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modishmeliadus · 4 months

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Happy New Year!

Here’s my first chapter of my BMFM fic: Bonded.

(I would have updated to ao3 but I need an invite and I'm impatient.)

After her departure from the military Marianna Davidson has returned home to reunite with her younger sister Charley after six years of being separated. But, Chicago is no longer what she remembers, let alone the sister she left behind. Can she make up for their lost time? And can she get used to Charley’s unusual friends and the fear that they strike in her? And when the chips are down will she do what she can to save their lives, or will she let them fall?

Tw: explicit language, cigarette usage, slight panic attacks from original character, slight animal cruelty, and original character briefly thinking violent thoughts.

Will include more in-depth TW and synopsis when updated to ao3. For now, this is what the chapter offers.

Marianna was sitting on the curb outside of Steinhaur’s diner, the only place in Chicago she felt like being at right now when Hall came up walking out from his pickup truck that he parked somewhere behind her. Silently, and infuriatingly watching her as she smoked down her cigarette to the filter. She had just spent thirteen hours with the man in that rusted old Ford and was still unhappy to see him.

It was the coldest day in Autumn for Chicago on record, at least in the last six years that she could recall. She could see the electronic thermometer posted underneath a bank sign which happened to be directly across from the diner, still reading a cool twenty degrees Fahrenheit since the moment she sat down.

God only knew why this hellhole was staying so frozen months before winter.

Marianna worked as an army nurse and had been doing so for the last six years, which meant as of recently, her time was up in the military. She swore on her life, hand on the Bible that she would give her country seventy-two consecutive months of her life. Mainly, to administer penicillin shots and look at deformed genitalia at the base's military hospital.

But, she gave it regardless. Now, her time was up. She could have ripped her military contract up and traveled home in that instance. Giving the military the huge middle finger on the way out for all the grief she faced for the last seventy-two months. But, she lingered, for whatever ungodly reason she didn’t know.

Maybe it was the way the higher-ups or even the way Hall had coaxed her to think differently. To stay in the military, join the reserves, finish her education, and ‘come back better than ever!’. It wasn’t what most did. It wasn’t even brought up as an option to most people. People who were not interested in the fight for their country and leaning more on the healing side were just not as valued. At least, not in her experience.

“You never know,” Hall had told her with a knowing smile, “You could get a promotion one day!”

But, she already moved up in the ranks before. Straight from second lieutenant to first after she graduated nursing school, then remaining stagnant for the rest of those six years. She didn’t think she could move any further. Perhaps, that’s why she agreed. Wanting to achieve that little twenty-one-year-old’s dream of reaching Captain, or maybe even Major. That was the odd thing about moving up in the ranks, you didn’t get much from it. Perhaps a raise in pay, and a little respect. But, you still wanted it all the same. Mari had wanted that at one point, too.

But, unlike Lieutenant Colonel James Hall. Who was one of her base’s licensed nurses, her nursing professor, and above all, her superior. Whether or not Marianna wanted what he had was still up in the air. Marianna very much identified herself as a drifter and enjoyed being moved from place to place depending on her deployment. Climbing up the ranks meant stability, and having to stay and chip away at the mountains of red tape that a higher rank demanded didn’t seem like her speed. Now, Mari had already decided that Hall could keep all that responsibility to himself. Marianna, on the other hand, enjoyed going back to her bed at a cool seven AM after a full shift wherever she was sent. And not having to stay in one place for more than a year or two.

But, she still agreed to join the reserves despite it all.

She realized, somewhere at least, that she should be happy that she could avoid deployment for the first time in six years. That she could get off of active duty. That she served her respective time. She should have been thrilled. She could stay home, sleep in her bed, wash up in her shower.

Be with her family.

Marianna cringed back into her neck at the thought, taking one of the five empty cans of soda she was collecting as ammo and hurled it at the fat, plump-bellied vermin as it tried to cross over her feet again. She had been hurling cans at the little creatures for the past fifteen minutes as they ran back and forth on the empty street, occasionally running over her boots and bringing out an uncharacteristic amount of fear in Marianna. She watched as the little rat gave a pathetic squeak as the can banked off its chunky body and ricocheted away to be carried off by the harsh autumn wind. It looked back at her with offending, rabid eyes before it scurried away.

That was the one part of Chicago she hated. Or any big city for that matter. The rats. Rodents, specifically, were one of those creatures that Marianna had no trouble hating with their small, unblinking eyes and round bodies jumping with lice and all assortments of diseases. Normally, she wouldn’t show her cruelty for another life so willingly in front of another person. But, this time Hall had caught her like the sneaky sonuvabitch he was.

“What are you doing, Mari?”

“The rats,” She answered, realizing how lame she must have sounded when all the rats now had scurried away from her warpath moments ago, all beyond the last brave one she chucked at. “They kept touching my feet.”

Hall nodded once, briefly. He was a behemoth of a man, large and beefy with a blond buzz cut right down to the scalp. His eyes were a tired, graying blue, speckled with age and deep fine lines from his many decades in the service. He was out of his fatigues now, she noticed and wore a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, which contradicted with his rough and torn denim jeans. He looked at her closely, “You shouldn’t be doing that, you know. Those things bite.”

“I was throwing shit at them so that they wouldn’t bite me.” She answered, blandly.

Hall nodded as if the topic no longer interested him.

“I can tell you’re avoiding going in.” He said, tilting his head at the entrance of the diner before returning his gaze to her.

She didn’t answer him, just mindlessly twirled an empty can of soda in her hands as she waited for more rats to appear. Until she felt a sudden sharp poke on her left shoulder, forcing her to look back at him. Hall was pushing a small box of menthols into her shoulder with an easy smile. “You can’t avoid her forever.”

“She’s not even in there.” She said, waving a hand in the direction of the near-empty parking lot. Showcasing only three motorcycles and his pickup truck in the minimal spaces. Like this would have been enough to prove her point.

“But she’s going to be. You said so yourself, best to get the drop on her in a public space than just showing up at her home.”

Marianna grunted. Understanding that she did indeed say that and still believed it was a better idea than barging in her sister’s home, metaphorical hat in hand, and on her knees in forgiveness. She knew people had to do embarrassing, and sometimes rude things to be forgiven. But, a line had to be drawn somewhere.

Coldly, she gently took the menthols from his hand and began unwrapping the protective plastic. Reaching for her lighter in her jacket pocket with a fresh cigarette fitting neatly between her lips. Marianna had already changed out of her uniform fourteen hours ago. Opting to wear her faded tight blue jeans, under an army green tee-shirt that read “Army Nurse.” Her father’s worn leather jacket wrapped snugly around her form. Letting her red hair drape down her back to produce some well-needed heat to her neck.

She wanted to look like herself for her sister. Instead of the soon-to-be-nurse dreaming of saving all the heroes six years ago. That person didn’t even exist to Mari anymore.

Initially, she had been planning to take a bus or a plane from New York to Chicago. Hall, stopping her before she could even consider buying a bus ticket, already planned on going to Chicago for his annual trip to see his son. But, she knew his real reason for insisting he take her. He knew her history, knew she would take any reason to chicken out about going home.

“Your contract is up,” He had said to her, holding her luggage in one hand before tossing it into the back of his truck. “And your new one for the reserves doesn’t start for another two months. I’ll take you. It’s on the way. It’s cheaper.”

She still had no idea why she agreed. Only choosing to do everything on a whim before she changed her mind. The need to see her sister, her family, was so immense that she didn’t even bother to let the fact that she wouldn’t want to see Mari begin to cloud her judgment.

Now, she didn’t want to move, regret gluing her boots firmly to the payment. And instead of looking back at Hall, she looked over at Steinhaur’s parking lot again. Fixing on the same spot as she had been the whole time she was here.

Only six places were put side by side at the curb of the diner, and on any given day only three of four were used when she lived here. Even in the farthest recesses of her childhood, this place was never busy. Still wasn’t even now. Today, only three places were used with three motorcycles in the limited space beyond Hall’s truck. Marianna had been watching the bikes, waiting for the owners of the bikes to come out for a long while. Mainly, to ask them questions on their models and makes. But, when they never came out she just opted for just staring at them.

