hold on to your heart

I really wish I had kept my jacket.

Despite having chucked it at Spider-man to prove a very valid point, I couldn’t have more regrets. Soaring through the air at what feels like two hundred miles an hour, the winter air feels like knives against my bare arms. 

“Let me go!” I shout above the wind again, my throat growing hoarse from the last dozen screams. 

“Trust me, kid. You don’t want that.” Stark’s voice sounds electronic as it’s filtered through his mechanical mask, and although it remains as snarky and self-assured as ever, he has a point.

I’m not afraid of heights, but even this elevation makes my head spin and my stomach churn. Cars are just flickers of headlights from up here, and even buildings are just glowing blocks that form the ever expansive city of New York. Streets look like streaky lines drawn in a maze, the millions of vehicles’ paths obscured every few moments by a dark cloud as we cut through.

Iron Man holds me like a parent holds a child throwing a tantrum. One of his arms is wrapped around my torso, my back pressed against his chest. Even though I can feel the strength of his grasp is nearly unbreakable, my hands clutch his arm with a frantic pressure that turns my fingertips white. 

“Put me down!” I insist, struggling to breathe the sub-zero air.

“Not gonna happen,” he clips. “I gave you a choice, remember?”

He’s right, and if I wasn’t so proud, maybe I’d admit that I wish I had chosen the easy way. That path consisted of a sleek black car that would whisk us back to the Avengers compound on solid ground. I guess when I told Stark that he could take his car and shove it, I inadvertently chose the hard way.

Now, I get to stream through the air like a comet while I wonder how long it takes frostbite to set in.

The clouds ahead begin to fade away, and I gasp as I see a solid object materializing out of the fog. A metallic pillar stands in our path, the Iron Man suit propelling us towards a collision at the speed of a jet. Stark twists his body sharply, redirecting our trajectory acutely to the left. We skim past the structure, missing a fatal crash by a few feet. I twist my head backwards to get a better look, and see the Empire State Building quickly fading behind us, its pinnacle nearly causing our demise.

“You’re insane!” I scream.

He doesn’t respond, but even above the whistling winds, I swear I can hear a huff of breath escape him. Not as derogatory as a scoff—more like a stifled laugh.

My eyes betray me and peek down at the streets again. Observing the thousands of feet that separate my feet from the ground makes me nauseous. At this speed, we’ll reach the compound in a matter of minutes. So I squeeze my eyes closed and force a few deep breaths, clinging for dear life to Iron Man’s arm.

Dozens of heartbeats pass, and I focus on each one to keep my mind off of the panic in my gut and the searing cold on my skin. I get so used to the scream of air in my ears that it startles me when he speaks. “Cap. We’re two minutes out.”

I keep my eyes shut, but my teeth grind angrily. “This is kidnapping.”

“Okay,” he clips, unbothered by my accusation.

I growl angrily. “You can’t just do this. I’m a human being. I have rights.”

“You’re a criminal. I have every right to take you into custody.”

“Because you fly around in a metal suit and call yourself a hero?”

There’s a beat of silence before he responds. “That ring on your finger is an extremely powerful relic. And since you’ve clearly proven to be a horribly incompetent caretaker of that relic, it’s my job to put it somewhere safe.”

“And where would that be?”

“Someplace you’re never going to know about.”

“Hey,” I snap, my eyes opening. The height doesn’t bother me anymore, and I can barely feel the cold with white-hot anger running through my veins. “I’ve managed to keep this ring safe for almost ten years without even knowing what it was. You can’t just steal it and keep it for yourself.”

“I most certainly can,” he replies. 

I struggle against his arms, not really wanting to break free and fall to my death, but having no other way to get my anger out. “Let me go!” I shout.

“Gladly.” In a moment, our movement changes. He swings his feet towards the ground, slowing our trajectory.

I look down cautiously, pleased to see the ground moving closer as we slowly descend. But a new type of fear simmers in my chest as I stare at the Avengers logo, a glowing beacon on the compound wall. 

“You know,” Stark mumbles, “you could show a little gratitude.”

