Chapter Text
“C'mon, angel face. Don’t play hard to get.”
“Yeah, give us a smile, buttercup.”
God, you want to hurl so bad.
All you allow to rise to your throat is a bit of bile. Disgusted, you hide your disgruntled expression behind the empty tray in your hands before flashing your customer-winning smile at the table of rowdy men.
Men? Bah.
Nothing but schoolboys you reckoned, regardless of what their uniforms said. But if you wanted to keep this job—something you sorely needed—you needed to give it to them. It pains you to even show them the courtesy of a smile, but you have to. And your pride takes a hit when they whistle at you and cackle. You’re at least glad that it’s enough for these pricks lounging around and that they let you leave to continue working.
“Just pay and get out.”
Groaning under your breath, it’s quite hard to quell even a modicum of the rage broiling inside you at their brutish attitude. You think you have it down as you begin to leave to tend the other tables at the diner.
You were so damn close.
But one of the bastards just had to push your buttons.
“There you go. Keep it up and we’ll leave a good tip for you, sweetheart.”
And slapped your backside.
That’s it.
The metal platter clangs loud against his face and has him crying like a baby instantly. A very satisfying sound in your opinion. Your boss didn’t share it, regrettably. Which meant being fired after only a short month of work there.
Livid beyond words, it’s meaningless trying to temper yourself now. A poor can nearby is what gets a good rage-infused kick around in their stead. The rage is there for a few solid minutes before something else occupies your mind. Concern takes over at how you’re going to break it to your parents that you’ve yet again lost another job because of your damn temper.
Disappointment will surely be at the forefront. And yet another deep glance at the chasm that separates the golden child that is your older brother, Howard, from you. Not to mention the same old talk that came anytime you lost a job yet insisted on continuing your studies. “Leave the science stuff to Howie, dear,” they’d say. “Forget those silly dreams and find a nice man instead. Marry and settle down. You aren’t getting any younger.”
God, you hate how well you know the talk that you can recite it word for word by now.
Forget them.
Suddenly, leaving Brooklyn behind didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Sadly unrealistic though. Oh well. Good thing their disillusionment isn’t anything new.
You swallow that thought and instead focus on what mattered: finding another job to supplement the lost income for the week. It’s how you pay for your tuition, and seeing how ‘supportive’ your folks were about your choices, your only source of income at the moment. That’s something easier said than done though. Surely every joint in Brooklyn’s given you a chance by now. Really, you might as well try your chances elsewhere. As appealing as it may seem, leaving isn’t much of an option.
Not when what keeps you here, aside from whatever bit of love you may have for your family, is the fact that you’re as much a part of Stark Industries as your brother is.
If only in the shadows.
A ruckus at the end of an alley suddenly stops you in your tracks as you walk down the sidewalk and interrupts your brooding. Some kind of fight from the sound of things. You stop briefly at the end of the alleyway and peek in to see a scrawny kid getting their butt kicked. Your eyes scan the vicinity and when you see no one even remotely thinking of intervening, you groan under your breath.
Guess all the good ones got drafted.
Not you though. Sure you may be just shy of five feet and a few inches, but what you lacked in height and muscle you more than made up with ingenuity.
And luck. Something that helps you out greatly when you spot a rusty old pipe lying around near the fire escape staircase. Slim fingers grasp one end of the pipe and saunter up to the guy beating the living daylights out of the scrawny one.
“Hey!”
Your voice is loud enough to get his attention and the instant he turns to face you, you swing. He’s taken enough by surprise that your hit strikes true to the side of his head and sends him stumbling onto the floor opposite of the blonde. A tad bit rattled, your hand releases the pipe and your adrenaline rushes you towards the boy that’s standing just as baffled at the corner.
“Come on!”
Taking him by the forearm, you drag him behind you intending to leave the bully behind but he’s quicker on his feet than you thought. With his wide stride, it’s easy for him to catch up and corner you both once more.
Damn, should’ve kept the pipe.
The chump wipes off blood from his nose and grins widely down at you both. “What’s this? You need your girlfriend to protect you?”
You scowl back at the shit-eating grin and hiss back. “I will stick that pipe up your—”
“Stay behind me.”
The scrawny blonde’s cry takes you aback. He’s furiously pushing you behind him, even when you could easily pass him in height with a good pair of shoes. The guy’s relentless though. He won’t even allow you to step out from behind him. Frankly, you don’t know if he’s brave or just concussed.
