A/N: Back to the basics, because I don't think you guys really enjoyed the AI chapter-thingy. Also, I HAVE 8 READERS NOW!!! WOO-HOO! WELCOME TO THE CLUB!                                                    This chapter is... yeah. I won't really add warnings for this, even though I'm supposed to, but if you would like me to add warnings for future chapters just go ahead and PM me. But, you might be sad. If you care about Helen. And I feel like this is a bit rushed. It's some Taylor Swift shit right here. ( Listen to "Champage Problems", and then "Jump then Fall", and then "Question?" )

"Okay, so, I need you to be quiet so I can find the microphone, is that good?" James whispered, standing uncomfortably close to you. You nodded, taking a deep breath. He walked a dozen feet away from you, engulfed in the near darkness.

The wind's pace quickened, and so did your heartbeat. It was highly contradicting that the tent in which you had sought solace during so many unfavorable times now brought you a sense of dread which lingered like someone's wary eyes. Even in your own shelter, you were devoid of privacy. The thick air nested inside your lungs, each breath sending a sharp pain which thrust through your chest, an invisible knife clinging desperately onto your skin. You exhaled sharply, eternally grateful to your surroundings for concealing the slow gasps you took in order to calm down. Maybe this wasn't the only thing which was hidden tonight. Your exhalation, which was supposed to carry serenity into your mind, did nothing but strip you of the last shreds of hope dappled with unperturbed sentiments. Your heart pounded in your chest, and each beat sent a fresh pang of terror into your brain. You couldn't even trust a lifelong friend like Howard. The same Howard who was prepared to throw himself in front of a falling bridge and push you out of the way to save your life. 

No, this couldn't be Howard. Hadn't he promised you that you could trust him no matter what?

What if he had been watching you this entire time?

What if he had changed?

Or, you shuddered now, unable to conceal the tears that pricked your eyes, threatening to flow down your stone-cold cheeks which were in absentia of the rosy blush they often unveiled in a plethora of emotions.

Or you were the one, unlike your past disposition. You weren't Helen Carter, just an inutile muse. Inspiring trouble. Just an insubordinate flame about to be brushed off of the epaulettes of an extravagant man. You raked your eyes at James, who was peering inside your tent from as far as he could. His brow was furrowed in concentration and an unidentifiable expression as he kept his distance to your 'habitat' painfully clear. Why won't he go in? He's scared, isn't he? He's scared of my things. Scared of me. 

An agonizing sob racked your body as his invisible fear siphoned off into your own inlets. What was in there that stopped him from stepping forward? Was he afraid it might burst into flames? Was he really scared of you? 

You were scared, too. At this rate, you were about to kill yourself for the strain you were putting on your mind, body and soul. Trembling with insight, you squeezed your palms, smothering them in each other's company, afraid that heat would start with spreading from your body, 

You clutched your abdomen in anticipation of the loudness which reverberated out of your mouth. An ache spread like wildfire through your entire body, but the amount of pressure you put onto your stomach resulted in a concentrated suffering. Abnormally enough, this made you want to laugh. Can't even live without hurting myself. You still hadn't matured past self-effacing humor, and something broke inside of you when you realised it was the one thing Peggy warned you not to. I'm sorry. You cursed quietly when you felt a trickle rolling down the planes of your cheekbones. Your words, however, did no go unheard. Misfortune struck as the realization dawned onto James' face that you were crying. He rushed over and took you in his arms when your position trembled. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You don't want to lose control in front of him. He might die. YOU might die. A shuddering gasp escaped your lips like a tremor, a cascade of emotions crumbling your poorly composed façade. Now the soughing winds screamed with such rage that you quivered next to James. His deep-blue eyes swept over your face frantically and his grip on you tightened. Escalating concern from him emanated awareness to you that you were going to break down again if you looked at you with such worry. He's still scared of me. You pushed him away from you with little effort, selfishly holding on to the thought your pain brought closeness. It was nice to have a friend. And that friend brushed off your miniscule stabs at freedom from his protection. 

