http://mardahin.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
mardahin.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cap_ironman2008-08-07 12:55 pm
mardahin.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2008-08-07 12:55 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: All That Remains (2/?) (PG-13)
Title: All That Remains (2/?)
Previous Parts: Part 1
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kijikun & miriel
Rating: PG-13, NC-17 Overall
Pairing/Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (Past & Eventual)
Warnings: Spoilers through "Fallen Son"
Author's Note: We're really cruising, at the moment, which is kind of fun and kind of terrifying. As a result, here's part two, a bit earlier than expected.
Summary: Given that one of his perpetual fears since Stark had taken over SHIELD was that the man would commit suicide-by-supervillain, Dum-Dum couldn't decide if the new development was a positive one or not.
"I'm going to have to leave once we get to the penthouse," Tony told the silent child beside him. He spared her a glance, and was glad he'd decided to drive himself. Not just because it never felt right that it wasn't Happy behind the wheel, but because it gave him something to focus on other than the awkward silence.
The girl, F-12, didn't respond, her gaze never wavering as she stared straight ahead out the windshield. As he tried to figure out how to go about pulling the girl into something resembling conversation, an attempt he was rather sure would land him a score of oh-for-three, he used Extremis to access the communicator in his armor in order to address an unrelated issue that was just as pressing.
*Carol, I need you to head out to Seattle and assist with the ongoing investigation. It's probably an empty threat, but a show of support for the local authorities could keep anything else from crawling out of the woodwork.*
*I thought you were heading that investigation.* Thankfully, Carol sounded more amused than annoyed at the change in plans.
*I was, but something's come up that requires a... personal touch. And aren't you the one who keeps telling me that I can't do everything myself?*
He could hear the laughter in her voice. *Doesn't mean you'll stop trying.* She muttered something under her breath, which, knowing Carol, was probably both uncomplimentary and true, and logged off. She'd never been afraid to pull her punches around him, and it was something he appreciated. One item down, forty-seven to go. He sighed, returning his attention more fully to the still-quiet child sitting next to him. He'd never seen a child go this long without fidgeting, although he'd admit that his experience with children was limited.
"Even though I'll be gone, you won't be alone. Jarvis will look after you, he's my butler. Anything you need, you just ask Jarvis. He'll make sure you get it. All right?" He kept his tone light, kept his attention firmly fixed on the conversation at hand as he tried to ignore the electronic signature that buzzed at him from the base of her skull. He could respect the principle of having a failsafe device when dealing with experimental research, but the fact that this failsafe device was mounted on a living, breathing, human child made it a lot harder to swallow.
That had been the one pleasant surprise when the results of the medical exam had come in - she was 100% human. No sign of mutations, major genetic alteration, or naturally manifesting special abilities, just plain old human. Although that doctor had also believed that Steve was just naturally athletic, so it was possible she'd sprout wings when she hit puberty, but he'd deal with that if and when the time came. He had too much on his plate to borrow trouble, even if it was an entertaining pass-time.
Tony saw her turn her head out of the corner of his eye. Her hair curled slightly under her chin, bobbing with the movement of her head. Her acknowledgment was a simple "Yes, sir."
He wanted to grit his teeth at the dullness of the tone, but at least she responded when asked a direct question. It was a start. "Is there anything else we can call you other than F-12? Maybe someone gave you a nick-name?"
"No, sir, Mr. Stark." She sounded confused. "F-12 is my only designation."
He'd have to change that, but his mind was drawing a blank when it came to suitable names. He was already ignoring two different irate callers who didn't seem to understand that his secretary handled the rescheduling of business meetings, and just because they called four times didn't mean he'd pick up. For a moment, he forgot that it wasn't Pepper handling his schedule, and wondered why she hadn't already dealt with the troublesome executives. Then he remembered that he'd told her to take all the time she needed, and made sure that she understood that meant at least a month.
She'd be back eventually, or she would if she could bring herself to look at him after what he'd done for Happy. He wouldn't hold it against her if she resigned and never came back, but that didn't mean he wouldn't miss her.
