Scene: Late Night Phone Call
"Is it too late to call?"
In Henry's profession -- all of them -- it was unusual to not get a phone call after television went to "late night".
"No. You can call any time." He disentangled himself from Becky and moved into the other room. Becky nodded after. She was used to the late calls, too. "But it is late."
Amelia was quiet. Henry waited, it was intended as a question.
"Mal and Lindy were taken off their teams."
Henry frowned.
"And not put on any others."
"I've heard that," he answered with some caution. He heard Amelia take a breath.
"Did you have something to do with it? Was that your suggestion?"
Henry sighed inwardly. "It wasn't my suggestion."
"Do you agree?"
Henry couldn't decide what he thought of this line of questioning. As it pertained to Amelia. As it pertained to the others -- "Amelia, it's not appropriate for me to answer that question. Or discuss this with you at all."
"It's not fair."
He imagined her hands in fists, glaring over arms crossed tightly across her chest. "What's not fair?"
She didn't answer right away. He thought he could hear her weighing how to answer but it was probably his imagination. "How come I was reassigned?"
Henry considered. Whatever he answered, she'd probably argue -- and he was pretty sure it wasn't what she was really getting at either. "Well, the DC team is the closest while you're at school."
"That's not what I mean." She sounded frustrated. "Why do I get to be on a team and they don't?"
Henry shook his head; she didn't give up easily. "I'm sorry, we can't talk about it."
"Can you look into something for me?"
"Is it about Lindy or Mal?"
"It's about me."
Henry sat back in his chair. "I'm listening."
Again, she hesitated. He waited.
"Do you remember the party we had the last time the teams got mixed up?"
He pursed his lips. Early February. "Vaguely."
"I want to tell you what I remember and I want you to find out what parts are true."
Henry straightened, frowning. "I'm not sure I understand."
"I talked to Tony Stark twice that night but I think only one time really happened."
Henry noted that her tone was matter-of-fact now.
"Have you told anyone else about this?"
Another hesitation. Now he imagined her biting her lip. "What part?"
He settled back into the chair again. "Maybe you should start at the beginning." He heard another breath before she began, still matter-of-fact.
"Tony gave me champagne. Two glasses. And my dad found us and said I shouldn't be drinking. Tony left and I talked to my dad for a bit and then I think he went to yell at Tony again." Her voice changed slightly. "He does that."
Henry nodded. He understood exactly what she meant about Peter. "I remember some of this."
"Right." Another breath. "Someone gave me a glass of wine and my dad found me drinking it and I got in trouble. Again, or, more."
Henry nodded, again, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Yes."
"He said I should wait, we were going to leave, he just had to do whatever he had to do. . . and then. . .Tony found me and he congratulated me. . . as if he hadn't spoken to me at all yet."
She'd started to sound a little breathless. Henry kept his voice steady. "Those parties are always hectic and Tony has to talk to a lot of people. . ."
"Which is why he's really good at it and doesn't make mistakes. And even if he forgot me, Daddy was upset. But. . . but he was most upset with me which means he saw me drinking." He could discern panic and pleading in her voice. But there was a familiar stubbornness as well. "So something had to be real. Right?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. He heard her catch her breath. "I wish you'd told me some of this before now." He listened carefully for her response. She was quiet so long he started to worry.
"I'm sorry."
She sounded calmer. Good. "Why are you telling me now?"
"I need to know what's going on with me."
Henry took a deep breath. Somehow this conversation left him more and less concerned about her at once. "I'll need to speak with your father and Tony."
"I know."
It occurred that the earlier questions about Mal and Lindy had been a test -- could she trust his confidence.
"We'll keep it between us. And Becky." He believed, ultimately, Becky had the best chance at reaching Amelia. And there were few secrets between him and Becky since she'd taken on leading the team. That's how it worked.
"Okay."
"Okay," echoed Henry. "How's school?"
She hesitated, but only to accept the change of topic. "It's good. There's so much going on I don't have time to worry about stuff." She paused. He imagined a shrug. "Except at night."
He inferred that was her explanation for the call. "It's hard to sleep?"
"I miss my cat."
