made a good point that the last chapter was quite short, so I figured I'd go ahead and give y'all another one! By the way, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favourited, I love love love getting all the emails with the notifications, and the reviews have been sooo nice! Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. So keep it up!

I'm writing chapter eleven right now, so I'm doing well with making sure I have plenty of chapters in between to post in case I'm hitting a blank! Go me.

Anyway, I have a job interview tomorrow so keep me in your thoughts 3

Enjoy xo

(Edited to include my separation of the chapter into two bits)

Chapter Six - Reunited

Mikaela wakes up shivering on one of the soft couches in Avengers Tower's recreational area. It's 6:17am precisely, and the sun is blasting through the massive windows lining the side of the building. She groans, rolling onto her side to press her face into the cushions, clutching at the locus of agony on top of her neck. She has never, in her life, felt this terrible before. The light is painful, the noise of her own groan worse, but the pounding her brain is taking beats everything else by lightyears.

Cool steel presses against the back of her head, and a low voice commands, "Name."

"JARVIS," Mikaela grunts into the cushions.

"Cute," the voice replies. The gun is cocked and pressed harder against her. "Try again."

Mikaela exhales, turning her face towards the ceiling, taking a moment to find her mutation. She lets JARVIS see her. "J, a little help," she mumbles.

"Ah, Miss Romanoff, this individual is not a threat to you or the team," his English accent swoops in.

Far too loudly.

Mikaela covers her ears, groaning again. "No need to shout, Jesus Christ," she hisses.

"You know this girl?" Romanoff asks, removing the gun from Mikaela's head.

"As well as one can, given the circumstances," JARVIS replies. "Though I have not seen her for two years."

"Road trip," Mikaela mutters, rolling onto her back and flinging her forearm over her eyes.

"What is she, some long lost kid of Stark's?" Romanoff quips.

"Ha!" Mikaela scoffs. "He wishes."

"I honestly could not tell you," JARVIS says, sounding amused.

"How old are you?" The Black Widow asks her.

Mikaela gestures vaguely. "I don't know, thirteen? Fourteen?" Her face contorts in concentration. "Fourteen. I think."

"What are you, Scottish?"

"Yes, why do you have so many questions?" Mikaela whines.

"Get ready for some more, shithead," a new voice announces when an elevator swishes open.

Mikaela rubs her eyes for a moment so that she can gather herself. She doesn't remember making the decision to come here - she doesn't remember much of anything from last night - and she kind of feels like, in hindsight, it is a bad idea. Why would she want to be here?

"Didn't think I'd see you again after you set my own suit against me and stormed outta my house like a crazy person," he says, his words sharp and tense.

She forces herself to sit up, running a hand through her hair as she finally makes eye contact with him. His jaw is clenched, and when his eyes catch the scar on her cheek, he turns his back on her and heads to the bar.

"Some people came after the school and captured a bunch of kids," Mikaela sighs, the memory still making her sick with guilt. "The school is well shielded, and you had - for some reason - insisted on finding it around the same time they attacked."

"However well you think your school is shielded, JARVIS is ten times better than that. There is no way someone got the location through me," he tells her from the bar.

Mikaela glances at Romanoff, blended in to the background but still paying full attention. She then looks to Stark as he returns from the bar, carrying a glass of water with some ice cubes. She frowns at him, guilt twisting her stomach again. It only gets worse when he hands her the glass and sits on the couch opposite her.

"Yeah, I know," she replies eventually, rubbing the back of her neck. She looks down into her glass. "I'm sorry."

He clears his throat, but doesn't say anything. For a moment, it's silent.

"And I'm also sorry for missing out on… everything," she concedes.

When she looks up at him, he's frowning at her. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"I mean all the shit that happened," she says, straightening up. "Pepper… the aliens." Her chest tightens at the memory of the footage she watched. "You flew through a portal into space and you almost didn't make it back," she says quietly.

He blinks. "It was the only thing to do."

Mikaela swallows and looks away, unsure of what she's even trying to say to the guy.

"Where the hell were you?" he asks suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugs. He's not angry, but he's certainly not happy.

"I had to fix it," she says, softer than she expected. She is hyper aware of the gun still in her backpack at her feet.

"What do you mean? Did you rescue the kids?" he asks.

Mikaela nods. "And I made sure it wouldn't happen again."

He glances at Romanoff, frowning. "Okay, and what the hell does that mean?"

Mikaela shakes her head and takes a drink, cherishing the freezing-cold liquid as she gulps it down. She puts the glass on the floor by her backpack and looks back at Stark. He's still waiting on an answer. "We had to get rid of the people behind it," she says.

"We?" he repeats, his eyebrows lifting questioningly. "Who is we?"

Mikaela is starting to feel uncomfortable. She doesn't want to tell him all of this shit, she doesn't have to, so why the fuck is she going to? "I hired a merc."

"Jesus Christ," he hisses, throwing a frustrated hand in the air. "You were with a goddamn mercenary for two years?" he exclaims. "And, what, you went around killing the people who took those kids?" He is angry now, for sure.

