Legend

As the immediate shock of the apartment fire wore off, depression crept in and it was harder to get up in the morning and drag myself to work. Especially when I knew there wasn't much work to go into. It took several days before Tony and Bruce could meet, so it was excruciating to go to my office. After the first two days of my return, nobody had made appointments. I talked to Doug about it and he went back upstairs, taking the cactus with him. I missed the company but there was no point to having a receptionist anymore. The last thing I had him do for me was to create and print letters and envelopes to my former clients announcing the closing of the business, telling them to contact me to arrange for their records to be sent.

I had signed these letters and had grimly finished stuffing them into the envelopes when my uncle came in, looking around with a faint frown on his face. "Sweetie, where's Doug?" he asked. "What's going on?" and he gestured at the room where equipment was boxed up.

I sighed and told him everything, how my clients had fallen away so quickly, the finances, J deciding against joining me in the business. How depressed I felt.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, perching on the corner of the desk and petting my hair with his metal hand.

"I've got a meeting with Bruce and Tony tomorrow," I said, sighing and blinking to keep the water level in my eyes to a manageable level. "I'll tell them then what's happening and why I'm closing the business. I'm updating my resume; MIT has services for alumnae to help me figure out how to deal with this mess." I succumbed to temptation and put my head down on the cool surface of the desk. The tears started to trickle out, and I was too tired, all of a sudden, to keep fighting to tamp them down. Bucky didn't say anything, just gave me a handkerchief and kept petting my hair. One of his many good qualities is that he's not freaked out by crying females. Probably because he's had to mop me up so often. His handkerchief reminded me that all of mine had gone up in smoke and that was another thing I had to deal with.

"Sweetie, just because your business failed doesn't mean that you're a failure," he counseled. I gave him a look from one bloodshot eye. "I mean it. On paper, there was every reason to think that there would be a demand for your services. New York is pretty much the capital of superheroes and street heroes and there are precious few places they can get help unless they resort to their public identities. You just may be ahead of your time. You did what you could, you refined your business plan, and it just didn't work out. It's not a mess. You've probably been upstairs to the clinic to see if you need anything."

I nodded, then pushed myself upright again. "They said it's normal, and there's no cause for anti-depressants, which is good," I said, pressing on my eyes. The doctors had been very nice and I was glad they weren't in a rush to medicate me. He nodded.

"Why did Jaimez decide against psychiatry?" he asked. "I haven't heard that he was unhappy."

"He said that he's interested in other fields. Public health, maybe toxicology."

"Are you really ok?" he asked me, his blue eyes intent.

"Mostly," I said. "I feel a little rejected, but mostly I feel relieved that I haven't messed up his future too. Now I just have to figure out what to do with myself. But we got into a bit of a fight. He as much as promised one of his professors my DNA sample."

"And you don't know what he wants to do with it, so you're reluctant to give it to him. You've always kept that part of your identity to yourself; I wonder why the boy didn't respect that."

I was grateful that somebody understood without me spelling it out. Insistently. Our parents still didn't quite understand. "It's not anything he has to deal with," I pointed out. "But there's so much work being done on the human genome, and mutations are the hot new thing on the block. I don't like the idea of anybody messing around with my genes." He nodded.

"You want to take a break and go upstairs?" he asked. "Cookies and fur therapy. Sigurd and Torburn came in to work with us today." I brightened up and we went up to Emma's office, where I sat on the floor with the pups while he looked for the cookies. Emma hid them, too many people on the prowl. Sigurd rolled onto his back, waving his paws, as I rubbed his tummy and Torburn put his head on my lap to wait his turn. Emma came in partway through her husband's search, smiled, hopped up on the credenza before pushing aside a ceiling tile to retrieve the cookie jar. Chocolate-frosted vanilla bean cookies. She patted my shoulder and I told her what was going on.

"I've lost businesses too," she said sympathetically. "It's never easy to close up shop, especially when you've been planning and working toward it for so long." Torburn lifted his head and licked my face.

"Well, better now than later," I said practically. "And I'd hate for J to feel like he had to do something he didn't really want to."

Emma and Bucky nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit, sweetie," Bucky said encouragingly. "Now you just have to figure out what your next steps will be. Decide what you want to do." Emma tossed me a bag and I gave the pups some Milk Bones before getting up and sinking into a chair.

"Now, is there anything you need?" Emma asked.

"No, Damian asked me to move in with him," I said, waiting for their reactions.

Bucky made an old-man style grump. "I don't know that I really like the idea of young people living together," he said. "I know it's acceptable and that you certainly don't have to be married, but I've also read that your chances of getting married later are lower if you live together."

