Happy Monday! Well, in the lovely state of Virginia it's Monday. I'm not sure about the rest of the world. Either way, here is a happy Monday update of some reality but also some hope in this family situation. Enjoy!

The peachy public life, though, was not an exact mirror of their home life. On busy Saturday's Anya was often shifted through the team. First was always Natasha, but she couldn't teach deadly attack methods with a five year old attempting to climb their rock wall without a harness in the background. Promising she'd see her at lunch, she sent her to Steve. Weapons class, though, was also no place for a five year old who screamed every time something deadly was present and attempted to climb into her uncle's lap. He didn't mind the attention, tried to provide comfort, but it was a class for a reason. Wanda, Vision, War Machine, Falcon, and other SHIELD agents were the students of the classes, meaning the last reliable person young Anya was sent to was Pepper Potts. This meant that, by default, she was going to Tony.

Tony was not a reliable babysitter, especially since most of his Saturdays were spent in his lab. Miniature explosions, sharp objects, and hazardous materials were not supposed to be near little ones. Pepper always did her best to control her boyfriend's mess and keep an eye on the child, but paperwork and a mad scientist boyfriend were both distractions that meant Anya was only being watched 50% of the time. If Tony had been an actual adult he would have covered the other 50% and there would be no problem, but he concentrated on his science experiments and hot brilliant girlfriend for 45% of that time, meaning his niece went unsupervised 55% of the time, which was too high of a percentage in a Stark lab.

Ironically she was then handed over to JARVIS, as if an automated intelligence system could care for a child better than two adults. It worked though. JARVIS could tell her to stop running on the slick kitchen tile, could invent games, could speak Russian, could help with homework, etc. He spoke to her kindly, did everything like an actual human except be tangible. At first she rebelled against this system, often returning to Natasha in tears. Eventually, though, she understood the necessity of her cooperation. JARVIS gave her more freedom than any real adult, even permitting her to play on the roof in the bright sunshine and sweet wind, which she enjoyed. He could prepare food faster than anyone else. He produced new toys and photographs of her parents upon request.

The last request was done often. Almost every Saturday she called up a new picture. She touched their faces, would lay on the floor with them projected over her if she had trouble napping. Sometimes JARVIS positioned them to be sitting next to her on the floor, mimicked what might have been their voice based on Anya's descriptions, so that they could play with her. He didn't report this activity to anyone, but Anya often brought it up at bedtime.

"I played with Mama and Papa today."

"Did you?" Natasha would smile, ask what they had played, kiss her on the forehead and go to her own bed, before questioning JARVIS. "Do you think that's wise, bringing her dead parents back?"

"She misses them Ms. Romanov."

"Of course she misses them. But I doubt it will help her heal if she can just recall them into her life."

"Would you like me to contact a child psychologist for you then?"

She often considered doctors, counseling, therapy. Anya had, at the age of four, survived a war-like experience, lost her parents, moved across the ocean, and been adopted into a new lifestyle. So far her progress had been positive, making friends and learning English and establishing uncles and aunts. Her biggest setback was nightmares, which Natasha thought stemmed from the weekly 'visit' with her parents. The next three or four days following the 'visit' Anya would wake screaming for Mama and Papa, thrashing in her bed to escape fires and gas and bombs, sometimes even running to escape the ballerinas that Natasha knew were from the Red Room. Apparently the village girls had been attending 'day classes' there before being sent back to their parents. The sight of tall, skinny, pretty girls with haunting eyes and secret scars terrorized Anya even a year later. The only comfort was to be held in her new mother's arms, whom she referenced as Mama Nat, and to be sung to. Music calmed her down, soothed her back to sleep along quiet melodies. Such peaceful songs would never feature the ballerinas she had encountered for the past two years.

Eventually Nat ordered the 'visits' to stop, originally causing havoc as Anya wanted her parents with her as much as possible, but soon there was obvious good. Her nightmares decreased. She appeared more present in her current situation than caught up by her past memories. Her affection was more genuine. She began noticing small details as only a child could. She gave Natasha hope.

Thanks for reading! Please drop a review if you have the time. God bless. :)