His building loomed ahead, and Tony suddenly thought about the Avengers' Mansion -- of how many people would have been there waiting for the girl with varying degrees of open arms. He very carefully didn't think about Steve.
* * *
Dum-Dum Dugan read over the report that had just arrived from one of the agents in New York. Director Stark had been seen leaving a meeting with Carl Jamison, a known associate of Senator Rutgers, with a blonde child somewhere between eight and ten. The same child had been seen with Jamison several times over the course of the last week, one of the sightings occurring at the office of a physician known to do private consulting work for both Stark Industries and the Avengers.
Idle speculation aside, Dugan was rather curious as to what exactly was going on, and just how much - if anything - Stark would feel the need to share. Given that one of his perpetual fears since Stark had taken over SHIELD was that the man would commit suicide-by-supervillain, Dum-Dum couldn't decide if the new development was a positive one or not.
In the meantime, he'd keep the investigation open, hard-copy only, and highly classified. He was going to want as much ammunition as he could get if he had to confront Stark.
* * *
F-12 looked around the penthouse, wondering just what she was supposed to do with Mr. Stark gone. He had departed soon after they'd arrived, leaving her with a man called Jarvis. A "butler", which she assumed to be some manner of subordinate.
Granted, she hadn't been sure what she was supposed to do when Mr. Stark had been there, but at least he was her new CO; that's what she'd been told. Mr. Stark had left no instructions for her, besides that she should "relax" and "make herself at home." Maybe this was a test?
She hadn't seen the others in -- a long time. She'd lost track of the days without her normal routine. There was no emotional impact of the loss - to show emotion was to invite punishment, and she didn't want to be sent to the room - but there was a sense of their absence all the same. She wondered where they'd gone. Another mission, maybe? Or had they all failed some test she wasn't aware of?
F-12 had been on missions before. Small ones, minor compared to the tactics they learned about in the classrooms, but important for the safety of The Greater Good. That's what she'd been told. Usually, she just had to observe a specific target and report on their actions, or hold another agent's hand and call them 'mommy' or 'daddy'. D-7 had been on a lot more missions, but then, D-7 was much taller than she was, too.
Her memory recall was interrupted by Mr. Stark's subordinate. "Would you like some lunch?"
She blinked, calculating the time since her last food intake. "Yes --" she paused. "Permission to speak out of turn?"
"Go right ahead, young lady."
"How am I to address you?" she asked.
He smiled, at least that's what she thought it was called; the expression itself was outside the realm of her experience. She remembered cue cards, instruction on the reading of body language and lips, but this didn't fit those parameters. Taking a calculated risk, she decided that it was indicative of a positive mood. It was similar to the expression her instructors had demonstrated when she'd been the first one to complete a task, but something about the muscle usage was incorrect. She resolved to study the man's expressions carefully, and wondered if he was part of her test.
"You can call me Jarvis. But now, what shall we call you?"
She blinked. "My designation is F-12."
"Wouldn't you like a real name?" Jarvis asked her.
She blinked again in confusion, and then bit the inside of her cheek at the tell. Tells led to punishment if they happened too often. "A real name?" A designation was a name, the meanings similar enough to be interchangeable. Was there something wrong with her designation?
Jarvis repeated the odd quirking of his lips. "We'll think about it over lunch, then, shall we? Now, do you like roast beef sandwiches?"
"Sandwiches are acceptable."
* * *
It was later than Tony had planned. Much later, although that seemed to be the only way his life ran, nowadays. Always just a little too late, especially when it mattered. Too late to explain his decisions to Steve, too late to stop the bloodshed of the civil war. This time, at least, it had only been too late to dinner. It was the girl's first night in the penthouse, and Tony felt bad about sticking Jarvis with her for that long without a break. The butler had already raised one child on behalf of the Stark family; he didn't really need to raise another.
Unfortunately, after the meeting with his lawyer, there had been a client who was demanding that a design be revised today or he was canceling Stark Industries' contract. Even though Tony thought there'd been nothing wrong with the original design, which had included three separate patents, he also couldn't risk blowing off a contract over so minor a detail. And then there had been SHIELD business, and Carol reporting in about the situation in Seattle, and everything that needed doing could only be done by him. He rubbed a hand over his face as he stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse, shooting Jarvis an apologetic look as he dropped into the first seat he came across. "How was she?"
