TW for swearing, ableism, mentions of violence/injury/fighting and also Hunter being bullheaded :/

Bobbi woke up before her alarm the next morning, her stomach churning with nerves and guilt. She wasn't sure what part of her day she was dreading the most. The meeting with the school principal, which would surely end in all of them being punished, ranked near the top of her list, for sure. The inevitable confrontations with Ward and Raina would be uncomfortable at best and dangerous at worst. And of course there was the horrible fact that she would have to face her friends for the first time since the truth came out. She had no idea how Mack and Clint would react - if they would react more like Natasha had, or Hunter. Something tightened in her chest at the thought of Hunter, like an invisible hand was squeezing over her heart. The sight of his stricken face flashed in her mind's eye, and another wave of guilt crashed around her. He was never going to forgive her.

Of all the ways Bobbi had imagined Hunter finding out the truth, last night's debacle had never crossed her mind. She had never considered the possibility that the truth would be ripped so forcefully from her hands and put on display for someone else without her permission. She had worried about people finding out before she was ready to tell them, of course, but nearly every scenario she had envisioned had involved a slipup of her own creation; a slow and subtle leaking of the truth, like air from a punctured tire, until suddenly everything was just out in the open and nothing was bottled up anymore. She should have known the tire was more likely to blow than to leak. That was how everything else in her life had been, so why would this have been any different?

Everyone seemed tense at breakfast, like they could tell Bobbi was nervous and they didn't want to upset her further. Or maybe they were all still freaked out by everything she had told them last night. No, Bobbi corrected herself. That was insecurity talking. Everyone here was nice and no one started treating her any different after her many admissions. Jemma knew to get her batons, Skye agreed to go to therapy with her. There was no pity or disgust in May's eyes or fretfulness or anger in Phil's. She was safe here.

"So, you'll probably be called down to the office after homeroom," Phil explained as he rinsed out the cereal bowls in the sink and shooed Skye and Jemma off to gather up their backpacks and sneakers. "Principal Mace may want to meet with all of you together, or he might meet everybody separately, I'm not sure. But I'll be there. Technically I'm there as the reporting teacher and a neutral party, but off the record, I'm there to be a friendly face," he smiled. "It shouldn't be too bad, but if you need to take a break, you can send me a little signal and I'll figure something out, okay?"

"Okay," Bobbi agreed. She felt her face arrange itself into a much more stoic expression than she really felt. It was like her body was on autopilot to lock down all the feelings that were bubbling up inside of her, but that was okay with her. She'd been too emotional recently, anyways. It was time to tamp those things down, shutter away the things that threatened her façade of control. Control meant she could convince other people that things were fine. Control was how she'd gotten through so many years of nosy teachers and prying eyes. Control was how she stayed safe.

Fortunately, it appeared as though Phil could tell she wasn't interested in talking any further about what the morning held, and he didn't press the matter as they finished getting ready for school and piled into the car.

She didn't run into Hunter, Clint, or Natasha before homeroom, but that didn't surprise her. What did surprise her was the broad smile on Mack's face when she slid onto the stool next to him in homeroom.

"Hey," he greeted her warmly. There was no trace of anything she had been expecting to see on his face. Disappointment, betrayal, frustration – all were absent.

"Um, hi," she said weakly.

"You look like you're feeling better than last night," Mack observed. Bobbi shrugged, but found herself nodding somewhat, too. She was still a bundle of nerves, but she would have been hard-pressed to feel as bad as she had last night.

"Did…" Bobbi swallowed hard, choking down the anxiety that was clogging up her throat. She tried again. "Did Natasha tell you—"

"Yeah," Mack nodded. "I mean, she didn't go into a lot of details, but Clint and I got the gist. I'm really sorry all that crap happened to you. I'm glad you're staying with someone as nice as Mr. C, though."

"Me too," Bobbi murmured. "Are you… are you mad that I lied? Because I'm really sorry about that."

