive. They needed him alive.

Jean could've taken him out easily, so could Breda, and the Elrics, if they were here. They weren't though, and it was just her against this brute.

He got the first hit, knocked her off her feet and into the wall. Her ears rang and there were stars floating in front of her eyes and she waved her pistol around to get him to back up. Luckily he didn't want to get shot any more than she wanted to kill him. Blood trickled down her face, although she couldn't feel the pain yet, and she spun the gun around so that she could hit him with the butt of it and hopefully knock him out.

"What the fuck?!" Jean's voice rang across the corridor and through her open door, and the main spun to look at him.

Jean was a bigger threat, and would get in the way of whatever the fuck he was trying to do, so Rebecca wasn't surprised when he headed towards him. She took her chance, and whacked the butt of her gun across the back of his head, he made a startled grunt before he fell to the floor. It was remarkably easy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Becca, are you okay?" Jean's hands were on her face, probing at her forehead. She must've cut it when she hit the wall. "Becca, baby? What happened?"

"He was looking for Riza." Rebecca said. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing fast. Left over adrenaline from the fight was pumping through her veins even though she didn't need it anymore. "Is he breathing, I didn't want to kill him."

Jean held her hand tightly, not letting go for a second as he checked the man had survived his meeting with the unorthodox end of her gun. "Yeah, he's alive. Don't worry about him."

Rebecca nodded. They needed to call this in, she needed to wipe the blood off her face, they needed to tell Mustang and Riza what had happened, and they needed to get this guy somewhere where they could get him to talk.

"Come on, Jean, we've got work to do." She said. Her hands might still be shaking, and once they'd done all they needed to, she was going to have a long cry and eat more chocolate than the human body could handle. Right now though, they had a lead, and she wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers.