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It is entirely possible Ava regrets ever willingly interacting with another person. Unfortunately she's stuck with them if she's to have any chance making it home. So, really, the idea of it being willing is perhaps null. Of course, she could have chosen not to partake in the conversation, but then she'd be stuck listening to whatever nonsense Yelena and Walker felt like talking about - such as the potential of a child inheriting any powers one of the parents had acquired from an outside source. It had started because Yelena was curious if Walker's son had "popped out super strong". Not that anyone asked her opinion, but Ava had mentioned she thought it would be irresponsible for someone with abilities to risk having a child without at least considering the possibility. To which, Walker almost absently said doctors told him it wouldn't be an issue. It was odd to her, but she knew better than to ask him about it. Some conversations were better saved for later, when one party isn't feeling extremely vulnerable.
Then Yelena asked if the serum effected "any of the fun stuff". He sighed, but said not really. He just has to be more careful not to hurt anyone. Yelena hadn't even noticed what he'd actually said, instead briefly musing on how she thinks removing her uterus may have reduced her interest in sex, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the shift in hormones or the trauma of it. Or if she may have never been all that interested in the first place. Ava had been only half listening until this point.
"Have you ever?" Yelena asks, drawing her attention.
Her jaw clenches. "Have I ever...?" She wasn't offended by the topic of sex, in the abstract sense. Gender preference, favourite position, favourite hook-up, types of orgasms or kinks, horror stories, so on. But the particulars on some things were not topics up for discussion. She wasn't ashamed. Not really. She's fine.
"Is only because, you know, how you grew up, and that," she waves her hands over her face and body, "thing you do, whatever it's called - what, what is with this look you are giving me?" Ava has her eyes closed, trying to comprehend how Yelena managed to tick every box that should remain unticked, so Walker must be making a face.
He laughs in that incredibly condescending and disbelieving way he's so fond of. "Yelena. C'mon." Hilarious. Somehow it's the American that can read the room.
"What, we're all adults. Just curious." Yelena doesn't even play innocent. Just sits there on her rock, looking at Ava expectantly. Fucking hell.
Ava knows her anger is about to get away from her, but fuck this - she's been tolerating these two far longer than she's had to put up with anyone in years. All of the pent-up stress has come to a tipping point.
"Have I ever attempted to have sex wearing my fully insulated quantum spacesuit that doesn't even have a zipper, or have I ever considered quite literally temporarily disintegrating myself without it in order to get off? Or are you really asking if I'm a virgin?" As if the clarification were at all needed. As if her answer would change. "Are you my therapist, now? I mean, you did so well with Bob he went and tried to-" Walker nudges her knee and her eyes snap to him, his eyes wide and brow raised. Right, so now she's the bitch. "Don't look at me like that. This isn't some fun sleepover. We're three reprobates in forced proximity, burning some bark you pulled off this weird fucking tree so we don't freeze to death because for some reason it's four degrees out. In the fucking desert."
Walker almost looks like he wants to challenge her on the 'reprobate' bit, but otherwise nods his acquiescence, looking back at Yelena reproachfully, like he'd taken on some mantle of being the senior authority. He leans closer to Ava on their shared tree root and lowers his voice. "Coulda just said 'fuck off' or something. You didn't have to..." He subtly nods across the fire toward a speechless Yelena.
Ava bristles further. "Sorry I don't meet your standards in terms of responding to incredibly intrusive questions," she spits at him. She'd go in on him about his saviour complex, but he wasn't worth the breath and you don't slash the tires on your getaway car.
Walker looks taken aback, but is surprisingly demure. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Ava stares at him, waiting for the 'but' or the invalidating humour that's sure to follow. He shrugs and continues to fiddle with a stick he'd plucked from the very end of a branch. Oh, fuck him.
Chances are he could make it all the way back to civilization without their assistance, but maybe he hasn't figured that part out yet. Or maybe he's helping because he gets off on knowing their survival is dependent on him. Prick.
She looks between the both of them, then off into the distance contemplatively. She's struck by a memory. Hank had sent a letter to Bill (via carrier-ant), apologizing for the history between them. Ava openly questioned his intentions. After what she did, she'd firmly believed this peace was conditional. Bill told her not every apology came with a 'but'.
She would contact him, but she'd changed when he was gone for those five years. Well, actually, she hasn't.
Sod it. She's about to say something when Yelena beats her to it.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. You and I both grew up so..." Her eyes briefly start watering. "And guess I..." Yelena shakes her head, dismissing a thought. "I shouldn't have asked."