"It's all good," Mack assured her. "I'm not mad, and neither is Clint. Honestly, I can understand why you would want to keep some of that stuff private, especially with people you just met. And I'm glad you feel like you can trust us with it now." Trust. Trust.

"Is Hunter still mad at me?"

Mack hesitated before saying anything. His expression clouded over a little, and Bobbi felt her heartrate pick up speed.

"I tried to talk to him last night, but he wouldn't answer my texts or pick up when I called him. So if I had to guess, I'd say yeah, he's probably still pissed. But I don't think it's just about you, if that helps at all. All the Ward stuff—"

"That was my fault, too," Bobbi admitted, shame bubbling up in her chest. "So he's probably doubly mad about that."

"Look, I know I wasn't there for the start of the fight, so I don't know what sparked it, but I can tell you for a fact that Ward and Hunter going at each other was definitely not your fault. They've been at each other's throats since freshman year."

Bobbi didn't know what to say to that, but luckily was spared from having to respond by the crackling arrival of the announcements over the intercom. After the Pledge of Allegiance, the day's lunch menu, and a reminder about signups for the debate team, the disembodied voice finished with the words that Bobbi had been dreading.

"Finally, will Lance Hunter, Christian Ward, Barbara Morse—" the voice droned, calling out the names of everyone who had been involved in last night's incident. "—Carl Creel, and Alphonso Mackenzie all please report to the office immediately following homeroom. Thank you; and have a great Outlaw day."

Bobbi and Mack rose in unison and, after receiving a nod from Mrs. Diaz to be dismissed, headed out of the classroom and down the long walk to the office.

"I meant to ask," Bobbi said, remembering suddenly, "what happened with Elena? Is she okay?"

Mack's mouth turned down and his eyebrows scrunched together to make a very unhappy face.

"The trainer was already with her by the time me and Joey got to her," he said solemnly. "The trainer wasn't sure exactly what was wrong, but she knew it was bad. She told us to get Elena to a doctor right away, so Joey said he'd take her, since he'd come in his dad's car. Coach called her parents to clear it with them, and I guess they left work early to meet Joey at the ER. I didn't go with them, but Joey texted me updates."

Something cold and clammy clenched in the pit of Bobbi's stomach. If Mack had to get his updates from Joey and not Elena directly, that wasn't a good sign.

"She got tackled the wrong way by that Fuller girl on Roncalli, you know, and… and she broke her ankle. Then when she went down, she fell the wrong way, and tore her Achilles', too."

"Oh, god."

"I guess she'd injured her Achilles' a while ago – strained it, maybe – but she kept playing through it, so it was already susceptible to tears. And when Fuller took her down hard—"

Bobbi winced, imagining the excruciating pain Elena must have felt. "Was it a full rupture, or…?"

"Just a partial tear, I think," Mack said. "So that's good news at least. She's getting surgery on it today. Joey said she's probably going to be on crutches and rehabbing and all that for four to six months, though."

"Are you serious?" Bobbi knew an Achilles' injury wasn't a speedy recovery, but she hadn't been expecting six months. "Poor Elena. That's playoffs and the whole offseason. It's got to be killing her."

"I don't really know if she knows it yet," Mack said sadly. "She's been awake of course, but between the pain and the medicine and everything, I don't think it's really sunk in yet. She's going to be crushed, though."

"She's strong," Bobbi said, trying to inject as much force and optimism into her tone as she could. "And she has the whole offseason to get back to where she needs to be. I bet she can be back on the field by next season if she wants to be."

"Wasn't it you who told me that kind of optimism was wishful thinking?" Mack needled, a sad smile on his face. Bobbi had never seen him so morose before. Something about Mack, who was usually such a rock of positivity, slipping down into the doldrums like that sparked a flicker of defiance somewhere in Bobbi's chest.

