Duty (An Armorer/Paladin Story)

I've been out of school for well over a decade, but I always think of the time between Christmas and New Year's as winter break. It was fun to have Peter visit. He remarked that he had applied for a very generous scholarship. I just smiled and wished him good luck; I knew Foggy would be sending him a letter announcing that he had won it in late January. I knew May would be pleased and I was relieved that he'd be able to go to school without worrying about the money. The New Year's Eve party was a laid-back affair the way Avengers parties tended to be. The men wore suits, Thor and Sif wore Asgardian dress up, and Natasha, Maria, and I wore cocktail dresses. Mine was sleeveless with a fitted bodice and a somewhat full skirt in sapphire silk taffeta; I've always liked the sound of taffeta when it moves. We had champagne at midnight; I distracted Steve from noticing that Peter had a glass too.

Peter went home the next day and the house was definitely quieter. I settled back into work and January slid into February uneventfully. On Valentine's day I was accosted by Tony, Bruce, Scott, and Steve. I looked up from lunch warily; the scientists hadn't been by to test anything lately and damage the calm of anybody.

"We had an appearance at the center," Bruce said, poking at my salad to see if he might want one. I smacked his hand away.

"Kids cried because the Armorer wasn't there," Tony said pointedly. "Kids cried. That's on you, Harrington." I just rolled my eyes.

"Page twenty-one addendum of the contract, Tony," I said. "You agreed not to hassle me."

"That's before the children got so upset," he fired back.

"It was only one kid," Scott said. "It might have been coincidental." The other three glared at him and he put up his hands. I grinned at him.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Steve said, erupting. My eyes opened wide. I've never seen him in a temper. Everybody else, including the table around us, shut up and looked at him in fascination. "It hasn't been the same since you quit." Tony, looking around, made little hands-down, shushing gestures. Steve looked between the two of us. "Are you sure you're not related? You have the same perverse sense of pride." He got up and stomped off.

"You do seem determined to outstubborn each other," Bruce observed mildly.

I grabbed my brownie and went back to my workshop.

I wouldn't say that Steve started to avoid me, but I didn't run into him much. On the obstacle course, he ran ahead of me and pushed me to work harder. I was more grateful than ever that I could go home to my house after work.

In early March, Tony came by my shop and grabbed me, marching me down to the visitors center. Under the heavy rain of the past few days, the roof had started leaking around the skylights, and he wanted me to look at it and see if I saw a solution. It was the second time in a month that it had failed. When we got there, everybody who was on campus was also there: Steve, Bucky, Sam, Jim, Bruce, and Nick. There was also a janitor mopping up the water in the big hall. I trod warily; I had kept my resolution to dress more professionally at work and was wearing dress shoes with my sweater and slacks. Above us, we could hear the tread of workers on the roof.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and I shook my head.

"I don't know, Tony, I'd need to get up there to inspec--"

I looked up, stupidly, when I heard the sound of breaking glass. Tony shoved me toward an alcove in the wall when the gunfire started; he ran over to the outdated suit he had on display and started to suit up. Sam and Jim were doing the same, and Bucky, Steve and Nick had waded into the fray. Bruce was trying to avoid Hulking out as this would create more problems than it would solve. Steve couldn't get to his old vibranium shield; it was behind bulletproof glass since people kept trying to steal it, so he was bareknuckle brawling. It was utter chaos. I saw the custodian put his mop in the bucket and take out a handgun with a long magazine and point it at Bruce.

In super slo mo, I ran for the man, grabbed the mop, and smacked the soggy strands into the man's face. It was a nasty experience and he dropped the gun. I kicked it toward the wall, put the mop on the floor, and broke off the head. I had a pike now, and I stabbed the guy in the gut, following it with blow from the butt end to the temple, dropping him. I ran for my next target, hearing bones break in his gun hand when I struck it, and I dropped him with another strike to the temple. Trying to spot another target, I saw a man move his targeting laser from me and point it at Steve's unprotected back. I ran full tilt to cover Steve and I felt bullets stitch up my back and felt a fine mist on my face.

My foot slipped on the wet floor and I went down hard. My back was on fire. I saw Steve pitch forward. There was a sudden, awful silence. My ears were still ringing from the gunfire. I pushed myself up on my knees and looked around; the bad guys were down and abruptly my sweater was being pulled over my head. I got my head loose and craned it around to see Steve pressing his hand over the places where the bullets had struck.

"You're ok," he said.

"You're not," I said. His shoulder was pouring blood. I slid my sweater off my arms and pressed it firmly to the wound.

"I know you haven't dated much, old man, but you're supposed to ask her out before taking off her clothes," Tony said, landing by us, but his snark was relieved. "Nice," he said to me. "La Perla?" I just looked at him blankly. "Right. Nobody gets my humor." He picked up Steve carefully and blasted through one of the holes in the roof.

