Chapter 80

As Maggie cut through the sky toward the road, she instinctively searched out the red Spider-Man suit. Peter had flipped past three of the drones and swung toward the Dreadnought, snagging the robot's extended arm with webbing and yanking it sideways to divert the stream of gunfire. He saved the police officers from the volley of bullets, but he hadn't spotted a fourth drone wheeling to aim its submachine guns at him.

But it turned out that whoever had made the drones hadn't considered making them resistant to Adamantium-based nanotech. Maggie flew right through the drone, the sharp edge of her right wing cutting it cleanly in half and sending it careening to the ground in a shower of metal parts.

Spider-Man looked over at the screeching noise, and his mask lenses widened. "Ms Stark?" he exclaimed, then yelped and ducked to avoid a sweeping punch from the Dreadnought. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I heard that there's a good beer garden in Queens." Maggie flipped backwards and fired energy blasts at the Dreadnought. It staggered, but the blasts didn't make a dent. It didn't even turn its blank metal head to observe her. "What do you think I'm doing here?" The drones registered her presence and opened fire, so she twisted into evasive manoeuvres. She swooped under and around the train tracks, and swerved to avoid Peter as he swung away from the Dreadnought, which blasted two streams of fire into the air.

"Karen says this thing's a Dreadnought," Peter said breathlessly as he fired webbing at the drones. "Which – cool name, and I think I might know who made it, but I have no idea how to fight it. I've never fought anything that wasn't alive before."

"I don't know how to fight it either," Maggie shouted back, trying to cut through another drone and cursing when it buzzed just out of reach. She mentally filed the knowledge that Peter knew who was behind this. "But think it through, Spider-Man. Big metal robot, small agile drones. What's the best play here?"

"Really? This isn't a training session, Ms Stark!"

Maggie dove over the police blockade, seized the vests of two officers trapped behind their car and flew them out of range. When she dropped them and returned, Peter had managed to web up one of the drones enough to send it falling out of the sky. The Dreadnought marched relentlessly down the street.

"I know it's not training, but in every situation you need to think. You can't just shoot webbing at a problem and kick it until it goes away, so what's this opponent's weakness?" The Dreadnought fired a volley of machine gun rounds at her and she rolled into a ball mid-air, falling out of the sky until she'd lost enough height to flare her wings and shoot away under the train tracks again.

"Uh… rust?" Peter tried, somersaulting over the Dreadnought and trying to web him up.

"That thing's made of titanium steel alloy, try again." Maggie pinwheeled through the air and managed to clip one of the drones with her heel spurs. It pitched sideways, whirring, but steadied itself. "Damn." She cleared her head. "Do you remember the advice I gave you the first time we properly met? About the Vulture?"

"Uh…" she and Peter crossed paths again as he flipped over her extended wings, fending off a drone trying to bring her down. "You said something about… going for, uh, power sources, right? Hitting the crucial parts of a machine to make the rest fail."

"Great. You see a power source on that thing?"

Peter swung by the Dreadnought, his eye lenses wide. "No, but unless it's got an arc reactor any power source for a thing that strong has to be big, so I'd guess that it's in the chest."

"So let's try to crack that casing," Maggie continued. "And in the meantime, remember to target joints and hinges to decrease its mobility. What are some other weaknesses?"

Peter went to reply, then yelped as the Dreadnought swung around and fired a rocket at him. "Um, it's made of metal and electricity, so… cold? Rubber? Maybe water, if we can expose its wiring."

"Sounds like a plan to me. I'm going to go after these drones, I'm faster in the air than you and I've got more tools to rip them apart. You keep using that brain of yours to bring down the Dreadnought."

Despite what she'd just said, Maggie saw an opening as the drones cleared for a moment above the Dreadnought. She swooped, and in half a second had channeled nanotech out along her extended heel spurs and into the spike ball she'd formed her first time flying with her new wings. The ball slammed into the Dreadnought's shoulder as she soared over it, obliterating one of its shoulder-mounted rocket launchers and carving a deep gouge in its plating.

Peter whooped. "You have a tail?"

"When I need one," she replied, the nanotech already sliding back into her heel spurs. The drones buzzed angrily and converged on her. "Now let's get to work."

