Notes: HAI HAIIIIIIIIII my dudes. Hope your exams/assessments/families/significant others/pets are treating you well :'))) Sooooo another shorter chapter, but at least it's kinda on time :')) Y'all are the best, and also, RAMADAN MUBARAK to any and all who are celebrating! Have a blessed month, and that goes for every single one of you beauties :'))))) Much love,

- M

Chapter 36

"I'm gonna throw up."

"You're not gonna throw up," said the detective to his partner as they entered the elevator.

"What if I throw up when I see him? Oh my God," whispered the detective, "I might defecate."

"No, stop—"

"It's not impossible. And it's not like it hasn't happened before, Jake."

"You're making this infinitely weirder than it has to be—"

"And what am I supposed to call him? 'Mr Stark' just sounds like I'm talking to my uncle. But I still wanna convey an air of respect." He turned to his partner, "How about Papa Stark?"

"He's not Danish, Charles," he deadpanned.

"Mr Iron Man? Mr Man? Mrs Man?" He shook his head and mumbled, "This'd be so much easier if he was Vietnamese."

"I'm gonna stop you right there," said Jake as their elevator ascended the floors of Manhattan's mightiest tower. "Alright, look. It took me forever to convince Sarge to let us have this case, and we can't get kicked off just 'coz you couldn't keep it in your pants."

"I can't help the defecation, Jake. I'm not programmed with your level of control," he whined.

"All I'm saying is that we've gotta be cool, just treat it like any other case. Got it?"

Charles let out a long breath. "You're right. I'm sorry, I just got a little carried away."

Jake clapped a hand on Charles' shoulder. "It's alright. Look, for all we know, he might not even be here. I bet he's somewhere taking out a Russian warlord and then taking out his hot-Russian-supermodel-daughter."

Charles paused, "…His own daughter or the warlord's daughter?"

Jake winced, "Obviously the warlord's daughter, why would you even ask that?"

The elevator dinged and announced their arrival to Dr Banner's Laboratory. Both detectives straightened their shirts and tightened their ties a little before the doors fell open, only to reveal the very man that'd preoccupied their thoughts for the last 3 hours.

"Ah, Detectives," said Tony with a welcoming smile.

Charles failed to speak, while Jake's face grew unbelievably red, and before he could stop himself, two damning words fell traitorously from his lips.

"Papa Stark."

*Brooklyn 99 Intro Music plays*

"They called about an hour ago and asked if they could come in to get your statement," explained Zeyn to Mia. "They said it shouldn't take longer than 20 minutes."

Mia's family – inclusively, Zeyn, khaala, Bucky, Mel, Steve, Sam and Nat – had all converged to her makeshift hospital room upon hearing of a report filed with the NYPD. That morning, Zeyn had received a call from a detective, informing him that they were required to take down Mia's official statement regarding the incident.

No one really knew how they'd even found out about what'd happened in the alley, but they decided it'd be best if they cooperated with the process. After promptly being granted permission by Tony, Zeyn invited the detectives to the Tower, so that Mia's recovery wouldn't be disrupted more than necessary.

But wish as they may, this'd still be hard for her. And considering that her memory of that night had only resurfaced 10 hours prior, she wasn't sure whether she was entirely up for it.

"Hey," said Bucky softly as everyone in the room sprouted off to their own conversations. "You good?"

Mia nodded half-heartedly. "I'm fine. I'm just…a little nervous." She paused, "What if I can't remember everything?"

"That doesn't matter. Just do the best you can, they won't ask for more than that," he said reassuringly. Mia nodded, but he could see the unsurety speckled behind her eyes. He held her marred hand in his gloved one. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Mia shook her head. "It'll only get worse the longer I wait." She looked at him and asked carefully, "Hey, uhm, I know that hanging around with a couple of cops isn't the best way to fly under the radar, but…d'you think you could stay? I mean, for as long as they're around?"

His decision was made before she had the chance to give him an out. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mia's gratitude was felt without the medium of words, and Bucky couldn't help but be relieved at the thought of staying by her side. This was new territory for both of them, and her wounds were still fresh. But at least together, they could share the burden.

"I think they're headed up. Cap, you might wanna hide in a broom closet or somethin'," quipped Sam.

Steve nodded and parted from Mia with a reassuring touch of the hand. He and Nat left with khaala, Mel, Zeynand Sam, and before long, Tony reappeared with a pair of clearly star-struck faces.

"Somebody order a couple'a Jersey Boys?" asked Tony.

