"You've got to concentrate, Natalie."

"Oh, really? I never would've guessed that, thank you, thank you so much for your expert advice."

Bruce smiled a little, his fingers making minute adjustments to the hidden wiring inside my bracelet. I winced as two of the wires touched each other, sending a spark of pain through my whole system. "Ok, stop doing that now?"

"Sorry," He closed the little access panel, then took a step back. "Try again."

I winced, looking to the small cut on the back of my hand. Okay, Natalie, I thought to myself. Focus.

I tried to clear my head as I flicked my fingers through the sequence on the bracelet. The nanos were programmed to interpret audible commands, and commands given through pushing buttons, but they were also supposed to respond to brainwave activity, thought patterns. But, like everything else about them, this was untested; just a prototype.

Still. It would make things easier if I did get it to work. I focused on my hand, tapping out a command on the silver band on my wrist. A few seconds later, the cut on my hand slowly, slowly began to scab over. It didn't heal completely, but the bleeding stopped. I sighed in relief and a bit of exhaustion. We'd been working with this for a long time; and it took a bit of work for the nanobots to heal something like that, despite this being their original function.

"Good," Bruce commended me. "Now, try it without the bracelet?"

I frowned, but picked up the scalpel. I winced as I tried to force it into my hand enough to break skin, but Bruce took it from me after a moment. I smiled at him a bit weakly, and he smiled apologetically back, re-opening the scabbed over injury.

I took a deep breath. Needles were nothing compared to this. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Heal. Heal the wound. Come on. I imagined it closing up, sealing itself, the blood hiding beneath unbroken skin once more. I tried to stick with the same thoughts that I'd had when I was working with the buttons; giving the nanos a pattern to recognize.

I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my side and winced. My hand remained unhealed. Bruce took a look at the display of commands on the monitor before him; the nanobots reported their activities and orders directly to Stark Tower. Banner tried not to smile too widely.

"Well, according to this, they think they're prepping you for a kidney transplant." I cursed, and he chuckled, nullifying the order. The pain stopped. "This is going to take time," he reassured me gently, tapping a direct order into his computer, notifying the nanobots of the injury on my hand. I sighed as it scabbed over again, the never-ending trickle of blood finally stopping. I wiped crimson off onto the tissue he offered, then tossed it into the trash can.

"I know," I said grumpily. "I just want to show Tony that I'm not totally worthless. I've told him before that his tech is only as good as the person using it; well, now I'm the one using it, and his tech is crap. What does that say about me?"

Banner smiled carefully. "That the tech was a prototype and edited by a Norse god?"

"That too." I acknowledged. "But come on. You know how that is; you want people to be impressed by how amazing you are from time to time. When you find out that you're not so amazing after all… It's a mega bummer."

Banner lifted an eyebrow. "You want to impress Tony Stark?" He asked, amused.

I scowled at him. "Don't twist my words, Hulk-Man. You know what I was saying."

"I do," he acknowledged, tidying up his workspace carefully. "I think that's about the best we can do for the day," he switched subjects casually. "And, whether you know it or not, you have made considerable progress." He informed me.

"Yeah, right," I answered, unconvinced. I felt less like the nanobots were being trained and more like they were training me. Every time I did something they didn't like, Zap! Some pain flared up in any one of a bazillion locations on my body. Like a rat in a maze. Bobo the trained monkey.

Dance puppet, dance.

Now that I knew who was really behind these things, I saw his handiwork everywhere. I didn't know if it was real or just in my head, but I could swear that those things were rigged just so Loki could have a laugh at my expense from time to time. I was like cable TV. I wondered if Loki ate popcorn while he watched.

I looked around. "Hey… where is Tony, anyway?"

Bruce glanced up at me from his keyboard. "You sent him to get your books, remember?"

"Well, yeah… but he's Tony. I thought he'd just ignore me and get them off the internet or something."

"Maybe he realized the seriousness of the situation."

There was a long silence as that sank in. Then Banner admitted, "So that's a bit of a stretch. Where do you think he is?"

"No where good, I'm sure." I answered suspiciously. "Even if he did go directly to the bookstore, he should've been back a long time ago."

"He's probably just running late," Bruce replied, trying to be kind, but even he sounded doubtful. "Or thinking of ways to attract Thor's attention."

"Let's hope," I said warily. "See yah later, Doc."

I waved over my shoulder and left.

I later learned exactly where Stark was at that moment in time. It was a very, very long conversation between Tony and myself.

But here is what happened:

Tony Stark knocked gently on the door, waiting patiently. He had not gone to get the books I'd asked for; he could easily get those off of the internet, after all. Instead, he'd driven straight here; and sat outside for a good while, thinking things through. That was a rare thing for him, thinking things through; he liked to do things a bit more impulsively. He had a reckless streak, he would admit it.

