The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

Avengers: Chapter Seven

Marie wound up in the empty container room. She didn't know why she was there. She didn't want to be there, where Coulson took his last breath. But she didn't know where else to go. Coulson had always been there. She could always go to him when she didn't know what to do.

The wall was still stained red and smelled of bleach. Marie's finger brushed the spot where his head would have been. Did it hurt? It must have hurt. But Coulson wouldn't have showed it. He would have smiled; he would have made a joke.

Something was building inside her. Marie gasped a shuddered breath. She fell to her knees and pressed her forehead against the wall. She screwed her eyes shut and ground her teeth. A sob burst from her lips and hot tears scalded her face.

"I'm-I'm sorry. I'm so s-s-sorry," she said in a choked whisper. "I-I wish I could-could have—I wish I could have done some-something."

She sniffled and wiped the tears off her face. He wouldn't want her to cry. He didn't believe in being sad. He believed in enjoying life. But she couldn't do that. She didn't know how.

"I-I hope—I hope you're okay."

Marie sat back and pulled her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees, staring at her scuffed boots. She sat there for what felt like hours. Her eyes were dry and her breathing slow, but she didn't want to move. Not yet.

"I didn't realize the room was occupied."

Marie didn't look up at Stark's voice. He slowly walked over and sat down next to her. He didn't say anything at first. She finally peeked over at his solemn face. His mouth opened and closed as he searched for words.

"He talked about you a lot, Coulson," he said. "He was like an excited grandpa, going on about how much you were growing and your training. I think he liked you more than the Capsicle."

Marie stared at Stark, pressing her cheek to her knees.

"I read the report. About your retrieval."

"Is-Is that what they called it?" Marie asked, her voice strained.

"Yeah. Nice job, by the way. With the mugger and those agents. You really stuck it to them."

Marie grinned sardonically. "And now I-I work for them. Didn't do me m-m-much good."

He was quiet. She could practically see the wheels turning in his brain.

"Why are you still here?" Tony asked, his voice rising. "You can disappear and leave. They can't force you to stay. You're not even eighteen. It's kidnapping—you're being held hostage."

"It's easier to stay. I can-I can eat and sleep in a bed and-and do something with my-myself. I spent six years homeless and hide-hide-hiding in New York. I don't want to-to-to go back to that. I wasn't living. I-I was just surviving."

Tony looked at her. "And you had Coulson."

Marie gave him a broken smile. "And-And I had Coulson."

Tony stood up and paced on the platform. Nervous energy radiated from him. He paused for a second, before moving again and finding somewhere else to stand. He crossed and uncrossed his arms. He didn't know what to do with himself.

Marie's head turned when Steve entered the room. He leaned against a rail, his eyes wavering between her and Tony. The latter didn't acknowledge him.

"Was he married?" Steve asked. Marie shook her head.

"No."

"There was a, uh, cellist, I think," Tony said. His shoulders curled with sadness and his arms flexed with anger. The stages of grief. Coulson had explained it to her once. They had been talking about Harry Potter.