He tried not to think about the dozen things he still had to do before he called it a night. That was what coffee was for.
"Rather well, sir, all things considered. Some of her behavior is a bit -- odd -- but hopefully that will settle as she gets used to living in a new place. Overall, Maria is a very well behaved child," Jarvis told him. "Unlike someone else I could mention at that age."
Tony smiled for a moment, not even bothering to feign outrage. "I wasn't that bad, was I? Wait, Maria?" He stared at Jarvis in shock. "You named her Maria like-" The last person he wanted to associate with the kid was Maria Hill, especially given the former SHIELD director's views on meta-humans in general (and superheroes in particular).
"Yes, Maria. After your mother," Jarvis cut in. "You did tell me that if I came up with something suitable I should feel free to begin using it, Sir. She seemed to like the name, and I believe it suits her."
Tony's shoulders slumped as Jarvis' words sunk in. Maria, after his mother. He tried the name again in his mind - Maria. He could live with that, if he had to. There were certainly more painful options. He tried to think what his mother would think of them naming this child after her, tried to remember if his mother had ever expressed views on grandchildren. Not that F-12 was his child, per se, but it was the closest analogy he could think of. After a moment's thought, he decided that she hadn't, but he thought that she would have approved of taking the girl in. Maria Stark had been known for her kind heart. "Is the girl, is Maria still awake?"
"I believe she's finally fallen asleep. Might I suggest that you arrange your schedule so as to be here in the late evenings? She shouldn't require any care, but she's young enough that someone should be on hand in case something unexpected arises. She's far too young to be left alone, and I, sadly, am not as young as I used to be."
"Right, of course." Tony nodded as if he'd known that it would work out that way all along. "I'm going to stick my head in and check on her."
Jarvis smiled and nodded. Tony was pathetically grateful that the idea of sending her to Xavier's hadn't been raised again. After the kind of day he'd had, Tony might just have agreed to it, and he knew he'd never forgive himself in the morning. One could almost say that he specialized in doing things late at night that he came to regret the next morning.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, the headache that been forming all day coming on full blast. It was going to be nearly impossible to arrange his schedule so that he had 8 hours off a night, never mind 8 hours in one place. Too many crises popped up in too many parts of the world; even he couldn't be everywhere at once. But then, he was coming to specialize in "nearly impossible", too, so he supposed that it would work itself out somehow.
The door to Stev-- Maria's room was half-open. Tony peered inside at the small form curled up on the bed. He stepped inside, pulling the door open a bit wider so that the light fell across the bed giving him a better view. Maria shifted in her sleep, but didn't seem to wake up.
Her back was pressed against the wall, and she'd clutched the sheets and blankets tightly around her. Tony frowned, wondering how she could sleep wrapped in all of those blankets. Even with the Tower's air conditioning going full blast, she had to be hot under there.
But he was there for a reason, and it wasn't to worry about whether or not she had a propensity for sleeping in a cocoon. Technically, he didn't need to be in close proximity to do this, but it would help with his concentration, given the headache he was currently fighting. Leaning over, Tony very gently settled his hand on the back of Maria's neck, near the base of her skull.
It didn't take long to reprogram the chip, to convince it that all external signals were nothing more than background noise. He'd analyzed it while he'd been driving her to the penthouse, and the programming was almost elegantly simple. Now, the most immediate threat to her future was effectively neutralized.
Maria stirred as he withdrew, blue eyes blinking open. He caught a glimpse of panic in their depths before she blinked it away, and he wondered how often she'd woken to find strangers at her bedside. "Shhh, go back to sleep Maria."
Her voice was sleepy, even if her eyes were now alert. "Not time for training?"
"No," Tony assured her quietly, trying to sooth her through the adrenaline rush he knew accompanied unexpected waking. He gently brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, murmuring quietly as he did so, and was inordinately relieved when she seemed to relax. "Go back to sleep, kiddo." He knew she'd been raised in an institutional setting, but the thought that she was that comfortable finding strangers at her bedside was disturbing on more levels than he cared to think about. Trying to shake the unpleasant thoughts from his head, he gave her a final pat on the head and slipped from the room.
