A shorter chapter than usual, but I hope you enjoy! I also posted a new short in my One Shot series, based on a request from a guest reviewer, titled summer of '96 and corresponds with Chapter 42 from this fic.
Chapter Forty-Three
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I didn't make it a minute past Midtown's front doors before I was grabbed from behind.
"I'mgonnakillyou!" MJ said, as she dragged me into a tiny alcove between two walls of lockers. She grit out her words so only I could hear them. "YoujerkIthoughtyouweredead!"
Having walked the whole way here, I had to get up incredibly early just to make it to school on time. In fact, I was so early it wasn't even the first bell yet, thanks to finally putting on my big girl pants and taking the subway. And it meant I was here soon enough to get momentarily kidnapped by MJ.
I did my best to hide my limp — my leg still ached, but it was far better than it was three days ago. I could put weight on it without immense pain or offsetting the fracture — it had to be mostly healed by now if I could walk without feeling it move. It meant I could walk fine. But I definitely wasn't going to be running or jumping or doing any death-defying stunts for at least another week.
Leaving before Bucky got back was entirely incidental, although I couldn't necessarily complain. I still felt kind of bad, though, so I left a note. An apology, although not for the reasons I'd written down. But for going back against my promise and telling Steve where Bucky was. I'd called Steve just as I was standing outside Midtown's gates.
Okay, so I didn't actually tell Steve. I left a message on his cell phone, which still was not picking up calls. He was still on that deep-cover mission, and for how long I had no idea. Considering a month had gone by already, I was not expecting him to come back and hear those messages any time soon.
Did I feel bad for going against my promise? A little. But it was either lying to Bucky or lying to Steve, and Steve had already done so much for me. I simply trusted him more. He deserved to know. And I had meant it when I told Steve I wanted him to be the first to find Bucky. It didn't exactly turn out that way, but I was still keeping to that. No one else was going to find out about Bucky until Steve did first.
"I know, I'm sorry!" I threw up my hands, MJ looking mad enough that I was afraid she might hit me. Or the wall. Or the trash cans that were also occupying this very small space. I wrinkled my nose against the smell. "Did you really have to drag me into here —?"
"Hey, you don't get to ask questions!" MJ snapped, jabbing a finger under my nose. Kids passed our spot without a second glance, and I was already trying to resist the urge to get the hell out of Dodge. "I lied to May for you, and that's like lying to God, so I wanna know why I'm going to hell now."
A sigh left my lips. MJ had a point. I was just about to tell her when a new voice cut me off. "Mia! You're okay!"
Peter appeared, squeezing himself into our little alcove. Both MJ and I had to scooch to make room for him, putting me even closer to the trash can than I wanted to be. "So, uh, how was your weekend?"
"How was her weekend?" MJ repeated, throwing Peter a scathing look. "C'mon, Parker, don't play dumb! You and I both know something fucky is going on here." Her gaze cut to me. "So spit it out, Mia. What the hell happened? I wanna know everything."
Peter blanched at that, wide eyes flicking to me. Peter knew more than what MJ did. Over the weekend, I slowly fed him more information about what happened, when I was sure he wouldn't freak out. That I'd been hurt. That I'd been attacked. That it was definitely not anything a normal civilian should go through — or survive. And that I'd been saved. But not by who. Yet.
"I — I —" with both of them staring at me, I found myself at a loss for what to say. Peter shook his head discreetly, not wanting me to say what I was already thinking of saying. I glanced at MJ, who glared back unblinkingly, arms crossed. There was no way I could appease them both. Finally, I took a deep breath, and said, "I'll tell both of you at home. I'll tell you everything. But after school. Okay?"
"What?" both of them demanded at the same time, with two entirely different intonations. Peter, shock. MJ, annoyed. Before I could try to weasel my way out of there, MJ grabbed my arm. Her grip wasn't Spider-Man strong, or even super soldier, but the grip was tight, almost desperate. She'd never grabbed me like that before. "No, you're not going anywhere until you talk, right now!"
"Now? Here?" I hissed in disbelief, glancing around to make a point. We were in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by kids and teachers who could overhear us.
Peter, bless his soul, came to my defense. "Mia's got a point, Michelle. I-It's not safe here. It'll be better at our place. While May isn't there."
"Uh-huh," MJ cut a suspicious look between the two of us, chewing the inside of her mouth as she thought. Finally, MJ seemed either convinced or gave up, letting me go with a toss of her hands. "Fine! I can wait. But don't think I don't see you pulling a fast one on me, Fletcher. I know you have your appointment today, too. After that, you're telling me everything, and you won't get out of it then!"
With that, she took off in a huff. I watched her go, regret twisting in my gut. I didn't want MJ to be mad at me, but I knew it was deserved. Hopefully I could make her understand later today. When I turned back, I jumped slightly at the look Peter was giving me. "What?"
He seemed deeply apprehensive. "Are you sure you want to tell her everything? I mean, everything?"
