silver mckellar and tony stark are (silverandsteel) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-03-15 00:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | catwoman, iron man |
Who: Silver and Wren
What: Hovering?
Where: A couple hotels.
When: Recently.
Warnings/Rating: None.
Wren had spent half a decade carefully constructing a false sense of calm, of detachment. With time, the construct had become reality, and she had settled into a world of peaceful nothing. There had been spikes, of course, but they generally came every day at noon, when she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her own childish mistakes, all while she sat on a bench in a park beneath the Vegas sun. Now, lately, that calm had been shattered, and it seemed like every day was an exercise in re-erecting barriers and protective walls.
This day was no difference.
She knew what Selina had done on the journals, knew what she had asked and who she’d spoken to. She knew it as an observer knew things, from watching and reading, not because she knew what was in the other woman’s mind. She could guess, of course, but none of the guesses would change the fact that Selina had caused trouble (yet again), and that Wren had no immediate idea how to make that trouble go away, not without giving away more information than she wanted to give.
Luckily, Silver’s injuries provided a respite from all that reality, and Wren thought of little else as she returned to the hotel she had just vacated. The lobby was mostly empty that early in the morning, and finding the makeshift triage area was easy enough to do. She didn’t knock or ask permission before entering the room with the fold-away cot and first aid kits. She walked in like she owned the world, and like she had every right to be wherever she pleased. It, too, was an act, but it was one she’d managed to make her own in more ways than the rest.
“Silver,” she said, worry managing to make it through in her calm, cool voice. She was a white day-dress and smart heels, hair pulled back in the kind of artless twist that spoke of professional attention, and a hint of gloss on her lips. “How are you feeling?” she looked around the room, which was ill-equipped at best, and she reached for her cellphone once she decided he needed to be somewhere more appropriate.
Silver was just as concerned about Tony as Pepper, and even more aware that Tony wasn’t in any condition to be a threat to Loki. Silver still had hopes that the people Tony worked with in the future (or the past, or in an alternate world, or whatever) would reenter the door, and Loki would not be his problem alone. Silver thought that a minor god trying to take over Tony’s world would quickly turn apocalyptic, and he was not looking forward to dealing with a fiction gone that horribly wrong. He sympathized with Tony’s intent belief that his fictional world was as important as Silver’s, and his philosopher’s mind agreed that he had no right to say it wasn’t.
Besides, Silver had his own concerns in his world, and he felt that recovery would be easier without the shrapnel to work around. There hadn’t been enough time to see if that was true, and since the damage had already been done, Silver was still walking wounded. He had fully intended on calling a cab as soon as he convinced Felicia to allow Pepper to fill Tony’s shoes for a little while, but he’d actually fallen asleep on the chair and stayed that way for a few hours before the pain in his chest and stiffness in his neck woke him up again. The volunteer doctor must have left for her real job, because the little triage area was very quiet except for Silver’s presence, and the room had gone still and cool as he sat up very slowly into waking.
Her entrance didn’t startle him, and he turned his head to watch her come in the door without forcing his shoulders upright or displaying a false smile as Tony would have done. Silver looked better than Tony had, probably because his coloring hid the pallor and he had a thicker figure that challenged the impression of weakness that the electrodes attached to his bare chest represented. There were several wire leads moving from the center of his chest toward the left ribs, and another visible two attached by straps to the inside of each wrist. The ones on his ankles and wrists weren’t connected to his chest, so the signal must have been sent wirelessly to the phone, which glowed a gentle ocean blue from where it sat atop his folded shirt on the cot at his feet. Silver regarded her seriously for a moment, taking her in. “Better, thank you. I fell asleep.”
Wren had spent enough time in hospitals to know that those wires were serious, even if they weren’t exactly technology that she was familiar with. She let her gaze slide over him, cool, clinical and assessing, as she’d done with so many injuries on another body as a teenager. She must have reached some kind of decision, because she didn’t immediately dial for an ambulance, and the phone was only lifted to her ear to call for a car, one that should wait outside until she was ready for it. She finished crossing the room then, her gray gaze settling on the phone as she passed it, and she took a seat at the end of his cot. Her hands found her lap, folding neatly there, and she tucked her feet beneath the cot itself. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked, and it was a false request, really, because her gaze said she expected him to tell her. She was good at working through worry, through panic, and she wasn’t going to fall apart if she heard the truth, which was clear enough in her demeanor. “We’ll move you when the car comes, if it’s safe,” she added; it was not a request, despite the fact that a soft smile was added to the end of the statement.
