Chapter 14 - Research

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The Stark Tower library is usually empty on Tuesdays.

And Mondays.

And, well, every other day of the week. And today, like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, you remain the only Avenger interested in the stories tucked away in the nooks and crannies of the twenty-tier shelves. And today, just like yesterday and each of her preceding days for the past week, yet another set of leather-bound tomes stands at your side in towers dozens tall. Tens more lay discarded in carelessness on the floor in a semi-circle around where you sit, your back against the spines of antiquated anthologies. Your gaze quickly scans the pages of the book in hand as the quiet *snick* of turning pages is muffled by the rain that falls against the library's windows. That still falls against the windows.

It's been almost a month since you left Asgard, and the rain hasn't stopped.

Reaching the final page of your book, you toss it away to join its forgotten brothers and sisters at your feet and grab the next one off the top of the stack beside you.

"Anything good?"

You flinch, startled by the soft voice beset by dark-rimmed glasses and curly hair. "You're a hypocrite, you know that right?" you grumble, ignoring Bruce as he finds strategic spots to step between the literary land mines you've tossed about.

"Maybe," he shrugs, finding a clear spot across the aisle and sitting on the floor to face you. "But if I'm startled, I turn into a giant green rage monster, so...not exactly the same thing."

A tiny spark of humor lights in your chest amidst the grief you've been ignoring for the last month. It feels nice, so you let it manifest in a tiny laugh. Bruce likes that, his own bashful smile painting his face.

"Touché," you smirk, returning your attention to the book in hand - A Veritable History of Norse Heroes and Legends.

Bruce doesn't say anything else, and you nearly forget about him as you dive back into the text on your lap. You scan the table of contents and nothing of interest catches your eye. But you can't afford to miss something important. So with a huff of frustration you flip to the first page of chapter one, and start scanning the contents, hoping something jumps out at you.

"You know, if you told me what you're looking for, I could help."

You glance up at Bruce, who has grabbed a book off the floor and now idly flips through the pages, keeping an eye on you and waiting for an answer.

He's not the first one to ask over the past weeks.

"I've already read that one," you mumble, ignoring his implied question. He arches a brow and sets the book aside, reaching for another on the floor. "And that one," you say as his fingers brush the cover. "And that one," you smirk, eyes still glued to your own book as you see him move to reach for another.

"There's no way you actually read all these," he frowns, stubbornly picking up the nearest book anyway.

"I learned what I needed to," you sigh. "Which was nothing."

"You still haven't told me what you're looking for," Bruce says.

You hesitate, remembering how you had completely clammed up the first time Tony asked you the same question when he found you in the library several weeks ago. But your resolve is wearing thin.

"I...don't know yet," you answer truthfully.

Bruce shrugs and tosses the book aside, pulling his iPad from his inside jacket pocket and holding it out to you. "Well, whatever it is you'll probably have better luck on the internet."

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