Whichever it is, he’s not long for this world as the bully gets riled up to hit again. You’re not about to stand back but you’re not given much of a choice. Blondy over here shoves you away and takes the hit face-first. That alone has him careening into the corner trash bin and crashing painfully into the concrete.
“Now, let’s see how you pay me back for this bloody nose, sweetheart.”
A chill runs down your spine while you grapple behind you for anything to protect yourself with. There’s not much of anything though and you’re almost certain the guy’s about to beat you up too when a rather gruff voice calls out for his attention.
“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.”
A soldier—he’s not one of the ones from the diner, is he?
No. None of those cretins would even think of helping. They’d join in if anything. So whoever this guy is, he’s clearly not one of those. He drives the bastard away at last with a good kick on the back and you have half a mind to keep the rather unsavory words you wanted to say to yourself.
“Are you alright?” It’s the blonde who asks about your wellbeing. You’re almost too amazed at how stubborn he is that it takes you a moment to nod as you offer him your hand to help him up on his feet. It’s rather easy pulling him up.
“Are you?” That he wipes the bit of blood from that last strike gives you the answer you already surmised. Turning to the soldier that helped you, you nod towards him with pursed lips. “Thank you for helping, by the way.”
“You’re most certainly welcome,” he says with a boyish grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “Can’t have a pretty lady like you getting harmed because of my friend’s recklessness.”
Ugh. Your eyes roll so far back you swear you can see your brain if you tried. Why are the lot of them always so presumptuous.
“Well, try to keep each other company so it doesn’t happen again.”
Rubbing your hands together to rid them of the rust from the pipe, you strut out of the alleyway without another word even while they’re calling out for you to wait.
Sadly, you didn’t have the time even if you wanted to though. Business would be closing early because of the expo starting tonight. If you wanted to get ahead of the curve and search for a new job, there’d be no better time than now.
There’d be time to get to the expo before it atarted. After all, Howard wouldn’t start up the vehicle without you there to help monitor, right?
God, how you hated being proven wrong by the world.
Wanting to visit one shop too many that evening and having to return home to change out of the diner’s uniform into something decent for the exposition had you coming in later than you’d want.
By the time you crossed the gates into the expo, it’s already well underway. Crowds are bustling under the brilliant light of the expo, and it catches your attention that most of them are headed towards one direction in particular. Towards a stage from where rather gaudy lights are flashing and rowdy acoustics are booming from.
Please tell me you didn’t, Howard.
Rushing through the multitude of people present, you push your way through the crowd to get to the front of the stage. Girls gaggle at Howard as he steps up to begin his presentation and all you can think about is what kind of condition the project is in. Plenty of people call out to you for shoving them around—high pitched voices alongside a gruff one that doesn’t much say anything other than ‘watch it’—but you ignore them as you’re more focused on getting a good enough vantage point from where to watch what’s about to unfold.
There on the stage stands the project you and your brother had been working on for the past few months. Howard’s already well underway with the presentation too and dread settles in your chest at the sight. The sole reason you wanted to get there early was to check up on the project before Howard presented it. All because you knew him too well and dreaded to think that he would’ve rushed it for the expo without you there to oversee. Those electromagnetic disks won’t withstand the energy without proper stabilizers and the nickel ones you had made not that long ago could very well do the job.
At least long enough for the presentation.
“Please be stabilized. Please be stabilized.“ Fingers intertwined, you lift them against your lips and pray under your breath as you watch it all unfold.
The car’s faux tires are removed. Howard powers up the console. The car lifts inches off the floor and remains steady as the crowd stares in awe.
It’s keeping well in the air and that alone gives you a false sense of security that readily gets crushed the instant it falls.
Gasps of shock wash over the crowd the moment the car falls onto the stage, unable to hold itself aloft longer than a few seconds. Your heart sinks alongside it as you watch the project you’d worked on for this long fall short. And after having tested it with your stabilizers and knowing they would’ve lasted at least ten seconds, you curse under your breath knowing exactly what your brother hadn’t done now.
“Damn it, Howard.”
Making it through backstage is only slightly harder than you anticipate but once you’re through, your search for Howard isn’t a long one. You find him in the company of one of the women that helped him present the project and at the sight of you, he instantly dismisses her to face you by himself. The first smart choice he’s made all night.