With the drones focused on Maggie Peter was free to swing around the Dreadnought, tripping it up with webbing, punching its joints and doing everything he could to slow or maim it. In the air Maggie pinwheeled and twisted, firing bolts of energy at the drones and trying to catch them. She'd developed a quick, efficient way of dispatching them: she'd use her nanotech boosters to get a final surge of speed to catch up with one of the elusive drones, then she'd seize it with her clawed gauntlets or her heel spurs and rip it to shreds.

The road was a mess of torn metal and bullet casings. The air echoed with gunfire, the Dreadnought's metal footsteps, and the whoosh as Maggie sliced through the sky. F.R.I.D.A.Y. coordinated with law enforcement, keeping them and the civilians out of range of the fight.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie watched Peter swing around the corner of a building, web up a fallen metal shard and hurl it at the Dreadnought. The robot batted away the metal but the movement distracted him from Spider-Man's next movements: Peter zipped toward the Dreadnought and slammed his feet into its knee, sending it falling into a kneel.

"Take that!" Peter whooped as he fired webbing at the nearby train tracks to swing away.

"Spider-Man, look out–"

Maggie's warning wasn't quick enough. As Peter webbed away the Dreadnought flung out a fist, metal spikes flicking out of its knuckles, and slashed Spider-Man on his way past. Even from the air Maggie heard the rip as the Spider-Man suit gave way, and saw the spray of scarlet blood that shimmered in the air. Peter cried out and tumbled to the ground, webbing forgotten.

"Pe– Spider-Man!" Maggie cried, and with a lash of her claws sent the last drone careening out of the sky. But it didn't fall as fast as Maggie, who flipped backwards and dove at the rising Dreadnought. Spider-Man lay on the ground twenty feet from the metal humanoid, clutching the open wound in his chest.

"Hey!" The Dreadnought turned, and Maggie landed heel-spurs-first in its chest. She beat her wings and wrenched, her heel spurs pulling apart the metal plating and exposing a labyrinth of sparking wires underneath. She reared one foot back, ready to plunge it straight into that forest of wires, when she heard a high wine of something powering up and–

Lightning. It erupted in the base of her foot where it connected with the Dreadnought and arced up the metal on her bones, locking up her muscles and sending her head snapping back in an agonized cry. It reminded her of metal plates on her face, of lying immobilized on a safe room floor as HYDRA's kill switch electrified her entire body.

It was only gravity that saved her. As she froze up she fell backwards and her heel spur slipped out of the Dreadnought's titanium chest. The instant they were no longer connected the current broke, and Maggie gasped as movement flooded back into her aching limbs.

She crunched to the tarmac and her wings buckled. Standing tall above her, the Dreadnought turned its hard, blank face downward, as if it was looking at her. That high wine filled the air and in its exposed chest Maggie saw flashes and sparks of electricity. An electrical charge conducted throughout its body to prevent close-quarters combat, she realized. Clever.

Her admiration for the design quickly vanished when the Dreadnought lifted its spike-knuckled fist and tried to put it through her head. She rolled to the side and the spikes crunched through the tarmac.

Maggie scrambled backwards over the rough surface of the road as the Dreadnought bore down on her, buzzing with electricity, swiping and trying to catch her. She tried to lift her wings to fly away, but the Dreadnought darted at the flared metal faster than she'd thought it could move, and she had to retract them.

The Dreadnought swiped again and she ducked just in time, spotting the red-and-blue figure of Peter getting to his feet on the other side of the road. "Spider-Man!" she called, trying to dodge sideways. "Spider-Man, are you okay?"

He groaned, but he'd managed to stand up. Maggie had to look away again when the Dreadnought almost grabbed her shoulder.

"I'm alright!" Peter called. "But get ready to get out of the way!"

"Oh, I'm ready now," she said, leaning backwards as the Dreadnought just missed knocking off her head. It had pinned her down under the train tracks, too fast for her to run from and too electrified for her to fight. Her energy blasts had no effect, not even on the gaping hole in its chest. The underside of the train tracks flickered with the red of her blasters and the Dreadnought's electric blue sparks.

