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There's a light snow falling the day after Christmas, adding to the estimated four inches that fell yesterday. It’s currently thirty degrees at nine in the morning, so it’s anyone’s guess if the snow will last throughout the day or if it’ll start melting once the temperature increases. Peter and Braeden left earlier with plans to go to the pack estate to make sure everything was fine since there are reports of heavier snowfall north of the city. Peter was talking about checking on the pipes.
Lydia had debated between going home and coming to Stiles’ apartment with him and Bucky, finally deciding that they couldn’t possibly do without her help. Stiles isn’t yet sure what kind of help she’ll end up being considering she insisted they call an Uber to take to his place despite the fact that the train would have been faster considering the snow and icy that make non-native New York drivers freak out.
As it stands, they’re crawling along in traffic while Bucky tells them about his time during the war on Boxing Day, which is the fancy name for the day after Christmas that’s used in England. Stiles enjoys hearing the sound of Bucky’s voice, but his mind is on other things, so he isn’t actually listening to much of the story.
The text that he received from Enki is still puzzling him. He hasn’t yet shared it with the others because it’s still early morning, and he wants to understand it more before he admits that he sent the initial text after they agreed on no work on Christmas Eve after everything had happened at the base and Trini’s house.
According to Enki, they only know half the story. Stiles thinks that must be a figure of speech because they’ve located Nergal’s base of operations, and they’ve removed the boss. In addition to that, the arsonists have been killed, they’ve found Abernathy Driskill, and Roger Lamont is in custody. They need to find the hired goons who tried to kill Wendy, but Bruce’s cousin is supposed to be trying to find that information out from Daredevil.
The only clues that Enki could be referring to involve Tommy Mata. According to Driskill, Mata wasn’t part of the money laundering scheme for Nergal. He isn’t sure whether to believe that or not considering the large deposits that Jarvis found being made to Mata’s account. The horse led them to Driskill, after all, so he must be lying about Mata.
It isn’t just Mata, though. He’s been their primary focus because it was his apartment, he was murdered, and the clues all involved him. However, there’s a different connection now that Stiles has to look into. One that involves a different victim who didn’t survive the fire, but one who wasn’t murdered outright—just beat up and burned.
It’s not one of Enki’s clues, but he feels like it’s important nonetheless. Because it seems too odd to just be a coincidence that he’s discovered Carrie Hill starring in one of Kaminsky’s sex movies. He was interrupted by Lydia’s kidnapping, but he’s pretty damn sure that it was her in the last video he was watching. Even without the burns and bruises covering her face, he could recognize her nose, her facial structure, and her eyes. He spent what felt like hours staring at her face while trying to keep her alive, after all.
He’ll need to find a photo of her to compare, just to make sure he isn’t imagining it, but his gut tells him he’s right. If so, that’s a new thread in the picture—one between the woman in Mata’s apartment and Adam Kaminsky aka Dr. Stone. With Driskill Bank involved somehow, he’s trying to tie a thread between Trini and the bank, but he’s finding it difficult.
It’s a time when his knowledge of her as his friend for the past few years is whispering too loudly to ignore. Because, leader of a Hydra cell or not, Trini hated dealing with financial matters. She even made Rajiv handle their accounts and bills. He can’t imagine her dealing with money laundering efforts or even gaining money from members when she was so focused on creating the perfect plague to fulfill her goal. There has to be someone else who was at a high enough level that she trusted to handle the money part.
Maybe that’s what Enki means by him discovering half of the story. Not an equal to the boss, but someone who was involved with the bank and Driskill and maybe even Mata. As he thinks about it, he taps his fingers on his thigh. Someone he doesn’t know, who put pressure on Trini when it came to finding the files that Wash supposedly had, who isn’t above murdering innocents in arson hits designed to obtain information.
“Doc, are you with us?” Bucky asks, reaching over to grip his hand. “You were lost in thought, weren’t you? You know, we don’t have to go back to your apartment right now if you’re not ready to deal with it.”
“I know, but I’m ready to see the damage and start packing,” Stiles says, turning his hand so he’s holding Bucky’s now. “I was just thinking about some things and wasn’t paying attention. Did I miss the story about Boxing Day?”
“It’s fine. It wasn’t that great of a story anyway,” Bucky says, staring at him curiously. “What are ya thinking about? Something you want to share with us or not?”
“Not right now, but later,” Stiles says honestly. He squeezes Bucky’s hand and looks outside. The car
Is turning onto 148th Street now, which means they’ll be at the apartment building soon. He appreciates that Bucky doesn’t push him, just trusts he’ll talk when he’s ready, if at all.