What a fucking bitch. Of course, Ava doesn't know how to respond to this, let alone twice in quick succession. With Bill, she could just nod and he understood. (At least, she hopes he did.) She sucks in a deep breath and holds it. Her suit squeezes against her inflated chest in that oddly grounding, comforting way she likes. "Thank you." The words are stilted and clumsy in her mouth. And that's the issue.
Ava stands abruptly and marches off. Not too far because she's not insane. She stops only a few meters away and starts pacing at the edge of the light of the fire. When she briefly glances at them, Walker is watching her, nods a little - whether to her or himself, she isn't sure - and goes back to stoking the flames.
Following their escape, she'd gone her own way after a few days because she was sure authorities would divert their attention if she showed up on security footage here and there, maybe steal some equipment from Avengers Tower. It had worked far more than she'd expected. It took her three weeks and several favours to discover what had happened to Bill. Unfortunately, Val managed to track her down around this time and convinced Ava to work for her. She'd been staying near where he was last seen, hoping that he would just magically come back. She wasn't even in the country when he finally did.
They've spoken a few times since then. Said he'll be there if she needs him. She's afraid he'll take it back when he finds out that it wasn't the pain that made her into this. It comes back every now and then, but she can usually try to manage it by refraining from phasing when she's not in the suit. Working for Val involved wearing the suit quite frequently.
No, she had started working for Valentina because this is all she knows how to do. It's all she can do. It's a bit difficult trying to live a normal life when the only people she had ever interacted with up to that point outside of Bill were S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives or assassination targets. Scott and the Pym-van Dynes were radio-silent. She didn't know if it was because they got vanished, or they just didn't want to deal with her. She can't say she'd blame them for avoiding her after everything she did.
She needs to get a grip. Every time she goes down this particular rabbit hole, she ends up doing the same thing, and that particular coping mechanism is not an option right now. Ugh. This sucks.
She storms back up to them and stares into the fire. The fire is easier to talk to. "Everyone I knew vanished during the Blip. I'd only just been able to control my molecular disequilibrium, and so every time I thought I might disappear," she flinches refusing to look away from the fire. See their faces. "I would go to some random bar and find the first person willing."
She sighs. She's only just gotten to the hardest part. Instead of letting her throat close up, she sharpens every word. "And I'm sorry I implied you made Bob want to off himself," she winces. Christ. Stiff upper lip or whatever the fuck they say. "It was fucked up. I fucked up and I'm sorry." Why does she care about how they feel? She doesn't. She can make eye contact, because it doesn't matter. Her breath catches anyway.
She looks up. First, at Yelena because. Well. She could gauge the impact of her apology for future reference.
It's not a 'carefully' neutral face. It's just. Neutral. Like it's taking a second for Yelena to compute what she'd just heard. Then she gives a half-shrug and nods. "I get it." Ava waits. "Thanks." No side comment. No follow up. Good. Not that she needs either of them to be okay with it.
She looks at Walker. He looks at her. Then Yelena. Then back to her, waiting for either of them to start yelling. She can feel her brow furrow in confusion before she thinks to stop it, because his reaction doesn't matter. Obviously.
Then he breaks. "I don't think either of you could fully comprehend how much people in active service suck and fuck. Anyone. Everyone." They stare at him, dumbfounded. He scoffs derisively. "Not me, obviously! I was married," he tacks on, as if they were about to accuse him otherwise. "'Course, some people left their rings at home. Some people just had flings. Others are still together." He shrugs. That's that.
Yelena nods, her lips twitching, unsure if she's going to laugh or not. Now, she feigns innocence. "So. Did you have any privacy or-"
"I am an unfortunately light sleeper," he says with a sad smile, but Ava thinks it's a sarcastic one. The kind a person does when they're not really sad. Honestly, this information is absurd - even more so having heard it from him.
Yelena snorts, leaning forward teasingly. "Could be hot. I am not up to date on how a soldier might find release." Walker meets Yelena's curious gaze with a thousand-yard stare that says there will not be an answer to her unasked question. Thank Christ. These past ten minutes are going to be left in this desert. Ava nudges Yelena over and manages to sit.
Yelena exhales. Ava feels her leg bouncing and hefts it over the other. It's not the most comfortable position in this suit, especially with only half her ass perched on the side of a rock. "Did you guys know a person could actually go mad if they go without human touch long enough?" The words come out unbidden.
"I did a lot of panic research when Liv was pregnant." He pokes the fire.
Yelena sighs. "Does fighting count?" she asks with a nonchalance Ava wishes she could manage.
Walker finally looks doubtful. "I don't know. Wouldn't think so."
"This explains so much."
