Disclaimer: I do not own the world of MCU or its Characters.
Sophia stared down at the box in front of her. It was still closed, as it had been when Fury had handed it to her an hour or so ago. She knew she wouldn't accomplish anything by letting it sit there but she couldn't bring herself to open it, scared of what she would learn.
The last couple of days had been a whirlwind of emotion and stress. After capturing Loki and fitting him in specialized chains complete with a muzzle, they had sent him off with SHIELD Agents to the New York facility until Dr. Selvig and Banner could stabilize the tesseract enough for it to handle a trip back to Asgard. That meant the team (God, she was part of a team and not just any team but the Avengers!) was dragged off by Tony to the shawarma place he had spotted during the battle. It had been so surreal, sitting there between Steve and Thor, picking at her lamb (one more new thing) meat wrapped in a pita in the aftermath of this alien battle, the owners cleaning up as if it were a normal evening.
It had all hit Sophia very hard in that moment. To think, just a few days ago, she had never been outside and then, very suddenly, she was finding out her parentage, jumping from buildings, nearly dying (multiple times) . . . losing the only person she probably considered something like a father. She pushed her food away, placed her head in her arms and cried. To her credit, it wasn't the hysterical sobbing she had expected it to be, but a dam broke and she just cried, shoulders shaking, tears dripping onto the table. None of the team said anything, which she was grateful for. Thor placed his hand on her back while Steve placed his hand in her hair but they allowed her to be a 'first-timer'. When she finished, Natasha handed her some napkins across the table before going back to her food and they all carried on as if nothing had happened.
Yesterday, they had Coulson's funeral, along with the many other Agents who had lost their lives. Sophia had cried again, Steve had held her hand, and they watched as Coulson's coffin was lowered into the ground. The rest of the team had been there as well and they all stood to the back as not to cause any kind of disturbance. Apparently, many people were happy with them, a lot more weren't. A lot of destruction had happened, no matter their attempts to contain it. At the end of the funeral, Thor had asked to speak with Sophia, alone and the two of them walked away from the others.
"I want to apologize for any distress that Loki might have caused you while were . . . in his care," Thor started, staring down at her.
"I don't suppose I'd call it distress," Sophia told him, frowning. "More – enlightening."
Thor smiled. "You sound like your father."
Though it wasn't confirmed (Sophia had been avoiding Fury like the plaque), it was the only logical explanation. Like a great detective once said, 'when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'. . . . Sophia had always known she wasn't a mutant and there was nothing else to explain her abilities. Meeting Thor and Loki had just pulled the pieces together. "I would have liked to know him."
"He would have liked to know you as well, my Lady. But I believe there is one way we can remedy that. You could accompany me," he explained, at Sophia's confused expression, "back to Asgard."
"Wait – wait, what?" Sophia squawked, drawing the eyes on onlookers. She cleared her throat. "You want me to – up . . . out there!? Is – that even allowed? I'm part human."
"And part Asgardian. It is true that you will never know your father, but to understand where he came from, where you come from, is to become one step closer, isn't it? We may also be able to find someone to assist you in training your abilities. It does not have to be forever," Thor added, sensing Sophia's fear and hesitation. "If you become uncomfortable, we could always return you to Midgard."
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow, morning. Take today to think about it?"
That same evening, with that conversation in mind, still dressed in her wrinkled black clothing, Sophia found herself going to Fury's office. Maria Hill saw her coming and didn't stop her; she simply turned her back and muttered something into her comms and Sophia entered the room.
"Director?" she started, letting the door close behind her.
The man held up a finger to her before pressing a few buttons on his desk. Two of the screens closest to her blared to life and Sophia turned to watch them, frowning at Fury's need for dramatics.
She had avoided watching any TV, already having enough bad dreams on her own without the News reminding her that she had been there. But there she was, on one of the screens, fighting off chituari with one of their own staffs. The fight had been filmed on a phone camera (she could tell from the shaky quality) and geez did she look a mess; jeans and shirt ripped, her hair loose and wild, blood on her forehead and knees. . . . She didn't look much like a hero, but, she had to admit, as she watched herself dig the staff in the ground and use it as a pole vault, she looked a bit badass. The next screen had a woman in it, speaking into a microphone, holding a kid in her arms.
"We got separated in the mess," the woman was saying, tears in her eyes. "I tried to go back but we were being forced off the streets. It felt like ages before a Policeman was bringing my boy down to the subway, calling out my name."
"The girl with the purple hair saved me!" the little boy said and Sophia smiled when she realized it was Chad. "She didn't have any armor but she dove under the buildings and she had this glowing blue shield and she moved the rocks with her mind! She was fighting with Captain America! I saw her!"
"Did this girl have a name?" the reporter asked, moving the mic to Chad.
"Captain America called her Sophia!"