“Okay,” Bucky says simply. “Lydia, you said you had someone remove the burned sofa, didn’t you? That was good forethought, especially considering it’s been several weeks since the apartment has been opened. It shouldn’t smell too bad, at least.”
“Yes, the furtive looking grad student said he’d remove it. Something about owing Stiles a favor? I still gave him fifty dollars for his help,” she says. “I asked him to tidy up your apartment, but the fire investigators blocked the building shortly after, so I don’t know if anything was actually cleared or not.”
“His name is Julian,” Stiles says. “I seem to remember having this conversation with you before, didn’t we? I mean, about his name. Whatever. If he said he’d take care of it, I’m sure he did. If you gave him permission to enter the apartment, he’d have been allowed to leave once finished.”
“Why, exactly, do you owe him?” Lydia asks. “I didn’t think to ask at the time. James might have given me his name previously, but I obviously didn’t care enough to remember it.”
“Some broad in his study group drugged him up without his permission, so Stiles took care of him during his high,” Bucky says. “You also had a cop talk to the girl, didn’t you, Doc?”
“Yeah, Detective Marino took a few of his brothers and warned her about the dangers of drugs. Off record, of course,” Stiles says. “Both using and giving to people without their consent. I didn’t get a chance to check with Julian to see if the warning did any good or not.”
“Of course,” Lydia says, arching a brow. “To be disenchanted with the police, for excellent reasons considering numerous events over the last decade, you don’t seem too concerned about someone using their badge when it’s personal.”
“Marino didn’t use his badge,” Stiles says, giving her a look. “But if you’re insinuating that I’m occasionally a hypocrite, I suppose that I can’t deny it. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my people. Julian isn’t really one of them, but he’s in my building, so that counted this time.”
“I’m not judging,” Lydia tells him. “Merely observing, brother dear. I’m one of your people, so I benefit from your lovely ruthlessness, after all.” She gives him a sly smile. “Besides, I think every member of our pack has that particular trait, especially when it comes to protecting our own.”
“Liam is a tiny ball of anger, but I don’t know if I’d necessarily consider him capable of ruthlessness,” Stiles says, looking out the window as the car slowly makes its way down the street. “Of course, I haven’t seen him in years. You know, I’m the most surprised about him feeling a pack bond with us than any of the others because I’m nothing like Scott is as an alpha.”
“If this fella considers you his alpha now, that must mean that Scott wasn’t giving him what he needs,” Bucky points out. “The fact that you’re not like Scott could be the reason he feels that bond with you, Doc.”
“Maybe,” he says thoughtfully. Bucky makes a good point. He straightens up when the car pulls over to the curb and stops. His apartment building is just ahead, and it doesn’t look that different from this angle. Not that he knows what to expect since the fire was put out before too much damage could be done.
After getting out of the Uber, he pulls his coat tight around him. It’s cold, of course, but it’s the wind that’s making it uncomfortable to be outside. Bucky helps Lydia out of the car, offering her an arm for her balance as she steps over a patch of ice. When she reaches the sidewalk, she transfers her grip to Stiles’ arm.
“You’d think that the weather would deter the crack addicts from hanging around in abandoned lots,” she says, eyeing a group of people down the street who are waving their arms and gesturing wildly. “Apparently not. I’m glad you’re getting out of this neighborhood, babe.”
“Huh, it looks like Stark’s been busy,” Bucky says, whistling low as he motions to the front of the apartment building. “Funny how much nicer it looks with just some new paint and a good wash.”
“Looks like the windows are new, too,” Stiles says, looking at the fancy windows that definitely weren’t there before the fire. These look like they’re energy efficient, which is probably really nice with the cold temperatures right now. “Money can accomplish a lot in just a few weeks. I doubt this building has been painted in decades.”
“Judging by the awful carpet that covered the hallways, I would be surprised if it’s been painted since it was built, likely sometime in the sixties,” Lydia says, wrinkling her nose at the thought of the ugly olive colored carpet. “I’ll be extremely disappointed in Tony if he didn’t replace that gross carpet before bothering with windows.”
“I’m just glad that the apartments don’t have the carpet,” Stiles says, walking up the stairs to reach the doors. Unlike before, there’s a fancy lock and number pad on the doors. “Dude, Tony didn’t tell me there was this level of security already. I don’t have a code to get inside.”
