CHAPTER TWO- June 2025
Sam peaked out the window to see the long line of black cars in the drive of Avengers Headquarters. The view from Natasha's room offered a good spot to watch people arrive while a black dress was laid out for her. There came Peter Parker then the Barton family, Steve and Sharon Rogers, and Maria Hill. Happy Hogan greeted each arrival, signaling in the direction of the memorial.
"Come, Sam," Nat interrupted, "go ahead and put this on." She checked a box by the door, adding, "have you seen your shoes?"
"They hurt my feet," Sam complained automatically.
"I know, but you only have to wear them for a little while." Nat sat at the corner of the bed and reached to stroke the girl's hair. "We should brush your hair before we go down."
The young Stark had her father's dark features, and her plethora of hair tangled easily. Natasha was worried she would hurt Sam by pulling so hard, but the girl seemed unfazed.
"Nat?"
"Yes, Sam?"
"Is Uncle Thor gonna be here? He's funny," she asked, smiling.
Nat sighed. Sam was excited to see all the family friends, unable to grasp what this occasion was. "I'm not sure, doll, but we won't be playing today, okay?" She put down the brush, spotting the shoes Sam had tried to hide stuffed beneath the side table. Nat dreaded how long this day would be.
There was a knock at the door, and through the crack Dr. Banner's voice gently rolled in. "It's about time, ladies."
Silently, Sam was rushed down huge windowed halls, everything suspended by gleaming metal and bright concrete. There was no casket in the room, just rows and rows of chairs. As she looked around, Sam seemed to just miss the gaze of everyone there, and when she found her father, his eyes were down, covered by sunglasses. Immediately to Tony's right, Uncle Peter stood, and once he noticed little Sam, Pete swooped in to pick her up. She flashed a giant smile which he returned effortlessly. Natasha kept her face stoney and shrank ever so slightly as Bruce put his hand on her shoulder. It was a sea of black swirling under white concrete, and even though Sam was propped up by this lanky man, no one met her eyes. Every cough sounded like thunder, echoing off all the glass.
Sam, feeling tired, bored, and hungry, started searching for strawberry blond amongst the crowd. As she always did when she couldn't find her mother, She reached for her father's glasses and said, "Daddy, I'm hungry."
Before her hand closed around one corner of wireframe, Tony had swatted her away with a strangled "please." The skin-to-skin contact made an audible slapping noise, leaving Tony more agitated than ever. He ordered Happy to take her outside, and while Peter made a very small protest, Sam was pulled from him and led out a side door. There was nothing there but more glass, metal, and concrete.
"Wait right here," Happy ordered, flustered, moving quickly up and down the hall, searching for chairs. "Stay there," he sounded down the hall, disappearing around a corner.
Sam leaned her forehead against the window. It was overcast outside but bright, so she squinted, pressing her wrinkled nose against the glass. She fogged it with her breath several times before she heard Happy coming back.
He was slightly out of breath when he said, "all the chairs are in there, sweetheart. How hungry are you?"
"I'm tired," Sam replied.
"You just told your dad—never mind," Happy trailed off, looking about. Children were not his forte. "Tell you what, Sam," he began, lowering his hands to his knees, "you stay right out here, sleep on the floor if you want, and be as quiet as you can, and after I get to say…a few words…" He stood straight up again, looking back at the double doors before continuing. "Then we will all go get some food. Does that sound okay?" He nodded his head before Sam even opened her mouth.
"I'll be safe right here?" Sam mumbled.
Happy paused, a notable change in his expression, eyes not quite focused on her anymore. He sniffed, nodded once more, and turned around. "Right there," he half-sobbed then opened the door just enough to squeeze through.
Muffled speech in low tones wafted down the hall. It was soothing, like Dad reading quickly through a bedtime story while adding more side comments than the book was long. Sam sank into a seated position then put her hand down to scoot towards the window. She felt sand beneath her palm. She looked, realized it was dust, fine and pale as the concrete, and looked for more. Its texture was soft against the polished floor, leaving a defined trail when seen from low to the ground.
Ten feet away were larger grains and then just at the corner of the hall were pebbles scattered with the dust. Sam stood slowly, sure to stay quiet as asked, and followed the dusty path. She was disappointed the rocks became no bigger three halls later. The trail ended in front of yet another glass door, this one covered in fine dust nearly three feet high, finger smears around an invisible edge and just at eye-level a blue pinpoint light parallel with the thick pane. The dust reflected the blue on its right side, but when Sam shifted her head, she couldn't see any light. Curious, she pressed the sliding side so she could look more closely, but she quickly saw yet another light just inside the door. This one was red and flashing with letters above: D-O-O-R-U-N-S-E-C-U-R-E-D.