"Helen, what's wrong?" He enquired, careful not to push you to the verge of fragility. Right now, your heart was glass. He wouldn't be the one to drop it. He grasped your hand and enveloped it in his, in a grasp that you certainly wouldn't be able to break in this situation. His gaze was warm as his eyes darted around your face, finally stopping into your glowing eyes, where something clicked into place. You almost felt comfort in his arms, under his prudent sight, but once again your mind was clouded by trepidatory intuition, that he was never was unafraid of your abilities. As the wind rattled the trees nearby, your hair flew out of control, eastwardly, as his eyes remained locked with yours. A stray leaf broke out of its home and embedded itself in your wavy locks, simply to be removed by James' cautious hand. "Tell me." he ordered gently. 

You focused on your breathing, trying to stop yourself from breaking your voice from the dry puffs you were taking. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop the negative thoughts intruding on your delicate mood. Do you really trust a man in on a plan to use you?  Yes. No. Yes. Why do you feel so safe?  Because he's not untrustworthy. He's done nothing wrong. Really?  Yes. Say that you're not afraid of him. 

"I-I'm not afraid." You managed to choke out, a rasp gripping onto your throat. His countenance immediately softened as he wiped the tears off your face, now burning red. You counted on him to get you out of this state. Normally, this would have been Angie's job. But she was gone. Even more minute were the chances that Howard would we found comforting you. Yet with James, there was... something different. You didn't know him that well. But he seems to know you. His smile confirmed it. 

"Of course you're not. Bravest dragon I've ever met." he added jokingly. You let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and tugged his collar to bring him closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he breathed out for the first time after ages. His warm hands found themselves on the small of your back and he pulled you closer to his body, whispering affirmations that you would be alright. Tranquility graced your thoughts as an impenetrable cloud drifted apart from the crescent moon, a sliver of light dappling your face, and his dark hair. "Breathe for me, will you?" The deep breaths you took now were felt much less forced, obliterating the knot in your stomach which subsequently breaks loose, and so does fear. A shuddering sigh escaped from your mouth as the harsh winds found themselves guests in your own expanse. You felt heat creeping up to your neck as you entered the full realization of your current, extremely vulnerable position. How are you going to get out of this situation?

Without a second of thought, you cleared your throat. His hold on you, however, prevailed as unwavering. 

"Want to tell me what's wrong?" He whispered in your ear. 

No. "I don't know. I'm fine now. Don't worry about me. Just - just go get that microphone.". You stared out into the sweeping swathe ahead of you, startled by just how much cover the moonlight, or alleged lack of it, really offered you. 

James was not fooled by your pointless stab at ineffectual normalcy. "Not until you tell me". Even through your inability to see his face, you could hear the inexplorable smile he had plastered upon his face. "You're trapped anyway." 

A weak laugh escaped your white lips in the pretense of sanity. "I could break your arms right now."

"I know," James said softly. "But you don't need to. Besides, what happened to mind over matter?"

You bit your lip, conflicted over the two choices you involuntarily derived from the... experience. Yes, that word works. A few moments passed by as you remained stationary. If you didn't tell him that you couldn't go into the tent without murdering Howard for his violation of privacy, he'd simply think that you were a mad woman whose emotions flooded her every action, and brush it off. But if you told him, and you helped him understand that... you needed a friend to confront Howard and his overly-personal contributions to "improvement", then...

maybe he'd help you. 

You're pathetic, you know that?  Yes, I'm aware. It's just a blasted microphone, go in, rip it out, and go on with your life. I can't. But why? I'm... not sure. Then God help us all. 

"James." you blurted out, unsure of what possessed you. You immediately hoped the wind would take back your words, but you were greatly disappointed at his reciprocal in conversation. 

"Yes?" he replied, alert. He wondered if you were finally ready to open up to him. 

"I-" your voice cracked, "Can you stay with me?" 

Damn it. 

James breathed out a sigh of relief, cherishing the realization that you were just... lonely. 

"Always."

You scrunched up your nose as you prepared for the worst, inescapably long-standing . It was like ripping out a band aid. A swift movement and it's done. "I..." you broke off once more. 

"Tell me." He eventually moved away from your pitiful embrace, and his eyes burned into yours, emanating a shiver from you, but you hid it well. 