Peter was doing… something on the other side of the road. She caught flashes of his suit, and then heard a clang and a sudden rush, like the sound of a river. She glanced over and saw that he'd kicked the top off a fire hydrant, sending a geyser of rushing water jetting into the air and raining down on the tarmac.

Seconds later, the Dreadnought reeled when a car tire bounced off the back of its head.

It turned, and Maggie took her chance: part of her wanted to attack, to use the Dreadnought's distraction against it, but the rest of her just knew that Peter had a plan. So she dove sideways, lifting her wings and doing as Peter said: get out of the way.

She soared out from under the train tracks just in time to see Peter slam a manhole cover on top of the gushing fire hydrant.

With a noise like a tsunami, the abruptly-diverted jet of water hurtled across all four lanes of the road and right into the Dreadnought.

If the Dreadnought had been at full functionality, it might have sustained the geyser of highly-pressurized water. But when the water hit it, it had a gaping hole in its chest exposing its central wiring and an electrical current coursing across its body.

The Dreadnought seized up, shuddered, and with an unholy shriek it imploded in a shower of sparks, metal, and water.

The resulting blast wave hit Maggie in the back as she flew, knocking her into a shopfront on the other side of the road. She crunched through the glass and broke her fall against three mannequins.

For a few seconds she just lay on her back on the shop floor, her wings askew and her body soaking wet. On the road outside the shop she heard rushing water, distant sirens, and a metallic pitter-patter as pieces of the demolished Dreadnought rained down. Other than that, it was finally quiet.

Her breath caught in her chest.

Peter.

She clambered to her feet and hopped out of the shattered shopfront, eyes darting until she spotted Peter: busy webbing up the fire hydrant to slow the water flow.

"Well done, kid," she said breathlessly, jogging toward him. "Good call with the water, I couldn't have gotten close enough to – whoah." As she spoke Peter finished webbing up the fire hydrant, and when he moved to turn around he yelped, clutched his side and dropped to one knee. Maggie lurched forward to steady him, her heart pounding.

She pulled his hand away from his side and hissed at what she found: the Dreadnought had cut right through his suit and carved a gash in the teenager's ribcage. Maggie was no doctor, but she'd seen enough wounds and enough bloodloss to know that this was not to be taken lightly. "Peter," she murmured, looking up at his masked face. He swayed where he knelt on the ground.

"I'm alright, Ms Stark," he said. "Just need to… need to catch my breath."

"Stay here."

She darted away, tore one of the shop mannequin's shirts off, and then ran back to Peter. She pressed the shirt against his wound and pulled one of his hands over it. "Hold this tight."

"Ow."

"That means you're doing it right."

"Hey, thanks for coming, Ms Stark. I mean don't get me wrong, I could've taken that thing, but it was good to, y'know, have the help."

"Sure thing, Mr Hero. Hold still."

"Whoah, what… what are you doing?" Peter yelped, but Maggie had already stooped, picked him up under his knees and the back of his shoulders, and scooped him into her arms. "Ms Stark, put me down!"

But Maggie ignored him. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., liaise with local emergency services and make sure they know the threat is cleared. And send in Damage Control."

That done, she spread her wings and took off. Peter yelped in her arms and flailed, then winced as his wound pained him. After that he kept still.

"Ms Stark, where are you taking me?"

Once she'd got enough height she turned as carefully as she could in the air, trying not to jostle the wounded teenager too much. He felt so light in her arms – light, but strong. He was soaking wet, and Maggie felt the warmth of his blood against her right arm. She wanted to put that Dreadnought back together piece by piece so she could shred it.

She swallowed. "Well I thought about taking you back to the Facility–"

"No, oh my god–"

"– but then I figured that'd just freak you out, and it's too far anyway so" – she paused to check her bearings – "I'm going to take you back to your house. Your wound's not too bad, I can patch you up there."

His eye lenses widened. "Wait, but… I've got a secret identity!"

"I already know who you are and where you live, Peter. I won't let anyone see us."

She felt him scowling at her, but sensed that he was done arguing with the plan. She focused on flight lines and weight balance, while still keeping an eye on F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s progress back at the scene, until Peter spoke again.

"Are you sure you can take me the whole way?"