“There’s video security now,” Bucky says, pointing at it. “Can you buzz a neighbor to be let inside? I’m sure one of them will open the door for you faster than Stark would respond to a request for the code.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that,” he says, pushing the buzzer for Frank and Teresa’s apartment. He hears a clicking noise, which he thinks means someone answered. “Frank or Terri? It’s Stiles. I don’t have a code.”
“Look at what the cat dragged in,” Frank says. “I’ll let you in, Stiles, but you need to come by our apartment before you leave because I’ve got your mail here. Benny couldn’t fit it all in the box, so I’m keeping it for you. Lots of junk mail, I reckon, but I didn’t snoop through it or anything.”
“Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it,” he says, opening the door when he hears a buzz and the lock release. Stepping inside, he isn’t surprised to see new tile in the lobby. “Jesus, Tony’s really investing a lot in this place. He isn’t going to be able to recoup that cost unless he raises the rent, which he told me he isn’t planning to do.”
“It’ll be a write off of some kind, I’m sure,” Lydia says. “People with his level of fortune can throw money away and never really notice it. This isn’t high end, though. It’s cost effective and looks a lot better than what was here before, so it’s a win-win.”
“Must be nice,” Stiles says with a snort. “The ‘being able to spend money to help people without even noticing it’s gone’ part, that is..” He stops walking and stares at the elevator. “Holy shit. New elevators. Lydia, I’m afraid that Tony’s made this place pretty damn irresistible.”
“If you don’t move out of this neighborhood, I bet you that he’ll make it less irresistible,” Lydia says confidently. “Don’t give me that look, babe. You know that I’m right. The building might finally be brought into the modern century and have a little security in place, but it’s still not a great area.”
“It isn’t that bad,” Bucky says, holding the elevator door open for them. “Maybe I’m just used to the drug addicts furtively eyeing every vehicle and person for potential targets, though.”
“Smartass,” Stiles says, lightly punching his arm as he steps onto the elevator. “I’d like to point out that there are probably just as many drug addicts around the new apartment than there are here. It’s just that those addicts live in fancy condos on the Upper East Side and have the money to protect their dealers and habits.”
Lydia arches a brow. “You know, I can’t deny that because I met plenty of that type during my years in Boston,” she says thoughtfully. “And I have to say that most of them were more obnoxious than the thieves around here. At least, none of the people around here try to hit on me. Rob me? Sure, but no catcalls.”
“Not to, like, take away from men being disgusting, but do you smell that?,” Bucky asks, looking around the elevator. Stiles gives him a confused look because he doesn’t smell anything. Bucky seems to understand his expression because he nods. “That’s what I mean, Doc. It doesn’t smell like a men’s urinal anymore.”
“Oh, damn. You’re right,” Stiles says, sniffing more deliberately. “I didn’t even notice. The elevator has smelled that way since I moved in, so I became immune to it. Wow. I bet the neighbors are thrilled about that.”
The elevator stops on his floor, and the doors open to show a newly carpeted hallway. Stiles is going to have to ask Tony how he got so much work done in such a short time. Even with basically unlimited money, this is a lot of cosmetic and structural work that’s been finished. He’s impressed, especially when the place now looks better than a few of the properties they toured in the Upper East Side.
“You know, this is amazing for the people who live here. I moved here because it’s the only affordable place I could find that also wasn’t as dangerous as the cheaper places around, and there are others here for the same reason,” he says. “Or those like Frank and Terri who live on a limited budget and had to take the best of the worst.”
“Huh, imagine that,” Bucky says, giving him a pointed look. “Not all superheroes are vigilantes in tights who don’t give back to the communities they sometimes destroy. I’m just so surprised.”
“Someone’s feeling feisty today,” Stiles says, poking Bucky in the ribs. “I think you must have had too much rest yesterday because you’re very quick-witted at the moment, Buck. I’m going to get a complex if I can’t keep up with you.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m normally slow, Doc?” Bucky asks, fighting back a grin. “That’s how it sounds to me, so you might want to rethink how you say that or else you might hurt my feelings.”
“Can we stop the hallway flirting and actually enter the apartment sometime today?” Lydia interrupts them, not looking at all concerned by that fact. “While I do love you, Stiles, and I’m thrilled that you’ve found someone who makes you happy, we do have other things to get accomplished today.”
“Right, we do,” he says, the one task he’s avoided thinking about since Tuesday coming to mind. He frowns as he gets his keys out, unlocking his door and entering the apartment for the first time since the attempted fire.
There aren’t any weird smells, which is a relief. He isn’t sure what he expected, but it looks pretty much the same as usual. His sofa is gone, leaving an empty spot that’s pretty obvious, and the cardboard moving boxes definitely need to be replaced. Otherwise, he doesn’t notice anything different.