But this was too delicate for that. He had to plan this carefully. Be cautious.

Finally, he walked up to the porch and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. It swung open after a moment, and Tony wasted no time; he'd already planned his greeting, down to the letter.

"You cold-hearted, selfish, son of a bitch."

The cold-hearted, selfish, son of a bitch in question lifted one light brown eyebrow. His hair was a similar light brown, his eyes silver-blue, and his skin very, very pale, like he'd never seen the sun a day in his life. His hair was tousled about on his head, with the faintest hint of sideburns trailing in front of his ears. He wore a loose blue polo shirt and black pants, and socks without shoes. A little wooden pendant with a crudely carved smiley face hung from a leather cord around his neck.

"May I come in?" Tony Stark asked of him, smiling brashly. The other man looked at him in bemusement.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Tony's smile stretched. "Ah. You don't read the news much, either, do you?" The man stared in bewilderment, but Tony didn't seem to notice-or care- about his confusion. He held out a hand. "The name is Tony Stark. Or Iron Man. Or Toaster Man. Take your pick."

"Stark?" the man looked amazed. He may not have recognized the face directly, but everyone knew the name 'Stark'. Everyone. "Erm…" he glanced at Tony's outstretched hand and shook it quickly, jumpily. "My name is…"

"I know full well what your name is, Cameron," Tony answered coolly, swiftly, cutting him off. "I have been researching you. Extensively."

Cameron looked a little unnerved. "You… have?"

Tony gave him a dazzling smile. "Can I step inside?"

Cameron hesitated, looking a little off-balance. But after a moment, he stood a bit firmer. "Maybe you should tell me why you're here, first," his tone grew a touch frostier.

"Fair enough," Tony conceded. "I am a personal friend of a certain Natalie Frost. And I am here on her behalf."

Cameron blanched, swallowing tightly. His fingers subconsciously drifted up to the pendant on his neck. "Is she…?"

"She's fine," Stark answered icily. Cameron nodded and took a step backwards.

"Maybe… maybe you should come inside," he breathed after a moment. Tony kept smiling.

"Maybe I should," He answered diplomatically. As blinding as his grin was, there were shadows in his eyes. His hands clenched at his sides; one of them was clinging to a shining silver briefcase, so tightly that his knuckles were turning white…

Cameron waited for Tony to come inside, then hastily tried to clean up a bit, to organize the slight disarray of his home. The two men didn't say anything for a few moments, other than Cameron suggesting that Tony take a seat. Tony obliged, and eventually the other man sat across from him.

He swallowed, tugging at his collar. "Nat… is she…?"

"Your daughter is fine, Mr. Frost," Tony answered, cutting him off. "At least… physically speaking."

Cameron swallowed a third time, looking away. "She's not my daughter, Mr. Stark. Not anymore."

"Yes. I'd noticed," Tony kept his face calm and smooth. "You signed away full custody in the divorce. Said, quite blatantly, that you 'did not want her'. That you never had." Tony pulled a notepad from his pocket, flipped through the pages, then added, "In fact, you're even quoted as saying that 'she was the main reason you left,' which brings me to my previous sentiment, you cold-hearted, selfish son of a bitch."

He flipped the notepad closed. Cameron studied the carpet.

"Now why does someone who so clearly expressed that he doesn't care for his daughter then go on to ask if she's all right?" Tony inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

Cameron did not reply.

"Don't want to answer? Fine, I have more questions. Like this one; why were you at Natalie's house two weeks ago?"

Again, no response.

"Or what about this one: what do you want from her?"

Still nothing.

"Or maybe this: are you even sorry for the hell that you put your daughter through?"

"She's not my daughter," Cameron repeated quietly.

"Oh, really?" Tony's hand tightened on the briefcase. His tone was still fairly light. "Then whose daughter is she? Because, unless I'm very much mistaken, she has quite a few of your features. Your jaw. Your forehead. Your hair. Down to every exact detail. So whose daughter is she, if not yours?"

"Look," Cameron looked to him. "I gave her up. She's not mine anymore."

"Then why are you coming back?"

Cameron's eyes fell back down. "Because…" he swallowed. "Because of him."

Tony fell silent.

Cameron glanced back to him, pleadingly. "You have to understand," he said imploringly. "Natalie… she ruined our relationship. Everything was just fine before she came along. Everything was perfect. But once she was there, it was all over. I thought it would end, I thought it would go away… but it never did. It just got worse.

"And it was all her fault. She would see us fighting… and she'd just watch. She wouldn't say anything, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't get upset… she'd just watch. And there were times when I saw her, heard the things she'd say…"

Tony noticed a bit of the crazies in the man's eyes as he went on.

