The Fox's Return

Sleeping Beauty Wakes Up

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Marlene Rogers didn't remember much as she began to come to her senses. She remembers being on a train, on her way to carry out a mission. It was an intel mission nothing too dangerous.

There was an explosion . . .

Her eyes snapped open. 

"Howard?" she asked faintly as she was met with familiar dark eyes. 

"Well," the voice said blandly. "This is awkward."

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she was able to depict that the man hovering over her not only had a red thing hanging from his mouth, but he was also not Howard. 

Acting on instinct, Marlene attacked. She brought her knee up, smacking the side of her "attacker". 

"What the hell?" he shouted, falling to the ground. 

Marlene grabbed the first thing she found, preparing to attack. She, however, stopped at the sound of a voice that seemed to come from the walls themselves. 

"Mr. Stark," a familiar voice came. "It would appear Miss Rogers is awake."

"Funnily enough, J.A.R.V.I.S.," the man groaned. "I'd gathered that."

When the man stood, Marlene instantly noticed his deep resemblance to her best friend. Her grip tightened around her weapon. 

"Who are you?" she growled scathingly. "And what have you done to Mr. Jarvis?"

The man moved forward, but stopped once Marlene nearly lunged at him. 

"Can I have my twizzler back?" he asked her with a raised brow, not caring that he had one of the deadliest women on Earth six feet away.

"What the bloody hell is a twizzler?" she responded in complete shock. 

"They're these licorice candies," he answered, carefully moving around her to get to his red rope. "Much better than whatever you ate in the 40s."

He held up his hand, presenting her with one of his red rope "Twizzlers" as he called them. She narrowed her eyes skeptically, but slowly she took it. 

"It's a peace offering," the man said calmly. "Now, can you put the wrench down?"

That's when Marlene realized that she was ready to attack someone with a wrench. It seemed more likely to work than her hair ribbon, but apparently not impressive. 

"Who are you?" Marlene asked, not changing her position. 

"Put the wrench down."

"I will when you tell me who you are," Marlene countered. 

"The old man was not exaggerating when he said you were stubborn!" the man chuckled. 

"I truly don't care what your old man said," Marlene said irritatedly. "I want to know why you've brought me here?" 

Marlene looked around, and it was clearly a lab. Yet, it looked like it held higher tech than the things she was used to. She wouldn't lie and say she wasn't interested in what everything could do. She wanted to build something, to fix something. 

Before Tony could answer her question, she spoke up once more. 

"Where the fuck is my clothing?" she demanded, finally noticing she wore nothing but the papery material of a hospital gown. 

"Well, when I found you in the ice," Tony began to reason, holding his hands up innocently before she could murder him with a wrench. "Your clothes were ripped. "My wonderful, and beautiful girlfriend changed you into the hospital gown while she goes to get you a few outfits to start off with."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't smash this into your skull," she demanded, waving the wrench threateningly. "5 . . . 4.  . ."

"Because I asked nicely?" Tony grinned nervously. 

By the look on Marlene's face, it was clearly not the right answer. 

"Okay! Okay!" Tony said quickly, just as she was about to lung. "My name is Anthony Howard Stark!"

Marlene stopped. Her blue eyes were wide with shock. 

"Howard doesn't have any adult children!" she objected. "I mean . . . I wouldn't be surprised if there was a toddler or two but-"

"In 1941, you and Howard Stark made it a habit of going to a different diner every Friday," Tony said quickly, remembering one of the tales his father told him. "You always got the chocolate shake with the whipped cream on the bottom, and you'd eat Howard's cherry because he didn't like them."

Marlene lowered her make-shift weapon. She wasn't entirely sure of what to think of this 'Anthony Stark', but she knew of someone who would tell her the truth. 

"I want to see Howard," she demanded, clenching her jaw tightly. 

Tony faltered slightly. 

"You'll want to sit down for this."

***

"So let me get this straight," Marlene began, pacing Tony's lab. "It's the year 2012. I was blown up, and fell into a coma-like state while being fossilized by a chunk of ice. My brother isn't actually dead. Peggy is old and is struggling with dementia. Howard and his wife, Maria, died in a car accident in 1991. You just hop into your red tin suit and fly around. You and my brother in some superhero boy band that stopped an alien invasion and some Norse god."

"Essentially," Tony nodded. "But, I'm Iron Man and my suit is not made of tin! Besides, it does much more than fly! And that superhero boy band is called The Avengers."

It was safe to say that Marlene was in a state of denial when Tony first showed her the article written upon Howard's death. When the reality set in, Tony had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as a few strand tears fell from her eyes. 

That night, Marlene shed a lot more than a few tears. In fact, she thought she cried so much, she'd shrivel up from dehydration. 

Tony had granted her a room to sleep in, for the time being, handing her a large shirt and pair of pants until Pepper returned to take her shopping the next morning. 

Marlene spent the night using the cell phone Tony gave her to search the whereabouts of her other loved ones, hoping that someone was alive. She found working with the internet and the phone surprisingly easily, almost naturally.

Her initial pride for being able to operate a cell phone quickly faded once she realized everyone was dead. Dugan, Howard, Morita, Pinkerton, Mr. Jarvis, Mrs. Jarvis, Colonel Phillips, Falsworth, Sousa, Thompson, and Happy Sam Sawyer were all dead. They were gone. 

Marlene hadn't even cared that there were parades and documentaries on her, which she found after searching her name on the internet. She hadn't cared that her brother was alive, she had momentarily forgotten that in her sorrow. 

Just as her tears began to fade, Marlene watched a documentary about the Howling Commandos leading to her crying harder. She kept rewinding the personal interview moments. She could hear their voices, telling tales of their times on the front lines. She could see their faces and their smiles. It brought her a sense of comfort. 

Comfort she so desperately needed at the moment.