Road trip
We took a train down to California; the first couple of days, I didn't want to drive with only one hand but I didn't want to stay around Seattle. And the ride down the coast was lovely. Sigurd particularly enjoyed it. I mostly just stared out the window. Once I got used to the sway of the train, it was relaxing. When we got down to California, I rented a car and we went to the redwood forests and Yosemite. I was feeling a lot better when we got to Yosemite and we did some hiking on the easier trails where my risk of slipping was less. My shoulder was much improved but the arm still had quite a way to go. Then we hit the road, going to major sites as well as spending some time in smaller places. We went to the Grand Canyon and drove across Texas to New Orleans, where we ate a lot of beignets and I had too many hurricanes one night. Then we went camping in the Smokies for a few weeks, which Sigurd loved. Then we passed through DC, where I took Sigurd on a walking tour of the monuments. He wasn't all that impressed.
When we got to New York, the first couple of hotels I tried wouldn't let me register because Sigurd was so big, they feared he was vicious.
In a temper, I spent about five minutes rooting around in my wallet until I found what I was looking for, and used my pass card to park in the underground garage in Stark Tower. The security guard made us sign in. "I don't know you," he said, looking at my signature.
"That was kind of the point," I said, and swiped the card on the gate to let me through to the elevators. Sigurd woofed at him as we walked to the elevator that went just to the Avenger level. Then I changed my mind and went to Peter's office first, leaving him a note that I was going to be in town for a bit. Then I went upstairs. I showered and changed, and the woman who worked as the concierge said that we were the only ones staying on the private floors. I got a recommendation for a dog groomer and made a couple of requests, then we went out. First to the groomer, where Sigurd reveled in the attention, then we went to Con's office where I had an appointment. I was ready to talk about what had happened, finally. After that, I went back to the Tower, got the cast off my arm finally, and changed for dinner. The concierge had gotten me a reservation at a very good restaurant, discreet, not flashy. Sigurd listened as the concierge introduced another employee who would be responsible for his meals while we were staying. His tail wagged happily as they walked away. I smiled and went to the restaurant.
I'd ordered an appetizer by the time Tony showed up.
"You're a little later than I expected," I said mildly.
"Oh, you know, I had to rearrange my schedule a bit. Put me behind. Coming out to New York suddenly wasn't really in the plans."
I snorted. "I'm sure you've been tracking me." I'd known that he'd have been notified the instant I swiped my passcard at the Tower. He didn't bother to confirm, just poached one of the appetizers when it showed up. The waiter immediately offered to bring another plate, but I shook my head. "He'll just eat off my plate," I said in resignation, and by the time the waiter came back, the appetizers were all gone. We ordered quickly, the waiter a little dazzled by Tony, who as usual accepted it as his due. I smiled a little. I'd missed his larger than life little self.
"I can't believe you went camping," he said, sniffing the wine.
"Ever been?" I asked, and he made a face. I laughed, for the first time in a long time. "Then don't knock it till you try it." There was more chat as Tony moaned about running a billion dollar empire while I played around in the dirt.
"So no news about Bruce?" I asked as I ate the last of my dessert.
"Not concrete, but Thor is following up on something Heimdall apparently saw," Tony said. I saw him look around for the waiter, but I was one up on him. I'd given him my card when I was seated. When the waiter came over, he presented me with the check, which I took care of before Tony could do more than draw breath to squawk. I beamed at him.
Back at the Tower, Sigurd was sprawled out on one of the sofas. He roused long enough to woof a greeting, then sacked out again. Tony offered me a drink and handed me some whiskey. Nice.
"So when are you coming back?" he asked directly. "We need you."
"Not for awhile yet," I said. "Stop pouting. It's a leave of absence, not a resignation."
"Yes, and you've been touristing around for a good long time, seeing the sights."
"I never took Sigurd anywhere nice," I shrugged. "I felt he deserved to go someplace fun."
"Aren't you bored? You haven't done anything heroic for a couple of months now."
"Not true," I defended myself. "I made a teenage boy pick up his trash in Yosemite. And Sigurd sat on a purse snatcher in New Orleans until the police arrived." Tony snorted.
"Have to say I'm not really digging the hair," he said, changing the subject abruptly. I shrugged. "It's so bland now. You look like anybody."
I stared at him in mild exasperation. "That was kind of the point. Nobody's given me a second look unless they're goggling at Sigurd." He made a sound of discontent in his throat.
"Your nose looks good." I started to laugh. "What? So when are you coming back?"
"Not for awhile yet," I said in a tone that invited no dissent. "I need to stay for a little bit longer here. Then we're going to go look at the changing leaves. Then we'll stop off at Chicago and Yellowstone."
"What is this obsession with camping?" he asked in disbelief.
"I'm not a big fan of the log cabin aesthetic," I said logically.
"So you're seeing your shrink friend," he said, and I looked at him politely. "Good. She can get your head on straight. Have you even been keeping up with the news?"
"Not really, but I heard you guys prevented the transfer of nuclear material to a terrorist group in the Middle East. Excellent work," I said, holding out my fist. Tony bumped it with his. "Fist bump for liberty."
"Yeah, that went all right," Tony said, nudging me. "So you got your cast off, your shoulder's healed, so's your nose. You're not a hundred percent yet, but you can start getting back into shape."
"Have you hacked my medical records too, Tony?" I asked archly.
"No, they're protected by HIPPA," he defended himself, and I just shook my head.
He kept pushing for me to cut my leave short, and I kept refusing. Finally, he sighed. "You'll be back when you're back," he said with resignation, and I nodded. "But your passive-aggressive thing kind of sucks."