He had been sitting up in a half-slouch when she arrived, a position that he had never taken before even in his car over long distances, and though Wren was probably not familiar with the breadth of the round shoulders outside of a suit, she’d know the picture of his silhouette from behind, and it was never a slump. Her extremely clinical gaze, more befitting a budget shopper than the client he knew, amused him, and the little dip at one side of his mouth said it for him. He wasn’t overjoyed about her calling a car, but he saved his breath, instead watching with interest as she sat primly on the cot. She was good at being prim and careful, and it always made him wonder why it was necessary. “It’s safe. I’m not in danger... of cardiac arrest, or anything.” He took pauses for breath as he spoke so he didn’t have to expand his chest to take in air, the shallow intake taking him only about halfway through his usual sentences. When she showed no sign of returning to the door, he turned and sat back in the reclining chair, some of the lines at his temple easing as he took a position in between sitting and lying flat.
Silver would have consulted with Tony about what to tell Wren, but the scientist was barely present, receding into a shapeless rest more similar to sleeping, probably since Silver had been napping not long before. After considering, Silver said, “Tony had to set off a large... magnet to defend himself... in a hostile situation. It caused some complications.” He touched the center of his chest to illustrate, the shadows deepening the lines of definition between skin and muscle. “With his existing condition,” he added. He wanted to make Wren understand that Tony was doing the best that he could, whereas Tony didn’t mind people thinking he was a foolhardy genius because it made him seem tougher. Silver didn’t need people to think he was tough. The opposite, in fact.
She listened to everything he said with features that gave away very little. She’d known too many heroes that insisted they were invincible, that would die before saying they had pushed too far. She had memories that spanned back years of scenes just like this one, where she’d felt helpless to fix or convince, because men like his Tony never listened. She didn’t miss that constant fear, the waiting up at night and wondering if the morning was going to bring injuries or, worse, nothing at all. She followed the movement of his hand with her light gaze, her attention lingering on that bare skin for a moment longer than absolutely necessary, and it wasn’t until he was done, until he’d gone quiet with reasons that she scooted a touch forward, hands still carefully folded and voice not rising above polite speech.
“It’s not safe,” she said, no anger, but an unmistakable certainty in the comment. “Heroes are never safe. It comes with the territory, and if you’re going to keep going through that door, and if he’s going to keep doing what he’s doing over there, then you need a better system for handling it over here.” It was, perhaps, a tellingly calm reaction to something that would cause panic in the general population. “Medical care, a facility, a way to deal with injuries,” she added, and though there was no mention of money, there was certainly the implication that funds would be required. “He has capital and equipment? Some of it needs to start coming back with you. We can bring things back; I’ve done it.” She paused. “Unless he’ll listen to reason and understand that you aren’t a man in a cowl and cape, and that his situation has recently changed.” She knew better, her expression said; masks were all the same.
Though she was careful about what she showed him, Silver knew she was worried, and he was touched. He’d forgotten how nice it was to have a friend concerned about him, and he listened with respect for her concerns and even agreed with her on several points Tony would have ignored outright. Silver put a wide palm flat behind him on the elevated cot and pushed himself forward into near upright again. He was exceedingly careful about it, and he kept his breath short to make sure he didn’t strain himself. Once he was back into sitting, he gestured for her to hand him the phone, and once he had it in his palm, he looked down at it. It was still showing the telltale mountains and valleys of the heart monitor. “JARVIS,” he said, calmly, though interrupted by his own necessity for breath, “give me a 3D rendering... of the finalized Stark Tower plans, please.”
Silver put a hand behind Wren’s elbow nearest to him and drew her a couple inches closer with a very light touch so she could see the hologram. It was in blue laser-like light, fully three dimensional, and rotating very slowly. The architectural sketches showed several floors, with the top of the building’s lights, landing pad, and penthouse only the beginning. “Tony has capital... in abundance. He has medical... on hand. Your suggestion about facilities here is good if we need to run away from something.” The hand became a lean her way as he ran out of breath and seemed to wilt. “I’ll mention it.”
She watched him push himself upright without offering a hand to help, though she shifted slightly closer and the new tension in her arms and shoulders made it fairly evident that she was ready to reach out should it become necessary. She was looking down at the phone at the spikes and valleys that indicated heartbeat and life, and she was surprised to feel his hand behind her elbow. Theirs had always been a working relationship, and she couldn’t imagine a world in which he would have dared to touch her a few weeks earlier, but things had changed. When he drew her nearer, she moved the few inches, and her attention turned to the hologram.
The building, the sketch that rotated and brought something nearly impossible to life, held her entire attention for a moment. She’d never been interested in technology, never been involved, but she’d been surrounded by it in those last years in Seattle, and she knew what really good, advanced technology looked like. Even still, she had never seen anything like this. “That’s all defensive,” she said, looking up at his face. “Landing pad, medical, secure building. There are no offensive items there. What’s the threat?” she asked, because no one spent that kind of money on defense without something very big to defend against. It made a shudder chase along her spine, one that made her roll her shoulders, even if her gaze remained calm and clear. “I don’t think there’s an if, Silver,” she said. She didn’t like how this felt, like it was bigger than even the limited things she knew about in Selina’s Gotham.