She laughed. "You weigh the same as like, an angry cat. I'm fine."

He went quiet again. His hand was still pressed to the stolen shirt over his wound, his fingers rigid. "You know, Mr Stark once had to carry me like this. The Vulture dropped me in a lake. And it wasn't even Mr Stark that got me out, the armor was empty."

"Did he let you think he was in it? He does that, it's really annoying."

"Not on purpose, I don't think? He was in India."

Maggie broke her concentration for a moment to smile at him. "I remember him calling me from India all worried about some protege of his. I didn't figure out that it was you until later."

"Mr Stark was… worried about me?" He cocked his head at her.

"I think he worries about you much more than he'd like you to know," She confided, as they closed in on Peter's aunt's apartment. "But he knows you can handle yourself. You did really well today, Peter."

"Thanks, Ms Stark."

"It's Maggie, c'mon. And also, when you're feeling better we're going to have a chat about who was behind the Dreadnought today."

"It's just some guy who worked with the Vulture, he calls himself the Tinkerer because he takes old tech and weapons and experiments with them. But I can take him, I've just got to track him down."

With Peter's directions, Maggie arrived outside Peter's apartment and hovered, letting him slide open his bedroom window with his free hand. She looked down at him. "You don't have to do it alone, Peter."

"Really, it's not a big deal. The guy sticks to Queens mostly." He slid out of her arms, tension in every line of his body, and struggled through the window. She reached out a hand to steady him and frowned at the streak of blood he left behind.

"Today seemed like a big deal," she said softly.

"Right," he huffed. He dropped into his desk chair with a groan. "But I won't let him do something like that again."

Maggie half-smiled at that as she slipped through the window. She knew that Peter needed to feel trusted, so she didn't push the matter, but she made a mental note to keep a very close eye on him.

Once she'd climbed through the window, Maggie took half a second to survey the room: small compared to the wide expanses of the Facility, with a bunk bed, desk, and wardrobe. It was filled with controlled clutter: lego models, posters, clothes draped over various surfaces, high school textbooks. A teenage boy's room. She smiled, then pulled her goggles up her forehead and scowled at Peter.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking… a breather," he huffed, hand still pressed to the stolen t-shirt against his side. He'd pulled off his mask and leaned back in his chair.

"You need to lie down," she ordered. "Where's your aunt?"

"Aunt May's at… work," he grunted. He staggered to his feet, made the three short steps to his bed, and fell into it. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Really Ms Stark, I've got this. Thank you for the lift but–"

"Sure, I'll leave the teenager bleeding on his bunk bed," she snorted. "Stay there and I'll get some supplies. First aid kit?"

"Kitchen."

Maggie would be worried, but there was color in his cheeks and he hadn't lost too much blood. Still, she ordered: "Don't sleep," before she opened his bedroom door and strode out. She was still in full uniform with her wings tucked neatly against her body. Thankfully the nanotech had dried itself out on the flight over.

The apartment was small too, but felt like a home; it had sunny yellow walls, blue curtains, and another controlled mess of books, framed photographs, and ornaments that seemed to say we live here. Peter's bedroom was right across the hall from the kitchen so she strode in, glancing around – only to stop dead at the sight of a large boy standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a glass of water.

He looked to be about Peter's age; wearing jeans, scuffed sneakers and an old maroon sweater as he nodded his head to the song playing through his headphones. Maggie had barely a second to process her shock before the boy looked up, saw her standing in the kitchen entrance, and dropped his glass of water.

Maggie darted forward and caught the glass, spilling some, and looked up with a scowl. She really didn't need the neighbors knocking right now.

The boy's eyes darted over her, and she could only imagine how she seemed to him – dressed in her intimidating red and black uniform, with large metal wings folded up against her back. The boy's mouth dropped open and he took three big steps away from her, his eyes as round as coins.

Maggie softened – he was just scared. Of her.

She straightened, and set his glass of water on the counter. "Who are you?"

"What?" His voice was high, wobbly.

She rolled her eyes and leaned forward to pull his headphones out. "Who are you?"

"N-Ned Leeds, ma'am. Are you… are you here looking for Peter? Because I am not Peter–"

"I know you're not Peter. And I'm not looking for Peter."