Two out of the three were packed into one space together. Modern and sleek in design. One was cherry red, perhaps a Suzuki series, she surmised. Made to be a sports vehicle to be admired and looked upon. The other was a dark blue motorcycle of what she believed to be a Honda Valkyrie. A true beast of a motorcycle with a monstrous amount of horsepower and purr in its engine.

The last bike, sitting alone in a single space beside its beautiful brothers, had Marianna salivating with envy. A brand new Daytona Harley-Davidson. Black, sleek, slim, and with bright shades of silver in its chrome trim.

If she remembered correctly, only 1,700 of those babies were produced. What she wouldn’t give to jump into its seat and take it for a spin.

Marianna used to work on bikes, cars, and vehicles of all sorts. Motorbikes are one of her favorites. She tinkered with them, played with them, and even blew one up in her father’s garage once when she was a teenager. She was never as proficient as her sister probably is now as an auto body mechanic, but she knew how to work a motorbike and how to make it work for her. It was the one thing she had pride in.

But, she noticed, the bikes had no logos, no insignia, no brand markings of any kind. Just smooth paint where the mark should be. And while she remarked that this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Even some of her old clients made specific remarks that they wanted old brand markings rubbed out, pulled off, and recovered with a new coat of paint. But, most wanted that status symbol. For people to see their brand new Honda or Harley-Davidson. It was an ego thing if nothing else.

Additionally, the designs were off in the small details of the bikes. As if the bikes were built lovingly by skilled hands from the ground up. Pieces were mix-matched, bending in weird shapes she didn’t recognize for particular bike parts, and above all, an odd shape was given to each of the bike's headlights.

They were shaped exactly like a mouse head. Round faces with rounded ears on each side. Or, at least as round as forging metal could provide. Which ended up giving the mouse heads a bit more of an angular shape.

A gang symbol, perhaps? She wasn’t sure, it had been so long since she had been involved with Chicago’s darker underbelly.

Marianna took a deep, final drag of her cigarette, mashed it out on the curb, and turned to look at Hall. He was leaning against the wall of the diner now, directly beside the entrance. His arms crossed, with that ensuring and relaxed look in his gaze. Waiting for her.

Grimacing, she got up, freezing, and strode over to him. Called him an asshole one more time, and opened the front door.

The first thing she noticed when she opened the door, is that she was right. Her sister was indeed not there, or at least, not yet. But, she knew the room; had known it all her life. It was rectangular, the walls a creamy white, and decorated with small black and white photographs. A counter ran the length of over half of the entire room near its center and was decorated with old-fashioned cushioned stools. On each side of the room was a table with decorated red and blue cushioning. Above her blue fluorescent lights flickered, carrying the dead and long-gone corpses of flies in their casings.

Not a single thing about this place had changed since the 50s, and that brought on a sense of comfort for Marianna.

In the back, through the kitchen window, she could see the head of Mr. Steinhaur. Still as tall and as lanky as she remembered, he lowered his head at whatever task he had at hand. She couldn’t see him, not fully from her angle, but could still see the wisps of white hair peaking out from his soda jerk hat, and that tanned patch of skin on his forehead; but she still smiled at him, at that small mental image she was exposed to. She knew he would still look like that old, jolly man that she remembered from her childhood and it had effectively cooled at what anxiety she felt.

Then she looked over at the three figures at the end of the counter closest to the kitchen window.

Good God, that is a lot of hair.

It was three men, or what she supposed were men. Each sits side by side at the far left side of the bar. They were young, maybe even Marianna’s age, but it was impossible to tell with all that hair in the way.

Two out of the three of them were ideally chatting to one another with loud and booming voices. One sitting calmly with his hand wrapped around a beer stein, the foam of it dripping off the sides and lazily onto his hand. Which was also covered in an unrealistic amount of fur.

The younger one, which Marianna decided solely based on his young, almost chubby face beneath the mounds of stark white fur. On his right side he appeared to have a metallic, chrome mask covering the entirety of his right eye and cheek. He was shirtless, beyond a pair of green bandoleers crossing over his broad chest. He was the instigator of his friend’s conversation. Waving his hands in an exaggerated motion, constantly moving, and speaking.

His companion, the Goliath of a man, had been listening quietly to his buddy’s rantings. A quiet and blissful smile on his gentle, gray features. His face was harder than the smaller ones. Filled with jagged and angular lines underneath the fat of his mousy cheeks. His face was partially taken out of view by a black eyepatch on his left eye. He was shirtless as well, beyond hard armor plates across his chest and strong shoulders.

As he listened to the younger one chat away he pawed at his right arm mindlessly with his other hand. It was bulky, sleek, robotic even. A prose hic that moved freely with unconscious movements as if it were his good arm.

Her gaze fell on the last of the trio. At the very end of the table sat the last man, sipping mindlessly at his overfilled glass and staring out into the diner. Regardless of the diner being empty beyond the five of them. His features were softer than the rest of his group, thoughtful, and pensive. His face looked soft, cushioned with shaggy, sand-colored fur that fell over his obscured eyes. Like the others, his face was shrouded in one way or the other. But both his eyes were covered by green-tinted shades that hid any color or movement he could give off. Again, he was shirtless, but he seemed to be the most covered of his comrades. Having a black vest covered over almost the entirety of his midsection and a cherry-red bandanna wrapped around his thick neck. A furry, rounded ear had perked up every once in a while when the conversation of his friends had hit a crescendo. Beyond this, he didn’t move, only looked out like he was observing the world through the eyes of Earth’s only outsider.

She eyed them, vastly aware of how her jaw hung open as if the hinges of an old door were loosened. Unable to close fully even if she tried. And how a cool sweat was starting to form across her forehead and the middle of her back.

Muscular, tall, covered head to toe in fur, round ears pierced by studs, protruding snouts, small black noses, large buck teeth, and swinging large, slender tails from behind their chairs. And shirtless. Why in the world were they shirtless?

They looked like mice. Gigantic, overgrown, rats.

She noticed then, that the blond one turned his head slightly to her. Her stomach lurched and she wondered if he was looking at Hall or her until he reached a hand up and pulled his green shades down to the bridge of his nose.

He was eying her with a curious, interested gaze. But, somehow, with eyes that she knew he wasn’t seeing her with. And she was too focused on how his eyes were a dark, ruby red. He winked and her body decided to make her hair simultaneously stand on end as well as pushing blood to her frost-bitten cheeks in a furious blush.

Then as soon as he pulled his shades down, they were back up on the bridge of his nose and hiding his eyes. Like nothing had just transpired between them.

Hall’s booming chuckle pulled her out of her stupor, along with a sharp elbow to her side. He was standing behind her, she realized, smiling with mirth at the three furred men at the bar.

“Ha! Hey look, Davidson! Halloween came early this year!” He chuckled, rounding her frozen form to walk to the bar and sit right beside the three men. “Come on, Mari. I’m starving.”

She looked at him with as much equal horror as she did with three mice just a second ago, and then felt that horror mix in with an unbridled amount of fury when she saw him walk up to the blond mouse, sit two seats away from him, and give him a generous wave.

“Howdy! You fellas sure do love the Halloween season. Love that for you! Mind if I sit? I always tell myself that sitting at the bar was meant for strangers looking for friends. I’m James, you can call me Jim.”

Mari watched Hall go on. Watched the three men smile politely at him, and chat with him idly. She watched him, feeling hot betrayal at his inability to read a room, to read her, and his insistent need to make friends with everyone he meets; then thinking one single thought over and over in her mind like a broken record.

I’m going to kill him. I’m gonna paint the ceiling with his gray matter, then do the same to myself. What the absolute fuck?!

Then another thought came rolling in as if to save her from her upcoming murder charge.

