‹ Prequel: Glass Heart
Sequel: Across the Universe

Hollow Scars

Stubborn Nature

Creak.

Scarlett’s senses were muddled but she could still hear faint noises in the distance, slowly growing louder as they neared. Shaking her head in tiny motions in hopes of rousing from the fog in her mind, she struggled against the infinite blackness for sight but failed. Maybe it was best to continue resting instead of fighting it.

When had she fallen asleep anyway? Hadn’t she been running away from the quarantine zone with Tony? Had she passed out somewhere along the line or did she not remember falling asleep after escaping to safety? The former was more likely even if she couldn’t recall the details. It didn’t matter at the moment; Scarlett couldn’t fight the urge to rest and gave back into the unconsciousness threatening her.

Pitter-patter.

Squeak.

Scratch.

SLAM.

Scarlett’s eyes snapped open immediately in response to the threatening sound. Instinctively she reached for the gun that she usually kept on the night stand next to her in hotel rooms only to find she couldn’t move her arms much at all to search for it. Heart suddenly in her throat, Scarlett held her breath to listen for what had made the sound but heard no further scratches or slams. What she did hear was nearly as unsettling.

The drip-drip-dripping nearby set her nerves on fire. Each splash against cold metal made her twitch uncomfortably. It was a form of torture that she recognized all too well. Sometimes the dripping freezing cold water had be on her forehead, sometimes on her stomach and sometimes off in the distance at the other end of the room where she would be unable to do anything about it.

“Not again,” her voice was feeble and cracked, her throat dry and aching in ways that she could only recall in the furthest reaches of her memory. Coughing in hopes of finding relief, Scarlett knew she’d find none. Nothing she had ever done while in captivity had helped relieve the misery she suffered through. Feet aching and bleeding from the wounds she repeatedly opened each time she bent them or tried to take a step, Scarlett stood up straight to take some of the weight off of her shoulders. Only her toes would barely touch the ground, but it would be enough to keep her shoulders from dislocating.

In the center of the room she hung from shackles attached to the ceiling, arms extended about two feet apart from each other. She’d attempted escape various times before that point and the luxury of resting on the terrible cot she’d been given had been revoked. While she had once loathed it, she missed it. The cot seemed like a luxury now that she was trapped hanging from the center of the room waiting until someone would come in and either take her somewhere else to torture her or come in the room with some archaic whip to beat her with.

Torture was definitely topping the list of Scarlett’s worst memories and she had hoped beyond hope that it would never be repeated, even in her mind. After having gone for so long without giving the incident in Afghanistan a second thought, she had hoped that it was something she was too strong to suffer further consequences from.

Unfortunately she’d been wrong.

Far more wrong than she could have ever anticipated. How devious her thoughts were to betray her at such a crucial time of her life. The traumatic side effects of captivity and torture couldn’t have waited just a little longer and come at a more opportune time? For example, a time when she wasn’t in pursuit of an underhanded, seedy corporation run by two sick sons of bitches out to kill her and leave her with a legacy of nothing but death and mayhem.

“It’s not real,” whispering once again the mantra that never seemed to offer any relief Scarlett hung her head down and closed her eyes again. Her vision had been spotty and her head was swimming too badly to see much of anything. The warm trickle of something down the back of her neck reminded her of the blow to the head that had caused her to black out repeatedly for days on end. It had been both a blessing and a curse. Escape attempts were easily thwarted when she couldn’t remain conscious or randomly became sick to her stomach in the hallway. On the other hand, she didn’t mind passing out when someone came to whip her repeatedly or shock her with low currents of electricity in hopes of damaging her nerves and getting her to talk.

Scarlett was armed with the fact that she knew she was dreaming, so at least she had hope to cling to. Usually her subconscious would do something drastic to try and convince her otherwise, but no surprises came at her at least not for the time being.

“No Tony around this time.” Her words were slurred so she cleared her throat only to find it filled with blood and phlegm. Gagging at the mental image of what was sitting in the back of her throat, Scarlett refused to swallow and instead spit the gunk out to the side. It was disgusting, but a necessary evil. Better on the floor than in her throat. Her voice offered her comfort. If she could talk herself out of the pain that was developing in what seemed like every part of her body then maybe she could work her way into waking up and escaping her nightmare.

That wouldn’t be easy.