"I can't contemplate anything like that right now," I told him wearily.

"I don't want him taking you for granted," he said.

"He doesn't," I said honestly. "He's very solicitous and wants me to be happy. And I am with him."

"Good," Emma said approvingly. "How are you fixed for cash until your renters insurance pays out? I don't want you to worry about money, especially since you're moving onto a new job."

"I'm ok," I said. "I still have some money from the mad money Uncle Bucky gave me for grad school."

"I meant for you to have fun with that," Bucky said sternly.

"And I did," I told him. "I learned how to surf, bought some clothes. But I've been head down in something or other pretty constantly. And that was fun too. I like to learn." I dropped my head back on the chair. "Most of my personal stuff like my yearbooks from high school is at mom and dad's; I lost my clothes, some personal stuff, the diamond earrings I got for graduation," I said sadly. "But my diplomas are here, my textbooks and notes, and I'd accidentally left my pendant at Damian's, so it's safe too. I tripped over my messenger bag when I got up, so I just took that with me and I still have my wallet, ID, and cell phone. And the bag, happily. Could have been a lot worse." Emma nodded, and turned the conversation a little and I asked about what she was doing these days. That proved to be a very interesting conversational path, and we chatted about that for awhile. Finally I stood up and thanked her for the cookies and conversation, kissed each dog's forehead, and went to give my uncle a hug.

"You going home, sweetie?" I nodded. "I'll walk you down." It was still only early afternoon, a lot earlier than I usually went home. In the elevator, he handed me an envelope. "It's just a little something to tide you over," he said. "Don't open it now, but you need some money of your own and I know you won't ask for any."

"When--"

"I nipped down to the bank when you were talking with Emma about the new engines she's working on," he said, pleased with himself. Good. There's a limit to what he can withdraw with his ATM card.

"You're too generous," I said, leaning against him for a moment.

"You're my family," he said firmly. "You and your brother will get the money in the end, anyway, so you should have some now, while I can watch you enjoy it. Or when it can really do some good," he corrected himself. "I appreciate your work ethic, your determination to make your own success. You're a lot like Georgie, he never wanted to be given things either. But when you're in need, there's nothing wrong with asking for help from your family." He kissed my temple just before the door opened on the lobby. He walked me to the door, and I kissed his cheek. "Come find me after your meeting tomorrow, tell me what happens," he requested, and I nodded.

I went to Macys on my way home. I needed some business clothes and underthings. And hankies. I was in a dressing cubicle, trying on a rich plum suit with an A-line skirt and close-fitting jacket before I thought to open the envelope Uncle Bucky had given me. I nearly fell over when I took out a stack of bills. Benjamin Franklin gazed up at me calmly. Five thousand dollars.

Holy smokes. Well, I'd be able to afford a couple of suits and some lingerie, no problem.

I walked out of the store with the plum suit and a black one, suitable shoes, a couple of blouses, a pair of black wool trousers, lingerie, a couple of sports bras, socks, hose, and handkerchiefs. I'd also picked up some perfume, skincare, and cosmetics; I hadn't bothered to replace that stuff yet. There had been a good sale, so I hadn't even dented the money stack too much. I did splurge and took a taxi home. In the suite, I tucked the envelope in the room safe and started taking off tags and opening boxes. I'd have to be in really dire straits to not enjoy the fun of hanging up new clothes and playing with new cosmetics. I put in a load of laundry--the suite had a top-of-the-line washing machine that washed my delicates more delicately than I did--and stretched before I took a bath to relax. My muscles were tight with tension and grief.

I woke up disoriented in the gathering dark. "Sweet pea?" Damian called out.

"In the bathroom," I replied, sitting up in the lukewarm water and rubbing my eyes. He came in, flicked the switch, and I took a moment just to enjoy the sight of him in his perfectly-cut suit, knowing the delights underneath. He smiled at me, then came over to kiss me. I stood up, water sheeting off my skin, and he took a moment to look at me with appreciation, skimming his fingers over my collarbone.

"So beautiful," he said breathlessly, then handed me a towel before holding my robe for me. "You're chilly. Wanna warm up?" he asked, eyes sparkling. After we made love, he cuddled me close and asked how my day went. I told him briefly, then asked about his. He had a couple of interesting stories, then we got up and he insisted on making me dinner. "I like to do things for you," he said, when I protested. "You've been through the wringer and I like to dote on you. It's new for me," he said, suddenly shy. Peeking at me through his thick black lashes, he watched me. "I've never cooked for a woman before. I'm trying to show you that I'm a good catch, the right man for you. I want you to feel you've made a good choice, moving in with me."