When she rolled her shoulders, Silver shifted to take his own weight. He was good at the movement and did it often, it was clear, and as with all other times they had been this physically close, he did not attempt to impose on her space. His brown eyes were contemplative as he watched the drawing spin slowly. He was glad he had not shown her the Mark VII, and not because Tony would object that she had a notorious thief in her head. “Tony’s technology is very valuable. He is good at... defending it, and defending...” Silver trailed off, taking his time to think. He smiled. “...Everyone that needs it. His is a political world. He is involved, and bravely so.” Silver raised a hand and gently pushed his fingers into the light, widening the distance between thumb and forefinger and actually bringing the upper floors of the Tower into clearer view with the manipulation in empty air. “Any retreat would be strategic.” Silver admired Tony’s moral determination, and it was clear in his voice. He could prevent the man from taking an active role in his world, but he respected him too much for that.
She knew that tone in his voice, that respect, that hero worship; she didn’t like it. She put her hand over the hologram when he expanded it, and she set the phone beside his hip on the cot a moment later. “I know it sounds brave and romantic, and I know it sounds like it’s wonderfully unselfish, what he does. But it comes at a cost, Silver. A very high cost,” she explained, her gaze catching his and holding it, entirely serious and candid. She didn’t offer more than that, however, and she sat back a moment later. “For now, you need to get better.” It was a request, an order, all at once. She didn’t like any of this, didn’t like what it meant for the people she knew and, despite her best intentions, was growing to like. It was easier when there was nothing, no doors, no triage units, no heroes bringing the past back into stark relief. “Who is the threat?” she asked after a moment longer, because someone had caused the injuries, and that was their main problem at present - whether or not that person would come back.
The hologram attempted to conform to her hand even as she swept it down, minimizing into a handful of light arranged in deeply detailed minutia. Silver dismissed it with a touch of his finger to the glass surface a moment afterward. He dismissed his smile so that she would not think he was not taking her advice seriously, because she did not know his history, and she had no way of knowing that he was not an easily starstruck boy blinded by the shine of Tony’s technology and ideals. “I understand. It’s my decision, and not a final one, at that.” He meant for the reply to be reassuring. He only shook his head at her question of the threat. “I don’t want to get... into it right now. He doesn’t want... us dead, so that is a good thing.” Silver’s amber gaze watched the concern behind her careful mask, and he considered telling her she looked nice, but she probably would take it as a whim, or perhaps an uncharacteristic Florence Nightingale thing. Silver decided against it. Maybe one day when he had a shirt on and he could say whole sentences together. Instead, he let his hand linger over his chest and he said, “What is the problem that Catwoman is concerned about?”
She shook her head, a fond scoff accompanying the movement. “It’s final,” she said of his decision, but she didn’t sound surprised or disapproving. She knew men like this, like him; she would have been surprised if he’d reacted in any other way. She’d promised herself, years ago, that she wouldn’t get involved in things like this again, that saving people was for others, and that caring about the people who did save people was for others too; she should have known better. If there was a positive, it was that the man he was across the door might know how to take care of himself better than Silver did. It wasn’t like Luke in Seattle, who was a myriad of bruises and scars that she couldn’t even begin to catalogue. “He. It’s a single man then,” she said of whoever didn’t want him (and Tony, she suspected) dead. Her tone said she knew better than to underestimate single men, though, and it left her feeling no better, no more sure. She knew, too, that she was probably giving away too much with her calm, but panicking wasn’t going to fix anything; she’d learned that a long time ago too. She watched his hand, the one that lingered on his chest, and she looked up when he posed his question about Catwoman. “She’s overreacting.” This once, at least, she knew who Selina was angry about; she just wasn’t willing to shake that tree herself, not if she could help it.
It was Silver’s opinion that if you were going to be a hero, encasing yourself in impenetrable armor was a really good start. He thought Batman had something with the camouflage, though. You couldn’t have it all when you came to these heroes, he supposed. If he’d known what she thought about Silver taking care of himself, he would have smiled. In intelligence they teach you to take care of your ass, second only to the information you carry. He didn’t respond to her keen observation about Tony’s enemy, smiling at her astute observation but neither helping nor hindering her line of deduction.
Taking care to look harmless but concerned, Silver frowned slightly and watched Wren’s expression for signs of discomfort or distress. “I don’t think she would. Seen too much.” His lungs kept on asking for air he didn’t want to give, and he dipped a little forward toward his knees to ease the pressure as he took a breath. This was going to be a tedious recovery, but Silver was ten times better than Tony had been twenty-four hours before, so hopefully it wouldn’t be long.