"Only if there's not anything to actually be optimistic about," she reminded him. "Elena getting better isn't a pipe dream, Mack. She can do it. I know she can."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm up and walking around, aren't I?" Bobbi stopped and gave Mack a pointed look that froze him in his tracks. "Mack, my dad basically shattered my kneecap with a baseball bat two months ago. I was worried I'd never walk again, but I don't even need crutches anymore. Besides, Elena's way tougher than me. If I can get better, so can she."

"You're both pretty tough, if you ask me," Mack smiled. "But you're right. I shouldn't give up on her before she's even gotten out of surgery. If she wants to play again, we've got to be there to cheer her on."

They had arrived outside of the front office, and Mack gestured grandly for Bobbi to go in first.

"After you," he said. "Let's go see how much trouble we're all in."

The office was about what Bobbi had expected to see – prune-ish secretary behind the front desk, filing cabinets along the walls, and a haphazard collection of chairs, several of which were occupied by the sullen faces of Natasha, Clint, and Ward's three friends, who were huddled together in one corner. Bobbi noticed with a slight bubble of pride that Rumlow's nose was purple and swollen, a souvenir from its run-in with Natasha's fist last night.

Mack nodded at Clint and Natasha as he and Bobbi sat down next to them.

"What's happening?" he asked quietly.

"Hunter and Ward are inside with Mace," Clint informed him. Bobbi spied something chunky and purple behind his ear. It looked as though he hadn't been able to fix his hearing aid last night, and Bobbi wondered if the purple one he was sporting now was an old one he had in reserve. It certainly wasn't as sleek or as nice-looking as his previous one had been, although it did at least seem to be working well enough that Natasha didn't need to interpret for him.

"Mr. Coulson's in there, too," added Natasha. "Plus Coach Garrett. I guess he got wind of what happened and he demanded to be there to 'advocate' for Ward."

"I'm all for advocates," Mack grumbled, "but I'm guessing Christian Ward is pretty good at advocating for himself."

"The whole thing is just an excuse for him to make sure his star player doesn't have to sit out this week's game," said Natasha drily. "It has nothing to do with taking care of any student's wellbeing."

"And of course Hunter doesn't get to have his coach in there holding his hand," Clint griped. "At least Mr. C's in there to try and keep things fair."

"Did you see Hunter?" Bobbi asked gingerly. "Before he went in or anything?"

"Just for a minute." Natasha's mouth was a tight, straight line, and her eyes were downcast. Apologetic face. "We tried to talk to him, but he didn't say anything to us."

Bobbi's heart sank. It wasn't like she hadn't expected that, but there had been a part of her that had dared to hope that Hunter might have come around after a good night's sleep. That hope had been frivolous, it seemed.

"Try not to worry about it too much," Natasha said gently. "It's not your fault, Bobbi." Fault. Fault.

Bobbi gave an empty chuckle at that. As much as Natasha and Mack kept saying that, it didn't change the fact that Hunter was upset because of her lies, and Ward had used her to goad him into the fight.

"For real," Clint nodded. "No one blames you for not wanting to spill your guts to us on your first day here. Hunter just gets bent out of shape when people don't match up with the expectations he has of them in his head, and he's got way too much pride to let anything go. He refused to talk to me for like three days when he found out I'd been letting him win at FIFA out of pity for his poor video game skills."

"Don't tell me your inability to miss a shot also extends to virtual sports too…" Bobbi smirked in spite of herself and the situation.

"Perfect aim is my game, and I always win," Clint grinned. To illustrate his point, Clint swiped a paperclip off of the secretary's desk while she had her back turned, pinched it between his thumb and forefinger with his left hand, and flicked it with his right, launching it straight at Carl Creel's head. The paperclip smacked him right in between the eyes, which immediately narrowed into a glare.

Mack snorted, trying hard not to laugh, and Natasha chomped down hard on her lip to hide her amusement.

"You're such a showoff," she told Clint, swatting lightly at his arm. "Don't antagonize them."