Now that she had fought off the foggy vale of unconsciousness, Scarlett was reminded of the awful wounds she’d spent weeks recovering from. Her feet had been some of the worst considering how she’d continuously destroyed them in escape attempts but the lacerations along her back from constant whipping hadn’t been easy to deal with either. There had been no comfortable way for her to lay down for ages.

The last bout of torture must have happened recently, at least in the recesses of Scarlett’s mind. Her back was bare and dripping and she was pained every time she moved which was far too frequently for her tastes. It was far more difficult to remain still when she was hanging from the ceiling. Chains rattled overhead and she was reminded suddenly of the noise that has roused her from unconsciousness in the first place.

Something had dropped, fallen, or smashed but she couldn’t quite remember which. Either way, Scarlett couldn’t recall such a thing actually having happened while she’d been held in captivity. Then again, she hadn’t been voluntarily capable of recalling much of anything outside of her terrible nightmares.

She didn’t want to remember any of this had happened. As far as she was concerned, the past was in the past and that was where it belonged. Apparently her subconscious had different ideas.

Her vision finally cleared enough for her to focus on her surroundings. The room was dark but in the shadows she could make out the prison she’d memorized in her escape attempts. There was a loose brick in the corner still secure, hiding her various analyses on planned escapes. At least now she had a timeline. There would be one more attempt to escape, failed, before she would actually manage to get away. Her hiding space had been located after she’d tried to escape from the shackles in the center of the room and each loose brick had been removed.

Scraping sounds outside the door drew her attention away from the loose brick. Someone or something was coming toward her from the hallway, dragging something heavy behind them. The scraping was more irritating than the dripping in the corner of the room. Her chains rattled as she attempted to cover her ears to hide from the new sound.

Something was coming.

The room grew colder, Scarlett’s heart raced and panic gripped her chest. She had to get out of there immediately. But how would she manage that? Her ankles were bound with heavy rope and tied to a hook on the floor and her were hands shackled on either side of her overhead. Scarlett was pretty stuck where she was. How had she escaped such a contraption in the past? It took her a few seconds, but the details slowly returned to her memory.

Her arm had been injured. That was how she’d escaped. It seemed to be a ridiculous notion, but it was why Scarlett’s arm was bleeding that was the key. When she’d been taken in last for “interrogation” which was more or less men in masks asking Scarlett repeatedly who she worked for along with a series of questions she had no answers to then beating the hell out of her once she yielded no information, she’d put up a fight.

For awhile she’d stopped fighting to avoid causing more pain than necessary, but this particular time something had been said that had pissed her off enough to lash out at her captors. What was it that had been said to her? Did she really have time to dig that information up when whatever was making that terrible dragging sound was approaching closer to her doorway? She expected to see its shadow any time now but nothing came.

No one came.

Instead Scarlett focused on the wound on her arm, which was exactly where she expected it to be. It was bloody and looked infected, probably because it was terribly infected and at her own fault at that. She’d purposely hidden something in a wound she sustained during the fight she’d caused with the two men who had been interrogating her. There were steel cables attached to her interrogation chair, keeping it in place on the floor. During the fight, one of the cables had come loose and feathered, wire thin pieces of steel stabbing dangerously at whoever got close to them.

When Scarlett had managed to disarm one of the men and obtain their knife, only after having taken a blow from it to her arm, she’d seized the opportunity to steal several thin pieces of the steel. She wanted to hide them on her person but knew when she was inevitably overpowered she would be strip searched and then returned to her cell. So instead when she’d been knocked to the ground she’d feigned unconsciousness and then slid the wires within her wound. It’d hurt like a son of a bitch but it would be worth it in the long run. The wires were just the right size for picking locks, like the ones around her wrist.

Unfortunately, the metal hadn’t been clean and was covered with god knows how many months of rust and muck and it had irritated the wound on her arm further. Eventually it had been one of the root causes of the terrible infection she’d suffered in the hospital. With the way she was bound and standing barely on her feet, Scarlett didn’t have enough slack in the chains to reach the wound on her arm. How had she done it? Closing her eyes and trying to remember as the scraping of metal against concrete got louder and closer, Scarlett grimaced.