"I've always thought that, one day, Natalie would crack. That someday, something would happen. That someone would end up hurt, that someone would die. Her mother did not recognize it, but I knew the truth. I saw her for what she really was.

"And then, a few days ago, a man came to my house. I don't know who he was… but he told me that someone was going to die. That there were people in grave danger because of something that Natalie was going to do."

"And you believed him?" Tony asked, incredulous.

"What else could I do?" Cameron asked, eyes wide. "Natalie is a monster. I could see it in her eyes, even when she was young… she was a killer born. There was nothing I could have done for her; I was lucky to get away when I did… but this man, he was so sincere… he knew. I could just tell, he knew that Natalie was going to kill someone. A lot of people. And he told me that I had to stop her." He looked down. "But I don't know how…"

There was a long, weighted silence. Finally, Tony spoke up. "This man. He sounded sincere. So obviously he's right." His tone just barely conveyed his disgust. "Ok. Then I'll just have to sound a bit more sincere."

He stood, taking a few slow, measured steps towards Cameron. "I don't care what this man says. In fact, if I'm right- and I'm never wrong- then you don't have to worry about him. Everything he says is a lie, anyway. What you do have to worry about is me." He took another step forwards. Cameron's hands began to tremble. "Because if you come near Natalie again? If you let her hear what you thought of her, what you think of her now? If you come within a hundred feet of her, then you will be pissing off a lot of very dangerous people, understood?"

Cameron swallowed a final time and nodded slowly. Tony's eyes narrowed. "Because Natalie Frost has made a lot of very powerful friends since you've been gone. And every last one of us will defend her to our dying breath, if necessary. So I don't want to see your face near her, her home, her school, or anywhere that is even vaguely associated with her again. Is that clear?"

Tony's voice was grave; a rare thing for him. But that's how you know he means business; and, fortunately, that fact came through to my father's brain. He stared up at Stark and nodded once, terror-struck.

Stark grinned again. "Good. Glad we've had this talk." He sauntered towards the door. "I'll show myself out!"

My door was locked. The shades were drawn. My hand hovered over the page carefully, my cheeks red. Just thinking about this made my face go hot, imagining what the others would say if they saw this. Imagining what Loki would think when he inevitably plucked the image from my brain.

But I couldn't help it. The ideas had been raging in my mind for days; I had to draw them out, even if I burned them right afterwards. I'd taken out the camera in my room, then sat down at my desk and started to draw.

The picture before me made my ears turn red. The list of names beside it made me choke. Why was I doing this? One of them was just going to find it, and then I'd have some real problems.

But my hand traveled across the page anyway. Imagining. Re-imagining. Thinking. Re-thinking. I already had three designs and was working on the forth when I had to sit back and stare at it for a while. I felt dorky and off-balance.

Could I really pull off spandex…?

I glanced at the suit design in my sketchbook, then snapped it shut. No. I was being stupid.

Spandex wasn't my thing, after all. Maybe I'd go with something else, something a little sturdier.

No, no no! What was I thinking? I was no superhero! I was the Pizza Girl! The Normal One! That Crazy Chick with the Bubble!

I wasn't… this!

Whatever 'this' was.

I groaned and dropped my head to the desk. I just couldn't help myself; every time I thought about dressing up like one of the freaks I hung out with, thought about running around the streets stopping bad guys… my heart just went flying. But I was worthless without the Death bubble, and I couldn't use it, because then Loki would get what he wanted. I was stuck being normal for the rest of my life, hanging around all of these abnormal people.

I wasn't an Avenger.

I wasn't one of them.

I never would be.

I curled into a ball. The thought sent rippling pain through my chest. I felt… left out. I'd been a part of the group for a moment that morning, bossing people around, giving orders… but now that was over. I was just… me again. Not Electricia, or Nano-Girl, or any of those other ridiculous names I'd listed. Just Natalie Frost, human. The best title I'd ever have would be the mighty 'one who delivers the cheesy circles of life.'

I glanced to the notepad again, then sighed and flipped through the pages until I found the outfit I'd been working on. I shaded it a bit more, trying to make it look a little better.

"Miss Natalie?"

I jumped. Luckily, I didn't throw anything and shout 'die son of a bitch' this time. I whirled, looking for the source of the sound, when I realized; JARVIS.

"Yeah?"

"You have cut off my visual of this room. I am simply ensuring that you are safe."

"Oh. Yeah." I frowned. "Just… needed a little privacy." I glanced to the camera that I'd covered with one of my socks. Sighing heavily, I pulled it down. "Don't tell Tony about this. But I kind of need your help."