"We're literally sitting in the office for fighting, what could he possibly do to me now?" Clint countered with a cheeky grin. They were all tittering now, trying to stifle their laughter so as not to raise the ire of the secretary, who was watching them dubiously. It felt good to share a moment of levity with her friends, even if the moment was fleeting.

The sound of the principal's door opening sobered them quickly, and the furrowed face of a middle-aged white man with curly brown hair poked out from behind the door.

"Mrs. Clayton, are all the – oh, yes, I see they're all… okay then, well… It's going to be a little cramped, I suppose, but if you'll all join us in my office, please."

They all rose in near unison and filed uncomfortably into the office behind the man, who Bobbi assumed was Mr. Mace, the principal.

He had been right about the office being cramped once they were all inside. The cluster of chairs in front of Mr. Mace's desk were already filled by Phil, Hunter, and Christian Ward, and a stocky man with thinning hair and a look of unadulterated irritation on his face hulked in the corner of the room. Something about the unnerving blend of disaffected disdain and loosely contained anger in his eyes made Bobbi's mind immediately flash to her father, and she felt her breath catch momentarily somewhere near her clavicle. Natasha, who was beside her, must have heard the sharp intake of breath, because she turned her head slowly – casually, so as not to draw the attention of the others – to lay eyes on Bobbi. Natasha's eyebrows twitched up so subtly Bobbi probably wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been watching her expression intently, and asked a silent question. Are you okay?

Bobbi swallowed hard and nodded. She was fine. They were all crammed into a tight, crowded office, and she wished people would stop bumping into her accidentally, but there was nothing really wrong. The man skulking in the corner, Coach Garrett most likely, gave her an uneasy feeling, but there was no way he could do anything bad in here. Besides, she had never actually met this man before, so there was technically no reason for her to fear or distrust him.

"Come on, squeeze in, squeeze in," Mr. Mace cajoled, ushering everyone in. "I'm sorry the accommodations are lacking. The conference room is being used by the Band Parents' Association to house all of the uniforms that still need cleaning before Friday's game, so it's a mess of suspenders and hat plumes in there." Bobbi shuffled around towards one side of Mr. Mace's desk to make room for Ward's friends, who were still trying to fit into the office. From here, she could easily see not only the look on Coach Garrett's face, but on Phil's, Hunter's, and Ward's as well. She scanned her eyes from Phil, who gave her a reassuring smile, to Christian, who she was pleased to see was sporting a bruise across his jaw that was the most delicate shade of lilac she'd ever seen in a bruise. Then she got a look at Hunter, and the sight forced her to suck in a breath.

Hunter was glaring at Mr. Mace's desktop, stoutly refusing to acknowledge anyone who had just walked into the room. The cut over his eye had scabbed over, but it was swollen and angry looking, still pink around the edges. His eye itself was surrounded by a bruise that was such a dark shade of blue it looked almost grey in the fluorescent lighting of the office. His lip was still fat and sported a scab of its own, and Bobbi could see evidence of scrapes and cuts along the backs of his knuckles, which were gripping tightly at the arms of his chair. Seeing Hunter sitting there, body and ego bruised, there was no question about who had come out of the fight worse off.

"Okay," Mr. Mace said, once he had inched past everyone and taken his seat behind the desk. "Okay. Well. Now that we're all here."

"At long last," growled Coach Garrett from his corner. Bobbi wasn't positive, but she was pretty sure he was being sarcastic.

"Mr. Coulson reported last night's altercation to me this morning. He listed you all as involved parties, but seeing as how Mr. Coulson only arrived for the end of the incident, we're all a little shaky on the details. Mr. Ward has his own account, but Mr. Hunter has been less than forthcoming, so I'd like to hear from the rest of you what exactly transpired last night," Mr. Mace explained.

"Which is a waste of time," Coach Garrett grumbled. "You've got the story from Ward. The scrawny one didn't deny it, case closed. No need to punish anyone except the one who started the fight."