She’d lifted herself as much as she could on one of the chains, the other extended as far as it could go and then used her teeth to pull out the metal hidden beneath her skin. It had been a gruesome task, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Heart pounding in her chest, loud enough to drown out the scraping, Scarlett grabbed onto the chains with sore hands. One of her fingers was broken and refused to bend so she spent several precious seconds cursing about that. As she managed to hold her body up despite the horrible pain in her disjointed shoulders from having hung for so long, Scarlett couldn’t even manage a John McClane joke to ease her tension.

She had to dig with her teeth through torn flesh to find the end of the wire. Disgusted by the effort she had to put into escape, Scarlett ignored her gag reflex. Finally she managed to find her treasure and pull. Pain nearly made her vomit, but she swallowed the acid in her throat and kept tugging until finally the bunch of the wires she’d hidden in her flesh, as short and thin as they were, were free and in her mouth between her teeth. She managed to maneuver it easily from her lips to her fingers and seconds later had broken through the lock with the skill of someone who had done so on many occasions. Her arm hung limply at her side and she swung on the other chain uncomfortably.

“God…” Scarlett had to continue reminding herself that the pain she felt wasn’t real. The anxiety she felt thanks to whatever demon was lurking outside her doorway waiting for her wasn’t real. Nothing she felt now was real.

Except that the pain had been real.

It wasn’t a figment of her imagination or an exaggeration of her subconscious. Scarlett had felt that pain. She’d suffered through every second of it and it had hurt far worse than any memory could.

“Not now,” she growled, reaching up with her damaged arm to release the shackle on her right hand. Preparing herself for what was next Scarlett unlocked the shackle and crashed to the ground. Her feet were too weak to catch her so she had to deal with falling on her side. The pain from her back made her wince and arch as she tried to fight it off. “Not real… It’s not… not real… just signals from the brain, false pain… not real.” Scarlett could repeat all she wanted that the agony was simply caused by misfiring nerves, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Miss Damien.” Scarlett snapped her head up and away from the floor, looking instantly toward the doorway. In the shadows stood the silhouette of a man, with a voice she knew very well. The Russian accent was unmistakable. Mikhail Ivanov, one of the three owners of MedCo, who she was sure was a sociopath, was standing in the doorway even if she couldn’t see his face. The stocky but strong man was dragging something heavy behind him. What she had suspected were chair legs dragging against the ground was most certainly not a chair. What it was, was something Scarlett couldn’t make out thanks to the contrast of bright light that suddenly turned on behind it.

Sitting up immediately and scuttling to her feet, Scarlett nearly fell down again when she realized her feet were still bound by rope. Reaching to loosen the bindings on her legs Scarlett knew she’d run out of time before she could get free. Why on earth did MedCo have to show up in her dreams about something completely unrelated? Wasn’t it torture enough to experience, well, torture? But no, MedCo had to show up and remind her of the guilt she was sure she already had enough reminding of in the first place.

Life could be a real dick when it wanted to be.

“It looks like you could use some help.” Mikhail was standing over her before Scarlett could manage the ropes free of her own accord. Not stopping her tugging on them and trying to pull her feet through the loops she stared up at him defiantly.

“You’re not real.” Scarlett choked on her words again. No matter how many times she repeated that the horrific experience wasn’t real, her mind betrayed her. What if it was real? What if when she’d passed out something terrible had happened to Tony? Maybe they had experimented on her in the past and had discovered the torture she’d experienced in Afghanistan. But how would they know about the fibers in her arm? How would they know what wounds to recreate? The damage done to Scarlett would have taken more time than what she was sure had passed.

No, this had to be a dream. There were no other options.

And yet…

Scarlett trembled from head to toe with fear. What was the point of hiding it when she was terrified? Of course she was scared. What person in their right mind wouldn’t be? Just because she was scared didn’t mean she was giving up. What was it that was said about courage? It was not the absence of fear, but the strength to continue on despite it.

“We both know that is not true.” Mikhail smiled at her but his eyes were cold and malicious. Scarlett managed to slip one foot away from the ropes, but Mikhail grabbed her by her chin and forced her close to him before she could pull further. “You still have work to do, Scarlett. Your contract is… unfulfilled.

Scarlett didn’t respond, instead she wrapped her fingers tighter around the wires still in her hand. It wasn’t much of a weapon but it was better than nothing. Hands trembling, heart pounding in her ears, Scarlett gritted her teeth as Mikhail tightened his grip on her face and turned her head to the side to look her over.

