New York.
2 Years Later.
Interestingly, I had been invited to the party of the year by the infamous billionaire, whom I highly doubted knew my name was even on his guest list. The bad blood between us from past events the snag that caused the formation of our friendship to unravel. Two years had gone by since that day in the Siberian facility, two years of no word from him, and for awhile at least I had settled on never seeing the Iron Man again. However, here we were again, and here I was back in New York, the city I knew all too well.
So, donning a little black dress and some little black stilettos I took a cab to where the illustrious event was taking place, the Plaza Hotel. The lineup outside unfurling around the block as eager guests awaiting entry stood beneath the gleaming emerald and gold landmark. The Gatsby-esque place seeming to outshine the rest of the city.
Pulling up to the curb I turned away from the red velvet carpet that rolled elegantly down the lobby's steps, and from the crowds who were dressed to the nine's in high, luxurious fashion. Not even the flash of the paparazzi's cameras aroused my attention as my gaze was fixated on the lone skyscraper positioned in the mob of other buildings, it's "A" no longer lit up.
The tower dark, and in the distance it stood out; the sole piece of iconic architecture who's lights were switched off. The blackened out tower serving as a cold reminder to everyone who saw it that no hero stood proud ready to defend the earth within it, that the once team who gathered inside were now separated, ripped apart like a mere piece of paper.
With a glint of sorrow in my eyes I looked away, the beams of white camera flashes instead meeting my darkened gaze.
I went on inside anyway, past the armed security dressed in uniforms, and past the fervent high class members of society who were pushing, and clawing to get in.
The Plaza at least a welcoming comfort as it had not changed much even though it was along in years. Like me it was old, yes, but preserved. A relic that held so many stories, and had seen so much, and I had remembered coming here a number of times back in the day. The lavish Champagne Bar being the place where a special first Anniversary occurred at, back when a certain Sergeant was all too invested in impressing me for the evening.
With my heels clicking along the marble floor I waltzed past the Oak Room, and the Palm Court in order to get to the area where the main event was taking place, the Grand Ballroom.
The lush hall built specifically to look like a beautiful French Chateau glistened gold, and at the center plunging down from the domed ceiling was a sparkling crystal chandelier.
Illuminated up in candlelight the room was sparkling, the party-goers merrily drinking and dancing, thoroughly enjoying the night of opulent bliss, and sitting idly in the corner a string quartet played their instruments, their bows whisking along the strings, and I listened to the music they created. Their symphony of notes encasing the ballroom in a lovely melody, squelching the noise from the hoards.
The slightly eccentric billionaire had rented out the whole hotel with each guest having the privilege of an immaculate suite to retire in once the soiree was done. The hefty cost of this one night immeasurable, just to tac another engagement party under his belt; the fifth one.
For the first party he bought an island, naming it after his betrothed. Then, it was a yacht trip up the west coast to stay at his Napa Valley vineyard. Then, a gala on the top floor of the Burj Khalifa, the world's tallest building, and then an all expense paid visit to Las Vegas, with of course a 5 star hotel included as well. Money apparently being of no concern for the husband-to-be, but I already knew that fact all too well having known him for so many years now.
The woman of the hour Pepper Potts stood front center in the middle, a glass of red wine cradled in her grasp, a fine silk dress draped along her form. Her engagement ring giving the crystal chandelier a run for it's money in terms of radiance.
She looked to be dimly amused by the company of others who crowded around her like vultures, pecking away for juicy details regarding the wedding. This absurdly extravagant night notably not her taste, nor her choice, but the CEO feigned delight as she listened to her band of admirers.
With a cautious stride I made my way over to her, unsure of how my appearance would be perceived, but as I strolled closer I was met with a smile by the red haired woman.
Pepper's gang of zealous devotees fanned out as I walked up to her, giving us some privacy to talk as they settled on pestering her at a later time which I was pleased about.
"A bit much, isn't it?" The Executive Officer remarked, taking a glance around at the red long stemmed rose bouquet center pieces, and at the expensive hors d'oeuvres on silver trays being passed generously around from guest to guest.
"Yes, but I suppose that's just his nature, isn't it?" I added, making her nod in accordance, her having bared witness to his ostentatious ways for much longer than I, and all with the patience of a saint.
"It's good to see you, Rebecca." She said with sincerity, and I was grateful for it.
"You too, soon to be Mrs. Stark." I spoke just before the outlandish billionaire made his presence known.
Adorned in a costly tux, and beaming with confidence he sauntered his way over to his fiance.
"Hey, honey. Can you smooth some things over with your parents? I think I-" The Iron Man began, his sentence diluting out into a hush before inevitable silence at the sight of me. "Popsicle..."
Behind his iconic tech glasses his hazel pools filled with bewilderment as he stared at me, utterly dumbfounded and surprised to see me after two years of my absence. An absence he chose, not me.
"I'll give you two a minute to talk. I'll, uh, go talk to my folks." Pepper excused herself, pecking Tony's cheek softly before fading into the swell of attendees.
"I was invited." I justified, snagging a glass of champagne off from a silver tray, the drink customary at celebrations, and I felt as though I also needed an alcoholic crutch for this imminent conversation.