"You can't seriously look at Mr. Hunter's condition and think that he's the only one who warrants disciplinary action, John," Phil said seriously. The sternness that had surprised Bobbi last night was back, but at least this time it was directed at Coach Garrett instead of at the rest of them. She noticed the tips of Hunter's ears growing pink and the muscles in his shoulders tensed as Phil drew attention to the fact that Hunter had taken a beating. Still, though, he didn't remove his gaze from Mr. Mace's desk, nor did he act as though he knew anyone else was there.

"All I see when I look at him is somebody who tried to pick a fight and lost," Coach Garrett snapped back. "I don't see why Ward should be punished for defending himself."

"Hunter was the one who was defending himself," Bobbi said hotly, before she had fully processed what she was doing. She felt her face grow warm as Coach Garrett turned his scornful eyes on her, but she forced herself to keep going. She had to try and fix some of the things she had broken last night. "Christian and his friends were ganging up on him, and it was about to be four on one. Hunter didn't have a choice."

"He still took the first swing, though, didn't he?" Coach Garrett sneered. When Bobbi tried to splutter a retort, the coach just chuckled unkindly at her. "Don't plan on a career as a lawyer, girly. You just got your client locked up."

Bobbi could practically feel Natasha seething beside her, and she watched as Natasha's hand closed into a white-knuckled fist. Clint, who was on Natasha's other side, nonchalantly slid his own hand down and wrapped it around hers, lowering her fist back down to her side and coaxing her fingers to unclench.

"Like I already told you, Mr. Mace," Christian Ward said sanctimoniously, "we went to go confront Hunter about the recent vandalism done to our team uniforms—"

"Another thing to add to the rap sheet," interjected Coach Garrett.

"There's no evidence to suggest that Mr. Hunter had anything to do with the laundry mix-up," Phil said quickly.

"—And when we asked him about it, he just flew off the handle and started attacking us," Ward finished. "We had to defend ourselves from him. He was unhinged." Unhinged. Unhinged. He hadn't been the only one.

"That's such a lie," Mack scoffed.

"Enlighten us with the truth, then, Mr. Mackenzie," Mr. Mace urged. Bobbi could tell by his tone that he was losing his patience.

"Well I…" Mack faltered. "I wasn't there, exactly, but I know—"

"They're all just going to try and cover for him," Coach Garrett said flippantly with a wave of his hand. "You can't believe a word from any of them."

"John, we're educators," Phil said, his voice steely. "We have a responsibility to listen to our students. We owe them a chance to speak and give us their side of the story."

"What sides?" Coach Garrett asked angrily. "There's no sides to the facts. Facts which tell us that this one," he jerked a thumb in Hunter's direction, "attacked my players unprovoked."

"He was provoked," Bobbi insisted. She stared at the back of Hunter's head. Why wasn't he defending himself? Why wasn't he saying anything? "I was right there. Christian goaded him and threatened him. Hunter was trying to protect—" the words lodged in her throat momentarily. "Us. He was trying to protect us and Skye and Jemma and Fitz from all of them." She turned her gaze on Creel and Rumlow and Kebo, who were skulking in the back, smirking every time Coach Garrett spoke up on Ward's behalf.

Mr. Mace held up a hand. "I'm sorry, wait, who are those other three? Skye and—? Are they students?"

"Middle school students who were with Mr. Hunter and Miss Morse at the time," Phil clarified.

"Miss, uh, Morse, is it? Could you expand on the kinds of threats Mr. Ward made? Because that changes things somewhat."

Bobbi felt her face flush. Everyone was staring at her now, except for Hunter, who remained stock still and stared only at the desk. She took a deep breath. "Ward was angry about the jerseys, and he kept saying he was going to make Hunter pay, going to hurt him. He said 'that can be arranged' when Hunter talked about… rolling over in his grave."

"How would you even know?" Ward hissed venomously, glaring red hot pokers at her. "You were too busy having a freaky little mental breakdown to know what was going on. I heard you muttering those words over and over to yourself." Bobbi's mouth went dry.