“Well, it seems that the neighbor kid did remove the sofa, at least,” Lydia says, wrinkling her nose slightly as she sniffs. “I don’t smell anything burned, which is surprising. It stank of burned fabric right after the arson attempt.”
“It’s been a couple of weeks, so maybe the smell faded over time,” Stiles says, shrugging. “I don’t smell anything now. Those moving boxes are going to need to be replaced. I’m surprised they haven’t broken with how much water damage they have. Fortunately, the water was around the sofa and not the entire apartment. The boxes with my books are still sturdy.”
“The bedroom wasn’t sprayed with water, either,” Bucky says. “When you initially passed out, I moved you to your bed, and everything was dry in there. I didn’t know how long you’d be out at the time, so I kinda expected you to wake up soon after. When you were still out by the time Lydia arrived, I realized it was going to be a while.”
“Magical exhaustion, even with the surge of borrowed power from the pack, always requires an appropriate amount of time to replenish his energy,” Lydia says. “He rarely goes so far that he passes out, though. It’s normally just a tired spell, possibly a little dozing, but he also doesn’t normally do what he did that morning.”
“Thank God,” Bucky says honestly. “The magic is killer diller, but I couldn’t stand to see him that way all of the time. I was worried when he collapsed after it was all over, especially when it took so long for him to wake up.”
“It usually doesn’t happen like that, Buck,” Stiles says, walking over to wrap his arms around Bucky from behind. He rests his cheek against his shoulder, squeezing him tightly. “Don’t look so worried. I’m a doctor, so I rarely use my magic for superhero level shit. When I use it, it’s usually just minor little charms or occasionally like that night in the alley.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in tights, Doc,” Bucky says in a flirtatious tone. He turns his head to look back at him. “But you also fill out those scrubs of yours really well, so I’m not complaining.”
“Why, I do declare. Are you flirting with me, Mr. Barnes?” Stiles asks, batting his eyelashes and pursing his lips. He tries to pull off an exaggerated southern accent, but he knows he sounds ridiculous. “A handsome man like you is making eyes at little ol’ me? I can’t believe it.”
“Me either,” Lydia says dryly. “I’m starting to understand why Tony started to keep a water bottle in your little superhero room. Pepper told me about that, but I foolishly assumed it was Tony being an asshole. Now, I’m thinking that I might need one because you’re both incorrigible.”
“Maybe so, but you love us anyway,” Stiles says in a sing-song voice. He makes a kissy face at her while she rolls her eyes. “In fact, you love me so much that you moved to Manhattan, babe. And you’re glad that I’m in a sickeningly sweet relationship because you don’t have to lecture me anymore about shutting myself away and not being open to dating. Pretend all you want, but I know the truth.”
“Right. The ridiculously high salary, promotion, and research opportunities had nothing to do with my move at all,” Lydia deadpans, and he can’t stop himself from chuckling at her perfect delivery. She looks smug as she blows him a kiss. “But I do agree with the relationship comment, especially considering you refused to even acknowledge that you were dating James for weeks. Friends who kiss ring any bells, babe?”
“You think that took a while?” Bucky snorts. “The stubborn ass refused to even call me his friend for years and years.” He yelps when Stiles pinches his butt. “Hey, no damaging the goods, Doc. Not unless you’re planning to kiss it better later.” He twists slightly and presses a quick kiss against Stiles’ mouth. “Stop looking constipated, Lydia. We’ve been dealing with Hydra, danger, and rescues for days now, so we deserve time to indulge in flirty banter.”
“Not to mention the attempted murders,” Stiles adds, not bringing up death because he’s not thinking about that right now. He nudges Bucky before letting go and turning to face Lydia. “But we’ll be respectful and pause the flirting for now.”
“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Lydia says, walking over to kiss his cheek. “Now, focusing on the reason that we’re here, the apartment doesn’t look too bad. We need to buy you some new moving boxes to replace these few, of course. Then all that’s left will be packing up the kitchen and bedroom.”
“I need moving boxes for that, too, but I don’t have much in the kitchen,” he says. “A few basic pans, cheap plates, and a set of silverware that I ordered off Amazon. Oh, I also have some small appliances, but I never got around to buying much because I’m always working and usually eat takeout or food that’s easy to make.”
“Speaking from experience, he isn’t exaggerating,” Bucky says. “The first time I tried to cook for him, I had to revise my ideas because of his lack of, well, everything . He didn’t even start keeping food in the fridge until he realized that I was here to stay.”