I walked over to him and put my arms around him. "I know I've made the best choice," I said simply. "I'm not sure what you see in me, besides the outstanding sex, but I'm just glad you do. You don't have to try so hard."

I can almost feel his eye roll. "Incendiary sex aside, you were nice to me when I didn't deserve it, my friend when I didn't want one, smart, funny, so capable. You're not overawed by my dad, you're not trying to see what you can get out of me. You accept who I am, flaws and all. You let me love you." His hands tightened on mine. "You're the perfect woman for me." And he turned to kiss me, hugging me gently, before releasing me and patting my butt. "You can set the table," he offered, and I grinned and hopped to.

After dinner, Aslyn called and we hashed out a time and date for a memorial service for Margaret and divided up responsibilities. Then we chatted a bit; she was sorry to hear about the business and J, but pointed out that now I had the opportunity to do whatever I wanted to. We arranged to have lunch in a couple of days and I cuddled up with Damian, who offered to get the photograph of Margaret blown up and printed for me. I knew the one I wanted to use; it wasn't a formal portrait but a candid I'd taken freshman year. She loved class so much; every time she raised her hand her face just lit up. I sent it from my phone and he studied it.

"It really shows her enthusiasm, her love of learning," he said, snuggling closer. I relaxed against him as I called the MIT club to make arrangements to hold her service there, then called Cara, Bess, and Martha to let them know. They said they'd be there and glad that we'd be at the clubhouse since we weren't going to do this at actual MIT.

"I miss it, though," Cara said wistfully. She was coming to the end of her PhD program at the University of Michigan.

"I don't miss the winters," said Martha, enjoying the sunshine at the California Institute of Technology, also working on a PhD, but in astrophysics.

"I miss you guys," I said, and they all agreed with me. After we all hung up, I called Emma and asked if she'd meet with my friend Bess as a treat for her, and Emma was happy to talk shop. "I don't know any nuclear engineers or astrophysicists," I sighed.

"Wayne Enterprises has a group working on thorium reactors," Damian volunteered. "Want to see if I can't set up a meeting?"

This kind of thing is part of the reason why I love him.

I ordered some flowers for the service and sent an email about the memorial service to Vanilla; I didn't have his phone number and didn't want to find it. Cara and Bess were going to arrange the refreshments, and Martha was going to contact people for photographs of Margaret that we could use in a tribute video. She was also going to contact Margaret's faculty advisor at MIT; she'd been an author on a paper they'd written at MIT and stayed in touch after graduation. I was going to contact her workplace at the city and come up with a playlist of music she liked. Then Aslyn called back and suggested we change it from a memorial service to a life celebration. I liked that and thought that Margaret would have approved as well.

It was a horrible thing to do, to have to plan a celebration of life for someone who'd just really started hers, but it was the last thing we could really do for her. I shot out an email and suggested we ask for contributions to MIT's scholarship funds in lieu of flowers, and this was enthusiastically approved. Nobody wanted to release anything; balloons were harmful to the environment and creatures like doves and butterflies probably wouldn't live long in the city. "Plus there are enough pigeons," Aslyn noted succinctly, making me smile. Damian scrolled through ideas on his phone and suggested getting pocket charms for attendees, little pewter hearts that came in organza bags and a card with a saying printed on it. We liked that idea and he offered to do that as well. We wanted to wait until we had a list of attendees before asking people to speak--we didn't want it to be just us--and then we were about as planned as we could get for now. I went to bed feeling satisfied at our progress and also guiltily grateful I'd had something else to focus on rather than my own stupid mess.

The next day, when Damian dropped me off at the tower, I was dressed for the meeting in my new black suit and I'd bothered with makeup and a nicer hairstyle than the ponytail I usually wore to work. I double checked everything downstairs to make sure I hadn't left any personal items behind, then went upstairs. I was early, but both Bruce and Tony had beat me there. Tony raised an eyebrow at my attire as they stood for me, then we sat. There wasn't much point to pleasantries, so I just told them about J's decision, what had happened to my business, and why I was shutting it down. The men sat in silence as they contemplated this.

"What are you going to be doing now?" Bruce asked.

"Polishing my resume," I said, managing a small smile.

"Don't do anything too suddenly," Tony said. "Give me some time to think about this, think about where I can best use you in the business, and I'll make you an offer."

Bruce scowled at him. "What industries do you think you'd like to work in?" he asked me.

"I think I want to go back to biological engineering. In school I was interested in genetic applications or in energy."