His eyes went, if possible, rounder. "You were looking for me?"

She sighed. "No. Wait here, don't move."

The boy – Ned – went rigid, and she retraced her steps to Peter's bedroom.

Peter, fiddling with the t-shirt pressed against his wound, looked up when she opened the door and slid inside. "Look Ms Stark you really don't need to hang around, I can take care of this–"

"But you don't have to. Now, please tell me you know a kid called Ned Leeds."

"Ned? How do you know that name?"

She grimaced. "We just met."

Peter's face paled. "Oh god. Okay, uh… well he already knows that I'm Spider-Man–"

Maggie sighed. "Oh, good." Without further explanation, she turned again and walked back into the kitchen. Ned Leeds stood exactly where she'd left him, his eyes still round and his limbs frozen by his sides as his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He'd really taken her order to heart.

"Mr Leeds?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Would you mind preparing some warm salt water while I find the first aid kit?"

His muscles loosened slightly, so he no longer looked like a statue, and his voice was breathy as he replied: "Uh… sure."

Things were only slightly awkward as Maggie reappeared in Peter's bedroom with Ned Leeds by her side. He hadn't quite recovered from his shock, but the sight of his friend still half-wearing the Spider-Man suit, keeping pressure on a large gash in his side, loosened his tongue. Maggie pulled Peter's hand away and cleaned the wound as Ned asked Peter frantic questions about his injury.

"Are you gonna die?"

"No, Ned, I'm fine!"

"Did the robot do that?"

"Robot – you saw the fight?"

"It was on the news! We were meant to study for algebra, remember? But you weren't here so your aunt said I could stay here and wait for you, and I got a Twitter update about a Spider-Man sighting so I turned on the news to watch. That thing was awesome. You beat it, right?"

"Yeah." Peter winced as Maggie pushed a saline-drenched gauze strip into his wound.

"And I can't believe you fought with the Wyvern!" Ned gushed. "And brought her back to your house!"

Maggie looked up, her mouth quirked. "Hello, by the way."

"Hello," he breathed, then turned to Peter with round eyes. Maggie saw him mouth oh my god out of the corner of her eye.

She rolled her eyes. "Mr Leeds, would you mind handing me those alcohol wipes?"

He fumbled for them and handed her seven. An awkward silence fell. Maggie knelt on the floor beside Peter's bed as she efficiently but gently dressed his wound, Peter stared at the bottom of the top bunk with his teeth gritted and hands balled by his sides, and Ned sat against the wall as he stared at Maggie.

"Hey, who's the woman in all the pictures out there?" Maggie said to break the silence. "That your aunt?"

"Yeah, that's Aunt May," Peter gritted out.

"Hm. She's pretty."

Peter's head rolled to look at her with incredulous eyes. "Jeez, you and Mr Stark?"

She cackled. "Mr Leeds, butterfly bandages please."

He handed them over, his eyes still fixed on her. She'd seen him perk up at the mention of her brother, and sure enough…

"You're Mr Stark's sister?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Is it true you've been training Peter?"

"That's true. He's doing very well." A smile flickered across Peter's face, but then she pinched his torn skin together and he hissed.

Ned was relentless: "Is it true you beat up Peter in Germany?"

Peter scowled. "Hey–"

Maggie laughed and replied: "I would have, if I really wanted to."

"Oh wow," Ned said. "Peter said you have knives in your feet, is that true?"

She raised an eyebrow at Peter, and he blushed. "Yeah, it's true. See?" She paused for a moment to stand, lift one leg and extend her heel spur. It gleamed darkly in the warm bedroom.

Ned Leeds looked like he might implode. "That is awesome. Is it true you were partners with the Winter Soldier?"

Maggie blinked. Of all the questions… she fought to keep her hand from drifting to the Kimoyo bead at her neck, and tried not to let the question sting too much. He'd surprised her, but at the fascinated, excited look in his eye she sighed. He was just an excited kid. She and Bucky weren't really real to him.

"Yes," she murmured, and lowered herself again to keep taping Peter's wound together.

Peter, who had been eyeing her face intently, shot Ned a pointed look.

Ned just blinked. "What?"