She put a hand on his bare shoulder when he moved, and it was a barely perceptible shake of her head that accompanied the cool pressure of perfectly manicured fingers. “Stay still, and don’t try to talk so very much,” she said, her gaze on the labored effort that breathing had on his chest. “I would push you about that person you aren’t telling me about, but that can wait until you can be secretive without it killing you to do so.” The comment about Selina was met with a sigh. “She’s young, Silver. Younger than I am. I’m not saying she hasn’t seen much, because I think she has, actually, even with my limited knowledge. Plus,” here, a smile, “I think she believes I can’t take care of myself. That I need help, at least that’s what this request of hers implies.” It would be so much easier if she knew why Selina did the things she did, knew what the other woman was feeling, but Wren was pretty sure she had this particular line of reasoning figured out. “I’m not going to let any man take advantage of me, Silver. She doesn’t need to fight my battles for me.” There was something strong in that last sentence, something that was cold enough to tell of things she wasn’t saying, and strong enough to speak of a dangerous amount of caring when it came to this particular subject of conversation. She had a flash to the moment when Alexander had been beneath her crop. Her expression cleared. “He won’t be bothering me.”
Silver was silent for a little while. He didn’t sit all the way upright, finding that if he tipped a little forward it was easier to breathe without pain, and as such the long line of his back betrayed more work than was necessary for a driver over skin the color of young hazelnuts, like his eyes. Ultimately he decided that if he wanted Wren to trust him he was going to have to tell her everything he knew and only hope she was as generous in return. It was a risk, but a certain measure of trust was already there; he gave her the back of his head almost twice a week, didn’t he? If she wanted to shoot him in the back, it would not be difficult.
Abruptly he said, “Tony is dealing with Loki--from Norse mythology. He... changes shape and casts illusions... and he wants to literally take over the world... behind that door.” Then, after another breath, he said, very quietly, “If you need help with this man bothering you, will you tell me?”
She watched the silence. Watching people’s reactions, Wren knew, was as useful as listening, sometimes more so. People lied with their mouths, but their bodies rarely knew to follow suit. If they did, then it was a warning of a different kind, but she wasn’t worried about that with this man. Silver’s moral reaction to her requests for information had settled a fairly strong opinion of the type of man he was in the back of her mind; she saw nothing now that changed that opinion. She did, however, see things she hadn’t seen before, under the loose cut of clothing and the space of a car seat between them. Too many muscles for someone who did nothing but drive, and not necessarily in the right places for social exercises or vain muscle lifting. Still, she kept her silence, though her gray gaze slipped from shoulder to face in a way that said I see and I understand. “Loki,” she said, thinking back to the myths and fairy tales her maman had been so fond of. She knew only that Loki was a trickster god, one of many, but she suspected he didn’t mean that particular man. “You mean a modern version of him,” she said, looking at the phone to indicate her basis for that conclusion. “That’s not the kind of villain I’m accustomed to,” she admitted. Megalomaniacs had never been her purview. “But if he wants to take over the world, I don’t think something as small as a door is going to stop him.” She paused, and she offered her own bit of information. “If you have a key, you can go to any world. Even if it isn’t your own, I think.” The question about the man, Alexander, was met with a quick, small nod.
Silver suspected that was all he was going to get from her about this anonymous man, but he had other sources, and she didn’t seem to be injured or in great distress just yet. He trusted himself to be aware of those things if they reached a level where he would be forced to ignore sense and get involved. Good thing, too, since he couldn’t go far without feeling like Caesar on the Ides of March. “I don’t know how modern he is,” Silver admitted. He turned the calm gaze to her, shadowed by her suggestion of doors upon doors to conquer. “You think that whoever he’s inhabiting would... allow that?” he asked, realizing that Tony’s problem wasn’t just Tony’s problem. He shook his head. The idea was not so far-fetched. Ordinary men who wore ties and sat behind desks in Washington did far worse on a daily basis, Silver just didn’t like to think of it. He lifted a hand and brushed the tips of blunt fingers over the twist of wires that connected the leads on his chest, and then he put his palm flat on the cot and started to get up.
“I don’t think technology like that existed in Norse mythology, Silver,” she replied with a worried smile. She sighed, and she nudged back when he moved, her gaze careful and intent. She knew men, knew pride, and she knew how important it was to hold onto when everything else was falling apart. She’d let him stand on his own, if he could manage it, but she didn’t look away, nor would she let him risk overexerting himself to save that same pride. “I don’t know. I think it matters how strong we are,” she said honestly. “Selina can’t control me here. She doesn’t try, but she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. If whoever this Loki inhabits is weak-” She didn’t finish the sentence, because she didn’t think she needed to. “But he can do harm, regardless.” Catwoman was a perfect example of effecting the world beyond the doors, all without ever crossing through. She stood, and she reached for his shirt, which was folded at the foot of the cot. “Who is Pepper?” she asked curiously, holding the shirt out.
Silver sincerely hoped that whoever had Loki for an Alter was made of strong stuff. “His PA. Probably one of the few that... really cares.” Silver was not most men. He wouldn’t let pride get in the way of sense. Even his morals and his secrecy arose from hard lessons of necessity rather than chemical emotion. (Or he liked to think they did.) He took the shirt, but he ended up sitting again in order to get it on, because lifting an arm all the way up created a radiating pain across his chest and into his shoulder. He ended up stretching it as far as it cold go and ducking his head into it.