"My help, Miss Natalie?"

"Yeah." I held my sketchbook up to the camera. "Think you can give me a hologram of this as it would look in reality?"

JARVIS paused, likely scanning the object. "Like this, Miss Natalie?"

He was using my name too much again. I scowled, but turned to the holographic projection (I still didn't know how he was able to display those things almost anywhere in the whole Tower). My eyes widened. Wow. He captured it perfectly. JARVIS the artist. Who knew?

"That's perfect, J." I said, a little awestruck. "Um… You think that you could make it proportionate to me?"

JARVIS obliged. "May I ask the purpose of this exercise?"

"Yeah. It's to see if you can keep your big, accented mouth shut and keep something from Tony."

"Anything else?" He sounded rather bored with my quips. Stupid computer.

"It's a personal thing," I answered loftily, then, because I couldn't help it, "A human thing."

Ouch. That was mean. I didn't care at that point, though. My eyes were focused on the hologram.

"Thanks, though," I said after a moment, in an attempt to nullify my earlier hostility. Carefully, I stepped up to the projection, placing it between myself and the mirror. With my exact proportions, and with me standing behind it at just the right angle… it looked as though I really was wearing the thing. A spandex suit complete with gloves and boots and everything. It even had a mask, hiding me away from the world, keeping me safe from those who knew who I was…

I swallowed. "JARVIS… can you… maybe… pull up holograms of the Avengers? Full suited?"

He hesitated, then obliged. "Of course, Miss Natalie."

"You know, that joke with my name isn't funny anymore." I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look. I didn't want to see myself standing next to the other Avengers, looking pathetic. But I had to. I had to see what it would look like…

I opened my eyes and gasped. The Avengers were standing behind me, looking fairly relaxed, all suited up and ready to kick some ass. And there I was; also suited. Also ready. Also powerful.

The people in the mirror… they weren't the people I'd been spending time with. There was no Tony Stark, no Clint Barton, no Natasha Romanov. There was no Steve Rodgers, and there sure as hell was no Bruce Banner. In their place, stronger, more powerful versions of them stood.

Iron Man, Hawkeye, the Black Widow, Captain America, the Hulk. Legends and heroes. Soldiers and spies. All standing tall and strong. Deadly and powerful.

When I looked back to my own reflection, I expected to see myself as I was; a pathetic college student playing dress-up. Instead, I saw someone else. Someone entirely different.

Natalie Frost was no where to be found in that picture. There were only the heroes. The Legends. I no longer existed; I was swamped by all of the power that surrounded me. And yet, my masked counterpart stood within them, triumphant. Tall. Unyielding.

A single tear rolled out from behind the illusion's mask, and it was shattered.

"Take it down, JARVIS," I breathed. The images faded and flickered. "And not a word to anyone, understood?"

"Of course," he answered, and his tone was just a shade more sympathetic. So the Tin Man had a heart after all.

I pushed all thoughts of JARVIS aside and went to my notebook. Carefully, I tore out the sketches, then slowly ripped them in half. Then in quarters. Eighths. Sixteenths. And on, until I lost count entirely and was left with a handful of confetti. I let it trail off into the garbage, then turned to the mirror. A very human Natalie Frost stared back at me.

I took a few steps towards her, looking her in the eye. "You are not an Avenger," I whispered to her. "So get over it."

She nodded curtly, and I exited the room.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of… nothing.

I glanced to the clock. The Avengers had let me sleep in; it was ten o'clock already. I sat up, yawning and stretching out. It was a bit too quiet, to be honest, but the Tower was a big place. That wasn't so unusual.

Me sleeping in was a bit strange, though. Tony and Banner, being mad scientists- or, in one case, a scientist who avoided being mad at all costs- kept weird hours and had been known to wake up at six or sleep in until two. They usually left me alone. Steve didn't sleep much, so he'd sometimes wake me up a bit early. Natasha and Clint don't believe in sleeping after four in the morning, and they'd get me up at insane hours and scowl at me when I threw a book at them. Well, it's not like they hadn't been warned.

I pulled on a random black tank top and jeans, once again out of my pjs. I was determined to never be orchestrating a meeting in bunny pajamas again. The sleepwear had to go.

Once finished getting dressed, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and skipped to the elevator, going down. I couldn't hear anyone, but again, that wasn't so unusual. I checked their typical spots; first to the lab. Banner wasn't there. Ok. He liked to eat sometimes. And sleep in. Not unusual.

Steve wasn't by the radio, or in his usual gym. Not so uncommon.

Tony wasn't anywhere near his lab, or one of his armors. Ok. Now I was getting worried. I checked the other gyms; no sign of Clint or Natasha. No one in the TV rooms, no one in their rooms (at least, they didn't answer when I knocked) no one… anywhere.