Sam looked around. Up on the counter by the nearest table sat a half full glass of the deep green drink her father always served to people. She was never allowed to have any. Since no one was around, Sam stretched to reach the glass.
It was still cold. The condensation made the fine glass slippery, and it crashed to the floor below her small hands. She knew someone would be mad she'd made such a mess, so Sam frantically looked around for something to clean it up. There were closed containers of bigger rocks under the next table labeled S-A-M-P-L-E-D. She recognized her name, then above them Sam saw a cloth cover over a few more bins. After ripping it to the floor and stomping down to soak up the green, huge saturated spots appeared where she stepped. Fascinated by the shapes and color, Sam dropped to her hands and knees to watch her prints appear. Sometimes when she slapped a dry spot, she could hear the squelch of the wet. The last time she hit the floor, she cut her hand. Pink dripped down to the faint green splotching, and as she slipped trying to get up using only one hand, she sliced her knee on more glass.
Suddenly she was really afraid. The floor was mostly dry, albeit covered in faint smears, but someone was bound to see things were not where they belonged. Perhaps if she put the sheet back, they wouldn't be as mad.
Sam tossed the cover back over the rock-filled bins. She looked down at the remaining glass on the floor. There seemed to be only heavy things on the counter, nothing small enough to push the shards, so she started pushing them with her feet. Her shoes were already hurting, so when she was done, she yanked off to tuck against the cabinet lip, hoping to hide the glass.
She could hear footsteps now. To hide, Sam ran back to the last table, farthest from the door, and wiggled into a thick jumble of cables draped from ceiling to floor.
"I'm not troubling Tony with this. The upgrades were already postponed because of the holding site. Really?" Bruce moaned, standing at the faulty lock. "Undone by dust…" He continued to tap at the screen flashing red letters while speaking to the security officer who accompanied him. "How much longer do you think the memorial will go? I've got to get back to testing—"
Sam could hear her breathing. She anxiously covered her mouth, pushing a few cords out of her way.
"Whose shoe made that?" Bruce said suddenly.
She shimmied her way farther into the cables, hearing tiny pops when she pulled a foot forward. Some connections became unhooked. Several instruments on the tables made different beeping sounds.
"What the hell?" Bruce turned to check while calling to the guard, "Is that blood?!"
The dust on her hands tickled her nose, and no matter how hard she tried to hold it in, the sneeze shot through Sam's sinuses. A clump of plugs came loose behind her head with the force. Lights went out and the minimal glow of security lights made Bruce's shadow look larger than life.
"STOP," came the guttural scream from across the lab, but when Sam tried to push her was out, something sparked above her.
"Code Green," the security guard bellowed into his comms, "Main Lab now!"
She tumbled against one of the metal corners of a table, scraping her head on the way down. She hit the floor hard as Banner's form shifted. The shadow got larger. Sam could smell smoke. More sparks flew, momentarily lighting the hulking figure easily tossing tables aside. The fire-suppression system triggered, making it impossible to hear anything else. Sam started to sob.
Hulk's face lowered towards hers, his back flush with the spraying ceiling, beams above them creaking and bending.
"It's my fault," Sam screamed as loud as she could, "I'm sorry!"
Figures ran up to the glass; the door had automatically sealed with the fire trigger.
"Banner, back off! Hulk get away from her," came the collective muffled thumping of watchers, helpless behind the barrier, then the terrible, piercing explosion of shattering glass.
Hulk didn't move. He simply leered, watching her cry, an expression more akin to annoyance plastered across his broad face. Captain Barnes' shield collided squarely with the massive jaw. Bucky's huge vibranium arm promptly followed, connecting with Hulk's orbital bone. Sam watched the impact ripple across his green skin in the strobe of lights, confusion in the wide, pained eyes. She was sure she heard the snap of a bone, but whose?
The two tumbled to the other corner of the lab, dragging tables and equipment into a pile beneath them. Bucky slammed his full weight over and over again into the now shrinking figure.
"Stop, he's my friend," Sam shrieked, throwing herself a few feet closer to them. She could hear a growing chorus calling her name directly behind her.
Bucky lifted his head, flicking the long hair back, dripping from sprinklers, fist raised high in the air.
"You're a monster!" Sam's vision swung wildly even though she had stopped stumbling forward. "It was my fault," she whimpered, falling forward, blood trickling down her face and neck. Everything went dark.