Episode 7 in a half fanfic title: I became their what?!?
A few days have gone by since the Breakout, and nothing has changed.
Still a SHIELD prisoner, I was sent to the RAFT, a quiet underwater detention center.
Too quiet, but peaceful.
I sat on my cot, staring out at the endless blue depths through reinforced glass. At least this prison had a view. My fingers twitched, phantom pains gripping my chest; it wasn't about me being caged in the detention center.
My comic panel drawings, my art supplies, were gone—drowned in the helicarrier wreckage. All those sketches, all those hours, vanished. I gripped the cot, knuckles white. Drawing was my escape, my way of understanding—or escaping—the world.
Now that was gone, too. The RAFT's silence pressed in, with a heavy, tired sigh, I rubbed my temples and opened my eyes to the sight of fish and sharks swimming freely in the ocean outside my cell.
On another note, the Avengers had formed.
That was something to look up for.
The cell door hissed open, startling me. Maria Hill entered, her stern expression softened by an unreadable emotion. "Lightwood," she said, her voice clipped but not unkind. I raised an eyebrow at this.
"Oh?" I glance over my shoulder, "Am I getting the full interrogation treatment now? Complete with waterboarding and sleep deprivation?" Maria's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something—guilt?—crossing her face before she schooled her features back into neutrality.
She didn't respond to my joke, instead holding out a small bag.
"Change into these. You have a visitor."
I blinked. 'A visitor?' "...What?"
Maria didn't elaborate, just waited as I took the bag and peeked inside. My clothes from the Big House—the dark magenta sweater, the black leather pants, even the boots. Cleaned, pressed, like they'd never been through a warzone.
I looked back at her, confused. "What's this for?"
"Like I said," Maria repeated, "you have a visitor."
I hesitated, then shrugged: "Alright. Turn around."
Maria rolled her eyes but complied as I changed quickly, tossing the jumpsuit onto the cot. Dressed, I followed her from the cell and down the sterile hallway to the elevator, feeling the tension around me trying to suffocate.
I bit my lower lip and couldn't help but break the heavy silence.
"...I'm sorry," I blurted out.
Maria glanced at me, confused. "For what?"
"I didn't want to die in there," I said softly. She stopped, her expression unreadable, then sighed. "You don't have to apologize. You were just trying to survive."
I blinked. "Oh."
Silence hung between us.
Then, "I'm sorry for pointing a gun at you." I stared, confused by Maria Hill's apology: 'Hill, apologizing? To me? Secretly, I counted it as a win—potential blackmail material for later.' I grinned.
"Eh, it's your job. No hard feelings."
With that and all being said and done, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips before she turned back to leading me towards the elevator. Time skip, as the elevator doors open, Maria Hill motions me to follow, to which I obey and do as told.
She led me down another hallway. I remained quiet, appreciating the peacefulness, though I longed to speak about something more substantial than the weather. Suddenly, she stopped, and I bumped into her.
I quickly apologized, but she silenced me with a hand before opening the doors. The moment the doors opened to the visiting area, my heart stopped. Standing there, hands in his pockets, was Stan Lee.
My breath hitched.
I stood there, hesitant to move, so I glanced at Maria Hill, who then noticed my hesitation and sighed, "You are free to see him, y'know. Go ahead." I didn't even have to think twice, or thrice in that matter, as I was running towards the visitor who I knew was my favorite person in the world.
"STAN!"
I crashed into him, my face burying into his shoulder as tears streamed down my face. His familiar embrace enveloped me, and for the first time since the nightmare began, I felt safe. "Easy there, kid," he chuckled, patting my back. "Didn't think you'd miss me that much."
"I thought I'd never see you again," I choked out, gripping his jacket like a lifeline. Stan pulled back slightly, cupping my face with his hands. "Ah, c'mon. You really think the eyepatch guy would keep me away from my favorite troublemaker?"
I sniffled, and looked up at him in surprise at this revelation.
"He brought you here? For real?" I exclaimed.
Stan grinned with a nod, "Sure did!" He continues, "Turns out even the big, scary director got a soft spot." Maria cleared her throat from behind us. "Visiting hours are almost over." I whirled around, eyes pleading. "Please. Just a little longer?"
Maria's eyes flashed with rebellion for a second, but then she seemed to give up. Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed, like she was finally admitting she was beat.