He has the mind to take you further backstage first, knowing exactly just how volatile your arguments can get. Once far enough, he stops you in your tracks and takes the chance to have the first word.
“Listen, I know what you’re going to say, and, in my defense, the stabilizers were—”
“Don’t you dare give me your excuses, Howard!” you hiss at him. “Those stabilizers were ready since last week and I told you that they needed to be installed before the exposition.”
“Ready, yes, but not practical. The tests we ran only had them working half of the time.”
“And having 50% assurance is better than nothing at all without them!” you say, voice rising. “You ran the numbers yourself! You knew that the stabilizers would’ve helped keep it in the air for far longer than having no stabilizers would have. But no! Just because it wasn’t your idea, it’s not worth trying, huh?”
“C’mon, don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” There’s no hiding the sneer that comes to your lips. “Honest?”
“So narrow-minded.” The audacity of that comment takes you so much aback that it leaves him the field wide open to continue. “Yes, the nickel stabilizers would have kept the car airborne longer, but copper stabilizers would’ve run better. We didn’t have enough time to make the copper ones though and we couldn’t install the nickel ones either after giving it some thought. Having those on would’ve made it look like a completed project ready for sell and I can’t have buyers thinking this is complete when it’s not even halfway done.”
Ah.
It shouldn’t surprise you and yet it amazes you how it still can somehow.
“So that’s it.” Incredulous, you scoff unable to stand the audacity and unscrupulous nature of your own brother. “That’s what it’ll always be with you, won’t it? Prospective sales will always be far more important than taking risks for a breakthrough.”
His silence is more than enough of an answer.
It’s difficult to resist the need to clock him in the face, but you manage to hold yourself back somehow. Instead, you step back and turn away, wanting nothing more than to leave him behind and just be alone. Howard doesn’t let you leave that easily though and grabs your forearm, stopping you in your tracks. When you turn towards him and glare daggers at him, though, he can’t do much of anything except release you.
You both knew each other well to know when to leave the other alone. Much too well. So, when he saw that, Howard didn’t have the heart to stop you from storming off anymore.
And you do so with reckless abandon. You don’t have any clear idea of where you’re going. There’s not even somewhere you want to go. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible before your emotions take you and you do something you might regret later. And there are plenty of them to go around.
Ire, bitterness, and frustration fuel you mostly. Dejection is somewhere in there too, but you decide not to dwell on it too much. You really don’t want to cry in front of so many people.
So instead, you amble the expo for hours on end, trying in vain to chase the festering emotions that just seem to have no end. You let the hours drag on for as long as they’ll let you, because, despite not wanting to be there after what happened, you were in no hurry to return home either. You had no desire to get into another age-old argument with your parents after losing your job and jeopardizing your studies once again.
So, you let the hours fly by until finally the night starts to die down along with the crowd. The cold night that now accompanies you leaves you with a sense of numbness that you welcome wholeheartedly. Heaving a drawn-out sigh, you stand idly by watching the lights starting to dwindle as the first night of the expo begins to wrap up.
”God,“ you groan into your hands as you wipe away unshed tears with their heel, "this day can’t get any worse.”
“Well, look what we have here boys. If it isn’t the little angel face from the diner.”
You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?
Deciding that today you are more than done with what life has to throw at you, you turn on your heels and readily ignore whoever said that as you make your way towards the exit. Going home sounded a thousand times better than dealing with whatever this is anyway. Regrettably, that’s not what they have in mind. You don’t get more than a couple of steps away when a calloused hand snatches your wrist and forces you to turn.
The three soldiers from that afternoon in the diner stand before you with rather bemused expressions on their faces. The man with their grubby hands on you sports a rather nasty-looking bruise on his cheekbone and nose. One you reckon came from a rather close encounter with a metal platter courtesy of yours truly.
“Now, don’t you have something to say to me after what happened this afternoon?” You click your tongue at his words while trying to pry his hand away from your wrists. The moment you try though, his hold only gets tighter around it making you wince. “Well? I’m waiting.”
“Let me go,” you hiss back.
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear ya.”
“I said let go of me, you cockeyed bastard!”