"It's actually Brooklyn—Doesn't matter," said the detective. "God, this room's amazing. It smells like oranges and technological advances."

"With a hint of haemoglobin," added Charles.

"I had a blood transfusion an hour ago," Mia suggested helpfully. "Might be that."

"Nah. I'm thinking it's the petunias," said Charles.

Tony sent a troubled look to Mia, who he hadn't officially met yet, but concluded his brief appearance with a not-so-subtle dash to the door. She smiled a little at his antics, and watched as the two detectives wrapped up their admiration of the room to redirect their attention elsewhere.

"Anywho, which one of you handsome devils are…" Jake checked his notepad, "…Martyr…Alpine?"

Bucky blinked slowly, clearly in shock.

…But Mia was used to it.

"If you mean 'Miriya Alfiyan', then that's me, Detective," she said with a slightly raised hand.

"Ah. Well, my apologies for butchering your unfairly exotic name to Hell," he said. "I'm Detective Jake Peralta, and this is my partner, Charles Boyle. We're from the Brooklyn 99 with the NYPD, and I just wanna start off by saying that I know this isn't the most convenient way to be doing this, but we appreciate your cooperation."

Mia shook her head. "Please, it's no trouble. I just…I'm not sure how you found out. I mean, did you get an anonymous tip, or…?"

Charles replied, "A woman came to the precinct to file a missing person's report."

"About me?" Mia asked surprisedly.

"We'll get to that in a second. How about we start off with you telling us what you can remember?" asked Jake.

Those words sat in the air for a while, before Mia took a deep breath in, glanced at the man at her side, and began to revisit her memory of that night.

"I was waiting near a Laundromat when I heard someone screaming…" she started.

It felt surreal, those few moments of clear recall. She'd thought it'd be harder to tap into, but once she allowed the memory its space to unravel, her words flooded like ink to paper. She remembered the faint smell of paint in the alley, and the residual stench of a nearby pub. There'd been birds squawking deafeningly as the sun set, with dogs barking in the distance.

And once the nauseating sound of the woman's screams revisited her thoughts, Mia was sure she'd never forget such horrors again.

"…don't remember much after the second shot. I just…" she paused, her eyes falling to Bucky's. She knew that there wasn't much else she wanted to say in front of the detectives, but there was a conversation waiting to be had between her and the fella' in her life. "That's all I can remember."

Charles scribbled down a few last notes before Jake nodded and asked one final question. "These two guys, do you remember anything specific about them? Height, build, tattoos?"

Mia thought a moment. "Uh, well, they were both white. I think they had some standard tattoos on their arms, nothing too memorable. One of them was probably 6'2 or 6'3. He looked about…40-something? And, uh, he was an easy 250 pounds. The other one was tall and skinny, a lot weaker too."

"At any point, did they mention each other's names?" asked Jake.

Mia shook her head, "I don't think—Wait," she thought a moment, "It was something with 'T'. Trent, or Todd, maybe? I'm sorry, I can't be sure."

"It's okay, that's enough to go off of," Charles reassured.

"I think that's good for now," said Jake. "Any questions for us? Besides what conditioner I use, 'cos I'll never confess." He leaned in conspiratorially, "It's Lavender Blowdream by Gerard Butler."

Mia blinked. "Lavender Blowdream?"

He nodded enthusiastically, "I stole it from my girlfriend's apartment, which is technically our apartment, but I'm not ready to attach my name to the drapes she has up yet."

"You know what they say about women with ugly drapes," said Charles.

"What do they say about women with ugly drapes?" asked Mia.

"Dirty windows, obvi," said Charles, as though nothing on God's green Earth could've been clearer.

"…I don't know what that means," she confessed.

"Wait 'til you're 27, then everything's gonna make sense," winked Charles. "Or 29, depending on your cycle."

"Which cycle?" she asked worriedly.

"Which cycle," he repeated with a laugh. "Ah, what a gift it is to be young and naïve."

"Okay, you're scaring the bejeezus outta her, Charles," Jake murmured. "If there's anything else you can think of, feel free to give us a call," he said, handing her a card with his name on it.

Mia nodded in thanks, but before the pair could leave, there was one thing she had to know. "Detective," she said. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"You weren't checked into any of the hospitals in Brooklyn. And when we went through the surveillance footage, we caught a glimpse of an Iron Man suit hovering above the building next to you." He smiled boyishly, "Figured we should trust our hunch."

The pair were about to leave again, but Mia's voice brought them back. "How is she? The woman?"