Later, he'd kick himself for not waiting until she'd fallen back to sleep, but at the moment, all he wanted to do was lose himself in something logical, something mechanical. The response time for the left repulsor had been a bit sluggish lately; it was probably due for a good cleaning. That would relax him enough to sleep, or at least to be able to zone out over some paperwork. He wasn't hiding in his lab, he was just...busy.
~ Part 3 ~
Previous Parts: Part 1
Authors:
kijikun & mirielRating: PG-13, NC-17 Overall
Pairing/Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (Past & Eventual)
Warnings: Spoilers through "Fallen Son"
Author's Note: We're really cruising, at the moment, which is kind of fun and kind of terrifying. As a result, here's part two, a bit earlier than expected.
Summary: Given that one of his perpetual fears since Stark had taken over SHIELD was that the man would commit suicide-by-supervillain, Dum-Dum couldn't decide if the new development was a positive one or not.
"I'm going to have to leave once we get to the penthouse," Tony told the silent child beside him. He spared her a glance, and was glad he'd decided to drive himself. Not just because it never felt right that it wasn't Happy behind the wheel, but because it gave him something to focus on other than the awkward silence.
The girl, F-12, didn't respond, her gaze never wavering as she stared straight ahead out the windshield. As he tried to figure out how to go about pulling the girl into something resembling conversation, an attempt he was rather sure would land him a score of oh-for-three, he used Extremis to access the communicator in his armor in order to address an unrelated issue that was just as pressing.
*Carol, I need you to head out to Seattle and assist with the ongoing investigation. It's probably an empty threat, but a show of support for the local authorities could keep anything else from crawling out of the woodwork.*
*I thought you were heading that investigation.* Thankfully, Carol sounded more amused than annoyed at the change in plans.
*I was, but something's come up that requires a... personal touch. And aren't you the one who keeps telling me that I can't do everything myself?*
He could hear the laughter in her voice. *Doesn't mean you'll stop trying.* She muttered something under her breath, which, knowing Carol, was probably both uncomplimentary and true, and logged off. She'd never been afraid to pull her punches around him, and it was something he appreciated. One item down, forty-seven to go. He sighed, returning his attention more fully to the still-quiet child sitting next to him. He'd never seen a child go this long without fidgeting, although he'd admit that his experience with children was limited.
"Even though I'll be gone, you won't be alone. Jarvis will look after you, he's my butler. Anything you need, you just ask Jarvis. He'll make sure you get it. All right?" He kept his tone light, kept his attention firmly fixed on the conversation at hand as he tried to ignore the electronic signature that buzzed at him from the base of her skull. He could respect the principle of having a failsafe device when dealing with experimental research, but the fact that this failsafe device was mounted on a living, breathing, human child made it a lot harder to swallow.
That had been the one pleasant surprise when the results of the medical exam had come in - she was 100% human. No sign of mutations, major genetic alteration, or naturally manifesting special abilities, just plain old human. Although that doctor had also believed that Steve was just naturally athletic, so it was possible she'd sprout wings when she hit puberty, but he'd deal with that if and when the time came. He had too much on his plate to borrow trouble, even if it was an entertaining pass-time.
Tony saw her turn her head out of the corner of his eye. Her hair curled slightly under her chin, bobbing with the movement of her head. Her acknowledgment was a simple "Yes, sir."
He wanted to grit his teeth at the dullness of the tone, but at least she responded when asked a direct question. It was a start. "Is there anything else we can call you other than F-12? Maybe someone gave you a nick-name?"
"No, sir, Mr. Stark." She sounded confused. "F-12 is my only designation."
He'd have to change that, but his mind was drawing a blank when it came to suitable names. He was already ignoring two different irate callers who didn't seem to understand that his secretary handled the rescheduling of business meetings, and just because they called four times didn't mean he'd pick up. For a moment, he forgot that it wasn't Pepper handling his schedule, and wondered why she hadn't already dealt with the troublesome executives. Then he remembered that he'd told her to take all the time she needed, and made sure that she understood that meant at least a month.
