Owner	Pose
Finley Ellison	Finley and Ava do not stop for burgers. No, instead Finley loads a barely conscious Ava into the waiting car and drives them home. The ride to the warehouse is silent. Whether Ava feigns sleep to avoid a lecture or truly succumbs to her exhaustion, Finley doesn't care. She doesn't bother to waste her anger and frustration ranting at an unconscious woman. She splits her time between silently fuming and glancing at Ava with worried concern. When they arrive, Finley puts her partner straight to bed. And then sits down to watch and wait. "What the hell, Ava?" she mutters under her breath.
Ava Starr	Ava is not generally given to sleeping in cars or on transports -- unless there's no other choice. The fact she fades in and out of consciousness during the ride is evidence of that; she doesn't *want* to sleep, but her body doesn't give her much of a choice. Indeed, if it weren't for the Ghost suit she wears, and its ability to mimic the effects of the QEC to a smaller degree than the box they're going to need to reconstruct (thanks to Rocket's curiosity), she'd probably be awash with prismatic afterimages as the quantum tides tried to rip her asunder. When the q-bands are fully charged, they don't affect her nearly as much. With the bands depleted? A new QEC is probably a higher priority now than it was before the space slime. That becomes apparent when Finley starts to remove the suit and discovers that Ava's monitoring pendant is pulsing a soft red, rather than its usual crystalline blue. Leaving the suit on, is obviously the best call. Taking the pendant to download the readings and then returning it to Ava's chest is probably the next best call. At least, Finley will have something to do that's actually vaguely productive while Ava sleeps it off -- a direction that allows her to channel her worry into something somewhat proactive. By the time Ava stirs, the pendant has shifted from red to orange, heading towards a golden yellow that indicates caution, not crisis. The q-bands have recharged enough that the quantum tides are kept mostly at bay. Well enough, anyway, that Ava no longer tosses restlessly in her sleep. She awakens slowly, with a wince and flex of her spine as her body protests the bulk of the suit -- sleek as it is -- built up around it. A disgruntled groan escapes her throat, though she makes no true noise of protest. It's not the first time she's awakened in her suit like this. It won't likely be the last. At least the mattress doesn't suck.
Finley Ellison	Finley's head snaps up at sound. She's perched at the edge of the bed, analyzing the pendant's data. But she pauses her work to shoot a worried glare over the edge of her laptop. She still doesn't trust herself to speak. Ava must know that she's pushed herself too far with that stunt.
Ava Starr	Oh, Ava knows. She can feel it in every single one of her cells. She hasn't felt this bad in months. She also, however, knows better than to protest it. She knew, as waves of acidic space snot passed through the ship, her body, and the bodies of her teammates, that she was pushing it further than she ever had before. Maybe even too far. But there was no way she was going to leave Fin hanging out there. So, she pushed right up to the edge of too far. It had to happen sometime. She inhales a slow, deep breath, using the action and the air to allow her to focus and try to pull herself together. It hurts. The only sign of the pain, though, is the tightening of the lines around her eyes and the faint crease to her brow that's been absent in recent weeks. Still, it's a familiar pain. One she can bear. Cautiously, she tries to sit up.
Finley Ellison	"No," Finley says. It's a singular declarative statement. She doesn't move from her perch yet, but if Ava stubbornly continues to try to push her body, which is barely holding itself together, she will have no choice but to intervene. She spares a quick glance to the pendant to check her levels.
Ava Starr	There is an implacableness in Finley's tone and demeanor that Ava has never experienced before. Her eyes narrow slightly and she grows still... more like she's expecting an attack -- because that's what that sort of tone has brought on in the past. A few heartbeats pass. No immediate attack comes. The pendant is an orangy-yellow, more cautious than crisis still. She's holding together. Or the suit is holding her together. Or maybe the slowly recharging q-bands. Or some combination thereof. As heartbeats stretch out into minutes, her lips press together firmly. "Water," she says softly, fatigue and tension warring in her voice. "I need water." She probably needs gatorade, really. But water's a good start. And it tastes better than gatorade.
Finley Ellison	Nodding, Finley sets her computer aside and rises from the bed. She disappears to the kitchen area and returns with water, an electrolyte tablet dissolving at the bottom of the glass. She very gently helps arrange Ava into a supported sitting position before handing her the drink. Then stifling a weary sigh, she rests against the edge of the bed. "Anything else?" she asks.
Ava Starr	Mutely, Ava shakes her head. She's not willing to push for anything more, despite the fact she'll need food before too long. She expended a lot of energy. She takes the glass from Fin and lifts it faintly, giving a nod of thanks, the word coming out more as a soundless mouthing than anything audible. She takes a sip, grimacing faintly at the taste of the tablet dissolving within, but makes no complaint. Indeed, she actually manages to down at least half of it before she carefully sets it on the table beside her.