It’s then that the man yanks you closer to him before striking you across your mouth with the back of his hand. The hit is so sudden that it has you reeling back and crashing on the floor where you promptly fall onto a puddle of some liquid that dirties your dress and body. That pales in comparison however to the pain that blooms on your reddening cheek, burning to the point that you can’t do much else except space out slack-jawed as tears brim at your eyes from the hit.
“That’ll teach you to talk back.”
The stupor lasts for a moment longer. Just long enough for him to be able to grab your wrist again. When he does and you compose yourself, you don’t hesitate. Splashing a handful of whatever it is you fell on in his face gives you enough leeway to scramble to your feet and run. The bunch of them are shouting at you, their heavy footfalls filling your heaving chest with dread the longer you run. It’s obvious you can’t outrun them, but at least you’ll be able to find someone to help.
Right?
But no. All the running around trying to avoid them only tells you that you shouldn’t have waited so long to leave.
They’re getting closer, their footfalls sounding menacing as they keep approaching, and you’re running out of breath. You can barely keep yourself from collapsing when, at the turn of a corner, you bump into someone who readily catches you. Warm hands grab onto your shoulders to steady you as a gruff voice speaks over the pounding of your heart in your eardrums.
“Whoa there, what’s the hurry—” Silence takes over for a brief second before that voice deepens with something you can only describe as rage. “Are you okay?”
Finally, you lift your gaze to meet steel-blue eyes staring back at you. They’re eyes and a face you recognize, thank god. The soldier from the alleyway. You’re about to ask him for help but the heavy footfalls that find you there have you looking over your shoulder with dread paling your complexion.
“Gotcha now, angel face!”
“Go, hide.”
There’s no time to question what he’s asking of you. With the adrenaline coursing through you, you sprint away towards where he pushes you and scan the place for somewhere to do as he told you. You don’t think you’ll find a place until you see the door near the end of the building.
Thank god for restrooms.
Bursting through the door, you rush to the last stall where you lock the door behind you and seat on the closed toilet with your feet raised to rest on the edges. If anybody came in, they’d leave if they didn’t see you, right?
Please just let me be right this one time.
Your pounding heart thrums in your eardrums as you try to calm your hectic panting, but the few minutes you get aren’t enough and only quicken at the sound of the restroom door being pushed open. Hitching your breath, you cover your mouth and nose with both your hands and hold your breath. Heavy footfalls echo in the tiny three-stall restroom and the moment they stop right outside yours, you swear your heart’s just about ready to give out when you see those military boots.
“Sorry, I know I’m barging in here but that’s you in there, right?”
That voice…
Jumping off the toilet, you wrench the stall door open to find the same soldier from the alleyway standing before you just a tad bit worse for wear. The sight of him, even if a little beat up with a cut above his eyebrow, instantly calms your racing heart but has it going wild at something entirely different.
“You’re hurt.”
A scoff leaves him as that same boyish grin of his takes over his features. “Trust me, it’s nothing compared to how they ended up.” That steel-blue gaze of his suddenly becomes softer as he gazes down at you. “Are you alright?”
The usual wall standing between you and people that had broken down because of fear suddenly comes back up at his question.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just shaken a little is all.”
“They hit you.” It isn’t a question. His bright eyes darken somewhat when he says that, his voice following suit and dropping a bit of an octave and sounding way more menacing.
Your hand reaches up to your cheek to touch it. The pain has dulled already but when you catch a glimpse of your reflection on the restroom mirror, you’re more shocked by how you look than the reddened and somewhat swollen cheek you tenderly hold in your palm.
Your favorite and frankly the nicest dress you own is a mess from when they pushed you to the ground. It’s stained in that nasty water that had puddled around the floor back there leaving ugly marks that you’re certain won’t wash off. Your elbows and arms are a bit scratched up, a small bruise on your wrist starting to show from where the brute yanked you. And your hair is just a mess through and through.
Suddenly conscious of how you look, you open the faucet and run your fingers under the water and through your hair in an attempt to at least look decent after what happened. Something a little difficult to do considering the state of everything else.
“How can you be worried about that?” He’s incredulous but doesn’t hesitate in taking a paper towel and dampening it a bit before offering it to you. “Worry about the split lip you got first.”
Split lip? You take another glance at the mirror. Oh damn. You do have a cut coming near the corner of your mouth on your bottom lip. With a quiet 'thank you’, you take the damp paper towel and go about cleaning the small bit of blood that’s smeared along your mouth.