She'd be back eventually, or she would if she could bring herself to look at him after what he'd done for Happy. He wouldn't hold it against her if she resigned and never came back, but that didn't mean he wouldn't miss her.
His building loomed ahead, and Tony suddenly thought about the Avengers' Mansion -- of how many people would have been there waiting for the girl with varying degrees of open arms. He very carefully didn't think about Steve.
Dum-Dum Dugan read over the report that had just arrived from one of the agents in New York. Director Stark had been seen leaving a meeting with Carl Jamison, a known associate of Senator Rutgers, with a blonde child somewhere between eight and ten. The same child had been seen with Jamison several times over the course of the last week, one of the sightings occurring at the office of a physician known to do private consulting work for both Stark Industries and the Avengers.
Idle speculation aside, Dugan was rather curious as to what exactly was going on, and just how much - if anything - Stark would feel the need to share. Given that one of his perpetual fears since Stark had taken over SHIELD was that the man would commit suicide-by-supervillain, Dum-Dum couldn't decide if the new development was a positive one or not.
In the meantime, he'd keep the investigation open, hard-copy only, and highly classified. He was going to want as much ammunition as he could get if he had to confront Stark.
F-12 looked around the penthouse, wondering just what she was supposed to do with Mr. Stark gone. He had departed soon after they'd arrived, leaving her with a man called Jarvis. A "butler", which she assumed to be some manner of subordinate.
Granted, she hadn't been sure what she was supposed to do when Mr. Stark had been there, but at least he was her new CO; that's what she'd been told. Mr. Stark had left no instructions for her, besides that she should "relax" and "make herself at home." Maybe this was a test?
She hadn't seen the others in -- a long time. She'd lost track of the days without her normal routine. There was no emotional impact of the loss - to show emotion was to invite punishment, and she didn't want to be sent to the room - but there was a sense of their absence all the same. She wondered where they'd gone. Another mission, maybe? Or had they all failed some test she wasn't aware of?
F-12 had been on missions before. Small ones, minor compared to the tactics they learned about in the classrooms, but important for the safety of The Greater Good. That's what she'd been told. Usually, she just had to observe a specific target and report on their actions, or hold another agent's hand and call them 'mommy' or 'daddy'. D-7 had been on a lot more missions, but then, D-7 was much taller than she was, too.
Her memory recall was interrupted by Mr. Stark's subordinate. "Would you like some lunch?"
She blinked, calculating the time since her last food intake. "Yes --" she paused. "Permission to speak out of turn?"
"Go right ahead, young lady."
"How am I to address you?" she asked.
He smiled, at least that's what she thought it was called; the expression itself was outside the realm of her experience. She remembered cue cards, instruction on the reading of body language and lips, but this didn't fit those parameters. Taking a calculated risk, she decided that it was indicative of a positive mood. It was similar to the expression her instructors had demonstrated when she'd been the first one to complete a task, but something about the muscle usage was incorrect. She resolved to study the man's expressions carefully, and wondered if he was part of her test.
"You can call me Jarvis. But now, what shall we call you?"
She blinked. "My designation is F-12."
"Wouldn't you like a real name?" Jarvis asked her.
She blinked again in confusion, and then bit the inside of her cheek at the tell. Tells led to punishment if they happened too often. "A real name?" A designation was a name, the meanings similar enough to be interchangeable. Was there something wrong with her designation?
Jarvis repeated the odd quirking of his lips. "We'll think about it over lunch, then, shall we? Now, do you like roast beef sandwiches?"
"Sandwiches are acceptable."
It was later than Tony had planned. Much later, although that seemed to be the only way his life ran, nowadays. Always just a little too late, especially when it mattered. Too late to explain his decisions to Steve, too late to stop the bloodshed of the civil war. This time, at least, it had only been too late to dinner. It was the girl's first night in the penthouse, and Tony felt bad about sticking Jarvis with her for that long without a break. The butler had already raised one child on behalf of the Stark family; he didn't really need to raise another.
