#started feeling like i could write an essay on owen's mental state/thought process regarding this

[universalfanfic]

@inkoutsidethelines Here is Mary and Owen's convo about his job as a superhero. I feel like I could've filled out the discussion more... but I want to post it now so.

(Mary belongs to Ink)

Mary snapped back into the present when she realized how quiet it was. She’d been folding some laundry in a daze, but with a three year old and two under two, quiet was never a good sign. 

She dropped the towel back in the basket and turned to where the boys had been. Theodore and Bradley had already learned how to help each other out of their playpen, and she was seriously considering adding a screen on top to lock them in. 

“Mikey!” 

“Yeah, mommy!” 

Mary marched down the hall and found all three boys huddled around a few scraps of paper, a leather bound journal, and a scattering of crayons. She rushed forward as Bradley stopped drawing on the paper and looked over at the wall speculatively.

Mary snatched Bradley up and held him on one hip as she put her hand on the other. Bradley laughed at the quick movement and threw his crayon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Mikey looked down at his crayon and back up at her. 

“Coloring.” He held up the paper he scribbled on to show her. “See! I’m showing T-eeo and B-ladley how to draw.” 

Mary bit her tongue and fought to keep her stern expression. 

“You need to ask first,” she said. “You know Theodore and Bradley aren’t supposed to be out by themselves.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m watching them!” 

“Mommy or daddy needs to be with them,” she clarified. 

With a sigh, she knelt down to start cleaning up the papers. The journal looked like one of Owen’s sketchbooks and she groaned that they’d clearly torn out a few pages. Mikey pointed as she took the paper he’d colored on. 

“I made it better,” he said. “I didn’t like that one; it was too scary.” 

Mary frowned at that. Owen didn’t draw scary things. Landscapes, portraits, some still life if he was trying to figure out lighting, but nothing a child should find scary. 

She looked past the rainbow scribbles to the original sketch. It was done in a heavy, dark ink. Not Owen’s usual style. 

The silhouette of a man seemed to be falling down a hole, many grasping hands reached up towards him from the bottom. 

It hit her that Mikey had somehow pulled out one of Owen’s private art journals. The ones he didn’t even share with her, though she didn’t know how Mikey found it. Owen was usually careful with where he placed those ones. 

Mary stared at the picture another moment then folded it up and shoved it in her pocket. 

“You made it very colorful, but we don’t color in daddy’s books, remember? Now let’s clean this up before he gets home.” 

Mary kept the picture in her pocket after Owen got home from work, all through dinner, until after they put the kids to bed. They settled on the couch and Mary finally brought it up. 

“So,” she said, “the kids got into one of your sketchbooks today.” 

Owen let out a half-amused groan as he threw his arm over her shoulder on the back of the couch. 

“How much damage did they do?” 

Mary licked her lips. “I don’t know. I didn’t look through the rest.”

Owen cracked one eye open to give her a questioning look and Mary reached into her pocket. He accepted the folded paper and his demeanor shifted as he opened it up and saw what was inside. 

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate me looking through that one.” 

“Right.” Owen’s jaw ticked and he looked away, shoving the paper into his own pocket. “Thank you.” 

Mary pressed her lips together and tamped down on her impulsive reaction to his dismissal. 

“Is that it?” 

“I’ll make sure I put it where they can’t reach it from now on.” 

Her frustration spiked and she leaned away from him. 

“So am I just supposed to pretend I didn’t see it? Is that what you want me to do? Is that whole sketchbook filled with drawings like that?” 

Owen’s eyes sharpened and he pulled his arm back. 

“We’re both allowed to have our privacy, Mary.” 

“That’s not what that was, and you know it,” she snapped. “That wasn’t just some frustration you were working out on your own. That- that looked like despair.” 

Owen blinked rapidly and leaned forward to rub at his forehead.

“It’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Mary pressed her lips together again and her tone shifted to something softer.

“That isn’t fair.” Owen didn’t move. “Whenever I was going through- when I was struggling with my Daredevil stuff, you always said you wanted me to open up to you. You wanted to be there for me. And when it was beyond your scope you encouraged me to find someone who would know how to help.” 

Owen worked his jaw and ran his hand through his hair in growing agitation.  He wouldn’t look directly at her. 