"She came in two days after the incident, but she seemed okay," said Jake. "A bit of bruising, but nothing that can't be fixed." He paused as if to consider his words carefully, before saying, "Actually, there was one other thing."

"Jake…" warned Charles softly.

"No, she deserves to make the choice for herself," he said to his partner. He swallowed, "She wants to meet you. I mean, she's hell-bent. She's called twice every day to see where we're at with the case, if we have any leads. And our Commanding Officer wasn't too keen on us telling you, but…frankly, I think he's wrong."

Mia shook her head disbelievingly, unable to understand why a woman who'd gone through so much would want to revisit any part of that fateful night again. "Why does she want to meet me?"

"Her name's Maha Hosseini, she's an Afghan refugee. She's a single mom with a 4-year-old kid…" he paused, "And she's been in the US for 31 days."

The entire room fell eerily quiet as the weight of those words settled in. 31 days. The woman had barely been in America for a month, and this'd happened. She'd had a child waiting at home, who very well could've been robbed of a mother that night. None of it was fair, nor was it just. And Mia's head throbbed incessantly at the thought of what might've transpired had the men gotten what they wanted from her…

"We're not at liberty to disclose your information to anyone without your consent," said Charles. "But if you're willing…"

Mia nodded almost immediately, because strange as it was, she felt as though they harboured an attachment because of what'd happened that night. She found herself wanting to meet this Maha, to see how she looked and spoke in moments of peace rather than threat.

"I'll meet her," she said. "Please, let her know."

Jake nodded. "We'll set up a time with her and give you a call in a few days. Sound good?"

Mia looked to Bucky, who smiled softly in encouragement. "Yeah."

And with a few final goodbyes, the endearing detectives left the couple alone in Mia's room. "You feel okay?" asked Bucky as he sat in the chair beside her.

Mia nodded. "I'm fine. Just a little tired," she smiled. "They seem nice."

He nodded. "A little strange."

She quipped, "You're just saying that 'cos the short one's kinda in love with you."

"That's just the codeine talking," he deadpanned.

She smiled tiredly, "Haven't missed a beat so far."

The pair grew quiet, each dwelling in thoughts of their own. Everyone would rejoin them soon, and they barely had enough time to say what they wanted to say. But nevertheless, Mia would try.

"Buck," she began seriously, "Are you okay?"

His head snapped to hers. "Of course I am. Why…why would you ask that?"

She pulled on a string from the fabric of her blanket. "I just…these last few days, everything that's happened…it couldn't have been easy on you."

He blinked. "Easy…on me?"

"It's always harder to be the bystander, to watch someone you care about suffer. You feel helpless," she paused, "Always."

"Mia…"

"And I know you blame yourself," she said unsteadily. "I see it when you look at me. And I hate it—I hate that you feel that way. Because it's not—"

"Mia, stop—"

"—not your fault. I made my choice, I did what I was taught to do. And I'd do it again."

"You were waiting for me," he said quietly, silencing her words. "I should've been there sooner, I could've stopped it."

Mia's eyes welled with disbelief. "How could you have possibly known what would happen? Please, Buck," she put a hand over his, "Don't let this be another weight on your conscience."

He found it hard to meet her eyes with his, same as it'd been since she'd woken up. But she wouldn't let him get away that easy, not after everything that they'd survived to reach that point.

"Look at me," she urged gently. Reluctantly, he did as she asked, and was all the weaker for it. "I know we weren't prepared for this, there's no way we could've been. But I want you to know that I don't regret any of it. 'Cos for the first time in my life...just for a moment, I felt like my father's daughter." She steadied her voice as tears dampened her blanket. "I wasn't your girlfriend, I wasn't Zeyn's sister…" she shrugged, "Just another kid, tryna make her dad proud."

Bucky's throat grew dry as he heard her reasons, but she wasn't yet finished.

"And beyond that, what matters is that I came out unscathed. A couple of bumps and bruises, but I'm here, Buck. And I couldn't be more grateful."

Much as he tried to ignore it, Bucky knew that he'd have to tell her about the permanency of one of her wounds. And sitting there, in a moment of true appreciation for her survival, he knew that it'd be best if she knew sooner rather than later.

He brought down her hand from his cheek and held it as he tried to form a sentence. She watched him keenly as he began, "Mia, I…there's something I have to tell you."

She nodded in quiet encouragement, and his nerves were only sated by the fact that she would get to know the full truth of her situation.