Maggie shook her head to clear her mind of the sudden melancholy. "Oh, Mr Leeds – Peter left some blood on the windowsill, are you alright to clean it up?" She knew some people got queasy at the sight of blood.

"I can do it!" he replied eagerly, before swiping a clean cloth and hustling to the window.

"Sorry," Peter muttered once his friend was out of earshot. "Sometimes Ned can be…" He sighed and then added, with a roll of his eyes: "I think he still thinks I might lay eggs."

"Well that's ridiculous," she replied, laying another butterfly bandage. "Only female spiders lay eggs."

Peter snorted.

"As a male spider, you can look forward to your mate eating you one day." She smiled sunnily at him as he gaped. At the window, Ned snickered.

"So you two are friends?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah," Peter replied. "Ned's my guy in the chair." Ned turned to give them a double thumbs up, dangling the bloody cloth from one hand.

"Your… guy in the chair?"

"You know," Ned said. "The guy in the chair! Hacking the internet, looking at maps, giving information over the comms. I'm the guy in the chair. Don't you have a guy in the chair?"

The corner of Maggie's mouth crept up. "I think I used to be the guy in the chair until recently. And now…" She thought of Agent Asfour, and the room full of analysts back at the facility. "I suppose I do. Mr Leeds, there's a… look, there's another bloodstain on that star destroyer. Peter, how did you get blood there?"

"I'll be more careful with my blood next time," Peter replied, and she couldn't quite decide if he was sassing her or if he genuinely thought that was something to feel bad about. Also the 'next time' was concerning.

Ned looked up from cleaning the lego model. "Wait, star destroyer? You know Star Wars?"

"Are there people in the world who don't?" she asked. Her research with Bucky had told her that it was essential viewing, a classic, and Rhodey and Tony had almost been disappointed that they hadn't been the ones to introduce it to her. She looked up and saw Ned staring at her as if she'd come from another planet. He turned to Peter.

"Peter, Ms Stark has seen Star Wars!"

"I know, Ned." Peter had told her all about his idea to take down Ant Man in Germany, and they'd even discussed other useful tactics to be learned from the Star Wars franchise.

"And MJ said we were nerds for still liking Star Wars–"

"MJ calls us nerds about most stuff," Peter interjected, his ears going red.

Maggie's eyebrows shot up. "Who's MJ?"

Ned dropped back down beside the bed. "She's a girl at school, she's obsessed with P–"

"She's not obsessed with me!" Peter said in a high voice, the flush creeping down the back of his neck.

Maggie smirked but let him off the hook. "Alright, almost done. I just need that gauze–"

Ned handed over the bandage, and as she took it he blurted out: "I think your wings are really awesome."

She'd been surprised at how long it had taken him to mention them, to be honest. "Thanks! They're nanotech."

Both boys leaned in, as if they were children about to hear a bedtime story. Maggie smiled again and began to explain.

She only laid out the basic principles, and showed them how she could dissolve and reform her wings, but they were both entranced. It kept them quiet long enough to let her finish up dressing Peter's wound, at least, and hopefully gave them some inspiration to work in engineering in the future.

"But, uh… don't tell anyone this," she finished. "The tech's not on the public market yet. Give it a few months." She shrugged. "If you go into a degree in tech you'll probably end up learning about it at college." Months ago a sentence like that might have sounded bizarre to her. Now… it was her life.

"Awesome," Ned breathed.

Maggie smoothed down the last corner of the bandage, and then sat back on her heels. "Okay, all done. I'm no doctor though, so tomorrow I'm going to ask Happy to pick you up from school and take you to Dr Cho." Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Maggie shot him a look, and he closed his mouth again.

She reached out to cuff him on the shoulder, then got to her feet with a sigh. "Alright, I'd better go debrief. Mr Leeds, make sure he doesn't get out of that bed. He needs to heal." She moved to the window and slid it open, already thinking of her flight path back to the Facility and the paperwork she'd have to fill out. So much paperwork.

"Thank you, Ms Stark," came a small voice from the bed.

Maggie, already with one leg out the window, looked over her shoulder. Peter lay pale and tired on his bunk bed, his hair rumpled.

