homeless, heading nowhere.

[vied]

Oh, I don't know. It could be fun.

I'm guessing this is where I'm supposed to offer a definitive yes or no, but I think I'm just gonna leave it up to you. It's no skin off my back, whatever you decide to do.

Just don't shortchange me.

Comments

[vied]

[ Killian's eyes are glowing orange by the time Maya reaches out to him, his very veins glowing as his temper burns, brighter and brighter the longer she goes on. (Not that her points aren't valid, not that she's wrong, but he's never been a man who's taken well to contradiction. He hadn't had much of a choice in the matter, early on — he'd been weak, unassertive, easily ignored — but he does, now.

Thanks to her research.)

Almost as soon as her fingers find his collar, that light simply goes out, whatever indignation he'd felt trumped simply by surprise. She knows full well what he's capable of (and the fact of the matter is that she has every right to fight him regardless, tooth and nail), but still, she doesn't back down. In anyone else, he might take it as arrogance, but thirteen years of collaboration have give him better insight as to her character than that.

Still, his brow creases and his mouth pulls into a thin line, though he manages a huff of laughter at her last few words. (As his skin returns to its normal color, a patch of red reveals itself on his cheek, the shape of her palm barely discernible there.) ]

It wasn't on my own, if you'll remember, [ he says gently, though it doesn't seem to be a tack of conversation that he's particularly keen on following. ] I had the great Tony Stark, and his girl Friday as — what'd you call it again? — incentive. [ In a lighter tone: ] Only briefly, as it turned out, but still.

[ Slowly, the line of his shoulders relaxes, smoothing out bit by bit. ]

We got along for thirteen years with my ideals riding shotgun. Still got a lot done.

[ficus]

[ Maya's hands fall to her sides. There's no simpering step back or a feared wince. It's her true colors, these ones. Like the orange falling away from Killian's skin, she's something fiery in this instant. Something not to be taken lightly. She'd heard tell once that she had all of the ingredients it took to be Tony Stark's equal. It's not that woman Killian's currently looking at — It's someone even better.

So, maybe dying did give her some form of clarity, and hey, she might even see things differently now. But what good would that vision be without someone else to inspire with it? There are several parts of her that want Aldrich Killian dead. She wants to watch her design rip him apart from the inside out, and when he recomposes, she wants to witness it all over again in some new, fascinating way.

Hell hath no fury and all that.

But Killian? He's an asset. In another life, it was her ideals that caused a version of Aldrich to put a gun to his mouth and pull the trigger. Maya would like to avoid the mess and get back to basics. Regroup, recalculate, reconstruct. Try, try again. Isn't that what all the motivational posters with cats say nowadays? ]

A lot isn't enough. [ She glances at Killian beneath long lashes. ] If we keep thinking in terms of the past, then everything — all of our work — will have been for nothing.

I died, you died. Karma's a bitch. [ Maya knows who she is. She knows what she's capable of. Somewhere in there, there's redeemable qualities. There's life. There's a drive for happiness. It wasn't until right now, though, that she's figured out what she needs. ]

What have I got planned for the future? [ She quirks a single brow, as if this is the only obvious option. ] How would you like to help me finish what we started?

[vied]

[ In another life, they were other people, not relegated to the role of foil or mastermind as they are now. In another life, the ends justify the means hadn't been enough to keep the guilt at bay, to keep him from blowing his brains out. But times change, and so do people.

The Mandarin is a beast born in Tony Stark's image (single-minded, arrogant, narcissistic) and properly given life by Maya Hansen's research. Aldrich Killian, though not completely separable, is a different matter. He'd been someone different when he'd first met both of them, and there's no house that can be built without a foundation. He hadn't been a totally blank slate. There's a little of that in the way that he looks at her now, the muscles in his jaw clenching in thought. ]

You really do want to keep going with this, [ he notes at length, still keeping her gaze. ]

How do I know you're not gonna stab me in the back?

[ A slightly unfair question, perhaps, given the circumstances of her death, but though science as a subject may be objective, the motives and purposes of it (as evidenced all too clearly by the saga leading up to this point) are all too subjective. ]

[ficus]

A touch hypocritical, don't you think? [ Maya watches Killian's eyes and suddenly the pair of them are every bit the revered minds they were once upon a time. Unblinking, she shrugs her shoulders. There's nonchalance that could be mistaken for arrogance here. ] You don't.

I didn't. [ There's that vitriol.

It subsides as she holds onto the ball of her elbow. Maya isn't the most difficult person to work with. She prides herself on being comparatively laid back, as far as scientists go. All she asks is for a workspace and the materials necessary and she does what she can.

This time, she's simply requesting a partner. Keep your friends close, the people who shoot you mercilessly and in cold blood even closer. A case of folie à deux at its finest. ]

It's a brave new world, Killian.

Choice is yours.

[vied]

[ Aldrich Killian is a man who has surpassed his initial means by leaps and bounds but sacrificed some measure of control in the process (though it's not a loss he's ever been cognizant of, nor one he'd acknowledge if he were). It's how they got into this mess in the first place. But, if nothing else, the trip beyond the pale seems to have given him a measure of it back.

For a long moment, he says nothing, does nothing, but finally, he smiles. The warmth in his expression isn't completely genuine but it's close enough for the time being. (He needs her research, needs her help. Perhaps there's no pride in having to admit it, but he's not so self-deluded to think that he's gotten this far completely on his own.) ]

Please. Just call me Aldrich.