Duty (An Armorer/Paladin Story)

Bucky came by that afternoon to discuss training. While I wasn't cleared for training yet, since I was working with a physiotherapist to rehabilitate my arm and shoulder, I could practice throwing knives and we needed to discuss my weapon choice. Ultimately, after discussing the pros and cons, we agreed that I'd just make another poleaxe.

"I didn't realize nobody brought it back," Bucky said, shaking his head. "But we were kind of in disarray after we saw the scene."

"I wish I had it," I said. "It was one of my alloys, and I don't like the idea of somebody finding it and examining it."

Bucky sighed. "I don't think you fully appreciate what you looked like when we got there. There was a bloody mess on the ground, your arm was dangling, your shoulder was out of the socket, you were covered with blood spatter. The urumi sounded vicious. I couldn't see your face, which was really disturbing. I really thought you were going to whip him to death. Then when Sam took off your mask, I wished he hadn't. I'd have brought the pieces back if I'd have thought about it."

That made me pause. If Bucky had that reaction, what had the others thought?

"Natasha was the first one you listened to when she spoke, but she wasn't in position to stop you. Stark was the only one who came into the room behind you. You wouldn't put that sword down, and nobody knew what would happen if they stepped up. And we didn't know if you were hurt anywhere else."

"OK," I said finally. "I really just liked that poleaxe, you know."

"It's best not to get too attached to your weapons," he said. "But just think about it. Now you can tweak the design. You were thinking that the blade was too big." We discussed possible design changes.

Just before he left, he paused. "Natasha said that she told you about her and me," he said, and waited for a reaction.

I nodded. "I think it's good. The two of you probably understand each other pretty well. Shared experiences," I said, kind of awkwardly. He nodded, then looked me in the eye, something he rarely does unless he's trying to say something important.

"I thought at first, maybe you and me... but I saw that Steve was interested in you too and I thought that I'd wait and see. I didn't want to make you choose. But he does love you, so that's off the table. And, as you say, we have a lot in common. I don't feel as ugly when I'm with her because she has a pretty good idea of what was done to me, what I went through. And vice versa."

"It's true I don't know what the cost of your life was after you were captured," I said, touching his metal arm. "How is this doing?"

"Really good. Normally I don't remember it's not like the other one." I smiled. "I'm just saying this so you understand that I'm not going to be asking Natasha about you or gossiping. And I'm just going to say this once to get it out of my system, I'm not going to be interfering with you about Steve. You know how we are, and I think he was wrong, but I'm also going to appeal to your sense of fairness and logic."

"You're going right for my vanity," I muttered, and a smile briefly lit his face.

"No, I'm not appealing to your intellect," he twitted, and this time I smiled. "It's true that Steve was an ass. But I'd like you to consider his situation. Everybody loves Captain America, pretty much. He got kind of caught up in that, started to kind of buy into the whole "the man, the myth, the legend" thing. He kind of lost his way. You're one of the few people in the world who see the guy under the suit. I was brought out of cryostasis periodically for training and missions, so I was able to see how the world changed as time went on. But he didn't have that...advantage. It's been a struggle to adjust to a new public morality, all the new technology, all the changes. He lives in the world, he's adapting, but he kind of idealizes the past. It was never really as clear-cut as he likes to remember, but it was generally less complicated. And doing the right thing, which has been his personal creed for as long as I've known him, was easier to see back then. Life seemed more black and white."

I bit my lip. "I've been seeing him as Cap a lot recently. Because I don't want to rip off Cap's face."

He smiled a bit. "Whatever keeps his face on," he said. "Just...please don't tell him that." After a moment, I nodded.

"You've been like his big brother more than his friend," I observed, which made his observations valued. He nodded. "What did you think when you saw who rescued you, how he'd changed?"

He grinned. " Like my little brother grew up and I missed it. I had to join the Howling Commandos. I didn't want him to get in trouble without me." The grin slid away.