Halloween. Yes, that’s right. It’s the middle of October. She thought, letting the smallest amount of relief wash over her. That would explain the weapons, the biker boots, the armor, and even the lack of proper autumn clothes. These gentlemen must have been heading to an early Halloween party. Even the red antennae, that Marianna had just noticed was protruding out from the tops of their fluffy heads, was all a part of some elaborate alien costume.

Or, something for a Star Trek convention in town.

She mashed down what was left of her horror and made her way to him, wordlessly moving her legs to make contact with the seat to his left; a good and healthy barrier between her and the personifications of her murophobia. She relaxed, until she suddenly felt Hall’s strong hand on her arm, giving an exaggerated pull and then throwing towards his opposite side before she could sit down. She felt herself tumble and fall gracelessly into a seat. Unaware of where she had landed because her vision was currently lighting up with the short burst of pain in her chest. She had fallen ribs first into the surface of the bar.

She groaned. Blinking the pain away and simultaneously straightening herself in her seat to sit more comfortably. When her vision steadied, she was already looking up at him. His face softened to an apologetic smirk, but still one filled with jovial good humor.

“Sorry Davidson, didn’t meet to chorale you into the table like that.” He said, then turning his apologetic grin to the person behind her. “She’s so bad at talking to people. You’d think she wouldn’t be, being a nurse and all—that’s what we are, by the way. But, she’s terrible at talking to anyone that she doesn’t have an IV in!”

He was still babbling when she turned around to look at who he was talking to. Knowing she didn’t have to look. She knew who he chose to sit close to.

All three of them were staring fixedly at her when she turned. Sometimes switching their gazes to look up at Hall as he spoke to them and gave polite nods of understanding. Specifically, more from the gray and blond ones; but more often than not, choosing to look back at her with their feral red eyes. Their rounded ears twitched, and large slender tails moved around their backs as freely as wild snakes. Looking at her as if she was the strange one.

Could I blame them? Hall did toss me into this seat like a professional wrestler.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hall shouted suddenly, placing a gentle hand on Mari’s shoulder and fanatically waving his hand in her direction, almost as if he was presenting a new car on the lot to welcome buyers. “This is Marianna Davidson, First Lieutenant of the United States Military. My subordinate.”

Mari scowled, shrugging off his touch. The last thing she needed was to be formally introduced to the objects of her irrational fear. Let alone be introduced as someone’s subordinate.

As far back as Mari could remember, she was afraid of rats, mice, and all rodents of any kind. There was something about their twitching pink noses, black marble eyes, and the way they would scurry across her feet in her bedroom at night.

She particularly hated the way they would squeal. Their tiny little bodies getting trapped in the nooks and crannies of piling garbage or too-narrow walls, and squealing their little lungs out with every death-fearing twitch they had in them.

She would keep her fear relatively bottled up. Usually, preferring to throw things at them from a distance, or keeping out glue traps and rat poison until the problem sorted itself out. It was easy to deal with, and easy to ignore. How often did a person who constantly had to travel and had a compulsion to keep everything neat have to deal with rodents?

Very slim to fuckin’ none, until I came here.

More and more she was realizing that coming back to Chicago was a mistake. First, she was dealing with her childhood phobia in the form of muscular nerds dressed as—

—Biker—alien—mice?

She breathed trying to cool the anxiety that was seeming to rise and fall in weird intervals in her. Knowing that her mind and her body were in a weird fight between logic and illogical fear. Creating a swirl of punching, fighting, clawing chaos that begged and screamed for her to run. But, also, kept her firmly seated on her cushioned chair. Her pride wouldn’t let her run from perfectly nice strangers. Even if their costumes were a little too realistic.

“Say hi, Mari.” Hall had said behind her.

Mari blinked, realizing that she was still looking up at the furred-nerd-mice-men. She hadn’t moved, perhaps hadn’t even had the opportunity to blink. She was simply looking up at their gigantic forms without even a sound leaving her mouth.

Then realizing she had spent a lot longer than a normal amount of time to summon the courage to speak, she choked out a shallow: “Hi. I’m Mari, like he said. Nice to—meet you.”

She paused, then looked over her shoulder to meet Hall’s gaze again for his assistance. “Misters?” She drawled out.

The white one chuckled first, his voice sounding light, and playful, “Misters? We’re the baddest mamajamas on this side of the universe, sweetheart.”

Oh, this is a bit. This is definitely a bit. “And that means—what?”

The gray one rolled his singular red eye and looked down at his smaller friend, exasperated. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to tease a lady?” Before that eye fell on her, and he smiled with the full of his crooked teeth.

“I’m Modo,” he said pointing a thumb at himself, then at his friend. “That’s Vinnie, don’t mind him Mari-ma’am.”

He said that last part soothingly. Stringing the words of her name and ‘ma’am’ like the words belonged together. If his face and blood-red eye weren’t so jarring, she would have found his low voice, and sweet tone endearing.

Then Modo waved a hand in the direction of the silent blond mouse, who was still looking at her. His face was stoic and still as stone, but holding a smile that was gentle and polite. “This is Throttle.”

Throttle nodded slightly in acknowledgment. The free hand not holding his half-drank stein was out in front of her. Furry fingers straight, palm open, waiting.

Mari swallowed thickly, mashing down her nerves and forcing a slight smile to pull at the corners of her mouth. It’s just a costume. It’s just a guy in a costume. A nice, weird, guy in a muscle man costume.

She reached out, and grabbed his hand, giving a firm but polite shake. Just like the military had taught her. Ignoring the way her skin immediately tingled from the contact, and how the contrast of his soft hair and the leather of his fingerless gloves made chills shoot down her spine in a rush of electricity.

“Nice to meet you, too.” He said. His voice carrying a calming, deep lithe to it.

Her stomach lurched, and she was almost ninety percent certain it was still a mixture of disgust and fear still holding a choke-hold on her body. But the other ten percent wasn’t sure, because a smile still pulled at her cheeks without her forcing it to stay.

They stayed like that for a long singular beat of a moment. Before he released his hand from hers and retrieved it to lay limply at his thigh. She only had a second to realize the contact was gone before she looked up and realized that his red antenna bounced slightly without the help or movement of his head.

Without helping it, she raised herself to sit taller and peak at the moving, bobbing protrusions.

I might as well ask them about the process of—whatever this is.

“How are you doing that?”

“Huh?”

“That thing you're doing with those antennae on your head.”

Through his specs, just barely, she saw his eyes dart from her to his friends. Who had now fully stopped their conversation to meet his gaze.

“I move it.” He said, chucking, and giving a slight wiggle to each protruding red thing.

“Well, no, I can see that. I mean, how are you making it move? Is it robotics? Are ya just bobbing your head?” She went on, leaning her elbow against the table to give a curious eye to the odd projections of his mascot head. When he made no motion to move away, but instead leaning in for her, she decided to give an experimental poke to one.

She realized then that it didn’t look as flimsy as she initially thought it did. Specifically when the little thing didn’t move or simply fell off his head from the slight weight of her finger.

Alarmed, but satisfied, she pulled her hand back, trying to graze over the fact that she touched that thing on him.

“I mean, I appreciate you committing to whatever it is you’re doing. It’s a very intricate bit to your costume.”

“Costume?” She heard them echo in mumbling tones. Even catching the attention of Hall as he also leaned forward to look at them past Mari’s shoulder.

“What are you dressed as, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking. It’s been a long time since I was involved in the sci-fi nerd scene. Haven’t done that since the 80’s. I get the mice part, I can see that, but the biker part is losing me. Are you biker—aliens, maybe?”

“Hey!” Vinnie suddenly gasped, pushing up from his seat to reveal that he had a good few inches on her. She pushed back the urge to fearfully jump, and waited, “I don’t know if you heard me the first time, or who you think we are, but nerds are far from it. We are, again, the baddest mamajamas on this side of the galaxy, sweetheart!”

She studied him at that moment, letting him glower at her playfully with those feral little red eyes. Then choosing to turn her smile up at him, trying to come across as cool and straight as Hall had been ever since he sat down. She fluttered her eyes and cooed up at him in mock appreciation, “Okay, I can play for you. I’m sure you are the most skilled and bodacious biker this side of the Milky Way.”

