Sequel: Paint You Wings

Cyan

II

The sun was bright, brighter than she thought so when the sac was removed she tightly shut her eyes. She knew what to expect and for a moment she wished she could just keep her eyes shut. So instead of focusing on the hurried men speaking in languages she mostly didn’t understand, she centered on the man in front of her.

Tony Stark wasn’t much. At least not in her eyes. He was bloody, bruised, damp and looking pathetically guilty and horrified as his eyes scanned the multiple weapons around. Fawn stared at him as Yinsen kept translating the pathetic excuse of a human being waving his arms around, looking proudly at his merchandise.
Bakaar had his eyes on the engineer, harmlessly happy and satisfied.

“He wants to know what you think,” the doctor softly spoke and Fawn ached to grab a hold of his hand. They’d been working until early morning on the electromagnet, when Yinsen needed at least a few hours of sleep to function. Fawn could go on forever if coffee was issued, accustomed to working long hours, but not Yinsen.

Not Yinsen.

“I think you got a lot of my weapons,” was the dry response of the billionaire. He turned, paler than before with cracked lips and a bloody spot on his lower one.

He was nervous, but then again he ought to be.

“He says they have everything you need to build the Jericho Missile. He wants you to make the list of materials. He says for you to start working immediately, and when you're done, he will set you free,” the translation made her nearly scoff but she held it in, feeling a gun digging on her lower back.

Fawn had a very vivid imagination, and the mere thought of what a gun like that could do to her sent a shiver down her spine. Stark glanced at her, then at Yinsen and finally at Bakaar, who was smiling at him.

“No, he won’t,” he concluded.

Smart boy, she smirked.

“No, he won’t,” Yinsen nodded.

*

Fawn was rubbing water against her latest burn, wincing as the pain took over her arm. It was big, wide, and she longed for proper medical treatment—not hospitals, though. She’d always hated hospitals.

“I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark,” Yinsen began, and it was only then that she noticed the man was sulking. “But they will never find you in these mountains.”

It was kind of pathetic, but then again, she’d always thought celebrities were pathetic. No scientist, no real man, could be that arrogant, that conceited, that cruel. Somehow, having him in front of her made it less real. Made him more human.

Or maybe it was the battery and the utterly defeated look he had in his eyes.

“Look, what you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark,” Yinsen tried to reason, which made her roll her eyes and continue to dab water against the burn. “Your life's work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?”

“Just leave it, Yinsen,” Fawn threw the towel down. It was useless, anyway, and it’d heal soon enough, she supposed. “He’s not going to do anything.”

“Why should I do anything?” he turned to her, giving out a glare. “They're going to kill me, you, him, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week.”

Fawn opened her mouth, about to make a comeback when Yinsen placed a hand over her shoulder. She snapped her eyes to him and immediately dropped them to the floor. He was staring at her with a gentle pair of dark eyes, eyes that reminded her so much of her aunt—the warmth in them, the softness and caring. She felt ashamed of pouring salt on the wound.

“Well, then,” he rubbed the pad of his calloused thumb against the skin of her shoulder reassuringly and looked at Tony Stark with the same kind glance. “This must be an important week for you, then.”

There was silence, and Fawn saw another change in front of her eyes—the kind of newfound determination she’d only seen in another set of blue eyes before. She felt a tug in her heart, her fingers almost moving to her hip before remembering that her most precious device was in the hands of Bakaar.

Yinsen moved away from her, sitting on his worktable again. Fawn chewed on her lip, staring at Stark. He was lost in space, like so many times she’d been. She wondered what he was thinking of, or of who. She wasn’t really into gossip so she wasn’t sure if he was married or had a girlfriend.

She knew his only family had died in a car accident a couple of years ago, which made her heart clench painfully.

How ironic, their similarities.

“You know what?”

His voice startled both Fawn and Yinsen, leaving them staring at the man who stood up with a firm stance, parted legs and a solid look on his golden eyes.

“You’re right,” he pointed at Yinsen. “How do I call them?”

“Just bang on the door,” Fawn crossed her arms under her chest, cocking an eyebrow. “They’ll come right away.”

Before she could even blink, he had taken the car battery to push it against his shrapnel-filled chest and began to bang his fist against the front door. Yinsen gave her a little smirk and she kicked the metal chair he was sitting on softly.

“You know,” she whispered over to him as the doors opened and they both stood. “You’d make one hell of a High School Counselor. I really could’ve used someone like you in my Freshmen year.”

Yinsen just laughed and then began to translate, falling into his role with an ease that made Fawn question just how long they’d really been trapped. Fawn saw workers begin to pile inside, making her palms sweat and her knees wobble. She didn’t really do good when too many people walked inside the cave, not since the last time it happened.

For some reason, Stark had seemed to calm down and was in complete charge of his surroundings. He passed her, plucking her pencil from her jeans pocket as if they were long-time friends. She raised an amused eyebrow his way, watching the man giving out orders as if he’d been born to do it.

But then again, he’d been.

“lf this is going to be my work station, I want it well-lit,” Stark guided. “I want these up. I need welding gear. I don't care if it's acetylene or propane. I need a soldering station. I need helmets. I'm gonna need goggles. I would like a smelting cup. I need two sets of precision tools…”

Yeah, she didn’t like Tony Stark but if she had to work with someone, she’d rather do it with someone who knew what they were doing.