After this exhausting difficulty he had to lean back against the cot and catch his breath. He stood upright but he wasn’t able to put his shoulders completely back without the sudden stabbing pains through his chest, so he did what he could and leaned over like a much older man so he could move without agony. “I don’t want to think about what he went through to get this way.”
She let him sit and shift himself into the shirt with trouble, and she calmly waited for him to ask her assistance. A smile started a few seconds in, and it grew warmer as she stood there. She liked stubborn men; she always had, even when they’d only been stubborn boys. By the time he stood, shoulders hunched, she moved forward and offered him her own shoulder for support. “I’m not as fragile as I look,” she said, an attempt to cut off any potential arguments on his side. It was, perhaps, a sign that she hadn’t grown up in the world she lived in now, that she had trouble keeping those that her standing required be treated as inferior in any distant manner. At the Caesar it would have lowered her value immensely, being seen with her driver in close proximity. Hers was a life which thought that men and women with lesser funds shouldn’t touch what richer men had to pay for; it was just how it was, and she generally observed the rules with care. “Not everyone becomes a villain,” she said of having a hard past, a pale brow arching in curious query.
He gave her a look of surprise when she suggested that she was fragile, as if that was the last thing he could possibly imagine her to be, but he didn’t verbally argue. He put a hand on her shoulder, something his height allowed without putting pressure on his shoulder and chest, and leaned as he had leaned on Felicia. He really needed to talk to more people out here with honesty. Two women who undoubtedly had their lives to be getting on with were the only ones around to help, and if he really stepped in it, that wouldn’t be enough.
Silver gave her the depthless owl’s eyes for a second as he leaned against her before taking a step forward. “Tony is trying to atone for being the villain.” They moved out into the lobby, Silver making sure the phone was in his pocket before concentrating on moving without breathing deeply or changing his posture, something easier said than done. His legs worked just fine, but the breathing was a difficulty.
The look of surprise was met with a corresponding one in return. Even in her youth, when she’d spent time scaling walls and throwing blades, everyone around her had thought she needed protecting. Now, out of practice and swathed in pallor and Dior, she assumed he would form the same opinion. Still, old habits died hard, and she helped him out of the triage area and into the lobby with the experience of someone who had borne this kind of weight before. Her mind wandered, her thoughts lighting on all the potential risks associated with this villain Silver described. She sighed after a few seconds, and she looked over at him when he spoke again. “I thought Tony was the superhero,” she said, confusion just barely marring her brow.
Her driver, waiting as instructed, moved forward and opened the door for them once they came into view of the front doors. The car that waited outside was much nicer than the one Silver normally drove, which went unmentioned as Wren nodded her thanks to the man holding the lobby door. “We can make it the rest of the way,” she informed the man a moment later, nodding toward the driver’s side of the car, indicating he should return there without offering further assistance. Her tone was not one that allowed argument and, unlike Silver, the driver complied with her wishes without contradiction.
“Tony is complicated.” Silver wasn’t an idiot, and you didn’t even need to add two and two together to understand that Minette (Wren, he corrected himself) had been through a few war zones herself, or something similar. It wasn’t in Silver’s nature to take on unnecessary guilt, or think to protect her from the situation here in the lobby that she had taken herself into, but he would not have willingly put her under more pressure. At the moment however, she was the only one with a fully functioning heart, so he’d lean on her until he was in shape for her to lean on him. He took in the appearance of his competition, identified him by name and by license plate before he got in the car, and nearly fell into the seat after her.
In the back, working through a bloodless expression under his natural tan, Silver pulled his back up off the seat so he wasn’t flat, gasping like a landed fish. It took him a full two minutes to get his breath back, his palm flat against his chest and the phone in his pocket chiming frantically.
She instructed the driver to return to Caesar’s, all without asking Silver where he’d intended to go. She knew little about his personal life, had no idea where he lived, if he was married, if he had family. She did know that she had access to better medical care than most people in the city, and that she had a staff that could keep an eye on him. Any chance of her letting him go his own way was destroyed by his reaction to settle himself in the back of the car, the bloodlessness making her calm expression take on a hint of determination, one that said he was better off not arguing with her about this. She dialed for a doctor, and then she dialed Alice, and then she reached a hand for his phone, all without thinking about any of the actions. “Selina is complicated too,” she added belatedly, fingers slipping into his pocket and out again, all before he could react. She held the phone out to him a second later, her gaze carefully travelling to his neck, where she watched his pulse and counted the beats.
Silver put out a hand and caught the inside of her shoulder, pressing her back against the seat with the urgency. “Don’t call anyone. No... explanation for the injury. Don’t.” He let her take the phone, which was a fluttering dance of the line bouncing up and down in arrhythmic patterns, as if he’d just been running a marathon. They quickly began to steady as he breathed carefully. “Who was that?” he asked, dipping his hand down toward her phone instead of his.