"Five minutes." She walked away, leaving us alone.
The second she was out of earshot, I bombarded Stan with questions. "Are you okay? Did you take your meds? Who's taking care of you now? Is—" Stan laughed, cutting me off. "Slow down, kiddo! I'm fine. Got a new caregiver—nice lady, but she's no you."
Guilt twisted in my gut. "I'm sorry I left. You must be busy."
"Don't be." He waved a hand. "You did what you had to. Though," his expression softened, "I heard about your art supplies."
My face fell. "...Yeah. They're gone. All of it. The sketches, the comics... everything." I looked down, fists clenching: "I swear, once I got out, I was going to show it to you! But now...I wouldn't be able to."
Stan hummed, then reached into his bag that I didn't even know he had until now.
"Figured as much."
He struggled to pull it out, and despite my concern for his back, I refrained from helping, knowing his stubbornness. He finally lifted a brand-new, professional-grade, limited edition art set—even better than the last—and slammed it onto the desk, making the metal table creak.
My jaw dropped.
"Stan—no, you can't—this is too much—"
"Ah, shut it," he said, sliding it into my hands, "You think I'd let my favorite artist go without her tools? Not a chance."
I clutched the large set to my chest, fresh tears welling up again as I let them fall out of pure joy, "...Thank you." Stan ruffled my hair. "That's more like it." Seeing him now, after never having the chance in my world, makes everything feel complete here, even knowing he passed in 2018.
I knew he didn't have much time left in this one, but since I'm here, I promise to visit him, whether for advice, to vent, or even to ask about comic book spots I could use for inspiration in New York.
Sadly, we were interrupted when Maria returned, her expression softer than I'd ever seen it. "Time's up. Fury wants to see you, Lightwood."
I frowned. "Why?"
Maria didn't hesitate: "It's important."
Stan winked. "Sounds serious. Better not keep the man waiting." I hugged him one last time, whispering a promise to visit. He ruffled my hair as Maria led me away, tears drying on my face.
*Scene changed*
Maria led me to an office, not the interrogation room I'd anticipated. When the moment I was motioned to enter, I was met with an unexpected surprise, and that would be Tony Stark sitting across from Nick Fury.
My brain short-circuited.
'What the hell is happening?' That was the first thought that came to mind.
Fury looked up as I entered, his single eye boring into me: "Lightwood. Sit down." I did as told and casually nod at him with full respect, and stayed quiet. Tony smirked. "So. You're the girl who hacked SHIELD."
I tensed, 'How the hell did he find that out?' My world is ending at this point, "...Maybe?" I nervously smiled, making Tony's grin turn cocky, and Fury's eyes widened in disbelief, and he glared at me. "You did what?!"
I knew then my life was about to become very complicated because of the genius, egocentric Stark. But what I didn't expect was Tony Stark to call me out for doing something I needed to do. But, damn it, I wish I had a way to see what he was doing behind the scenes.
"You totally did, kid." He smiled, arms crossed.
Something felt off, so I corrected him with a deadpan expression, "I'm twenty-two, dumbass."
"Still a kid." He proudly teased.
An idea came to mind, and I couldn't help but say it to his face, "Still an old man with ego issues, I see?" I grinned.
Tony Stark landed hard, glaring. "I'm not old!"
I snorted.
"Calling me a kid is ridiculous. You're the one with the failed relationships and commitment issues."
I saw Fury's shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, but Stark, on the other hand, was fuming. "Besides," I continued, enjoying his reaction, as I leaned in with my hand resting under my chin. Just by casually acting like a seductress does in every movie.
And of course, to rile someone up for amusement, "Fury already gave you inaccurate details about me, so why bother coming here? What's your goal, by the way?" Tony Stark blinked, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second.
His fingers twitched against the armrest of his chair, and for the first time since I was saved and met him in the battle, I saw something flicker behind his usual mask of arrogance—something unreadable.
As for his pulse, it was visible just above the collar of his crisp red dress shirt, hammered against his throat like a drum: 'Wait... is he... flustered?' I tilted my head, studying him. 'No, that couldn't be right. Tony Stark didn't get flustered. He caused fluster for the ladies.'
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed.
Tony leaned back in his chair, pretending that my words didn't affect him. He crossed his arms with a lazy smirk and said, "So you're telling me you didn't hack SHIELD's mainframe while the helicarrier was sinking?"