Finley Ellison	Finley waits, quietly watching her. She doesn't go back to her computer at the foot of the bed. She doesn't move. She just waits, arms folded across her chest.
Ava Starr	Ava never had a disapproving parent. Hers died when she was too young. Her memories of them are fond, if a little painful, smoothed and beautified by years of absence and longing. So, Finley's pose and glower translates instead into 'angry handler', which, in Ava's world, always means trouble. Usually, she knows where she went off-script and pissed off the brass. Usually, she doesn't care. This time... she's not as sure. She's sure it has *something* to do with the way they defeated the slime planet -- it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out -- but she's not exactly sure what. She never left Finley's side. She kept them all safe. Yes, she also used more power than she's ever been able to before. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. But she did what needed to be done, and she survived to tell about it. That's always been what she's *supposed* to do. She did what she was supposed to do. So, as the silence stretches out, Ava simply watches Finley. Her body does not relax, but remains tense. Fight or flight. The only reason she is still tangible, still visible, is because her suit actually prevents her fading away when her energy levels are quite this low. And because Finley has never offered her harm before now. That doesn't mean she isn't bracing for it. Her expression isn't repentant. It's wary and mistrustful in a way it hasn't been since the very early days the pair spent together -- when Finley was freshly assigned by the Triskelion to 'fix her', before they'd proven themselves to each other. Ava is suddenly and inexplicably afraid. She doesn't like it. It pisses her off.
Finley Ellison	Finley's not the brass, not a parent, not a handler. She's *supposed* to be Ava's partner. But it sure feels like Ava's forgotten what that means. The two of them against the universe, huh? She watches the recalcitrant, stubborn scowl solidify on Ava's face. Finley wants to yell, wants to shake her, wants to make her hurt because she's hurting. But as she looks at her lover, sees the feral anger and fear and defiance, her shoulders slump. The energy necessary to maintain her anger evaporates. "What else do you need?" she asks softly. Then before Ava can speak, some of Finley's fierceness returns. "And you're not getting out of that suit until you're stable. So no shower till then. And you're sleeping in it, too... I can take the couch." She glares at Ava again, her eyes wet, her face pinked with emotion. "So what do you need that doesn't require taking off the suit?"
Ava Starr	Ava somehow manages to look nonplussed, despite her own roil of unsettled emotions. Indeed, though the angry fear lingers, there's genuine confusion in her dark green eyes. She can see the tears in Finley's eyes, her own anger and fear. But Ava doesn't know how to respond to that. "Nothing," she replies. Her tone carries a note of trepidation and caution, beneath the blunt recalcitrance. She doesn't tell Finley not to use the couch. She suspects not even her suit is strong enough armour against Finley's reaction to that, though she doesn't quite understand why Finley is as upset as she is. She did what she's supposed to do. They both did, in fact. Finley piloted the jet through an impossible storm, trusting her and Carol to keep them safe. Lews, Drew, and Erickson pulled their weight, too. It was a successful op. They did what they were supposed to do. Finally, her frustration breaking, fear sublimated into anger, tears locked away where they can't escape and prove her vulnerable, she asks helplessly, "What did I do wrong?"
Finley Ellison	"You pushed yourself to the point of instability. You drained your q-bands," Finley says, her expression softening. "You could have died, Ava. I haven't had time to rebuild the QEC. That suit is all that's been holding you together until the q-bands started recharging." Her crossed arms have morphed into a hug, gripping her own torso."You're not expendable. You're important. You matter. And you're not alone. Why didn't you ask Carol for a boost? Why didn't you explain your plan with enough time to modify for support? Why...why did you risk yourself like that?" Finley stares into Ava's eyes, refusing to look away.
Ava Starr	Ava blinks, still nonplussed. But at least she has someplace to start. "Carol had her own job to do." She sounds a little surprised, uncertain. "She had to supercharge those missiles and help shield the ship. And she can't make things intangible. Only I can. It's quantum energy, not cosmic..." She frowns, though it's less anger and fear, now. The confusion's still there, but muted somewhat. "We were running out of time, Fin. And the only other plan we had was to throw a fire extinguisher at it. I don't know that there's much we could have done to finesse it." Slowly... slowly her brain works down through what Finley's actually saying. "I..." Her brows crease. She meets Finley's eyes and somehow manages to look strangely vulnerable and defensive at the same time. "I did what I've been trained to do, Fin. Eliminate the target." Getting out alive was never guaranteed, but she did that, too. "And we all survived. I promised you we would... and we did."