Jim landed by me. "Are you ok?" he asked, helping me up. His and Tony's suits didn't really allow for squatting.

"I've been shot," I said to him in exasperation. "It hurts, but I'm not bleeding."

"I'm a colonel in the US Air Force," he said, "I know it hurts to be shot." He pressed gently over the spots; two of them hurt worse than the others. "You ought to be checked out," and before I knew it, we were rocketing skyward. It was a short flight, but I was freezing by the time we landed. He dropped me off and zoomed back to the scene. I could hear sirens getting louder as I walked in. I was immediately given a blanket and placed into an exam room in the ER. The nurse came in as the adrenaline faded and took my vitals. My blood pressure and heart rate were still up; she wrapped another blanket around me to help me warm up, and a new doctor jogged in.

He introduced himself as Dr Canby and asked what had happened. I gave the basics, and he nodded and listened to my heart and lungs. My wrist had started to hurt a little, and he moved it gently. "So you're the one with the puncture-resistant skin," he said cheerfully . "I've heard about you." I winced. " Thor brought some data from healers you've seen there, I understand." He looked up my patient file, scanning quickly. "Looks like they're in agreement with us; no treatment for the impervious mutation you've got. It should be stable unless it's provoked. Which is good for us. I am going to send you to get an x-ray of your back and wrist." The nurse wheeled me off before I could say anything. The x-ray room was cold; I'd just started to warm up and I was shaking so hard it was hard to get a good x-ray. Then I was whisked back to the alcove and tucked in with more blankets. The nurse handed me a warm wet washcloth for my face. I wiped in puzzlement; it came away with red on it. I blanched. It was Steve's blood.

Then I waited, slowly relaxing as I warmed up, and the next time the nurse came for my blood pressure, it was acceptable. I was really tired. Adrenaline like that takes a lot out of you. Dr Canby came back and brought up the x-ray images. "The good news is that your wrist is just sprained," he said encouragingly. "The bad news is that you've got two cracked ribs, but it's not awful news. You can think of your skin and the top layer of muscle underneath as a trampoline; this is like when a trampoline is hit with tremendous force. It didn't rupture, but you know it's been hit. It doesn't look like the the organs were affected much, although your right kidney might be a little bruised. One shot came close but didn't hit it. So we won't be needing to test your special scalpel blades."

"That is really good news," I said in relief. He started to wrap my hand and wrist. "Do you know how Steve Rogers is?"

"They took him into surgery to repair his shoulder," he said. "It'll take some time, but he'll be ok. Once the bone fragments are cleaned up and the tissue sorted, he should be good as new in a few days." He shook his head. "That speedy healing is a real gift." I nodded. "We'll give you the top to some scrubs so you can go home. Go home and take it easy for the rest of the day. And I'm supposed to tell you to keep to visitor's hours." I roll my eyes. "Cap's the only one brought in for medical treatment," he told me. "After the surgery, he'll be out for awhile, so he probably won't even be awake for visiting until tomorrow morning." His tone was sympathetic.

I took his advice. I texted Tony the results from my exam and that I was going home for the day. The dogs met me on the path and stayed with me, even when the police came for my statement. It didn't take long, and afterward, I treated myself to a long hot bath. My ribs felt like they were on fire. Tony returned my text, telling me he'd fire me if I showed up tomorrow and that Steve had come out of surgery just fine. I shook my head and sank deeper into the tub, chasing the last of the cold out of my bones.

I got up late the next morning, stiff and sore, so I took another good long soak, then went downstairs, lit the fire, and settled in with a book and the dogs. I was surprised when, after lunch, the doorbell rang.

I was even more surprised to see Steve in the door, arm in a sling. "Can I come in?" he asked, and I held the door for him. "We need to talk." He was grim. I indicated the library, slipping around him and getting to the desk chair first.

"The armchair is more comfortable," I encouraged him. When he turned to drag it closer to the desk, I quickly raised the seat of the desk chair and settled in. He sat in the armchair with a grunt. My head was slightly higher than his, and I had the desk to give me more authority.

"I'm sick of arguing with you," he said right away, jaw clenched, blue eyes flinty. "So let me tell you how it's going to be. You're coming back to the team, effective immediately. We need you. I need you. You keep Stark under control with an astonishing combination of smart ass remarks, sweetness, compliments, and the occasional insult. Everybody likes and respects you. Your insights and comments are missed. You set an example. I didn't realize quite how much you contributed until you quit. The light has gone out of the team. Your essential kindness--"

"You're doing well," Tony said, strolling in.