"I don't want to take out the microphone alone. Howard - I'm going to kill him, that's what I'm going to do. I thought maybe we'd just go in, take out the microphone, and call it a day. Then I happened, and-"

He cut you off by shaking his head and wiped the liquified version of hell that cascaded down your face. You felt your face going hot, and a desperation clutching on to your throat as the tears threatened to spill even more. "That doesn't matter now."

"Will you kill Howard with me?" you quizzed, weakly. 

"Uhhh... If you say so, doll."

"Good enough."

A few seconds in silence were decimated by your clearing of your throat. "Sorry about that. "

The glitter of his eyes was invisible, but irrefutably contemporary. "No worries. Looked like an asthma attack to me. You have that?" He added. 

"No. Fortunately."

He swallowed, his mouth a desert in which life gradually faded away. "My friend has asthma. And a million other illnesses.".

Steve, you recognized. Or someone else. 

You subconsciously brought your hand to your locket, testing its illustrious luck in which it shielded you from harm.  Identical to the style James was shielding you right now. Thanks. 

A ghost of a smile crept up to your lips, and the most natural thing to infiltrate in your propagating sense of awareness was, once again, an escaping thought painted in the scintillating form of stupidity. Does he... like me?

"Thank you- for being with me here tonight." you tasted out the words which slipped out like a drizzle. "I assure you, I'm not usually a wreck.". The lie you implemented on his proclivity to help you out grazed you more than he would ever notice. Then again, what was there to notice about you, a girl whose emotions overpowered her ability to live?

Maybe, you should shut your brain off. Focus on anything else. Force yourself to sleep now. No matter the cost. Then again, it was fun to take a break... from reality. And bask in your deprecated brain's glory. Sometimes you liked pain. It was a wonder you ran away from something so passionately that you'd forgotten that it was from turmoil that you emerged victorious. 

His melodious laugh, once again, interrupted your thoughts. He seemed to do that a lot. You enjoyed his company; he prevented you from ruining your prospects in life. Admit it. And maybe you enjoyed his company because... his smile brightened your day. His beautiful smile. Get a grip. You smiled yourself, amused at the reality which struck you almost daily now. You were warring with yourself. And what about it?

Conflict is essential to betterment. Confrontation is the solution to each problem. 

You stared out at the moon, imploring it to answer the dispute of your mental stability. It just gleamed ahead, ignorant of your pleads. Once again, you're on your own. You chuckled, genuinely, this time. 

"There's that smile." James alerted his presence by breathing out a sigh of relief, contentment attached to every fibre of his being.  "Keep it for me, will you, doll?"

His piercing steel blue eyes gazed into your own, and you were awe-struck at the moment, unable to process anything than the beautiful specks of white they were coated in. His eyebrows scrunched up close, his concern was like a breath of fresh air. He'd built an bridge of solicitude atop the murky grounds of your quivering sentiments, covered in the fast-flowing currents your tears constructed. Unwavering, tall, ornate with each shimmering jewel which dimmed in comparison to his ethereal stare, guiding you amidst the chaos in the drowning battlefield you fought in everyday, bloodshed and bruising your companions, trusted in your long-lasting experience. An archway to heaven. Your heaven. All fading to nothing as he entered your vision.  Would you have credence in him mesmerizing you? Were you prepared to confess that you'd made the mistake, over and over again? Would you regret? Each rehearsed slips led you into a new pair of arms. Just this once, you didn't fall. At least you did one thing right. Nothing matters anymore. In all of eternity, in the entire universe, you were prepared to bet on your life that the regard you overlooked which opposed you now, this was all true. Not a dream. 

You were boarded up after the storm, an aptitude of accepting ease expanding in an umbra of emptiness. Whichever way you were pointed to, you'd stay lifeless here reveling in his arms rather than face this... affliction in solitude. Past the curses, a phantom of quietude unwinds in the pit of stomach where there were tremors just minutes ago. Or so you thought. Flickering pinpricks of sunlight crawled back into the awaiting lap of the sky, tousling each cloud on its journey. Flushed, blistered, bloody, love-sick. Innumerable descriptions, depictions, each with a unique perspective in which life was either illuminated, or blinded. Now, which motion would you follow? 

Inertia in remaining the maiden in distress, a rose-blush smothering each notion, incapable of seeing every inch of the painting as you were so doomed to do since birth?

Or the barren, despondent monster so devoid of love that simple contact bruised their skin?