The young mouse-men’s eyes changed then. Carrying an air of teasing confidence, then swiftly transitioning to a surprised bashfulness.

She wondered briefly if his overconfident facade was his normal behavior. And if anyone ever agreed with his outrageous claims of grandeur.

She decided to push just a little further. Just to play. Just to tease. Just to make this whole situation less weird. “Did I mention smarts, too? I saw those bikes out there. I assume at least one of those is your handiwork.”

“Yeah, well, I—”

“Not to mention charm.”

“Ah, you—”

“And your sheer attractiveness. Has anyone ever told you how dreamy you are?”

“Sweet—”

“And that voice! Ugh, I’d pay you to read the phone book to me.”

His face was red then, painting the stark white fur of his mascot mask in a brilliant crimson. What a neat trick. She thought.

She noticed he was trying to stutter out. Perhaps a shy request for her to stop or maybe another snappy comeback for her sudden onslaught of casual flirting. She looked back at his friends. Cheeky grins took over their faces over the whole embarrassing display

“So, what are you, again?”

Her mind, admittedly, ran through the possibilities. Mostly sci-if dorks committing their entire being to small-time characters in some show that couldn’t even begin to understand.

What else could it be?

Throttle just shrugged his shoulders. “We’re mice, ma’am. Mice.” He annunciated the last word like this claim had made all the sense in the world, and explaining any further would have been a waste of his time.

“You were expecting turtles, maybe?” Modo added, chucking.

“Okay—” Mari paused, narrowing her eyes at them. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“This part is always so hard to get through to people. I swear.” Vinnie said, evidently recovered from Mari’s display of affection.

Mari looked back at Hall, an expression of ‘what joke am I not getting here?’ falling on her face. Instead of an explanation, he patted Mari’s shoulder and shrugged good-heartedly at them. “Alright, keep your secrets.”

“Anyway, Mari,” Hall said, pulling her attention back to him. “I was about to ask our new friends here if they saw your sister in today. They’re regulars.”

“Oh.” She said, simply. Then looking back at them to eye them carefully. “Are you from here? Where did you go to school?”

Their faces suddenly fell one by one, making, something akin to a deep sadness shadowing their chubby faces.

“I—” She began, her skin prickling with that same anxiety that had gripped her when she first walked in and saw them. Immediately she had said the wrong thing. Even without knowing fully what she said to upset them.

I just asked them where they went to school.

“We’re—not from here.” Throttle said, “Chi-town is more of our home away from home.”

“Oh. I see.” She said, then added as if it was to recover from whatever rudeness she had forced to change the air between them. “So, my sister?”

“What’s your sister look like?”

She paused, thinking, then made a vague gesture with her hand as she imagined her sister as close as she could get. “Looks a little like me. But, her eyes are green, and her hair is more brunette-red. Tall, slim, takes no shit. She’s a mechanic here in town, she must have worked on your bikes at least once. You would know if you met her.”

Vinnie blinked, then looked over at his friends before he chose to look back at her. a look of deep concentration crossing over his face. “What did you say your last name was?”

“Davidson. Why? You think you know her?”

Vinnie and Modo didn’t move, not looking at her. But she saw Throttle give the briefest of nods. “Would her name be—?”

“Charley!” Marianna heard a voice say from the kitchen. She turned. Seeing Mr. Steinhaur’s top half of his body peek out from the kitchen window. Perhaps, leaning on his toes to fully get his head out. “I thought that was you I heard. I’m almost done with the boys—”

He stopped, his eyes finally focusing on her. She heard him swallow from here, “Marianna?”

She smiled, giving a small shy wave from across the bar. “Hi. Mr. Steinerhaur.”

“I—hold on a minute. Stay right there!” He shouted, his head dipping back out of the window.

Suddenly, she could hear the rattle of plates and silverware as they knocked together. The next thing she heard was the kick of a rubber shoe hitting against the kitchen door, Sending it flapping open wildly, and Mr. Steinhaur to come running out of it. Two trays of food were in his hands.

She barely noticed that he had placed the plates of chili hotdogs, and fries in front of her new, alien-looking friends before he was leaning against the bar and yanking her shoulders into a tight hug. She yelped, feeling the sharpness of his chin, and his top ribs, digging into her painfully.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said, loosening his grip. But, not letting go. “I just got so excited! You haven’t been to Chicago in six years!”

“Yeah.” She said, apologetically. Then giving him a gentle pat on his back before peeling herself away only slightly to look at him, and to breathe air fully back into her lungs. “Deployment will do that.”

She saw him give a glance to the three mice beside her, then back to Hall on her left. He nodded, pulling out a small notebook from his back pocket, and then producing a small pen. Still smiling, he clicked the pen several times.

“I see you’ve already met my best customers. I hope you’re getting acquainted well. Besides Charley, these three keep me in business. What can I get for you and your friend? I assume you wanted to eat before Charley got here?”

Hall nodded for her, briefly. Giving a polite smile while taking a small glance at the menu, just below the kitchen window.

While he ordered, she took a curious glance over to her new animorphic nerd friends. But they weren’t looking at her, or at the food that was placed in front of their waiting hands. Instead, they stared, they’re faced serious and hard. Not as saddened as they were when she asked them if they were from here. But in deep thought.

She lifted an eyebrow, “Are you guys okay?”

They looked up at her, surprised, but still didn’t answer.

Suddenly, she heard Mr. Steinhaur give a surprised joyful laugh. “Well, isn’t this just perfect? Speak of the devil, here she comes now. ”

The front door opened, and the front doorbell chimed loudly in the dead silent room. Marianna turned. Tears already pricking her eyes before she could fully set her eyes on her, but as soon as she did, a singular tear fell and dribbled down her cheek.

Charley stood there. Her hand on the bar of the door, holding it open and letting the cool autumn air rush in. Long hair flowing down her shoulders of her blue button-up. She was still wearing their father’s utility belt wrapped around her tight-fitting black jeans. She had looked the same as the day she had left.

And, to Marianna’s surprise, Charley’s green eyes also filled with tears, threatening to burst.

“Mari?” Charley uttered, her voice soft and breaking.

A million things went through her mind. Mostly every apology she wanted to give her for the past six years. The other things were the memories that she had. Raising Charley in that tiny garage beside her father; being there for her when their father died; leaving her behind for the military; and the fight that ensued afterwards. All the mean words she said to her, and the ones she said right back to Mari.

It was all right in front of her. Ready for her to grab and say to her. But all she could choke out was a small, weak:

“Hi, Charley.”

#writing #writblr #biker mice from mars #oc x canon #fanfic #6000k #tw cigarettes #tw language #tw panic attack #my first fanfic in like ten years #throttle #modo #vinnie #bmfm #no beta we die like men #be gentle #its a little wordy

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Endgame II | Dark Phoenix Series P.4

Takes place during the second act of Avengers: Endgame

Read Parts 1-3 here -> Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Dr. Evelyn Alice Stark (OC)/The Eagle/Host of the Phoenix Force, Wanda Maximoff/The Scarlet Witch (platonic, eventual ally & enemy), Doctor Stephen Strange (implied romance), Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier (implied romance), Tony Stark (platonic/nephew), Howard Stark (Platonic/brother), Steve Rogers (platonic/best friend)—a lot of the marvel characters will be involved in this series since it take place during phase 3 & 4.

Content Warnings: profanity, light angst, canon divergence, mentions of violence and near death experience. | female OC (she/her) | Read time: 15-20 minutes (6000k+ words)

Premise: 5 years have past since the events of the Infinity War between Earth’s Avengers and the Mad Titan, Thanos. In that time, the universe has adapted to the catastrophic aftermath of losing half its population. Many have moved on, but others have refused. When a former ally of Steve Rogers returns out of the blue, believing to have been amongst the vanish, an opportunity arises. But to do that, they are going to need help. And the truth of what resides in Eve Stark is finally revealed….to an extent.

