—chapter eleven:
suited and booted

"SUIT UP."

Jackson was seated at the round table in the briefing room again, however, this time two people were missing. Bruce and Thor were nowhere to be found, the two of them scattered somewhere over the Earth. They were God knows where. She looked down at her bare hands, and balled them into fists. With the pressure she accumulated, she saw a glint of her veins turn a bright blue. Eyes widening at the phenomenon, she quickly unclenched her fists and watched the glow dissipate and fade.

      Seated next to Steve, Jackson could feel the apprehension rolling off of him when Fury tossed something that looked like bloodied cards onto the table and said, "These were in Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them."

     Jackson picked one up off of the table and looked at it—they were Captain America trading cards. He was in his uniform, mask and all, saluting her, and looking as patriotic as ever.

    "We're dead in the air up here," Fury continued, "no communications, no location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming."

    Jackson heaved a sigh and put the trading card back onto the table. The silence was heavy as ever as everyone was processing what had just happened. Fury stopped behind Jackson's chair and went on. "Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. But I didn't really put a number on that as I was planning something riskier.

    "There was an idea. Stark knows this. Something called the 'Avengers Initiative.' The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to and to fight the battles that we never could.

    "Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes."

    Tony then stood up abruptly and walked away. Jackson could sense the tension coming off of him, seeing how stiff he was when he had stood up and left. Pushing against the table so the chair could roll back, Jackson got up and left, as well, and made a start for the lab.

    Everything was remotely intact, however still a mess. The screens were still working with a little bit of a wonkiness to them as an after effect from the explosion. The scepter was gone and in whoever's hands, Jackson could feel that it wasn't here or on the ship, to begin with. Her hand glossed over the workstation and came to a stop when her eyes landed upon the spot where she had gotten lost in her head from where her brain had been overridden with emotions. She got down slowly and sat in the same spot, her knees pulled to her chest and her thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion over her heart tattoo, trying to mimic some sort of comfort.

    Tears made their way to the surface as Jackson began to cry, tearing up because she didn't know what she had gotten herself into, weeping over the fact that she didn't know where Bruce was, the one person who made her feel safe.

    She let herself cry, though. It had been a while since she had her last sob session and everything that was going on around her stressed her out so it felt good to cry for once. It was healthy and it released endorphins to the brain to help alleviate some of the emotional pain that was going on within her.

    Once she stopped, she dried her eyes with the heels of her hands and got up. Making her way to the detention center once more, Jackson found Tony standing at where the glass cage used to be.

    "Hey," she said, stepping up next to him, looking down before looking at him, "you okay? I saw you storm out of the briefing room a little while ago."

    "I'm fine, Marie," Tony said, a little gruff. Jackson crossed her arms, amused and happy that he was still able to use some of his humor.

    There was the sound of footsteps and Jackson turned around to Steve coming in. "Was he married?" he asked, referring to Coulson.

    "No ring," Tony answered, pausing to think, "there was a, uh, cellist, I think."

    Steve nodded. "He must've been a good man."

    "He was an idiot," Tony retorted, stepping down and meeting Steve.

     "Why?" Steve questioned, "For believing?"

    "For going against Loki alone."

    "He wasn't alone," Jackson piped up, walking down the steps to get to them. They both turned to look at her, surprised with her answer. "I was with him," she continued, "I saw it all happen. I did my best to keep Loki from killing Coulson and it seemed to have been working but Loki overpowered me at the last moment and— " a choked sob cut Jackson off, feeling everything that had happened begin to rise, "— and I was too late. I'm so sorry." Her voice broke at the end as more tears were coming and she forced them away.

    Tony walked over and pulled her into a hug, trying his best to calm her, but the underlying anxiety Jackson was feeling from him wasn't helping. "Did I kill Coulson?" she whimpered, letting the apprehension get to her. Tony pulled her back at arms' length, shocked that she would even think such a thing. "Of course you didn't. You did your absolute best and I can't thank you enough, Jackson."

    Jackson sniffled, smiling a little. "You must be serious because you used my real name. You like me, you really like me."

    Tony rolled his eyes, however still amused, and they landed on the dried bloodstain on the wall where Coulson had been. "He made it personal."

    "That's not really the point," Steve started but then Tony cut him off. "That is the point, that's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?"

    "To tear us apart."

    "Yeah, divide and conquer is great, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right?"

    "Right," Jackson agreed, nodding her head.

    "That's what he wants; he wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it. . .he wants an audience."

    "He does look like the kind of guy who would be into theatrics," Jackson added, "but it also plays into the lack of attention he got when he was growing up. So beating you guys up while everyone's watching. . .that's probably more than a couple years' worth of the attention and validation that he's been looking for since no one decided to give him the time of day."

    Tony tapped his nose, signaling that Jackson got it. "All of the other stuff? That was just the preview. This is opening night. Loki's a full-on diva—he wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built up in the skies with his name plastered— " Tony stopped when the lightbulb went off. He got it. "Son of a bitch." He was then racing out of the detention center, Steve and Jackson behind him.

    "Where are you going?" Jackson asked.

    "Field trip," Tony answered, "you coming?"

    "Do you even have to ask?"

    "Good. You and Steve are gonna roundup Clint and Natasha and then I'll meet you guys there."

    On the way down to the infirmary, Steve asked Jackson, "You have a suit?"

    "A suit for special occasions, yes," she answered, "but I don't think that's the kind of suit you're talking about."

    Steve shook his head. They then arrived at the appropriate infirmary room and Steve slid the door open. "It's time to go," he said to Natasha. "Go where?" she asked.

    "I'll tell you on the way. You know how to fly one of those jets?"

    The door to the bathroom hissed open and out walked Clint. "I can," he answered. Steve wavered for a moment, eyeing him, before looking over at Natasha and watching her nod her head, confirming. He then asked, "You got a suit?"

    "Yeah." Clint nodded.

    "Then suit up."

    Clint then pointed to Jackson with one of his arrows and asked, "Is she coming?"

    Jackson nodded firmly. "Yes, I am. Are you fit to fly the jets?"

    "I'm here, aren't I?"

    With that, they all left the infirmary. Before they boarded the jet, Jackson sifted through the pile of clean uniforms and pulled out a S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, a catsuit-like costume that wasn't quite skin-tight and yet still breathable. There was a gun holster attached to her thigh and a S.H.I.E.L.D eagle emblem pressed onto the left side of her, just above her breast. After pulling her hair into a dramatic high ponytail, they all made their way to the hangar and entered one of the open jets.

    A man who was working in it stood and said, "You can't be in here."

    Jackson then reached over, placed a hand on his forehead, and said, "Sleep." The worker fell to the floor, knocked out, and unconscious. She grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him out to lay him on the floor. She walked back into the jet to see everyone staring at her. "What?" she asked.

    "Since when could you do that?" Natasha questioned. Jackson shrugged. "I dunno. About three hours ago, I think?"

    They all blinked and went back to what they were doing and prepared for takeoff. Jackson closed the door to the jet while Clint booted it up and then they were ready to go. Natasha handed Jackson an earpiece and said, "Use this. It's a way for us to be able to keep in contact with each other."

    Jackson nodded and put the earpiece in, nodding when it felt comfortable enough that it wouldn't slip.

    "Alright, buckle up," Steve instructed, "we're in for a bumpy ride."

AUTHOR'S NOTE
this is where the fun begins