Resilience | ✔

Chapter Nineteen

"I think Marley's stronger than we give her credit for," Steve said. "And we already give her a lot of credit." He paused. "Tony looked really pissed, though. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him that mad."

"Awesome," Beck said sarcastically. "That's reassuring."

"She can take it," Steve said.

"I know."

A silence fell. The Quinjet engines hummed; wind played against the windows.

"Did you know?" Steve asked. "That she was getting continuous death threats?"

"No." Beck sounded a tad bitter. "I had no idea. I'm trying not to be offended that she didn't tell me."

"Well—I think maybe she thought that if she told you, you'd tell me, and I'd obviously tell Tony," Steve said.

Beck made a disapproving noise. "I wouldn't have told if she asked me not to."

"You wouldn't have even told me?" Steve said skeptically.

"No, I wouldn't have," Beck snapped. "Because believe it or not, not everything I do revolves around you. If Marley trusted me with that information there's no way I'd tell anyone."

"Sheesh, I'm sorry." Silence fell. After maybe ten minutes, Steve said, "I wish the compound wasn't so far from New York. We should ask Tony to consider moving it closer to the city."

Beck hummed a soft agreement.

Marley, hidden in a cupboard in the back of the Quinjet, took a moment to consider how she'd feel if they moved. She wouldn't mind being closer to the city, but she loved that the compound was so close to nature where it was now.

She shifted a little, trying to put her leg in a position where it wouldn't fall asleep. Maybe sneaking on hadn't been the best idea. The anger from earlier was slippery and hard to hold on to, starting to be replaced by guilt. What was Tony going to do when they discovered she was gone? She should have left a note. What if Beck and Steve found her and turned around? God, he was going to be so furious.

They'd better not find me, then, she thought, and decided to just suck it up with regards to her leg falling asleep. They'd reach the city soon, anyway.

Tony would understand. He had to. He'd understand that things changed when it got personal. Someone could try to kill her as many times as they wanted—but if they even so much as looked at someone she cared about, they were dead. He had to understand that.

For the zillionth time since she'd gotten on the Quinjet, she touched her pocket, making sure she still had the packing slip. Without it this mission was useless.

After another half hour of listening to Steve and Beck make idle conversation, she felt the Quinjet settle down on land. The engines shut off, and the ramp slid down. Beck and Steve unstrapped and walked past her cupboard.

"I'll walk you home," Steve said as they passed.

"That's okay," Beck replied.

"No, I need to check on the studio anyway," Steve said.

Marley missed the exact wording of Beck's answer, but her tone was affirmative. The ramp slid back up. Marley waited a minute, then another minute just to be sure, and then another minute, then crawled out of the cupboard.

She stretched and jumped the pins and needles out of her limbs, then left a holographic message floating above the dashboard for Steve.

Steve—I'm tracking down whoever sent the bomb. Please don't tell Tony. This is personal. I'll take care of it. If I don't come back in three hours, use this to follow my tracks. ~Marley