Monster

Three

It was already mid-afternoon by the time I found my way back home. I entered the quiet, empty house and dumped my bag on the floor. Even though the silence was deafening, I marched across the living room with determination. At the same time, I fished my phone out of my back pocket.

My sister Clara moved to New York just after high school. Even though we wanted to be closer, we weren't. Not anymore anyway. Clara and I were marginally different growing up. She'd always been the bright and organized one. She planned her goals and knew how to get them. She'd somehow managed to stay on a relatively straight and narrow path for most of her life. I, on the other hand, had been the wild child. It wasn't that I was terrible, exactly. Just that I never knew what I wanted and frequently did things like sneak out at night and ditch classes.

Clara lived in Manhattan in a small apartment she shared with a financial journalist who seemed even less organized than me. Though I wasn't sure Clara was ever home anymore since her nights were usually spent in Tony Stark's penthouse.

Our parents couldn't have been happier about the arrangement. The Starks were influential figures in our household growing up. When my grandparents moved from Sokovia, Howard Stark had run into them by accident. The encounter left them with new jobs and one hell of a story, which we heard so often I knew it by heart. Despite his bad reputation and dangerous hobbies, Tony Stark might as well have been a prince for all my parents cared.

It happened the day a wormhole opened above New York City and sent an army of aliens raining down on Stark Tower.

I remembered hearing about the attack from the office in DC. I stood in the breakroom, watching everything unfold on TV. I'd had this horrible, sinking feeling in my gut that I was witnessing my sister's death. Somehow that fact had been harder to grasp than my own impending death. I didn't know that while Tony was amidst an intense one-on-one battle with a Chitauri grunt, my sister had gone after it armed with nothing but a staple remover and fierce tenacity. She'd somehow yanked out its breathing apparatus in the scuffle, and it promptly suffocated.

That was the day Tony Stark wormed his way into our lives. Also, the day we all decided to stop underestimating my sister.

After the attack, when flights were no longer grounded, I headed right into the city to ensure Clara was safe and had a place to stay. Her Manhattan apartment had been decimated, but she didn't seem all that broken up about it. Since I found her sitting comfortably in Stark's penthouse with no bra on under a wrinkled shirt and hickeys hidden under her collar.

Since then, Stark was doing everything he could to buy her continued affection. Clara never outright admitted they were dating. At least not in so many words. But they were always together. The media knew they were together. During the holidays, my family would receive ridiculous gifts from Iron Man himself. Quickly followed by an apology from Clara, who found the purchases obnoxious and insulting. Because, despite the gifts, she really did love him.

The phone I slid out of my pocket was a gift from Tony, and I refused to give it back because it was made of a thin piece of clear glass and was so high tech hadn't been released to the public yet. I quickly commanded the phone to call Clara, and before I knew it, someone was answering. Just not my sister.

"Hello, you've reached the desk of Miss Clara Hayes," Tony answered, in what I assumed to be a weak impression of Marilyn Monroe. "I'm afraid Miss Hayes is disinclined at the moment. Would you be so kind as to leave a message?"

"Tony," I warned, kicking off my shoes. "You know it's me, and you know why I'm calling. So either put my sister on my phone or explain why you agreed to help Hill and Romanoff bug my house."

"Well, for one thing," he said, dropping the silly voice. "I bugged your house months ago. And two, they said it was to, you know, keep you alive. Which is something I'm very interested in doing. Because if I fail to do that, I won't have anyone to nag me anymore. And you know how I love it when she nags."

I sighed and dropped onto the couch. My living room was messy and hazy from the thick blinds over the window behind the sofa. Dust had settled on all the surfaces. I couldn't remember the last time I wiped anything down. The day was still young, and I could do it, but I was already starting to feel the beginnings of a headache.

"Just give me the phone," Clara said in the background.

"No, I'm not giving you anything," Tony argued.

Even though it was still so early, I wanted to close my eyes and fall asleep right there on the couch. But I knew sleep wouldn't come, and if it did, I'd probably just be assaulted by nightmares again anyway. Talking to Clara seemed like the right thing to do, so I forced my eyes back open and tried to stay focused as I listened to them shuffle the phone.

"For God's sake, Tony. Did you really bug my house?" I asked.

"Technically, no. But also technically, yes? It's just Jarvis. I can't hear or see you. But I do get an alert for a rise in heart rate and unauthorized heat signatures. Meaning Jarvis tells me when someone's in your house and if you're scared. That sort of thing." I squinted at the beams of dust floating through the living room. I wondered how long it had been since Tony set it up. And more importantly—if Jarvis told him the last time I had someone over.

"Oh—would that mean you could also tell if I was having sex?"

"Well, I would—if you ever had any." The phone shuffled again, and he whispered. "I'm only joking. But I do know about the nightmares. Don't worry. I haven't told her."