"He adores strong women. His mom, before she got sick, was strong. Peggy was strong. You're strong, regardless of what you think about yourself. But he is also a product of his time, where women's focus was usually on their families. I can see where it looks to you like he was taking you for granted, and I guess that's true, but he didn't mean to. It's just that for most of his life, he's been accustomed to a type of expectation of a woman in a family. He never really thought he'd have one, I don't think. He was really focused on the war, and Peggy, who did like him before he was chosen for that experiment. Whatever Steve thinks, I don't know if it would have worked out between them after the war. She saw herself continuing in her work, and Steve would have wanted her to settle down with him, have a family. By that, I don't mean her quitting her job, just leaving it at the end of the day. Create a refuge for them outside of the world, but Peggy never really separated work from personal time. She was really devoted to her work and she was really good at it, but there was no off switch. I was kept updated on her in case they decided she was a target, but somehow she never quite topped over that far. I always thought she settled, later in her life. Her husband never pressed her, as far as it was known, to quit or scale back when they had kids. She seemed to be a good mother, but her focus was always on her work. Steve would have expected her to put the kids first when she was home."

"Well, I'm pretty much at the point where it would be extremely difficult to get pregnant, and the risk of birth defects is way up, so there wouldn't be any family with me," I said bluntly. "And I would continue my work. There'd have to be a nanny, and the kid would have to have a bodyguard. Any kid I had would be a target if it was known that I had one."

"You gave it some thought."

"While I was still in the jungle, before Steve showed up, I realized that I was running out of time. I had to decide whether I wanted to have kids. I made a list of pros and cons. The cons won. They've only gotten more compelling and extensive," I shrugged. Steve and I had never talked about it. Part of the difficulty back then was finding a suitable sperm donor, I didn't feel myself capable of caring for a baby in the jungle, and I wasn't ready to leave. Later, I thought about it again, during my time in Austria, but the cons were even more enormous by then. And recently they had become unsurmountable.

"Well, Steve came to the same realization. Any kid of Captain America would have a target on his or her back, so he's actively resolved not to have any."

There was a silence. "Ok, thanks," I said, patting his arm, and he nodded and left. I had some things to consider.

I looked at the drawings we'd made of my new weapon, then had to hustle to shut up the workshop. I was due in the clinic.

I stayed overnight and was a little late getting to the Avengers meeting. We were going to get some rain; my arm twinged now when the barometric pressure changed, and I rubbed it uncomfortably.

After the meeting, I walked slowly to my workshop, where I started to work on the alloy for the arc reactor engine, trying out a small amount to make sure I could make it work. It was fiddly; the chromium didn't want to do what I wanted it to do, but it was pretty easy work, all in all. I wasn't supposed to do heavy work for awhile.

I slapped my hand on the bench in irritation, which is when I realized that I wasn't alone. Steve and Tony had come in at some point. "So what's up, Emma?" Tony said, no conversational lead up.

"You'll have to be more specific," I said, irritated.

"What's this, and were you going to tell anybody?" Steve held up the bracelet from the clinic. Shit. I thought I'd put that away. I looked around the end of the bench to the little bag that held my stuff from my brief stay. Steve looked mad. "I am still the team leader," he reminded me.

"I'm still on medical leave for my shoulder and arm," I said coolly. "Everything will be fine by the time the physio clears me to return to active missions." I'd counted on it, timed the surgery for it.

"Yeah, but what happened?" Tony said, crowding me. I glared at him and shoved. The motion caused me to twist, and I grimaced.

"You tell me right now what happened or I'm calling the clinic to come get you," Steve barked and I stared at him with dislike.

"They did this to me," I said pointedly. When his face didn't change, I doled out a little more information. "I had a procedure. I stayed overnight, and I'm cleared to be up and around as long as I take it easy for a couple of weeks."

"Fine, but what was it?" Tony pressed.

"I had a hysterectomy."

The boys stepped back from me like it was contagious. I shook my head. Boys.