“Don’t listen to his complaining, Lydia,” Stiles tells her. “He thinks he’s some kind of expert chef because he binged hours of the Food Network when he was recovering in Wakanda. Pepper indulged him by giving him that ridiculously fancy chef’s kitchen at his place, so he thinks everyone can afford separate appliances just to poach an egg.”
“You like my fancy kitchen, Doc,” Bucky reminds him. “Especially when I’m making you food.” He flashes a teasing smile, and Stiles narrows his eyes, waiting for whatever Bucky’s about to say. “I wonder if that’s the alpha thing. Is there some kind of primal instinct about being fed that I should know about as your mate?”
“You aren’t allowed to spend unsupervised time with Peter anymore,” Stiles decides, rolling his eyes when Lydia laughs. “He’s obviously not a good influence on you if you’re going around talking about mates and primal instincts now.” He arches his brow and gives Bucky his most serious face. “Did he tell you about the self-lubricating ass and alpha knots? I assume he must have since he was going on about instincts.”
“Oh God,” Lydia says, laughing so hard that he’s pretty sure he sees tears in her eyes. She shakes her head when he maintains his serious face, and she manages to stop laughing, looking just as serious to anyone who doesn’t know her extremely well. “Not the knotting. Seriously, Stiles. How haven’t you already had that conversation with James? Now, it’s too late for him to refuse to be your mate.”
“I get the feeling that I’m supposed to be concerned about whatever you two are talking about,” Bucky says slowly, “but I’m not seeing a downside to not having to buy lube at the corner drug store where that judgmental old lady works.” He shrugs when they look at him. “As for the knotting thing? I love you, Doc. Even if your dick gets weird sometimes.”
It’s said in such an earnest tone that Stiles has to stare at him for several silent moments before he groans. “You’re such a troll,” Stiles accuses, punching his arm. He grimaces because he didn’t pay attention and hit the metal arm instead of the softer ones. It didn’t hurt because he wasn’t hitting hard, but it was still a surprise. “Who told you about those things, Buck? Your poor innocent mind is being corrupted.”
“I’m not sure when anyone could have last called my mind innocent, Doc,” Bucky says honestly. “And Shuri is the one who introduced me to all the modern slang and craziness that the internet has to offer. She loves to troll her brother, and I was curious about the various references, so she decided to educate me. I know way more about things like fandoms and knotting and omegas than I ever wanted to know.” He snorts. “She believed in being thorough at the same time she kept pushing to get a reaction. Just like Peter, she eventually realized that just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m easily shockable.”
“You play up the wide-eyed naive thing really well,” Stiles says, knowing it’s a talent that not everyone has. “But I know that you’re not just a pretty face. Too many people just assume that being born in the tens—the nineteen tens, that is—means you’re old-fashioned and gullible.”
“If you had told me even six months ago that I’d be living in Manhattan and sitting around discussing the fact that my baby brother’s boyfriend was born before sliced bread was invented, I’d have thought you were crazy,” Lydia points out, shaking her head. “Just goes to show that we really have no idea what life’s plans are for us.”
“Wait. The sliced bread thing is true, isn’t it? What the fuck,” Stiles says, blinking. “Dude, I’m into, like, ancient hotties, aren’t I? Is that even a thing?”
“Guess I’ll have to be worried if we meet any other super soldiers from the Second World War then,” Bucky says with a snort. “Or vampires, if we’re including the supernatural world. I’m glad Steve’s not around or I might have had competition for your affections.”
“You’re both stupid,” Lydia says in a fond tone, which means she totally approves of Bucky. Not that Stiles had any reasons to doubt that considering she’s not going to support the relationship if she didn’t think it was good for him. “We should start going through the things you haven’t packed to determine if there’s anything you don’t need or want anymore. That can give us a more accurate idea of the moving supplies that we need to get.”
“Yeah, I want to pack a suitcase, too, so I can get some of my clothes over to the new apartment,” he says. “But, first, I’m going to run downstairs to grab my mail from Frank. If I don’t do it now, I’m more likely to forget about it.”
“That’s a good idea, Doc,” Bucky says. “I’d already forgotten about it. I’ll start packing a suitcase for you. You’re going to need more of your work clothes at my place, too, since you're going back tomorrow night.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Stiles groans. “I mean, I love my job, and I’m definitely looking forward to getting back to work, but so much shit has happened that I still feel like I can’t trust anyone I work with at all.” He rubs his hand over his face. “Not to mention the fact that Lucas is still recovering, that Kaminsky is gone, and that Trini won’t be there.”