She bowed her head. "You were very brave today, Peter. And Mr Leeds…" the boy looked at her with eyes shining with adoration and hope, and she sighed. "You're a good friend." With that she jumped out the window, flared her wings, and soared into the sky.

Back in Peter's bedroom, Ned let out a sigh.

"I'm in love."

Peter snorted and shoved him away. "Gross, no you're not. C'mon, go grab my console – if I have to be stuck here we may as well play something."

As she flew home, Maggie stared sightlessly at the ground below. She'd been so concerned about the Dreadnought, and then Peter, but now…

Her thoughts echoed with that phone conversation she'd had with Ross.

If this is the best the Accords can do, she thought, then it was almost a failure. Ross could have just as easily said no – in fact she'd heard it in his voice, that he'd almost refused just because he didn't like her. Maggie would have joined the fight anyway, but then she'd be a criminal again. Just like that, everything she'd fought so hard for would be stripped away because she wouldn't let a teenager fight a death robot by himself.

An uncomfortable awareness prickled down her spine. She'd signed the Accords, fought under their rules, but today had made her realize just how tenuous her loyalty to the Accords really was.

This allows me to help people, she'd told that reporter. But how long would it be before the Accords kept her from helping people?

Maggie knew exactly what she'd do when that time came.

The Avengers returned early from their conference, and after a debrief Tony squeezed her shoulder then went to look into the Tinkerer. Vision disappeared, with that look on his face that Maggie knew meant Wanda, so she found herself alone in the conference room with Rhodey.

He watched her chew her lip for a few moments, his head cocked.

"Something's bothering you."

She glanced up. "Surely you can guess."

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes sombre and serious. "I don't particularly like my guess."

"Try."

"The Accords." The air in the room seemed to dry up and freeze at the words. The words themselves were common in the Avengers Facility, but this: expressing doubts, questioning… it verged on dangerous ground.

She nodded once.

"Maggie…"

"Ross almost said no, today."

"But then he didn't."

She leveled a hard look at him. "They've said no before." Before she joined the team she'd heard of the aborted missions, the Accords holding the Avengers back from going into areas where they could have helped. The Committee had flat out told the analysts to stop looking into a certain area in Asia – at all – because the situation was too "politically complicated".

"And the world didn't end," Rhodey replied, his voice taut.

"We could have helped." He didn't have a response for that, so Maggie said once more: "He almost said no. They almost said no. Peter got hurt today, Rhodey. It might have been so much worse if I wasn't there." She leaned forward, slowly, her every muscle tense and her moves precise. "They almost said no. A group of men who've never seen combat, or if they did it was a long time ago."

Rhodey had stopped arguing back, his dark eyes steady on her.

"I have been so terrified of them manipulating me ever since they first hired me," she continued. "Because I know that if for a second they think I won't do what they want, they'll destroy me. Call me a criminal, throw me in the Raft. Take it out on the people I love." She took a deep breath. "So far things have been okay – they've got a vested interest in making sure criminals don't run free, so that's worked out. But I just know that the second something big comes up, something important, that they don't think we should get involved in…" she bit her lip. "Are we really going to back away from what needs to be done?"

Rhodey's facade of calm flickered, and he let out a tired sigh. "You sound just like Steve."

"It seems my family has a track record of getting dragged into fights by Steve Rogers," she joked, then sobered. She knew that every word she said here was important, and utterly dangerous. "I know that regulation is important, Rhodey. I know we can't just decide who falls under the hammer and who doesn't, because that makes us no better than HYDRA, but… is this really the best option?"

He looked so, so tired. This same argument had cost him his mobility already. "You got an alternative?"

"So many!" she exclaimed and shot to her feet. "For one, we need better representation in the Accords Committee – right now we've just got US armed forces and senators, and one international representative. And they're all men! How is that an accurate representation of the world, let alone the Avengers? There should be enhanced people on the committee, not just regulated by them." She started pacing, gesturing with every point. "Also, the Avengers should be brought in on negotiating the Accords since we're in the best position to know what works and what doesn't. I'm stunned the Avengers weren't involved in the legislation in the first place."