She cut both calls short when he put a hand out, not conferencing them as she intended, a moment of stark shock showing in her eyes - not fear, precisely, but something. Her reaction was, instinctively, to tense and raise a forearm against his throat, high enough to be uncomfortable, while still giving her a good angle to shove in and down if he tried anything. Her eyes went unfocused with the movement and, a moment later, the tension went out of her by degrees, until she lowered her arm and just looked at him. The phone, forgotten between her fingers, was dark now. “Don’t do that again,” she said with very controlled calm, and then she looked down at the phone as she waited for him to move. “It was my assistant.”
Silver had his breathing under control but only up until she reacted against some perceived threat and pushed back as only someone who wanted to defend herself would. Lifting his chin up over her shoving forearm hurt, and so did trying to catch his weight again. He didn’t move to counter the way a good fighter would, disarmed both by injury and by her expression. His brows creased and his mouth loosened against the side of his mouth. He was hurt that she would think she needed to defend herself from him. He lifted one hand and slid it along the passenger door behind him, slowly raising himself up to the sitting and consequently moving away from her. “Right, my... the garage is behind the warehouse.”
She sensed the movement of his hand, but she didn’t look away to actually watch to see what he was going to do with it. Instead, she waited for a heartbeat longer, and then she scooted aside and smoothed down her white skirt in an action that was as much about regaining control as it was righting the expensive fabric. She didn’t give the driver a new location, either. Instead, she tucked the phone away carefully, and by the time she looked at him again her expression was as carefully guarded as before. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, letting the apology ring true, even if it meant the facade slipping a little. “I spent too much time in my life not fighting unexpected motions. Now, I’m a little overeager sometimes.” It reminded her of her heavy hand with Alexander, and it brought home the reality that she was taking out old hurts in her work, that maybe it was doing more harm than good. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. It was instinctive.” It was, for her, a rather telling confession.
“Not... your fault. I shouldn’t have touched you. Please... take me home.” He didn’t attempt to smile at her, and he was still hurt, but he was serious about not blaming her, and it would take much more to make Silver angry. The frantic sounds from the blue phone had settled into soft, occasional chirps, and were now so quiet that the sounds of the car almost overcame them. Silver didn’t take his hand off his chest, though, rubbing as if trying to improve the circulation of blood through the core of his being. He turned his chin to look out the window, listening to Tony’s faint commentary as the other man woke up into the present and oriented himself through Silver’s eyes.
She didn’t try to explain it away again, though the girl she had been would have felt the need to do so, to apologize, to make everything alright again. But she didn’t. Instead, she tapped on the divider and heeded his request, though she did turn and give the hand that he rubbed against his chest a long look. “You’ll have better care with me,” she said simply, in case he wanted to change his mind. It was a simple truth, with none of the aforementioned begging, and she didn’t fidget as she awaited a response. She nodded toward the phone in his hand. “Who is it?” she asked, mirroring his question about her aborted dialing.
Silver covered the phone on his knee with one hand. “Pepper entering Stark Tower.” He turned his head slowly to look at her profile on the other side of the car, his mind not on the door or on Tony at all. “I don’t think... I’d be anything but... a nuisance. You don’t need to call... anyone.” Silver saw her eyes move to his hand at his chest and he dropped it away deliberately. “I don’t think you have time to play... nursemaid?” His smile was not suggestive, just grateful that she would offer. He thought it more likely she would hire someone to make sure he didn’t die and then avoid his presence, and for that he’d rather be at the garage.
Somehow, it didn’t surprise her that he’d have surveillance that carried through the door, and the mention of Pepper was starting to become reassuring. She was starting to think the man he was on the other side needed someone to keep him in one piece. “The suite is big enough that you wouldn’t get in the way,” she assured him seriously, but a smile touched her lips a second later, a real one that reached her eyes and made them bluer than gray for a moment. “I would make a really, really bad nursemaid. I pace,” she admitted, because she did, “and I hover, and I’m not very good at letting people sleep.” It was all said with the kind of calmness that pretended it wasn’t a long string of confessions, a different kind of apology for her reaction from earlier. “I live with two women who like having interesting men around,” she added, the smile going a touch warmer.
Tony liked the suggestion of two women, but he liked the knowledge that Pepper was safe in Stark Tower better, which was one of the reasons Silver liked him. Wren’s attempts to reassure him that he would be no more trouble than an extra piece of furniture were not nearly as the gesture of peace that was the additional information about her living situation and her habits. This information was more trustworthy than her claims of special care. “You pace?” he asked, unable to keep from smiling and reorienting his chest and head toward her--not enough to hurt, but just enough.
“I do. I fret too,” she admitted, though the calmness with which she said it made it seem nearly impossible. The smile on her lips, however, proclaimed it to be true, small as it was. “You’re sure you want to go to the garage?” she finally asked, giving him the chance to change his mind if he wished it. She almost told him to stop moving so very much, but she kept it to herself. She had a feeling his stubbornness would only make him move more if she pointed it out.
