Iron Beta 3: What to do When your World Explodes

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

You know how you find some things funny, even though they really shouldn't be, and they are truly the farthest thing from funny ever?

I was having one of those moments.

Because I find it bitterly funny that two days ago, I was in New York, laughing with my boyfriend and helping my genius friends create the next big breakthrough in scientific technology. I was worried about my dad getting his shirt stuck in the blender.

Now? I was a wanted fugitive sitting on the porch of a house in who-knows-where (a house created under aliases), watching the sun set with a newly completed AK-47 slung casually over my back, waiting for my boyfriend to bring news from our mole in S.H.I.E.L.D. about just how many government branches want my head.

This really wasn't healthy. Or normal, even by my standards.

I sigh and scuff my sneakers against the moldy boards of the gray, flaking porch, watching as a pebble gets flung off into the grass.

The door creaks open and I glance up at my dad. "Come on inside, Clint just off the phone with Stillwell."

I nod and except the offered hand, brushing off my jeans as I step inside and join the others in the living room.

Once he sees that we are all here, Clint clears his throat from the front of the room, quieting the low chatter that had been floating around and focusing everyone's attention.

"I just finished speaking with Stillwell." He takes a deep breath. "And he told us that the FBI, CIA, NSA, a bunch of local police departments, and S.H.I.E.L.D. of course, are all looking for us. The Secretary of Defense also holds a few personal grudges too."

My dad and I groan at that last part, my dad mumbling something about 'clown-headed idiots wanting his suit'.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "So four major agencies and most likely hundreds, if not thousands, of cops. All looking for the same ten people."

"The ten of us." Steve agrees.

I look around at the people scattered throughout the living room. "Anyone who wants to leave...sorry, too late now, you're stuck here."

Nobody looks too upset by that. Darcy even has a bit of a maniac smile on her face.

Steve nods. "Good. So what do we do from here? We need those files and we can't run forever."

My dad looks thoughtful. "We need the files, right? And S.H.I.E.L.D. has the files. Hacking doesn't work, they found us too quickly last time. I have a feeling we will have to pry them, metaphorically, out of Fury's cold, dead, hands. Do you think Stark Industries can sue?"

Everyone shakes their heads, Bruce is the only to verbally reply. "No, because for that you need your legal department, and last I checked you both went to MIT for engineering, not Harvard. In order to get your legal department, you either need Jarvis, your Stark phone, or one of your houses. You don't have any of that."

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed." my dad grumbles quietly as I roll my eyes and speak up.

"So that is a no to the suing, Could - no. Very bad idea. Um, we could..." I trail off, out of ideas that don't end up with one or all of us dead.

Steve sighs in defeat. "We'll come up with something. We have to. In the meantime, team dismissed. Keep an eye out."

I trudge up the stairs silently, the gun on my back feeling like the weight of the world.

A~A~A

An hour later, I'm sitting with one hip hitched onto the windowsill in the bedroom, staring out at the clear, starry sky. Balanced on my lap and spread across the floor are paper - yes, paper - schematics for Beta IV someone shoved at me before we left the tower.

The blueprints do not even begin to describe the piece of awe-inspiring technology the suit is. Beta IV is at the pinnacle of stealth technology, with design input from Clint and Natasha as well as - surprisingly - Bruce (who has experience running from stealthy people). The suit is fully covered in a matte black paint, lacking the purple mask and detailing all my other suits have. All airwaves and radio signals except for designated Avengers comm units' bounce and deflect off the suit, making it disappear on radar. There are controls for me to make the blue lights from the reactor, eyes, palms, and feet not visible. I can also make my footsteps in the suit completely silent, rather than the usual heavy clanking the metal emits. I can still go supersonic though - somehow that speed aspect has become 'my thing'.

A knock on my door rips my eyes off the scattered blueprints, causing my hand to twitch instinctively towards the rifle resting against my leg. "Come in."

A sandy, dark blonde head of hair peeks its way around my door, and a small smile graces my face as Clint steps into the room, a pistol at his hip.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

He sticks his tongue out at me at he leans against the wall on the other side of the window. "How are you doing?"

"Not too bad, all things considered. I mean, I have my friends, at least one of my suits, and a beautiful view."

"And me, of course."

I snort but smile anyways. "You have an ego the size of Hulk."

"But you love me anyways."

"Yeah, I do." I whisper quietly as heat creeps up my cheeks. Even after almost a year, Clint still manages to get a reaction out of me when he says things like that.

Clint crosses the window to come around behind me, half-leaning against the wall as he wraps his arms lightly around my waist and places his head on top of mine.

I sigh quietly as I lean back into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart calming my nerves.

"Do you remember," Clint whispers softly, "That night on the roof? Under a sky like this?"

"Yes. We danced, we laughed, and you kissed me on the cheek and ran. Jerk."

"Sorry. I made it up to you later, didn't I?"

"Yep. Kissed me Gone with the Wind style in front of everybody."

"Your dad hated me for like a week afterwards."

"Wow, only a week? You lucky, lucky man."

"Well, after, you know, the Loki thing..." we both tense as I squeeze my eyes shut to hold back the barrage of bad memories from a year ago.

I'm led out the shadows on my mind by a warm pair on lips on mine. Clint pulls away, eyes shining with concern, and I realize that I'm seated on my bed and I'm shaking.

I take a deep breath and focus not on the green eyes in my mind, but the grey one in front of me.

"Thanks, Clint."

He just smiles slightly and kisses me again, sitting next to me on the bed and taking my hand. "Does that happen often?"

I shrug. "Not really. Well, I mean, yeah...but I'm usually down in the lab and my dad sees them coming, sees the warning signs. If not, then I'm alone and Jarvis helps."

Guilt floods Clint's eyes. "I should have seen the triggers, I could have helped..."

"Hey." my voice turns serious as I turn to face him. "There was no way for you to know. My dad and I both are self-taught to bury our triggers under rich person eccentricities. You couldn't have seen them, so don't beat yourself up about it. Understand?"

He nods and hugs me, slowly getting up. "Well, we both need sleep, so I should go."

I whine but nod anyways, leaning forward to kiss him before he disappears into the vents.

I quickly change and curl into my sheets, letting the memory of his heartbeat keep the fear at bay.

Until I wake up, that is.