Psychology Fact: The largest part of what we call "personality" is how we've opted to defend ourselves against anxiety and sadness.
Stark Tower cut an imposing figure cutting through the downtown Manhattan skyline. Its architecture and design breathtaking even in a city of sky scrapers. And, the fact that it housed the famous group of heroes in the world only added to its mystique.
She clenched the folded square of pale, yellow stationary in her hand. Several names and addresses were penned in neat, elegant handwriting – the Tower in front of her the only one not crossed out.
She had memorized names and faces and titles, not wanting to leave a bad impression, should this turn out to a dead-end like the others. After three weeks with no word from her father she was growing desperate. Although, if she were honest with herself, it would be a blessing if he didn't return from wherever he was.
Approaching the glass doors, she opened the right and was immediately immersed in a hub of activity.
People in suits, lab coats and even coveralls bustled back and forth through the lobby, a group of students was being lead on a tour and several SHIELD agents stood out starkly in their uniforms.
Ducking and weaving she made her way through the masses to the white, curving reception desk.
"Hello. How may I assist you?" One of the receptionist asked.
She swallowed nervously. "I-I'm looking for Agent Coulson." Her tone was polite, if slightly questioning. "I was told this address was a possible location. It is urgent that I speak with him."
The receptionist paused, typing something into her computer, her lips slightly pursed. "Are you with the press?" She asked bluntly, not looking up.
"No."
"Are you an over-zealous fan?"
She furrowed her brow, licking her lips. "No."
The receptionist glanced up briefly. "Are you alone?"
"Yes…"
The receptionist nodded, mouse clicking as she did something on her computer before looking up. "You will be searched upon arrival to the Communal Floor." She stated and pointed to the bank of elevators across the lobby. "The middle elevator will take you right up. Do not do anything stupid."
Taking that as her cue, she walked towards the elevators, heels clicking sharply on the polished marble floor and nearly jumped as the doors slid open the moment she arrived in front of them revealing faux wood paneled walls that she leant against gratefully once the doors had slid closed.
She opened the simple, white billfold that had been tucked under her arm and slipped the square of stationary back inside before snapping it shut and tucking it back under her left arm. Smoothing down her navy-blue dress, she straightened the bow of the wide, white ribbon wrapped around her waist before lightly pinching the bridge of her nose and taking several calming breaths.
Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest and she resolved that she would have to consult Dr. Yukimura the next time she saw the indifferent, Japanese woman.
The minute the elevator doors slid open, she felt her stomach drop and her heart claw its way into her throat.
In front of her stood a man with a face that she recognized, unruly brown hair pulled back in a sloppy bun. His metal arm shined as if freshly polished, the fading red star reminding her exactly who he was.
He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around, and she issued an aborted yelp as he pressed her hands above her head against the wall next to the elevator – her billfold landed on the polished floor with a muted smack.
He wasn't searching her though, as the receptionist said would happen. Instead her pulled back, guiding her hands down until he held both her wrists in a loose grip for a moment before releasing her entirely.
Picking up her billfold, she watched in mild amusement as he ran his hands over his pink-tinged, keeping it covered as he simply pointed across the living area towards where faint strains of conversation could be heard.
"…Okay…" She murmured, and slid by him before walking in the direction he'd pointed.
Once she was a decent distance away, she glanced back over her shoulder, watching as he silently berated himself. As she looked forward again, she neared the dining room and was awash in the most enticing smells she had encountered in a long while.
She stepped into what she presumed to be the dinning/kitchen area given the large glass dining table and the open concept kitchen surrounded on three sides by panoramic views of the city.
She knew these faces – had seen and memorized each individual file when she had first gone to Director Fury in hopes that he could shed light on where her father was. Truthfully, she was grateful SHIELD had survived everything – the cleansing of HYDRA agents from its ranks, the Sokovia/Ultron incident and the so-called, petty Civil War between Steve Rogers and Tony Stark – it had kept her father far too busy to pay any real attention to her.
Whatever animosity had poisoned their ranks before was clearly gone as the Avengers smiled, laughing as they passed around crackling plates of steak – her father had liked to make fajitas once…maybe…she wasn't entirely sure. The sight was surreal – very much like restaurant where everyone dressed in their pajamas.
Opening her mouth to speak, she was halted as the air behind her became icy, her breath fogging in the air as a slippery smooth voice spoke. "It seems we have company."
All eyes focused on her, but hers focused on the person passing her. He wore a dark green tunic and loose black trousers, while his raven black hair curled around a precariously sculpted face.
Loki. It was impossible to mistake him for anybody else, especially with that sly smirk on his lips.
"Oh," Tony said, not getting up from his seat at the table. "You must be the one the front desk let up."
It took her a few moments to respond. "Yes. I'm so sorry. I had known you were eating, I would have insisted on coming back at another time."