“For what?” I scoff. “An involuntary flight across the state?” The pavement is closer now— only fifty feet below my swinging legs.

“We saved your life,” he counters. “And gave you what I imagine are probably the nicest clothes you own.”

“You bribed me with a bunch of ridiculous gifts to distract me from the tracker you put in my bag,” I correct.

“If it weren’t for that tracker, you would’ve been killed by those drug dealers.”

“Yeah, that’s looking pretty good right about now.” 

Our feet finally make contact with the ground, and the weight of my body feels odd on my legs. The air is warmer down here, but there’s still a nasty chill that paints my arms in goosebumps. The mechanical whirring of the Iron Man suit fades as the flight mechanisms power down, leaving a dead silence in the air as his arm releases me at last.

I don’t wait. There’s no time to think or breathe or make a plan. All that matters is protecting this ring, and I can’t do that while imprisoned at the Avenger’s compound. The moment his grasp on me loosens, I bolt.

My feet break into a sprint across the asphalt. For the first time all night, I’m thankful for the cold, because I know it will keep me alert. The pavement ends up ahead, and beyond that is acres of grass and trees. I’ve been here before, and I know that if I can just reach the fence, I'll have a chance at getting away.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Stark calls. 

His words make my heart race even faster. The feeling that he knows something I don’t makes me want to scream. My eyes dart around, looking for any sign of a threat. But all I see is a starry sky and my path to freedom.

I twist around slightly as I run, trying to glance at Stark. My chest twists anxiously. He remains where we landed, unmoved, looking calm and casual. He went through all of the effort to bring me here, and despite the fact that I’m actively trying to escape, he doesn’t seem bothered.

Why?

Before my mind can reel into oblivion, my shoulder slams into something solid. I bounce off of some type of wall, stumbling backwards as my body is thrust into a sudden stop. My head snaps away from Stark, striving to get a better look at whatever I just ran into.

But all I see is grass and trees. No wall. Nothing but air.

My breaths come faster, my hand reaching forwards slowly. I gasp slightly as my fingertip connects with a hard barrier, its form hidden somewhere between the molecules of air. Like glass, but not reflective. A completely invisible wall, placed at the edge of the pavement.

“No,” I mutter. I jog a few feet to the right, reaching out again. To my disdain, my palm presses against the unseen force. Feeling a rush of panic, I pound against the wall with a tight fist. The barrier reacts to the harsh movement, the air rippling outwards from the place I hit like the surface of a pond. But it doesn’t break. And somehow, I know that no matter how hard I punch, it never will.

I whirl back around, facing Stark. “What is this?”

“Pretty cool, hey?” he remarks, approaching me slowly. His suit begins to dissolve, like the very atmosphere is eating away at the metal. “Designed it myself. In simplest terms, it’s a force field.” He draws a circle in the air with his finger. “It surrounds the whole compound.”

I cross my arms. “So you just trapped us in here together?”

“Not exactly.” He walks past me, and to my surprise, glides right through the barrier, stepping onto the grass. I immediately try to follow, but the unseen force halts me once again. Stark raises his wrist, and I catch sight of a silver bracelet that hugs his skin. The design is plain and sleek, almost unnoticeable. But based on his gesture, I’m guessing the bracelet somehow allows him to pass through the force field.

Without a matching accessory, I’m a prisoner.

I run my hands nervously through my hair, shaking my head. “You can’t do this to me,” I protest. 

“Relax, kid,” Stark insists. “The barrier isn’t permanent. I can lower it at any time. As soon as we’re done here, you’ll be free to go.”

“You mean, after you’ve taken my ring.”

“After I’ve secured a very dangerous object and likely saved your life by doing so, yes.”

“What’s so special about this ring anyways?” I ask. “I mean, if you’re going to steal my mother’s last gift to me, I deserve to know why.”

“I have a friend who’s going to explain everything. He’s got a lot more expertise in this area.”

I’m about to ask what area he’s talking about, but my words die in my throat when I hear the distinct thud of footsteps behind me. I whip around, but the panic almost immediately dissipates when I see Spider-man jogging up to us. He stops a few feet away, bending over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. I can hear him breathing heavily, but he makes out a few strained words. “You didn’t…wait for me,” he gasps.