He smiled. "We're here when you need us."
In Henry's profession -- all of them -- it was unusual to not get a phone call after television went to "late night".
"No. You can call any time." He disentangled himself from Becky and moved into the other room. Becky nodded after. She was used to the late calls, too. "But it is late."
Amelia was quiet. Henry waited, it was intended as a question.
"Mal and Lindy were taken off their teams."
Henry frowned.
"And not put on any others."
"I've heard that," he answered with some caution. He heard Amelia take a breath.
"Did you have something to do with it? Was that your suggestion?"
Henry sighed inwardly. "It wasn't my suggestion."
"Do you agree?"
Henry couldn't decide what he thought of this line of questioning. As it pertained to Amelia. As it pertained to the others -- "Amelia, it's not appropriate for me to answer that question. Or discuss this with you at all."
"It's not fair."
He imagined her hands in fists, glaring over arms crossed tightly across her chest. "What's not fair?"
She didn't answer right away. He thought he could hear her weighing how to answer but it was probably his imagination. "How come I was reassigned?"
Henry considered. Whatever he answered, she'd probably argue -- and he was pretty sure it wasn't what she was really getting at either. "Well, the DC team is the closest while you're at school."
"That's not what I mean." She sounded frustrated. "Why do I get to be on a team and they don't?"
Henry shook his head; she didn't give up easily. "I'm sorry, we can't talk about it."
"Can you look into something for me?"
"Is it about Lindy or Mal?"
"It's about me."
Henry sat back in his chair. "I'm listening."
Again, she hesitated. He waited.
"Do you remember the party we had the last time the teams got mixed up?"
He pursed his lips. Early February. "Vaguely."
"I want to tell you what I remember and I want you to find out what parts are true."
Henry straightened, frowning. "I'm not sure I understand."
"I talked to Tony Stark twice that night but I think only one time really happened."
Henry noted that her tone was matter-of-fact now.
"Have you told anyone else about this?"
Another hesitation. Now he imagined her biting her lip. "What part?"
He settled back into the chair again. "Maybe you should start at the beginning." He heard another breath before she began, still matter-of-fact.
"Tony gave me champagne. Two glasses. And my dad found us and said I shouldn't be drinking. Tony left and I talked to my dad for a bit and then I think he went to yell at Tony again." Her voice changed slightly. "He does that."
Henry nodded. He understood exactly what she meant about Peter. "I remember some of this."
"Right." Another breath. "Someone gave me a glass of wine and my dad found me drinking it and I got in trouble. Again, or, more."
Henry nodded, again, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Yes."
"He said I should wait, we were going to leave, he just had to do whatever he had to do. . . and then. . .Tony found me and he congratulated me. . . as if he hadn't spoken to me at all yet."
She'd started to sound a little breathless. Henry kept his voice steady. "Those parties are always hectic and Tony has to talk to a lot of people. . ."
"Which is why he's really good at it and doesn't make mistakes. And even if he forgot me, Daddy was upset. But. . . but he was most upset with me which means he saw me drinking." He could discern panic and pleading in her voice. But there was a familiar stubbornness as well. "So something had to be real. Right?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. He heard her catch her breath. "I wish you'd told me some of this before now." He listened carefully for her response. She was quiet so long he started to worry.
"I'm sorry."
She sounded calmer. Good. "Why are you telling me now?"
"I need to know what's going on with me."
Henry took a deep breath. Somehow this conversation left him more and less concerned about her at once. "I'll need to speak with your father and Tony."
"I know."
It occurred that the earlier questions about Mal and Lindy had been a test -- could she trust his confidence.
"We'll keep it between us. And Becky." He believed, ultimately, Becky had the best chance at reaching Amelia. And there were few secrets between him and Becky since she'd taken on leading the team. That's how it worked.
"Okay."
"Okay," echoed Henry. "How's school?"
She hesitated, but only to accept the change of topic. "It's good. There's so much going on I don't have time to worry about stuff." She paused. He imagined a shrug. "Except at night."
He inferred that was her explanation for the call. "It's hard to sleep?"
"I miss my cat."
He smiled. "We're here when you need us."