—chapter four:
up close and personal

"SHE'S GOT THAT
MAGIC TOUCH."

It was safe to say that Jackson had grown up to be a tactile learner. Until she had been burdened with the gloves her mother made her wear after the incident with her classmate, she had come to know that she learned better kinesthetically. Whether that be with the physical or the emotional, she could learn the object of her interest better if she got her hands on it. Which was why she had never been able to learn about her ex-boyfriend.

    She had never gotten the chance to touch him because he was always at arm's length when it came to her. The last six months were practically hell and with him at a distance, Jackson had gotten better at reading people from afar when she couldn't get a hand on them. It wasn't great because it disabled the one thing she needed in order to feel them—literally.

    Jackson had always wondered why she was so touchy. Then she figured it had something to do with the lack of affection she got from her parents and her ex-boyfriend—the hugs were always cut short and then they'd pry her off of them whenever the hug lasted longer than three seconds (she learned that a full, satisfying hug lasted for eight seconds). When she had gotten too old to sleep with a teddy bear, she switched to hugging her pillow because she had no one to hold at night.

    As for the one night stands, she hadn't bothered holding onto them because there was no use in getting attached when they were going to leave her the next morning. It had been such a vicious cycle she had gone through the past year.

    Touching now was different.

When the two were in Kolkata, Bruce had become quick to learn that Jackson kept herself at a distance. She comforted the patients who needed solace but she kept her gloves on, sad that she couldn't ease their pain. It hadn't been anything too worrying, as he had also learned that there came a pattern to her tactility. Whenever he was being handed a cup of coffee in the morning, Jackson would use her free hand to touch his wrist for comfort, even if there was a layer between them.

    And when the two would sit down for dinner, she'd pass behind him and squeeze his shoulder before taking her seat. On occasion, a hug would turn into more of a hold with Jackson's arms wrapped around his neck and her nose in the crook of his neck until she'd pull back to cup his face. Then she'd smile and let go before going about the rest of her day.

"I gotta ask," Bruce had started, "is there any reason why you're so touchy? Even if you have your gloves on, you're always touching something." He already had a really good guess lined up but he wanted confirmation.

    Jackson had sat up against the wall, pulling the sheet up around her in a protective manner. "I learn better that way. I get a better sense of what I'm looking at by touching. It's like I can understand by just holding the thing in my hands."

    For a moment, Jackson had debated it, twisting her bare fingers and pulling at them, almost as if she was making sure they were still there. Timidly, she had cupped Bruce's face and had been careful not to look him dead in the eye, so it wouldn't be too overwhelming for either of them. "You're angry about. . .something. I can't pinpoint and tell you what it is you're angry about because I'm not a mind reader, but I'd like to think it's how you've kept yourself in check all these years. It's a little strange, if I'm gonna be honest. . .but I get it." Then she quickly let go and began to pick at the bedsheet to keep her hands busy.

    "How'd you get all of that from just touching me?" Bruce had quirked an eyebrow at her. Jackson had shrugged. "Comes with the territory, I guess. And also the probable lack of affection I got growing up, even now. So if I were to say that I was a hugger, I'd be lying. I'm. . .just trying to make up for lost time."

    "Oh" was all Bruce had said in response because he didn't know what else to say. Instead, he had reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Jackson's ear. 

    She had leaned into the touch and smiled softly, shifting to situate her head on Bruce's shoulder. "You're the only one who hasn't gotten weirded out by my touchiness. Thank you for that, by the way."

    "I'm a scientist, Jackson. I've seen plenty of weird things. And as someone who's got a little green-eyed monster inside of them, I've seen weirder. It's just what makes you all the more incomparable, birdie."

    "How come's no one called you Envy?"

    "Oh my God, Jackson."

    "What?" Jackson had lifted her head off of Bruce's shoulder to look at him. "I'm being one hundred percent serious. It makes sense."

So when Jackson had the same idea about taking a look at the scepter, but not going any further than just looking, she thought about that night—that surge of emotions she got after not having actually touched someone in years. It would've been drastic if she hadn't been loose about concentrating.

