Pound of Flesh

Without even opening her eyes she knows that smell enough to recognize it as a hospital. So she doesn’t open her eyes. But that doesn’t make it any less real. “I know you’re awake now.”

Steve.

“I’m sorry.”

“For being awake? Or for keeping something from us that’s apparently pretty damn important?”

Natasha.

DJ gives up and makes her eyes crack open. Yep. The gang’s all here. “Both. And probably a few other things along the way.”

“How are you feeling?” Tony looks a little shaken, hands tinted a light pink. That’s her blood on his hands…

“Not dead. I’m still deciding whether that’s good or not.”

“Not funny.” And wow is Steve being a hard ass today. Not that he doesn’t have a valid reason, but maybe the bitch fest could start after she’s out of the hospital.

Bruce shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “I’d say it’s good. Better than choking on your own vomit or having vital organs shut down.”

“You can always count on Banner to bring the fun in,” Clint rolled his eyes and let his tension ebb away a fraction. Aww. He was worried.

Steve frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why everyone seems to think this is a laughing matter.”

“Be fair, Steven,” Thor spoke gravely as he clasped a giant hand on his shoulder. “We all experienced quite a scare- it is only right to have a brief moment of respite. Though perhaps answers are indeed in order.”

DJ’s gaze is suddenly glued to the scratchy hospital blanket like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I might have left one small little detail out of my timeline.”

“Which detail?” And there’s a subtle nuance of dread in Natasha’s tone that DJ’s fairly certain is only reserved for the people she cares about.

“The one where Reed Richards was fucking useless, so I went to somebody who would try a little bit harder to help me get rid of my powers.”

Steve looks sick to his stomach, and when he swallows thickly it appears to hurt. “Who?” As if everyone hadn’t figured it out.

“Victor von Doom.”

He turns away from her and begins to pace almost frantically, like he’s a hair’s breadth away from punching a hole in the wall. “And why, why would you think he’d help you? Tell me, because I really need to know.”

“Everyone has a price, right?” She feels ashamed just saying the words, and it doesn’t help when Steve grinds the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I was desperate, Steve. I had no other options. I barely had anything left to give!”

Steve whirls around to face her, jaw set and eyes hard. “There’s always another option.”

Natasha sits on the edge of the hospital bed, intervening in the conversation that was quickly getting out of hand. “What was the trade off?”

“All he wanted was a year of servitude. It didn’t sound so bad. I just had to be his little errand girl for twelve months and then he’d take this fucking curse away. And he wouldn’t hurt anybody I loved. That was the deal. But… The errands weren’t really what I bargained for.”

Pepper makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat, sitting down in a chair a little unsteadily. “And these errands involved your powers… And you… You…”

“I never hurt anybody.” DJ couldn’t even put any conviction behind her words. How could she even begin to expect them to believe her? “But I never stopped him from hurting them, either. I scared people and they talked, or they traded their own favors, or they ran screaming from their hideaways. I delivered them on a silver platter.”

Clint nodded a little too solemnly, even for him. “And you never fulfilled your obligation.”

“There are two months, one week, and four days left.”

“And that sick bastard’s just been biding his time,” Tony growled, picking at the flecks of red under his nails. “You fall into the lap of the Avengers and oh, what a perfect time for him to make a move. And he’s trying to draw you out. Draw out your secrets. Turn us against you, and you against us.”

Thor gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “I admit that upon first meeting you I was not in your favor, but I would not turn my back on you now so easily. We have all made mistakes, have we not?”

Tony had created weapons that were turned against his own people. Bruce had left a Hulk-sized dent in New York. Thor tried to start a bloody war with the Frost Giants. Clint and Natasha were mysteries, but largely self-explanatory. But no, that wasn’t everyone.

“Steve, I-“

“DJ!”

She bolts upright in bed, nearly jerking the IV out of her hand. “Mom?” Her eyes dart from the woman in the doorway to the man. “Dad?” And then the eager face peering over both their shoulders. “Dana?”

It’s almost funny how easy it is for a completely normal eighteen year old girl to push several superheroes out of the way to get to her sister. “Where have you been?”

“Uh, I… Around?” DJ winces as the younger girl throws herself on top of her in a crushing hug.
“How did you guys…?”