“I can’t imagine,” Lydia says honestly. “It’s not going to be easy, especially knowing everything that’s really been happening, but you’ll find a way to get through it.”
“Yeah, I will,” he says. “I’ve been through worse things, after all. Anyway, I’ll be right back. Buck, you’re in charge of clothes. Don’t let Lydia throw out any plaid or flannel. She has an illogical hatred of both.”
When Lydia starts to defend her dislike of his shirts and claim she likes plaid, he leaves the apartment. Despite the new elevators, Stiles just takes the stairs down to the ground floor. Frank and Terri live down the hall, near the end, and he idly makes a mental note to ask Tony to look into adding a wheelchair ramp out front for accessibility.
Terri opens the door after two knocks, her graying hair pulled up into a messy bun. She smiles when she sees him, stepping forward to give him a hug. “We’ve been worried about you, Stiles,” she says, patting his back. He’s never had an Italian grandma, obviously, but he thinks she’d be a lot like Terri if he did have one. “That man of yours carried you out of here the day of the fire, and we haven’t seen you since.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “With the holidays and everything else, I just got so busy that this is the first chance I’ve had to come home.”
“Give the boy a chance to breathe, Terri,” Frank says, rolling over to them. “You’re going to suffocate him if you don’t loosen your grip. Did you have a good Christmas, Stiles? I bet all this snow and ice has your emergency department busy with injuries.”
“Don’t listen to him, dear. He spent half of Christmas perched in the window watching people slipping on the sidewalks,” Terri says. “I think he enjoyed that more than the football game.”
“Damn right, I did,” Frank says shamelessly. “It was like watching a bunch of baby giraffes learning how to walk. It was hilarious.” He grins at Stiles. “No one was seriously injured, either. Just their pride.”
“I’ve been off work since the fire, actually,” he says. “I’m sure it’s busy, though. This time of year tends to have more Ortho issues as well as respiratory illnesses. I go back to work tomorrow night, so we’ll see how it goes.”
“What do you think about all of the recent renovations?” Terri asks. “We’ve lived here for over twenty years, and it’s the first time the owners have ever invested in the building. Since we came back after that awful investigation, there have been people here working on things.”
“What was the investigation like?” he asks curiously. “I’ve been staying with Jay, and I just know the fire investigator had the place locked down for a couple of days. Did they find anything?”
“If they did, we don’t know about it,” Terri says. “There were men who got caught by Captain America— we don’t even know how he found out about them, but he helped stop things from being much worse than they could have been.”
“Your uncle actually saved me,” Frank tells him. “Terri was out, and I could smell the smoke, but I couldn’t get out. He carried me and my chair. Faye told me there were multiple fires throughout the building, and people could have been hurt or killed if those sprinklers hadn’t worked.”
“Sprinklers,” Terri echoes, making a scoffing noise. “Frank, we all know this place never had a sprinkler system. Even if it did, it wouldn’t have worked. That had to have come from some superhero who can control water. It’s the only explanation, and you know it, Frank. Why do you think Stark Industries suddenly bought the building? It was to protect whoever was working with Captain America that day because they saved us.”
“Hush, woman,” Frank says, shushing her. “You can’t be talking about that. We signed those agreements, and we don’t need Stark Industries after us because you’re flapping your lips.”
“I’m not going around talking to the press,” Terri says, rolling her eyes as she smiles at Stiles. “He lives here, and the lease agreement we signed didn’t say anything about not talking to our neighbors. The younger Stark isn’t as ruthless as his dad was, Frank. He’s become a family man over the years, and he does good things with his money.”
“Was Stark’s father ruthless?” Stiles asks curiously. “I’ve never been into real life superheroes, so I don’t know much, if anything, about their history. I just know Stark is ridiculously rich and used to sell weapons before completely changing their business model several years ago.”
“Stark was the type of business man you see in movies about rich men doing anything they can to keep making money,” Frank says with a scowl. “He’d have sold his own kid for power and money. No way would he have ever bought an apartment building just to protect someone else like his son has done.”
With a parent like that, it’s not surprising then that Tony is so focused on being a good dad for Morgan. Stiles feels his phone buzz in his pocket, pulling it out to see a message from Bucky.
I’m trying to save your inappropriate t-shirt collection from your judgmental sister. She has very strong opinions about them.
“I should probably get back to my place before Lydia gets rid of all of my clothes,” he says, smiling wryly when Terri laughs. “Jay said she’s raiding my closet. You said I have mail here, Frank?”
