Chapter Text
“That was a disastrous show, although I admit that this time you guys showed off.”
“No more than you did with your super shield that bends at the slightest blow.”
“It didn't happen like that and you know it. Forgive me for being the one to have your back.”
Ava dropped her shoulders casually before being the first to exit the elevator, followed by John and finally Antonia, each taking a different path through the lobby on the top floor of the tower.
The other team members were either absent or doing personal things, which is why the three of them were called out for a patrol near the Statue of Liberty. According to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine's sources, a radical terrorist group was seeking to send a message to the entire country about the new world order. After the dirty laundry of former President Thaddeus Ross was revealed, a certain paranoia was born in people, especially in those with the weapons and the means to get noticed.
Perhaps it was not a good idea to get involved without having a consolidated plan or all the members of the team active, however, Valentina's insistence that The New Avengers gain more and more recognition forced Ghost, Taskmaster and the US. Agent to suppress any danger to emerge.
The situation became more complicated than expected, to the point where all three anti-heroes were affected to a lesser or greater extent. Antonia was the one who took the brunt of it and it showed in her limp. The ash-covered suits bear witness to the disaster of bullets and explosions. The boots and shoes, stained with dusty earth, are the living image of the relentless confrontation that left their owners exhausted. And of course, as soon as the elevator doors opened, they took off their helmets, revealing some bruises on their faces.
Except for Taskmaster, she kept the mask and hood on.
While John drank one glass of water after another and whispered to himself, Ava noticed the other woman sitting in one of the large armchairs overlooking the terrace; the blanket of night would have engulfed her figure but for the modest lighting of the surroundings.
“Are any of them seriously injured?”
“Just pride and a bit of bone, nothing serious.”
“I can bring the emergency kit if they feel unwell.”
The brown-skinned woman rolls her eyes, turning around and leaning her hip on the drink bar. She knows John is just trying to be nice, to show genuine concern for the group despite the ongoing differences in perspectives, but the almost aggressive, egomaniacal tone in which he speaks doesn't help Ava. Besides, she is aware that if she were to feel truly ill she would not hesitate to tend to her wounds on her own.
She scraped a small superficial cut on her left cheekbone with her knuckles before folding her arms and pondering silently. Occasionally she stole glances at the hooded figure still tense in the armchair with her back to them.
The sharp sound of something tapping on the bar caused to quietly tilt her head, finding a small glass that was filled halfway with whiskey by Walker.
“If mistakes in war have taught me anything, it's that the best way to endure them is with a lot of willpower and a good bottle.”
Ava flashed a half-smile and, after a sigh in which she expelled some of her post-battle stress, drank the contents in one gulp, enjoying the passing burn in her throat. John mimicked her, grimacing in satisfying pain from the effect of the alcohol burning his tongue.
“Not bad.”
“I'll go rest, I need a bath. I hope no one misses this pretty bottle.”
“What bottle?”
The man pointed at the brunette with a more genuine smile at her cooperation and disappeared from the lobby, but not before taking a bottle of water with him.
After the wave of overwhelming silence swept over the place, Ava ran her fingers through her hair with her gaze fixed on an invisible spot, thinking.
She recalled the events of the past two hours, specifically the specifics of the mission and how they were forced to act by force to subdue the terrorists. At this point, The Statue of Liberty would require a Wakandan army to ensure the welfare, as everyone seems obsessed with throwing a party there every so many years.
That thought transported her back to that moment that left her speechless.
Amidst the haze of grenades and the dust of the earth she distinguished Taskmaster neutralizing enemies, curiously, with moves that also sought to protect them from external attacks. The shield was what was most predominant, in addition to the bow and sword, but without the aggressiveness that characterizes Walker or the brutality of Yelena. She ignored the blows she received, the obstruction of the field of vision was an inconvenience for her, especially because of how desperate some criminals were to accomplish their goals.
In the end she emerged from the gray dust with blood stains on her mask and clothes.
The police took care of cleaning everything up, but Ava was not oblivious to the other woman's attempts to disguise the wounds she suffered to her leg, arm and head. The white hooded skull made it impossible to see beyond the usual coldness she conveys with her silence even during the ride home.
She turned back to the one who invaded her mind and was not surprised to see her in the same position as before. Ava shuffled through the possibility that Antonia had fallen asleep on the couch, after all, everyone was tired after such a long night, but the subtle tremor she discerned in her knee put paid for that idea.