Note: SO for this, I am kinda going off of the comic counterpart of Jean Grey, but also similar to ‘The Last Stand,’ where the Phoenix is a separate entity in Jean. In ‘X-Men: Dark Phoenix,’ Jean was infused with the force, but was still Jean, whereas in the previous incarnations we see it having a mind of it’s own and using Jean’s body as a vessel. That’s how I am doing it for Eve, where she is basically the vessel and the Phoenix takes over control. But you’ll see where I take it as the story goes and I’m very excited, but I wanted to clarify what I’m going for this version of the Phoenix.

——————————————————————

“What’s happening to me, Tony?”

“I don’t know, Eve. But we’ll figure it out, okay? Together.”

“I feel like…..like I’m not the only one in control of my mind anymore.”

FIVE YEARS LATER

Family, friends, neighbors, classmates, the list goes on and on. Gone. With a simple snap of the fingers. Abandoned homes and buildings decorate the streets. Cars overfill parking lots. It truly was a ghost town on every corner of planet Earth.

It was the same on every planet.

Mighty heroes and those who guard the galaxy are left with an endless void of sorrow and defeat. Moving on was harder than it looked, especially when the loss came at their own hand.

Five years had gone by and that feeling remained. Some tried and pretended they were finding peace. Others accepted they could never.

The Avengers were not what they once were when the world was introduced to them more than ten years before. Those brave souls who defeated a lost God and genocidal android, lost to a mad Titan on a quest for universal damnation.

With six of the original seven Avengers out of the picture, the Black Widow was the one to keep the spirit of them alive. She was the one who stayed at the compound, when everyone else left. She was the one running meetings and sending them off to investigate. She was the one trying to keep the team together.

For five years, Natasha Romanoff was the Avenger who always answered the call.

So when Scott Lang appears out of the blue the night Steve happens to visit, frantically talking about the Quantum realm and being stuck for five hours rather than years, she was the first hand on deck at the sound of an opportunity.

An opportunity to go back in time.

Their first order of business was to talk to someone with genius level knowledge of quantum physics. And who would that be? The Iron Man himself of course. So here they were pulling up to the beautiful house by the lake where Tony now resided with Pepper and his young daughter, Morgan. The two were heading inside for lunch as the trio arrived, now they were huddled around his patio furniture.

“No, we know what it sounds like,” Scott stammers out as Tony pours four glasses of some kind of concoction for the group.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve backs him up, hands in his pockets.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck scale which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition, can we agree on that?” Tony hands him a cup, Steve thanking him. He turns to Scott and says, “In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home.”

“I did,” Scott points out.

“No, you accidentally survived. It’s a billion-to-one cosmic fluke.” Tony pours another glass adding, “And now you wanna pull a…what do you call it?”

Taking the glass, Scott shrugs and sheepishly says, “A time heist?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighs, “a time heist. Of course.” He looks to Steve and Nat, “Why didn’t we think of this before? Oh, because it’s laughable. Because it’s a pipe dream?”

“The stones are in the past,” Steve explains. “We could go back, we could get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back.” Nat adds on.

Tony shrugs, raising his eyebrows. “Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?”

“I don’t believe we would.”

The genius waves his hands, clutching a cup in his right one. “Gotta say it. I sometimes miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won’t help if there’s no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist.” Tony lowers himself onto the bench. The faces of the three show they don’t like what he’s saying, but he continues on. “I believe the most likely outcome will be our collective demise.”

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott takes a seat in front of Tony. “All right? It means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events—.” Tony cuts him off with the raise of hand.

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott,” he leans closer to him. “Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future?”

Scott scoffs, like the assumption was offensive to him. Tony asks again, “is it?”

“No.”

“Good. You had me worried there. ‘Cause that’s not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony,” Nat finally cuts in after being silent for so long. There was strong emotion on her face, determination in her gaze. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand,” he told her solemnly. “And yet, here we are.” She looks away, tears brimming in her eyes and Scott draws Tony’s attention back to him.

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. Your aunt is still here.” Scott doesn’t notice the looks that pass between Nat and Steve at the mention of Eve. They hadn’t caught him up to speed on what happened while trying to figure out how to approach the time heist. Scott continues, oblivious to the strained expression from Tony, “But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now we have a chance to bring her back—to bring everyone back and you’re telling me that you won’t even—.”

“That’s right, Scott,” he interrupts. “I won’t even. I can’t.” A door closes behind them, followed by tiny feet padding toward them. Morgan skips to her father and jumps in his lap.

“Mommy told me to come and save you.” His arms wrap around her tiny figure to hold her close to him.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony nuzzles her before looking back to the three. “I wish you were coming here to ask me something else. Anything else.” Standing, Tony holds Morgan to his chest and starts to move toward the front door. “I’m honestly happy to see you guys, I just—-oh, look, the table’s set for six.” Steve’s hand comes up to hold his elbow.

“Tony. I get it. And I’m happy for you. I really am,” he glances briefly at the little girl. “But this is a second chance.”

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. Can’t roll the dice on it.” Backing away, Tony locks eyes with each of them. “If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” He bites his lip, contemplating on if he should say the next words. It takes a moment, but he sighs and caves in. “Or, you can go across the pond to pitch your plan to—.” He stops again, not wanting to say it in front of his daughter.

Nat stiffens, as does Steve though Scott remains confused. The soldier steps closer to Tony, his voice falling into a whisper. “Are you talking about Eve?”

“Honey, would you go help mama? I’ll be there in a second.” Tony sets Morgan down and she races back inside, the group watching her go before they face each other once more.

It’s silent for a few seconds before Steve says, “When did she wake up?” His tone is calm. Almost like he expected Tony to keep the news of Eve waking a secret from him. Not once did Steve get a call or even a text in the weeks and months after he left the compound. He assumed she either succumbed to whatever was inhabiting her, or went off the grid after waking up.

“A week after,” Tony didn’t explain further. Steve took a sharp inhale, bringing his hand up to caress his jaw. Tony could see the mix of disappointment and sadness in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Tony shakes his head, lightly scoffing. “If you saw what happened, you’d want to keep it quiet too. Plus I don’t think Eve waking up in her state and seeing you for the first time in two years would’ve been good.”

“He’s right, Steve,” Nat looks to the ground, avoiding his gaze when he turns to her. She didn’t want to see the look of betrayal from him. “We had to.”

Scott just looks lost, looking between the three to get some sort of understanding. “I’m sorry, can you explain what the hell you’re talking about?” Steve ignores the question and puts his hands on his hips.

“Who all knows?” He was referring to Eve being awake.

“Well, you and thumbelina are the most recent to find out. But the night she woke, it was us two,” Tony points between him and Nat, “Rhodey, Pep, and Happy in attendance.” He clenches his jaw, the memory replaying in his head. “We, um, Pep and I felt coming out here was the best idea for her.”

Steve tries to wrap his head around the fact Eve was awake. It was a lot to take in and he felt an immense amount of relief. But the way Tony was talking about her and the fact it was kept secret for so long worried the Captain. He could feel he was not being told everything. “What happened, Tony?”

It was obvious Tony had trouble talking about whatever was bothering him. That fact it was his own aunt made it more concerning. The two were very close after everything they’d been through together. He was the one who found her frozen and captive in the desert. They took down enemies and always supported one another even if they didn’t always agree.

They were Starks. Through thick and thin.

“Tony,” Steve says again, snapping the older man out of his inner thoughts.

“You just have to go talk to her yourself,” he eventually says with a low voice. “Although, I doubt it’ll be her.”

“Excuse me?” Steve’s voice is sharp, eyes narrowed in suspicion by the alarm bells going off inside him. What the hell did the man mean by ‘I doubt it’ll be her’?

“Steve—.”

“What the hell does that mean, Tony?” He cuts him off angrily, “Are you saying Eve is gone and whatever blasted her on Titan is—-?” Tony raises his hands up to silence Steve, annoyed by him jumping to conclusions.