Finley Ellison	"The gauntlets are cosmic, Ava. And they're what keep you from dissipating into nothingness. So there must be some sort of subatomic conversion. You were reckless. Unnecessarily. You know, maybe I owe Astro an apology. I blamed him for his bone-headed 'experiment' but you agreed to it. You're so eager to endanger yourself in service to your powers. I thought it was you and me against the universe. How's that supposed to work? When you don't care if you die and leave me alone..." Finley's crying now. And she hates herself for it. But she can't stop. So she can't stop talking either. "You're so angry about your training, about what SHIELD did to you. So why do you think they were right about you? What's the point? What's the point of building all of this with me--" and she gestures to the loft and the blueprints of the floor plans they've been working on-- "if you engage with danger as suicidally as possible?"
Ava Starr	"Wai-wha--what?" Ava stutters, truly baffled now -- especially as Finley begins to cry. She's standing too far away for Ava to reach for her without getting up, which only means Ava struggles to kick off the blankets and move. Not that she actually thinks Finley wants to be touched right now. But she doesn't think she can handle this sort of a conversation sitting down, wrapped in a blanket. God knows she's dealt with more pain than she's feeling right now. "What are you ta-- I wasn't--" She stops, legs curled up as she tries to figure out how to move to her feet or at least away from the pillows and blankets. Her face scrunches up into a flummoxed scowl as she tries to sort through everything Finley says, sort through the tears she doesn't know how to handle, and sort through the muddle of all it in her brain. "I was doing my *job*, Finley," she says, opening her eyes and looking up at her partner. "We *both* were. You flew the jet. It wasn't suicide, it was a *mission*. Dangerous, yes, but we did what we had to do to eliminate the threat." She rakes a gloved hand through the top of her hair. "I don't understand."
Finley Ellison	"And out of the entire team, who's the person who decided her job description involved extending herself to the point of instability and collapse? Who is the only person on the entire *team* in danger right now? No one else is in too much pain to move." Finley's pacing now. "I know you don't trust people, but fucking hell, Ava. You're a smart woman. Do you really think that was the best use of the entire team's skills and resources? Yes, it worked, I grant you it worked. But you've been stable for so long now, I'm not prepared -- we're not prepared -- get you put back together. There's no QEC. I've got the shell of a quantum tunnel down there and a suit I have to pray won't malfunction because there's not another one and I can't repair it while you're in it. And I'd really *like* to be freaking out about the whole nanite space suit armor thing that happened to *me* by the way. But I *can't* because my brain won't stop listing every single thing that could go wrong with the technology keeping you alive. And what I'm going to do if you're stubborn enough to become space dust. Do you even have a will?"
Ava Starr	"Yes!" Ava says, finally pushing herself to her feet. She almost sways, but her spine stiffens. She's dealt with this physical feeling before. She's not so far out of practice she's forgotten how. "Yes, I did. I thought it was the best use of our resources. I asked *Carol*! She agreed. You *had* to fly the plane. Lewis had to man the hyperdrive. Drew was on the weapons. Erickson was making sure the hull breaches were sealed. What else could we have done? All we had was a bloody fire extinguisher, otherwise." She crosses over to Finley, reaching out to lay her hands on her upper arms and hold her still. Not, mind, that she expects the woman to stay within her grasp for more than a heartbeat. But Ava is fully capable of maneuvering around the loft, even with the pendant gleaming a sallow orange-yellow. She's been worse. "Bloody hell, Ellison. Do you think I *planned* to expend that much energy? The damned jet is *half* the size of the Milano. I had no reason to think I couldn't do it. And every reason to make sure I did!" She looks into Finley's tearstained face, her own eyes showing the depth of her distress, even if she's not crying. "I was trying to keep *you* in one piece. If I'd stopped, even for a moment, you'd have been drowned in acid. Fuck the rest of them, Finley. I was trying to keep the thing from killing *you*." Her shoulder's slump and she pushes away, hands coming up to fist behind her head. "Yes. I have a will. I was a bloody disposable asset for over a fucking decade. Of *course*, I have a will. I update it before every mission, Finley. Every. Single. One. I always have. I just didn't have to change it much before now." She turns back around. Her hand lays flat on a nearby table, a subtle support. "I will recharge." She taps the pendant on her chest. "See? It's recharging. The bands have been low on energy before." After phasing the Milano. "But they recharged. Maybe I shouldn't count on that, but I didn't see any other way. And maybe it shouldn't have, but it worked. I promised you I'd make it out, and I did. I did my best, Finley. I did everything I knew how to do." Her dark eyes look Finley up and down, a scowl returning to her brow in her reciprocal concern. "You said the nanites were safe, now. You said you reprogrammed them so they won't kill you. They protected you... That's good, isn't it?"
