i hope you enjoy this. i know i said that i wasn't going to upload it until i was finished with the other series, but i couldn't help myself.

There was something spectacular about the human body. The way that it moved. The way the chest contracted and expanded with each breath. The battle scars of weight loss. The different shades of hair, different shapes of noses, different curves. The way that a woman's breasts were never the same size, unless of course, they were artificial; modified in a way to make everyone think they were handed down to her by the grace of genetics. None of them could hide the truth once their clothes came off, and they stood in the center of the room, contorted into the pose of the day.

Not that there was anything wrong with surgically modifying one's body for the sole purpose making it look better than it had before. The term didn't only categorize implants, and botox, and gastric bypass surgeries. It categorized something as simple as getting your hair dyed a different color than that of which you had been born with, or wearing makeup, or stuffing your bra. The point is that it doesn't matter how many things you do to yourself, once all of the clothes come off, and you're completely and utterly exposed, it's still your body. It's still you.

The woman in the middle of the room was young; Daisy, was her name. Her naked frame had been sketched before; laying on a white sheet, her limbs entangled with those of a young man. But today, the woman stood still- arms holding her hands under her chin, almost as if she was praying- alone, in front of a classroom of judgmental art students who claimed that drawing naked men and women was their passion. The psychology student, who only did this to pass the time, looked around the room at her peers. A majority of them she could tell had only taken this exact class because they most likely never got the chance to see a naked body in person; and the rest really were passionate about the art.

Her fingers smoothed over the lead lines she had drawn, leaving a dark grey smudge in the wake. It was a necessary evil in order for the finished product to be perfect- in order for Daisy to be perfect. In order for the shadows to make her drawing come to life, as if the woman on the paper could spring right from the page at any moment. Her fingers were always filthy; always covered in pencil dust, watercolor paints, and dried clay. So much so that she contemplated ways to invent a portable sink, because hand sanitizer never quite did the trick.

She looked up to the pale skinned subject of her portrait, and let her pencil roll from her fingers to the crease of her sketchpad. This was the point in her day that she wondered how Daisy had come to be here; not just here, in the art studio, but here in general. What choices did the naked girl make in her life that brought her to volunteer as being a model for sexualized young adults who didn't want to draw her, but touch her? It was the psychology aspect of her mind that made her wonder about everyone's life choices.

Even the boy sitting one easel away, who smelled of fryer grease and chicken nuggets. What was he searching for through his curly, black hair that fell in front of his eyes as he tried his hardest to make his portrait somewhat realistic? He probably likes anime, she thought as she studied the big, cartoon eyes and exceptionally large breasts of his Daisy. What were his aspirations? Where did he come from? Did he ever think of becoming something else?

When the class was dismissed and Daisy was stepping from the platform and slipping into a robe, and even after everyone had packed up their sketchpads and pencils, the psychology major still sat in her chair; staring at the grey woman in her book- just thinking about the universe, and her own decisions that brought her to be sitting here in this very moment. She wanted to be something else, once. At one point she wanted to be an astronaut, an actress, a crash-test dummy.

She packed up her own things, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder and tucking her pencil behind her right ear; a beat up copy of The Great Gatsby was held tightly to her chest. Her professor had given her a strange look, and she realized that there were more appropriate places to contemplate your entire existence that weren't in the dark corner of a classroom. He had asked her if she was alright, to which she just gave him a simple nod, and a small wave; leaving him with a promise of seeing him at the next class.

"Annelise Beck," the voice was too familiar. It made her stop dead in her tracks almost as soon as she exited the classroom. There were still a few straggling students littering the hallway, rushing to get to their next class. She was late herself. "I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to come out of there."

Her head turned the the left, eyeing the man who stood leaned against the wall next to a bulletin board of volunteer opportunities and club openings. "Well, look what the cat dragged in." Her tone was overly sarcastic, and her lips formed into a smile that wasn't at all genuine. "What do you want, Stark?"

The man smirked in her direction as his eyes watched the students in the hall dissipate. "No, 'hi, Tony', 'it's nice to see you, Tony'? You're always so nice to me whenever we have the pleasure of running into each other." He quipped, so talented when it came to witty banter. "What are you doing drawing naked people? I thought you were a psychology major?"

Her smile was genuine now; a set of pearly white teeth contrasting against the light pink of her lips. "I think you may have meant displeasure." She retorted. "And it's just a hobby." Her feet picked up the pace once again, carrying her in the direction of the bathroom so that she may wash the lead stains from her hands; leaving the man rushing to fall into step with her. "You didn't answer my question."

"Right, straight to the point. As usual." Tony mentioned. "Remember when I offered you a job, and you sent the letter back with a giant middle finger drawn on it?"

She laughed at the memory, stopping where she was as her head fell back in laughter. That was until she noticed the look on Tony's face; the look in his eyes. The pleading, puppy-dog pout that she should have expected from him. "No." She shook her head. "No way. I'm not going to sit around and listen to your little band of 'superheroes' whine about their problems all day. No. No amount of money in the world would talk me into that. Absolutely not." Before he even had a chance to reply, Annelise threw the bathroom door open. "It's been a real pleasure, Tony."

Her tote bag dropped to the floor at her feet as she shoved her sleeves to her elbows. If she had pumped the soap dispenser any harder, it might have fallen from the wall. Her thoughts were scrambled with the conversation she had just had with the man she hoped wouldn't still be waiting for her when she stepped out of the washroom. If she knew Tony Stark, however, she knew not to bet on him actually leaving. He was the richest man in the world, and the richest man in the world didn't get rich by giving up. He also got everything he wanted.