"Shut up," Natasha spat. "Just shut up about things you don't know anything about, you asinine dirtbag of a—"

"That is enough," Mr. Mace said firmly. Enough. Enough. Enough. He looked around from face to face, studying them each in turn, like he was waiting for anyone to dispute what had been said. No one spoke a word. "I think I've heard all I need to hear, between Mr. Coulson's report and what you all have shared in the office here. Mr. Hunter, you'll be facing a three-day suspension for starting a fight on school grounds. Mr. Ward, you will also face a three-day suspension for partaking in that fight, and for threatening another student with violence. The rest of you will serve a week of after-school detention for your participation in the fight. I'll be calling all of your parents. Or guardians," he bumbled, after a minute, once he had realized Bobbi was included in that group. "I'm also launching an investigation into these reported pranks between the two teams. Good natured rivalry is one thing, but vandalism and threats of violence are another entirely. This back and forth between all of you officially stops now, am I clear?"

He waited for everyone to nod in agreement. "Good. Check in with Vice Principal Burrows before you go back to class to get your detention slips, please, and Mr. Hunter and Mr. Ward, you may go collect your things and wait here for your parents to escort you home." He sat back in his chair with an air of finality, and slowly everyone realized that there was nothing left to do but leave the cramped office.

"You've gone soft, Phil," Bobbi heard Coach Garrett leer in hushed tones to Phil as they filed out. "I played for your dad. I know he raised you to be tougher than this pansy act you're putting on. He'd be awfully disappointed in you, don't you think?"

"There's only one person here who my father would be disappointed in right now, John," Phil said sharply. "And I'm confident enough in my father's legacy to say that it's not me."

Coach Garrett didn't seem to have a response to that, and instead he stalked away, Ward and his friends trailing behind him.

"Phil, I'm…" Bobbi croaked, searching his face for signs of sadness or anger. All she could see was stiffness and stony eyes. She didn't know what kind of a face that was supposed to be. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Phil asked, genuine curiosity softening his features. His shoulders relaxed somewhat and the air around him suddenly felt warmer.

"For… for what Coach Garrett said. He shouldn't have talked about your dad like that. And I'm sorry for getting detention and getting into a fight. I know you don't need that kind of trouble."

"You don't need to apologize for that, Bobbi," he reassured her. "I mean, getting in fights and getting detention isn't great, of course, but I know the fight wasn't your fault. And detention isn't the end of the world. You'll just go while Skye is at tutoring instead of hanging out in my classroom. It's not going to keep you from going to college or anything like that." He paused and gave her a broad smile, one that filled her muscles with calm. "And for what it's worth, it would take a lot more than a couple cutting words from John Garrett to ruin my memories of my father for me. He might have played under my father for a few years, but I lived with the guy for four times that length, so there's no question about who knew him better."

Bobbi had to smile a little at that. Something about Phil's soft confidence and his steady presence just made it so easy to believe that things weren't as bad as they seemed.

"You better go get your detention slip," Phil said then. "I'll see you in history, okay?"

"Okay," Bobbi nodded, before turning and heading to catch up with her friends, who were on their way to see the vice principal.

Mack spotted her coming their way, and he signaled to Clint and Natasha to wait while she closed the distance between them.

"Everything good with Mr. C?" he asked.

"Everything's good," Bobbi told him.

"Everything good with you?" Clint followed up. "Ward said some pretty shitty things to you back there." A lump gathered in Bobbi's throat at the memory of Ward in the office and his callous observation of the very thing she worked so hard to mask. She opened her mouth to speak, but realized she didn't have the faintest idea of what to say. She couldn't pretend like Ward had been wrong – she had been a headcase last night, and she had been saying things out loud that she should have kept inside of her brain.