Her father- tall and slender and strikingly pale- strides forward with a brow raised. “I work here; I have friends that are going to tell me if my missing daughter comes in with a severe case of poisoning. And let me take this moment to say that this is not the preferred method for reuniting after a year.”

Oh yeah, this man was definitely her father.

Her mother- the spitting image of what DJ might look like in twenty years (and yes, Tony does a double take)- swoops into the room and her stormy countenance is stifling. “We thought you were dead. And I’m mad enough right now that that could be arranged.”

Really, this explains a lot about DJ.

“Yes, because running away from home like a bratty thirteen year old was always at the top of my list of things I’d really like to do, wasn’t it?” She rolls her eyes so hard that it has to hurt. “Clearly there was a reason, mother.”

“A reason? A reason? What could possibly be dire enough that-“

“It doesn’t matter,” her father cuts the older woman off. “She’s here now and she’s alright and she can come back home with us.”

DJ scowls and gently pushes her sister away from her. “No I can’t. Or, well, I could. But I won’t.”

“And why not?” Her mother barked. “And who are all these people? Only family is allowed back here.”

Dana cocks her head to the side, brow crinkling in consideration. “Is that Tony Stark? DJ why are you hanging out with- Oh God, is that Thor? Is my sister friends with a billionaire and a Norse god?”

“Yes,” DJ confirms stiffly. “And they’re why I’m not coming home. I’m an Avenger now.”

“Unofficially,” Steve adds.

“Are you Captain America?”

He smiles his perfect sparkly heart-melting smile. “Steve Rogers.”

“You’re so dreamy,” Dana sighs.

“Back off,” DJ glares.

And Clint helpfully supplies, “They’re dating.”

“Captain America could be my brother-in-law…”

“That’s moving a little fast, Miss.”

“Yes, please don’t encourage your sister’s poor life decisions.”

Bruce catches a chair before it goes sliding across the room. “Um, guys? I think we’re overwhelming her. Maybe we should let her rest.”

“I agree,” her father said, herding his wife and his youngest daughter towards the door. “But I expect some answers in the morning.”

“That makes two of us,” Steve muttered as the Avengers followed the family out.
_____________________________________________

The pencil in Steve’s hand floats skillfully over the pad of paper, filling in shadows around defined cheekbones. He uses the tip of his finger to lightly smudge, making the contrast more natural and elegant. Elegant like her.

“I love the look on your face when you draw.”

Steve jumps and looks over his shoulder at DJ. “What are you doing here?”

“Tony helped me escape the evil clutches of the hospital. The nighttime staff was full of bitches.”

“Your family will be mad.” He turns back to his drawing like it doesn’t matter to him either way if she’s there or not.

She shrugs and sits down next to him on the bed. “I left a note. Promised to call.” Her eyes slide down to the paper. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes. She was. And a hell of a dame.”

“It’s a perfect likeness, too,” she compliments softly. “I’ve seen your compass. The newspaper clippings. All those faded old photographs.”

“Thank you.”

DJ slides the pad out of Steve’s hands and sets it aside, trying for his attention. “When you told me you loved me, did you mean it?”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” The way he says it is almost angry, but mostly just weighed with exhaustion.

“But do you love me like you loved her?”

Steve stands and crosses to the window, just so he has something to look at that isn’t her. “That’s a ridiculous question.”

“And that isn’t an answer.” Which is telling in of itself.

“I don’t know how I love her.” Steve grounds out in frustration, and DJ doesn’t fail to take note of the present tense. “Why?”

She breathes out a tiny little laugh, but it falls flat and sad. “Because I’ve always felt like I’m just a placeholder for someone who’s never coming back.”

“That’s not fair,” he starts, but he must realize his argument is pretty weak because he quickly changes tactics. “We both have pasts that haunt us.”

“Well yeah, but there’s kind of a difference, Steve!” DJ doesn’t want to start yelling, but she can’t help it. If she doesn’t get mad she’ll just start crying, and that won’t get her anywhere. “I’m trying so fucking hard to run away from mine, and you’re hurtling desperately towards yours like a bird flying full force into a window! I’m… I’m right here. Why can’t I be enough for you?”