I frowned. "JARVIS? Where is everyone?"

There was a beep. "In the Penthouse. They mentioned a meeting."

"Oh," I sighed in relief. "Hey, they listened!" I beamed. Yes, I was feeling a little left out from their super-secret meeting; but it was important that they had meetings like that. Where my prying ears could not hear. And, more importantly, where Loki's prying ears couldn't hear.

I skipped off to the kitchen, raiding the fridge like usual. Tony needed to do some shopping; there was practically nothing inside. I settled for making a PB&J and headed off to a TV room. I reverted to childhood for half and hour, watching some stupid cartoon for no real reason, wondering if the 'mindless drivel' would annoy Loki. I hoped so.

I hadn't heard from the little pain in my backside in a while now; since yesterday morning, when I had initiated the conversation. Everything he'd said was so blunt and harsh. Eesh. He needed to lighten up a little.

I leaned my head back, closing my eyes and letting the chatter of the cartoon characters drone on in my ears. The sounds erased all thought from my head, giving me time to just go vegetable…

"Miss Natalie?"

"Hmm…?" I asked.

"Mr. Stark and the other Avengers have requested to see you," JARVIS informed me coolly. I opened my eyes, watching the fan for a moment.

"Tell them I'll be up in two seconds," I answered, walking to the elevator.

"The probability of you reaching them in that amount of time-" JARVIS started, but I cut him off.

"Just do it, Robo-Nuisance."

Man. I even give the AI nicknames.

I pressed a button, and the elevator shot up towards the penthouse. It arrived a few moments later with a quiet ding! I stepped out; the whole room was dark. I frowned. Weird.

I looked around; it was absolutely silent in here. And then I heard someone whisper by my side, "Tony made us do it."

I jumped into the air; but it was even worse when someone scolded, "Rodgers!" in a hiss.

"The hell…?" I looked around. Suddenly, the lights blared into my face, throwing me off balance as I stumbled back a bit. I almost fell flat on my back, because I'm clumsy like that, but someone caught me before I hit. I flushed; sheesh, it was probably one of the spies, that wasn't going to get me in their good books…

I looked up. Steve smiled down at me, helping me back to my feet as everyone suddenly materialized, shouting, "Surprise!" Confetti rained from the ceiling, and I finally noticed the ridiculous hat that Steve was wearing. I groaned aloud as Tony popped out from behind the table, and Natasha and Clint materialized from the shadows, blank, apathetic looks on their faces despite the confetti drifting all around them.

I slapped my hand to my face. "Are you serious?" I demanded, peeking at Stark through my fingers. He grinned.

"Happy birthday, Natalie!" Was his only response.

He was serious. My eyes went wide, and I slumped. Great. Just great. This was bound to be a whole mess of awkward.

"Come on, Nat, it'll be fun." He said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Look! We even have your favorite food!" He steered me towards a table, where about six pizzas were stacked on top of each other.

"You will regret this, Stark," I growled.

"Come on, there are presents!" He gestured to a small stack of cards and boxes in the corner of the room. "No one knew what to get you though. You're hard to shop for."

"Not really," I answered. "If you bothered to ask me."

"That would've spoiled the surprise, wouldn't it?"

"I hate you so much."

He just grinned and flashed a thumbs-up to the other Avengers. "She loves it!"

The others mostly rolled their eyes. Banner shot me a sympathetic look and Steve hid a smile. The two spies looked rather bored. My eyes shot skyward, but I relaxed a bit.

"All right!" I shouted, clapping my hands together. "Let's get this party started!"

It wasn't all bad. My mom was right; I do like parties. On occasion. When they're not thrown by super-freaks. But Tony knew how to arrange a good party, even if the only guests had little to no sense of humor. Pretty soon, I was laughing it up with the Avengers, poking fun, eating cake, and rejecting every bottle of alcohol that Tony pushed my way. Scratch that; rejecting every bottle of anything that Tony pushed my way, in fear that he'd spiked it.

The spies seemed almost annoyed at first, but eventually they relaxed a little. Not enough that they would be considered party animals, but a little. Enough to laugh a bit.

Banner tried to hover in the back of the room for the whole party, but Tony and I would not have it. We got him involved quickly-though he warned us that it would not be a good idea for him to drink. Tony, of course, immediately started pushing whiskey bottles his way.

Steve got a bit involved. He drank a bit, too, but it didn't seem to actually do anything. I wondered if he could even get drunk. I wondered if anyone but Tony could; seeing as he was the only one currently doing so.