"I'm going to kill him," Natasha growled. It took Bobbi a second to realize that Natasha was speaking Russian, and that she had understood it. It was probably for the best that Natasha's threat hadn't been made in English – the last thing any of them needed was a teacher overhearing her and suspending Natasha for wanting to kill Ward. Bobbi wondered briefly if that was precisely why Natasha had opted to utter the threat in Russian. "No good piece of…" The last phrase was something Bobbi didn't recognize.

"Prudovaya sliz'?" she asked, trying to match the sounds of the words that Natasha had just mumbled. "I don't think we've gotten to that one yet."

Mack and Clint gaped at her.

"I didn't know you knew Russian, too," Clint said, impressed.

Mack overlapped with "You sounded just like her."

"It's…" Natasha, back to English, pursed her lips, thinking of the translation. "Like that scaly green stuff that grows on top of water. Lakes and aquariums and stuff."

"Like pond scum?" Clint suggested. "Assuming we're still talking about Ward, of course. Because Ward definitely gives me pond scum vibes. Slimy, unappealing, bad for the environment… I could go on."

"I'm still stuck on the fact that Bobbi knows Russian," Mack said, shaking his head.

"Just a little," shrugged Bobbi. "Natasha's been teaching me."

"She's a fast learner," Natasha glowed. "She picked up the intonations and stuff really quickly. It's like she can echo me." Bobbi felt her cheeks flush, but she didn't deny it. That was one benefit of constantly fighting the urge to repeat people's words back at them – it came naturally to intone other languages back like an auditory mirror, so long as she was paying attention.

"Do you echo things a lot?" Mack asked curiously. "I mean, I know last night was a different thing, but with that and learning other languages and stuff…"

"I don't mean to," Bobbi blushed. "It just slips out sometimes."

"Hey, it's no big deal," smiled Mack. "It definitely doesn't bother me. It's kind of cool, honestly. You're like a mockingbird or something. Just, you know, with people sounds instead of bird sounds." Bobbi smiled in spite of herself. She kind of liked the sound of that.

"Ward doesn't know what he's talking about, as usual," Clint added. "He's an idiot. Don't let him get under your skin." Easier said than done, Bobbi thought, but she kept that notion to herself. Still, as much as Ward's words were stirring up anxious knots in her stomach, the shining faces of her three friends – friends who were still standing beside her, who were still smiling and joking around with her after everything she had done – were stronger than anything Ward could ever say.

They emerged from the vice principal's office with detention slips in hand a few minutes later, and before they could go their separate ways, Bobbi spied Hunter slouching down the hall, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his posture hunched and hostile. She hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should say anything or not, and she caught Natasha looking from her to Hunter and back again. Her expression was dark and tight – a serious face.

"Hey, Hunter!"

Hunter froze and instinctively looked around for the voice who had called to him. When he realized just exactly who was speaking, though, he scowled and turned away, continuing his trek back to the office without acknowledging them.

"Come on," Natasha muttered, jerking her chin towards Hunter. "We can catch him. Hey, Hunter," she said again, once they had closed the distance between them. "We want to talk to you."

"The feeling's not mutual," he snipped, glaring at the ground rather than looking anyone in the face. "Bugger off, all right? I've got to go wait for my mum so I can enjoy suspension."

"We just want to check on you, man," Mack said softly. "Last night was…"

"Don't talk to me about last night," Hunter snapped. "I had things under control before… before…"

"Before you got jumped four to one?" Natasha asked icily. "Or before Bobbi sent the kids to go get help? Or before you got your face smeared into the pavement by a guy who's a head taller than you?"

"Before you lot all stuck your noses in everything!" Hunter erupted. "Before she came and…" His face was red and his movements were jerky and agitated. "Things were fine until you came around, you know?" he said suddenly, finally looking Bobbi in the face. As soon as he did, Bobbi immediately wished he would go back to ignoring her. His eyebrows were pulled down into an angry diagonal, and his mouth was twisted in disdain. Worst of all were his eyes, which were heavy and aching with hurt. Hurt that Bobbi had caused. She felt sick.

