Chapter Sixteen: Saying Goodbye
I woke up to a throbbing pain in my stomach and a slight headache. Whatever I was lying on was solid and hard, kind of metallic. I remembered passing out on the operating table and wondered if I was still on it. And then I wondered if I'd died and that's why everything was so dark. But death shouldn't hurt like that.
Slowly, my limbs regained the ability to move. My eyelids creaked open on rusty hinges soon after. A groan slipped past my lips and I rolled onto my side, pressing my hand against my stomach with a grimace. Propping myself up on one elbow, I glances around at my surroundings. I'd been placed in Loki's old holding chamber from when he attacked New York, the one made of a glass cylinder. Rubbing my head, I sat up completely.
Soft snoring was the only sound I could hear. I slowly turned my head in that direction; fast movements made my head spin. Barton was sitting on the floor outside the cell, leaning his back against the glass. His head was tilted back. He was fast asleep.
My arms shook as I tried to get myself to stand. My legs wobbled and I flopped down onto my knees, hissing sharply. "Son of a bitch," I growled, gritting my teeth against the pain. Every muscle in my body ached.
Barton must have heard me because he jolted awake, leaning forward on his elbows. Yawning loudly, he turned to look at me, a smile on his face that quickly grew into a grin. He stood and pressed his palms against the glass. "Hey, you're up!"
"I could say the same to you," I replied with a smirk, sitting back and rubbing my head again. "What am I doing in here?"
He lifted and lowered one shoulder. "Fury was concerned that you'd wake up and go bat shit crazy again. So he stuck you in there just in case."
"That doesn't explain what you're doing here, though," I pointed out.
He shrugs again, his cheeks turning just a little pink. "You made me promise not to leave you, so I didn't."
I raised my eyebrows at him, scrunching my eyes against the headache. "How long was I out?"
"Three days."
I gaped at him. "You didn't leave for three days? Are you freaking insane?"
He chuckled. "Back to worrying about everyone else, I see. I was fine with it, so don't think anything of it. I left to eat and stuff, of course, but not for very long."
I sighed in defeat and laid back against the metal floor of the cell. "You're crazy, Barton."
"Maybe just a bit." He smiled. "Are you hungry? I can bring something for you."
I nodded. Maybe food would calm the aching in my stomach. Part of me knew that hunger wasn't why I was hurting; it was because I'd just had an alien virus violently torn out of my stomach three days prior. At least I was okay now. "That'd be great. Thanks."
Barton nodded and went to retrieve food for me. I rested my head on one of my arms and used the other to apply pressure to the wound in my stomach. The archer seemed to be in a good mood. All that was really worrying me was anything that I could have said to him during one of my black outs. He didn't appear to be too bothered, but I could never be sure.
When Barton returned with a chocolate muffin and a mug of hot chocolate, I accepted it graciously and began to eat. Barton let the door slide shut, leaving me alone inside. He excused himself for a little while, claiming he needed a shower before he did anything else. I laughed and watched him go, taking tiny sips of my drink.
It was just like that day in the snow when a drunken Stark had kicked me out. This was exactly what I'd ordered from that tiny cafe with Barton. I couldn't believe he'd remembered. Maybe it was just a coincidence.
As I chewed on my muffin, I thought back to every tragedy that'd happend to me so far. I'd been taken from my house without any sort of consent on my part, although my parents said it was okay. I jumped out of the helicarrier to save Barton's ass, nearly fell out of the air, and got my shoulder scratched in the process. I attended a party hosted by the man plotting to hand me over to the aliens, and then was forced to kiss said man. My brother got kidnapped and tortured. I got kidnapped and tortured, both of us by the guy trying to capture me, who turned out to be an alien himself. Along the way, I got infected by some psycho alien virus that made me attempt to kill every person in the room. I just had surgery, and now I was being held in Loki's old prison eating a muffin that wasn't as good cold.
But, Mo, some people, namely teenage girls, would argue. You get to hang out with the Avengers everyday! You live with Tony Stark! Your life is amazing!
The only Avenger I saw everyday was Stark, who was an alcoholic bastard who thought it was funny to push an innocent girl off the top of his tower without telling her that her new boots have rockets and appropriate to kick her out of the tower in a blizzard because she threatened to send him to an alcoholic support group. Yes. My life was completely amazing.