“Such a shame you had to resist. You were so promising. Do you remember what I said to you when we last met?” Mikhail clicked his tongue in disappointment then turned her back to face him. “Scarlett, what are we going to do with you? You must learn from your mistakes, you know. You must pay for your crimes. Criminals do not go free.”

“Criminals?” Scarlett scoffed, coughing, the familiar cling in her throat returning. “I’m the criminal?”

“Yes, Scarlett. Your hands are dripping with blood.” He whispered with a smile still on his face.

Twisting her left arm between her and Mikhail and using the little strength she had left, Scarlett forced his hand away from her face with her elbow. Wires still clenched in her right hand she lunged at him and shoved them straight into his eye as far and hard as she could.

“It’s Miss Damien to you, asshole.” Mikhail howled in pain but didn’t fall back the way Scarlett had expected him too. Blood oozed from his wound but he grabbed quickly at her throat with inhuman strength.

On his feet, before Scarlett even had a chance to react, he shoved her hard against the brick wall at the far end of the cell. Scarlett grabbed at his wrist and with her other hand jammed the wires into his eye further. But Mikhail persisted despite what should have been a crippling wound and threw her to the ground. The rope was still stuck around one of her feet, so using it as leverage she dragged herself quickly across the floor and away from Mikhail. But he was too fast, faster than was humanly possible, and picked her up off of the ground by one arm. The pain was too much and she screamed in misery. His fingers dug into the wound she’d hidden the wires in as he lifted her up. He then tossed her easily through the doorway and over the long metallic object he’d once been dragging.

It looked like a coffin to her, but made of steel and with several glass panels equipped with an electronic lock unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Quickly Scarlett got onto her knees and attempted to get to her feet. The rope had finally come loose during her struggle against Mikhail.

When she made to turn down the hall and run for it, she had to stop short when Mikhail appeared in her way. How had he managed to get around her without her seeing him and so quickly? He grabbed her again by the throat and lifted her off the ground with impeccable ease. Choking against his hand, Scarlett did the only thing she could do, which was dig her nails into his wrists. Eye still oozing, Mikhail glared at her. His face had changed, his features twisted and malformed, more demonic than human.

Throwing her to the ground again, Scarlett’s head crashed against the metallic pod and her vision faltered. Mikhail stood over her, grabbed her by her hair and forced her to look into the coffin through the glass. At first Scarlett couldn’t make out what was inside, but then she saw it clearly.

“What do you plan to do, Miss Damien? You have a contract to fulfill.” Mikhail hissed into her ear.

Staring back at her from behind the glass was something terrifying and familiar. She was inside the metallic prison. Not quite her, but some horrible experimental version of her. There were scars and tubes lining her skin and her eyes were an unearthly green. Covering her mouth to stifle a disgusted cry, Scarlett shoved Mikhail away with the other hand and scooted across the floor in a panic. Closing her eyes she curled up with her knees close to her chest and gripped at her hair.

“It’s not real. Oh, it can’t be real. Holy hell…” Scarlett felt her breath getting shorter and her stomach lurching. The cling in her chest worsened and the heat on her skin from battle and pain became a chill.

Someone grabbed her arm and Scarlett jumped alert and instantly pushed her attacker onto their back defensively. Blinking her eyes open Scarlett was surprised to see Tony looking up at her from an unfamiliar bedspread. His eyes were wide and in his hand he held something dark and wet. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to jump at him. Dripping with sweat, but terribly cold at the same time, Scarlett couldn’t seem to relax or catch her breath. The more she tried to breathe, the worse the cling became so she started to cough, turning her head away from Tony so she wouldn’t cough in his face.

“Hey! Hey… You were sweating… I was just trying to help!” Tony took several seconds to gather his wits and find the proper words to try and ease his girlfriend. The fear he saw in her eyes near the river was magnified by fifty. “You were having a nightmare, I guess…” He knew it was a touchy subject but there was no other explanation for her actions. Scarlett had always been paranoid but he’d woken her up before without her trying to throttle him. “Scarlett? Are you okay?”

Tony…” Scarlett was struggling to break free of the haze of her nightmare. Each time she had them, the haze lasted longer. But the cling in her throat brought her back and she released Tony from her grip and rolled onto her back. Wiping her hand against her sweaty forehead she tried to catch her breath after realizing she’d been holding it. She was feverish and felt sick to her stomach, probably from the nightmare. The terrible memory had become a faded memory now that she’d woken up. The longer she stayed awake, the further away it went.