“Yeah, your mailbox couldn’t hold it all,” Frank says. “I told Benny that I’d keep it for you until you got back. Fortunately, he knows that I always keep your mail for you whenever you’re out of town.” He rolls his chair over to their dining table. “You’re going to have to come get it, Stiles.”
“There’s that much junk mail?” Stiles asks, walking over to join Frank. He’s used to getting random advertisements and credit card applications, but all of his bills are electronic. “I was only gone for a couple of weeks.”
“I don’t think that it’s all junk mail,” Frank says, pushing a pile across the table. Reaching over, he taps a box with an Amazon logo. “That’s also yours. It’s a day late, but close enough to Christmas that it still counts. Right?”
“I don’t think gifts that are mailed have the same expectations for opening,” he says, dragging the box closer to him so he can look at the label to see who sent him a gift. There isn’t a name or address for the sender, and it isn’t a normal Amazon label. It’s a handwritten label with his birth name. Who the hell would send him something using that name? “Thanks for keeping it for me, Frank.”
“Any time, Stiles,” Frank says, squeezing his arm. “I know you’re planning on moving in with that sweet sister of yours, but don’t be a stranger.”
“I’m not moving yet, but I’ll definitely stay in touch whenever I do,” he says honestly. He picks up the box, which is heavier than he expects, and the stack of mail. “I hope that you two have a great new year.”
“You, too, dear,” Terri says, kissing his cheek. “Try not to work so hard next year. You’re too young to spend all of your time working. Hopefully, your young man will help make sure of that. He seems like a good boy.”
“He’s great,” Stiles says, kissing her cheek before he leaves their apartment. Since the box and mail are an awkward combination to carry, he decides to take the elevator back upstairs.
As he goes up, he taps his fingers against the box, trying to figure out who mailed him something. If it was anyone he knows well, they wouldn’t have used his real name, so he doesn’t have a clue who it’s from. It doesn’t take long before he reaches his floor, which is good because he wants to know what’s in the box.
“Hey, I got a mysterious package that I’m about to open,” he says as he enters his apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. “Frank’s had it for days, so it probably isn’t a bomb or anything.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Doc?” Bucky asks, actually running into the room. “A bomb?”
“I said that it isn’t a bomb,” he says, tossing the mail on his table and shaking the box. “Look at the size of this thing. No way it’s a bomb.”
“Who’s it from?” Lydia asks, walking into the room holding two of his t-shirts. She looks at the label and frowns. “This isn’t from Amazon. They have a standardized label for packages with their logo.”
“Mieczyslaw Stilinski, MD,” Bucky reads, actually pronouncing it correctly on the first attempt. “That’s certainly a mouthful. In more ways than one.” He winks before trying to look serious when Lydia focuses her frown on him. “I’m just saying that it seems kind of formal since no one friendly with you is going to use that name instead of Stiles.”
“Hydra doesn’t strike me as the type to send a care package in an Amazon box,” Stiles points out, “but I’ll run a quick charm on it to make sure it isn’t dangerous to me. Okay?”
“It’s the least you can do considering people have been trying to kill you,” Lydia says dryly. “Hopefully, it isn’t some kind of bomb considering how much you’ve been shaking the box.”
“It’s too heavy to be a bomb,” Stiles says. “At least, the hunters we came across who used that kind of thing didn’t make heavy ones. It feels more solid than that; there isn’t any kind of rattling when I shake it.”
He sits down and puts the box on the top of the small dining table. Concentrating, he thinks if the contents of this box are dangerous to me or my pack, I’m going to know before I open it. He feels a warm tingle across his skin as his magic flows. The box is briefly surrounded by a pale light that fades away, leaving just the box.
“Looks like it isn’t a risk,” he says, pulling on the tape. It rips part of the cardboard, but he’s eventually able to get the tape off the top of the box. “Lydia, maybe you should step away from the table when I open it, just in case.”
“Just in case?” Bucky asks, snorting. “Nice to know that you aren’t concerned about me being at the table if the thing blows up. I feel the love, Doc.”
“You’re resilient, like I am,” Stiles says simply. “Lydia is human even thiugh she’s got a slightly extended life cycle if she’s able to live peacefully and die of old age.”
“If I actually blew up, I’m not entirely sure how the serum would be able to help me survive being pieces,” Bucky tells him, arching a brow. “I’d rather not experiment to find out, either.”