"It's hard not to smile around you." you ended up answering, truthful to the very brink that it scalded you. His cheeks tinted with the rosy glow of the sunrise, he sensed the truth within you. Even in the times you had to lie. 

A heart-breaking chuckle slipped out his mouth, and a quick exhale shattered the silence that trailed behind. "On the contrary, your eyes are like daggers when you look at me."

Well, the sharper they are, the more attention I pay to you. That's a good thing. Right?

Right?

"Well, after that momentous delay, I might just take the microphone out myself. I don't mean to offend you, of course," you explained, trying to keep your tone as neutral as you possibly could, "but I can do it myself. Just point it out.". You held your necklace in between your hands, twisting and turning the centerpiece over and over, the memories exuded from it squashed the boot of vengeance you adorned, but never cherished. Serving blindly in matters beyond your own knowledge was never your style. You'd rather stand for something you could put your heart in and fall, than to tackle an objective you were never meant to be a part of. Which brought you back to the convoluted steps Howard's rash decisions pushed you to assume. 

"No problem, it's somewhere near the gauge of your heater." Your blood boiled at the mention of the heater Howard ungrudgingly offered to fix, his oh-so-dignified opinion per se being an element of your forced gratitude towards him. So strategized, there was a hidden motive behind this philanthropic deed, his own selfish agenda. It was of necessity. You weren't even fazed by this. Betrayal usually clung to you like its life depended on it, and you weren't about to get rid of any easier. However, mirth danced in your eyes as you met James' gaze.

"Thank you. Now, I think you should go back to sleep. I can walk you to the tent, if you like..." you offered, seeing it the most natural thing you could do right at this moment. 

He smiled, and shook his head. "I'm alright, just take care of yourself for me."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." you answered back. You watched him take aggravatingly loud steps into the shadows which neatly engulfed him, and you turned around and treaded gently towards the tent, peeling open the curtain with such fragility that, to a passerby, it may have seemed that you were entering a dying man's home. Well, Howard will be the dead man here very soon. 

A faint click-clack did not issue into the surroundings, as it normally did, and the deafening silence as you made your way quietly to the heater which disappointedly failed to provide the warmth you long yearned for. Painstakingly, a few seconds in which you proceeded in the journey to the tool that Howard used as a medium of disrupting your privacy were intransigent in their silence, but soon the gravity of your problems sunk you down deep into the ground. Howard was always up to something, wasn't he? Supplying weapons and his meticulous tactical insight for the best, constructing a facade of humanity to his crowds prepared to catch him and his every whim when he leaped, single-handedly destructing the industry, all in the name of freedom, and here was taking yours. When all comes to push and shove, Howard would be watching in his golden podium above everyone else. 

Why would a powerful man indulge in wars which could be fought with pawns at his disposal?

Once again, your judgement was pointless and stupid to the big, strong, wise men who overpowered you and saw you as "just a pretty face". 

Your fingers skimmed the cold metal of the neglected heater, and the temperature reflected your feelings toward the benefactor whose genius idea led you crouching in the dark at this moment. He'd left so cheerfully after his terrible, awful, heart-breaking drunk confession that the day was a monument to dead glory. Was that even true? It's just a question. He'd known that you would let him in, and he'd lie there waiting for the perfect opportunity to invade your tent, which was your only home left at this point. You'd left your real one to fight in a nonsensical war with your friend, and he did this. It's not just a microphone at this point; He'd crossed the line, and you were ready to make him pay for it. 

A sharp intake of breath, and you knew you'd found the blasted little thing. You ripped out of the wire connecting it to the gauge, and you twirled it in your fingertips. Its resemblance to a usual, miniature lapel pin was uncanny, and you had to give it to him. This wasn't an easy feat. Both the destruction of your seclusion AND the minimalization of the size of a microphone. He wouldn't have it any easier next time. 

You took his invention outside gingerly, scanning the area for an umbra, and ultimately finding a perfect spot. You stride across, drop it, and squash it with the sole of your Mary Jane heels, relishing the crunch that came as a result. Just for you, Howard. You picked the demolished pieces one by one and held them in the palm of your freezing hand, walked back to the tent. You stopped in front of the tent, bent down, and tore of an insignificant part of the curtain, and wrapped up the shattered remains. 