"Nonsense." Pepper shook her head, giving her an easy smile as she waved her over. "Come on, tell us what you need." She paused. "Are you hungry?"
"No, really. It's quite alright." She replied, taking a few well practiced steps back. "I can comeback. I'm sorry to have bothered you."
Jane frowned softly, concern pooling in her brown eyes. "It's just lunch." She urged gently. "Come on. Tell us your name and we'll see if we can help you."
"Lyra. My name is Lyra." She licked her lips, at loss for how to protest further when so many eyes were watching her – expecting her to stay. Smoothing out the front of her dress she let out a weak chuckle when Wanda stood and guided her to a chair between herself and Bucky, the metal-armed soldier seeming to shy away, peaking Lyra's interest. "I'm looking for my father, Agent Coulson. Has he been in contact with you?" Lyra paused, ducking her head and brushed a honey blonde curl from in front of her cobalt blue eyes and sighed quietly. "He went on a mission approximately three weeks ago and I haven't heard from him since." She lowered her further, hair creating a curtain between her and the others. "I'm worried…"
Natasha leaned forward, resting her chin on one hand as she studied Lyra. "You know…now that I look at you…, you do look a bit like Phil."
Lyra snorted softly. "I look like my mother." That's why he hates me. She said and ran a hand through her curls. "Look, I really do appreciate your hospitality, but I really should be going." Attempting to stand, she stopped short as Bucky clamped his metal hand on her lower arm and she swallowed nervously, instinctual fear blowing her pupils wide and sending her heart pounding – she was even shaking ever so slightly.
"No." Was all he said before returning to his meal.
Lyra sank down her seat, acutely aware of the others' eyes on her as she attempted to get ahold of herself even as Loki's expression slipped into a rather impressive pout as he proceeded to angrily stab at his fajitas. His expression darkened at the few snickers shot his way.
She blinked a couple of times, folding her hands demurely in her lap, avoiding everyone's gazes. "Am I missing something?" Lyra inquired softly, and if the others noticed the sudden shift in personality, they politely didn't comment on it.
Natasha quickly shook her head, calculating gaze flicking around Lyra, no doubt trying to get a read on the girl. "Nah." She chuckled. "Only one of us is missing something." Her expression slipped smoothly to teasing as she eyed Bucky.
"Hilarious." Bucky deadpanned and flipped her off.
"Guys, behave." Steve chastised. "We have a guest."
Pietro and Scott laughed. "Yes, mother." Pietro teased, smiling around a bite of steak as Peter snickered behind his hand and Sam attempted to not bust out laughing.
"So," Tony leaned closer – too close – to Lyra and she tensed, muscles locking and tightening up. "Tell us about yourself."
Jane rolled her eyes before sharing a concerned glance with Thor. "Demanding much?" She questioned, giving Lyra an apologetic look.
"I am so sorry about him." Pepper sighed, rubbing at her temples.
Lyra shook her head, staring at the plate of fajitas Loki had slid in front of her. Clint giggled along with Wanda at the look she shot the god. "…You want me to eat?"
"Well," Vision interjected. "You do know how to eat, correct?" He questioned, sharing a curious glance with the others.
Lyra picked up the fork Darcy slid to her. "Yes." She mumbled, taking a bite. "This is delicious!"
"Bucky is an excellent cook." Loki chuckled, earning a glare from the former Winter Soldier. "Such a perfect little housewife."
"Guys, come on." Clint sighed. "Don't start another fight. The fourth floor gym is still in repair." He grumbled.
Sam snorted and shook his head, while Bruce pulled up a hologram. "You mean it's still trashed." Bruce muttered.
Lyra cocked her head to the right and glanced at Tony. "Pardon my saying so, but it seems a bit childish to start a fight over something so small."
"It was a bet." Loki defended, taking a sip of his drink. "Besides, Bucky started."
"Still awfully childish." Lyra stated, catching herself despite Wanda's nod of agreement as her cheeks heated at Loki's friendly chuckle. "Aside from that, the room's structure wasn't sound. Frankly, it's a miracle the support beams didn't give out sooner."
Tony gave her an assessing look. "And how exactly did you know that?" He asked.
Lyra jerked her head up to stare at him, swallowing thickly. "I…um…I'm taking an architecture and design class at home." She answered softly, clenching her hands in her lap. Her father was literally going to kill her when he got home. Her body ached and her mind screamed at the memory of the damage his fists could do.
"So, you're homeschooled." Pietro commented. "That's pretty cool."
Lyra nodded slowly, pushing her still half-filled plate away. "It's nice." She lied smoothly and smiled sweetly at the others. "Thank you for lunch."
Pepper and Darcy laughed lightly. "You're so polite." Pepper said and paused. "If only this punch could manage manners like yours."
"Don't count on it." Peter quipped.
"I really should be going. My tutor is probably where I've wandered off to." Lyra murmured, rising from her seat before pushing it back into place. "He's probably worried about me."
