The Big Picture || Tony Stark

Two || Cal

02

Cal

It felt like hours before Eleanor gained enough control over her brain to locate the tiny, dirty shop that was Joe's, despite it being only two blocks away. Her head was pounding and the chatter that came from the coffee shop as she entered was not helping. The room wasn't empty, but it wasn't the same place she trotted to before work, either.

Whether it was the air conditioner on full blast or the shock that had yet to wear off, she couldn't stop shaking, and she found herself looking over shoulder as the glass door closed to make sure no one entered after her.

It only took her a second to spot Cal, with his curly, blonde hair and unkempt beard that he hadn't bothered to trim since his third child was born twelve years ago. Both Eleanor and his wife had begged him to shave it, but he kept saying that the only time he would ever shave it was during the Apocalypse and he would need to eat the crumbs that nestled in his beard hairs to survive.

Today it looked especially ridiculous, with the remnants of orange Cheeto crumbs outlining his mouth and a blob of ketchup around his chin that he kept licking. Eleanor would've teased him about it, if she wasn't so blurry with fright.

He sat in their usual booth in the corner, and as Eleanor slid across from him, he didn't look up from the phone in his hands.

"I've been sitting here for a half hour. I might not have anything better going on at three o'clock in the afternoon than sitting in a coffee shop on my phone, but that doesn't mean you should keep a guy waiting."

"I'm sorry." It hurt to talk between her dry mouth and chattering teeth.

He made an unconvinced sound. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"I didn't hear you calling."

Cal made a tiny grumbling noise, something about how that was the lamest excuse ever, before he finally looked up. His expression was a mix of boredom, but when he saw his cousin huddled in the booth, pale faced, and wild eyed, his face changed in an instant and he put down his phone.

"What happened to you? You look like shit." He took a sip of his iced tea, and Eleanor took a drink out of the coffee mug in front of her. The coffee was cold and too bitter, but she could no longer taste the bile in her mouth, and that in itself was a blessing.

"My house got broken into."

"What?" Cal demanded, his face suddenly full of distress. "Did they take anything valuable?"

Eleanor shook her head and that movement was enough to make her feel like fainting. "No – only a painting."

"He didn't..." His voice faltered. "They didn't hurt you?"

Eleanor knew what he meant, but she took a few deep breaths before she trusted herself to speak again. "He didn't touch me. I locked him in my studio and ran downtown."

"Is he still in there?"

Eleanor shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, all the while suppressing the urge to cry and curse senseless. "I have a window in there and it's only one story."

"Did you call the police?"

"No, I was in shock," Eleanor explained, holding her temples as a wave of nausea overturned her stomach. "I didn't want to talk to anybody."

Cal's phone was in his hands in an instant. "I'll call them, and then I'll call Lucy to make arrangements for you to stay with us."

"That isn't necessary – "

"Do you know what percent of burglars return? Fifty percent – I learned that from a hot dog vender." Eleanor's expression must've been somewhere between appalled and on-the-verge of fainting because he softened his tone and said, "I just want you to be safe, Ellie."

Eleanor swallowed.

"Thank you, Cal, but I don't think he's coming back."

"I'm not taking any chances. You're staying with us at least until we get you a new lock and report this to the police."

Eleanor thought about that poorly installed lock of hers. She had meant to get a new one, but at the time it just seemed like another useless expense, seeing as she had nothing to steal. Now that her studio of all places, her safe haven, her home, had actually gotten broken into, she felt violated. But she couldn't think about that now. If she did, she'd cry, and if she cried now, she might never stop.

HOURS LATER, Eleanor was still thinking about that, as the officers paced through her studio. The place she once considered sacred was not only tainted by the robber, but by the officers who took pictures of the broken window he'd busted to escape through and moving around every painting in the room. Eleanor did her best to be cooperative as she described the ordeal to the police – yes, she saw the intruder; yes – she could describe what he was wearing; no – she didn't see his face.

"And this painting that he took – describe it."

Oh, it was nothing, really. To you it was probably just her face and half of her upper body plastered on a canvas, but to her, it was her livelihood – the only self-portrait that remained unscathed from her beginning years as an artist.

"And the rest of your shop," the officer mentioned in an offhand tone, motioning to the foundation that took her years and thousands of dollars to rebuild. "Is it insured?"

"No," Eleanor said wearily.

"Alright. Is there anyone else who has access to your home? Anybody we should be aware of?"

She was fairly certain she had answered this question at least twice already. "Other than my cousin – no."

"Did you recently purchase any medication – "

Eleanor was instantly on the defensive.

"What does my medical history have to do with this?"

"Nothing," the officer said quickly, his entire presence a pillar of calm. "It's just that some drugs have street value."

Eleanor knew that the anger she felt was unreasonable – he was only doing his job. But, at the moment, all she wanted was to find an empty, quiet space to sob until she felt a little better about the mess today has become.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It isn't unusual for people who encounter burglars to be on edge." The officer's unruly features spread into a tiny smile that should've comforted Eleanor, but instead filled her with dread. "But by the looks of it, it's safe to say it's a simple case. He came in, saw nothing valuable, and took the first thing he could find. It doesn't look like he'll come back anytime soon."

Eleanor felt her head bob up and down on numb shoulders, but as she chewed on her fingernails, she couldn't shake that hollow feeling in her chest.