The soldier takes his time cleaning himself up while you do this. Carefully, he splashes some water on his clean-shaven face, putting attention to the cut on his brow before wiping the excess away with paper towels of his own. Once you’re both cleaned up, he nods towards the door.
“Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” you readily say.
Instantly, he shakes his head with a frown marring his expression. “No way am I letting you walk around alone when those idiots may still be hanging around.”
Your mouth opens ready to protest but the fact that what he insinuates has a very high possibility of happening shuts you up really quick. But since you don’t really want him anywhere near your home, you go for the second-best choice.
“My brother’s here in the grounds still. I’m supposed to meet him back at the main stage to go home.”
“I’ll take you to your brother then.”
No ifs or buts, apparently. Seeing as he’s quite adamant about it you let him take the lead as he walks you out of the woman’s bathroom. If anybody saw you, it would’ve been quite the spectacle but for once you’re thankful that it’s this late into the night and most everybody has already left the expo grounds.
A night breeze passes by and you sense the goosebumps crawl up your arms as it hits you. They’re not there for long though because a heavy jacket suddenly falls over your shoulders. Surprised, you gander over your shoulder and watch him flash you that grin of his back at your questioning look.
“It’s cold out.”
“The walk’s short,” you counter.
His smile broadens as he shrugs back. “Then you’ll be warm on this short walk.”
It’s astounding how his quick retorts have you laughing for once. You hear him chuckle beside you before he offers his arm to escort you. Cheeky guy. But given the circumstances, you accept it and have him lead the way back to the main stage.
“I’m James, by the way. James Buchannan Barnes.” His introduction is quaint and quick. “My friends call me Bucky.”
With how at ease you are around him, it’s no surprise how easily you offer your name in return. You do have the mind to keep your last name to yourself though. No need to make this conversation about your family. Taking a peek at the stripes on the warm jacket you’re wearing now, you turn back to him with a half-smile.
“So, Sargeant Barnes, huh?”
James scoffs, his grin never leaving his lips. “That’s right.”
“Have you gotten your orders already?”
“Leaving for London first thing tomorrow to meet up with the 107th.”
London, huh. Well, you weren’t wrong about something. All the good ones did get drafted. He must’ve been here to enjoy his last day in the states then.
“I’m sorry you got hurt the night before leaving, Sargeant.”
“No need to apologize,” he quickly replies. Suddenly his hand comes up to yours as it rests on his forearm and pats it reassuringly. “Besides, saving a pretty lady in distress makes any injury worth it.”
Your brow lifts at his nonchalant flirting. “Settle down, soldier.”
James laughs at your quick dismissal while shaking his head a couple times. You walk in silence for a moment before he turns down to look at you beside him.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what was all that about? Did you know those guys?”
A groan leaves you at the reminder that has you shaking your head incessantly. “God, no. They’re just mad that I fought back when they came onto me at the diner I work at—or worked at, anyway.”
“What happened?” he asked, his brow furrowing.
“Bunch of nitwits were hollering at me while I was working. When one of them touched me, I let him have a close talk with the metal platter I had in hand.”
“So that’s why one of them already had a bruised face,” James says with a laugh.
“Yeah.” The sound of his laugh makes you chuckle as something flutters in your chest. “Glad I’m not the only one that finds it funny. Too bad my boss didn’t see it that way.”
“He fired you?” You nod as a glum expression comes over you. James purses his lips beside you, and you watch as he processes what you say with a shake of his head. “That’s not right.”
There’s nothing much for you to say except maybe hum in agreement as you shrug nonchalantly. He’s not wrong, but there’s not much to do when things like this are just the norm for women in general.
You’re bitter train of thought suddenly gets cut short though when you hear a rather familiar voice call out your name from afar. James and you both look up to see Howard when he spots you. You smile halfheartedly back as you raise your hand to wave back at him. A chuckle escapes you at how James stiffens under your hand. Must’ve just connected the dots of who you are. Too bad there’s not much time to explain anything by the time Howard makes his way to you two.
“Heavens, I’ve looking for you everywhere. Where did you run off—” The sight of you quickly has his expression changing from concern to confusion to rage in quite literally a split second. “Who hurt you?”
“Calm down,” you tell him and turn to James. “Sargeant Barnes helped me get rid of the trash. He already did what you’re thinking of doing and more.”