"Well, thanks. I think."

"No problem. And I'm pretty sure there's a large rodent living in your attic."

"That's the raccoon. We've made peace. So what do you think of this job, mission thing? What have they told you?"

"They haven't told me anything. So naturally, I know everything. And I think it's a stupid idea and you shouldn't do it. But I also think it's your business, and you can do whatever the hell you want."

"I was sort of looking for your opinion."

"Well, I'm guessing you already accepted the job. So my opinion is useless."

"Tony, you're just a tad creepy, and you should probably stop. I don't need you to monitor my house, and I don't like it when you think you know my decisions."

"Blame your sister. She's the one who made me do it."

"Put her on the phone."

"Yup." The phone shuffled again, and I pressed it to my shoulder so I could pull my socks off and get comfortable.

"Hi, Jo," Clara said in a cheery tone.

"Why did you tell your boyfriend to bug my house?"

"I didn't tell him to bug your house. He just wanted you to be connected to Jarvis somewhere other than your phone, and I knew you wouldn't let him install it if we asked. So I told him to go ahead and do it anyway."

"You know it's a little creepy, right? Like a lot creepy. Like Big Brother, 1984 kind of creepy."

"I know, I'm sorry. But it's just Jarvis. And it's more like a highly advanced security system than a bug. Plus, I'll keep you safe during this mission—or whatever it is. By the way, I do know about the nightmares, Tony. And not because I'm a creep but because I'm a good sister, and I know when you're not okay."

"I'm fine. I'm doing great, considering. I mean—since the whole thing with Hydra. It could be a lot worse. I could be rotting in a jail cell. My therapist said I was making progress. But, of course, that was before. And she always said that."

"Your therapist worked for SHIELD."

"So did I."

"Yeah, but she was actually confirmed Hydra. She was totally cool with them murdering half the world."

"Your boyfriend designed the weapon that would have murdered half the world. You both included. I know you always distrusted SHIELD, and I don't blame you. But some of us were actually in it with the best intentions. And those people saved your asses. You don't have to be grateful, but you could try to be a bit more considerate. I lost my job. More importantly, I believed in something that turned out to be—not what I thought it was."

"I just wish you'd pick less dangerous occupations."

"I wish you'd pick less dangerous boyfriends." It wasn't true. I liked Tony. Even though his actions did sometimes put my sister's life at risk. Clara was silent for a moment.

"Fine. You win. This time," she finally answered.

"Good. So what do you think of this mission? Don't act like you don't already know."

"I think it sounds crazy and cliché like one of those cheesy romantic comedies where you pretend to date and fall in love." Clara had a much brighter outlook than I did.

"I'm not going to fall in love with Captain America."

"Can't," Tony said from the background. "He has a girlfriend. Or someone anyway. I don't know what she is."

"What?" we replied simultaneously.

"Wow, you guys are so far out of the loop."

"Since when does he have a girlfriend? He never said anything about it," Clara argued.

"You don't remember the girl he was banging before he went off to DC? She's one of those 'special' people. Enhanced."

"Banging, really? What is this, a high school locker room? And no, I don't remember hearing about this."

"So far out of the loop. What do we even talk about?"

"Did you know he had a girlfriend? So why do they need you to do this job if he already has a girlfriend?"

"Well, enhanced being the keyword, dear. Also, she lives here in New York."

"Okay, so can you guys stop bickering for like five seconds so I can talk to my sister?" I asked.

"Sorry," they both replied. I had a feeling Tony put me on speakerphone, and his answer proved my theory.

"Okay, so anyway. Do you think this is a bad idea or what?" Clara sighed. It was something she frequently did.

"I don't know, Jo," she decided. "I think it's stupid. And he sounds dangerous. I mean—from the few files Hill sent us. He nearly took Washington off the map."

"He didn't do it singlehandedly. And according to Rogers, he was brainwashed. He had no part in the decision-making process."

"He still seems dangerous. People don't just—bounce back from that kind of thing. But you're just supposed to provide a safe place, right? Just be careful. Keep us informed. I know you can't really talk about it after next week—but you can at least tell me you're okay. And I don't just mean physically."

"I will. And I'll do my best to stay safe. I've lasted this long, right? So what's a robot-armed super soldier against me?"

"Not funny."

"It was a little funny," Tony muttered.

"Not funny." I rubbed the growing ache from my forehead. The combination of nightmares, coffee, and no food weighed down on me.

"Alright. Well, I have to get to work on my house. I'll call you again before we get everything set up."

"Okay. Bye, Jo."

"Bye."

I set the phone down on the coffee table, and the screen went blank. Then I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. I was just supposed to provide a safe place, but somehow I didn't think it would be that easy. Nothing ever was.