All the doors and windows in the room jerk open violently. Everything in the room vibrates with a low hum as Steve drags himself back over to DJ and drops to his knees at her feet. The first tear rolls down her pale cheek as furniture, and clothes, and books, and knickknacks start to thrash and twirl around them like they’re caught in the eye of a tornado. He rests his head on her lap as his powerful arms come up to wrap desperately around her waist and his voice is rough, and low, and defeated. “This has to stop, Daisy.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been trying to do?” She bites out bitterly. “Doom’s crazy machine? That useless training with Xavier? The booze, the pills, the meditation? You think that was all for fun?”

“Not this,” he waves his hands at the mess of their bedroom. “The lying. It’s the lying I can’t take.”

She pushes him away and he can see a thin trail of ruby trickling from her nose. “The… The lying? I just can’t win, can I? No. Of course not. Because you’re Captain America and I could never be good enough for someone like you.”

Steve notes with alarm that she’s starting to look translucent. Starting to dissolve.

“I give up everything to make this sickness go away, but it won’t ever make me a good person. Because it will always be inside of me, and I will always remember just how easily I can hurt people. And yes, Steve, even you. They can’t trust me, you can’t trust me, and I don’t even trust myself anymore. You should’ve left me there last night! You should’ve killed me when you had the chance!”

The whirlwind crashes to the ground as Steve tackles DJ back onto the bed. She solidifies and claws at his shoulders, speaking around a pool of blood. “I love you! What more do you want from me? I can’t be better. I can’t change. I’ve tried!”

“Maybe you should stop loving me.” The words seem to echo in the sudden silence. They stab sharp and hot into DJ’s chest.

“I don’t know how,” she whispers. “And even if I could I wouldn’t want to.”

Steve rolls off of her and stares blankly at the ceiling. “You should go home. To your family.”

“Just because you don’t want me anymore doesn’t mean everyone else feels the same.” Her gut twists and her heartbreaks and it’s all she can do to keep herself together- literally- and not explode into a million little particles and float away.

“You haven’t even been in a field situation yet and you’ve been a danger to yourself and others, and…“ His eyes flick over to look at her and the words die on his lips.

“I get it. I’m unstable and unreliable. It’s clear you don’t think I’m cut out for this. I’m no hero.”

Steve reaches out unsteadily, ghosting over her golden curls. “Your hair…” His fingers come back shiny, and slick, and sickly red. Her ears dribble lines of blood identical to her nose. “You shouldn’t have left the hospital.”

“It has nothing to do with the poison,” DJ snaps, batting his hand away. She stumbles clumsily to her feet, rubbing her throbbing temples. “My brain can’t handle the exertion. My powers fry me out.”

“This only proves my point.” His voice is steely and firm and all Captain America and no beautiful sweet Steve. “And if you won’t go back to the hospital at least go see Bruce.”

“Fuck you.” She stops at the doorway but keeps her back to him. “We bring Doom down and I’ll leave. You should probably try to keep your distance until then. I don’t want to lose control like that again. If I hurt you, it would be something I never recovered from.”

DJ waits for a response. She could have anticipated what he’d say in the past. Something so stupidly sure like you’d never hurt me. Or something sweet and solid like I trust you more than that. Now all that’s left is painful spaces filled with silence.
_____________________________________________

“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce scolded as he wiped at her face with a cool cloth. “You’ve completely blacked out, nearly died from intravenous poison, and bled from several orifices in an alarmingly short span of time. The more you wear yourself out the worse your control will get, and the more you’ll burn out.”

“The first time was a necessity,” DJ defended sourly. “The poison wasn’t my fault, and this last time was an accident. I would think that you of all people could understand that.”

Bruce sighs and drops the cloth into the bowl of now pink water. “Of course I understand, but even with the help of your father you’re not healing like you should. This bleeding won’t stop and you’ve been sluggish for weeks. I don’t want you to keep this up and get brain damage. Or worse.”

“I appreciate the concern Bruce, but you know that I can’t just stop.”

“You could, but you won’t.” He gives her a sad smile. His smiles are always kind of sad. “I wouldn’t either. That doesn’t make it any less self-destructive.”

DJ wipes at her mouth, trying to get rid of the coppery taste. “I made a choice when I was scared; it’s only fair if I’m the one to pay the price.”

“Not if the price is your life.”

She hates the way he talks sometimes. So calm and matter-of-fact. Like he’s always in the know and there’s always a safe, sane solution. But there’s not. Not this time.

“Especially if it’s my life.”