That appears to relax him enough to turn to James with a curt nod. “Thank you for helping my sister, Sargeant.”
“No need to thank me, Mr. Stark.” His tone doesn’t much change from before, but that he’s tense still under your hand tells you enough of how taken aback he still is. “I couldn’t very well leave her alone when I saw what was happening.”
“Occurs often enough, regrettably. My sister makes quite a name for herself when she’s angered.”
“You would know,” you mutter back.
“Yes, yes. Now, let’s go. I’ve got someone waiting for me backstage.”
When Howard ushers you forward with a wave of his hand, you comply after a second. Taking your arm away from James and taking off his jacket, his warmth leaves you the instant you’re exposed to the night breeze yet again. Curiously enough, you miss it already. Your hands touch briefly as you pass it back on to him with a smile.
“Thank you again, Sargeant Barnes.”
“It was my pleasure.”
His grin softens as he speaks and turns into a boyish smile that belies the fact of who he is. A young man about to be sent away into war. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as he turns to leave and Howard does the same. Both men leave you stranded in the middle as you stop following your brother for a brief moment before turning back towards James.
“Sargeant!” Hearing you call him, James stops and turns around to look at you. He’s far but you can strangely still sense those steel-blue eyes on you, rapted on what you have to say. “Stay safe wherever it is you go. I’ll be praying for you to return safely to your family and loved ones.”
Again, that smile. That kind and soft smile that makes your heart flutter as he nods and salutes you before turning away and leaving for good. From behind you, Howard urges you to hurry, and you sprint to catch up and fall into stride by his side.
“What was that?” he asks, incredulous.
You shrug. “Just wishing him luck on his way out.”
“Well, try to not make it a habit,” Howard retorts. “Most of them won’t make it back. It’s just a fact. So try not to get too close. You already get yourself in enough trouble as is.”
“I’m not a little girl, Howard.”
“Could’ve fooled me the way you were smiling at the guy.”
“I was grateful, you idiot.” The way you spit that at him shows quite well how irritating he can be and just how easily he can make a good thing distasteful. Wanting to change the subject, you gesture towards the backstage of the exhibition stage where you’re currently headed. “Will it be a quick meeting? I kind of want to go home and bathe after what happened.”
“Don’t complain now. This would’ve ended sooner had you not run off.” God, you really want to hit him right about now. “But it shouldn’t take long. We’re just meeting a coworker real quick.”
The way he says that catches uour attention as you raise a questioning eyebrow at him.
We?
There’s no time for you to ask anything though. You’re backstage before you know it and there you find the one Howard’s supposed to meet. Frankly, you’re surprised to see an old man instead of what would be typical of your brother. A woman or two being the usual. This man, however, looks more the part of a doctor than anything else with how he’s dressed and how he carries himself. The way Howard greets him, with a firm handshake and a quick ‘doctor’, proves your guess correct.
“Dr. Erskine, evening.”
“Yes, good evening, Mr. Stark,” Dr. Erskine mumbles before looking at you. The nonchalant expression he held suddenly turns into one of astonishment before he takes the few steps to stand before you. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, young lady. I am Dr. Abraham Erskine. I’ve heard plenty about you from your brother.”
You frown at the last part, something you thought you’d never hear, but take the hand he offers you and shake it as you introduce yourself. Perplexed, you turn to Howard with a raised eyebrow, and you can’t help the worry that comes to you when you see that cocky grin of his appear.
“If I may ask,” you carefully begin as you turn to the doctor. “Why have you and my brother been discussing me?”
“Well, he’s made mention of your credentials at times, and I find your achievements quite incredible, Miss Stark.”
You chuckle to humor him for his compliments, but you still can’t catch where he’s going with this. “I apologize but I believe my brother might’ve exxagerrated. You see, I’m barely coursinh through my first semester of studies. I have no credentials.”
“Not in this current one you’re in, you don’t.” Howard’s jab has your face turning beet red at what he so openly said and what it more than likely means he told Dr. Erskine.
“Really, Howard?” you hiss at him.
“Please, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Stark.” It’s strange that you find reassurance in the doctor’s kind words. “From what was uncovered of your transcripts, you would have easily graduated top of your class a year early at least. Regardless of what happened, you’ve proven yourself to be quite as gifted as your brother.”
Well, yeah, even you knew that.