But I didn't care so much that all of that shit had happened to me. I cared about what it was doing to everyone else around me. The whole Avengers team nearly died during that first fight, Adam got kidnapped, I almost murdered Stark and Barton, and Brendon was having to survive living in Iowa without me. Okay, maybe that last one wasn't a prime example, and probably wasn't even true, but the point I was making remained the same. People were getting hurt because I was a target.
I want to go home, I thought suddenly. Not because I'm afraid for myself or I miss my family, but because I want to keep them safe. I'm strong enough to watch over my hometown on my own, with the aid of the local police force. I can do it.
The thought of returning home while my life was still at risk was crazy, but within moments of thinking about it, I became obsessed and couldn't stop. The muffin and hot chocolate lay discarded beside me, and I began to dream up every possible way I could talk Fury into letting me leave.
No matter what he said, I was going to go home.
*
A few weeks later, when Fury decided I was clean of the virus and sane enough to reenter society, I was released from the cylindrical glass room. Barton and Natasha came to collect me the morning I was told I could leave, both with happy smiles on their faces. During the time I'd been held as a sort of prisoner, I'd sat in the center of the chamber and contemplated how best to convince everyone to let me go home. I thought I'd figured out one way, so I held it close and followed my two friends to the conference room.
Stark, Rogers, and Banner were seated side-by-side, facing the door we entered through. Thor was pacing, his thick arms crossed over his chest. He smiled at me when he saw me. Fury was standing at the head of the table, his hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him. He looked at me with his one eye as Barton and Natasha escorted me into the room. "Mo," his deep voiced boomed. "How are you feeling?"
"I want to go home," I said bluntly. Just springing the idea on him was my best tactic. Actually, it was all I could think of.
"What?" Barton exclaimed, tightening his grip on my arm. I winced and he loosened up, giving me an apologetic look. "Sorry," he mumbled.
From my other side, Natasha spoke up. "Why would you want to go home when you're safer here?"
I pressed my lips into a thin line. "Am I really?" Everyone in the room gave me confused looks, except for Fury, who was giving me the same blank expression I was wearing. He nodded once, indicating for me to go on. "My life was fine up until I got to New York. I've been in more dangerous situations over the past year than I have in my entire life. But I wouldn't care so much about that if everyone back home wasn't at risk as well. My brother got kidnapped and beaten because I was here. If I'd been at home, they'd have taken me instead."
"And getting taken by the aliens again would be better than staying here in New York where we can watch over you?" Stark asked skeptically.
I scowled at him. "I know how to kill them. I can defend myself, and I can help the police force protect the town if the aliens do attack."
"Mo, don't be ridiculous," Barton snapped.
I turned to him with narrowed eyes, wrenching my arm away from him. "I'm not being ridiculous, Barton," I snarled fiercely, glaring. "And just because I don't have that virus in me anymore doesn't mean I don't have the power to kick your sorry ass!"
His face was irritated, but his eyes were hurt. "What possessed you to decide you have to go home right this minute? And don't tell me you're homesick, because you've been just fine this entire year."
"How do you know I was fine?" I countered, clenching my fists. "I know you guys have surveillance footage of me that you were watching before you came to kidnap me. You know I was in theatre. How do you know I wasn't just acting like everything was peachy when really everything was tearing me in two?" I was close to screaming by the end of my little speech. Barton looked shocked and said nothing more, looking down at his feet.
There was complete silence in the room for a few moments. I was seething, but a deep breathing through my nose calmed me down quickly. The Avengers team was watching me carefully. I was watching Fury rub his beard, a comtemplating expression on his face. "Do you have something to say?" I inquired, not exactly politely.
"Is this really what you want? To go home?" Fury replied, ignoring my rude tone. I nodded at him. "Then I'll have a jet prepared to fly you back to Iowa tomorrow. Stark, take her back to the tower and help her pack her things."
I grinned, suddenly very happy. Barton was less than so. "That's it?" he asked, outraged. "All of this trouble to get her, all of the lectures about keeping her out of trouble, and you're just going to send her home like she was only here for a two-day visit?"
I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his outburst. What was his problem? Why did he want me to stay so badly? "If you've got something you want to tell me, Barton, then say it," I told him softly.
The tips of his ears turned pink and he looked away, saying nothing.
Nodding stiffly, I looked at Stark. "Let's go." Then I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, trusting that Stark would follow after me. He had to be as eager as I was for me to be leaving.