The distance was no problem for her keen eyesight, let alone her feet, as she approached with a confident stride.
“I hope I'm not interrupting your nightly meditation.”
Nothing. Not the slightest reaction that would show life in the Russian assassin.
“Are you all right? You got hurt pretty bad from that fight.” She changed to a softer tone resting her thigh on the armrest of the chair, and perhaps it was that combination of factors that allowed her to see a little more of the mask “You should check your condition, it's not good to leave wounds untreated.”
The hooded head nodded silently and turned back toward the huge panes of glass. It was obvious how unmotivated the woman was to prolong an interaction she considered unnecessary, or so Ava thought at first and had to regret her frown when she saw the tremors in her right hand and knees. The extremities closest to her.
Antonia heard the long breath and subsequent exhalation at a level that seemed exaggerated to her, but she did not express it in any way. She merely gazed up at the sky, oblivious to the pain biting at her body and face as Ghost's footsteps slowly moved away until she was alone.
She finally felt safe to close her eyes protected by the mask that smelled of blood.
Until the footsteps returned with more insistence and she almost tensed as she came upon the image of the same woman standing in front of her, one hand on her hip, a first aid kit in the other and a raised eyebrow that expressed reproach.
“Do you take that thing off or shall I?”
“What do you want, Ava?
Instinctively she became alert as the brunette's knee landed on the cushion next to her, becoming somewhat enclosed under the body covered in black material up to her neck. The closeness of their faces, even with the barrier of the skull mask, gave her goosebumps; she's not used to anyone having long conversations with her and many willingly having someone corner her while seated.
Ghost removed the hood less gently than expected and without a word touched the button near the ear that dissected the mask until only the tense face of her companion remained. A haughty smile, but devoid of malice, formed on her lips as she noticed the force with which Antonia clenched her jaw.
“If you're uncomfortable with what I think of your scars then don't worry, we all saw you without that disturbing thing on your face and I assure you that it doesn't bother anyone.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look as if you were going to kill me at any moment?” Ava took Antonia's head in her hands to closely analyze the skin bruised in the confrontation, adopting a more serious look than before. “You got hit very bad; you have a swollen cheekbone and the line of a knife near your lip. This needs to be disinfected.”
She reached for the kit and rummaged through it, listing a few things as she was watched intently by her unexpected patient. Neither seemed to notice the other knee that went up to mimic her twin and so Ava straddled Antonia's lap, the latter not even pushing away the tense hands that brushed against her pants.
“Don't move.”
A new wave of uncertainty hit Antonia as she allowed someone else to wipe the sweat from her face and neck in such a vulnerable position. Her stomach churned from imagining the mocking disappointment in her late father's eyes if he saw her in that situation. Stripped of her weapons allowing another trained assassin to touch her throat with a towel, something that could be used to strangle.
Memories of the monster that made her what she today comes and goes like the wind, just like most of the images of her past.
A short hiss escaped her lips as a cotton ball touched the shallow cut. The sensation of the burning liquid in her wound rivaled the shiver of Ava's fingers on her skin. The hand that held her head was one thing, but the fingertips that groped her mouth with each touch of the cotton was another.
It felt strange, uncomfortable, and improbable.
And a little good.
“You were brave, stupidly brave out there.”
“We were going to get killed if I didn't fight.”
“I don't mean that, you had a lot of courage protecting us at the cost of your own health and trying to fight without lethal blows...until those assholes willingly threw themselves into the lion's den.”
“I killed most of them.”
“I know, you had no choice, but you tried to give them a chance to surrender. Deciding to be noble is not easy, for any of us it is, for that I thank you.”
Ghost's fingers tangled in the dark brown locks, spending a few seconds outlining the scars on the right side of her face. The pair of eyes of different colors did not leave hers despite her attention being completely consumed by what imagination drew about Antonia's past.
She knows the most important things thanks to Yelena, Alexei and the declassified files of The Red Room, but it is the details of those who had no voice to cry out that carry the most pain with the passage of time.
For some reason, Ava feels that the worst moments of her own life were paradise compared to what Taskmaster had to experience.
It took her a while to realize how intimate the touch of her fingers on the scarred skin had become, even her face had moved closer to see more and her breasts were inches away from rubbing together.