Despite how much your parents compared you to Howard, the truth was that you weren’t all that far behind him. If anything, the two of you were toe-to-toe when it came down to it. He just so happened to inch forward quick enough to always leave you behind when it matters most. Despite that, you knew that that inch didn’t make you anything less than. Which is why in your mid-teens you had the stupid idea to fake documents and enter the same university Howard had to prove your point.
Of course, disguised as a boy for easier access. You blew through those entrance exams like nothing, scoring the highest amongst all applicants, and went in with a hunger to learn so voracious that you could’ve easily done what Dr. Erskine hinted at. And you would have had it not been for a mishap that blew your cover and got you expelled from university a few short months from graduation.
Despite having no diploma to show for those years and having to start all over again this late in your mid-twenties, you kept the most important asset you gained from there: knowledge. That’s what kept you by Howard’s side working on projects that he didn’t trust his own employees to work on with. All in the shadows, of course. All in the dark of the night when no one would question why a woman with no credentials would be working on the important technology that Howard Stark himself was designing for the ever-growing Stark Industries.
“T-Thank you, doctor, but I still fail to see why there was a need to discuss me.”
“Dr. Erskine is currently working on a project for the military,” Howard butts in, taking over the conversation. “He’s a chemist that’s working on a formula to help with the war efforts and he’s been searching for a biological engineer of a certain caliber to aid him in his project. When I heard about it, you’re the first person that came to mind. So, I pitched the idea to him.”
“Me?” There’s no hiding the disbelief in your own voice. There’s no way. Your head keeps shaking in denial as you turn to both your brother and the doctor. “Look, doctor, I-I’m extremely flattered that you even took what my brother said to heart but I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be of much help. I-I never got to do proper studies or experiments. I’m as fresh as they come in terms of this.”
“Ah, but from what I have seen you are also an extremely fast learner, not to mention resourceful.” Dr. Erskine steps forward to the desk near the wall and taps at the papers that are scattered there. It takes you a moment to realize that those are yours. They’re your schematics for projects that you were helping Howard in, including the one that stood out above all the rest being the stabilizers for the hovercar. “You were on the right track with nickel, by the way. Had you and Mr. Stark gotten both of your ideas together, a nickel and copper alloy would have most certainly worked to stabilize the disks.”
Howard groans behind you as he stomps up to the schematics and eyes them over while cursing under his breath and saying, “Are you serious?”
While you’re still blinking away the disbelief with Dr. Erskine beside you now, he leaves Howard to his brooding and turns to you instead.
“It is true that experience often makes the person. However, experience is only half of what it takes. The knowledge and conscious to properly judge how and when to use it is also a great part of what makes us greater than ourselves and betters our craft.”
You can’t do much else aside from stare at him with utter disbelief in your eyes. That kind smile of his chips away at it though as his words end up cracking the walls you keep up around you with such encouraging words that you rarely got to hear.
“You are capable of doing great things, Miss Stark. That and more. And for what I wish to accomplish—this far-fetched dream that is so close to becoming a reality—I require a pair of deft hands and a brilliant mind to assist me. Deft hands and a brilliant mind like yours, my dear.”
This must be a dream. It must be. There’s just no way something this unbelievable—such a miracle—could have possibly fallen into your lap like this. It’s just not possible.
A yelp escapes you as you flinch at the sudden pinch that Howard gives your arm and glare up at him as you rub the pain away. He doesn’t look the least bit remorseful though. What’s more, he’s sporting that arrogant smirk that he just loves showing off, but instead of a new piece of technology, Howard makes sure to let you know what he’s truly proud of.
“You’re more than enough, sis. Here’s your chance to prove to the world what I already know. Take it.”
Your chest swells at the kind words you’ve never once heard him say. He was a good older brother when you were younger. Kind and caring and thoughtful. Something that seemingly changed overtime as Stark Industries grew and he left you behind with your parents and in his shadow. The less you saw of him over the years, the more you thought that kind boy who taught you how to read and count when you were one had simply vanished into thin air. But he hadn’t. He’s still there. Deep, deep down beneath the egocentric bastard that flaunted himself before the public is the big brother you love.
He’s still there.
Howie still cares.
Reinvigorated and more determined than ever, you turn to Dr. Erskine with a fervent look in your eye and an enthusiastic grin, ready to face whatever may come your way.
“When do we start?”