You'd just wait for him to get back to gift it to him. 

That night, you had no nightmares, but a bitter-sweet memory played in your mind. Not that you could choose whatever your plagued your nights. 

1925. Excuse the toddler writing. 

"Come out now or you'll regret it!"  A loud voice shouted. 

Your heartbeat was becoming faster and louder every second. You didn't want anyone to find out where you were because of that. You tried to stop your loud breaths by squeezing your mouth with your hand, but it didn't really help. You just sounded like a dying frog. Would he find out where you were because of this?

You couldn't afford to be found. You didn't have that much to give away, but you still had a lot to lose. 'Stay put, silly' you kept telling yourself, over and over and over again. The leaves kept tickling your face, and you wanted to laugh so badly, but if you did, it would all be over.

Your legs had fallen asleep, and you would give ANYTHING to get out of this weird spot. Maybe if you just moved over, just a bit...

No. You couldn't do that. This tiny, little thing would cost you quite a lot. You weren't really sure what it would cost, but it wouldn't be that good for you. You wiped your muddy face with your hands and stared at the green, lush tree ahead of you. You wanted to cover yourself up better, get some more leaves, maybe find a few sticks too, but that would take way too long, and you would probably make a lot of noise as well. 

The sun was way too bright, and it hurt your eyes so much. You just wanted to get out of here. You rubbed your nose red and took a few sniffs to see if the air was wall of his scent, but all that came in was the warm summer air and a few specks of dirt. 

Before you could stop yourself, the sound of a sneeze came out your mouth, and all you could think as you slipped fell down the tree was "Oh no!". 

You squeezed your eyes shut and hoped for the best. A small, hard body stopped yours from falling down very hard to the ground, but it still hurt. Like, a LOT. You took very, very deep breaths, and you were so scared. You'd be paying at last. And it wasn't really your best moment. You had a REALLY big problem, and you had no clue how to solve this. 

Maybe just run? 

Hide again? 

What would that do, really? 

He'd still catch up to you, and right now, you were sort of lying on top of him. 

"Ahhh, get off, you're on top of me!" Howard shrieked, flailing his arms around like a gorilla. "You kneed me, cookie!" You rolled off of him, and punched his arm. "Ow!" he yelled. 

"Don't call me that, you - you PRAT!" you snapped, but you immediately slapped your hand to your mouth. Howard looked at you with confusion at that word, because he was SO American, but if Aunt Peggy was here, she would get very cross with you for saying that. 

"Don't lose your wig there, Leni, I was just joking." he said quietly, but with Howard, either everything is a joke, or none of it is, so you weren't really sure that he was being true, or just being Howard again. 

"Sorry for punching you." you brought your hand forward so that you could apologise to him. 

"Sorry for calling you cookie."  he shook your hand gracefully and he smiled at you. You smiled back. But then he looked at you all smug and said, "Pay up, loser."

You groaned out loud. You fished out your pocket money, and Uncle Michael had been so generous giving it to you, when you had asked for only a third of the amount you actually received. You held three nickels in your hand, and you were actually quite guilty as you gave 2 of them to Howard. 

"You better not waste all of them right away, Howard, or I'll kill you right here." you hissed at him, and you were sure that even though Howard never spent his money in front of you, he'd probably spend it all on hot dogs or something like that. Didn't his parents already have so much money?

Why was he asking you to pay up nickels?

Howard turned red, and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. But you knew that he was going to ask you buy something for him. It was mean of him, seeing that he'd won 2 thirds of your money already, but YOU weren't going to be mean to him, because you probably broke his ribs or something. 

You scrunched up your mouth a bit, to make it look like you were angry and didn't want him to take advantage of you all the time, and quizzed, "Need something, Hal?"

He seemed almost happy when you asked him that, and he nodded cheerily. "Yeah, just a hot-dog if you don't mind. We could share it, even, if you want to. Just that, thanks. We should probably 23 skiddoo, or Mr. Martinez is going to drag our bodies into a graveyard." he added nervously, checking over your shoulder to see if a big, tall, scary man was glaring at you two from his window. 

Sighing, You brushed off the dirt from your clothes and ruffled up his hair which was full of leaves, but he didn't really like that. 