Neither of them asks what Yelena means by that.
Walker suggests they could take shifts keeping watch. Yelena assures him she'll know if anything approaches them. Calls it her 'widow senses'. Ava says his own enhanced perception should be enough to remain alert. Really, she just doesn't want to. The flattery works, however, and he capitulates. They try to fend off the desert wind by sheltering themselves between the rocks and roots of the juniper tree. Her suit helps, but only to an extent.
It's less than ten minutes before Yelena is apparently bored of her own thoughts and whispers, "Can I poke your face?"
Ava scoffs. "You really just say anything, don't you." She's beginning to think it's a Russian thing.
"Or you could pat my head or something." Yelena begins concentrating on the lines she's drawing in the sand.
Oh. That's what she's getting at. "My gloves are attached to my suit."
Yelena nods understandingly, if a bit somberly.
Simultaneously, they both look over and see Walker curled away from them with one arm under his head as a makeshift pillow, pretending to sleep. She wonders if the serum fends off the cold. They don't say anything. Ava sees Yelena's fingers twitch abortively under her head where they're pressed together when she gives a less than quiet sigh. She somehow frowns a perfect semicircle. Still nothing from Walker.
Ava feels... something. Not concern. Or pity. She thinks she knows it. Being on this side of it is different. She'd last felt it when Bill told her about Claire. Normally it's just a look Bill gives her when she would sew together another hole in one of the few hoodies that didn't scratch at her skin and was still breathable. She shifts position slightly, aiming to flick a pebble at him.
He speaks before she can fire her shot. "Jesus Christ you have got to be kidding me." He rolls over to look at them, his brow pinched enough to make a funny little divot. "Why don't you take your gloves off?"
With a profound sadness, Yelena admits, "My widow bites are wired to my suit. Is a real bitch to disconnect."
"Your- what? But. You have fingerless gloves. You can just poke her, like you said." He doesn't sound all that actually upset. She can feel herself smirk at his distress. Half the fun annoying him is witnessing his dramatics.
Yelena groans, tossing her limbs in different directions. The both of them could start a theatre troupe. "But now I want a head pat."
"I don't know. You could, like. Touch foreheads. Or cheeks or something." He sounds hesitant. They let him stew in it for a moment and he clears his throat.
She leans up on one elbow and tilts her head to just the right angle for maximum effect. "That seems incredibly intimate," Ava states with a dry sarcasm.
Yelena scrunches her brow in mock-offense. "And horribly inappropriate. We've tried to kill each other, you know."
"You just-!" His voice has raised in octaves, but not in volume. She doesn't know why they're all whispering. She chuckles to herself, earning her a glare. She finally flicks a small pebble at him but he bats it away.
"Besides, your gloves are already off." Yelena nods at his helmet and gloves off to the side next to his shield. He'd leaned it against a part of the root that arched above the ground in an attempt to reduce the wind. From this angle, she can actually see that he's positioned himself parallel to the root, and that there are a few more gaps than just the one. Oh. "This doesn't have to be anything other than preventing my descent into madness."
"You seem pretty crazy to me already," he grunts, lips slanting up on one side.
Yelena manages to shrug while still sprawled awkwardly. "You don't actually have to. I'm mostly joking." A sliver of self-doubt hides between the lines.
The offer of an out only seems fair. "You can say no," Ava adds.
"I know!" It sounds more like complaining than yelling. Walker looks to be deep in thought, if the solitary wrinkle still being present is anything to go by. "Fine. But you gotta come over here."
Yelena giggles mischievously like she isn't suddenly, genuinely pleased before she monkey crawls over to him. She lays her cheek on her folded hands, offering him the top of her head.
Reaching forward, his frown has vanished and he almost looks a little nervous. He hesitates. Then he awkwardly puts his full palm and fingers against her head. Yelena's shoulders fall like she's let out a breath she'd unknowingly been holding. Walker pats her twice and leaves it there. When she doesn't pull away, he scratches lightly and runs his fingers through her hair. It doesn't look romantic, but it does seem oddly intimate. For reasons beyond her, Ava doesn't feel inclined to look away.
She feels like if someone is hurting or in need, maybe strangers can be there for each other. She wonders how much of it is driven by a human's pack-bonding instincts and how much is cultural empathy. Are they even mutually exclusive? Does she still feel those ties after having been, quite literally, physically changed all the way down to the quantum level?
Would she have still been so distant if the accident hadn't torn her apart? Had either or both of her parents survived, would she have learned to experience human companionship normally as opposed to dissecting absolutely every decision a person makes, expecting some ulterior motive? Like Bill said, not every apology has a 'but'. Not every choice is conditional. A lot of them might, but not all of them.