"Hunter, I'm—"

"Just save it," Hunter said flatly. "Save it for somebody who cares. You didn't want to waste the truth on me, so don't feel obligated to waste your sorrys on me either."

"What is your problem?" Natasha demanded. "So what if she wasn't ready to tell the world every detail of her life? She doesn't owe you that."

"No, obviously not, seeing as how we clearly weren't as close as I thought. Silly me for thinking that friends told each other the truth. Instead I had to find out from bloody Raina of all people that you're in foster care and that your dad's in jail for attacking people at a hospital."

"I don't even know where to start with that," Clint shook his head. "There are so many levels of wrong to pick through."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Hunter asked with narrowed eyes. "You all know something I don't? You're here to tell me that Raina made the whole thing up and Bobbi hasn't been lying to us for two months?"

"No," Bobbi murmured. "That part's true. I should have told you. I tried to tell you, but… it just never came out right. But not everything Raina said was true, either."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you about that now, am I?"

"I'm asking you to," Bobbi said quietly. "I'm trying to tell you the truth, Hunter. The whole truth."

"I can't do this," he muttered. He shook his head like he was trying to clear cobwebs from his brain and backed away slowly from them all. "I can't be around someone who's going to lie to me, or people who are going to take her side."

"You're not even going to give Bobbi a chance to explain herself?" Natasha challenged, overlapping Mack, who insisted that "this isn't about sides."

"I know what I need to know," Hunter said, his tone curt.

"So you're choosing Raina over Bobbi, then, is what I'm hearing," Natasha shot back. "You're choosing to listen to someone who we all know is as untrustworthy as they come, instead of someone you called a friend. You want to talk about picking sides, well congratulations, Hunter, you just planted your flag with the wrong one."

"I have to go," Hunter turned away from them all then, and the sight of his tensed back sent a searing shot through Bobbi's heart. "My mum's here to pick me up. Suspension awaits. Enjoy detention, I'm sure you'll all appreciate the quality time together this week." And with that, he stormed away, out the front door of the school, never once looking back.

"He's being an ass," Natasha scowled.

"His feelings are hurt," Mack offered gingerly.

"Doesn't mean he's not still being an ass."

"I know," Mack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not disagreeing with you. I'm just trying to work through the why."

"I don't think he's ever going to talk to me again." Bobbi was trying hard to keep the fractured sound out of her voice, even though she could feel it climbing up from her ribs into her throat. "I can't believe I messed things up so badly."

"You can't blame yourself," Clint urged. "This isn't your fault." Fault. Fault.

"It's Raina's, for opening her big mouth, and Hunter's for believing her over you," Natasha nodded.

"Maybe, but it wouldn't be an issue if I would have just told him. Told all of you." Bobbi felt the muscles in her hands tense, aching for something to twirl. "And even now he still doesn't actually know the full truth. Raina found out about my dad's arrest, but she got the details wrong. He was arrested for more than just what he did in the hospital. I don't think she knows what he did to me. Plus, he's not even in jail right now. My social worker told me weeks ago that he made bail, so I guess he's at home or something."

"Well, look, if you want to try and break through that thick skull of Hunter's to tell him the truth, go right ahead," Mack said. "But you're not obligated to try and bring him around. He's responsible for his actions and his choices, even if they're crummy ones at the moment."

"Thanks." Bobbi crooked the corner of her mouth upward in a gesture of gratitude. She may have messed things up for good with Hunter, but at least she hadn't lost everyone she had come to care about. The way that Natasha, Mack, and Clint had come to her defense more than proved that.

"We should go," Natasha said, after a moment. "The last thing we need is to get another detention for standing around in the hallway when we should be in class."

She was right, of course, and they all said their goodbyes then, going their separate ways until the toll of the lunch bell could reunite them.

Apologies for my probably horrendous phonetic Russian spelling... I claim some of the responsibility for that, but Google translate bears the rest :)