She didn’t want to think about how terrible it had been more than she had to.

“That was unexpected. I’ve had a lot of women jump on me, but none of them ever looked terrified.” Tony wasn’t joking for once. Sitting up and dusting his shirt off casually, he readjusted on the opposite end of the bed. He had the lights dimmed as not to disturb her while she slept and the curtains drawn.

Scarlett turned to face him at long last, giving him a look that clearly told him how not funny that comment was. As he reached to wipe whatever he had in his hand against her forehead she winced and pulled away defensively. Phantom pain from her nightmare reminded her vaguely of some kind of torture, but not enough to give her exact details of what kind.

“Hey, relax.

“Right.” Scarlett nodded and turned her gaze back at him.

“It’s a very non-lethal wet cloth to ease your fever.” Tony waved the dark colored cloth in front of her so she could see that he was in no way, shape, or form trying to hurt her. Scarlett already knew that, but couldn’t seem to shake whatever defense mechanism had managed to kick in while she slept.

“Okay.” Scarlett coughed again and reached for her jacket pocket only to find that she was no longer wearing her jacket. In fact, she wasn’t wearing much of anything. She was in one of Tony’s t-shirts; an old Black Sabbath one with faded lettering on it. “I’d be sorry for attacking you if you hadn’t stuck me in this thing.”

“I couldn’t help but remember how much you loved Ozzy Osbourne.” Tony brushed her hair away from her forehead before dabbing the cool, wet cloth against her skin. Scarlett leaned into the touch of the wet cloth that soothed the burning of her flesh. The illness she’d contracted had worsened after she’d passed out. It had taken her a few minutes to remember what had happened, but now that she realized she was safe, it came back to her.

“Blue Oyster Cult forever.” Scarlett held up her forefinger and pinkie in the shape of devil horns and then relaxed against the bed.

“Still having nightmares?” Tony brushed the cold cloth against her cheeks and down her neck, seeing how much she relished in the sensation of it. Scarlett didn’t exactly respond but instead shrugged her shoulders and concentrated on Tony’s actions. “Not healthy you know… Repression and all that. It’s not doing you any favors.”

“Sure, you’re the picture of perfect mental health so I should definitely be taking advice from you.” Despite her sarcasm, Scarlett smiled. “I didn’t mean to pounce on you like that.”

“Just next time reward me with sex or make sure my pants are off or something, okay?” Tony smirked, pulling the cloth away but lingering close to Scarlett. Whatever she’d contracted clearly wasn’t contagious or he would have started feeling some symptoms by now. Even if it was he’d decided that catching whatever illness would be worth it. Scarlett would take care of him like he’d taken care of her and that was something he could look forward to.

That was a pretty significant revelation for Tony Stark, that someone else’s well being was worth putting his own in jeopardy.

“I’ll do my best.” Scarlett closed her eyes and then leaned her head to the side. “Why did you change my clothes?”

“Well, that skirt you were wearing, as nice as your legs looked in it, didn’t look very comfortable. Plus you were sweating and it was gross.” Tony grimaced.

“You just wanted to see me naked.”

“Guilty. I’d be an idiot not to.”

“Nice hotel room.” Scarlett sat up carefully, and wiped her hand over her face, trying to shake off the little bit of grogginess that remained. Her head was in a fog, and no matter what she tried, she couldn’t seem to shake it.

“It is, very nice in fact. I hope you feel better soon so that we can enjoy it for a few minutes… or hopefully more than a few minutes.” Tony nudged her gently but moved with her to keep an eye on her. “You’re very sick.”

“And yet you’re still making sex jokes.” Scarlett coughed, covering her mouth and eyeing Tony.

“I had to do something to ease the tension after you nearly killed me.”

“Oh I didn’t even hurt you, you big wimp.”

“Remind me to tell Pepper that one of her suggestions for relieving a sick person nearly put me on my death bed.”

“So dramatic. You poor, poor baby.” Scarlett laughed but then ended up in a fit of coughing when laughter built the cling in her throat back up. “Don’t make me laugh…”

“You know you like it.” Tony brushed her hair away from her skin again and leaned his chin over her shoulder with his lips pouted. “How are you feeling? Any better? I know you keep denying that anything is actually wrong but you’re really sick so let’s both drop the act.”