Her impending existential nihilism is interrupted by the sound of soft snoring. Walker pauses before pulling his hand back. He looks over to Ava. Expressions are difficult for her to decipher, and his especially. They just watch each other for a while. It's odd how he can be such a selfish prick and be so open and understanding at the same time. Is it because of his family? Past or present? Why had he said he is careful not to hurt 'anyone' when they were talking earlier and not just his wife? Was it implied, or was it including himself?
Walker flops onto his back. Ava notices Yelena sleeping with her mouth slightly open, her lips in a small pout. So much for 'widow senses'. Still, in order to avoid waking her, Ava phases out of reality and wills herself to move, drifting through a nothingness that even her own mind can hardly comprehend. When she reappears, she's on her hands and knees leaning over his head. He doesn't flinch. Had he known that she would do this? Did he assume she wasn't going to hurt him? Is he trusting her, or is he faking everything just so they can get out of here? She shouldn't care either way. Shouldn't? Doesn't.
His face looks different from this angle. Upside-down. His lips look fuller, his nose a bit more crooked. This close, even in the dark, she can see some red in his beard. Huh. She realizes she's staring. But so is he.
Her mouth opens and closes a few times even though she hadn't planned on saying anything when she came over here. Then again, she hadn't even planned on doing this. That is, if he agreed to it. She should probably ask as opposed to gawking at him. Her eyes flick to his hand resting on his chest. He notices. He arches an eyebrow for the briefest moment of curiosity but otherwise gives her that same neutrality Yelena did before. Waiting without anticipation or expectation. She gives him a single nod.
It's slow when he reaches up to her. Not scared. Trying not to scare her. Her heart is thundering in her chest. She is afraid. No. Excited, maybe? That's fucking stupid. He stops his hand inches from her face and waits and normally a person would be thankful for the patience they've been afforded but this is giving her time to doubt and it-
"Doesn't have to mean anything." Why the fuck did she say that? Of course it doesn't. They both know that. Is it because he's married- 'was' married, as if a single word carried the entire truth of the context behind it? Could've just been a matter of syntax. She just wants to reassure him that they can go back to not knowing each other after this. He won't have to worry about how a few simple acts of kindness might effect her when they go their separate ways. Shit. She's fucked it.
Her shadow covers his face - when had she leaned down this close? - and so she can't really see if the divot is there or not anymore.
"Right." It's barely louder than the breath that brushes her face. It smells like cactus berry. Her eyes are so dry from trying to watch and observe everything that they snap closed of their own volition. That's fine. If she can't see him, then it's not him doing it, right? She can imagine it's someone- anyone else.
Rough, blunt fingers touch her cheek. They're feather light and it's enough to knock the wind out of her in a shaky sigh. First, they drift up to her forehead and trace her hairline down to her cheekbone. Then, when she turns into their touch, they get more confident and press themselves fully against her skin. Gently. The warmth of his ring sends a shock through her system. Her eyelids flutter even as they remain closed.
Why can't she think of anyone else? Because she doesn't know anyone well enough to share a moment with them and experience this same level of pure empathy without it being impacted by every judgement or thought they have about each other. Maybe it's easier because he's a stranger and they're both just adrift in this universe, waiting for something that might not ever come. They all are.
When the palm shifts, she can feel the calluses tickle her skin. The fore and middle fingers have more than the ring and pinky. She feels like this might actually make her go mad. When the side of John's thumb almost touches the corner of her lips, the silence that had built up around them breaks.
On her left, she can hear Yelena smack her lips a few times before swallowing. She squirms until she's on her side again. The sudden noise takes Ava so off guard she only realizes he stops touching her the instant she pulls away. She blinks slowly and straightens her arms, creating some much needed distance between them.
John's face is still neutral. But this time, it is 'carefully'. There's a precaution. She wonders if he's disgusted with her need, or he pities her desperation. She hopes it's neither. She has no idea what expression her face is making right now and she'd rather not examine it. Despite herself, she quickly looks into his eyes, trying to glean what he's feeling before thinking better of it. She doesn't care. Forcing herself to nod once more, she crawls away. He doesn't say anything, but she can see his hand fall back to his chest in her peripheral. Like it never happened.
Ava lies down, the three of their heads pointed toward each other. Tucking her chin in, she curls into the fetal position. She thinks of equations and imagines up a game of solitaire in order to avoid thinking of anything else. This will be over soon. They just need to get home.
Later, when Bucky mentions John's wife leaving him, she doesn't think about it.