I rolled my eyes and replied, "I plead the Fifth." "Lightwood, I swear to—" Nick Fury interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. But Tony cut him off with a dismissive wave, "Relax, Fury. The woman's got spunk. I like it."
He turned back to me, his grin sharpening than ever: "Which is why I'm here."
I felt something was coming, and that made my stomach drop. 'Oh no. What is he suggesting now?' Fury exhaled sharply. "Stark's made a proposition."
Tony leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "See, the Avengers—that's the new team name, by the way, you're welcome—need someone who can keep an eye on things. Someone who knows how S.H.I.E.L.D. operates but isn't technically one of Fury's lackeys."
"And you're suggesting... me?"
Tony snaps his fingers like I had won the prize: "Bingo."
"I already told him it's a bad idea." Nick Fury scowled, which only prompted him to scoff and laugh before saying, "Because you'd rather keep her locked up in your underwater fish tank? I certainly don't like that."
Tony then simply stated, "That's why her job will be as our Liaison."
What?
Did?
He?
Just?
Say?!?!?
Silence.
Nick Fury and I stared at him.
You know what? I think that actually might work.
Tony noticed Nick Fury's reaction, and rolled his eyes. "Oh, c'mon. You're telling me you don't want someone who can hack SHIELD, survive gamma experiments, and somehow not turn into a rage monster working with the Avengers?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
'Did he just assume that I—?'
A vein began popping through the corner of my forehead at how he assumed that because I have gamma radiation, I would turn into a Hulk, is he for real? Fury, on the other hand, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stark, you're certain that you all are willing to take in a fugitive?"
He narrowed his eye at them before glancing down at me, whereas Iron Man shrugged off with a nod: "Yeah, plus, we can use someone like her." "Uh, that person is sitting across from you and is listening, y'know." I point that out.
My mind began racing at this unexpected, huge opportunity. If I played my cards right, I'd have direct access to the Avengers and SHIELD's inner workings without any trouble. Wow, this is much better than the comics!
Still, I hid my excitement with a forced but skeptical frown.
"So, what? I'd just... report on you guys? Be your little spy?"
Tony wagged a finger. "Ah-ah. Liaison. Big difference."
"Semantics."
"Semantics win wars, kid."
I rolled my eyes again at how he still thinks of me as a kid, but I couldn't be annoyed as a small smirk tugged at my lips. 'Damn him and his personality,' I thought. Fury crossed his arms. "If we do this, Stark, there are conditions."
Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. House arrest, probation, blah blah."
"Five months of monitored confinement at Avengers Mansion," Fury clarified.
Tony scoffed. "Two."
"Four."
I glanced back and forth between Tony and Nick Fury, finding the exchange amusing.
"Three, and I'll throw in a lifetime supply of cheeseburgers," Tony proposed. I snorted and replied sarcastically, "Wow. Negotiating my freedom with fast food. How noble." He shoots me with a wink. "You'd be surprised what I can negotiate with."
My cheeks warmed, and I quickly looked away.
Fury sighed, rubbing his temple: "Fine. Three months. But if she steps one foot out of line—" "Yeah, yeah, you'll throw her back in the fish tank. Got it." He turns to me, extending his hand for me, "So? Whaddya say, kid? Wanna be the Avengers' official pain-in-Fury's-ass correspondent?"
I hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand.
This was it. My chance.
I took a slow breath, then met his eyes.
"On one condition."
Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly prepared. "Name it."
"I'm bringing my own art supplies with me," I declared firmly.
Causing Tony to burst out laughing. He quickly agreed, "Deal."
Fury groaned in response, "I already regret this."
As I took Tony's hand and he pulled me to my feet, I was struck by his height, much taller than I had anticipated. I confidently met his gaze, craning my neck slightly to do so: "I hate that you're tall." I grumbled.
Tony grinned at me and said, "And I love that you're tiny." I teased back, "You have serious flirting issues." He replied, "Is it working?" I looked him up and down before glancing away with a smirk.
"Not even close."
Just like that, a friendship was formed. As Tony led me out of the interrogation room, I couldn't help but feel a thrill racing through my veins. 'This changes everything. Me being a Liaison to the Avengers, and my secret mission becoming fully initiated?'
We grabbed my art supplies and headed for the exit of the RAFT detention center.
'It just got a whole lot easier.'