She stepped back pretending that this change of environment did not affect her and continued with her work of disinfecting the cuts and then placing gauze and patches. One on the corner of the jaw, one on the nose, two more on the cheek and the last one on the temple.
“Is that better?” She searched for Antonia's gaze, but it was silhouetted in another direction, distant.
After snapping her fingers and regaining the Russian assassin's interest, she understood what was happening and let out a short laugh as she remembered the origin of the horizontal wound on her temple.
A wound much more recent than the scars she has carried since childhood and prior to tonight's bruises.
The bullet that shot her the day they all met.
The bullet that miraculously only grazed her head.
“You know, for someone with memory problems it's ironic that you never forget that I almost killed you the day we crossed paths.”
No response again. Far from being frustrated, Ava was amused by the stiffness in Antonia's profile, curiously having a perfect view of the gauze trimmed where the bullet passed through. The short brown hair didn't help hide the enigma of their first encounter.
She touched the area with her thumb and immediately the two different irises looked at her with distrust.
“To what hidden deity in the universe must I pray that someday you will forgive me?” She put her thumb to her mouth and then wiped a spot of dried blood that remained on Antonia's scalp, revealing another scar from the past “I'm sorry for all you've had to go through.”
“...”
“And I'm sorry you didn't get the best impression of me.”
“I don't hold a grudge, Ava.”
The tense body on the couch bore without complaint that of the woman who pressed herself more and more against her unnoticed.
“So?”
“I'm having trouble getting used to such a drastic change.”
“Yelena told me about the atrocities that took place in The Red Room.” She clicked her tongue as she felt she put her foot in her mouth when Antonia closed her eyes and tensed her shoulders “We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”
“I don't know if I'll ever feel comfortable dealing with this.”
“I spent many years dealing with the instability of my molecules until a solution finally arrived. Yes, very late, but it helped me to value patience, even more so in areas that are worth waiting for.”
The brunette's surprisingly soft hands once again took the chestnut's face to make eye contact. There was none of the humor or acidic sarcasm she usually conveys when she smiles, it was just a smile, nothing more; something Taskmaster didn't know how to interpret and chose to remain expressionless.
“You don't have to face your battles alone, neither when we are on a mission surrounded by idiots nor when you want to hide in an armchair away from everything and everyone. We are a team.”
“I've heard you say that you're surrounded by idiots here too.”
“Well, those are particular situations. Sometimes you all get on my nerves, and I have no choice but to say what I think.” Her lips curved relieved to see tranquility in the eyes of the one who is receiving the warmth of her hands “But I wouldn't change you for anything in the world, you are all important to me.”
Something felt different in Antonia's chest as soon as those words reached her ears, praying inwardly not to forget them.
Her right hand took on a life of its own and with hesitant movements she hesitantly reached up to touch Ghost's waist. Her human reasoning told her that this was an involuntary and even logical reaction given their positions. The normal thing to do is to want to hold the one above you so they don't fall.
But the goose bumps caused by the contact of her fingers with Ava's black clothing proved her wrong.
She genuinely wants to touch her; to share the same comforting warmth she is giving her cheeks.
The minutes passed in silence, a pleasant silence with no further spoken interactions arising; just the two of them, in proximity. Ava spent so much time contemplating every detail on the trapping face that she didn't notice the hands resting on top of her hips until Antonia swallowed saliva.
Apparently, that action unleashed more nervousness in the causer than in the receiver.
“How am I supposed to interpret that?” She arched an eyebrow, containing the curve that wanted to form at the corner of her mouth.
“I don't want you to fall.”
“Of course, it would be a real tragedy if my knee slipped off the edge of the cushion and I plunged to my certain death onto the carpet.”
Ava wrinkled her nose in innocent mockery as she felt those hands squeeze the sides of her body a little. She thought it pleasant.
“Although something tells me you'd save me from falling.”
“Yes.”
The brunette's face hovered over the chestnut's immersed in the serenity of what in another context might convey the wrong message, after all, it was just two teammates dispelling the anxiety of a night that went worse than expected.
Until the moment when one straddled the other to tend to her injuries.
The first to realize how intimate their gazes were becoming was Ava, who pulled her hands away from Antonia and uncomfortably lowered herself off her lap, taking care not to touch Antonia's injured leg. She avoided eye contact as much as possible and knelt next to the couch with the emergency kit.
“I will check the condition of your arm and leg, please uncover those parts of your body.”