"Whoever she was," Chad's mother said, as a freeze frame shot of Sophia appeared in the corner, "all I can say is thank you. Thank you for saving my little boy."
The screens turned off and Sophia turned to face Fury who was watching her. "You made quite an impression."
"Is this the part where you ground me?" Sophia asked, unable to hold her tongue.
The Director frowned and turned his back on her, folding his hand behind him. "This is the part – where I admit I was wrong."
"Come again?"
He sent her a half-hearted glare and Sophia berated herself for not recording it the first time. Fury reached below his desk, pulling out a medium sized blue box. There was a tab on it that read 'Lena Tilden', but on the front of the box, there was another sticker with her name 'Sophia Doe' written in bold letters. Sophia felt her heart clench in throat when she met Fury's eyes. "You were right, in a way. Not a prisoner, but I couldn't risk you out there not knowing what you were."
"When you figured out I wasn't a mutant, did you try anything else?" Sophia asked, her throat thick with tears she was fighting not to shed.
"No because at the time, nothing else existed that would explain your existence. So, we kept you hidden and, yes, we lied to you, because you were a kid and you accepted what was told to you."
"Now that I'm adult?"
"You've still got a lot to learn. . . . But you handled yourself well out there. You kept people safe, watched your teams' backs. You knew your limits and you . . . impressed me." He slid the box across the table to her but she didn't move to pick it up. She could feel herself shaking, she was so pissed. It took her nearly dying for the Director to be honest with her and that was just unacceptable. "You'll find everything about your mother, about her time with us, in that folder as well as some old notes on you and things we've complied since the discovery of Thor."
"Thor invited me to Asgard," she blurted out. "I'm leaving with him tomorrow."
Fury stared at her before slowly nodding his head. "I won't stop you."
"You wouldn't be able to."
"You're angry. I get that. But you have to understand that all we did was truly for your protection."
Sophia had heard that line enough times that she found herself focusing on breathing deeply, controlling her fury so as not to lash out with her magic. Very carefully, she picked up the box, holding it close to her chest as she spun on her heel, walking away from the Director. She stopped at the door, ready to leave without saying a word but she should behave herself with better decorum than that. It's what Coulson would have wanted. So she spoke to the door. "I appreciate SHIELD for caring for me."
"When will you be back?"
"That is a very good question."
She had left after that and now, still in her wrinkled dress but with leggings underneath so she could hike it up to her thighs, she stared at the box, nervous to open it.
A knock on her door startled her and Sophia called out for the visitor to come in. Steve pushed open the door, eyeing her state as he moved to sit next to her. "Thought I'd come see if you wanted to get dinner."
Sophia shook her head, eyes not leaving the box. Steve followed her gaze. "Who's Lena Tilden?"
"My mom," she whispered, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Have you opened it yet?"
Again, Sophia shook her head. "My whole life, I've wondered who I was, where I came from – and Fury's had the answers this entire time."
She was grateful that Steve seemed to know better than to try to make up some excuse for SHIELD or Fury. She knew he was still angry that they had been trying to use the tesseract to make weapons, that the government had tried to blow up New York. On their way to the funeral earlier, Steve had confided in her that he was going to take some time away from SHIELD, figure out this new life he had found himself in. It made sense; he had a lot of things to get used to now.
"One more puzzle piece then," Steve said. Reaching forward, he lifted the lid, just a bit, watching her. "You'll never know unless you dive in."
Taking a deep breath, Sophia nodded and Steve took the lid all the way off. There wasn't much in the box; just a yellowing folder, a journal with yellow pages, a tape recorder, and a gold circlet bracelet with an opal gemstone in the middle. Steve took out the folder and gently opening it. "Lena Tilden. Place of Birth: Sacramento, California. Born: April 19th, 1964. Died: September 12th, 1989. Current Employment: Librarian. That explains a lot," Steve added with a smile. He pulled a faded picture from the creases of the file, examining it before handing it to Sophia. "You two look a lot alike."
Delicately, Sophia took the photo. A pretty woman with a soft smile gazed up at her with soft brown eyes. Her hair was shorter than Sophia's, stopping just at her chin but she could see the slight resemblance. Setting the picture down, Sophia reached back into the box and pulled out the journal. It creaked under her fingertips so she pried open the pages gently, flipping through until something caught her eye.
November 15th, 1988,
I met the strangest man today at work. He said his name was Trond, which is a name you don't hear around here. Very Nordic, very old. He's as obsessed with books as I am, it would seem. There's this insatiable thirst for knowledge in his eyes, in the way he talks. He had an old way of speaking as well, called me 'Lady'. It was refreshing.
I think he likes me.
November 27th, 1988,
Trond came back again. I was shocked to find that I missed him, even though our previous conversation wasn't long. He spoke of far off places and told me he wished he could show me every single one, that he would take me away and make me a goddess if he could. You don't meet guys like this on earth. I'm starting to think it would make a lot more sense if he weren't of earth. It would explain a bit.