Finley Ellison	Finley stiffens at Ava's touch. If she could pull herself out of phase and let Ava pass through her, she would. But she can't. Ava is solid. Finley stops pacing. She starts counting on her fingers. "Change the chemical payload of the missiles to a more reactive compound. Desicate it. Harden the exterior shell until it explodes under its own internal pressure. Make me fly a bit more creatively rather than straight through the damned thing." Her face softens, pained. "You aren't disposable, Ava," she says quietly. "You're irreplaceable." Finley sighs and rubs her face. "And you should really get back in bed and let yourself recharge. I'm fine. I'll be fine. The nanites won't kill me. They didn't kill me. It's fine."
Ava Starr	"Flying straight through was the fastest way from point a to point b," Ava sighs. "It would ensure the shortest amount of time I'd have to sustain the phase. Carol simply augmented the missile charge with cosmic energy. " Indeed, the pendant data shows Ava was transferring most of the cosmic energy her bands could channel into quantum energy -- using it as both a phase state and thrust. "I didn't suggest we try to change their chemical makeup because I didn't know we could. Okay. You're the engineer. Maybe you could have. But we were running out of time. I don't know how to do any of those things. And I don't think we had time, in any case. All I really know is how to hit things and sabotage things. I'm sorry that I don't play well with a team, Finley. I did my best." She moves to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at Finley with resignation in her eyes. Her hand lifts, reaching out for her. "Sit with me. Please." There's more to say, yes. More apologies to be made and feelings to sort through. And she's not good at either. But she doesn't want to do that if Finley's still too upset to listen. Or if she herself is too overwhelmed to absorb what she's being told. So, she waits, hand outstretched, apprehension in her green eyes.
Finley Ellison	Running her fingers through her hair, Finley gathers the mane away from her face and sighs again. She comes to lean on the edge of the bed nearby Ava. Still unsettled, still ready to bolt. "You could have asked Carol to bolster your gauntlets," she says again, returning to her first and most practical suggestion. The air around her shimmers like a heat haze. Finley doesn't notice. Can't feel the nanites crawling out of her cells. Her skin shivers, burning with the adrenaline that fuels her panic and anger, the fear that engenders her hurt. She doesn't know how to tell Ava that this is all her own fault. That she should have been better prepared; should have back ups and fail safes in place. She shouldn't have encouraged Ava to rely on the gift of the q-bands. She shouldn't be operating without a QEC *and* a spare suit. And probably also a portable stasis chamber. Or maybe some sort of quantum backup battery? Which, okay, that sort of describes the q-bands. So a backup backup battery. Maybe a cosmic battery? Finley bites her bottom lip, momentarily lost in protective redundancies.
Ava Starr	Ava lets her hand fall away. Standing near is better than an outright rejection. "Maybe I could have, but-- Fin?" Her words break of as she senses not just the strange heat shimmer but the energetic workings of the microscopic little buggers in Finley's system. Her tone contains a sharp spike of concern. She pushes back to her feet, gloved hands hovering over Finley's shoulders. "Finley? What are the nanites doing?" Her tone is sharper, now. She's afraid to touch Finley outright, but she wants to pull her away from the strange energy fluctuations, too -- not, she knows, that she can. "You said they were safe!"
Finley Ellison	Finley blinks, focus broken. "What are you talking about?" she asks, confused. The shimmer turns matte, wrapping Finley in a protective camouflage, projecting the background through her, rendering her invisible -- except, of course, Ava can sense the machines working. Finley can tell that *something* has happened. But unlike the restrictive exoskeleton of the armored space suit, the cloud doesn't bind her, doesn't impede her vision. So she can see the fear flicker in the other woman's eyes. "Ava?"
Ava Starr	Finley's voice doesn't come from anywhere different. And the machines are still burning energy -- quantum, cosmic, something more than simple bioelectricity. Ava's eyes narrow and her hands drop heavily straight down... right onto Finley's shoulders. She lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding, relief on her features and in her voice. "They turned you invisible." Her hands fall away and she closes her eyes for a moment, letting out another soft breath. Then, tension returns to her expression, brow beetling again. "They turned you *invisible*." Ava knows that she can end up phasing or turning invisible when she subconsciously wants to -- usually because of fear or upset. Whenever she doesn't want to be found or bothered. It's not hard to imagine that the nanites are reacting to Finley's upset now in the same fashion. She backs up a step or two, bumping against the bed and sitting on it heavily. She tugs on the front of her hair briefly, before setting her hands on the mattress. "Are you okay?"