"I'm sure he's fine." Tony waved a hand. "You're with the Avengers. What could happen?"
The others snickered. "Many, many things." Jane stated. "But, Tony's right. I'm sure your tutor will be fine."
Lyra nodded, honey blonde curls bouncing. "I left a note. It's just that, I wasn't supposed to go out." She paused, hands worrying around her billfold. "But I got…concerned."
"What do you mean you're not supposed to go out?" Darcy asked, sharing a concerned look with the others. "Do you need his permission or somethin'?"
"I'm not supposed to go anywhere without him." I'm not allowed to anywhere at all. Lyra stated as she played with one of her many curls.
Silence fell, while some of the group breathed out "Oh…"
Peter spoke first. "Well from what I've been told, you're Dad's a good guy." He stated, finishing off his fajitas. "I'm sure he's just looking out for you. You are his daughter after all."
Lyra nodded, lips pressed together. If only they knew how much a monster her father was capable of being.
"Why don't I wrap you up something for you to take home." Steve offered, giving Lyra an encouraging smile.
Lyra shook her head softly. "No thank you. But I appreciate the offer." She replied politely. "Our cook will have already made something."
Before Steve could protest, the ding of the elevator arriving echoed through the Common Floor. Lyra knew those subtle clicks from the heels of very expensive dress shoes as everyone turned their focus on the approaching footsteps.
When she saw Jarvis, she heard a sharp gasp from behind her but didn't pay it any attention. She smiled widely at Jarvis and he smiled back hesitantly, steel blue eyes flickering around the dining space.
"Jarvis?" Tony whispered, voice disbelieving as Lyra switched her attention to him. She tensed as he stood, brushing past her to step closer to Jarvis and reach out only to have the other man take a practiced step back, Tony's outstretched hand curling into a fist.
Jarvis furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry, Sir." He murmured. "Have we met?"
Tony seemed to crumble instantly, face horror stricken but he didn't speak again, pressing his lips together and allowing Jarvis to walk past him. "I got home and you were gone." Jarvis scolded Lyra as he approached her, but his words lacked any bite.
Lyra licked her lips, hands clasped around her billfold that she held in front of her. "I know…I know." She smiled weakly at him. "I'm sorry. I did leave a note."
He nodded, digging into his suit jacket pocket and produced a piece of ivory stationary. "And still, you were gone." He tucked it away again, smoothing down the lapels of his suit. "Hello, I am terribly sorry for intruding on your meal."
"It's no problem." Steve said, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "You are?" He prompted, still clearly embarrassed about being caught by now a second stranger in pajamas.
Jarvis cleared his throat softly, fingers toying with the brim of the hat he held in his hands. "Edwin Jarvis, butler and private tutor to Miss Coulson." Tony looked ready to either pass out, have an anxiety attack, panic attack or all three as Pepper wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders, murmuring soothing words into his ear as she led him away.
"That's funny." Darcy frowned, pursing her full lips. "The computer thing is named Jarvis."
Jarvis cocked his head slightly. "Personal opinion aside…it is quite a name to be had." He looked over to Lyra. "We must leave at once. Your father sent word that he'd be arriving home at any time today."
Everyone watched as Lyra paled and began to tremble at the mention of her father coming home. They shared glances with each other and Lyra ducked her head and took a few calming breaths.
"Right…" She murmured, and looked up again. "I suppose we should be on our way."
Jarvis nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I appreciate the kindness and hospitality you've shown. I'm sure Lyra does as well." He said briskly. "But, we really must be going."
Lyra nodded, giving the others a brief but grateful smile. "Thank you." She said earnestly.
The others stared after them dumbfounded as they disappeared across the Common Floor and listened the elevator doors slide closed and begin its descent.
Once downstairs, Jarvis pulled open the car door for Lyra and the soft leather sighed beneath her as they exited the 'Guest Parking' garage and she cast one final look up at the Tower as Jarvis steered the car into the rush of downtown Manhattan traffic.
She folded her hands gently in her lap, body stiff with tension as she stared out the window.
Jarvis cleared his throat and she closed her eyes, fingernails digging to the soft skin of her palm. "Lyra…" It was so odd hearing him speak to her familiarly now that it was just them. "Who was that man? The one that reached out to me?"
Lyra swallowed, catching his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "His name is Tony Stark. He is a very famous man."
He looked back to the road for a moment as he executed a smooth left turn. "How did he know me?"
She shrugged, the lies slipping between her full lips before she could feel ashamed for lying to her…what exactly would he be? "Perhaps father has mentioned you before." Her eyes flicked back to stare out the window.
"Are you certain we have not met before?' Jarvis navigated the car into the ritzier part of Manhattan, the spaces between houses growing larger and larger to match the lot sizes.
Lyra kept her eyes on the soft rain that had begun to fall and streak past the window. "Yes, Jarvis." You've met before.