“Smart ass.” Scarlett lazily leaned her head against his and closed her eyes. She knew she should be on her guard and preparing her next move in the fight against MedCo but she felt sick and tired and wanted nothing more than to rest against Tony until she felt better. For the time being, she was hell bent on recovering or at least letting Tony know how grateful she was that he kept following her and looking out for her despite her stubborn nature. She wanted him to know that she would do the same for him.

“That didn’t answer either of my questions.”

“I’m still too tired to tell. I can’t shake it.”

“Probably because of that nightmare. It must have been pretty bad, huh?” Tony spoke hopefully, hinting for her to share a bit of what was eating at her. Scarlett nodded her head but didn’t respond verbally. A nod was more than Tony had gotten from her in regards to her nightmares so Tony wasn’t about to fight it. “Hey, Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir.” From the laptop sitting on a coffee table across the room came the familiar voice of Tony’s personal computer system. Scarlett smiled fondly at the sound of it.

“How’s she doing?”

“Heart rate is returning to normal, oxygen intake is at one hundred percent but temperature is still spiking to 101.6. I’m afraid you’re still sick Miss Damien.”

“Scarlett, please.” She smiled just slightly and then leaned a bit to the side, forcing Tony’s chin away from her shoulder. Looking back at him she considered her next move. “So, it turns out that I might actually be sick and not just because you and your computer are insisting I am.”

“You probably shouldn’t go running off until you’re better.” Tony rested his hand on her leg. Scarlett didn’t make a big deal of it, but found it endearing that Tony couldn’t seem to stop touching her. When did they become school children in a romantic endeavor? Why did it feel so natural to be this way with someone? They both wondered the same thing.

“I can’t.” Scarlett nodded to agree with that and Tony was very surprised that she had. “And I don’t want to.” Scarlett didn’t think that she’d run off again, even if she wasn’t sick.

“You should see a doctor. I know a guy out here… pretty great references and I’m me so… he’ll make a house call.” Tony got up and picked up his phone from across the room before returning to the bed.

“Don’t push your lucky, buddy.” Scarlett laughed a little and coughed once again, muttering something about being frustrated. “A doctor is going to make me rest longer than I actually can.” The truth was that she was worried a doctor would recommend she go to a hospital. What if something was really wrong with her? She didn’t want to know.

“Well you know they do that for a reason.”

“Would you really stay in bed for a week if a doctor made you?”

“Only if you stayed with me.” Tony shrugged, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not the kind of staying in bed that involves sex.”

“Okay, that’s just not fair.”

“I don’t need a doctor. It’s just a cold I let get the best of me.” Despite her words, Scarlett looked away from Tony. What if it wasn’t a cold? What if it was the result of something horrible done by MedCo? Even if it was an irrational fear it was still terrifying. Scarlett didn’t want to wind up some bloody carcass of an experiment like the people in the facility. Resting her head in her hands, she stiffened up slightly when she felt Tony touch her back comfortingly.

“You’ll get used to it eventually.” Tony whispered in her ear and then laid back on the bed lazily. “You’re thinking about the quarantine aren’t you?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Scarlett shivered when his hand gently crawled up her back beneath the shirt. Usually she’d swat him away, but it actually felt nice for his cold hands to touch against her warm clammy skin. She’d expected him to argue with her further about seeing a doctor and yet he hadn’t.

“Because I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Oh really?” Scarlett turned to look over her shoulder at him. His gaze followed his hand as he trailed up her back and down again.

“I don’t think that you’re infected with whatever that was.” Tony cleared his throat and then brushed his hand over his scruff while he considered the best way to explain what was in his mind and in his heart.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, you only started showing symptoms recently and… I’ve been pretty on top of you, literally, since I found you in South Africa. I haven’t shown any symptoms so I think whatever you have is… a bug you picked up and… I got lucky enough not to get it or it’s something that doesn’t spread normally.”

“I don’t know Tony. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“I think you’re going to be okay.” Tony crawled closer on the bed and lifted the back of her shirt, pressing his lips to her skin. She got the shivers all the way up her spine from his scruff against her flesh. “Goose bumps… every time.” He whispered, gently nipping at her skin.

“I hope you’re right.” Scarlett shivered and then reached to grab his hand to try and urge him to stop messing with her backside. “I’m sick, Tony…”

“And yet you won’t see a doctor.” Tony nuzzled his nose against her back and then sat up, slipping his arms around her.