*
It was around midnight when the jet touched down on the football field the next day. I stood from my seat and walked to the ramp that began to slide down. The autumn night air was chilly, the wind blowing brown and gold leaves across the tops of my boots. The houses across the street were decorated with skeletons and jack-o-lanterns. Empty candy wrappers littered the pavement. Trick or treating had ended a few hours earlier.
Stark, Banner, Rogers, Natasha, Thor, and Barton followed me out of the jet and down onto the field, somber looks on their faces. Stark was smirking, but it looked forced. They stopped in a line right behind me, looking around at the houses like I was. I cleared my throat. "So, this is goodbye then," I said, setting down my duffel bag full of clothes.
I turned toward them, ready to say farewell. I went to Stark first, copying his smirk with one of my own. "I'm not sure whether I'm going to miss you or not," I say to him, chuckling lightly.
"Probably just my tower, right?" Stark clasped my hands between his own and gave me a smile. "It's been a pleasure fighting by your side, Mo," he whispered so the others couldn't hear. "Make sure you come visit us, though. I can't go a long time without teasing you, you know."
I grinned. "I know. I promise." Maybe I was wrong about him not missing me.
I moved next to Banner, holding out my hand. He gave me a stiff handshake, plastering an unhappy smile onto his face. "Keep up the good work, Banner," I said quietly. "And thank you for everything you've done for me."
"You're welcome," he replied. "Don't forget about us, you hear?"
"Never," I responded.
Rogers was up next, his hands held behind his back. I pressed the side of my fingers to my temple, saluting him. "You're one of the bravest people to ever exist," I told him, meaning every word.
I didn't expect him to salute me back, a sad smile on his face. "No, Mo," he replied. "You are." And he sounded like he meant it, too.
Natasha wrapped me up in a hug when I reached her, exhaling loudly. She stepped back after letting me go, putting her hands on my shoulders and giving me a stern look. "You better come back and see me soon so I don't have to hang out with the guys all the time." She grinned. "I can only handle a room full of testosterone for so long."
I laughed and nodded. "I'll miss your humor," I said. "This isn't the last you'll be seeing of me. Don't worry."
Thor also hugged me, lifting me clear off the ground. "I do not wish for you to leave," he protested in his deep voice after planting a kiss on my cheek. "You must return to see me. Help me to escape from Midgard for a minute again. Perhaps we could visit Asgard once more?"
I chuckled and patted his arm, a sign to set me back on my feet. "I'd like that," I replied, giving him a warm smile before turning to Barton.
Barton, who was previously enraged at me for wanting to leave, now looked so depressed that it broke my heart just slightly. I squeaked a little and threw my arms around his neck, hugging my tightly. His arms slipped around my waist, holding me just as firmly. "I'm going to miss you so much," I murmured into his ear, laying my head on his shoulder. "You're my best friend. Don't forget that."
"I won't," he replied. He let go first, stepping back a little and kissing my forehead. "I know everyone else probably said it, but you have to come visit. I'll go crazy if you don't."
I grinned. "I will. I promise."
His blue eyes were rimmed with red, like he wanted to cry but was holding back. "Please don't go," he finally said, his voice cracking a little. "Please."
I rested my palm against his cheek, surprised by his sudden change in emotion. "I have to. You know that. It won't be long before you're seeing me again. All right?" He closed his eyes and nodded. I took a deep breath and then exhaled. He did the same. "On the count of three, we're going to turn around and walk in opposite directions. And we're not going to look back, got it? We're not going to say goodbye, because this isn't goodbye. Right?" He nodded. "Right. One. Two." His blue eyes watched me sadly.
"Three," I whispered. Then I dropped my hand, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked away in the direction of my house. And I didn't look back. Not even once.
*
I grabbed the house key from its hidden spot underneath the welcome mat and stuck it in the lock. I yawned suddenly, covering my mouth with my hand. After opening the front door, I slipped inside and shut it behind me.
Trying to be silent, I crept up the stairs with my bag and tiptoed down the hallway toward my bedroom, trying not to wake my parents or Adam up. I tossed my bag onto the floor by my bed and crawled on top of the blankets, still fully dressed. With a meow, Emmett, my fluffy gray cat, leapt up beside me and laid down on my stomach, purring. I stroked his back. "I missed you too, honey," I murmured.
My cell phone was on my nightstand exactly where I'd left it the night of my birthday. Just as I was about to close my eyes, it lit up. "Unknown Caller" flashed across the screen with a strange number I didn't recognize. Shrugging, I shut my eyes and let myself fall asleep. It probably wasn't important anyway.