She reached the end of the room and turned, barely looking at Rhodey as she spoke. "All the bullshit about regulating all enhanced people needs to stop right now. You and I both know that Ross is still hoping for that global tracking software, and we both know that it's utterly criminal. Putting people on lists has never ended well. You don't convict people before they commit a crime, that's just the way it works. And honestly, it sounds just like Project Insight. Who knows what else they're working on and haven't told us about." A shudder rippled down her spine. "Next - vigilantes should be dealt with on a case by case basis instead of just rounded up and sent to the Raft. And speaking of the Raft" – she took a breath, one finger flying up – "the Raft needs to calm the fuck down, it's inhumane and no one there has had a trial."

She turned again, fighting off the memory of that shifting metal box in the ocean. "There should also be better options for enhanced people outside of the Avengers: schools, programs to help them control their enhancements, support groups, non prejudiced medical facilities." She thought of her brief lessons with Peter, his initial lack of any formal training and the way he drank up knowledge and skills. "Also, a training program for those who want to learn to fight."

She stopped to properly breathe, her fingers curling and uncurling, and turned to Rhodey.

His eyes were wide. "Damn, you've really put a lot of thought into this."

"Well it affects nearly every part of my life and all the people I care about, I thought it was worth a few brain cells."

Rhodey scratched his jaw, his eyes considering. "We could bring this up with the Accords Committee, you know. See if we can get some changes started, because you're right: what we've got now isn't sustainable." His jaw clenched. "Tony doesn't tell me what's going on in his head about this anymore, but I can tell he's not happy."

Maggie cocked her head. "And you?"

His eyes fell. "If it came down to it, protecting people versus doing what the Accords tell me to do?" He sighed, his focus somewhere far away. "I am a good airman, Maggie. I've done my job and I've done it right for nearly thirty years. But I'm worried about what this situation might make me do."

Maggie paced around to his side of the table and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her. "You're a good airman. But you're a good person, too."

Over the next few weeks, she and Rhodey floated the idea of making some revisions to the Accords with the rest of the team. Tony didn't so much express his opinion on the revisions themselves as express his certainty that the Accords Committee would never go for it. Vision was interested, but distracted.

When they finally had the meeting with the Committee themselves, Rhodey got two sentences into explaining their intent before the Committee members started shooting it down. He tried to keep going, but eventually Ross got to his feet and declared: "You keep this up and we'll consider it treachery against the Accords, Colonel Rhodes." Then the Secretary turned to Maggie, his face stormy. "Was this your goal? Infiltrate and destabilize?"

"You really think I'm the destabilizing force here?" she spat back. "Just listen to us, this will help people–"

"Ms Stark, you seem to be under the impression that you are our colleague–"

Rhodey's hand appeared on Maggie's shoulder, and her head snapped sideways to look at him. "Maggie, let's go," he murmured.

Ross fell silent, his eyes dark with storm clouds. Maggie looked from Rhodey, silent and serious, to Ross, to Vision, and then Tony. Vision sat rigid in his chair, not having said much in the meeting besides expressing support for the revisions. Tony had stood in the corner with his arms crossed, his eyes darting from Maggie and Rhodey to the Accords Committee. And now… he wasn't looking at any of them. His eyes were fixed on the ground by his feet, his face unreadable.

Maggie swallowed thickly and turned back to Ross. "You won't even consider it?" she asked softly.

"We're not interested in your attempts at weakening the Avengers and the Accords, no," Ross snapped back. She looked at the rest of the Committee – their heads held high, their eyes firm. A resounding no.

The breath left her lungs, only to be replaced by fire. She jutted her chin and glared at Ross. "Do you remember the first thing I ever said to you?"

His eyes flickered and his mouth turned down in a scowl. Oh, he remembers.

Her eyes blazed. "I was right."

With that, she stood up and stormed out of the room.

A minute later the rest of the Avengers left the room as well, to find Maggie leaning with her forehead against the corridor wall, taking deep breaths. After a quick, silent exchange, Rhodey and Vision turned to head back to the common area.

Tony approached Maggie and his hand ghosted over her shoulder.

"I don't know how to fix this," she croaked.

His hand settled on her shoulder, and she let the warmth seep into her skin. Through the touch she felt what he'd been hiding for so long: how tired he was.

When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Thank you," he said. "For trying."