“The hotel is fine,” he said, hesitantly, “...if you’re sure.” Tony was all for it, and he chose that moment to inform Silver there was a very, very small chance of cardiac arrest, which made Silver break off halfway through his last word with a sudden flicker of real anger that, judging from the harsh turn of his chin, was not directed at her. There was a quick back-and-forth, and Tony quickly clarified that such an occurrence would only be likely if Silver had an abnormal heart to begin with. Since Silver was in government work Tony had assumed that wasn’t the case. He was right, but Silver wasn’t happy, and he was glad this hadn’t come up in front of Felicia or Pepper. “...Yes. The hotel. You said other people live there?”
She tapped on the glass and informed the driver, all without looking pleased or smug at all, as if she just accepted the change without any feeling whatsoever. In truth, her eyes warmed just a little; she was worried about him, and she was sure he would be safer at the hotel. In addition to Alice and MK, there were servants and staff, and there was very little chance of anything happening to him without someone noticing. “It’s a six bedroom suite,” she assured him, even as the hotel came into sight. “But, yes. MK lives with me. Maddie Kate Robinson. And my assistant just moved in. Her name’s Alice. It’s big enough that you can have quiet if you want,” she added, though she suspected the chances of that happening were actually fairly slim. She reached for her phone again, slowly this time. “Can I let Alice know to get a room ready? I won’t tell her what the injuries were from,” since she knew that was his main concern now.
Silver tipped his head down and rubbed at his eyebrow, a gesture that Pepper would recognize as Tony’s, not Silver’s. He did it when his chest was bothering him and a headache was coming, the little tip of his chin and his shoulders coming down to reach his ribs. “Yes. That is fine. Tell them it is... a heart condition.” If he did go into cardiac arrest, then someone would be there, and he promised Tony that if that happened it would be a long time before he saw Stark Tower again. That made the scientist angry, and achieved silence. Silver was angry too, so both men sat together in silence before Silver turned his attention again to Wren. “Not for long. Until I recover.”
She watched the unfamiliar mannerism, and the anger that she didn’t understand the root of. She assumed it was malaise, not feeling well, almost dying, and she didn’t push for an answer. Instead, she just texted Alice and let MK know they would have a guest, and she looked up at him as the car stopped in front of Caesar’s. She tapped the window. “A wheelchair,” she requested of the driver, without stopping to see if Silver would argue with her about it. This was her home, and she wasn’t going to let him make the significantly long hike from car to villa-suite on his own steam. A second later, she was out of the car, all to avoid him arguing with her; he wouldn’t do it in public and risk her clients, or at least that’s what she was counting on.
Silver definitely did not want a wheelchair, because wheelchairs attracted attention and he didn’t want to attract attention any more than she did, though for his sake, not for hers. Silver was aware of her clients and the necessity for privacy but this was going a little far. He gave her a sullen look all feline amber, but she was right, he didn’t argue. Silver put a hand flat on the shining surface of the car as he stepped out, and he stood with his weight against it while someone rushed a wheelchair out like he was dying. Silver refused to act like Tony about this, but the idea of someone pushing him along got under his skin like nothing else so far. Silver and Tony got into another silent argument after Silver sat heavily in the chair.
Wren would have pushed the chair herself, but it was the check-in rush, and she couldn’t risk it. The younger version of herself, the one that didn’t care what people thought, would have done it anyway. These days, she needed a few drinks in her to throw caution to the wind like that. She let the concierge - who had been summoned with the chair - push, and she walked a few feet behind, so she could smile at the unhappy set of Silver’s shoulders. She knew he was likely to sullenly go along with the transportation once he was moving, and she kept her distance until they reached the courtyard suites. “Thank you,” she said gracefully, tipping the concierge generously and ignoring any stormy rage on Silver’s features as the door to the sumptuous suite was opened.
As soon as the concierge was gone, Silver lifted one knee up and stepped down on the floor to brace himself before getting upright and just stopping short of kicking the wheelchair back out of his way. “That was manipulative,” he said, pointing a finger made of irritation at Wren’s face. “Don’t do that.” He didn’t want to act too much like a teenage boy, but it was a visible effort, his annoyance at Tony compounding the effect. Silver was not at all impressed by the luxury of the suite. Money did not impress Silver; people impressed Silver, but it wasn’t easy. Silver took himself across the room and sat in whatever was nearest. It made the phone beep at him again. “Mute,” he told it. The phone cut off mid-beep.
“You would have tried to walk,” she said calmly, staying where she was and not raising her voice even a little. “And it would have winded you.” It was a simple truth, compounded by the fact that she understood him well enough to know he would have refused, even if it was for his own good. She smiled just a little then, not to soften the blow, but out of genuine fondness. “Anyway, that makes a don’t do that for each of us today. We’re even.” Both things were done with good intentions, she knew, and she nodded toward the long hall that led to the back of the suite. “You can have any of the rooms on the left,” she added, knowing better than to coddle him or help him get where he needed to go. The distance wasn’t long, and if he had any trouble she was close enough to hear. Let him get worked up when Alice showed up with a doctor, until then, Wren was willing to let him rest.