"Would you rather I go ballistic and cause some damage instead?" I asked levelly. "Because I don't handle emotions very well." And that was one of the reasons I was here, to see Con. There just have to be better ways of dealing with conflict than leaving, even if it was only temporary. Although it had also been nice to catch up with my college friends along the way in Dallas, Nashville, and DC.
We sat in silence for a bit, then I leaned against him and he started telling me stories about what I'd been missing. He ruffled my hair.
"I still don't like it. I'm used to you looking like a white flag." I jabbed his ribs and when he protested, tickled him with a fair lack of mercy. That ended when he squirmed off the couch; he grabbed me so I fell on the floor too.
"Oh, hey, Emma, Mr Stark," a new voice said, a little nervously, and I looked over to see Peter standing awkwardly by the door. I left Tony to get the last few giggles out, and walked over to give him a hug. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything," he said, then did a double take. "What did you do to your hair?'
"See?" Tony inquired, picking himself up and coming over.
I led Peter over to the couches. From the way he was looking around, I thought he probably hadn't been up here before. "You're one of us, Pete, you can come here any time you want or need to."
"It's weird when nobody's around," he said.
"Just remember it's an option," I encouraged.
"So where have you been? Nobody's had anything to say," he said.
I snorted and pointed to Tony. "You were asking the wrong people. Tony hacked my bank account," I said. I was going to have to have a word with my bank. "He knew where I was." Tony shrugged, unrepentant. The conversation moved on, he was going to ask a girl named Mary Jane to Homecoming, but he was a little concerned about the slow dances. So I taught him to two-step and how to waltz; he wasn't going to need it at a high school dance, but the box step is quite useful. We talked until he had to go; he didn't want May to worry about him. I congratulated him again on his prize-winning science experiment and a photo competition he'd won, and gave him another hug before he left. Tony told him to ask if he wanted to know something.
"He means it," I reassured him. "It isn't going to be an imposition." I didn't even have to nudge Tony to get him to agree.
"Where did you learn how to dance?" Tony asked as we settled back on the sofa.
"Grandpa. He and Grandma loved to go out dancing. I learned how to waltz and foxtrot by standing on his shoes when I was a little girl. When I got older, he taught me jitterbug and swing, and I picked up some Latin dances in a social dance class in college." He got up and found some music in 3/4 time, and offered his hand to me. We waltzed all over the top floor of Stark Tower.
I felt really good the next morning, feeling maybe that I was going to be ok after all. Tony went back that morning, and I finished what I'd needed to achieve in New York. Sigurd and I went to look at beautiful changing leaves, then swung over on the road to Chicago.
"Do you really want to go to the city?" I asked Sigurd, and he made a kind of 'eh' noise. So we went straight to Yellowstone, where we toured the remarkable scenery and Sigurd saw his first bison. We were watching Old Faithful erupt when somebody stepped up right beside me. I smiled a little when I saw Phil.
"You're quite the man of mystery," I noted with a smile.
"It's easier to keep a certain distance," he admitted, watching the geyser.
"I imagine that even a temporary death would be disconcerting."
"It wasn't the dying so much as the revivification," he said, and the humor left his face. I squeezed his shoulder. "But it's been nice running in to you." He flashed a quick smile at me and handed me another flash drive discreetly.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
"I hacked Stark," he said unrepentantly, and I started to laugh. "Take care of yourself. Individually, the Avengers are easy enough to deal with, although Tony can be a handful. Together, though, there's quite a gestalt that can turn into a real...challenge."
"You too, Phil. I enjoy our little meet and greets. Maybe next time we should get coffee too." He smiled.
"I like cream and sugar." I smiled back, genuinely entertained. For such a cypher, he seemed like a really nice person. He faded away, and later I checked the drive. It was information on Viper's possible boltholes, what she was doing for money these days, and her known associates. There was also a bit about how Sharon Carter had been censured.
"In part for leaking classified information to unauthorized extra-governmental entities," I read aloud to Sigurd. "Huh. They must have found out about Comic Con."
Then we got on the road to Seattle.
We got home and we had a huge surprise in the form of Torburn, who was waiting for us. He wagged his whole body and barked excitedly, frisking and cavorting. Sigurd joined his son running around, as I brought in our stuff after paying the taxi. Torburn calmed down enough that I could ask about his mom; he seemed happy, so I deduced she was ok. This alone was worth coming back. After everybody calmed down, I left the dogs at home and went out to run some errands, ending at the grocery store. Back home, I went online to see what I'd missed on my road trip. There was the usual politics, blah, blah; I'd kept up with sports because people loved to talk about their favorite teams. Then there was an interesting photograph when I Googled Avengers; somebody had caught Steve with a familiar blonde woman. His hand was on her ass and she was playing with his belt buckle. He obviously felt, after Comic Con, that a ball cap was an excellent disguise. I shook my head in disbelief. The photo ran side by side with one from Comic Con and our differences in body type and height pointed out. The article wondered where Paladin was. I bared my teeth. I bet this is what drew the CIA's attention to Sharon and why she'd been censured.
We went in to work the next morning, and I felt centered and focused, although I wondered how long that would last once I started running into people again. I ran through some strategies for dealing with emotional distress that I'd learned from Con, just to be prepared. After breakfast (the caf workers all welcomed me back, which was nice; I got caught up on their news too), I went down to see Loki, who was pleased to see me again, and I promised to come down for a movie night soon. I thought I'd bring the original Star Wars; I had the original theatrical version, un-screwed with by George Lucas. Then it was out to my workshop, where I sorted a ton of email and assembled a priority list of requests.
"This looks interesting," I muttered, and sent the specs to my tablet as the door opened smoothly. I looked up to see Steve in the doorway.