Although he wasn’t too far off.

“Do you remember what Thor told you before you went to find Thanos?” His eyes flicker to Nat and back to Steve. “About some ‘cosmic entity’ or being his old man used to tell him about?” Steve nods, as does Nat, and his shoulders drop from their tense position. He could tell where Tony was getting at.

“You’re saying he was right.”

“Quite possibly,” Tony sighs, scratching his neck. It was hard to explain the details of his aunt's state. Especially when the topic of question refuses to give much information. “I’ve been trying to understand it for five years. And I’ve only gotten a little bit—it’s um, it’s taken to her. Eve is sorta like its host and it’s made her different.”

“How different?” Scott asks curiously. He still didn’t fully know what happened, but he could assume it wasn’t good.

“She’s got some tricks like Wanda. I’ll give you that much,” Tony shakes his head, seeing the shocked gazes from the three. Boy were they in for a treat. He crosses his arms and looks Steve dead in the eye. “She’s not your old war buddy anymore, Cap. She won’t ever be that again. Maybe it’s for the best that you keep your distance. But maybe you can convince both of them for your expedition, although, I wouldn’t give it much hope.”

After a lunch, which mostly consisted of awkward conversations avoiding the two main topics: Time heist and Eve Stark, the three lone Avengers got in the car to make the small trip around the lake where another cabin like home resided. Where Tony informed them Eve resided.

Nerves filled them. Nat and Steve the most. Nat for the memory of what she witnessed the night Eve woke from her month long coma. And Steve for coming face to face for the first time in seven years. The last time he saw his former best friend she was unconscious with wires attached, before that was her in Siberia. The day Captain America lost his Eagle.

Steve could still picture her face staring back at him behind the barrel of a gun after firing one shot into his side when he thrusted his shield into Tony’s arc reactor. Wings were ripped from her back by his own hands during the fight. Eve was shaking, but the gun in her hands was the only thing steady. Her cold words rang in his ear, “I gave you that shield, Steve Rogers. I’m taking it back. And if you ever show your face again, mine will be the last thing you see.” She lowered the gun, but her gaze never faltered. “I hope it was worth it. Because you can never come home again.”

Thinking back, maybe Tony was right and he should abort the mission. Evelyn Stark always followed through with her promises. He should know better.

But it was too late because the car was passing the mailbox and up the driveway.

“It should just be me,” He says when Nat and Scott unbuckle their seatbelts. The redhead looks at him hesitantly.

“Steve, I don’t think that’s a good idea—.”

“Fill Scott in,” he tells her, unbuckling his own before turning the engine off. Steve doesn’t let Natasha get another word in because he’s out of the car and approaching the front steps. He didn't need to turn around to see her annoyed expression, Steve could feel it burning into the back of his head.

The super soldier makes his way around the surrounding patio until he finds the front door. Passing by a window, he glances in, but sees no sign of Eve. All he could hear was the faint sound of a record player.

Playing a song he knew all too well.

Ignoring the sting in his heart, Steve walks up to the door. He mentally prepares himself as his arm raises to knock, but before he gets the chance it opens on its own.

And no one is standing behind it.

Instead Steve finds an empty hallway. Peeking in, he glances from right to left. On one side is a sitting room overlooking the lake, the other is the entrance to a little library. Shelves cover from ceiling to floor and books align every inch of the walls.

Stepping in, Steve shakes off the feeling of uncertainty and closes the door. He doesn’t want to think about how it opened on its own. Part of him feels he already knows the answer.

‘She’s got some tricks like Wanda,’ Tony’s words remind him.

The music is louder now that he’s inside. His plan is to follow the sound of it, assuming it will lead him to Eve. The song choice was very personal to Steve and if his theory was correct, it was being played on purpose.

Steve passes the staircase leading to the second floor, and the door in the hallway which he assumes is to the basement. A kitchen entrance is to his right which then goes out to the back patio. With no sign of Eve yet, he cuts the corner into another sitting room. The melody increases, he was getting close to where it was coming from.

Finally he reaches what appears to be an office. It has celing to floor windows overlooking the lake with a finely cut wooden desk in front of it. It was alarmaning organized. In all the years he knew Evelyn Stark, never once did he see her desk so clean and arranged. Papers were always scattered with uncapped pens halfway dried out and sticky notes on the edges. Somehow she always remembered where she would place something in the mess pile, but God forbid someone messed with the desk. One time Eve nearly sent Steve into the wall for moving a file without telling her.

On the opposite wall were photos and various degrees hanging— ranging from her first in 1935 to the most recent honorary one in 2020. Chemistry, Physics, Aeronautical Engineering, Literature. The list went on and on.

In the corner, seated on a wooden night stand by a framed sepia picture of Eve with her husband and daughter, is a vintage record player straight from the 1940s.

Steve felt another sting in his heart as he eyed the photo. Eve, 31 and holding her baby daughter, Juliette in her arms while her husband, Army doctor Captain Archie Rivers stood next to them with his arm around her shoulder. They were both looking down, smiling at the baby as she lifted her tiny hand to play with Eve’s necklace.

Steve frowned as the guilt pools in him. And when he looks in between the photo and record player, he sees Eve’s wedding rings. He remembered how when the two reunited in 2012, Eve still wore the jewelry on her fingers. Then it slowly turned to her wearing them on a chain around her neck. Now they sit on a table. A symbol of her past as a soldier out of time.

Speaking of the soldier, Steve had still not seen her despite scouting the entire first floor. He backs away from the office, moving to check if she was outside the whole time. As his hand touches the knob, the record player stops. He freezes, hand gripping the knob when the song restarts after a three second pause.

Steve rushes to the office, heart picking up and stops dead in the doorway at the sight in front of him.

Eve’s back is to him, hands clasped behind her as she stares out the window. He can’t make out her face at all. She’s wearing a long deep green trench coat made out of leather with white boots. Her hair is down, cascading in long waves to her mid back, however, there’s a hue to the color at the top Steve quite can’t make out.

“‘It’s Been a Long, Long Time,’” Her voice was so different it took him by surprise. While it still sounded like Eve, there was a shift in the tone. It made her sound like a completely different person. “Released in nineteen-forty-five by Harry James and Kitty Kallen. Ironic, isn’t it? How songs can convey meaning to situations.” Steve steps into the office, while Eve remains in place. “I thought it was fitting. Took me a while to sift through those memories, but this song was special to you two. Especially you, Steve Rogers. Right?”

He didn’t like how she was talking. Almost robotic-like and void of emotion. This wasn’t Eve.

“You were supposed to dance to this song with Margaret, yes?” He didn’t answer, stiffening at the mention of his love. “Or, no, her name was Peggy. Agent Carter when in professional settings. But to both of you, she was simply Peggy. Beautiful lady she was. Intelligent, courageous, the backbone of S.H.I.E.L.D—considering all that she did for it.” There’s a slight pause. “Evelyn has very fond memories of her.”

Steve continued to stay silent, unsure of how to approach the subject. Here Eve was referring to herself in the third person as though she’s not really there. It was difficult to grasp, but somehow Steve knew it was true. And Tony’s message from earlier continued to play in his mind.

“As do you, Captain,” Her voice echoes, Steve stiffening when she begins to turn. It was a simple pivot in his direction. Hands remained clasped by her lower back and her right shoulder maneuvered to reveal Eve’s side profile.

And the first thing his eyes are drawn too are the tiny orange cracks aligning her jaw, cheek, and hairline. Then Eve is facing him head on. Well it’s Eve’s face, but her eyes are not the chocolate brown shade he was accustomed to. They were a glowing orange, similar to the cracks.

They seemed amused by his reaction, lips curling up in a smirk. “Tragic things had to end the way they did. I’m sure Margaret—no sorry, Peggy,” the tone indicated they weren’t apologetic, “—would’ve given everything if it meant you would be found. Too bad they just didn’t look close enough.” They tsked at the end.