“What took you so long?” Stark teases.

“Ran out of…web fluid. Had to run…” He coughs. “Eight miles.”

“That’s what you get for blowing the assignment,” Stark clips.

“Come on, Mr. Stark. I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough.” He points at me. “I had to kidnap her. That’s your fault.”

Spider-man throws his hands in the air, and as he does, my eye catches on something shiny on his wrist. “Are you serious? Happy was waiting in the car to drive us here! All she had to do was get in! It’s not my fault that she’s got an attitude.”

“She can hear you,” I point out. I take a closer look at his arm, noticing an identical silver bracelet to the one Stark wears. I groan. “Does everyone have a bracelet but me?”

“Yes,” Stark says. “Now, come on.” He waves us towards the compound entrance. “We have a lot to talk about.”

I hesitate, not because I’m weighing my options, but because I dread what awaits me on the other side of those doors. I don’t have any options. Stark took those away when he activated the force field. The only way I’m leaving is if he allows it.

Or if I get my hands on one of those fancy bracelets. But the way Stark was so candid about the bracelet’s function makes me believe they’re not as easy to obtain as they seem.

So, with no way of escaping, I follow Stark towards the doors. And maybe, deep down, I’m a bit curious to know why my ring is so special. For as long as I can remember, the ring has been my greatest enemy. Acting as both a talisman to my life before, and a terrible reminder that I’ll never get those years back. Maybe now, I’ll know why it was given to me all those years ago.

“Explain this to me,” I say to Stark as we walk. “If the plan was always to just take the ring by force, why did you send your little minion to watch over me?”

“Hey,” Spider-man complains. “I’m not a minion. I’m an Avenger.”

I chuckle. “Sure. And I’m the president.”

“Mr. Stark, will you please tell her that I’m an Avenger?”

Stark shrugs. “I don’t know, kid. Avengers know how to tail a mark without blowing their cover.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Spider-man grumbles.

Stark ignores his comment, moving on to answer my question instead. “For your information, this was Plan B.”

My brow furrows with confusion. “What was Plan A?”

“Originally, we thought you might be working for someone. That ring is extremely powerful. If you were planning something, we needed to know. And even if you didn’t know what it was, someone gave it to you for some reason. Either way, the best option was to wait it out. Keep an eye on you to see how it would play out.”

“Working for who?” I ask. 

He sighs. “Look, this is all going to make a lot more sense in a minute.” He pushes open the glass doors, and I’m hit by a rush of warm air.

The inside of the compound is clean and welcoming. The walls and floors are a glossy white, and large windows and skylights keep the space lit. There’s a receptionist’s desk up ahead, the countertop decorated with lively potted plants. Behind the desk is an enormous Avengers symbol on the wall, backlit by a warm glow, and a receptionist with a kind smile. Her dark hair is pulled into a neat ponytail, and her round glasses frame her chocolate eyes. “Good evening, Mr. Stark.”

“Leila,” he greets. “How was your kid’s tournament?”

She shrugs. “Ethan scored twice, but he sprained an ankle.” She looks past Stark. “Spider-man.” She addresses him with a friendly nod, then looks past him to me. Her expression flickers ever so slightly with surprise.

“She’s a friend,” Stark says before she can ask. “No need to add her to the guest log.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “Enjoy your night.”

“You too, Leila.” He waves Spider-man and I forward, to the right of the receptionist. “This way.”

We follow him down a long corridor, the walls formed entirely of large glass windows on both sides. The floodlights outside keep the hallway bright as we make our way to a steel door at the end. I try to keep myself relaxed, but I can feel my heartbeat pick up with every step.

There’s a keypad set in the wall to the right of the door. Stark presses a lengthy sequence of numbers that, despite my best effort, I can’t memorize. He finishes the code by pressing the pound button, and the red light above the keypad flickers to green in harmony with a small beep.