You took his hand and you both ran over to the extremely smelly subways, pushing through the crowds, and as you reached underground, you prepared for the worst and you practiced breathing with your mouth. 

"Gah, it smells like heck!" Howard mumbled, disgusted by everything in the way. 

"It sure does, so stop breathing with your nose."

You waited patiently with Howard, hand-in-hand, mesmerized by the bright lights of the trains which held the most wealthy, but you knew you'd never really enjoy it. You'd gotten so used to the murk that a clean, polished train which smelt like wood wouldn't appeal to your senses immediately. 

Finally, your disgusting train came along, and you quickly ran inside. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a man staring at you very weirdly, and you stepped closer to Howard, who was busy counting the raindrops which raced down the window. You got off to your destination which was Coney Island, of course. You could stay here forever if you didn't have anything better to do. And if you were allowed, undoubtedly. Sadly, you weren't.

You crossed the grounds merrily with Howard by your side and reached Nathan's Famous Hot - Dogs stall. You handed over your last quarter for a delicious, hot, juicy hot-dog, and Howard stared at it painfully, as if he expected it to disappear any second. And it did. 

He was really so hungry that it barely took a few short seconds for him to devour it down like his life depended on it. Your stomach still grumbled, but the look on his face made you very sad, so you tore of a small chunk of the sausage for yourself and handed the rest of it to him. 

He looked at you shocked, and he wouldn't accept it at all. 

"Take it Howard, I'm not even that hungry." you told him. 

He took a deep breath, and shook his head, his curls bouncing. "No, Helen. It's yours. It's not right of me to take it from you." But when he looked at the sausage in your hand, he licked his lips unknowingly. 

You tossed your chunk into your mouth, and shoved the sausage into his hands. "Take it. Or I'll fight you." you threatened him. 

"No, Leni, I-"

"TAKE. IT. NOW."

The fear on his face was honestly a bit funny, because here you were, fighting over a sausage. He gulped, and said weakly, "Alright." He took it hesitantly, and you watched him eat the whole thing in a few seconds, and you weren't even surprised. You just hoped he wouldn't throw up all over you. 

"Do you even eat at home?" you asked, both sarcastic and curious. What you were expecting was a brush-off, quick jokes, snarky comments, that type of thing. But when he looked at you with sad eyes and cheeks redder than the sun, that sort of threw you in for a loop.

"Uhh... yeah. C'mon, we should be going home. It's getting dark." he pulled you along, and you didn't really want to argue with him right now. Fighting in Coney Island wasn't really your style. You'd ask him later when you both got home safely from here. 

Because that weird man seemed to have followed you, and he was sitting on a bench and shooting daggers at you with his eyes. This time, you were getting very anxious, and you walked faster. "Howard, can you hurry up, please?"

He looked at you in an odd way, but he followed suit, back into the dark passage which absolutely was not helping your mood. Tiny little footsteps echoed after yours, but you didn't want to look behind at all. "Howard, hurry UP!"

"What do you want me to do, fly?" you turned beet red when he said that. 

"Well, if you can, go ahead."  you bit the inside of your cheek, and looked to your sides. You wanted to find a spot which you could quickly hide in, and it should fit the two of you well. You walked quicker to try to find a good enough location. 

He jogged in front of you and stopped you. You resisted slapping him, but you still glared at him, because imagine seeing a 7-year-old slapping her friend outside of racing trains. "What's going on with you? You were fine just a second ago, Queenie!"

In turn, rolled your eyes. "Maya Jones is right, you are blind."

Howard looked at you like he offended. Good. He was an idiot. Maybe if he stopped counting raindrops and looked around, he'd see so much of the world and all the people surrounding him. And also see if they were good or bad.

He said, "Maya Jones is really mean, you know. She said that you talk weird. You don't, though. I like how you talk."

What Maya Jones said about you really didn't matter. You weren't interested in being disrespected by someone you lowered your standards for, but hey, who were you to judge the "popular" girl?

"Thank you for being so kind, Hal, but honestly, if you paid enough attention to the people on the train, you would've noticed that weird man following us."  You turned around to see that the bespoke creep was at the end of the passage, slowly making his way to you. "Speak of the devil." you sighed. 