Steve had enough, “Who are you?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” They leaned forward, still smiling. “What Tony has spent the last five years trying to figure out. What Evelyn, herself, has trouble coming to terms with when I showed her everything she wanted to know. Humans, you all crave the same thing. For everything and anything to be simple. From building cities, to bringing peace, and even an answer to a question.” The hands behind their back went to lay flat on the surface, “But the answer is not that simple, Steve Rogers, in fact, it is everything but.” They then took a step around the desk, moving closer to him.

The soldier watches them approach, keeping his gaze the same. When they got roughly an arm's distance Steve felt the air catch in his throat. Up close the cracks, though small and scattered on the outer edges of their visage, were bright and moving. The matching color of their eyes was just as blinding. And at this proximity, Steve noticed how the root of Eve’s hair was no longer a rich brown. Scarlet red took up nearly three inches until it flowed into the natural color.

“Where’s my friend?” Steve asked, eyes never straying away from theirs.

“Friend?” They repeated, tilting their (Eve’s) head, “You still see her as that? Seven years, Steve Rogers, and all that was involved yet you still view her as such.”

His eyes narrowed, offended by the assumption. “Sixty years passed before we were reunited and it didn’t change a thing. She’ll always be my friend.”

“But friends don’t betray each other. Don’t they, Steve?”

“How do you know that?” He was getting tired of this….being, having the upper hand. They were cutting into his past and memories. It was an invasion of privacy and he wanted answers. More importantly, Steve wanted to know where Eve was.

“The mind is like a library and once you have access, everything is laid out. Just waiting to be read. Page by page,” their voice falls an octave, just higher than a whisper. “Evelyn is a strong woman. It’s something I admire greatly, and why I chose to save her that day on Titan.” Steve's blood runs cold at the mention of the fateful day. They sense his distress, once again smirking. “But even those with the strongest will, eventually bend and break. Putting her in the sleep was a blessing in disguise—it made it easier for her, though she argues it did no good.” They give a shrug before adding, “I strongly believe she’d think otherwise if I allowed her to remain conscious during the entire month of her mind and body adapting to my presence.”

The way they were talking about Eve raised alarms in Steve. He thought back to the night she and Tony were brought back to Earth. By then it had been 22 days since Thanos and whatever inhabited Eve. Everything about her was abnormal, even disregarding the super soldier serum. Only Thor could provide a theory as to what transpired on Titan.

“Please,” he says after a moment, eyes pleading. “Is Eve okay? Where is she—?”

“I assure you, Captain, Evelyn is very safe.”

He wasn’t convinced, “Oh, I’m supposed to just trust your word then, right? I don’t even know who or what you are.” He gestures over them with a hand. “You look like Eve—you sound like Eve, but yet you don’t at the same time. I want to know where my friend is and why you are controlling her.”

“Contrary to what assumptions you may have of me, Steve Rogers, I have no intention of harming Evelyn. I’m rather fond of her,” They step away, putting their hands into their coat pockets and walk along beside the wall of photos. “What occurred on Titan was never my plan. I was just passing through—traveling the cosmos as I always do, when I sensed the Infinity Stones.” They didn’t see Steve visibly react to the revelation. “It surprised me. Never had more than one be in the same place—although, there was a brief moment in twenty-twelve.” The invasion of New York.

“If you saw Thanos with that many, why didn’t you take him out?” Steve asked, curious to know the answer. The threat was right there. If they knew having multiple stones together was dangerous, why not remove the reason for it.

They turn around, bottom lip jutted out in thought, “Would you have rather I done that, Steve Rogers? Had I done so, poor Evelyn would have succumbed to her injuries in mere seconds.” Steve grimaced, looking out the window and away from their gaze. “Maybe you do wish that happened. Then half of the universe would still be here.”

“I don’t wish that,” he snapped back at them, anger rising at the accusation. “She’s my friend and I care for her.”

“Yet again you—.”

“I made a mistake keeping the truth from her. I wish I hadn’t and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. The point is, we don’t trade lives.”

“Hmm,” they mutter, glancing over him. It took a moment for Steve to realize they were probably reading his thoughts, to see if he was lying. “You’re telling the truth. Evelyn will be pleased to hear that.”

“Where is Eve?” He repeated his question from earlier, though he sounded more demanding. “You keep dodging the question and it’s giving more reason to distrust you.”

“Tony was the same in the beginning. He still is, though he tries not to think about it when we’re around.” The song on the record player finally ended again. They walked over and took the needle away from the record, eyes flicking over the picture of Eve’s family. “Here’s what I will tell you, Steve Rogers. Evelyn is merely a vessel—a host if you will. I was drawn to her on Titan and decided to save her, and because she’s human and I’m…..far from that, it took time and energy for Evelyn to adapt to my…,” they snap their fingers a few times to get the right word, “habitation of her body and conscience.”

“So what does that mean?” They roll their eyes, annoyed at being interrupted.

“I was getting to that, thank you.” They let out a huff. “Anyway, hence Evelyn being comatose for nearly a month. As I mentioned earlier, she’s a strong woman—again something I admire, but it made it difficult for me to break down the walls in her mind. Not to mention the changes in her biological composition and having to get used to newfound abilities I gifted her.” They paused to chuckle before adding, “because it’s not everyday a super human becomes the host to something like me.”

“And what is that?”

“Have you really not figured it out?” They stepped back closer to Steve, looking up with mock amusement. “You’re so close you know, it should be obvious. I thought you were smarter than that, Steve Rogers. You must've realized by now your Godly friend was right all along.” Thor.

They were reading his thoughts the moment he stepped through the door. Probably even sorted through his memories before making their entrance. “You’re a cosmic entity.” It wasn’t a question, nor accusation. It was simply stating a fact.

The single nod confirmed it all. A smirk plastered Eve’s face, though it was not Eve doing the action. “I should feel flattered. I'm still a question among legends even after so many millennia. Not many can achieve such a thing.” Another step to Steve has the cracks practically glowing in his face. He could feel the heat radiation off of them.

“Eve—.”

“Has been here the entire time.” They don’t wait for his look of confusion, simply bringing a hand up to point to their temple. “C’mon, Steven, it’s pretty simple. Evelyn is a vessel, a host, to me. You didn’t think my presence meant she was gone, did you?” When Steve didn’t answer, still wrapping his head around everything, the entity continued. “I’ll explain this the best way I can. Make it a metaphor—I know humans love those.”

Spinning around, they walk around the desk and take a seat in the leather chair. Motioning to Steve to sit, which he does after a few seconds, they pull out a blank sheet of paper and threepens: a black, orange, and yellow. They first take the yellow to draw a stick figure in the middle. Then above they draw another in yellow and orange. With a black pen they draw a cloud-like object in the middle between the stick figures.

“Look at it like this,” they turn the paper so it faces him. “This is Evelyn’s body,” the bottom of the black pen points to the lone yellow figure. It then trails to the cloud above, “this here, is the state of mind. Are you following?” Steve nods and they smile, but it still makes the soldier feel uneasy. “Good. Think of it as the ‘driver's seat of a car,’ where whoever is in it, they are the one in control.” Something about the statement sends chills in Steve. ‘The one in control.’

“Now, this figure,” the pen points to the smaller yellow above the cloud, “represents Evelyn’s subconscious. Her thoughts, her memories, everything that makes up Evelyn as a whole. We could get into the whole mind/body theory, and the question of if the mind is separate from the body and brain, but I’ll leave you to do that on your own. For this scenario, the mind is separate—it’s why you’re talking to me right now.”

The pen drags over to the orange figure, “which brings me to this. This is my subconscious. I don’t have a physical body, Steve Rogers, what you saw from the footage Tony showed you is the manifestation I take form in.”

“A solar flare?” Steve asked, looking up at them.

They shrugged, “That’s one way to look at it.” They wave a hand to dismiss further discussion on the topic, focusing back to the drawing. “Going back to the driver's seat. Before Titan, Evelyn was the sole driver. Her subconscious was here,” they draw a yellow figure in the cloud and then connect the lines between all three. “Mind and body together. Then Titan happened and I saved her life. By doing so, I invaded the void between the two. So now when Evelyn is in the driver’s seat, I ride passenger,” they draw another orange figure, but this time in the cloud, connecting the two with a line.