"Y-yeah," I said, although the tremble in my voice gave me away. Either MJ understood, or it freaked her out, made all this worse. I was afraid of scaring her off. Or, hell, making her hate me. I had no idea how this would turn out, but I knew I couldn't pretend this never happened, either. "I promised her. I know you don't like her but… she's my best friend."
"I'm your best friend, too," Peter said, his expression a cross between hurt and worry. "And I don't know if its a good idea."
"You're my best friend and I told you everything, didn't I?" I pointed out, and Peter frowned. "I don't know how she'll react. But I know she won't tell anyone."
"What about Ned?"
I paused, my heart skipping a beat. Shit. I didn't think about Ned. Now it was my turn to frown at Peter. "Do you think I should tell him, too?"
"I dunno," Peter shrugged. "But I think it'd be kinda unfair if he's the only one left out between us. Ned cares about you, too. And we can trust him. I know we can. He won't tell anyone, either."
There wasn't a lot I could argue with that. Peter was right; Ned had proved himself trustworthy, he hadn't told anyone about Captain America, even though it might've earned him some major popularity here. And I remembered the story he told me at the Silver Spoon. "You should tell him about Spider-Man, too. Ned's starting to notice, you know."
"I know," Peter deflated, head bowing and shoulders drooping. He leaned against the wall. "I'm just… I'm not ready yet. But I'll try to figure something out."
"Yeah," I muttered, leaning against the wall next to him. It wasn't a great situation, but it was nice to share this mutual dilemma of ours. I wasn't going to harangue Peter if he decided not to tell Ned — I believed Peter said he will, one day. Right now, it was going to be my day, for better or worse. Ned and Michelle didn't need to know Peter's secrets to know mine.
Our moment of silence didn't get a chance to linger before it was interrupted.
"What the heck are you morons standing in there for?" Mr. Strickland demanded, making us jump, surprised not to be alone. The hallway was almost entirely empty now, and the school vice principal stood in front of us, glaring to some degree of bafflement. Mr. Strickland scowled, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "Scram!"
Peter and I took one look at each other and hauled ass.
~o~
"You've been awfully quiet, Amelia," Dr. Siwa said, cocking his head as he peered at me with his dark eyes. "This is our first meeting in a while since you've been this silent. Is something wrong?"
"Oh," I muttered, tapping my fingers together, glancing at the clock self-consciously. I didn't realize fifteen minutes had passed already. "Sorry. I don't mean to be."
"What's on your mind?"
I screwed up my lips to one side glancing about the room as I tried to figure out how to word my current issues — without getting too specific. Dr. Siwa's office remained unchanged since I first saw it, and it was a strange kind of comfort I couldn't describe. Studying the Egyptian weapon, bronze gleaming in the light, he had on display, I started to speak.
"I kind of sort of made a promise to my friend that I'd tell her everything about me," the words came out in a rush. I paused, took a breath, gauged Dr. Siwa's expression — also unchanged, entirely neutral — before continuing. "Like, you know, the, uh, the super soldier stuff. Rebel Columbia and what really happened to me in those missing two years."
"Oh?" Dr. Siwa's only reaction was the slightest quirk of his eyebrow. His hands folded over his notepad. "I'm assuming this is a friend you know and trust deeply."
"Yes, she's been my friend since I got back," I said. "Before then, even. And she pulled a solid for me last weekend and I owe it to her. But I'm scared, you know, she's already mad that I'm waiting this long, and when I leave here, it's going to be to go and tell her what's what. So… yeah."
"Hm," Dr. Siwa said, his foot tapping as he thought that over. "I can't dictate which decision is the right one, to tell her or not. Just ask yourself, Amelia, why you're telling her this very sensitive information. Is it because you feel like you are indebted to her and have to pay back with information you do not feel ready to share? Or is it because you really do trust her, and sharing this information is an act of friendship, meant to bring you two closer?"
"I guess," That was a lot of words for me to parse. I didn't want to sound stupid and ask Dr. Siwa to repeat himself. "I'm hoping it's the last one. And it's not just her, but another friend, too. So all my closest friends know."
"Well, take it into consideration, then, so you don't find yourself regretting it later when you realized maybe you weren't as ready as you thought," Dr. Siwa said. "They'll have their own reactions, too, and they're not at fault for feeling however they may feel, and neither are you, for how you might react to it. But you should be prepared that this might change the dynamic of your friendship. And I'm saying this, knowing what you are and what you've been through, that your friends might not have the life experience to fully grasp the truth of your identity. So, perhaps, don't be too angry with them, if they struggle to understand."
"And what do I do if they don't?"
Dr. Siwa just held out his hands. "I'm afraid there isn't much you can do. You can't control their feelings. You may just have to accept their reaction, even if they don't accept you, and hope they come around in the future. But don't force them to understand, if they're already resisting. It will only push them away further."