“It’s safe,” Stiles says seriously. “If I had any doubts at all, I’d just use my magic to destroy it. Since I know it’s fine, I can’t resist opening it to see what it is and who sent it. I’m hoping maybe it’s season tickets to the Mets. That would be pretty cool.”
“I trust you,” Bucky says, “and your magic.” Stiles leans over and kisses him before he can say anything else. When he pulls back, Bucky smiles slightly. “Open the box, Doc. I know how much you like getting presents.”
“Guilty,” he says, shrugging because it’s true. He pulls the flaps of the box open and looks inside. Frowning, he picks up a red envelope with his legal name on it, which is lying on top of bright yellow tissue paper. “I’m being very grown up by actually opening the envelope first because I’m dying to know what’s under the tissue paper.”
“We’re very proud,” Lydia says indulgently. “What’s in the envelope? I’d like to know if that bulge is part of the card or something else because I know what it reminds me of.”
“It’s not attached to a card,” Stiles says, moving the envelope at a tilt and showing her how the bulge slides. Opening the envelope, he pulls out a thumb drive and a card with a photo of a beach. “Curious and curiouser.”
He puts the thumb drive down and opens the card, a letter falling out of it. The card is empty, so he gets the letter and opens it, surprised that it’s two pages. As he begins to read, he knows that his eyes are wide because he can’t believe what he’s reading. He finishes reading it and sits back in his chair, just staring at it. Lydia clears her throat deliberately, and Bucky huffs a laugh at her obvious attempt to get Stiles’ attention.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just processing,” he admits, running his hand over his face. “It’s from Dr. Wash. He, uh, he sent it to me. Here, I’ll just read it because it’ll make more sense, and it’s kinda long.”
Dr. Stilinski,
When I was first approached to participate in the research project by someone I had once known as a trusted peer, I believed that the ultimate goal was legitimate. In hindsight, I recognize that I allowed my ego and pride to sway me against any reservations that I might have initially had when invited. I told you that these people are insane and irrational, but I don’t think you truly understand the danger.
I’m leaving tomorrow morning for a vacation rental on a secluded island. It’s the easy choice, as you so snidely pointed out the other morning, but I’m much too old and selfish to do anything more than hide until it’s over. You’re young and know more than you acknowledge, so I decided that I’d send you this parting gift before I leave.
Now, you can make that choice between what’s right and what’s easy. I made copies of the research from others and saved them to the USB that I’ve included in this card. It has everything on it that would be needed to stop them from fulfilling their destructive goal. I’ve also included the only copy of my own research, which is vital for their replication of the virus.
Be warned, Dr. Stilinski. There are those close to you who are involved in this, people that you trust who are planning horrible things for the world. Dr. Malakar was a bright young doctor that I corresponded with for years prior to her immigration to this country, but I never realized how dangerous she is until she recruited me to this project.
It would be much safer for you to destroy everything in this box and avoid fighting Goliath, because that is what they are with their unlimited resources and power. If you decide to battle them, I wish you luck.
Regards,
Victor F. Wash, MD
When he finishes reading the letter, he hands it to Lydia, who has her hand out. “It’s dated the fourteenth, which was a Saturday,” he tells her. “They killed him that night and ransacked his place looking for this.”
Bucky reaches over and pulls the tissue paper out of the box. There’s a stack of vanilla file folders and a legal size notepad with writing just as precise and small as that in the card he just read. Smack in the middle of it all is a ten pound weight, which Wash must have added to make the box heavier.
“This is what they’ve been looking for,” Bucky says, pulling out some of the paperwork. “Maybe Bruce would understand this because it’s way too much science for my brain, but it’s a ton of notes here.”
“Trini’s the one who recruited Wash,” Lydia points out. “He must have struck up a professional relationship when she was practicing medicine in Kolkata, which makes me wonder if she deliberately chose the hospital he worked at in order to get his help with her master plan.”
“We need to look at the files on the thumb drive and see if there are any names that we don’t know yet,” Stiles says. “Once we’ve checked it out, you can take it all and do whatever’s needed on your end, Buck. You can give it to Maria since SHIELD is the contact for stopping Nergal and its agents. Maybe it can help them build cases against those we didn’t kill.”
“Right now, we should wrap things up here and get you and this box back to my place where I know you’re safe and protected,” Bucky says. “I have a suitcase packed for you, and we can just come back to finish with this place later.”
“Good idea,” Stiles says, not bothering to argue because he really wants to get to his laptop so they can look at the files. He looks at them and smiles wryly. “Looks like our holiday is over. Time to get back to work and make sure everyone involved is caught.”