“This isn’t the same.” He insisted. 

“Something is clearly bothering you, Owen.” 

“It’s not the same. You- you went through traumatic events. You held yourself together through things no human should have to go through.” 

“It’s not a competition.” 

“I have nothing to compete with!” He shot back. “I have loving parents, a family, a good support network, and powers most people wish for. So if I have a bad day, I’m not going to complain about it, okay?” 

Mary sat back and rolled her tongue in her mouth. He was deflecting too hard for it to be something as fleeting as a bad day. She ought to know, she’d done it enough to her family, to him, before working through her trauma. He was just as stubborn as she was, whether he wanted to admit it or not. 

She let the silence sit long enough for him to calm down, for his words to settle. 

“Do you know what one of the first things Brenda taught me was?” She asked. 

Owen closed his eyes momentarily and let out a tense breath. He finally made himself look at her. 

“No.” 

“She taught me when I was upset, but kept it to myself, I’d inevitably end up creating distance between us. You’d feel that distance but wouldn’t know what was causing it. You might assume it was your fault, that you were failing as a husband. She taught me that ultimately it was unkind of me to hide what was bothering me, and unkind not to tell you what I needed.” 

He didn’t move as he worked through her words. Despite his tense posture she could see his eyes softening. Mary fought to keep her voice steady. 

“Please be kind enough to tell me what you need.” 

It was her plea that broke through. Owen dropped his head in his hands to hide his face, and while he didn’t audibly cry, his breathing was elevated. Mary moved up against his side and wrapped her arm around his back. 

“Owen.”

“I never wanted to be part of the Avengers program.” His voice was so quiet it sounded fragile. “Maddie tried to get enrolled early, but I- I only followed after her because I knew she’d get herself killed if I wasn’t there. And we’re Rogers’, right? It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Mary’s heart fractured a little and she ran her hand up and down his spine. 

“Owen, you aren’t obligated to follow in your parent’s footsteps.” 

He let out a short, bitter laugh. 

“Aren’t I? I have these powers, I can help people. What does it say about me that I don’t want to.” He winced at his own words and corrected himself. “No, that’s not- I don’t like hurting people. Even if they deserve it. Every day, every moment, I have to be conscientious of what I do, how much force I use. I go out every night knowing that if I’m not careful I could kill someone that doesn’t have to die. Even then, I have to hurt people, and I hate it.” 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” 

Owen looked away again, his eyes going red, his brows furrowed as if he were angry.

“Because people go to work hating their jobs everyday. I’m not special for that. I have a responsibility to you and our kids, and to the commitments I knowingly made. I can’t just stop for something as trivial as me not liking it.” 

“Yes,” Mary said, “you can. Do you hear yourself? We are not our powers, we’re people. You’re a person. You just happen to be able to do something most can’t. I know it’s so hard to separate ourselves from that, but Owen, you can’t keep doing this. You wouldn't let me, and I love you enough not to let you either.”

She tugged on his arm and he let her pull him closer. They folded into each other on the couch and let the conversation breathe as Mary ran her fingers through Owen’s curls. 

“I can’t,” Owen finally said. “Maddie-”

“Maddie is a grown woman who can make her own decisions. She knows her own limitations and the risks she takes.”

The silence settled again and Mary waited. 

“I’m supposed to lead this family,” Owen confessed. “How can I expect you all to trust me when something this- this small gets under my skin?” 

That felt much closer to the truth than his excuse about Maddie. 

“You are not less of a man because you don’t like hitting people and it upsets you.” She cupped his jaw and prompted him to look at her, the short hairs of his beard tickling her palm. He obliged, though he didn’t otherwise move; his arms stayed wrapped around her waist. 

“I love you because you are gentle, because you choose to be. Because you are kind and generous and you love with all that you are. What will hurt our family more is if we spend years watching you suffer when you don’t need to. You have a choice, Owen.” 

He pulled her closer and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. Mary kissed the top of his head and he let out a sound between a cry and a laugh. She felt his lips move as he murmured against her skin. 

“I love you. So much.” 

“I love you too. How about we relax the rest of the evening, and tomorrow we can work on your resignation?”

Owen pulled back far enough to kiss her on the lips. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think that might be a good idea.”