"Well, Wayne Enterprises has a medical division," he suggested. This time it was Tony who scowled at him. "Give us a few days, then let's meet again and review some proposals." Tony reluctantly agreed, and I thanked them for their consideration.

"Take a few days off," Tony said, studying me. "You look terrible. A couple of days off isn't enough to bounce back from that fire."

"I hate to admit it," Bruce said, "but you do look run down. Is Damian taking care of you?"

I smiled. "I couldn't ask for more." Bruce sat back, smirking slightly in satisfaction, and Tony looked nettled at this reminder of my personal connection with his rival.

The next day I slept in, and Alfred showed up around noon with a big pot of turkey noodle soup, packed with vegetables and accompanied by baguettes still slightly warm from the oven. A pattern of sleeping in was quickly established, my only responsibility was going to class, and not being around people made me feel like I could cry when I needed to without upsetting anyone else. It helped a lot, and I was gradually able to relax and work through the incidents. By the time I got a call from Tony to set up a meeting, I'd gotten through the trauma of the fire and Margaret's death, the worst of the survivor's guilt, and J and I were speaking again although he still didn't really understand why I wouldn't give the sample. Well, he was a bright guy, he could figure it out eventually. Damian continued to spoil me. It made him happy to give me a flower here and there, a couple of exotic chocolates, texts that just said 'Thinking of you.' And I liked him to be happy and it was fun to get the little treats as long as they weren't too extravagant. I spoiled him too with massages and dinners; he wasn't much for receiving flowers himself but I sent him apple blossoms--good fortune-- when he closed a big deal for his company.

I felt considerably better when I went in for the second meeting. Bruce went first and outlined a job centering on toxicology. It sounded really good, investigating how chemicals affect DNA mutations. It would be in the same building where I worked in high school--I could pop down to say hi to Dr Reynaud periodically, and I could go into work with Damian in the morning. Tony had tricks up his own sleeve, though.

"I'm offering you an opportunity in energy," he said briskly. "I'm kind of the big name in novel energy sources these days, and I want to move beyond the arc reactors; they require hard-to-find metals that are problematic to mine and process, environmentally speaking. I'd like to research the use of bacteria, which are abundant and can be non-harmful to humans. The bacteria themselves won't generate enough power, but I'm looking at them as a step in a process, possibly genetically modified. Also alternative applications, such as bioremediation--SuperFund sites could use something easy and non-damaging in itself as a solution.

"And there's another job I'd like you to consider. Your uncle isn't getting any younger, and he's been making some noise about retiring, but there's nobody in the Avengers who could take over his responsibilities teaching hand to hand. We can outsource the weapons training, but there's nobody better than Barnes. You're by far his finest student, and part of that is because you're not distracted by superhuman powers but your enhancements let you hang in there with the best of them. So my offer is a few hours each day training Avengers, then the rest of the day working on energy sources that would be relatively cheap and easy to make and safely operate."

"Is Bucky on board with this?" was all I could think to say.

"I've told him that I'm running down a replacement, and he's cautiously optimistic," Tony said crisply. "He'd be thrilled to know it's you. Guy doesn't talk much, but he likes to tell anybody who'll listen that you took out Thor and held your own with Wolverine."

"You did?" Bruce asked, surprised. I nodded.

"It should be noted that my main effect on Wolverine was to piss him off," I said dryly.

"Still," Tony said. "He lost his temper because he wasn't able to beat you. And you've gotten better since then."

Bruce mentioned the name of an internationally-recognized expert I'd be working with if I accepted his offer.

"You'd be working with me," Tony said, looking a touch nervous, knowing this isn't a huge point in his favor. "I've been working on this when I have the time, got a setup on the floor under the robotics lab. It would be primarily your lab. Once you get going we can get some grad students in to help, get some interns or lab assistants. I have also been learning how to deal with my anxiety issues in a more effective way." He slid an envelope across the table to him. It was a letter from Colonel Rhodes, which stated that Tony'd been working on his anxiety issues and he hadn't had an episode like the one that blew up my first tenure at Stark Tech for more than four years. The second sheet was the authority to lock Tony out of the lab if he relapsed until such a time as a solution could be mediated which could include removal of Tony from the energy program if necessary. It was signed by Tony, witnessed, and notarized. I blinked.

Bruce quoted a salary and the benefits that Wayne Enterprises offered. I gulped. Tony countered with a salary of his own, listed the major benefits, and said that the company would pay membership fees in relevant scientific organizations and societies. Bruce indicated that he'd match that. Then it was time to decide which offer to accept. I could have asked for time to consider, but it wasn't necessary. I knew which one I'd accept.