We all talked, we all laughed, we all agreed that we hated Tony Stark and decided to throw him out the window. We probably would have done so, if Stark hadn't reminded us that his armor could catch him before he hit the ground. Spoilsport.

There was cake, with twenty candles that I blew out without breaking a sweat. Tony joked that he 'always knew I was full of hot air,' and I punched him in the shoulder.

There was ice cream. There were balloons. There was even a piñata.

"What am I, five?" I asked, as the object dangled from the ceiling. But then I saw the picture of Tony's face plastered on it and grinned. "Never mind. I can handle this."

"It was supposed to be Loki," Tony pointed out, a little miffed. Clint whistled innocently.

"Just give me the baseball bat!" I cackled, scaring Tony a little. He backed away. Steve tied the blindfold around my eyes, and I felt the bat being pressed into my hands. Someone spun me around a few times, but I could see absolutely nothing. The Cap sure knew how to tie a blindfold.

"And… go!" Tony said beside me, albeit a fair distance away. I swung wildly.

The piñata didn't last long. After my turn (where I got a few great hits in and broke open a small section; not enough for candy to spill out, but still) Tony stepped up. He barely tapped it.

"It feels wrong to mangle something that beautiful," He said as he handed the bat to Steve.

"Keep telling yourself that." I answered. "You just missed."

He scowled, and Natasha tied Steve's blindfold. He whacked the thing so hard that the rope snapped, and it went flying across the room. Incredibly, the thing did not split in half, though quite a few candy pieces spilled out onto the floor. I stared at it, wild-eyed, as they hung it back up.

"What did you use to make this thing?" I asked, amazed. "Cement?"

"You're at a superhero party now, Nat," Tony winked. Could nothing be normal around these people?

Natasha and Clint refused to join in, but I pushed Natasha forwards while Tony blindfolded her, quite possibly risking life and limb as we did so. We did the same to Clint once her turn was over, with Steve keeping an eye on the door to make sure he didn't make a run for it while Natasha's turn was up.

Natasha smacked the thing hard, never missing once. We stopped her when she pulled out a knife and almost slashed the thing open, then forced Clint up next. He didn't complain as badly; any excuse to smack Tony's face, I was sure.

He whacked the piñata a few times; like Natasha, he never missed once. Damn superheroes.

Then it was Banner's turn. We all stepped back, but his physical strength didn't exactly match his green counterpart's. Still, we hoped he didn't get himself too excited or angry at the thing; luckily, he didn't. He tapped it a few times, but no where nearly as bad as the others had.

My turn came up again; I was amazed that I had another chance. The thing looked seriously beat up. But I managed to get a few smacks in. Tony hit it once-a good hit this time- and then Steve stepped up again. After that, it was over; the piñata didn't smash into the wall again, but it cracked open, spilling its candy guts all over the place. I attacked it like a regular five-year-old, while Tony stood back, watching his face bleed candy and shouting, "The horror!"

We ended up splitting the candy between anyone who wanted it, anyway. Which meant that I got most of it. What can I say? I love candy almost as much as I love coffee.

Presents came afterwards, since there didn't really seem to be any order in this mayhem we called a party, and we were just doing whatever occurred to us next. Things settled down a bit as I sat in the corner, ripping open packages with bright colored paper. Or, in Natasha's and Clint's case, cardboard boxes with no paper at all.

From Tony: A bottle of whiskey that I almost threw at him. And, much more impressively, a laptop. Rich bastard. I didn't look a gift horse in the mouth though, and I kept it right next to me for the rest of the day.

From Steve: a small set of books, all written in Spanish. The man pays attention. He also got me one in Danish, for a bit of practice.

From Bruce: a few texts on not only psychology, but Norse mythology as well. As much as it reminded me about the reality of my world, I was actually pretty grateful. Tony still hadn't gotten the books I'd asked for, and it would be good to get a bit of a start on this. And with the mythology books as a bit of a reference guide… My brain started buzzing again, and I almost ignored the party entirely until Tony cleared his throat.

Clint's and Natasha's gifts were a bit controversial. A gun and a knife, respectively. I stared at the weapons as though they'd dropped from outer space while Tony looked to the spies. "Honestly?" He asked.

Natasha shrugged. "How else is she going to defend herself?"

She had a point there. But looking at the things… I shivered a little. I glanced up to Clint, who placed a hand on my shoulder. It was, perhaps, the most affectionate gesture he'd ever used towards me.

"We'll help you learn how to use them," he assured me, then released my shoulder. I looked down at the cold metal weapons, which didn't seem to be getting any warmer in my hands. I set them down, shaking a little.

"Thanks, guys," I said, trying to mean it and finding myself actually succeeding. They were right. I needed something else. Something that I could rely on, besides my indestructible side. I couldn't become indestructible, not if Loki wanted me to.

