5.02 Devil's Advocate

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Head resting over her arm, Charlie was curled into herself on the floor of a room that wasn't hers

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Head resting over her arm, Charlie was curled into herself on the floor of a room that wasn't hers. Water rolled down her skin, but her gaze stayed fixed on the air in front of her. Millions of thoughts were racing through her head. Not that it mattered; her skin was still playing the motions.

A knock came to the door, and it crept open slowly. Greying hair and wrinkling eyes emerged but never moved passed the doorway. Tony Stark's eyes landed on her. "Hey."

"Hey." She replied, looking at him but not meeting his gaze.

His attention shifted to the dust on a nearby bookshelf. "Pepper just wanted me to check up on you, see if you were okay and all that." Crossing his arms, he kept his eyes on everything but her. "Sorry I spooked you. Pepper can take over swimming lessons, or I can just add something to the suit, whatever floats your boat. We can decide it later, no rush."

Embarrassment and shame rotted in her skin. "Is Peter still out there?"

"Yeah, Happy decided to show him the water jet settings."

Charlie could feel the memory play over again, and she caught sight of the bruise forming on Tony's cheek. "Sorry, I hit you."

"Don't be. Honestly, I'm just glad those sparring lessons are paying off; plus, Pepper likes the rugged and handsome look, so it's really for the best." He brushed it off, and she nodded silently. His attention ran over her again; she looked so small. "I'm going to check on May; I think she got lost on the way to the kitchen."

Just as he turned his heel, Charlie sat up. "Tony."

"What's up?" He turned back around.

She struggled with her words. Sorry, didn't feel right. Only briefly did he touch her shoulder to stop her from drowning herself, but that one touch had sent demons racing from her past to her present. For a moment, Tony wasn't Tony; he was someone else. A danger. A threat. A monster. Swallowing, Charlie felt like a broken doll. "It wasn't... personal."

"I know." He said a soft sense about him. "You don't have to explain yourself to me if you don't want to."

Slowly, she nodded, then said. "Pepper's got long arms. I don't know if the technique would translate the same if she were my teacher."

Offense dripped into his words as he placed a hand over his chest. "Are you calling my arms stubby?"

"I'm not, not saying that."

"I should have left you to drown." Tony retorted and then walked out of the room, but Charlie followed him, another comment on her tongue.

How long ago had that been? Six years? Seven? The memory was distant in her brain, yet fresh simultaneously. At some point, she had trusted strangers, or at least they earned it. At some point, she wasn't a fool. Had she gone soft? No. Charlie knew better than that. Adults failed her one after another; in a way, Tony had been worse since she had failed him. He was dead. But his memory was being pulled further into the dirt.

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