"Really? Much like the customary Christmas icon I checked the list twice, and I think I would of remembered seeing a Mrs. Rebecca Barnes on it." Tony shot back, swiping a Scotch on the rocks for himself, the ice in the crystal glass clinking as he took a swig.
"True, but on the guest list it's Dr. Barnes." I defended.
"What?"
"I'm a Doctor now. Course you'd know that if you hadn't of childishly given me silent treatment for the past two years." I parried, taking a sip of the bubbling golden shaded drink in my hand.
"And, who's fault was that?" Tony snubbed.
"Not mine."
"Oh, so it's my fault?" The genius retaliated, somehow finding a misguided rationale to feign innocence in this whole dilemma.
I sighed, my reasoning for even attending this party not to start a fight. Our chat had fizzled into a sour one, and I didn't want to dampen the evening anymore.
"I didn't come here to start another Civil War, Tony. Contrary to your popular belief this is your night, and I just came to congratulate you. Though Pepper is too good for you."
Tony quirked a small grin at that, and raised his Scotch, making an effort to let bygones be bygones. To which I happily obliged, my Champagne flute clanging against his glass.
"So, Doctor, huh? How'd that happen?" He began again, now on much more cordial terms.
"Well ever since I got out of the ice I've been secretly studying to become a Doctor. That's how it happened."
"How'd you finish up your residency so fast?" He grilled to which I smirked.
"Some of the rules were bent a little for me. I think they factored in everything I had already done for this country."
"Including helping a wanted criminal." Tony concluded, his words spoken like a joke, but I could read the underlying truth that surged behind his sentence. Bygones apparently not being bygones.
"I was never obligated to sign the Sokovia Accords in the first place, and funnily enough, there's no record of me having helped Steve anyway. I'm not an Avenger, remember? I'm not always in the spotlight." I countered, much to the snarky former playboy's dismay.
"Uh-huh, what if I do a little tattle-taling on you then? Y'know, old school kindergarten style?"
"You could," I began. "If you had any proof. But, I'm pretty good at cleaning up after myself. I think you'd only find deadends, and traceless hints. But, you wouldn't tell on my anyway."
"Oh, yeah? Why wouldn't I?"
"Because, Tony. We're friends," I responded, being the first to lay down my side of the argument. "Whenever there's not a crisis, or a threat to Earth, or an all out War between heroes. Whenever I'm not fighting you, and you're not threatening to lock up my husband... We do get along."
"Or, whenever your hubby isn't killing my parents." Tony barred, his words coiled with leftover anger from that dark, snowy day.
"It wasn't his fault."
"He still did it."
"Okay, fine. He did do it, and you've done things, I've done things... We all tote around the weight of the hurt we've caused others, and did I mention that I came here as a friend?" I said.
With that the mechanic took another sip of his caramel hued drink, and exhaled deeply. Loosening his black bowtie he took a breather and watched Pepper from across the ballroom before turning back to me.
"So, how is he? The hubby."
"He's doing well. I was there when he woke up, and I've been visiting frequently. Which, by the way, thank you."
"For what?"
"I know you know he's in Wakanda, and I also know that Thaddeus doesn't know, so thanks." I said.
"Odd time to bring up being thankful and all with me threatening to tattle." Tony added.
"Well, you would of found out where James is anyway since one of my Medical Degrees is a Wakandan Medical Degree. You do the math, so I'm just saying thanks for keeping quiet." I praised, the party commencing on around us while we talked away, catching up.
"Sure, what are friends for? Other than to kick you right in the face." The rich Avenger retorted, making me roll my eyes.
"You still on that? That was years ago, and I could of hit you a lot harder."
"I tell you, my eye still hurts."
That did it, and I laughed, making him grin as well. For at least a second it felt like nothing bad had happened between us, and it made me glad I came.
"It was great seeing you Tony." I finally disclosed, knowing that the night was drawing to an end. That my time here, at this event, was almost up.
"Yeah, you too, Doc."
"And, since you didn't bother to ask... He's fine too." I verbalized, knowing his ego would never let him be the first to bring up a certain Captain.
"He? He who?" The Iron Man dodged, and I just smiled, reading him so well. He still cared, but his pride was getting in the way.
"Bye, Tony. Congratulations again." I said, bidding him farewell before I exited the ornate gilded gold ballroom, and took off down the marbled halls.
Being half past 2 in the morning New York's nightlife was still in full swing, but the traffic had died out a little. The streets almost quiet, if that was even possible. The hustle and bustle now mainly isolated to just bars and clubs.
While waiting for a cab to turn up I couldn't help, but let my eyes wander. My gaze settling onto the darkened tower once more. It's dim "A" making me long for a bit of light instead, so I snapped open my clutch.
Taking out the archaic flip phone I typed in his number, giving the hero a call.
"Becky, are you alright?" He answered, straight away of course, and I listened to the concern laced onto his familiar, warm voice.
"Yes, Steve. I just wanted to talk to you. It's been awhile."
"It's good to hear from you, Becky. But, that's a phone for emergencies only." The spangled man who had turned in his stars and stripes lectured.
"Well, I'm dying to see you again. How about that? I'm in New York, and I'll text you the location to meet up. How does tomorrow sound? Great?" I commentated, not giving him a second to object.
"Becky-"
"Good. I'll see you soon."