All and all, the party balanced itself into a pretty good time. Tony eventually got dead drunk, which was actually pretty hilarious so long as we could keep him away from the armor. Which we did fairly easily. We ended up having to put him in his room and wondering aloud whose party this was, anyway. I ate enough pizza to make myself sick, and eventually we all dispersed, all of us agreeing that it wasn't as horrible as we'd thought it would be, if nothing else.

When I finally left the party, I wandered about aimlessly for a while. I stashed my presents in my room; I wanted to open my brand new laptop right now, but knowing Tony there were probably a bunch of security bits set up already, and I didn't want to risk being locked out of it forever because I didn't know whatever password he'd set. I also wanted to read the new books, do a bit of studying… but right now I was in such a 'party' mood that I just couldn't bring myself back to work.

I decided to check the mail; there was a slot by the door and a locked box for packages. I flicked through both until I found a package and a letter with my name on it. My mother had been forwarding my mail here, though I rarely got anything. But today was my birthday, after all.

The package was from my mother; I grinned and opened it. Another book. One I'd been eyeing for quite some time, one I'd discussed with her when I was at her house. I smiled and tucked it under my arm, but my smile drooped after a moment. 'Her' house. That's what I'd thought. Not 'my' house, not anymore. My one and only home right now was Stark Tower; and that wasn't even a proper home. Once I was used to the nanobots, once Loki was out of my head… once this whole thing was over, I would probably be kicked out of the Tower for good. Told to go back to my normal life. I didn't belong here, after all.

But did I even belong back in my old life? I almost couldn't stand the thought. After all this… going back to college, to living with my mother, to delivering pizzas…

Things would change, undoubtedly. I would be stronger. Faster. Better. I couldn't ever get angry; I'd end up exploding on people, with an indestructible bubble wiping out anyone within so many feet of me. I'd have to keep all of this a secret for the rest of my life; I wouldn't be able to talk about it with anyone. Not even the Avengers.

Because… even if I did keep in contact with them… we'd drop out of it eventually. The life of a superhero is a hectic one; they wouldn't have time for me. The spies would have their missions; if they ever even bothered to contact me in the first place. I doubted it. These were people I never would have talked to if it weren't for my current situation. People I never would have learned to like, people I would never have been friends with. The thought made me feel cold inside. I almost took comfort in the fact that I would probably die before this whole thing was over. Almost.

Pushing these thoughts aside, I glanced to the letter. It had my name on the front, and Stark Tower's postal address, but there was no return address. I frowned and opened it; it was a bit thicker than a normal letter, so there was obviously something else inside. I tipped it out into my hand, and something small and wooden fell into my palm.

I held it up to get a closer look at it. It was a smiley face, crudely carved into a semi-round, semi-flat piece of wood. At first, I didn't recognize it, but then my fingers ran over a familiar bump in the carving…

My eyes went wide. No. Just… no. I flipped it over, and my heart sank down to the basement of Stark Tower. My stomach turned inside out, my heart pounding. I felt like I was going to barf.

On the other side, scratched in shaky letters on the wood, was an I, a U, and a little heart in between. My mouth went dry. My throat closed. My hands started to tremble, making the little letters blur in my vision. Letters carved with seven-year-old hands, a thankless and careful task done with such small fingers… fingers that got cut once or twice, as evidenced by the little bloodstain in the upper right of the uneven circle…

I looked to the envelope quickly, digging inside. There was a single piece of paper in there, and I pulled it out so quickly that it almost ripped in half. Two lines of text in familiar handwriting stared up at me. It took me three tries before I could steady my hands enough to read it.

Happy birthday, my dear, dear Nat.

I'll see you soon.

The words blurred again. What little doubt I had was swept away by that nickname; the one that only two people in the whole world still used. Sweat started beading on my palms. I shoved the page into my pocket, and the little wood pendant, then ran to the elevator.

As I jammed my finger into the button, I had no idea what I was thinking. What I was feeling. My gut was twisting in a thousand knots, my heart speeding at a million miles per hour. I tried to keep calm, but my brain was spinning out of my control. The doors pinged open and I threw myself out of the elevator, into the hallway, and into my room. I locked the door, racing to my bed, and pulled the gun out from where I'd stashed it. I loaded it quickly, inexpertly, and held it tight.

Still shaking, I looked to the door, and aimed my weapon towards it, arms locked into place as I sat there, frozen, rigid.

No.

He couldn't be back.

Please.

It was one o'clock in the morning when I was finally brave enough to leave my room. But it wasn't exactly for the boldest of reasons.

I knocked on the door; softly at first, then a bit louder. Everyone-save Banner- was asleep; but it wasn't Banner that I needed to talk to. I knocked again. And again.