“So you understand, Steven, I see what Evelyn sees. I hear what she hears. I feel what she feels.” It was all coming together, the metaphor giving the answers. “Her memories, her thoughts, they’re all there at my disposal. I can communicate with her even when she’s in control. She’s told me it feels like there’s a pressure in the back of her head, letting her know of my presence.”

Steve leaned back in the chair, arms coming over his chest. “So since you’re in control right now, does that mean Eve can see and hear everything too? She’s the one riding passenger?” From their analogy, it would be the logical explanation. Eve’s subconscious is trapped while the entity has control of her body.

The flicker in their expression causes him to lean forward, eyes narrowing. “Tell me now.”

“While you would be correct, I’m afraid it is not all that meets the eye.” Their left hand comes over the paper, covering the yellow figure in the cloud. And with their right, the orange pen hovers over the one representing Eve’s body. “When I am in the driver’s seat,” drawing over with orange, the yellow figure changes color. “My consciousness takes control of Eve’s body, as you can see right now. But Evelyn, she is pushed to the back. Locked away in a dark void until I release control. As you can see here.”

The paper showed exactly that. Eve’s subconscious was pushed aside when the entity had power over the mind and body. It sparked a level of dread and worry in Steve. It wasn’t hard to piece together it meant Eve was unaware what took place when the entity was in control. For all he knew, it probably meant she would have amnesia for that time period.

“You’re right,” the voice snapped out of his thoughts. He once again forgot his mind was vulnerable. “Evelyn doesn’t know. She won’t know anything we said unless one of us tells her.” They pull the paper away, folding it before handing it to Steve. “It’s why I don’t do this often—have full control. I prefer to ride passenger because it makes Evelyn weak after having her subconscious away for so long.”

He takes the paper, putting it in his jacket pocket. He assumes they want him to have it so he can explain to the others. Nat would want to know immediately so it helps to have a visual on hand. “What happens when she is away for too long?”

“Oh, well, her mind will deteriorate I suppose. Again, the whole mind-brain-body thing fits into it,” they wave their hands in defense at his alarmed expression. Chuckling, they bring them down, ignoring the fact he wasn’t finding anything amusing about the situation. “I’ve never been in control for so long to the point it was a concern. Usually Evelyn feels some fatigue, maybe a headache or is in a daze for a few hours. The only time I’ve been in the driver’s seat this long was when I showed myself to Tony for the first time. And I told him everything I’ve told you.”

Steve relaxes, but not all the way. There is still some doubt but he tries not to think about it so the entity cannot hear it in his thoughts. “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that you get to invade Eve’s mind when she’s in control of her own body, while you push her away into the dark?”

He still couldn’t over how similar yet different the smirk on Eve’s face was with the entity in control. It was unsettling. “It’s for the best that Evelyn doesn’t see into my consciousness. I have billions upon billions of years worth of memories embedded into me that it would fry her completely to have access to them.” They lean back in the chair, keeping their gaze firm on him. “Evelyn's history is like a grain of sand on a beach. Whereas mine, it is the whole perimeter. You think she’d be able to go through every grain to cond and not lose herself to madness?”

They rise from the chair, Steve doing the same as they walk around the desk and stand in front of him. Some of the cracks were starting to fade. They were about to let Eve go. “I think it’s time you speak to Evelyn. It’s the reason you came, yes? You’ve found an opportunity to reverse the snap.” Steve knew better than to question. He wondered how far their range went when it came to reading people's thoughts. “You don’t have to answer,” the smirk remained on their lips, “I already know.” Yeah, it was going to take time getting used to that.

“Can you only read minds?”

“Oh, I can do much more than that,” as they speak, a glass of water comes out of nowhere, moving in the air until it settles on the surface of the desk. Then the music starts to play. Steve turns his head to find the needle back on the record before moving away causing the song to stop. Then suddenly a voice is speaking directly into his head. “Satisfied Captain Rogers?”

Steve jumped, turning back in the chair to face them. Their brows raise, amused by the reaction. Steve shakes it off, not letting it get to him. “What’s going to happen now?” He wanted to know the context of Eve’s state being back in her body. If she would faint, be in distress, or fairly normal.

Well as normal as one can be when a cosmic entity possesses their body.

“Like I said before, I don’t do this often and the times I have she’s reacted rather negatively until I can calm her down. She’ll probably be a little scared, since she’ll have no memory of what took place. Expect her to be surprised to see you. If she attacks you just know I had no say in it.” Their eyes begin to flicker, the orange fading.

“Wait,” Steve stops them, causing the glow to return. “Who exactly are you? I know what you are, but you never referred to yourself with a name.”

Their head tilts, as if they were debating on giving him one. “Perhaps that can be the subject of our next conversation. Whenever that may be.” The cracks slowly shrink. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Steve Rogers.” Eve’s eyes twitched, fluttering close as the last of the cracks disappeared and suddenly the woman was gasping for air around her. A hand came to her chest, knees wobbling causing Steve to rush forward and catch her before she fell.

“Eve!” He shouted in relief. Steve could feel the weight of catching her pulling him down, warmth in his palms when his hands hit the leather of her coat. For a second he forgot how she was scorching like a sun five years ago. Now it was like the feeling of being out in the sun too long on a hot summer day. The type of heat where it makes one want to rush inside because it’s too hot to even breathe.

“Eve,” he says again, bringing her up to stand straight. She was panting and sweat had gathered on her forehead. He thought the rest of her hair would return to the natural color, but the red stayed, flowing into the brown. “I got you, Eve. It’s me, Steve.”

Finally Eve’s brown eyes connected with his. They were wide open with no sight of the glowing orange he had peered into just minutes before. Just looking into them Steve could tell fear and shock was swimming in them.

Her breathing slowed, but she was still panting. “St-Steve?” Hands came up to grip his shoulders. “Ste-Steve.” Water had pooled in her eyes and Steve could feel her shaking.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, keeping his voice calm. “I’m right here, Eve, I got you. Listen to me, I'll explain everything I promise.” It did little to calm her down, he could still visibly see the anxiety.

Her head started to nod, a lone tear escaping. “H-how long? How long did it have—?”

Steve shakes his head, unsure exactly of the time period Eve was locked away in the void. “What was the last thing you remember, Eve?” She blinks a few times, looking around to find the clock on the wall.

“I-I, I had just finished making lunch. I was sitting on the porch,” she glances out the door in the direction of the porch entrance. “Then I heard a car in the distance. And I—I heard you. Not your voice, but your mind. And Nat’s too and,” she pauses, thinking hard before a look of surprise takes over, followed by a gasp. “And Scott. I heard Scott, but how—?”

He gently squeezes her shoulder repeating, “I promise, I’ll explain. I just need to talk to you. Can we do that, please?”

Eve nodded again, blinking back the tears but her bottom lip quivered. “Yeah,” her voice cracked, trying to smile at him. “Yeah we can talk.”

He felt his own eyes start to water. The emotion he was feeling started to overwhelm him. Steve had really missed Eve, and finally after seven years he was able to stand in front of her again. The guilt and regret coursed through him, “I’m sorry, Eve. I really am.”

The woman squeezed his shoulders like he did to her, tearfully smiling at him. “I’m sorry too, Steve.” The second the words left her Steve didn’t hesitate to embrace her. Arms around her waist and Eve’s going around his shoulders she accepted the hug, returning it with just as much emotion.

He could feel the warmth through her clothes, but it didn’t bother him. All that mattered to Steve was the fact he was holding Eve in his arms. His best friend, who was the only person in the world he cared most for.

They had a lot to unpack. A lot to discuss. And a lot to worry about. But at this moment. Steve could feel some peace. With whatever the future held and the possibility of rewriting time with the stones, hope was on the horizon.

Now that Captain America had his Eagle.

……………………….

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