Mikaela can feel herself getting defensive. "Well, he did most of the killing, but fuck yeah we did," she retorts.

Stark's face falls. "What?" he mutters. "Most? Did you say he did most of the killing?"

Mikaela glances at Romanoff, at the unreadable expression on her face, before she looks back to Stark, and the way he looks like his world has just crumbled. It almost makes her feel guilty for a moment, but she is used to justifying this to herself by now. She has to own it, to take responsibility for it.

"The people who captured those kids, it was a collaboration between an organisation intent on experimenting on mutants, and my old gang, led by a shithead called Diez. The last time I had seen him he promised he would end me and called me an abomination. He was scum."

Stark just breathes for a moment, watching her. "You killed him?" he asks quietly, although it's more of a statement.

Mikaela refuses to break eye contact, refuses to back down. But, for some reason, she can't give him a straight answer. Maybe it's the pain in his eyes. "They've all been dealt with, every last one of them," she says instead.

"Did your mutant friends know about this?" he asks after a silence.

"I think they were keeping tabs on us through DP," she supplies.

He stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks aimlessly away from the couches. "Yeah, they never told me about that," he mutters.

Mikaela stands up as well, frowning at his back. "What do you mean?"

He looks over his shoulder at her with mock ignorance. "What? Oh, well, when you left, I strangely felt a little concerned for my safety and that of your own, and it only grew after a whole year of nothing from you, so I got in contact with your friends. They told me you were fine. They didn't tell me you were on a murderous rampage," he snaps, his lips twisting in anger.

Mikaela refuses to feel guilty about that. "Mutant business," she shrugs.

He turns to face her fully and paces towards her. "Why didn't you ask for help, Ghost? We could have taken care of it and you could've-"

"Could have what?" she retorts, scowling up at him as she takes a step closer. "Stayed hidden like a coward? Refused to take responsibility and let everyone else face the consequences of my actions?" He tries to say something but she cuts him off. "Stark, if I hadn't pissed Diez off in the first place, none of this would have ever happened. Those kids wouldn't be traumatised now. Some of them were eight years old, for fuck's sake! We're lucky Deadpool and I got to them as soon as we did - you have no idea how fucking horrible humans can be to us."

His lips are pursed, his eyes wide with anger. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but harsh. "Maybe I don't. But you don't need that kind of blood on your hands. You're a kid, Ghost."

"I'm not, though, am I?" she frowns. He clenches his jaw and looks away. "I haven't been a kid since I was four years old and my mutation first showed itself."

Mikaela is hardly aware of the other inhabitants of the tower. Some of them might even be in the room now, but she barely even has the energy to focus on Stark alone. Her headache has gotten even worse with her anger and their fight; she just wants to go to sleep for the next week.

He glances at her cheek again and gestures at his own. "What's this?" he asks.

Mikaela doesn't want to tell him that Deadpool gave her it during one of his mood swings. She doesn't need Stark flying off to confront the mercenary who can grow back any limb that gets blown off.

"Occupational hazard," she shrugs. "I'm sure you have a few of your own."

He scoffs, but he is not amused. "Trying to play the hero?"

She rolls her eyes. "I told you I'm in the grey area."

"You might wanna check that, looks like it's getting a little darker," he retorts, bitter.

Mikaela just looks at him, shaking her head. "As if you haven't killed people to protect your friends-"

"What I do is bigger than that," he cuts in angrily.

Mikaela throws her hands up in disbelief. "I was protecting my species, same as you!" she snaps at him. "These people are ruthless and relentless! If we didn't get rid of them, they would have come back at us ten times harder!"

"There are other ways to go about these things," he argues. "Ways that don't end with you killing someone!"

"They were everywhere, Stark, they were in the fucking governments!" she shouts. "This was the only way!"

"No," he mutters harshly, pointing at her, "You didn't have to go. You didn't have to kill a man."

Mikaela brings her hands to her face to clutch it, struggling to contain her anger and frustration. She moves them up into her hair, exhaling, then lets them drop to her sides. She looks at him, and shakes her head, deflated. "Why do you care?" she breathes out, her chest tight.

He watches her silently for another moment, before he bites out, "Beats the shit out of me, kid. Why did you come back?"

She scowls at him, almost angry that he doesn't know why; but she doesn't even know herself. "Beats the shit out of me," she spits. A glance away from him tells her that they've drawn an audience. "Next time I feel the impulse, I'll ignore it," she mutters, incapable of making eye contact with him anymore. She picks up her backpack, the weight reminding her again of the gun, and throws it over her shoulder. She chances a look at Romanoff, who is frowning between the two of them, before Mikaela walks away from them both. She can feel the eyes burning into her as she passes the bodies mulling around, but she refuses to look up. The elevator pings open, waiting for her, and she steps inside, staring at the floor as the doors close behind her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Mikaela walks up the long driveway leading to Xavier's school. She can hear the shouts and laughter of kids playing on the grounds, and it only brings her mood down further. She feels numb after her fight with Stark. She feels numb because she doesn't know what to do with herself now. She feels numb because she doesn't know who she is, what her purpose is. She had a purpose with Deadpool, hunting down the people who attacked the school, for two years. Then she killed Diez and suddenly it was all over - the fear, the caution, the anger, the mission for revenge. She told Stark she was protecting her species, but Mikaela wonders how true that is, whether it was actually all just self-preservation.