    Following behind Bruce and Tony, she thought of all the potential connections the scepter could've had to the Tesseract, granted that she hasn't seen it yet. The one solid connection she could only make was that the scepter was being powered by the Tesseract, which seemed to be a really obvious given. But it was a step in the right direction.

    "Marie Curie," said Tony, snapping his fingers and pulling Jackson out of the mess that was her head. Jackson blinked, shaking her head. "What? I was in the middle of thinking about something."

    "You must've been thinking real hard, then. You were silent for about a solid two minutes. I counted."

    "I was concentrating."

    "Tell me about yourself, Marie." Tony was quick to switch subjects.

    "Well," Jackson almost caught a crick her neck by the whiplash of the subject change, "I graduated from Yale at the top of my class— "

    "We all got degrees from Ivy Leagues," Tony waved his hand as they all walked into the lab, dismissing that, "tell me something else."

    That was new. Not many people actually wanted to know anything else about Jackson. She'd just spew out her usual academic achievement shtick and be done with it before moving on to the next topic at hand.

    "I was a gifted kid. All of my academic rewards were my greatest achievements," Jackson sighed, crossing her arms. "If I did anything else then my parents didn't want to hear it."

    "Now we're getting somewhere," Tony pointed at her, "a parental sob story."

    "There's really nothing much to sob about. I did what I had to do and kept out of their way. Then the second I graduated from high school with a tattoo on my neck, they cut me off. I suddenly wasn't their picture-perfect daughter, anymore. All because of a stupid tattoo," Jackson let out a wry laugh at that part. "You'd really think they'd hold out on me because I did so well but anything I did was because of them. The one thing I did for myself was apparently the last—and only—straw."

    Jackson looked up at Tony expectantly. "You want me to keep going or. . ."

    "Knock yourself out," said Tony and Jackson continued.

    "So I graduated from college, met a guy, and we hit it off really well. The first six months? Absolute wonderland. The last six were all downhill from there. I mean, nothing physical happened, but it was just so emotionally draining. Turns out he's been avoiding me because I didn't see him all day and he sleeps on the couch at night.

    "So he breaks up with me, it's our anniversary, and I don't see him again because I'm going to bed. Another couple of months roll by and I go on this bender where I'm just. . .emotionless. Completely apathetic. It sucked, I wouldn't recommend it because I woke up with a headache from crying myself to sleep all night. Then I learned that having emotions is good and that it's healthy to cry every once in a while. So there you go. A sob story with a happy ending."

     "Do you tell everyone that? Do you have an abridged version or. . ." Tony asked and Jackson laughed. "You said you have a tattoo?"

     "Yeah." Jackson lifted her hair to reveal the inking on the back of her neck. "It's a Carrie Fisher quote."

    "'Stay afraid but do it, anyway'," Tony mumbled, reading it. "You a Star Wars fan?"

    "Mhm." Jackson nodded. "My birthday's May fourth. Get it? 'May the Force', May the fourth?"

    Tony nodded, looking between Jackson and Bruce. "I'm really glad you guys found each other."

    Jackson beamed, hesitating a little. "Can I try something? I need you to come here for a sec."

    "Okay. . ." Tony strode over to her and she scanned his face, looking him over. Tony chuckled. "I'm flattered, Marie, but I'm kinda seeing someone at the moment."

    "You're suspicious about something," Jackson said, searching his eyes. "You've got this nagging feeling that something's wrong."

    "Are you a mind reader now?"

    Jackson shook her head, releasing Tony's face from her grasp. "I can't read minds. I just read feelings. Or at least I think I can. I'm probably just a really good guesser."

    "And when did you discover this little talent of yours?" Tony asked, curious.

    "I've always been a rather emotional person. I understand a lot of things that way. And I guess with the whole 'being-in-touch-with-my-emotions' spiel, I can understand feelings, too. Why the interrogation, Stark?"

    "No interrogation here. You're just a lot more interesting than I thought, Marie."