Finley Ellison	"No?" Finley guesses from inside her defensive shroud. "I mean, I don't think I'm in danger of being consumed or exploded, if that's what you mean? I'm not physically damaged. But no, Ava, I'm not okay. I'm hurt and I'm scared. And I'm worried about you. So please get back into bed. I promise I'll come sit with you and we can talk. I might be invisible, but I won't disappear." The disembodied voice comes from the space Ava last saw and felt Finley
Ava Starr	Ava sighs, scrubbing her face briefly. She starts pulling on the fabric around her fingers. "Let me take my gloves and boots off," she says wearily. "They won't compromise the suit's integrity." She strips off the gloves and tosses them onto the side table before scraping her heels with her toes and loosening the boots before she bends to tug them off. They get set just in front of the table. It's only then, as comfortable as she can be in the armoured suit, that she shoves herself back on the bed and stretches out her legs. She leans her back against the pillows, her head against the wall, and doesn't bother with the blankets. Instead, she reaches for her water.
Finley Ellison	Ava finds the blankets over her toes when she turns back with her water. And she can sense the nanites energy signature nearby. Finley tries to calm her heart rate by breathing slowly and evenly, in hopes that steadying those biometrics will dissipate the swarm. It doesn't, but at least she feels a little better. "I'm right here," Finley says helpfully. "I'm not trying to...I mean, I don't know how to control them. I can't turn it off."
Ava Starr	The blankets flip over her toes and the mattress shifts at her feet as Finley settles upon it. Ava can sense the nanites buzzing like a riled swarm of gnats just at the edge of her awareness. She nods to Finley's words. "That makes sense," she says softly, "since you didn't know they could do that." A beat. "Did you?" She doesn't really think so. Just like how they made that amour suit around Finley quite spontaneously. It surprised Ava, but she was in the middle of a fight at the time, and didn't have time to panic about it then. And afterward, well... This *is* afterward. And she's at a loss. She has a feeling her partner isn't much better. To be fair, in the days after Finley's release from hospital, Ava was actually very concerned about the nanites. Once Fin said they were stable, they were fixed, she allowed herself to relax. After all, Finley understands those things better than she. Then, Lewis showed upon her doorstep, and with her a whole entourage of SWORD personnel. And she had no idea how to react. The fact she didn't boot them all out on their asses is testament to the small ways she's changed in recent months. Or maybe big ways. But she tolerated the intrusion far better than she could have. Let them suck her into a mission, even. Which, she reflects, was probably her mistake. She should have told Lewis and Agent McSlime to sod off. Find the Triskelion. That's what they're there for. She'd been out. She'd gotten away from SHIELD. From HYDRA. All of it... But she felt she owed SHIELD *something* for saving Finley's life. Owed Lewis. So, she put up with it all. Let them suck her back in. Because someone said she's the bloody Protector of the Universe and... maybe that's a way to balance the scales. Make up for the less noble shit she's done in her life. Now, as she sits here, staring at where the wall joins the ceiling far across the room, she's sure she should have found some other way to settle her debts. She never wanted to be Protector fo the Universe, anyway. And Finley would never have been infected with nanites if they'd never left the damned planet. How the hell did Vell sell her on that idea in the first place? Ava reaches up to rub the deep crease between her eyes. Desperation is a terrible thing. "I'm sorry." This is all her fault.
Finley Ellison	"I don't really know *what* they do," Finley says. "The damned things are programmed in Kree. I found the error that killed the scientist is all. The armor seemed like a probable option, but..." Finley shrugs, not that Ava can see. "I mean you can always stab me and we can see if they have a battle medic program?--"
Ava Starr	"I'm not stabbing you!" Ava snaps, cutting her off. Her middle-distance stare turns into a sharp glare focused in the general vicinity of the nanite signature and depression in the mattress. She suppresses the urge to swear. It won't help.
Finley Ellison	"You'll have to wait till I'm visible again. Hard to hit what you can't see--" her laugh is mirthless. "And while you probably *could*, you wouldn't be able to observe the results. And mine would be considered compromised. Wait, why won't you stab me? I watched someone try to suffocate you. I monitored the dropping oxygen levels. And there's more likelihood that the bots have some sort of healing capabilities than that you don't need oxygen." Finley's really not letting that airlock experiment go.