"The doctor ran a couple of scans when you were under. And, uh, one of them was for your organ functionality." He could feel himself trying to stall, desperately searching for a way to evade the news altogether, but the quiet look of anticipation on her face forced the truth from his lips. "She says…she says you won't be able to carry a child."

He didn't quite know what to expect in terms of her reaction, other than shock and uninhibited sadness, which is why her response threw him all the way off.

She sent him a deflated smile. "I know."

He looked at her plainly. "You know?"

She nodded, her sights set on their joined hands. "Khaala told me. And Helen explained what happened." She fell quiet for a moment before saying, "I won't say that it's easy to accept, because you'd see right through that. But when I think about it, when I really think about it…" she looked to him, "I haven't lost anything. Everyone I love is still with me, and that's more than most people can say."

He felt taken aback by her hopeful view on an otherwise heartbreaking reality. "I didn't think you'd take it so well. I mean, all of this."

Mia's eyes fell to the window that showcased New York City to her left. "People go through worse every day, Buck. And somehow, they find a way to pull through." A reminiscent smile spread on her lips. "My ma used to say that no one ever benefitted from being ungrateful. And if I start complaining now, after sitting in a fortress with food and water and family…there's no end."

Bucky smiled, and she replied in kind. "When'd you wisen up so much, kid?"

Mia laughed that same musical laugh he'd longed to hear again. "After my 7th round of painkillers." She said quietly, "I'm 70% sure there's cocaine in my IV drip."

"It was probably Wilson," he nodded.

"Well, I'll have to thank him for that," she smiled. "Hey, uhm, have you talked to Mr. Stark yet—"

"If y'all are dirty talkin', you better cut that shit out 'cos you've got some sexy visitors coming through with a delivery," announced the unmistakable voice of Sam Wilson as he entered with Nat and Steve.

Mia sat up further in her bed and smiled at their entrance, only to freeze at the hint of a smell she could recognise in any part of the world. "…You didn't."

"Oh, but we did," said Sam. "Close your eyes."

Mia turned to Bucky with unabashed giddiness. "Did you do this? Tell me you didn't do this."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ehm, excuse me," waved Sam. "If y'all are done canoodling, close your damn eyes, girl."

Mia slapped a hand over her eyes for good measure, and listened closely as Steve neared her bed. He took out something from a plastic bag and held it in front of her, while Nat put a drink on her bedside table.

"All this plus the cocaine's gonna make my heart combust," whispered Mia.

"And, open," said Sam.

She knew the fragrance of Paradise when she smelt it, and the Heaven-sent shawarma held safely in Steve's hands was almost too much for her brain to process. "No," she whispered.

"Yes," they all said in unison.

Honest to God tears threatened to well in her eyes as she looked at each one of her friends, all a little too pleased with her reaction. "I don't have words."

"Well, you're gonna have a few when we tell you this next part," mumbled Sam. "We talked to the Doc, and turns out, she says you can't actually eat it."

And just like that, Mia's entire world shattered to pieces.

"Wot?" she asked.

"Yeah, she said you can't have solids for another 2 days for good measure," he informed. "Something to do with your stomach lining reforming or somethin', I'm not too sure about the logistics."

Mia's voice grew terribly small as she asked, "So, I can't have any?"

Nat shook her head. "We didn't say that." She lowered her voice and told a hopeful Mia, "She's watching you through a live feed on the camera behind us. But if we huddle around you for long enough and block the view, you should be able to get a few bites in."

"Better eat up before it gets cold," said Steve.

Mia didn't know what to say, but her previously controlled emotions threatened to scatter at the thoughtfulness of her friends. "I can't believe you guys would do this for me. I mean, you went all the way into town to get the shawarma, then you came back here and now you're gonna stand around so I can have a few illegal bites, I'm…" she shook her head and sniffled tiredly, "You guys are the best, man."

"I see the crack's finally kicking in," noted Sam.

"I'm ready," she said determinedly, and with that, she got her chance at some proper food for the first time in 4 long, anxiety-ridden, unforgettable days.

2 days later

"Please don't apologise, khaala," said Mia in Arabic. "You have no fault in all of this."

Mia and her aunt were sitting on their level's balcony at the Avengers Tower, enjoying the crisp air of an early autumn evening. It'd been two days since the detectives had come to meet with Mia, and since then, she'd been granted permission to start walking again. It was undeniably liberating to be capable of doing things on her own, without hassling those around her for assistance. And the way things were going, it seemed as though her health might improve quicker than anticipated.