Unfortunately, after the meeting with his lawyer, there had been a client who was demanding that a design be revised today or he was canceling Stark Industries' contract. Even though Tony thought there'd been nothing wrong with the original design, which had included three separate patents, he also couldn't risk blowing off a contract over so minor a detail. And then there had been SHIELD business, and Carol reporting in about the situation in Seattle, and everything that needed doing could only be done by him. He rubbed a hand over his face as he stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse, shooting Jarvis an apologetic look as he dropped into the first seat he came across. "How was she?"
He tried not to think about the dozen things he still had to do before he called it a night. That was what coffee was for.
"Rather well, sir, all things considered. Some of her behavior is a bit -- odd -- but hopefully that will settle as she gets used to living in a new place. Overall, Maria is a very well behaved child," Jarvis told him. "Unlike someone else I could mention at that age."
Tony smiled for a moment, not even bothering to feign outrage. "I wasn't that bad, was I? Wait, Maria?" He stared at Jarvis in shock. "You named her Maria like-" The last person he wanted to associate with the kid was Maria Hill, especially given the former SHIELD director's views on meta-humans in general (and superheroes in particular).
"Yes, Maria. After your mother," Jarvis cut in. "You did tell me that if I came up with something suitable I should feel free to begin using it, Sir. She seemed to like the name, and I believe it suits her."
Tony's shoulders slumped as Jarvis' words sunk in. Maria, after his mother. He tried the name again in his mind - Maria. He could live with that, if he had to. There were certainly more painful options. He tried to think what his mother would think of them naming this child after her, tried to remember if his mother had ever expressed views on grandchildren. Not that F-12 was his child, per se, but it was the closest analogy he could think of. After a moment's thought, he decided that she hadn't, but he thought that she would have approved of taking the girl in. Maria Stark had been known for her kind heart. "Is the girl, is Maria still awake?"
"I believe she's finally fallen asleep. Might I suggest that you arrange your schedule so as to be here in the late evenings? She shouldn't require any care, but she's young enough that someone should be on hand in case something unexpected arises. She's far too young to be left alone, and I, sadly, am not as young as I used to be."
"Right, of course." Tony nodded as if he'd known that it would work out that way all along. "I'm going to stick my head in and check on her."
Jarvis smiled and nodded. Tony was pathetically grateful that the idea of sending her to Xavier's hadn't been raised again. After the kind of day he'd had, Tony might just have agreed to it, and he knew he'd never forgive himself in the morning. One could almost say that he specialized in doing things late at night that he came to regret the next morning.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, the headache that been forming all day coming on full blast. It was going to be nearly impossible to arrange his schedule so that he had 8 hours off a night, never mind 8 hours in one place. Too many crises popped up in too many parts of the world; even he couldn't be everywhere at once. But then, he was coming to specialize in "nearly impossible", too, so he supposed that it would work itself out somehow.
The door to Stev-- Maria's room was half-open. Tony peered inside at the small form curled up on the bed. He stepped inside, pulling the door open a bit wider so that the light fell across the bed giving him a better view. Maria shifted in her sleep, but didn't seem to wake up.
Her back was pressed against the wall, and she'd clutched the sheets and blankets tightly around her. Tony frowned, wondering how she could sleep wrapped in all of those blankets. Even with the Tower's air conditioning going full blast, she had to be hot under there.
But he was there for a reason, and it wasn't to worry about whether or not she had a propensity for sleeping in a cocoon. Technically, he didn't need to be in close proximity to do this, but it would help with his concentration, given the headache he was currently fighting. Leaning over, Tony very gently settled his hand on the back of Maria's neck, near the base of her skull.
It didn't take long to reprogram the chip, to convince it that all external signals were nothing more than background noise. He'd analyzed it while he'd been driving her to the penthouse, and the programming was almost elegantly simple. Now, the most immediate threat to her future was effectively neutralized.
Maria stirred as he withdrew, blue eyes blinking open. He caught a glimpse of panic in their depths before she blinked it away, and he wondered how often she'd woken to find strangers at her bedside. "Shhh, go back to sleep Maria."
Her voice was sleepy, even if her eyes were now alert. "Not time for training?"