I should be scared but I'm not. Trond is gentle and kind and wise. Handsome, as well. He treats me like I already am a goddess. Like I'm something much more unique than a librarian.
December 16th, 1988,
Trond says this is the last time he'll be able to visit me for a while. Something is happening back where he is from, a war. He must go and serve his king.
I will miss him.
Sophia continued to flip gently through the journal, trying to catch information she need while trying to not to feel like she was intruding. They hadn't known each other long, Lena and Trond but they feel in love fast, drawn together by a mutual love of knowledge, words, and books. There wasn't much after the December 16th entry though Lena made mention of strange men in suits watching her and strange things happening to her.
I knocked over a bookcase today. I didn't even touch it!
Next to her, Steve pressed play on the tape recorder, causing Sophia to look up. The sound was garbled, probably do to dying batteries or the years but after a minute of two, they could clearly hear rustling paper.
"Your cooperation would make this a lot easier, Ms. Tilden," came a deep voice, male, older. Sophia felt herself deflate a little; it wouldn't have made much sense considering his ranking at the time, but she had been hoping to hear Coulson's voice.
"Let's see," a woman started, her voice slightly raspy, with a tinge of annoyance. "Your 'people', shoved me a car on my way home from work, have kept me locked up here for three days with no word or explanation. I'm afraid my 'cooperation' is probably the last thing you're going to get."
Sophia chuckled. "Sassy."
"We need you to explain to us the . . . things you've been able to do," the man explained, his voice accompanied by more rustling paper. "Moving objects with your mind, force fields. . . . You blew a hole in the wall of your apartment."
"The baby kicked," Lena offered.
The tape became even more garbled after that and Steve turned it off, casting Sophia an apologetic glance as he set it back in the box. She shrugged, not able to help the small smile on her face. "She was stubborn."
"Sounds familiar."
Sophia flipped to the last page of the journal, closing it quickly when she saw what was written. When she looked up, Steve was watching her cautiously. "It's – it's a note from my mom. To me."
"Aren't you going to read it?"
She stared down at the book before hesitantly handing it to Steve. He waited for a moment before carefully opening it to the last page, clearing his throat.
"Dear Sophia. I hope they name you Sophia. I hope they tell you what it means too. Sophia means wise and, if you're anything like your father, you'll be just that. The doctors here tell me that there may be complications with your birth, which should be any day now. I told them that if anything were to happen, they were to save you at all cost. I even made that man, Nicholas Fury, swear they find you a good home, somewhere where you'll grow up loved and safe, with a good education.
"I wish I could explain more to you. I wish I could tell you more about your father but the truth is, I'm not even sure myself and I'm afraid to divulge more to SHIELD than what they already think they know. But the truth is, your father came into my live like a hurricane and disappeared just as quickly. He was brilliant and inquisitive and I loved him. My hope is if I'm not with you, that, someday, he will come back and the two of you will find each other. Until then, be a good girl. Grow strong, grow smart, keep learning. If all that reaches you is this letter, than know that I loved you from the moment I knew of you and will never stop. Love, mom."
By the time Steve finished, Sophia was crying again, for what felt like the umpteenth time, her head pressed against her knees. Steve placed his hand on the back of her head, his fingers tangling slightly in her hair, and Sophia calmed down enough to realize that Steve had been there through the toughest parts of her life (which, yes, was just limited to this last four or so days). As much as she hadn't gotten everything her mother had wished for her, she had grown up strong and smart, continuously learning, and she felt loved. That mattered. Leaning over, she wrapped her arms around Steve's waist. He let out a little 'oomph' of surprise, but laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
"Thank you," Sophia whispered.
"Anytime." They sat quietly for a moment before Steve chuckled again. "You know, Thor asked my permission to take you to Asgard."
Sophia frowned slightly, sitting up. Part of her was relieved that he already knew, that she didn't have to awkwardly explain herself. The other part of her was a bit annoyed. "Why?"
"He figured he should ask someone. Said something about it being appropriate to ask family."
Sophia stared at Steve for a second, feeling another smile come to her face. They didn't know each other very well at all and yet, she knew Steve had her back and, if he needed it, she had his. Maybe they were family, in a way now, after everything. "What did you say?"
"That you were a grown woman who could make her own decisions."
"Damn straight."
"Are you going to go?"
The half-Asgardian stared down at her hands for a moment before meeting Steve's gaze, her smile widening. Steve matched her smile, reaching over to ruffle her hair.
"Guess I should pack."
A/N: Thanks everyone! Sophia's story is far from over. I thought about continuing to make this a crossover but I'll probably leave it in the Avengers fandom. Thanks again for reading.