Ava Starr	"Astro was a fucking ass, and you know it," Ava retorts. "You've said it often enough yourself." She pushes up away from the pillows and curls her legs, turning so she's sitting with them over the side. "Besides," she continues. "Astro's not the one you've got a problem with." She pushes to her feet, leaving Finley sitting on the bed -- or, at least, the sense of her. Her footsteps are heavy, sharp, and determined. She heads for the locker in which a lot of her mercenary gear is stored. Palming open the lock with a scan of her bare hand, she yanks the door open, pulls out a 9mm, a field knife, and a sap. Without missing a beat, she marches them back to the bed and tosses them down where she was sitting moments before, fairly certain Finley isn't there. "There," she says. "Take your pick. Take all of them. I don't fucking care. You're right. I don't give a *shit* what happens to me. I've been a walking dead woman for a very long time. You want to get mad? You wanna pick a fight? That's fine. Pick a weapon. Fists. Club. Blade. Gun. I don't fucking care. I won't even hit back, so your nanites shouldn't get their panties in any worse bunch than they are now. You wanna hit something? You wanna fight? Fine. Hit me. I won't even see it coming."
Finley Ellison	When the weapons hit the bed, Finley catches her breath, afraid she's pushed Ava too far. But she keeps staring at the knife. She really *does* want to run the bots through their paces. Will they maintain invisibility and armor at the same time? Can she even test for healing or will the armor stop her? How can she activate them without imperiling herself? If she picks up the knife will it disappear? "I don't want to hit you, Ava," Finley tells her finally. "I want you to stop acting like you're already dead. I don't want to make love to a corpse. *I* care about what happens to you. And if I matter at all to you, that has to be important. You're not dying. Not any more than the rest of us. And maybe less so now. Unless you do something abysmally stupid and break everything trying to keep you alive. Including me." Ava can hear the tears thickening her voice. Finley curls into a tight ball, arms around her shins, chin in her knees. "Either we can build a future together or you can keep acting like you don't have one. But you have to choose. I can't do both."
Ava Starr	"Then stop trying to pick a fight with me!" Ava sweeps the weapons, knife included, off the bed. They clatter and thunk. The gun doesn't discharge... because it's empty. She didn't bring a magazine with it. (She's not *totally* stupid.) She spins back around, looking for the depression in the mattress, trying to get some sense of where Finley is. She can hear the distress, the tears, the anger. But she can't *see* her. "Oh, for *fucksake*," she growls, mostly to herself. Her eyes close for a moment and a wave of quantum energy -- probably energy she *shouldn't* expend recklessly -- *PULSES* out of her. It ripples like a sonar signal through the loft, pinging back at her until she can see Fin's form glowing from both the nanites' reaction and the interaction of the wave. No one else, but someone like Carol, would see her... but it's an old trick Ava learned a very long time ago during her rare games of hide-and-seek. "There you are," she sighs. She crawls back onto the bed, foot kicking the knife a little further away as she does. (Still not totally stupid.) She reaches out to hold Finley -- if she'll let her. Part of her braces for a slap or a shove or a punch, as she does. "Stop," she says gently, though her voice is rough. "We both need to stop. I don't have the energy to fight with you, Finley. And that's all you've wanted to do since I woke up. Obviously, I've missed something. So, please. Take a deep breath and explain to me where all this is coming from. I get that I scared you. And I'm sorry about that. I really am. But I didn't do it on purpose, luv. I swear I didn't. I did what I thought I needed to do, I did what I was trained to do. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should have done something different. But I didn't. I'm sorry."
Finley Ellison	"To be fair," Finley says, "I've wanted to fight you since before you woke up, but fighting with an unconscious person is not satisfying." Easy maybe, but deeply unsatisfying. "It's not that you took a big risk. It's not that you did something dangerous, I swear. It's that your training doesn't value *you*. Your survival is a bonus. You're used to working on your own, relying on only what you can do. And probably the only reason you're not dead is the sheer number of your ops that were retrievals." Finley sighs, body slumping into Ava's arms. "You're not disposable. You're not expendable. You're not already dead. And when you think in those terms, you don't consider support options for *you*. You go until you can't and then I need to be able to pick up the pieces and put you back together. What if I can't? What if I can't save you from yourself, Ava? Then I will have to watch you die. And it will be my fault because I didn't do my damned job."
