"If I'm going to become that guy in the suit," Tony said, "I want it to be because I chose it. Not because the universe spoiled the ending for me."
Eric nodded.
"Exactly."
Tony looked at him again, this time with a genuine smile.
"I like you, glowbug."
Clint cleared his throat.
"And what about me?"
Tony pointed at him without looking.
"Not you. Definitely not you."
"Seriously?" Clint protested. "I just pulled your ass out of a terrorist cave."
"Yeah," Tony replied, "but he just fixed my head. That's worth more."
Eric laughed.
"It wasn't a competition."
Tony closed his eyes for a moment, relaxed for the first time since the kidnapping.
"Either way," he added, "if that future includes fighting gods… at least now I know I won't be alone."
Eric smiled.
"Trust me," he said. "That makes all the difference."
The Quinjet continued on for a few more hours before beginning its descent.
Yinsen gazed calmly through the small window.
"When we land," he said at last, "I won't be going with you."
Tony turned immediately.
"What?"
Yinsen smiled gently.
"My village is still there. My people too. Since I survived… I want to do something for them."
Eric watched him with quiet respect.
Clint lowered his gaze.
"It's not safe," Tony said. "After everything that happened—"
"It never has been," Yinsen replied. "But now I know I can change something."
Tony pressed his lips together.
"When I finish my business," he said, "I'll come help you."
Yinsen nodded in gratitude.
The Quinjet touched down.
After leaving Tony and Yinsen on the ground, Clint and Eric returned to SHIELD.
The mission had lasted a full day.
They stood in front of the holographic table. Neither looked nervous… though one of them recognized that look all too well.
On the other side, arms crossed, expression blank as a poorly painted wall, stood Nick Fury.
The projection activated.
Satellite images.
Before.
After.
A discreet terrorist base, hard to detect… reduced to an elegant crater.
Silence.
Fury didn't raise his voice.
"Well," he said at last. "Report."
Clint stepped forward.
"Extraction successful. Primary objective recovered. Secondary objective intact."
"And the base?" Fury asked, eyes still on the image.
Clint tilted his head.
"Neutralized?"
Fury tapped a control.
The image zoomed in.
"'Neutralized' is an interesting word," he said. "Because this looks more like… erased."
Eric swallowed.
"It was a miscalculation," he said. "I lost control for a second."
Fury turned his head slowly toward him.
"One second," he repeated. "Do you know how many international reports are born in one second, Valerian?"
Eric didn't answer.
Clint stepped in.
"To be fair," he said, "if he hadn't done it, none of us would've made it out."
Fury nodded once.
"I know."
That didn't make it better.
"It's not critical," Fury continued. "The local government is confused. No clear signatures. Officially, it was an internal explosion of the terrorist cell known as the Ten Rings."
Eric looked up.
"The suit works," he said honestly. "Perfectly. Regulators respond. Anchors too."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"The problem isn't the suit… it's my power."
Fury studied him with renewed focus.
"Explain."
Eric took a breath.
"Light isn't like a weapon," he said. "You don't push it. You don't contain it like fire or electricity. If you hesitate… it disperses. If you react too late… it explodes."
He looked at the crater.
"And when you're trying to protect someone," he added, "instinct is faster than control."
Clint nodded silently.
Fury leaned on the table.
"Then learn to slow your instincts," he said. "Because next time it might not be a base full of criminals. It could be innocent lives."
Eric met his gaze.
"I will."
Fury watched him for a few more seconds.
Then he shut down the projection.
He turned to Clint.
"Good mentoring."
Clint smirked.
"He's trying."
Fury looked back at Eric.
"Valerian," he said. "Your power is spectacularly useful. And extremely dangerous."
He stepped closer and placed a hand on Eric's shoulder.
"Learn to master it… or the world will learn to fear you."
Eric nodded, serious.
"Understood."
Fury turned away.
"Get some rest," he ordered.
As they left the room, Clint gave Eric a light shove on the shoulder.
"For a first mission," he said, "you only erased a spot off the map."
Eric let out a tired laugh.
"I promise to erase fewer things next time."
Clint smiled.
"That's the spirit."
"Good job."
A soft voice came from his left.
Natasha walked toward him, hands in her pockets, expression relaxed.
She wasn't the new neighbor anymore.
Nor the distant agent.
She was… Natasha.
Eric smiled immediately.
"Good job as in 'you didn't destroy a country,' or good job as in 'you only wiped out one base'?"
Natasha tilted her head, amused.
"Good job as in 'you brought Stark back alive and you're still breathing,'" she said. "Trust me, that's not nothing."
Eric shrugged.
"I'm starting to specialize in that."
"And the mission?" she asked. "Did you manage to recover him?"
She stopped in front of him.
"He was a little grumpy about the cold," she added, "but the mission was successful. We recovered him quickly. Now we just have to wait for him to wake up."
Eric nodded.
"By the way…" he said, scratching the back of his neck. "My parents asked about you."
Natasha raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Especially Susana. She's convinced you're…" he made air quotes, "'too cool to just disappear.'"
Natasha smiled.
"Your sister is… intense."
"That's the polite version," Eric said. "And the one that involves less fear."
Natasha crossed her arms, leaning lightly against the wall, just watching him.
That look of hers. Direct. Precise. Like she was dismantling him piece by piece without touching him.
"So what exactly are they expecting?" she asked calmly.
Eric swallowed.
For some reason, facing armed terrorists had been easier.
He met her gaze with the relaxed bravado he used as social armor… though this time it had a crack.
"That you come back," he said.
Then, faster than he meant to:
"For dinner. To exist. To prove to Susana that interesting people don't evaporate."
Silence.
Natasha didn't answer right away, but a smile betrayed her otherwise unreadable face.
She tilted her head slightly, evaluating him.
Her green eyes locked onto Eric's with a soft, dangerous intensity, as if she were deciding something that would never appear in a report.
Eric felt heat crawl up his neck.
Okay. Breathe. It's just Natasha Romanoff. Legendary spy. Totally non-intimidating.
"And I—" he cleared his throat, "I mean, it's not a family ambush or anything. Well, okay, it kind of is. My mom cooks like every meal is a peace negotiation. And Susana…" he smiled nervously, "…Susana already adopted you."
Natasha arched a brow.
"Seriously?"
"Completely," he nodded. "She already drew you. With a cape. And, uh… lasers. I think you're competing with Thor now."
That earned another smile from Natasha.
Even Barton was momentarily speechless.
Not many people could make Natasha smile like that. A real smile.
She stepped closer.
Too close. Ignoring Clint's curious stare.
"And what do you want, Valerian?" she asked quietly.
Eric opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Fantastic.
His brain decided to go for a walk.
"I…" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I want you to come back because…" he stopped. "…because I like you."
Natasha held his gaze a second longer than necessary.
Eric almost added something stupidly heroic. Almost.
She sighed, like someone allowing herself to lower an invisible guard.
"You're clever," she said.
"I've been told," he replied. "Usually in less… domestic situations."
Natasha laughed softly. Then, with that charming smile that never showed all her cards, she said:
"Who knows. Maybe when I get some vacation time."
This time it didn't sound evasive.
It sounded… open.
Eric let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"I'll take that as a 'maybe.'"
Natasha turned and started down the hall.
"Do whatever you want," she said over her shoulder. "Just tell Susana I didn't promise anything."
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