Dr Cho had been more than impressed with her progress, and attributed her enhanced healing to the properties of the Cradle. All her superficial wounds remained, but the damage inflicted by the bullets had healed incredibly well. She was walking with a slight limp, but her breathing was as even as it'd been before the attack. All in all, she felt good.

And more than that, she felt hopeful.

"But I have barely spent time with you in these last few days, Miriya." Khaala shook her head apologetically, "Your uncle and I have survived each other for decades, this squabble can wait a little longer."

Mia said in clear outrage, "Khaala, the fact that he came all the way here to speak with you is indication enough that things have gone too far. I'm not saying that what he did is forgivable, but it's not just gonna go away if you keep ignoring it." She let out a deep breath and placed a hand over her aunt's. "What are you afraid of? You've done nothing wrong."

Khaala shook her head, pain hidden beneath her tired eyes. "There comes an age after which divorce is out of the question, Miriya. At this point, we have grown used to one another, to being in each other's lives. And yes, his actions pain me, they always have…but after everything that's happened, with my health and you children, I don't want things to change more than they already have."

"Khaala, you can't just live miserably because you're afraid of things being different." She said earnestly, "If he makes you unhappy, then there's no reason for you stay. I'm not saying for you to file for divorce, but what's the point of going back to live in a mansion by yourself again when he won't even be there half the time?"

Khaala laughed humourlessly. "And where else will I go, habibti?"

The words fell from Mia's lips without hesitation. "Stay here."

Khaala turned to her niece as though she'd misheard her, but Mia's determination was unwavering.

"There's nothing left for you in Sydney, khaala. Zeyn's here now, I'm here, Arsala and her family's here. And the way khaalu's business is going, you're only gonna see less of him anyway." She held her aunt's hands tightly in her own, begging as a child does to a parent. "Please. This'll be good for you."

Khaala's surprise at so permanent a proposition was unhidden, given the history the two had shared. But the truth was that they'd grown immeasurably closer in the last few months, and quite frankly, neither one of them was ready to resume life without the other.

Before khaala could think further, she entertained a few questions. "Where would I stay, Miriya?"

"Here, in New York. You love the apartment we're staying at, we could look into renting it out or having it leased for you," she said easily.

Khaala smiled at her niece's endearing eagerness. "You forget that your home is not in this city, Miriya. You are still living in DC."

And crazy as it may have sounded, Mia had momentarily forgotten that she wasn't settled in New York. Maybe it's because everything around her seemed familiar. Zeyn had his new gym, and Mel had been in town for a while. Sam, Steve and Nat had been hanging around near-constantly since she'd been out of the coma. And truth be told, anywhere Bucky was…

…Well, it felt like home.

"I know I don't live in New York," she conceded, "But, I mean, I can always make trips down from DC. It's not like they're far away from one another. And I'll always be in town to see Zeyn anyway. But if you're here, at least you'll have Arsala and all the people in their community you've gotten close with over the last few weeks."

Khaala said softly, "Having you and your brother would be enough, Miriya." In a rare moment of complete transparency, she continued in the language of her ancestors, "Kunt dayimaan ma yakfi."

You've always been enough.

Dumbfounded by such a sentiment, Mia felt unable to convey some sort of reply. But her aunt had plenty yet to say.

"You will never know how fearful I was of losing you that night," said khaala, her eyes averted from her niece. "I thought…perhaps this was my punishment for all those years of neglect, that I should lose you, and live with such a consequence."

Mia's resolve broke completely as she sat in front of the woman in her mother's place. "Khaala…"

"But God is Merciful, and He gave me the chance to say the things I wish I'd said the day you stepped off that plane as a child."

Her nimble fingers traced the scar upon Mia's cheek, a constant reminder of all she'd survived. Mia's eyes grew blurry, her breath shortening. But khaala's was steady, as she said what she'd longed to say.

"There isn't a soul alive who is more precious to me than Zeyn and yourself. And I hope you've forgiven me for my coldness…," she said shakily "…that you've looked past my misgivings as a guardian. And I pray that your parents do not judge me harshly for all that I have done. But know this…" she said with renewed faith, "…You are everything."

Mia shook her head as tears streamed to her lips. "Khaala…I…"

"Ana bihibik, Miriya. Always."

With a trembling hand placed over her aunt's, Mia couldn't help but smile at how the stars had favoured her. Every hardship and every adversity considered, there wasn't a thought in her mind that told her otherwise;

She was the luckiest girl around.

"I love you, too."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I—I didn't know anyone was in here—"

"S'okay, just lubin' up the old pipe," said Tony with a small grin. At Mia's dumbstruck expression, he held up the exhaust pipe in his hand, much to her relief.