"That's not minor!" Steve snapped.

"It is, these days," I shot back.

Tony was tapping on his phone. I bet he was Googling it. "Three to six weeks, Harrington," he said. "That's not a couple of weeks."

"It was done laproscopically, so the recovery time is less. They also have an instrument that stimulates tissue growth, which further cuts down the waiting time."

Tony looked at me suspiciously. "Never heard of that."

"You wouldn't. It doesn't have FDA approval yet." And that caused another firestorm.

Finally, I whacked a piece of metal on the bench to shut them up. "Knock it off," I growled. "You're both acting like I'm an idiot child. May I remind you, I'm an adult woman. My medical treatment is between me and my doctor, and no one else gets a vote. I discussed this extensively with her as other treatments for the fibroids failed. I gave informed consent to the use of the device and was thoroughly briefed." I thought about the piles of studies I'd plowed through and shuddered. "It's not far off from being submitted to the FDA and the science is sound."

"You trust too much in science." This came, surprisingly, from Tony.

"No," I said in exasperation. "It's not like this is a doohicky that they just whomped up. It has a proven track record, and my participation in their current study will be very helpful. The risks are low and side effects minimal, the benefits substantial."

"You're not actually a lab rat, no matter what you call yourself," Steve bit off.

"This is how progress is made!" I said loudly. Then I cooled off. "Your opinions are noted. My treatment will continue as planned." You could practically see the ice forming in the workshop. It wasn't going to be pleasant; I could expect discomfort as the healing accelerated cell activity and ultrasounds would be done each treatment to gauge success, both vaginally and from the outside. The vaginal ultrasounds sucked.

"You should have told me. Us." This came from Tony, but Steve also had a look on his face. It looked like betrayal, which was ridiculous. Neither of them got a say, they didn't own me.

"I'm entitled to my privacy. Would you be telling the group if you had a testicle removed?" Steve scowled. I scowled back.

Tony changed tracks. "Look. We'll shut up about it if you stay in your room in the residence for a few nights. Just in case there's a complication, the clinic is closer." When I hesitated, he pressed, "I'll ask Wanda or Natasha to go to your house for some things. I won't go myself, so you don't have to worry about me going through your underwear." Like this was a huge concession. I rubbed my face. Sometimes my friends were so weird.

"Come on, Emma," Steve said gently, and I looked at him through my fingers before giving my face a final rub and dropped my hands. "You can just say you're working late in here or whatever if anybody says anything."

Tony plucked the technical drawing from my benchtop. "The arc reactor engine. Yeah, you should be working late on this. I want to start trials." He dropped his arm over my shoulders. I closed my eyes and prayed for patience.

But I was tired. The surgery had taken more out of me than I'd thought it would, and I didn't really have the energy to argue. "Fine," I said, after a pause. "Just be sure to bring the dogs' stuff."

"You'll need to take it easy," Steve said.

"I've got a cot in here," I said. "I can take a nap if I need to."

Tony snorted. "That thing is from the middle ages. If you don't go to the residence and rest periodically, I'm bringing a golf cart down and I will fetch you." I opened my mouth to yell, but I saw the concern in his eyes and toned it down.

"I will rest when I need to," I promised, and amazingly, they let it go.

The next morning when I went to my workshop, I had a surprise waiting for me. It had been a rougher night than I wanted to admit to, and ultimately I'd had to sleep sitting up because it was too hard to get up from a prone position. It hadn't been terribly restful. In the corner, down by the concealed cabinet that held my suits, was a new squishy leather recliner and a small table. I sat down cautiously; it was very comfortable but not so soft that it would take a big effort to get out of and the leather was soft and distressed. Even better, the reclining mechanism was activated by leaning back or pressing the feet down, but there was also a lever which would be very helpful while I waited for my abdominals to heal. I tried it out. Geeze, it was nice. I was going to sleep here tonight. I'd have to thank Tony. I had just gotten a small crucible of metal and mineral powders prepared for melting when the door opened and he walked in.