Silver didn’t bother arguing with her, he just dipped his head once in a nod, glancing that direction. “Thank you.” Silver was at least above making the gratitude grudging, and when he said thank you, he meant it. For some reason Silver’s dusty skin and completely unremarkable clothing didn’t sit well on the fine cream furniture, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. Instead he sank back into the cushions meant more for appearance than comfort and let his eyes half close. He was thinking about the last time he had a physical and he was cutting off Tony’s every comment. “Lying, arrogant bastard.” It was a very quiet comment and obviously not to anyone else in the room, and Silver was never so vehement about anything else. Meditate. He needed to meditate... attempt some yoga poses that wouldn’t send him into cardiac arrest. That’s what he needed. He yanked his eyes all the way open. “Which room?”
“What did he say?” she asked of the comment that wasn’t directed at anyone, because she already knew that Tony (unlike Selina) spoke to him. She followed the question with a nod in the direction she’d indicated earlier, but she stepped forward this time and held out a hand, diamonds glittering loosely on her wrist and perfectly manicured fingers extended, in case he wanted to take it. “The one closest to the front,” she amended. It would be the shortest distance to walk, and it was the furthest room from the one she worked out of; it seemed a wise choice all around.
Silver looked up, surprised that she would offer to touch him when she’d reacted so violently before. He looked into her face, double-checking that she was serious about the delicate wrist extended to him, and when he saw that she was, he put his much thicker, rougher one around her palm and put his heels under him to get upright again. “He said it’s more... dangerous than he thought. Small chance. But he hadn’t... mentioned it before. Pissed me off.” He didn’t want to worry her, but Silver wasn’t stupid and he didn’t want to die when no one was looking. Felicia and Pepper would be exceedingly upset, and so would Silver. “Thank you,” once he was upright, and he started going toward the bedroom. He was tired again, already. Damn you, Tony.
She watched as he verified her intentions, and she gave him a careful look, one that said she was intentionally keeping her voice moderated and calm. “It’s not you that I was frightened of. It was the unexpected movement,” she confessed, waiting until his hand was around her wrist to say the words, lest he pull back before he started. She didn’t want him falling, and his confession about Tony’s statement only made her more concerned that this was worse than she’d originally been led to believe by Tony himself. “He lied to me too then,” she said, moving slowly toward the bedroom with him. “Should I let anyone know you’re here?” She meant the woman - Pepper - but it reminded her (again) that she didn’t know if he had family in Las Vegas, people who would be expecting him home.
There was a pause as Silver decided whether or not to say it. “He didn’t lie. He didn’t know. Just thought of it.” Then, even more grudgingly: “Didn’t expect me to stay... on this side.” With her assistance they got to the room and he sat heavily on the bed. For the first time something had managed to crack Silver’s calm, and for the most part it was annoyance, but nobody liked hearing that there was a chance of cardiac arrest, even a small one. When he let go of her arm and her shoulder he touched the back of her hand and then tried to find a way to sit without falling flat backward. “I will tell her. She will be worried. Don’t mention new development.” He touched his chest. The phone did not beep, apparently obeying his order to mute.
She wasn’t sure about his defense of Tony, but she kept that to herself. She was starting to become angry at the people through the doors, at their lack of care and concern about what happened to the fragile Las Vegas residents they inhabited. This instance with Silver wasn’t the first thing that had worried her, and it wouldn’t be the last, and it made her tired all of a sudden in a way she hadn’t been since Roger had scraped her off a street in Florida. She held on when he touched the back of her hand, letting him use her weight for leverage to sit back without falling, her fingers tight around his grip without any delicacy, fingertips calloused in all the right places for knives and, later, crops. “Don’t worry. Just sit back, and let us worry instead, oui?” The French was a fallback to an older time, a habit of a younger girl, and she didn’t even realize she’d slipped back into it.
“I don’t want you to worry,” Silver informed her, dragging a couple pillows back under his spine so he was reclining and not fully flat, pressing his hand against his chest again and preventing himself from swearing at Tony. He hadn’t been angry before, but he was now, because small chances of death were not the same as recoverable injury, despite Tony’s babbling. The French just made him raise an eyebrow at her, but he smiled all the same. French. Interesting. “I’m going to nap. I can go home... when I get inconvenient.”
She let go of his wrist once he dragged the pillows beneath himself, and she just made a soft sound of agreement about his leaving when he became inconvenient. If she had her druthers, Alice and MK would keep him here long enough to get in multiple doctor visits and a few good days of rest. Tony could just wait, as far as she was concerned. Maybe this would teach him to be more careful the next time. She walked to the door, and she glanced back once, her hand on the knob. “Sweet dreams, Silver,” she said, and she closed the door quietly behind herself.