"No," Tony assured her quietly, trying to sooth her through the adrenaline rush he knew accompanied unexpected waking. He gently brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, murmuring quietly as he did so, and was inordinately relieved when she seemed to relax. "Go back to sleep, kiddo." He knew she'd been raised in an institutional setting, but the thought that she was that comfortable finding strangers at her bedside was disturbing on more levels than he cared to think about. Trying to shake the unpleasant thoughts from his head, he gave her a final pat on the head and slipped from the room.
Later, he'd kick himself for not waiting until she'd fallen back to sleep, but at the moment, all he wanted to do was lose himself in something logical, something mechanical. The response time for the left repulsor had been a bit sluggish lately; it was probably due for a good cleaning. That would relax him enough to sleep, or at least to be able to zone out over some paperwork. He wasn't hiding in his lab, he was just...busy.
no subject
no subject
Glad you're liking it! (And I adore the icon)
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I think it's also safe to say that the others she remembers aren't as fortunate.
no subject
no subject
One of the things we're really trying to do with it is to *show* some of the basic ways that such a heavily institutionalized background impacts Maria, how far from the norm her perceptions of normal are - both in behaviours and in interactions. She's a child, and they are a resilient bunch, but that doesn't mean she'll wake up in a week and be fine and acclimated to her new life. There are at least a few breakdowns on the horizon, and that's before Steve shows up (and yes, I have a completely logical and rational explanation that does *not* involve the Skrulls).
*Hugs* I would, if you're willing, be interested in hearing if you've got any suggestions for handling Maria - given your professional background, I'm sure you'd have some behavioural insights that could be incredibly useful - but again, if you're not comfortable or if it's a topic you'd rather shy away from discussing, I completely understand.
no subject
no subject
no subject
In an attempt to ground Maria and make her a real and believable character, we *are* going to be addressing some unpleasant elements that can result from a child growing up so heavily "programmed". She's got some difficult acclimation ahead of her, and it's not all going to simply be "all better", although a lot of it comes from having an incredibly rigid and proscribed world-view that suddenly doesn't fit the world she now lives in.
no subject
no subject
I'm really hoping this goes well, because I think it could be an interesting ride.
no subject
no subject
No one really remembers the time in the nursery, although they retain subconscious memories, because by the time they're 8 or 9, the complex is all they remember. They don't socialize amongst themselves because there's no way to distinguish each other. The batches are distinctive, in that they're in 6 month increments - development is visibly different - but the children don't have names, don't have anything visible which identifies them, aside from a small brand with their designation - one which is not casually visible in their standard uniform. They're addressed by the color of their uniforms, which change daily. It's as much to prevent the people who handle them from seeing them as human beings as it is to segregate and isolate the the children, but it has that effect anyway. They're all clones from the same source material, and thus physically identical, created in the hopes that one or two survives training and makes it to adulthood and full usefulness.
Does that work? If not, feel free to point out issues. A lot of her basic understanding of how the world works (and her approach to things) stems from the fact that we know what boot camp does to 18 year olds - she got almost the exact same treatment, minus some of the degradation b/c there *was* no sense of independence to break down, except at the age of 4 or 5.
no subject
no subject
Granted, she's blocking a bunch of her memories from the complex, ATM, due to traumatic memory repression. She knows what happened to the others, she just doesn't realize that she knows. And we know she's had one at least pseudo-normative relationship, at least in her mind, but that'll come up later (and it is, sadly, almost all in her mind).
no subject
So what happened with the rest of the children, and why did they give Tony this one? I was thinking initially that the guy managed to get this one free because she was genetically related to Steve, but if they're all the same, then why this *one*?
no subject
As I think I've mentioned before, Maria knows where the other children are, she just doesn't realize it. Giving her to Tony was killing two birds with one stone.
no subject
Makes sense.
re: F12
re: Maria
I'm remembering now, most unpleasantly, of the blond blue eyed children snatched from their parents of various European backgrounds by the Nazi to be raised by Nazi sympathizers. That, and that dictator bastard in Romania who banned birth control, encourage people to have a lot of kids to hang them over to the state, where when they were finally found by the Outside World, were traumatized and zombie like and famished and infected with HIV.