The lack of the previous complicity might have generated something in the Russian assassin, but in case it had, she didn't show it, merely removing her glove and rolling up her forearm. The pair of different, dull eyes returned to the safety of the night sky as Ghost examined the childhood burned limb.
Both women suffered from a knot in their stomachs for different reasons as the tension eats up the lobby.
Antonia felt the pain rise her chest until it caught in her throat, the sting of memories mingling with the ghost of soft hands on her cheeks, one of them on the damaged side of her face; something so improbable she wanted to laugh in helplessness, but her father had long since taken away the ease of expressing emotion.
Those same fingers traced a couple of fresh cuts in her flesh and she didn't control the trembling of the limb when her knuckles were touched.
“I'm sorry…”
Antonia closed her eyes tightly and clenched her jaw, the discomfort in Ava's voice hurt her more than the wounds being treated with pure alcohol and disinfectant.
Another ghost emerged from her memory, it was a Black Widow, one of the few she saw before she left in search of her last target before the destruction of The Red Room. In a way she understands why exactly that girl came back to haunt her in her mind, as the face, age, name and any features of her person are blurred.
She only remembers the pose and what she did. Standing in front of her, oblivious to her suffering after inserting the information disk into her old helmet, she drew a smile with her fingers over her mouth. A childish, irrelevant gesture, typical of someone who had been in an equally lousy situation.
Her mind compared it to Ava's treatment.
Similar postures, diametrically opposed sensations.
The other hand opened and closed as if it wanted to return to the giddiness of grabbing Ava by the waist.
“Ready, I think this will relieve some of it. Tomorrow we'll have to check and change the bandages.”
“I understand.”
“Now your leg.”
The brunette opened her eyes wide at the speed with which the assassin unzipped her pants and ungracefully pulled them down to the middle of her calves, remaining seated.
They looked at each other for a couple of seconds before Ghost resumed her attention to the companion's body. She did her best not to look at the exposed flesh and concentrate only on why she is kneeling.
Her hands massaged the bruised skin, an unpleasant purple color on the knee and part of the thigh contrasted with the rest of the white skin. That comparison inevitably made her steal glances, as if curiosity to discover what her companion's black suit concealed might outweigh her own concentration.
The leg spasmed as she pressed a piece of white cloth into the bruise, but she didn't stop. She avoided expressing any emotion on her face until the affected areas of Antonia's leg were bandaged as well as the forearm, and as soon as she was done she caught herself staring at the taut thighs.
Her eyes ascended to meet the mesmerizing gaze of two orbs that, after the team's officialization, have regained some life.
“Thank you.”
The silence before and after that almost imperceptible word scratched Ava's heart.
“It's all right.” She stood up, wiping her hands on a cloth and helped reposition the other woman's pants without forcing her to get up. “You need to rest, preferably in your bed, and don't move around too much.”
“I'm fine.”
“Excuse me, but I don't believe you. You have very little concern for your well-being.”
“I can handle this.”
Taskmaster's disgruntled face was in shock as she felt Ghost's hands on her cheeks again and then the touch of lips on her temple, right at the edge of the gauze where the scar from the gunshot had been the day they met for the first time.
A shiver incomparable to any other invaded the back of her neck and spread throughout her system, not to mention the tingling in her forehead that almost made her jump backwards.
She doesn't even remember if she breathed in all the time Ava prolonged the kiss on her head until the eventual parting.
“This is for you to recover better.” Ghost smiled wryly at her, regaining her usual humor and confidence that was enhanced by how stunned the brown woman was. “I think I need another drink; do you want one? Today we deserve to celebrate another moderately successful mission.”
The racing heart of one contrasted with the amusement of the other, who before returning to the bar paused to ponder a couple of things and twist her torso a bit.
“Hey, about what I said about your mask and hood...I didn't mean it. You look great in those things and if you feel comfortable wearing them all day then that's your right.”
Slowly Antonia's head moved to look sideways at the brunette standing a couple of feet behind her, with such concrete sincerity that it left her frozen in that position as she watched Ava turn away.
“Just make sure you clean them regularly, blood is hard to remove when it dries, especially on dark suits with white parts.”
The chestnut stood stunned contemplating the woman's back and then distant profile as she poured two glasses, feeling anxious as the pounding heartbeat pounded in her chest.
She kept remembering the ghost of those hands on her face all night long, neither when she went to bed nor when she fell asleep.