I nodded, but it only sent me into another spell of silence as I took all that in. I was aware that there was a chance this could go horribly wrong. A very small, hopeful part of me was saying of course they'll accept you. But as the hour of reckoning drew near, the more I started to fret, started to doubt. Maybe I had too much faith in MJ and Ned. Maybe I expected too much of them. Would it be fair, to just dump all of my bullshit onto them and expect them to be okay with it?
Dr. Siwa, perhaps sensing my inner turmoil, calmly added, "It's okay to be scared, Amelia. This… coming out, so to speak, is not an uncommon experience, even if your particular truth is unique to you. And don't feel obliged to tell them everything all at once. Or ever, if it suits you. Just enough that you are comfortable with. You'd be surprised how little people need to know to appreciate what you've been through."
I wasn't sure if that made me feel better, but it was a good reminder to psych myself down. I didn't have to tell them everything. Just enough for them to understand. Not everything I endured, but an idea of it. And I didn't want to scare MJ or Ned, but I knew what I thought was scary and what they thought was scary were probably on either end of the spectrum.
And then there was the other matter…
"There's something else," I added, at length, earning a piqued expression from Dr. Siwa. I swallowed; this subject was going to need a lot more dancing around to get across. I trusted Dr. Siwa a lot more than I did at the start, but that didn't mean I was going to tell him about what happened to me over the weekend, or anything specific about Bucky. For multiple reasons, not the least of which wanting Steve to find out first. "Recently, I, er, kind of reconnected with a distant family member. But, uh, the last time we met — our whole relationship, really — kind of sucked. I hated him, and maybe was a little scared of him, until… well, now."
A little scared of him. As if the Winter Soldier wasn't the one thing I was most terrified of, short of actually being in protocol. It's fine.
"What happened?"
"Well," I grimaced, deciding to avoid the topic of my broken leg. Dr. Siwa hadn't commented on my limp, if he saw it, and I wasn't about to point it out now. The ache was greater now, after a day of walking on it, and I couldn't wait to go home and take a nap. "He helped me. He didn't have to. He probably already knew how I felt about him. I think he was trying to keep away specifically because of how I felt, and only got involved because…"
Because I almost died. Because he was the only thing between me and those STRIKE agents.
"Because?" Dr. Siwa prompted, when I had drifted for too long.
I shook my head, refocused. "Because no one else would. I wouldn't say I needed him but… I guess I did. I would've been worse off if he hadn't. And after that, he kept helping me. Didn't complain. Didn't — didn't hurt me, like I thought he would. I was still scared of him, but by the end of it… I don't know. I kind of feel bad now, that I left without saying good-bye."
"You think he's changed?" Dr. Siwa asked. "You think he's trying to be better now?"
I made a face. "Well, I was kind of asking you."
"I see," Dr. Siwa scribbled something down on his notepad. No idea what. But he continued to say, "Well, based on what you've told me, I can make a guess and say he's trying to improve himself. Perhaps trying to mend things with you, maybe testing the waters to see if it's still possible. It sounds like he still cares about you. But I can't say for sure, I don't know him and I don't know your past relationship. The real question is, do you want to mend things with him?"
"I don't know," I replied with a shrug. My eyes cast about the floor. "At first, I totally didn't. I wanted to get away as soon as the whole thing was done and never look back. And he still scares me. But not as much as he used to. He's… different now. Almost completely different."
"In what ways is he the same?"
That was harder to describe. In my head flashed images of Bucky's metal arm, his silent footsteps, the way he stood so unmoving, like an iceberg. "He still doesn't say very much. It makes it hard to talk to him, and I'm not sure he'd tell me the truth if I asked what he was thinking or what he felt. He's a private person. Not that I blame him. He's had a hard life, too."
Dr. Siwa blinked, nonplussed by this. "But that doesn't justify how he's treated you in the past."
"No," I said, biting my lip, still working over the nuance of it. Bucky hadn't been in control of himself then. No more than I had, under protocol. And still, there were moments when kindness had shown through. Kindness that had to be more than just a coincidence in protocol. "But there was a lot I didn't know at the time, either. It doesn't excuse it, I know, but… the context changes a lot."
"What do you mean by context?" Dr. Siwa asked, and maybe he saw the way I tensed, when his brows furrowed.
The silence stretched, a normal indicator that that was not a question I was willing or able to answer that, and he relented with, "It's alright. Family is always a complex, messy knot and it's never easy to explain even when you want to."
"Yeah." I only gave a tiny smile at that. It was, in fact, the first time I ever broached the subject of what happened to me in captivity, of the Winter Soldier, of Bucky at all. In a very roundabout way, sure, and I doubted Dr. Siwa knew that, but still. "I think he'll leave me alone. Unless something else happens."
"Do you intend to contact him again if something doesn't?" Dr. Siwa asked, with a curious tilt of his head.
"I don't know," I said at last, glancing over my shoulder, out the window behind me. At the blue-grey sky over the tops of skyscrapers, beams of sunlight streaking out from behind clouds. "I haven't decided yet."