Her eyes instinctively rolled when she saw him standing outside of the door. "What if I told you I could get you one-on-one with James Buchanan Barnes?" He asked simply, once again stopping her right where she was. Her expression was no longer sarcastic, no longer annoyed, and as much as she hated to admit it- Tony Stark had just gotten her exactly where he wanted her. "I know you've been studying him. I read your little articles on your little blog, it's cute."

"James Barnes doesn't talk to anyone," she told him; already knowing that every psychologist who had tried to get him to open up about his past had failed. "What makes you think he'll talk to me?"

Tony dropped his head to the left. "Because you're a beautiful girl, Miss Beck." His tone insinuated that she should have already known his answer. "I'd put my money on Bucky Barnes being a real womanizer in the forties, and you know, old habits die hard."

She scoffed at his tactics. "You're delusional, you know that?"

He shrugged, making a face. "Think about it. You know where I'll be if you change your mind."

Tony Stark turned on his heel, leaving her standing wide eyed and open mouthed in the hallway. As if she would actually need time to think about his proposal. And she knew that he knew what her answer would ultimately be. If it wouldn't have made her seem absolutely, painstakingly desperate, she would have jumped at the opportunity.

An interview with the infamous Winter Soldier was the holy grail for a psychologist; and even though she was only a measly guidance counselor for New York City Public Schools- one year away from completing her Master's program- she still had dreams. And finding out what made James Barnes' neurons fire was on top of that list. It wasn't because better psychiatrists had tried, and failed… It was because no matter how much time she spent reading over countless newspaper articles, and interviewing people who had been victims of his crimes… No matter how much she thought she knew about him, she was nearly one hundred percent positive that the man was an iceberg. And she had only barely scratched the surface, if at all.

When her last class of the day had finished, she skipped her usual routine of grabbing an early dinner with her best friend, and instead went straight to her apartment. A little, red '3' blinked on her answering machine, because she was old fashioned enough to still have a house phone; where she mostly directed the bill collectors.

"Hello, this call is for Annelise Beck. My name is Gina Reynolds from MasterCard, I was calling to discuss the outstanding balance on your accou-"

Delete.

"Annie, it's mom! You haven't been answering your cell, honey. Are you okay? You usually always answer my calls, and I'm just very worried about you, sweetheart. How are things with you and Sean? I hope they are okay. Your father and I miss you very much, and please call us back! We love you!"

Delete.

"Baby, please call me ba-"

Delete.

She threw open the doors to her closet and dug through the very depths to find a white, button down shirt- that was most likely too small for her now- and her black, pencil skirt. Her most professional outfit, that she- upon seeing herself in the mirror- noticed had a coffee stain near the collar. Shit, she thought to herself. Her brain panicked before her eyes spotted a silk scarf in the corner of her closet floor. Perfect.

There was a knock on her front door as she slipped a pair of black pantyhose over her prickly legs. "Who is it?" She called, hoping it wasn't anyone important. Now was not the time. It was getting late, and the Avengers tower was not within walking distance. And this was all assuming that James Barnes would actually be there, waiting to be evaluated. Why was she trying so hard?

"It's Rich!" Her best friend called from the other side of the door.

"You know where the spare key is, why are you knocking?" She yelled at him, almost falling over as she tried to move the sheer fabric around her legs so that it was sitting correctly. "I'm a little busy."

"I didn't know if you were busy, busy." He said, stepping into her apartment. His mouth hung open slightly at his bottomless friend, hunched over on the couch trying to fix her hosiery. "Why are you getting all dressed up?"

"Tony Stark offered me a job," she told him. It wasn't uncommon for them to walk around without clothes around each other. She had known Rich Gilbert since the two of them were in diapers. Richard raised an eyebrow at her before moving to make himself a pot of coffee. "This time I don't think I can say no. I mean, I know I'm not going to say no. I knew as soon as he asked me again."

"You've said no before," he noted. "What's different this time? More money?"

"God no," Annelise replied as she shimmied into her pencil skirt. "It's not about the money. I mean, I'm drowning in debt, but that's not why I'm doing this."

She stared at herself in her full length mirror; straightening out the kinks in her outfit, smoothing her fingers over the wrinkles. Then she shrugged into a black blazer, and buttoned it in the middle, accentuating her waist. She knew, by the smirk on her friend's lips, that he knew exactly what Tony Stark had offered her.

"I've got to go," she said as she pulled her peacoat from the hook by her front door. "Will you be here when I get back?" Rich nodded towards her, as he sipped on his coffee. "If you drink all my coffee, make sure you go to the store and buy more. And not that cheap hazelnut shit that you like, I want Starbucks Espresso Roast."

"This is why you're so broke! It's all the same, you know!" He called after her as she pulled her door shut.

She thought about earlier; sitting in her art classroom alone- trying to pinpoint the exact decisions that had lead her there- while everyone had packed up and left. Was a subway a better place to do some soul searching? While her neighbor buried his nose in between the black and white pages of The New York Times, she searched her brain for that exact moment…

When did the Powers That Be look down on her and say, 'she will move to New York, she will study the human brain, and she will find herself on the front porch of the Avengers Tower with a coffee stain on her shirt'? Because she was almost certain that this wasn't what they had planned. What changed, and when, and why now?

"Annelise," Tony's voice sounded as she stepped through the elevator doors on to the twelfth floor. "I knew you could resist me."

musical inspiration:

1. psycho killer - the talking heads

2. pity party - melanie martinez

reviews are appreciated and encouraged