Ava Starr	Ava frowns faintly, but holds Finley close, regardless. "First of all," she says quietly, "the reason I'm not dead is because *intangible* is my natural state." She taps the chest piece of her suit. "This thing has emergency protocols that force me tangible and visible when I'm unconscious. My handlers wanted that for obvious reasons." To save her life? Maybe. Because they certainly can't help her if they can't figure out where she is or lay hands on her. But probably just as much so they could have some way to control her. "And secondly... It's not your job to put me back together. Or save me from myself." She strokes Finley's hair. "I'm not saying *don't* put me back together, or try to save me from myself. I'm saying it's not your fault if I do something stupid and get myself killed for it, okay?" She shakes her head. "Because what I do *is* dangerous. And thanks to these god damned bands, the chances of me facing down something like that slime again are very, very high. I don't *want* to face that shit down, Finley. I wish we'd never gone to space. I hate that you've been hurt by it. And I don't want cosmic energy powers like Captain Marvel. I don't know how to use them. I'm making mistakes all over the place. I hate it. But, I've got them. And I've got to learn. And maybe the field's the wrong place for that, but I really did think I could handle what I was pushing myself to do. If I can make a difference with these bloody things, make up for some of the shit I've had to do, I'm going to try. I have to try." She leans her head against Finley's. "I don't have a deathwish, Finley. Not really. But you're right. My training makes it seem like I do. You had field training. You know how things become second nature with enough repetition. This was the first time we were on a genuine mission together. The shit on the Milano doesn't count. There was no plan, there. The best thing either of us could do, in that situation, was ride shotgun and stay the hell out of the way." Her lips twitch into a sardonic smile. "The first thing I did on that friggin' op against Thanos and his crew was find a sniper perch. Then, Phyla-Vell went and got herself killed... and everything went to hell." A soft sigh escapes her. "I wish every mission could be a sniper perch. They're quiet. Boring. No one's usually trying to burn your face off. Most of the time, they don't even know to look for you. But that's not going to be what we're offered going forward. Not now that they think I'm Captain Marvel Lite. Do you want me to turn them down? Because I will... For you, I will. The only reason I went along with any of that was because I figured we owed Lewis." None of this, she knows, addresses the real heart of the matter, however. "But Finley... You're asking me to change decades of thinking and training virtually overnight." She lifts a hand, holding up two fingers. "I can count on one hand the number of people in this world who give the least god damn about me. There's two. Bill. And you. And Bill's in San Francisco, right now." "You and me, we've spent a lot of the last several months in a bubble that was so far removed from everything I've ever known before. It's easy to think that I could have a quiet life like that. But the truth is, Finley, I don't know *how*. I'm still learning. And maybe I'm a slow learner. You know I can't listen for shit. And I suck at following orders very closely. Just... give me a chance, okay? Please. I don't know how to do what you're expecting."
Finley Ellison	"One," Finley says, holding up an invisible finger. "It *is* my literal actual job to put you back together again. I'm your mechanic. I'm your pit crew. And you just went for a test drive and almost blew out the engine and I don't have a mobile garage unit. And yes that's a *terrible* metaphor, I know. But at least it's one where you're not dead at the end of it.  And two there's a difference between intangible and blown to the edge of the universe because the quantum flux has pulled your molecules apart. It's the latter I'm trying to avoid." Slowly her grip on her own body starts to relax. "I'm not asking you to not do it. I'm not asking you to give it up. And I'm not asking for overnight. But I need you to realize that what happens to you *does* matter. So I want you to be prepared. I want *us* to be prepared. I gotta be prepared for the stupid shit, Ava. Which means the right tools. Which we don't have. Because a raccoon took it apart. Because I haven't built a new one. Because I'm infested with tiny machines I can't control. And I have no idea what the energy expenditure is for this nonsense I can't turn off." She yawns. "So maybe don't push farther than you ever have even if you think you can when I don't have anything better at my disposal than inaccessible cosmic energy and hope. Can we agree on that? You will do stupid shit and I will put you back together. But let's get set up to do that first. Please? If it's you and me against the universe, it's got to be you and me in it together. Not you with me in your cosmic wake. Okay?"
Ava Starr	"We've got to get you a better job," Ava murmurs. Even so, she nods. "In my defense, it's not my fault a giant space slime didn't wait until we were ready. But, yes. We'll tell SWORD, SHIELD, and the rest of the universe to bugger off until we're good and ready. I can live with that." Literally. "Happily." She lays her cheek against Finley's and dares a hint of a smile. "We'll build our fortress, spend a fortune, and then go out to..." Conquer the universe? No... That defeats the whole ?protector' gig. "A really good pub and utterly wankered on someone else's dime." A brief chuff of breath. "First, though... we've to learn Kree and figure out the damned off-switch on all these bloody alien gizmos trying to hijack us." Finley's bots. Ava's bands. It's all the same to her -- alien whatsits dictating how things should be. Bugger that.
Finley Ellison	"If they try to rush us," Finley yawns, "we can make them foot the bill." She blinks sleepily. And something -- neither of the women know what -- triggers the nanites retreat. The cloaking field dissipates. And Finley is right there. Contemplating a secondary QEC on the roof, disguised as an artsy water tower.  With a central glass elevator as well as the traditional ladder access. For emergencies. She spares a glance at Ava's pendant, but with the fight and everything, Finley has no hopes that it will be yellowy-green ? the status that she deems safe enough for Ava to remove the suit.
