Carrie meets her sister. Heads up, this chapter will be bringing up some details of Carrie's hellish childhood.

Disclaimer: I do not own Carrie White, Rachel Lang, Loki (MCU), the Avengers (MCU), or any other MCU characters.

Chapter 5

Rachel was a serious, solemn child. Only ten years old, her feet barely reaching the carpeted floor from where she sat by Carrie's bed.

The older girl took her new sister in. She could see some similarities – at least she thought so – in the face. Especially the eyes, they both had the shape and color of their father's eyes.

There were differences though – Rachel's hair was black and curly in contrast to Carrie's wavy blonde. Her features were sharp in comparison to the older teen's softer and rounder features. The young girl was skinny and while Carrie had shed some weight during her month with SHIELD, she still couldn't be called slender.

More importantly, Rachel didn't have that air of defeat and invisible scars that Carrie held, instead being very self-assured and quietly determined. It was a relief not to see any especially dark secrets hidden in those solemn eyes, or echoes of old hurts in how she sat.

They hadn't spoken past soft (Carrie) and curt (Rachel) helloes. The silence wasn't unkind, but it was awkward.

Carrie finally decided to make a move and tentatively nudged Rachel's mind – if speaking out loud was too much, maybe this would be better.

Rachel responded immediately, looking up at her as she opened up her own mind. The sisters avoided going too deep into each other's private selves and skimmed the surface to get a sense of one another. Carrie especially, held onto caution tightly as she was only self-taught and didn't want to hurt Rachel by accident.

Her younger sister was a strong-willed person, "tough as nails" as Tony and Agent Barton would put it. There was nervousness though, and a sense of loneliness with cautious hope. Isolation in abundance.

Carrie pulled away when Rachel began to come upon her childhood memories. She would very much rather die than let the girl see those. That said, Rachel had gotten a glimpse but thankfully it wasn't anything too brutal. Just Mama smacking her across the face a lot.

"Did she hurt you a lot?" Rachel asked.

Carrie didn't know how much Professor Xavier or the other adults looking after the girl let her see of the news on Chamberlain. Probably not a lot, if Rachel really meant what she was asking – the reporters had gone into detail about Carrie's home and school life. Many people commented that on paper it read like a psychological horror novel.

It was still very strange, to see people she never met being horrified and angry on her behalf.

"Yes." She didn't want to lie to her sister. "Mama was very sick."

"You're trying to make excuses for her." Rachel said bluntly. "My mom is sick too, but she never hurt me. She scared me sometimes but never on purpose, and never hit me."

"Is she getting better?" Carrie wanted to avoid her mother now. She knew what her mama had done wasn't right and she couldn't honestly say she missed the woman. That said, Margaret White was genuinely mentally unwell. Carrie couldn't help but feel it was somewhat unfair to completely hate her. There was a tangled mess of love and hate and resentment for everything. Margaret had taken so much from her – and yet been the only person in Carrie's life that wouldn't leave her. Perhaps kill her one day, but never leave.

That truth was twisted, she knew, and why Carrie hadn't shared it with Dr. Kurt yet. She might never.

"Yes." Rachel said, sensing the chaos in her older sister's head. "I visit her sometimes, she's always happy to see me."

Carrie's mother would likely throw a fit at her appearance and slap her silly if they met again. The teenager was cleaner and wore clothes that actually fit her and looked nice, if a bit old fashion, to other people.

"That's good."

It was quiet again, but the silence was more of a shy one this time.

"Do you like games?" Rachel asked. "I know you probably didn't play much but have you tried any since the Prom?"

"I like tic-tac-toe. I can play Uno too." Carrie said. "I usually watch documentaries and the history channels while I sew to catch up on what I missed."

"Sew?" The dark-haired girl asked.

"I sew most of my clothes." The blonde said. "I made my prom dress."

What followed was many questions on how Carrie made her clothes. Rachel's expression opened, became inquisitive and bright. The ice was officially broken.

Carrie answered as best she could – her mother had taught her how to sew, not just clothes, but also injuries since she didn't trust hospitals.

It was a blessing too, for the times Margaret sliced open her skin with a knife and Carrie had to stitch it up herself. The first few attempts left some rough scars that made her SHIELD doctors press their lips together when she apologized but practice makes perfect and Carrie improved. The most recent cuts had healed much better.

She left that part out. It would only upset Rachel and ruin the very nice conversation they were having.

At some point, Hank arrived, carrying a tray of food with him. Rachel pushed herself off her chair to help the older mutant with the door.

"Thank you, Rachel." Hank said, smiling as he set the tray down on a table by the door. "I hope the two of you are getting along."

"She sews her own clothes." Rachel said seriously. Her eyes were still solemn but there was a lightness to it now.

"Oh, is that so?" He patted her head and looked to Carrie. "That's an impressive skill. Not many teenagers know how to do that nowadays."

"It's calming." Carrie said. "I always feel better afterwards."

Hank's appearance meant that Rachel needed to leave and get her own dinner. She looked unsure for a moment before walking over to the bed and taking Carrie's hand in her own.

"I'll be back tomorrow." She promised.

"Please." Carrie smiled. "Come whenever you want."

It was silent for a few minutes after the younger girl left as Hank set up the tray for Carrie to have her dinner in bed. She observed him closely, there was something on his mind.

Sure enough, he spoke up as he laid the tray onto the fold out table.

"The Avengers have been notified about your arrival. They should be here tomorrow."

Carrie frowned. She had lost the Tesseract – they might not be very happy with her right now. The teen told the older mutant so.

"I doubt that the Tesseract is what they are most concerned about." Hank commented. "They may very well not relish needing to track it down again, but you are alive and safe. I'm sure that is what will matter most to them."

She bit her lip. There was a surety in her that there would be no beatings or closet time for losing the Tesseract from SHIELD or the Avengers. That had been one of the very first things Coulson had insistently drilled into her after the First Incident when she took orders to stay in her room too literally. Two of the Avengers were SHIELD agents, Tony was Tony, Bruce was Bruce, and Thor seemed too honorable to ever resort to such measures.

Wait. Coulson.

In everything that had happened from her capture, to the battle, and then separation, he slipped to the wayside in her thoughts. There was a coldness to her realization though, that Carrie couldn't explain.

Hank was still in the room – there was a rotating schedule, someone was always either in the room with her or outside the door. Carrie was confused at first, until Jean explained that with Loki still at large, no one wanted to risk him snatching her again. The unnamed man in the X-Jet, who Carrie learned was Logan, or "Wolverine", had been outside the door while she and Rachel talked. He was gone now since it was Hank's turn.

"Hank. Do you know what happened to a SHIELD agent named Phil Coulson? He looked after me when I got to SHIELD."

He had settled into the chair, ready to read a newspaper, and paused.

"I don't know." Hank admitted. "I can ask the Professor for you in the morning. Mr. Stark gave him a quick summary of the events leading up to your capture and the aftermath. The file might include what happened to your caretaker."

"Thank you." Carrie turned her attention to her meal, unable to ignore the queasy uneasiness in her tummy. There was just so much dread at the thought of Phil, like something bad had happened. She tried not to think about it.

It was all she could think about.

Hope you all enjoyed this!

Sincerely,

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