"I swear to god, I'm getting the locks changed," I said in exasperation. Tony shrugged, studying the scene before him.

"Nice work," he said to me. "You've got the advantage in height and authority," he said approvingly. "But it's not going to be enough." He brought over a straight chair. "Don't think of it as losing," he encouraged me. "So just tell me the truth. What is holding you back?"

I smoothed my fingers over the desk. "To start with, I love having a home again. I'm just starting to realize how much I missed it. I like being able to leave work at work and come home. And don't say that the residence isn't nice, it's perfectly fine. But this is mine. I like being able to go anywhere by myself, without an escort for my protection. Even if the threat was trumped up," I said, staring at him through narrowed eyes. He just made a 'move along' motion.

"Let's get your old arguments out of the way," he said impatiently. "You're not trained and don't want to be. I get that. But you are trained. You made a weapon out of a mop. And you used it effectively. Nick...said something stupid. But he runs logistics, intelligence, and administration for the team. He is not the boss. He'd definitely not the boss of me."

"Steve is the boss of you," I say, just to needle him. He rolls his eyes.

"Whatever," he says crisply. "He doesn't have the authority to hire or fire Avengers, and he knows this now. Once he gets fixed on a goal, he doesn't care how it's achieved, so it's for the best that he's not. And we want you back. It's not just a matter of tactics and strategy to be valuable in the field. Your vision is demonstrably useful, even life saving. You helped keep everybody's tech functional, made repairs on the fly, improvised. And, most importantly, you proved that you'd sacrifice yourself to save somebody else." The intensity of his look held me pinned in place. "There's nobody I want more in the field with me." He sat back, the moment holding. "And frankly, if you don't join, you're fired."

And there it went. "Son of a bitch!" I said, jumping to my feet. And winced, as my ribs complained.

"You just had to go there," Steve said in resignation. Tony shrugged.

"We have been gentle with her, waiting for her to come to her senses. She's smart, you'd have thought she'd have figured it out, but no." He turned to me again. "Keep your house. I don't care. It's like a hundred yards away from work. The residence is actually farther from your workshop. You're still free to travel and do your thing on your own time. But whatever you do, don't be a coward. Live up to your name." His eyes flicked to my grandpa's medals and back. I jerked.

"You're not a normal woman," Steve spoke into the silence. "You're not even special. You're extraordinary."

"It's time that you came to the party," Tony said with finality. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. He tossed a projector onto the table and activated it. I watched as a clip from the action ran. I saw myself react at the targeting dot shift, lunging forward, shielding Steve. The slug that went into his shoulder had ricocheted off me. I rubbed my temple unhappily. "You and Rogers have been on the outs, but you still saved his life, and furthermore, his shoulder would have been destroyed if the bullet hadn't lost energy hitting you first. That's the kind of person I want to fight with. We have just straight humans on the team--me, Hawkeye, Scott, Jim, Sam--and nobody's saying we don't deserve to be there. Natasha's an assassin, not a soldier, even if she did have treatments during her training. Banner is frankly more of a loose cannon than an asset sometimes. But everyone contributes something different. Your skin is a stunning asset that I haven't fully appreciated. You lead, differently from Rogers. You know what you have to do and you get it done, no matter the personal cost. And you care. We all care," he said, gesturing wildly, "but you do something about it. Getting me that shower in the hospital, bringing Rhodey a distraction. Breaking in and doing all you could. You make it personal. So what? Do you want to fly? I'll make you a suit."

"I don't want a suit," I said firmly. "I've been around you when you take that thing off, and...let's just say you're not fragrant. "

"Fine. A baking soda liner." I shook my head.

"No, I don't need a flying suit," I say grudgingly. Steve leans back in the chair and closes his eyes.

"Great. You need a new name. The Armorer makes you sound like staff. I'll come up with something," Tony said, standing. "Promot--" Steve stands up quickly and walks around the desk, putting his arm around me and resting his chin on my head. I relaxed and put my arms around him carefully. Then Tony wanted in, and there was a three-way hug, kind of odd and awkward, but heartfelt.

"Great," Tony said on a sigh.

They stayed for a few more hours; we settled on the sectional and Tony had to bring in more wood for the fire, seeing as how he was the only able-bodied among us. "I could get used to this," Steve said, smiling, his eyes warm again. The dogs came in and stretched out in front of the flames now that the tension was gone and the shouting was over. We ordered Chinese for dinner, and afterward, they got up to leave.

"Team meeting tomorrow at nine," Steve told me as I helped him put on his jacket. "Don't be late." He grinned suddenly. "And now I'm the boss of you too."

"Yay," I said. It didn't come out as sarcastic as I meant for it, and both men smiled. I closed the door behind them and locked it.

I was so getting a locksmith out here tomorrow.