“You know that seeing a doctor is something we don’t have time for.” Scarlett leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. “I’ll rest for a little while but there’s too much to be done.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that so I talked to a doctor in Malibu that I’m familiar with.” Tony rested his chin against her shoulder again, becoming rather fond of the action.

“What, are you taking secret blood work while I’m sleeping now?”

“I thought about it.” Tony laughed, but then glanced down at his hands. “But these nightmares you’re having changed my mind. Someone did something nasty and you won’t tell me what it was. Considering that, I made the decision not to violate you further. I’ll ask for your blood if I need it. I’m not going to be another person that manipulates you. At least that’s what I’d want if the tables were turned.”

“Actually, I do believe I was the one who pointed out you should likely not disturb her while she slumbered.” Jarvis chimed in. “You were just wondering where to get the blood from.” Scarlett laughed and leaned against Tony’s chest, looking up at him expectantly.

“Well yeah, but then I realized that your nightmares were somehow related to something nasty that either MedCo did or something you’re not telling me so… I drew the rest of the conclusion myself. Smart ass,” Tony clarified. “It’s all because he has this crush on you that he feels the need to constantly one up me. It’s an intelligence system-human romance and he wants you to like him better than you like me.”

“Jarvis, I like you better than I like him.” Scarlett immediately responded. Tony pouted and Jarvis didn’t respond.

“I’m starting to think you have a crush on him.”

“Well, he is rather charming.” Scarlett closed her eyes, exhaustion still overwhelming her. After sending her signals to rest for days, Scarlett’s body had finally won the battle against her determination. She had no choice but to rest until her energy had returned. Maybe it was the comfort of Tony’s arms that had allowed her to finally give in, or maybe it was the nightmares scaring her half to death.

Or maybe she just plain didn’t want to leave Tony again. She’d stay in his arms and they’d figure out where to go from there.

“I’m pretty charming too, you know.”

“And I’m dating you, remember?” Scarlett picked up his hand and kissed his palm. “I love you… but I love Jarvis too. If he was a real guy you’d be in trouble.”

“I’d win anyway.” Tony smirked, looking down at her.

“Weren’t you saying you talked to a doctor before you got off track?”

“I don’t know how I get anything done.” Tony shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ve been saying that since we met. I think Pepper usually forces you to get things done.”

“I think so too, but you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

“And you don’t even have to pay me.” Lazily pulling blankets up over them both, Scarlett urged him to lean back. “Again, off track…”

“Well, I got you some antibiotics. Told a friend about your symptoms and he sent them to me overnight.” Tony brushed his hands through her hair and when she went to stop him, he picked up her hands and urged them to his chin to touch over his goatee.

“Overnight? And they’re here already?”

“You’ve been asleep for a grand total of forty six hours.” Tony frowned, though he tried to sound amused by the fact that she’d slept for so long. Multiple times he’d considered taking her to the hospital but had resisted when Jarvis had reminded him of the consequences of his actions. Instead, he’d called Pepper and gotten her advice on the matter. Even if Scarlett was still on Pepper’s shit list, the woman had been willing to offer advice and had even called the doctor in Malibu for him.

“What?” Scarlett sat up straight and pulled away from his arms. “How long?”

“About two days. You passed out after we got away from that place and I brought you back here. You were out cold and I was too nervous to try and wake you. My guess is you overdid it and your body is playing catch up. The doctor thought so too or I would’ve brought you to the emergency room.”

“Jeez,” Scarlett moved to swing her legs off the side of the bed but Tony pulled her back into his arms and urged her to lay down with him. She didn’t much complain about that but felt guilty for having slept for so long. After making such a big deal about how they didn’t have any time to waste with MedCo up to such nefarious things, two days was a long time to throw away. But then again, if she continued pursuing MedCo in her current state then she would likely be killed or worse.

The “or worse” seemed much scarier now than it had ever been.

“MedCo can wait.” Tony whispered, lazily tangling his hands in her hair.

“For once Tony…” Scarlett brushed her hand against the side of his neck and began to drift. The fever made her shiver and Tony was warm, minus his hands that had been chilled from the cold cloth. “You’re right. MedCo can wait.”
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I do not own Iron Man or the Marvel Universe, but I do own Scarlett Damien so please don't steal her!