"Just a second," I heard from inside, just as I was about to knock one more time. It was followed by the sound of a number of locks being opened, then the door swung inwards. Clint stepped out, his hair a little ruffled and wearing solid black pjs, with pants that came down to his ankles and sleeves that came down to his wrists. The light in his eyes, however, was very clear despite the other signs of sleep. And he was clutching his bow in one hand. Once a spy, always a spy.

"Natalie?" He asked, frowning a little at me. "What's wrong?"

I tried to speak. To open my mouth, even. But I just stayed there, staring dumbly at him. For a long moment, we both just looked at each other, staring in the silence.

And then I held out my hand; the one that was still clutching the gun so tightly my knuckles were white. He eyed me carefully as slowly, slowly, I pried my fingers off of it, until it was simply resting in my palm. Clint's eyebrows furrowed, and he reached out to take it. He lifted it off of my hand, holding it in his own, his forehead creasing as he realized that the metal was warm.

"Teach me," I said, trying to keep the pleading from my voice. His eyes locked on mine, and I swallowed dryly. "You said you'd show me how to use it, so show me."

He seemed… confused. And calculating; he was trying to figure it out, trying to see what was going on in my brain. Finally, however, he nodded. "All right. First thing tomorrow. Ok?"

I shook my head. "Now. Please."

His eyebrow lifted. "Natalie, it's one o'clock in the morning."

"Please."

Clint watched me. I could only imagine how I looked; weak. Pathetic. And ever-so-desperate. All I could think in that moment was how I wanted to be able to fight, how I needed to be able to fight back. Having a gun wasn't enough; I had to know how to shoot it. How to hit someone.

I wondered what he thought of my sudden need to learn this. He probably attributed it to Loki; after all, Loki had been driving me crazy for a very long time now. He set his bow aside and came out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

"All right," He agreed. "Who needs sleep?"

I let out a sigh of relief as he handed the weapon back to me. "Thank you," I said, feeling a bit small. He nodded curtly.

The two of us headed to Tony's testing room; where he designed his armor, made modifications, and, naturally, tested the weapons systems. The ones that could be tested inside, of course. Clint set up a target at the other side of the room and handed me a pair of thick headphones, and some safety goggles. I put them both on, and he did the same.

The rest of the night was a blur of advice, tips, and the inner workings on my new weapon. I couldn't believe how loud that thing was, but after a while, I actually started to take some comfort in the sound. It made me feel safer. More secure.

After the first few hours, my aim started getting better. We switched around the different aspects of training to keep us both from getting bored; there was shooting, of course, but I also learned how to reload the thing in nothing flat. Dismantling, reassembling, dismantling again. Reassembling, then firing directly afterwards.

I don't know how long Clint stayed up with me, just going through the basics with a rookie. But I do know that I would never forget it. And I know that, when the two of us finally shuffled off to our respective rooms, I was able to set the gun aside, unloaded and away in my drawer, and go to sleep with no problems whatsoever, completely dreamless.

When I woke up the next morning, I still felt dead tired. I also felt guilty for keeping Clint awake with me; he'd probably gotten even less sleep than I had. But when I found him in one of the living rooms with a book, I felt a lot better; he looked fine.

He looked up at me. "Feeling better?" He asked casually. I nodded.

"Thanks," I said. Then, "And… sorry about that."

He shrugged and looked back to his book. "We've all got those days."

I smiled gently, suddenly curious as to what day in his past he was thinking of. But I let it slide.

There was a long silence. Then, Clint asked, "So what was that about, anyway?"

I shuffled on my feet for a second. "Oh, you know… dreams and crap. Loki likes to do that." It was a lie. But I couldn't tell him the truth.

His eyes grew dark. "It wasn't Loki."

"I'm sorry?"

He sighed and set his book down, leaving it open to save his page. "Your greatest fear with Loki is that he'll turn you into a monster. If this was about Loki, you wouldn't have made yourself into a better weapon that he could use. This was something entirely different."

Wow. He was good.

He sat back a bit, relaxing just a touch. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Natalie. But do us both a favor and don't lie to me." His eyes met mine. "And remember. Anything that threatens you, threatens the Avengers."

That wasn't true. The Avengers- most of them- weren't human. My father was.

"Yeah, well," I answered, shrugging. "Everyone has a past." At his very meaningful look, I added, "A person's past can be dangerous; but never more dangerous than to the person themselves. I think you know that. Maybe better than anyone."

He held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded and picked up his book. "Good answer," he admitted.

I smiled a little, warily, then turned to leave.

"And nice job," he added. "For a rookie."

I grinned and left the room.