Naturally, Howard had no clue what was going on, and in his usual idiotic way, said. "He's dapper, that's for sure." 

You stomped on his foot and hissed into his ear. "Run, you idiot, forget about his stupid clothes already."

He got the hint, grabbed your arm, and led you through a concealed tunnel which you had encountered plenty of times. You just hoped that the darkness was enough to conceal you both properly, and for ONCE in your life, you actually appreciated it, and you weren't terrified out of your wits. When you reached the end of the tunnel, you reached a dead-end, and almost ran into it if Howard hadn't stopped you. 

He whispered in the dark, "Let's go back."

But when you turned around, the man was there, in front of you you again...

You startled awake with a jerk when you heard a soft crunch outside your tent. How long had you been asleep? The sun returned to its envious illumination once again, but the sky remained bleak. So, not too long. 

You swiftly pulled out the knife pressed into your chair, and emerged slowly towards the curtain, cautious in every step, obliterating the sense of any sound. 

A simply, "Hey" was enough to boil your blood and provide the impulse, which you did not control this time, to drag the speaker in by the ear and reel back to slap him. 

"Yeah, I kinda deserved that."

You gripped your knife tighter, debating whether or not to stab him right here and end all means of torment. But would losing the job you fought for and facing Colonel Philips' rage really be worth squashing in insubordinate fly?

"I'm not even surprised, seeing your history. What, you have a hidden camera in here tracking my every moment as well, or is that an inconvenience of the past?" you spat. "What new genius invention have you brought into this world?"

He took a deep breath and... still didn't look at your face. You were extremely grateful to this right now. Just one step and you could decapitate him. "I brought forgiveness. If you'll accept that, then-"

"It is hilarious of you to think that I'll follow your conceited schemes."

His eyes snapped to your face, but he realised it was a mistake. If looks could kill, he'd be dead by now. He watched you silently as a million thoughts raced through your head. 

"I-"

"Save it, Stark. I knew you had a thing for women, but I honestly didn't think you'd go this far."

His head dropped down to the ground, and he stared thoughtlessly at his feet. "Look, I just wanted to make sure you were alright." he mumbled. 

"By spying on me?" you shot back, gripping the knife tighter. "Do you really think you have any right to do that?"

"No."

You clenched your teeth, exhaling sharply and remaining fixated on his incredibly punchable face. Who did he think he even was?

"You're not a spy, Howard. You're not even a soldier. You technically just breached regional security. You weren't supposed to find out about the trial missions."

"Yeah, but-"

"But WHAT?!"

He hesitated before asking again. "They'd need my weapons anyway. I'd find out sooner or later."

You gripped the knife, turned around, and slammed it onto the wooden post behind you. "Howard, if we were to fire every nuke in the world to destroy it, do you think the basis of it would be the fact that the world was going to end sooner or later?" You stepped closer to him. "And if I were to kill you right now, you were going to die sooner or later. Why not just speed up the process?"

He gulped, and looked almost... apologetic. Weird. Howard was never the type to swallow his pride and say 'sorry'. "I came back just now, Colonel Philips just told me about the trial missions. You've got nothing to worry about, Helen."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, good, because if anyone were to spill their entire life's secrets in my tents, they'd be safe with you."

"I didn't mean to-"

"Before you even finish that sentence, just leave. I can't, for the love of god, deal with you at this moment. If you don't want to be murdered in cold blood, I suggest you stay away from me for tomorrow, at the least."

It took him a moment to process this, but finally, he nodded, and trudged slowly to the door, agonizingly slow seconds ticking by. He paused in front of the tent curtain, and muttered softly, "I'm sorry." and walked away into the darkness. 

You stood there staring at the curtains for how long, you weren't sure. Soon daylight flooded the tent, and you knew you had to go.

A/N: Confession time. The 'flashback' was written when I was 8 years old. Yeah. 8 years old. I might have kind of sort of maybe rewritten most of my cousin's version of this. Most of these ideas were mine, but obviously I couldn't actually write it, because it looked like the flashback thingy I just wrote, which has been HEAVILY edited. My cousin was 15 when she wrote most of the story, but mostly the chapters were really short. 

Also. THIS IS MY LONGEST CHAPTER. 6120 words. 

For you,