When she comes to the big wooden doors, she stops, staring at the intricate carvings. What if it had all been self-preservation? What if the reason she never fits in anywhere is because she is literally incapable of building connections with people? What if Stark was right, and the grey area she inhabits is growing darker? What if it doesn't stop growing darker? What is she going to become?

She is considering turning away when the door swings open, revealing a stony-faced Logan, sporting one of his infamous scowls. She looks up at him, just breathing, waiting for him to come at her with some biting remark.

"You coming in?" he asks instead.

She takes a moment to look around her, at the sunshine and happiness. Then she looks back at him, and she sees someone who fits in as poorly as she does. "Am I still welcome?" she asks in reply, figuring that they must all know by now.

"Yeah, kid," he says gently, stepping aside to give her space.

She pulls her bag strap further up her shoulder and nods, before she steps inside.

"Mikaela?" a woman's voice asks, and she looks to see Storm descending the staircase. "Oh my God, look at the size of you," the white-haired woman chuckles.

Mikaela attempts a smile back at her, her chest tightening at the knowledge that they must all know. Storm comes to stand in front of her, smiling gently, and runs her thumb over the scar on Mikaela's cheek.

"The Professor wanted to see us when you got back," Logan says from behind them.

They walk to his office, Logan leading the way while Storm follows closely at Mikaela's side. Her chest feels tighter with every step, wondering what kind of conversation is waiting for her behind those doors. She doesn't have the energy to fight anymore.

When they enter, Mikaela sees that Scott and Jean are standing at the Professor's desk, while the man himself is sat behind it. They smile at her when she looks at them, but she still feels massively uneasy. Logan closes the door behind them and leans against it, crossing his arms. Storm stays at Mikaela's side, while Scott and Jean move over so that the Professor can see everyone. They must all know.

"Welcome back, Mikaela," the Professor says kindly. "It's good to see you again."

Mikaela glances at their faces. "It is?" she replies in a poor attempt at humour.

Jean smiles sympathetically at her. "You don't need to worry, Mikaela. Yes, we all know what happened, but that doesn't change anything."

"Obviously it would have been better if that shithead had just done it himself," Logan mutters from behind them.

Mikaela glances at him before looking back to the Professor. "Wade said you'd been keeping an eye on us through him?"

Charles nods. "It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience, being inside his mind, but we had to make sure you were safe. It was the only thing stopping me from sending Logan out for you."

"When we saw what he did to you," Storm speaks up, shaking her head, "We almost did send Logan. But you learned how to handle Wade, so we knew you were on top of it."

Mikaela nods slowly. "And Diez?" she asks reluctantly.

Scott clears his throat. "We don't think it should have been you," he says, glancing at Jean. "But," he shrugs, "It needed to be done. The guy was relentless."

The tightness in Mikaela's chest explodes all of a sudden, and warmth fills her. She feels a smile grow on her face and her eyes sting with tears, and she knows that she has nothing to worry about. These people are as close to a family as she'll ever get. "Thank you," she says sincerely. "I'm glad someone understands."

The Professor comes around his desk towards her. He takes a hand in both of his, holding it close. "You are a good person, Mikaela. There are children here who have continued to grow and laugh and live because of you. They didn't suffer nightmares because they knew that you were going to stop the organisation."

Mikaela blinks and clears her throat. "I'm not a good person, Professor," she replies quietly, thinking of her time with the gang.

"Our pasts do not define us," he tells her. "You have grown since you first stepped through my doors. You have changed lives, for the better, since you stepped through my doors. Do not doubt yourself," he says, looking at her knowingly. "Open yourself up, Mikaela; let them in."

Later, when Mikaela is back in her old room, in awe that they kept it free for her, she sits on her bed contemplating their discussion. She is comfortable in herself now knowing that these people do mean something to her, and that she means something to them. It's not magically solved all of her socialising problems, nor has it given her a new purpose in life, but she knows now that she is capable of building connections with people, she's just bad at maintaining them.

It makes her wonder about Stark, though. She blinks slowly, focusing her mind as her eyes turn grey. She finds Stark in his room at the Tower, and is surprised to find him watching the footage of their fight. His phone is projecting it into the air, and when she starts to walk out, he rewinds it back to when he leaves the elevator. She watches him watch it three times, looking at the tension in his face and body, the way his knuckles are white from clutching his hair. At one point, he pauses the footage and zooms in on her face, looking at the scar on her cheek. And then he spots the one under her jaw, and he swipes his hand angrily, making the phone stop projecting.

Mikaela takes herself out of the Tower and returns to the school, blinking away the grey in her eyes. She runs a hand over her face, exhaling. Maybe she should try to repair that.