He leads us through to another room, this one more cozy and intimate. It looks almost like a living room. The wall opposite us is made of floor to ceiling windows, and from this side, I can see the moon through the trees outside. Directly to our left is a small granite bar, with shelves of glasses and liquor bottles set in the wall behind. Along both walls to our left and right are two separate doors, each separated by their own obscenely large flat screen television. Where the doors lead is unknown, and I’m sure I don’t want to figure it out. But as we step further into the space, all I can think about is four ways to escape. 

The middle of the room is a few feet lower than the rest, with stairs leading down to the sunken area. There’s a few dark gray couches and chairs with decorative pillows and blankets, and a glass coffee table in the center. Under different circumstances, the space would look comfortable and inviting. But when I catch sight of the four people waiting on the couches, all I want to do is run.

Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, Hulk, and Captain America are making light conversation, but their voices quickly fade when they notice us. They all watch me intently, and the feeling makes my skin prickle. Determined to hide my fear, I stand up straighter and square my shoulders. I imagine that all they know about me has come from Tony Stark’s mouth, and from that standpoint, they probably think I’m some delinquent criminal in possession of an incredibly dangerous artifact that I intend to use for some sinister plot. And while parts of that may be true, I’m not going to let them judge me for it. I haven’t exactly been dealt the easiest hand in this life. I’ve done the best I could with what I was given.

“Guys, this is Violet,” Stark announces. “Violet,” He points to each of them in turn. “You’ve already met Nat. That’s Wanda, Bruce, and Steve.”

Despite knowing exactly who they all are, it still feels strange to hear him refer to them so casually. Like they’re just his coworkers, and not internationally famous superheroes. 

Steve stands, walking up to me with an outstretched hand. “Violet. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

I shake his hand tentatively, while trying not to think of all the horrible things Stark must have said about me.

I don’t miss the way his eyes linger on my ring as he grasps my hand in his.

I pull away from the handshake prematurely. Steve doesn’t seem surprised. He nods slowly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I cross my arms. “Wish I could say the same.”

His brows raise slightly at that. Stark chuckles. “Told you she has an attitude.”

“Right, well,” Steve mutters. “We have a lot to discuss.” He gestures towards the couch pit in the middle of the room. 

I make my way over slowly. The room is really quite large, and there’s plenty of space on the couches for even all seven of us to pile onto one. But I don’t exactly feel like cuddling with the people who planted a tracker in my bag so they could spy on me and steal from me. So I pick a chair at the head of the coffee table, avoiding eye contact as I sit.

There’s a few moments of awkward silence as Stark and Spider-man find a place to sit. Then a soft voice addresses me. “Violet.” I look up, locking eyes with Natasha. She smiles faintly. “It’s good to see you again.” I’m immediately transported back to that room, where I woke up with a bullet hole in my stomach. She seemed so genuine then, and I have to remind myself that she was a part of putting the tracker on me. Maybe it was even her idea.

But there’s a kindness in her eyes, just like there was then, and I just can’t bring myself to say anything rude.

And yet, I can’t fathom anything nice to say, either. So I let my eyes fall down to the coffee table. No response is just as good as any.

Stark clears his throat. “Let’s get down to business. The kid doesn’t want to be here.”

“The ‘kid’ is almost twenty,” I grumble, but he ignores me.

“Bruce,” Stark addresses. “Care to give us a brief history on the ring?”

Banner turns towards me, his hulking stature making even Captain America look like a child. He wears a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and what I must imagine are custom made jeans and a gray hoodie. His stubbled jaw and kind eyes look almost human, but his pale green skin and tree trunk arms betray his true nature. “Ah, yes. The ring. Well, there have been many names throughout history, but most of them roughly translate to mean finite.”

“Finite…” I muse. “As in infinite?”

“As in the opposite,” he corrects. “Confined. Restricted. Limited. You see, that ring is one of six similar objects that all possess the same power.”

My eyes briefly flit down to the ring on my finger, its presence seeming more precarious by the second. “Power?” I ask. “What power?”

Banner shoots Stark a quick glance. Stark nods, almost in approval. Banner sits forward apprehensively. “To contain an infinity stone.”