"Oh…that pipe." She cleared her throat, "I, uh, I don't think we've actually met. I'm Mia," she waved a little awkwardly. "The girl that's been sleeping in your science lab."

"Yeah, I know. You're the one that's been driving JARVIS nuts with the Dean Martin song requests," he said cheekily.

Mia grew a little red. "Are you harbouring a lot of other injured 22-year-olds?"

"None that were named after the Princess of Genovia," he said as he tightened a bolt on his Mark 43 Iron Man suit.

Mia's ears piqued with intrigue. "You've seen 'The Princess Diaries'?"

"You kiddin'? Hathaway's an old friend of mine," he replied.

Mia's mouth fell open. "Really?"

He put down the wrench, "I mean, we've never met, but I'm a firm believer of wishing things into reality."

"You and me both, sister," she mumbled.

"You lookin' for something? Or you just like walking into strange men's basements at 2:00am?" he asked chummily.

"Oh, right, sorry. Uh, I was looking for a stick, JARVIS told me I could find one here."

Tony stopped his work to look at her. "A stick?" She nodded, to which he asked, "Like a broomstick?"

She let out an unsuspecting laugh. "No, kinda like a walking stick." She touched her bandaged stomach and said, "Cho doesn't want me walking around unassisted. She thinks it's bad for the recovery."

"The only thing bad for your recovery are those dead sheep you're wearing on your feet," he said pointing at her boots. "Why?"

She looked down and said defensively, "Hey, they're Uggs. They're an Australian staple."

"So is getting bitten by every arachnid known to man. Y'know, you really shouldn't associate yourself with that country," he said seriously.

Mia came to stand closer to him. "Why's that?"

He scoffed. "There's no way that a single nation produced Jackman and Hemsworth. The only plausible explanation is that it isn't really a nation at all. Rather, it's a Soviet cover-up to unravel the secrets of the perfect human genome. The residents there are simply stimuli for the experiments."

Mia blinked, because there were a lot of ways she thought her first conversation with Tony Stark would go down, but this sure as fuck wasn't one of them.

"…Someone spiked my IV with cocaine."

"Where d'you think they got it from?" he asked a little proudly.

"Are you Tony Montana?" she whispered seriously, her brain feeling a little more fried as the seconds ticked on.

He threw down his dirty rag. "Don't think I don't realise how perfect that would be. But no, I'm not." In a surprising change of tone, he extended his hand and said, "Tony Stark."

Mia looked at his hand briefly before shaking it, an obliging smile on her lips. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Stark."

"I prefer 'Papa Stark', but hey, whatever's gravy for you."

Mia quickly realised that half the things this guy said would go right over her head, but she was just stoked to be standing where she was at all.

"I've got what you need, but it's less of a walking stick, more of a pimp cane," he said as he retrieved something from his office. "There's probably a pair of voluptuous female breasts engraved on it somewhere, but I can't control what Mayors get me for my birthday."

Mia blinked, "The Mayor gave you a pimp cane with titties on it for your birthday?"

"Bill de Blasio is a beautiful, beautiful man. And yes, also a pimp cane enthusiast," he said as he handed her the coveted item.

Mia thanked him as she appraised it. "Wow, this is somethin' else."

"Take good care of her. I'm childishly attached to it, which should be all the more incentive for you to speed up the recovery process. Can't live off of cocaine and shawarma forever. Trust me, I've tried."

Mia nodded understandingly. "Understood." She sent a small smile his way and said, "Well, have a good night, then."

He nodded. "Likewise."

Mia's walk to the door of his basement felt strangely incomplete. She felt as though there was so much she wanted to say, such gratitude she hoped to verbalise. But something told her he wasn't the type to appreciate grand declarations of recognition, not for things like this.

Instead, she waited 'til she was halfway out the door before turning back and saying, "Mr Stark?"

He peeped his head out from the suit he was currently laying under, his undivided attention focused on her.

She swallowed. "I, uh…I can never repay you…for all of this."

Clearly uncomfortable with the idea that someone was acknowledging his kindness, he said, "It's just a pimp cane, kid."

Mia laughed softly. "Still," she paused, thinking of how he'd spared no expense to save her from an unforgiving fate. "I wouldn't be alive without it."

"I've read your file, Princess," he said good-naturedly. "You would've pulled through."

He'd rolled back under the suit before Mia could respond, and was busy at work within moments. She left the room without uttering another word, but she felt lighter…

…Almost as though anything was possible.

X