"This is nice," he said, sinking into the chair.

I frowned. "Didn't you do it?"

"Nope," he said, stretching out. "It was Cap. I may never leave. My contribution is there." He gestured vaguely to the bench. I had to open a few drawers and things before I got to the big cupboard at the end that I didn't really use. It was now filled with a small refrigerator, which was stocked with orange juice, some snacks, and milk. The drawer on the bottom had glasses and plates, a blender and a powder for nutritional shakes. "Dr Carol was most helpful in making recommendations for you."

"Thank you," I said. It was kind of hard to get out. I was actually grateful, but it was still kind of irritating that they'd been so high handed in my workshop, my haven.

"Bet that hurt," he said, keeping his eyes shut.

"Little bit," I admitted after a moment, and he chuckled. He actually did take a nap. I shook my head and took the crucible to the forge. It didn't take long to melt, and in a few minutes I poured out a little puddle of metal about an inch in diameter, a few millimeters thick. I pulled up a stool as I monitored the atomic alignment as the metal cooled. I became aware of someone breathing down my neck, so I went back to normal vision and turned around.

Steve loomed. I stepped sideways. "Thank you for the chair," I said. It was easier to get out the second time. Steve looked over at Tony, still sprawled and napping, and sighed.

"Kick him out when you need to take a break. Be sure you keep up hydration and nutrient intake," he instructed. I repressed a sigh. He's trying to be helpful. I held up my fingers in a Girl Scout pledge. He rooted in the drawer and got out the blender and nutritional powder. Tony drifted over as the blender whirred. Steve poured it out. It looked good, an appetizing brown color like chocolate, thick and creamy like a milkshake. They watched me as I took an enthusiastic swig.

I gagged violently at the taste and I may have drooled a bit in disgust. I stared reproachfully at Steve through watering eyes.

"It can't be that bad," he said, and he and Tony tried it. Steve swallowed it masochistically and made a face, but Tony spat it out and scraped frantically at his tongue. Steve picked up the powder container and read the ingredient list.

"Why?" Tony asked after rinsing with water. "Why would they do that to anybody?" My stomach was still churning.

"Well, have a snack instead," Steve said, finding a plate of veggies and cheeses. I crunched down a nice juicy carrot to get the taste out of my mouth. The powder container was pitched into the garbage. Steve washed out the blender. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised to see it dissolve in the shake sludge. My pad chimed and it was time for my treatment with the healing device. Steve and Tony walked me up to the clinic.

I went to lunch after the treatment. Natasha and Wanda were waiting for me. They let me sit down before pouncing. "So--what are you doing at the clinic?" Natasha asked casually, crunching into a celery stick.

Wanda was more direct. "Steve and Tony are unusually attentive to you. Are you pregnant and not know which is the father? I thought you weren't going to get involved with Tony."

As I choked, Natasha gasped and ooohed. "You naughty girl!"

I smiled a bit, but I had to get this straight before it went out of control. "No, it's not that at all." I hesitated. "I had a procedure done lately is all and they're hovering."

Wanda's fork paused on the way to her mouth. "What kind of procedure? We can keep a secret," she assured me, and I sighed. It wasn't much of a secret anymore.

"Hysterectomy."

Natasha's fork clattered on her plate and then she patted my hand. "Did you want kids?" she asked practically.

"No, not really," I said honestly. "But there's something about no longer having the option is all. It would be very hard for a hero to have a kid. They'd always be in danger." Natasha nodded grimly, but Wanda was stricken; it looked like she hadn't thought of that.

There was a bit of a pause, and a few questions, like if they'd left my ovaries and a discussion about the accelerated healing device. They were also a little doubtful about me using the device. "Next time you're hurt, you'll thank me for my contribution to proper evaluation of it," I said, poking my fork at Natasha. "It won't before they're using it routinely." We lingered over lunch, then we strolled to the team meeting.