Ava Starr	No. The pendant hasn't blossomed a single hint of green, yet. But it *is* more yellow than orange, now. So, that's progress. Perhaps in another couple of hours? Still, Ava breathes a soft sigh of relief as Finley's nanites retreat. Stubborn little buggers. She holds Finley close, regardless. The suit is an inconvenience, nothing more. As Finley yawns, though, Ava tugs at her gently. "Lay down," she suggests. "You've spent as much energy as me, by now. And I'd like the company." Reassurance, really. She gives a wry smile, a brow arching faintly -- not sarcastically or somehow askance, but with a cautious, speculative curiosity. "Tell me the one thing on Earth you've never done, but always wanted to do."
Finley Ellison	Finley tugs a blanket around her as she settles next to Ava. "The outside suit is tactilely unpleasant," she explains. "Sticky like vinyl but hard in unexpected places. *That's* why I was going to sleep on the couch." But she nestles in, burritoed in soft weight. "And, um, I don't know? Go out to a party or a concert and get caught up in an adventure and accidentally stay out until dawn?" She says it like she isn't sure that it's a real thing that people do.
Ava Starr	Ava can't argue about the suit. "I'll keep it wrapped," she says, tugging up a sheet to drape over herself. "So, a CW movie plot?" she teases lightly. She lays back against the pillows, now, beginning to relax just a little. "I'm pretty sure that's something we can accomplish." Somehow. Don't ask her what concert she'd go to. She has no idea. But she's pretty sure adventure will find them just by default. It has so far. "I want to learn to surf," she says, looking up at the ceiling. "I want to spend enough time on a white sand beach somewhere, without having to shoot anyone on it, that I could actually learn to surf. Or maybe just paddle board. I don't care. Australia, maybe. Or Hawai'i. California would do in a pinch."
Finley Ellison	"I missed the quintessential high school experience," Finley says, blushing. "And since you can quantum jump, we can go pretty much anywhere. So a beach sounds like an easy ask. So long as there is a parasol I can sit under, I'll watch you fall off a board all day."
Ava Starr	"I did, too," Ava admits. "I was 8 when my parents died." When ?SHIELD' took her in. There wasn't much room for regular education in a science lab. It's surprising, really, she didn't pick up on more science. There were tutors and tests and something that passed for school. But certainly not like other kids. "I missed pretty much everything after that."
Finley Ellison	"I was in high school when I was eight. Sort of. Not the same. I'm not saying it's the same. It's not at all the same. I guess I'm just saying we both missed a lot." Finley sighs and looks up at her, blue eyes large, eyebrows raised.
Ava Starr	Ava nods simply. She's always known Finley was far smarter than her. So she smiles briefly and looks down at her for a moment before returning her gaze to the ceiling. "Why would you even want to build a future with me, Fin?" she asks after a moment. "You could be anything. Go anywhere. Do anything. Why stick around here when it's nothing but trouble?"
Finley Ellison	"Because I love you. Because you want me?" Finley says, confusion stealing over her face. "What else would I do? Go back to SHIELD and invent a very fancy microchip? We went to *space*, Ava. Who else is gonna let me do that?" Finley tugs on Ava's sheet. "Why do you think you're nothing but trouble?"
Ava Starr	Ava shrugs. "I always have been. Professional pain in the ass. I'd say they trained me to be, but that'd be a lie. I did that just to screw with them." The almighty Them. "I'm not particularly loveable. I tend to be hostile and angry more than anything else. And if you hadn't been saddled with me, you might not have gone into space, no... but you wouldn't have alien micro murder bots running through your body, either."
Finley Ellison	"We fixed the murder part, I think. So they're just mystery bots," Finley shrugs. "And they'll probably be useful, once I can figure out how to make them work. And I don't find it particularly difficult to love you. Even when you terrify me with your lack of self-preservation."
Ava Starr	Ava lets out a soft chuff. It's not a scoffing noise, but neither is it acceptance, really. It's more a blunt acknowledgement that her question has been at least partially answered and she's not going to push for more. She offers a sheet draped arm to wrap around Finley. It'll be better when she can get out of the suit.
Finley Ellison	Finley doesn't have a better explanation. She doubts a lecture on the chemistry of attraction would be particularly convincing or well received. Nor does she think that explaining that love is an observable phenomenon will assuage Ava. Not even if she hooks herself up to a machine and shows her the readouts. So long as she's making the effort, and not throwing Finley out, it's enough. She presses her blanket burritoed body against her sheet wrapped lover. It will definitely be better when Ava can get out of the suit.